#stop lowering the tone javelin

[javelinbk]

Brian Epstein describes meeting The Beatles

[dancingbirdie]

Here’s a smut idea that’s been stuck in my mind, how about the reader getting caught in the middle of “taking care of themself” and Astarion decides to join the fun but only to guide their hands along and just cooing soft, encouraging/teasing words into their ear 😩

Hi, anon! This was so naughty and I loved it. I wrote this fic in, like, less than two hours. So I guess that shows how excited I was to sketch this out haha. I hope you enjoy! xoxoxo

A Good Show

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings/Tags: masturbation (fem), praise kink, voyeurism, slight dom/sub vibes

Summary: Astarion catches you playing with yourself and is all too eager to help you finish.

*****

“Your wicked tongue got you into this predicament. You know that, don’t you?” Astarion smirked down at you, sprawled as you were on hands and knees over his lap. 

You whimpered as his fingertips traced across your backside, feather-soft, mapping the skin there. 

You heard the crack of his palm against your bottom before you actually registered the sting. A desperate mewl slipped from your lips as your mind attempted to reconcile the pain with the flood of arousal in your lower abdomen. 

You were so wet. Dripping, filthy wet. And he knew it. 

“Tch. So naughty. Not even a good smack can get you to behave. Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?” Astarion murmured. His hand resumed its tracing while the other carded through your hair lovingly. 

“Whatever you want,” you breathed, trembling with want from the obscene position you found yourself in. Naked, bent over Astarion’s lap, ass smarting, and cunt as wet as the Chianthar. 

“Dangerous words, darling,” he chuckled, dipping his fingers lower and slipping all too easily between your slick folds. 

You moaned as you felt him insert two fingers inside you and begin pumping at a leisurely pace. His other hand soon joined, thumb circling slowly around your swollen clit. It was all you could do to remain balanced and not collapse on top of his lap. 

You could see it so clearly in your mind’s eye. 

Although it was your fingers pumping inside you, it was his hands you thought of. It was his slender digits, impaling you again and again. It was his thumb circling your clit until you nearly saw stars. 

You’d shoved the collar of your tunic in your mouth to keep your voice muffled. The vision you were concocting was so vivid, it was nearly impossible to stop yourself from moaning. The humble little inn you all had settled in for the night was so quiet; you could only pray that no one heard you through the thin walls. But just a few more pumps of your fingers with fantasy-Astarion goading you on, and you knew that a climax would be nearing ever closer. 

Your hopes for secrecy were dashed as your ears pricked, honing in on the quiet cough emanating from the corner of the room. You froze. To your horror, you realized the door to your quarters was ajar and who else but Astarion himself was now peering around it to find you, perched at the end of the bed, trousers at your ankles, playing with yourself. 

You could have sworn you’d secured the latch on the door beforehand. But, then again, this place was in shambles. It was fully possible that the thing was too rusted to do its simple job. Either way, it hardly mattered now, given that the subject of your pleasure fantasy was now locking eyes with you in reality, his eyebrows raised in obvious amusement. 

“My, my. What do we have here? And, more importantly, why didn’t I receive an invitation?” he smirked. 

His voice spurred you into action, and you quickly rose from your reclined position to attempt to cover your not-so-decent bits from view. You could feel the red crush of embarrassment coloring every part of your body it could. 

“Astarion, I’m so, so sorry. I swore I closed the door earlier and… and…” you trailed off, burying your face in your hands. “Gods, this is worse than a javelin to the thigh,” you finished in a muffled tone.

You heard his throaty chuckle. “These locks are all but disintegrated, darling. They’d barely hold a mouse at bay, I’d wager.” 

You nodded, too mortified to continue having this conversation with him. It was bad enough to have been caught in the act, but to be caught by the very person you’d been fantasizing about? The gods were truly cruel. 

You heard the door close with a quiet snick. Assuming Astarion had sauntered off down the hall, your shoulders sagged with the weight of all that had transpired. 

You didn’t expect his voice to call to you again. This time, a little closer in proximity. 

“Well, is that it, then?” he goaded. 

You lifted your head slowly from your hands to peer at him. He was watching you with an intensity that one might see in a predator observing their prey. 

“What do you mean?” you hedged. 

“I mean, are you going to leave yourself half-sated, or are you going to finish what you started?” Astarion intoned. 

“What - are you thinking of staying for a show?” you retorted, flabbergasted at yet another turn in the course of these events.

“Wouldn’t you like me to?” he pressed, a teasing smile stretching his lips wide. His fangs glinted in the candlelight. “I heard you sigh my name, you know.”

You stared at him in horror, but he only chuckled again. 

“The wonders of elf ears and vampiric senses. They never cease,” he explained. 

Then he made his way further into the room, closer to you, before slouching against one of the bedposts at the foot of the bed. 

“I know you want to,” he murmured in a low drawl. “I can feel your arousal. It’s still boiling within you.”

Your breath stuttered of its own accord. His voice was so deep, so smooth, it was nearly impossible to resist. 

“I don’t know that I can…” you whispered, not trusting your voice to keep the gravity of your desire a secret. “What with you, you know, just standing there watching me…”

“Oh, darling,” he cooed, peeling away from the bedpost to crawl up on the mattress behind you. You watched him, awestruck, until he disappeared from your peripheral vision. 

“I plan to do much more than that,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. 

You shivered as you felt his legs stretch and line up against yours, while his hands came to band around each of your wrists. You groaned as you felt the hardness of his erection pressed firm against your backside, realization dawning on you that he was enjoying this, too. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” you breathed as you allowed him to lift your hands from your lap. Like you were a marionette on strings. His marionette. His strings. 

“Making sure you give yourself a good finish,” he crooned. “Now, lean back into me, and start touching yourself again.”

The obscenity of it all caused your cunt to flush with arousal all over again. You clenched on thin air, a pitiful whine escaping your mouth. 

“Three fingers this time, please,” Astarion whispered, nudging your right hand down lower. “I know you can take it.” 

Your fingers followed his orders almost of their own accord. Like your body was primed and ready to take Astarion’s demands, whatever they may be. 

You groaned as you sheathed three fingers inside your dripping cunt, pulsing them in and out. It was tight, so tight, but in the most delicious way. 

“There’s a good girl,” he murmured through a kiss against your temple. “Now the other hand, if you will.”

You whined as he guided the fingers of your left hand to begin circling your swollen clit, almost too sensitive to bear. 

“That’s it, darling. Yes. You follow orders so well,” he crooned. “Give yourself a good finish. Let me see how you touch yourself when you’re thinking of me.”

You were beyond words. Couldn’t fathom enough of them to string together a sentence. His name and a plea to the gods were all you could muster, and after a while those two seemed to blend into one. Astarion was the only god here that you could feel. And it was his praises you sang as he kept a firm grip on your wrists, forcing yourself to usher in your completion. 

“You’re so close, I can almost taste it,” he breathed into your ear. You could feel his ragged breathing behind you as you continued to touch yourself, back arching into his chest all the while.

“Give me a good show, darling. Come for me. Come with my name on your lips,” he ordered. 

Your body was more than willing to comply. With a last thrust of your fingers, landing all the harder thanks to the extra force Astarion applied to your hand, you wailed his name as you climaxed. Your body shuddered as you reeled from the pleasure of it, stars exploding behind your eyelids and reforming from the dust that remained. 

It was the hardest orgasm you had ever experienced by your hand, and you knew it had everything to do with the one who had been guiding you. You collapsed your full weight into Astarion’s chest, soaking in the coolness of his skin against your heated flesh. 

“That was… that was incredible…” you murmured after a moment spent collecting your breath. 

You bounced against his body slightly as he chuckled. “It was, wasn’t it?” he mused. “You gave quite the performance, I have to say.” 

“I had an excellent instructor,” you teased, eliciting a true bark of laughter from him at last. 

“Free lessons for you, whenever you’d like,” he retorted, kissing your temple once more.

[titanicfreija]

A Hunter

"You ready for this?"

Yol had become accustomed to Three's tones, if not her words, and sat at attention to watch carefully.

Three, once satisfied, cast her super as slowly as she could, trying to remember how she did it when she was a kid. Gotta let it swallow you so you can swallow it, but she didn't want to tell anyone else that.

~

The Void enveloped the Hunter and she drew it into herself to create the massive longbow and she fired it into the top of a statue maybe fifty meters off.

Yol leapt to her feet and chattered excitedly, pointing at the tethers, then at herself.

"Yep!" Three declared.

The Acolyte chattered as the Void started at her hands and dripped like plasma, then grew and spilled up her arms and over her head, but it stopped short of her legs, and when she tried to form the weapon in her hands, it fell to pieces, leaving a javelin-sized arrow in one hand until it also dissolved.

Three looked at her without moving, but she sheepishly kicked at the ground and turned away.

"No, no, that was great, that was a great first try!"

"It wasn't our first," said Jinx. "But she always tried a spear before."

"That's arcstriders, the wizard magic," she said for a Jinx to translate. Yol grunted her agreement and pooled the black plasma into her hands again. Three held her hands wide, shrugging, not knowing how to help with that.

Yol dropped the plasma and sat heavily, panting. Three watched in surprise, checked for surrounding dangers, then realized that Yol was completely exhausted. Jinx hovered close and Yol swatted at her as they chatted back and forth. Three, in her effort to be polite, turned to sit on the edge of the wall where Freija had lain to nap.

"Hey, we can't keep going," Jinx said after a minute. "Do... Do you guys know how to help? It's not the first time."

"Rest up. Eat well. I don't know if Hive eat...."

"Uh... Yes."

"Other Hive?"

"... Sometimes."

Three didn't move an inch or respond at all besides a simple, "Yup."

"It isn't her fault," Freija mumbled at her, sitting up.

"Nope," agreed Three grumpily, but she lifted her voice for Jinx and Yol. "Tell you what, if this is a good spot for you, I can come back in a couple days. Don't do anything except hunt to eat, and only if scavenging is off the table. Scavenge if you can."

Yol looked at Three as Jinx's translation rattled through, and she grunted, then turned to Jinx. They went back and forth for a while, then Jinx turned back to Three. "Noon tomorrow, noon the next day, return at noon after that?"

"Noon means midday?"

"Technically, this place doesn't have night and day," Jinx explained. "So I rounded to the days on Fundament, which are slightly longer than Earth, but you should be able to round the measurements."

"Yeah, close enough."

Yol groaned quietly and hauled herself bodily to her feet before she staggered and nearly fell. Freija ran to help. She let Yol lean on her while Jinx led the way to a small doorway and a tiny lit room beyond. Three hadn't even noticed.

The Titan practically carried the exhausted Acolyte, dwarfed by the chitinous frame, even as she lowered the Guardian to a long bench padded with a nest of loose foliage and matted branches and vines. Three peeked in to see small jars and collected weaponry and statuettes lined against the wall, too, under the green-flamed candles.

Well, that's painfully familiar.

Three groaned at herself, disgusted by empathizing with this monster, but... Freija was right. Hive or not, they're Risen, too. Guardians, Lightbearers, whatever, cursed just like the rest to navigate an impermanent world and get shot at. And this one was pretty obviously a Hunter.

Freija didn't talk much more with Jinx, but she did cover the Acolyte with a scrap of blanket out of what might have been instinct. Yol seemed confused but understood the gesture to be kind, and she grunted her thanks, wadding it up to play support for unsupported, inflexible limbs.

No door could be closed, so Freija simply stepped sideways immediately out to give privacy, and she nearly collided with Three, who narrowly slipped backwards.

They stayed quiet, not even whispering through comms. They kept their silence even as they entered orbit and allowed themselves to drift loose around Mars, lingering while Three marinated in her thoughts on what it really meant to be a Hunter.

~

Helping

The Hive Hunter

Yol Asks Again

Three Says No.

Three reaches out

Nightstalkers

Tests

Hunters <-

Burn Bright

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Ten)(Alec Volturi)

The Trial

As the pause lengthened, Edward's breath speed up. "Edward?" Carlisle asked, low and anxious. ‘'They're not sure how to proceed. They're weighing options, choosing key targets - me, of course, you, Eleazar, Tanya. Marcus is reading the strength of our ties to each other, looking for weak points. The Romanians' presence irritates them. They're worried about the faces they don't recognize - Zafrina and Senna in particular - and the wolves, naturally. He is debating whether Maeryn’s gift could break Bella’s shield, or atleast crack it enough for Alec and Jane’s gift to slip through, just as it did with Renate’s shield.” A few gasps filled the air and they looked at Bella, who also looked concerned. “ However, they've never been outnumbered before. That's what stopped them." "Outnumbered?" Tanya whispered incredulously. "They don't count their witnesses," Edward breathed. "They are nonentities, meaningless to the guard. Aro just enjoys an audience." "Should I speak?" Carlisle asked. Edward hesitated, then nodded. "This is the only chance you'll get." Carlisle squared his shoulders and paced several steps ahead of our defensive line. He spread his arms, holding his palms up as if in greeting. "Aro, my old friend. It's been centuries." The white clearing was dead silent for a long moment. The strain mounted as the seconds ticked by. And then Aro stepped forward out of the center of the Volturi formation. Renate moved with him as if the tips of her fingers were sewn to his robe. For the first time, the Volturi ranks reacted. A muttered grumble rolled through the line, eyebrows lowered into scowls, lips curled back from teeth. Even Maeryn felt her lips curl back from her teeth, however, Alec squeezed her hand and pulled her slightly closer to him, calming her down. A few of the guard leaned forward into a crouch. Aro held one hand up toward them. "Peace." He walked just a few paces more, then cocked his head to one side. His milky eyes glinted with curiosity. "Fair words, Carlisle," he breathed in his thin, wispy voice. "They seem out of place, considering the army you've assembled to kill me, and to kill my dear ones." Carlisle shook his head and stretched his right hand forward as if there were not still almost a hundred yards between them. "You have but to touch my hand to know that was never my intent." Aro's shrewd eyes narrowed. "But how can your intent possibly matter, dear Carlisle, in the face of what you have done?" He frowned, and a shadow of sadness crossed his features - whether it was genuine or not, I could not tell. "I have not committed the crime you are here to punish me for." "Then step aside and let us punish those responsible. Truly, Carlisle, nothing would please me more than to preserve your life today." "No one has broken the law, Aro. Let me explain." Again, Carlisle offered his hand. Before Aro could answer, Caius drifted swiftly forward to Aro's side. "So many pointless rules, so many unnecessary laws you create for yourself, Carlisle," the white-haired ancient hissed. "How is it possible that you defend the breaking of one that truly matters?" Maeryn agreed, who did they think they were anyway? "The law is not broken. If you would listen - " "We see the child, Carlisle," Caius snarled. "Do not treat us as fools." "She is not an immortal. She is not a vampire. I can easily prove this with just a few moments - " Caius cut him off. "If she is not one of the forbidden, then why have you massed a battalion to protect her?" "Witnesses, Caius, just as you have brought." Carlisle gestured to the angry horde at the edge of the woods; some of them growled in response. "Any one of these friends can tell you the truth about the child. Or you could just look at her, Caius. See the flush of human blood in her cheeks." "Artifice!" Caius snapped. "Where is the informer? Let her come forward!" He craned his neck around until he spotted Irina lingering behind the wives. "You! Come!" Irina stared at him uncomprehendingly, her face like that of someone who has not entirely awakened from a hideous nightmare.

Impatiently, Caius snapped his fingers. One of the wives' huge bodyguards moved to Irina's side and prodded her roughly in the back. Irina blinked twice and then walked slowly toward Caius in a daze. She stopped several yards short, her eyes still on her sisters. Caius closed the distance between them and slapped her across the face. It couldn't have hurt, but there was something terribly degrading about the action. It was like watching someone kick a dog. Tanya and Kate hissed in synchronization. Irina's body went rigid and her eyes finally focused on Caius. He pointed one clawed finger at Renesmee, where she clung to Bella’s back, her fingers still tangled in the wolf’s fur. A growl rumbled through its chest. "This is the child you saw?" Caius demanded. "The one that was obviously more than human?" Irina peered at the foes, examining Renesmee for the first time since entering the clearing. Her head tilted to the side, confusion crossed her features. "Well?" Caius snarled. "I... I'm not sure," she said, her tone perplexed. Caius's hand twitched as if he wanted to slap her again. "What do you mean?" he said in a steely whisper. "She's not the same, but I think it's the same child. What I mean is, she's changed. This child is bigger than the one I saw, but - " Caius's furious gasp crackled through his suddenly bared teeth, and Irina broke off without finishing. Aro flitted to Caius's side and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Be composed, brother. We have time to sort this out. No need to be hasty." With a sullen expression, Caius turned his back on Irina. "Now, sweetling," Aro said in a warm, sugary murmur. "Show me what you're trying to say." He held his hand out to the bewildered vampire. Uncertainly, Irina took his hand. He held hers for only five seconds. "You see, Caius?" he said. "It's a simple matter to get what we need." Caius didn't answer him. From the corner of his eye, Aro glanced once at his audience, his mob, and then turned back to Carlisle. "And so we have a mystery on our hands, it seems. It would appear the child has grown. Yet Irina's first memory was clearly that of an immortal child. Curious." "That's exactly what I'm trying to explain," Carlisle said, and from the change in his voice, Maeryn could guess at his relief. This was the pause they had pinned all their precious hopes on. However, it was pathetic to even begin with. Carlisle held out his hand again. Aro hesitated for a moment. "I would rather have the explanation from someone more central to the story, my friend. Am I wrong to assume that this breach was not of your making?" "There was no breach." "Be that as it may, I will have every facet of the truth." Aro's feathery voice hardened. "And the best way to get that is to have the evidence directly from your talented son." He inclined his head in Edward's direction. "As the child clings to his newborn mate, I'm assuming Edward is involved." Edward turned to quickly kiss Bella’s forehead and Renesmee's, not meeting her eyes. Then he strode across the snowy field, clapping Carlisle on the shoulder as he passed. A low whimper cloud be heard from behind the first row of foes - Esme's terror breaking through. Good. Be afraid. They all should be. Jane smiled as Edward crossed the midpoint in the distance between the two sides, when he was closer to the Volturi than he was to the foes. That smug little smile did it for Bella. Her fury peaked and her muscles tightened, and she acted automatically. She threw her shield with all the force in her mind, flung it across the impossible expanse of the field like a javelin. Her breath rushed out in a huff with the exertion. The shield blew out from her in a bubble of sheer energy, a mushroom cloud of liquid steel. It pulsed like a living thing. This was the moment Maeryn had waited for. Alec squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it, letting her use her power. Maeryn removed her hands from under her dark, grey cloak  and she concentrated on the barely visible bubble Bella was creating, trying to protect Edward. Maeryn slowly closed

her hand, feeling her gift sifting through her fingers. Her shield was strong, but slowly small cracks started to form, yet it took all that Maeryn had to keep these cracks open. Bella looked worried, but soon that look of worry turned into a glare. Jane had also noticed the cracks and tried to use her gift on Bella. A frustrating growl escaped her lips and Maeryn knew why. Bella had a second shield, a shield Maeryn couldn’t break. At least not yet. Maeryn dropped her hands and the shield repaired itself, though it was weaker than before. Barely a second had passed. Edward was still walking to Aro. Edward stopped a few steps away from Aro, Edward's chin came up arrogantly, and he held his hand out to Aro as if he were conferring a great honor.  Maeryn growled lowly, warning him. However, Aro seemed only delighted with his attitude, but his delight was not universal. Renate fluttered nervously in Aro’s shadow. Caius's scowl was so deep it looked like his papery, translucent skin would crease permanently. Little Jane showed her teeth, and beside her Alec's eyes narrowed in concentration. Maeryn growled lowly, warning him. They all were ready to act at a second's notice. Aro closed the distance without pause - and really, what did he have to fear? The hulking shadows of the lighter gray cloaks - the brawny fighters like Felix - were but a few yards away. Jane and her burning gift could throw Edward on the ground, writhing in agony. Alec could blind and deafen him before he could take a step in Aro's direction. And Maeryn could turn him to dust in a matter of seconds. Making it look like he had never existed at all. And ontop of that, she had just found out she was able to crack Bella’s shield, allowing at least Alec’s gift to slip through. With an untroubled smile, Aro took Edward's hand. His eyes snapped shut at once, and then his shoulders hunched under the onslaught of information. Every secret thought, every strategy, every insight - everything Edward had heard in the minds around him during the last month - was now Aro's. Bella hissed with frustration, and the shield roiled with her irritation, shifting its shape and contracting around their side. "Easy, Bella," Zafrina whispered to her. Aro continued to concentrate on Edward's memories. Edward's head bowed, too, the muscles in his neck locking tight as he read back again everything that Aro took from him, and Aro's response to it all. This two-way but unequal conversation continued long enough that even the guard grew uneasy. Low murmurs ran through the line until Caius barked a sharp order for silence. Jane was edging forward like she couldn't help herself, and Renata's face was rigid with distress. Aro straightened, his eyes flashing open, their expression awed and wary. He did not release Edward's hand. Edward's muscles loosened ever so slightly. "You see?" Edward asked, his velvet voice calm. "Yes, I see, indeed," Aro agreed, and amazingly, he sounded almost amused. "I doubt whether any two among gods or mortals have ever seen quite so clearly." The disciplined faces of the guard showed disbelief. "You have given me much to ponder, young friend," Aro continued. "Much more than I expected." Still he did not release Edward's hand, and Edward's tense stance was that of one who listens. Edward didn't answer. "May I meet her?" Aro asked - almost pleaded - with sudden eager interest. "I never dreamed of the existence of such a thing in all my centuries. What an addition to our histories!" "What is this about, Aro?" Caius snapped before Edward could answer. Maeryn felt the same. She was curious, but she was even more bloodthirsty. She wanted nothing more than to crush Isabella Cullen. The only vampire known to stand against her mate’s gift. "Something you've never dreamed of, my practical friend. Take a moment to ponder, for the justice we intended to deliver no longer applies." Caius hissed in surprise at his words. "Peace, brother," Aro cautioned soothingly. This would have been good news for the Cullens, if not for the double tone the message was delivered with. 

"Will you introduce me to your daughter?" Aro asked Edward again. Caius was not the only one who hissed at this new revelation. Edward nodded reluctantly. Aro still gripped Edward's hand, and he now answered a question that the rest of the vampires had not heard. "I think a compromise on this one point is certainly acceptable, under the circumstance. We will meet in the middle." Aro released his hand. Edward turned back toward us, and Aro joined him, throwing one arm casually over Edward's shoulder like they were the best of friends - all the while maintaining contact with Edward's skin. They began to cross the field back to our side. The entire guard fell into step behind them. Aro raised a hand negligently without looking at them. "Hold, my dear ones. Truly, they mean us no harm if we are peaceable." The guard reacted to this more openly than before, with snarls and hisses of protest, but held their position. Renate, clinging closer to Aro than ever, whimpered in anxiety. "Master," she whispered. "Don't fret, my love," he responded. "All is well." "Perhaps you should bring a few members of your guard with us," Edward suggested. "It will make them more comfortable." Aro nodded as if this was a wise observation he should have thought of himself. He snapped his fingers twice. "Felix, Demetri." The two vampires were at his side instantaneously. Both were tall and dark-haired, Demetri hard and lean as the blade of a sword, Felix hulking and menacing as an iron-spiked cudgel. The five of them stopped in the middle of the snowy field. "Bella," Edward called. "Bring Renesmee... and a few friends." Bella nodded slowly. "Jacob? Emmett?" she asked quietly. Both nodded. Emmett grinned. I crossed the field with them flanking me. Another rumble could be heard from the guard as they saw her choices  - clearly, they did not trust the werewolf. Maeryn glared at the wolf, unsure if her Master was safe. She wanted to come along and protect him, just as he took her into his protection when she was changed and her world changed, yet she couldn’t. She had to obey the commands. Aro lifted his hand, waving away their protest again. "Interesting company you keep," Demetri murmured to Edward. Edward didn't respond, but a low growl slipped through Jacob's teeth. They stopped a few yards from Aro. Edward ducked under Aro's arm and quickly joined them, taking Bella’s hand. For a moment they faced each other in silence. Then Felix greeted Bella in a low aside. "Hello again, Bella." He grinned cockily while still tracking Jacob's every twitch with his peripheral vision. Bella smiled wryly at the mountainous vampire. "Hey, Felix." Felix chuckled. "You look good. Immortality suits you." "Thanks so much." "You're welcome. It's too bad ..." He let his comment trail off into silence, Maeryn rolled her eyes. Only he would flirt with the enemy at its peaking point. But she knew how he would end the phrase: It's too bad were going to kill you in a sec. And yes, yes they would. Preferable Maeryn killing Bella specifically.  "Yes, too bad, isn't it?" she murmured arrogantly. Felix winked. “Promise me one thing?” Maeryn whispered ever so quietly to Alec and Jane, whom both looked at her questionably. “Safe Bella for me?” she replied with a sadistic yet perfect smile. The twins returned the smile. “It will be our pleasure.” Jane replied while Alec quickly kissed Maeryn’s forehead before the three vampire’s returned their attention back to the scene playing infront of their eyes, waiting for the command to attack and kill.  Aro had paid no attention to their exchange. He leaned his head to one side, fascinated. "I hear her strange heart," he murmured with an almost musical lilt to his words. "I smell her strange scent." Then his hazy eyes shifted to Bella. "In truth, young Bella, immortality does become you most extraordinarily," he said. "It is as if you were designed for this life." Bella nodded once in acknowledgment of his flattery. "You liked my gift?" he asked, eyeing the pendant she wore. "It's beautiful, and very, very generous of you.

Thank you. I probably should have sent a note." Aro laughed delightedly. "It's just a little something I had lying around. I thought it might complement your new face, and so it does." A little hiss could be heard  from the center of the Volturi line. Jane had curled her lips in annoyance. It hadn’t pleased her one bit that Master Aro had given Bella such a precious gift, and neither did it please Maeryn. Aro cleared his throat to reclaim my attention. "May I greet your daughter, lovely Bella?" he asked sweetly. Bella walked two slow steps forward.  Aro met them, his face beaming. "But she's exquisite," he murmured. "So like you and Edward." And then louder, "Hello, Renesmee." Renesmee looked at Bella quickly. She nodded. "Hello, Aro," she answered formally in her high, ringing voice. Aro's eyes were bemused. "What is it?" Caius hissed from behind. He seemed infuriated by the need to ask. "Half mortal, half immortal," Aro announced to him and the rest of the guard without turning his enthralled gaze from Renesmee. "Conceived so, and carried by this newborn while she was still human." "Impossible," Caius scoffed. "Do you think they've fooled me, then, brother?" Aro's expression was greatly amused, but Caius flinched. "Is the heartbeat you hear a trickery as well?" Caius scowled, looking as chagrined as if Aro's gentle questions had been blows. "Calmly and carefully, brother," Aro cautioned, still smiling at Renesmee. "I know well how you love your justice, but there is no justice in acting against this unique little one for her parentage. And so much to learn, so much to learn! I know you don't have my enthusiasm for collecting histories, but be tolerant with me, brother, as I add a chapter that stuns me with its improbability. We came expecting only justice and the sadness of false friends, but look what we have gained instead! A new, bright knowledge of ourselves, our possibilities." He held out his hand to Renesmee in invitation. But this was not what she wanted. She leaned away from Bella, stretching upward, to touch her fingertips to Aro's face. His smile widened, and he sighed in satisfaction. "Brilliant," he whispered. Renesmee relaxed back into Bella’s arms, her little face very serious. "Please?" she asked him. His smile turned gentle. "Of course I have no desire to harm your loved ones, precious Renesmee." Aro's voice was so comforting and affectionate. But Maeryn smiled, knowing better. And then she could heard Edward's teeth grind together and, far behind the foes, Maggie's outraged hiss at the lie. So they aren’t as thick as they seem, Maeryn thought. "I wonder," Aro said thoughtfully, seeming unaware of the reaction to his previous words. His eyes moved unexpectedly to Jacob, and instead of the disgust the other Volturi viewed the giant wolf with, Aro's eyes were filled with a longing. "It doesn't work that way," Edward said, the careful neutrality gone from his suddenly harsh tone. "Just an errant thought," Aro said, appraising Jacob openly, and then his eyes moved slowly across the two lines of werewolves behind him. Whatever Renesmee had shown him, it made the wolves suddenly interesting to him. "They don't belong to us, Aro. They don't follow our commands that way. They're here because they want to be." Jacob growled menacingly. "They seem quite attached to you, though," Aro said. "And your young mate and your... family. Loyal" His voice caressed the word softly. "They're committed to protecting human life, Aro. That makes them able to coexist with us, but hardly with you. Unless you're rethinking your lifestyle." Aro laughed merrily. "Just an errant thought," he repeated. "You well know how that is. We none of us can entirely control our subconscious desires." Edward grimaced. "I do know how that is. And I also know the difference between that kind of thought and the kind with a purpose behind it. It could never work, Aro." Jacob's vast head turned in Edward's direction, and a faint whine slipped from between his teeth. "He's intrigued with the idea of... guard dogs," Edward murmured back.

There was one second of dead silence, and then the sound of the furious snarls ripping from the entire pack filled the giant clearing. Maeryn felt the same. She would not be able to stand the smell everyday that these mutts dragged along with them. And she certainly does not like their attitude. However, that would soon be sorted out anyway. There was a sharp bark of command - from a huge, black wold, - and the complaint broke off into ominous quiet. "I suppose that answers that question," Aro said, laughing again. "This lot has picked its side." Edward hissed and leaned forward. Bella clutched at his arm, wondering what could be in Aro's thoughts that would make him react so violently, while Felix and Demetri slipped into crouches in synchronization. Aro waved them off again. They all returned to their former posture, Edward included. "So much to discuss," Aro said, his tone suddenly that of an inundated businessman. "So much to decide. If you and your furry protector will excuse me, my dear Cullens, I must confer with my brothers."

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.3 Heavenly Bonds

Summary:

Bold of you to assume my friends and I won't smite you.

---------------

Kagami blasted another group of demons with a bolt of lightning. Zooming higher into the air she saw Adrien's wall of green flames blocking off the exit into the lower valley. Where the mortals' village lay exposed.

Adrien himself was a speck in the distance. Only her dragon eyes could pick him out. With a sweep of her tail she sent a gust of wind towards two demon archers. Making them tumble off the cliff they aimed from.

A growl escaped Kagami's throat. Where were the protectors? Surely a horde of this size would warrant-

Suddenly, a glowing green hexagon appeared directly in Kagami's path. Forcing her to turn sharply. In the next instant a red fireball crashed against the other side of it.

"Hey there, goddess! Long time no see!"

Blinking in surprise, Kagami saw a god standing on a smaller hexagon than the one that had protected her. He wore green, shell-like armor and carried a shield. Short, dark brown hair contrasted the golden glow of his eyes.

"You're late," Kagami scolded Nino.

"I got held up!"

Setting a stance like a javelin thrower Nino formed another hexagon and launched it into the trees below. There was a demonic yelp and then a new tree popped out of the canopy.

"Well, that takes care of that fire-breathing jerk." Nino dusted his hands. "So ungodly."

"There are significant enemy forces," Kagami pointed out. "I suggest you summon backup."

A teasing smile spread across Nino's face. "Oh? The great Kagami calling for reinforcements?"

Not for the first time Kagami was grateful dragons couldn't blush. She was nine tenths sure he was thinking about all the times she rushed in without a plan. "We could always let Adrien handle it."

A dreamy look clouded Nino's features. "Mm, I haven't seen my god let loose since he punched that demon king in the face last millennium..." Shaking his head, Nino slapped both cheeks lightly. "N-nope! This mountain range is supposed to stay a mountain range for the next hundred thousand years. There is no crater scheduled anytime soon!"

"Then you better hurry up!" Kagami called over her shoulder as she zeroed in on another batch of demons.

"Goddess is still so impatient." Nino shook his head fondly as he pulled out a bright red strand of hair. "Monkey King, I summon you. Lend me your aid!"

Nino blew it in Kagami's direction, glowing as it went.

Deciding that she didn't want to start a forest fire with her lightning -she didn't have control over flames like Adrien did- Kagami shifted. Instead of her usual kimono she wore armor of a different style than that of Marinette and Nino.

Concentrating, Kagami pulled out her sword. A tsurugi forged from her mother's own fang, instilled with Tomoe's unyielding nature. With a single swing there was nothing left of her target but ash and the smell of lightning.

"You get to be a monkey! And you get to be a monkey!"

The god jumped from one opponent's head to another. Whacking them with his ruyi jingu bang, which was indeed turning them into monkeys. He wore only pants and a golden circlet as a crown. Brown fur accented his muscular body in contrast to the fiery hair atop his head.

"Kagami!" Kim exclaimed, just noticing she was there. His tail wrapped around the sword arm of his current mount and made it punch its owner repeatedly in the face. "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Heard you got in trouble with the council! Ha ha! Nice!"

"Kim," she greeted. Kagami didn't know if he was praising or teasing her, likely both. Such was the friendship of a trickster deity. "Didn't you mess with one of Alix's prophecies again?"

"Yeah! It was great!" Kim leapt straight into the air just as his mount's allies reached him. Weapons clashing in the space he just vacated. Swinging his staff in a circle as he fell Kim turned all of them into monkeys at once. "She was so mad!"

Flipping through the air, Kim got a gleam in his eye. "Say. How 'bout we pick up where we left off?"

Casually dusting the demon sneaking up behind her Kagami felt a grin forming. "Whoever gets the most enemies wins?"

"You know it!"

Quickly dispatching the remaining demons in their immediate area they split up. Kim calling a cloud to carry him and Kagami shifting back into her dragon form.

Scanning for more enemies, Kagami did a double take as she saw a fire-breathing dragon with leathery wings chasing a horde of demons. Her ears twitched as they detected the faint tones of a flute. So, it's her is it?

Locating the source of the music was child's play. Kagami silently shifted behind the goddess as she was preoccupied with her illusion.

Nine tails denoted the fox's age. She wore an orange coat of fur which Kagami knew was actually the goddess's own fur. Dark hair flowed down her back, the ends fading to the same shade as her tails. A flute half as tall as its owner shaped her spell.

"Really, Alya?" Kagami demanded. "A western dragon?"

Alya jerked in surprise. "My gods, Kagami! Don't scare me like that! Oh, hells." She hurriedly played a tune so her illusory dragon wouldn't disappear.

"You could've chosen anything else but no. You had to choose a western dragon." The nerve, the betrayal!

"Aw, c'mon goddess. Y'know dragons are terrifying!"

"Flattery will not appease the storm of my anger!"

Rolling her eyes Alya placed her arm on Kagami's shoulders. "Listen, I know you don't like the drakes-"

"Selfish, smug little horders think their nonsense riddles are so clever. Most of them cannot even speak!" Like her mother always said: An eastern dragon's wisdom was divine! You'd be lucky if a western dragon didn't eat you after waking up from a centuries long food coma.

"Right, right. But in my defense they're perfect for instilling panic into large groups." Alya waved at the fleeing demons to illustrate her point.

"... Your technique does appear to be effective," Kagami admitted reluctantly.

Sensing an opening Alya pounced on it. "Besides, you're always saying how we should never give less than our best. I'm just using my talents to their fullest."

Kagami knew Alya was appealing to her sense of pride. As a fox, Alya knew how to be sneaky. In more ways than one. Still... "I suppose I cannot fault you for that."

Nine tails twitching in excitement ruined Alya's air of nonchalance. "Goddess, I knew you'd see it my way!"

"No doubt." Kagami pointed toward an outcrop of stone. "Direct the enemy there."

Alya grinned. "You got it, goddess."

Working together they cleared the area and joined the others. Kagami was only mildly surprised to see Nino had summoned Marinette. She was, after all, a fellow war goddess.

"No fair!" Kim cried out, absently bashing his opponent. "You had help!"

"There's plenty for everyone, Kim!" Marinette's yo-yo cut like a razor. Demons bursting into pink sparkles whenever they got too close.

"You go, goddess!" Alya struck enemies with her flute, turning them into foxtails.

Nino mostly sent shields to block fireballs and arrows. Expertly directing his hexagons. But he was also distracted by a certain god.

Adrien moved with feline grace. A longsword wreathed in shadows cutting down every demon in his path. Instead of his usual robes he wore black armor with glowing green designs on it. Two cat-like eyes stared from his breastplate in imitation of the ones in his head. A sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

In short he was gorgeous. And she wasn't the only one to think so.

"Stupid deity of destruction," Nino muttered. "Why's the god gotta be so beautiful?"

Kagami nodded appreciatively. "Half the time he's using that innocent face to get what he wants. The other half he doesn't even realize how attractive he is."

"I know!"

"You think that's bad?" Alya shoved a demon onto Kagami's sword. "My goddess has literally weaponized cuteness!"

Pausing, both Kagami and Nino looked at each other. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility for a creation goddess.

Placing a circular barrier around them, Nino voiced their thoughts. "Uh, babe? She hasn't actually-"

"No, I was exaggerating!" Alya played a short tune that blinded their opponents with bright light. "But Marinette keeps her hair down all the time now!"

There was a collective chorus of sympathy.

"It suits her."

"I noticed, yeah."

"Was thinking about it this morning."

The other three stared at Kim.

"What? Marinette gives the best hair advice." Kim ran a hand through his fiery red hair. "This doesn't just happen."

"He's right you know." Adrien spun his weapon in a circle, clearing the ground around him, before tossing his hair. Golden locks falling perfectly back in place. He grinned and Kagami was sure his face glowed like a sun god. "Marinette does give the best hair advice."

Then he charged back into the fray. Green flames spread from his feet, burning nothing but the demons and their weapons. The unrestrained joy of a destroyer performing his sacred duty radiated from Adrien in waves.

"... I'm gonna kill him," Nino declared.

"Babe, no."

"My best friend is trying to kill me, Alya! Ever since I admitted he was aesthetically appealing! It only makes sense that I get to him before he finishes me off!"

Alya placed both hands on Nino's shoulders. "First of all? That's an exaggeration. Second, you know he just wants to be appreciated. Destroyers get the short straw when it comes to the mortals' worship."

Nino sighed. "I know, I know."

"Plus, like, if he wanted you dead not even Marinette would be able to stop him," Kim pointed out.

Again, the other three stared at him.

"What!? What'd I say!?"

"Let's just get back to the battle," Alya suggested, ignoring Kim.

"What? Oh, yeah, nope. Battle's over," Marinette informed them, suddenly appearing in their path.

"Come again?" Kagami scanned the valley and sure enough there wasn't a demon in sight.

"Aw, it's over already?" Kim slumped his shoulders before straightening suddenly. A grin forming. "Guess that means I won."

"Don't be absurd. I obviously got more than you," Kagami corrected.

"Yeah, god," Nino agreed, serving as unofficial referee like he usually did. "Kagami totally trounced you."

"Pfft, okay, sure. But I'll get the next one!" With that eloquent rebuttal Kim cupped his hands next to his mouth and hollered. "Alright, you wannabes! Where you at! It's time to go!"

A monkey screeched what Kagami assumed to be obscenities from the safety of the forest.

"Do you wanna be weeds? 'Cause you can definitely still be weeds!" Kim strode purposefully to collect his new subjects.

"Foxtail is not a weed!" Alya yelled after him

Leaning in, Kagami whispered. "Isn't it a weed, though?"

Mimicking her stance, Nino answered. "I think that's besides the point."

"What're we whispering about?" Adrien asked.

"Adrien!" Nino glomped him. Prompting the pair of them to fall over.

A laugh escaping with Adrien's breath. "Nino!"

"Are you trying to murder me? Because it feels like you're trying to murder me!"

Adrien patted his best friend's head. "There, there."

They continued in that vein a while longer. Kagami wasn't sure friendship was a strong enough word for what Adrien felt for Nino. Then again, the others insisted there was nothing more important to Adrien than his friends. Hmm.

Once the gods stood back up, letting Adrien greet Alya properly. (Why platonic kisses? Just why?) Kagami guided Nino a little ways from everyone else.

"What did I do? I swear it was an accident!"

"What? Nino, I am not mad!"

"Oh, thank creation!" Nino placed a hand on his chest as he let out the breath he'd been holding.

Kagami raised an eyebrow. "Did you really think I was upset?"

"Well, geez, what's a god to think when you put on your None-Shall-Stand-Before-Me face?"

"There's a face?"

"Yes, there's a face!" Nino squeaked in disbelief. "It shows up whenever you get an idea and won't let anyone talk you out of it!"

Kagami pressed her lips together in an effort to mask her amusement.

From Nino's deadpan look she wasn't very successful. "Out with it then, goddess. I get enough embarrassment from Adrien and Alya."

Right! "I was wondering if the relationship between you and Adrien is in any way romantically inclined."

Nino coughed. "What now?"

"I want to confess my love to Adrien," Kagami simplified, giving Nino an annoyed look. "Do you have dibs?"

Blinking several times as his mind shifted gears a grin started forming on Nino's face. "Oh, yes!"

"You have romantic feelings for him?"

"I mean no! I mean-" Nino took a deep breath. "Adrien is just the platonic love of my life- Wait, no, that's not it. There are no coupley feelings between Adrien and me!"

Kagami's lips quirked upwards. "I can see why Alya enjoys your company."

"You can keep teasing me or you can go confess to Adrien!"

"An excellent point." Turning on her heel Kagami strode toward the gaggle of gods. Eyes set on a certain destructive cat.

---------------

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late! @kagamiappreciationweek2020

... I feel like I should point out that I never promised a "Plot" or anything. I promised shenanigans and shenanigans only. Any "Plot" that manages to sneak in is purely coincidental.

Tumblr: Making your own slang in fantasy settings has to be done well, otherwise it comes across weird.

Me: You make a good point! *proceeds to do it anyway*

[setoandjewel]

Freaky Friday

WARNING: Not suitable for all ages.

Some cursing

A tiny being scared/panicking.

Story: Non canon. If the events of Freaky Friday were applied to a certain Seto and Gabriel after a silly argument.

This actually has a sequel but not it’s final third part. I���ll need to write all the parts and then upload.

Seto opened his eyes to see himself.

Big brown eyes watching him, eyes that he’d seen in every mirror he’d ever looked at.

They were his own eyes, almond shaped and slowly fading to grey at the sight of him waking up.

“Dad! You’re awake.”

Why was he calling himself dad? And more importantly, why was he talking to /himself/?! Why was he looking at himself from another person’s eyes?

And more importantly,

“SHIT!” Seto scrambled backward from between the giant’s arms, only to be clumsily caught in his own hand and forced to face himself. “No, no, NO! This can’t be happening! I can’t be sma-”

Why did he sound like Gabriel?

A quick glance over his body and a few fingers running through his short hair told him that he looked identical to the adopted Terran he found so many years ago.

Why did he /look/ like his own /son/?

“Why do I look like Gabriel?” Seto asked, his voice cracking as he looked to himself, towering over with a frown on his face that made the sorcerer press further into the warm, soft, skin of his own palm.

“Dad, you don’t just look like me. You /are/ me.” The voice rumbled deeply like something he’d never heard before, and he shut his eyes tight and turned his head away, trying to control his breathing. He couldn’t break down, he couldn’t. Not in front of his son.

He felt a breath wash over him as a strong wind, and he found himself stumbling backward as the hand moved away and returned to its owner.

Seto took a sharp inhale and brought his eyes back to the giant before him, seeing the clear worry on his familiar features. The giant was crouched down before him, hunched over as low as he could, so his darker locks grazed the floor. The sorcerer couldn’t help the awe that came over him, in the true sense of the word, at the sight of a /giant/ before him, let alone himself.

He recognised the stance his larger counterpart was taking, and gave a breathless wheeze, his words still caught in his throat.

“So that’s what I look like when I do that.”

Fuck I’m terrifying. I’m that big I could...

“So that’s how small I am. To everyone. To /you/.” Seto jumped away from the giant as he stooped deeper and his face came within inches, as well as his hand, which hovered behind him for a moment.

“I never really thought of it but I’m only as tall as your thumb." Gabriel said, as he looked to himself with a frown, brushing Seto’s fringe from his eyes. “But we have to time for that. We need to find a way to reverse this.”

“Me being in your body, you being in mine?”

“Yes. But if I just get up, I can take get you somewhere safe.” Seto lost his breath when he watched himself stand, his own body reaching taller and taller in the sky. Not used to his eyesight reaching so far above the ground, feeling like he was on stilts, Gabriel stumbled.

Seto ran. He dodged the clumsy footsteps that constantly knocked him off his feet, yelling as his own son came close to squashing him flat more than once. He hated it, he hated being small again!

“GABRIEL! Stop! You’re going to kill me!” Seto cried as he fell into a shoe longer than he was tall, but to his delight, it stopped moving, though the other came to rest right by him. He recognised the pair, some of his favourite shoes, which he picked out especially for today.

“Dad? Dad are you okay? Did I... did I-”

“No. But you bloody well came close to it.” Seto tried to walk forward only to come face to face with himself again, making him flinch backward with hands ready to inflict damage, before stopping to lower his hands.

“Stop doing that?”

“Doing /what/?”

“Scaring me?”

“Dad. I’m not doing anything.” Great, now he was getting scared of nothing. Every movement made him flinch, every word rumbled, just seeing himself made him squirm inside.

“Sit down Gabriel. We have to work out a few things here.” Seto turned his eyes away as he was stepped over, trying to ignore the crushing feelings of insignificance and the memories that hadn’t stopped. No full-blown panic attacks had come on yet, but he felt the hitching of his breath and the pounding headache in his near future if Gabriel didn’t get his shit together soon.

“What happened?”

“I think it was because of the argument we had. You know that movie, Freaky Friday? Can’t Eridan do stuff like that.” It sounded so weird hearing Gabriel’s tone and infliction but with his own voice, but it made sense. They were fighting front of the fawn; they were fighting over personal misunderstandings.

It can’t be, that’s just a movie. But the fawn can..

“Eridan is so dead if that is true. I told him specifically to never take matters like these into his own hands, but of course, he did.” Seto still hadn’t met the giant eyes watching over him, and didn’t plan to, yet. “I need to go and-”

“We have bigger problems here, dad. I have a major javelin competition tomorrow, and you have a date with mum, as well as my school and your genetic work.”

“And if we mess that up,” Seto looked up to himself, standing and stepping onto the plush surface of the hand that had lowered to his level. “You could lose your reputation, your grades, your friends.” The face approached rapidly as he was lifted, the floor beneath him dipping and curling as Gabriel made sure his dad wouldn’t fall out.

“Your job, your major project, your /wife/.” Gabriel continued, and he began to chew at his thumbnail, something distinctly /him/, and Seto’s instincts kicked in as the same hand brushed away a fringe and his large eyes closed, brow furrowing.

“This is all my fault. If I hadn’t listened to you, if I just appreciated the things you were trying to do for me, none of this would’ve happened.” His voice went deep and husky, and Seto immediately jumped in knowing that he might really cry.

“Gabriel, no, no. None of this is your fault. Look at me, cap.” His words were obeyed, but this time there was no flinching when the giant eyes turned on him, or when he came close enough to reach out and touch his own face. “We /will/ talk about this later, but for now, fringe down, nail out of your mouth, stop trying to sound so sexy. You’re about to get a crash course in becoming /me./”

Gabriel smiled down at his dad, and leant down to hug him, which only resulted in Seto getting squished against his own warm cheek, even getting a brief kiss which pretty much shocked him out of his wits. But then he was held up to his own amber eyes which were full of excitement.

“Did I do good, cap?” Gabriel asked Seto, as well as a whispered. “Was that like how you hug me?”

“Perfect, dad, perfect.”

---

Reblog if you enjoyed! Have a good day!!

[mattzerella-sticks]

Restless (Batman/Flash (Bruce/Barry) E-rated fic, 5.2k

Returning home from a mission in outer space, the team picks up a distress signal off-course. They rush off to help, landing on a strange alient planet teeming with life. Especially within the plant kingdom.

While guarding the Javelin, Bruce and Barry encounter one such member while engaging in some familiar fight-flirting. Will its effects spell trouble for the League, or help these two relax their guards long enough to explore new possibilities?

(Hint: It's a little bit of both)

           Bruce scrolls through his tablet, monitoring the Javelin’s functions from his seat at the front. One of many tasks he divides his focus between, including watching the video feed of the open bay door and checking the communication systems in case the others radio in. All necessary when designated support, on guard for when the mission goes sour and a quick exit is needed.

           They picked up a distress signal on their way back from a diplomatic mission. Helping unite warring factions by exposing the true masterminds of the conflict. A group of gem smugglers who used battlefield confusion to mine and transport a supply of crystals that, when broken down correctly, can become a low-cost substitute for fuel. When they left the leaders not only agreed on peace but also dedicated the efforts they put towards war into research on these crystals.

           Job done, he and the others began the journey back. Halfway from Earth the calm atmosphere was quickly shattered by blaring alarms and the crackle of an open transmission. “Help! Repeat *buzz* in danger… anyone… of control *buzz* Help!”

           “Bruce,” Clark steadied a hand on his chair, leaning beside him, “Can you trace where this is coming from?”

           He flipped a few more switches, already twisting a knob when Clark stepped in. “Working on it.”

           The signal came from a planet two star systems away. Lush with vegetation, Bruce found landing a tad impossible without crushing a tree or two. They ultimately landed in a small clearing near a jagged outcrop; rocks and leaves providing cover for their ship. Fully settled John lay out the orders – him, Clark, Diana, and J’onn would scout ahead for the source while he stayed behind.

           “Ugh, I’m so bored.”

           Him, and one other person.

           Bruce glances at Barry, the speedster’s knees tucked up under his chin while he glares at the windshield. He vibrates in his seat, electricity sparking from his eyes. “Stop it,” Bruce tells him, tapping on a window and bringing it full-size, “you’ll make the whole ship shake.”

           Barry scoffs, directing his glare at Bruce. “At least something would happen, then.”

           He did not take his assignment lightly. “Why do I have to guard the ship, too? Batman can handle it!”

           “Bruce used up a lot of his artillery on our last mission,” John said, pointing at Bruce. “In the chance that enemies sneak past our defenses and overrun him, we’d lose our position.”

           “Very unlikely chance,” Bruce reminds them. Helping Barry because he would rather guard the Javelin alone. And not with a speedster who proved more distracting than he can handle.

           “Even so,” John continued, “Barry, you would provide an escape path. Or scour the planet in three seconds, find us, and assemble the calvary. Now there will be no further discussions, got it?” Barry opened his mouth in protest, snapping it closed just as fast given the sharp look on John’s face. “Good. Hopefully this won’t take long, and we can make up for lost time.” He strides towards the exit, the others at his heels. “Let’s move out!”

           That was over an hour ago. John checked in an hour after they left, reporting they have not found any sign of a threat so far. Bruce gave them updated specs on the transmission he decoded while they were out, about how the signal came from somewhere north of where they landed. He signed off, promising Bruce a second call in another hour.

           Another hour where Bruce must keep the fraying strings of his patience tied together lest they snap, and he does something he will regret.

           Barry slumps in his seat, legs dropped on the dashboard console and arms hanging off the sides. He sighs dramatically, again, drawing Bruce away from his duties. “Feet off.”

           “Why?” he asks, digging his heels in, “I’m not even on any of the controls!”

           “Because I said so,” Bruce turns to face him, brows drawn deep behind his cowl, “that’s why.”

           Barry matches his expression, nose twitching with irritation. Suddenly, though, all the creases of his mask smooth, and Barry offers a half-lidded stare instead. Shrugs, he removes his feet and lets them crash to the floor. “Fine.”

           “Fine?”

           “Yeah, why are we wasting time arguing, y’know?” The corners of his mouth tick upwards, a small chuckle escaping past his lips. “I’m bored… but not that bored to care about where I can place my feet.” Then he tugs off his cowl, running gloved hands through sweat-spiked locks. “It sure is hot in here, though.”

           While strange, Bruce treats his resignation as a victory. “Glad we can agree,” he says, stilted, “you can turn down the temperature, if you want…”

           Barry stretches casually, rolling the wrong knob. A burst of heat explodes from the vents and onto them, causing the already warm air to swell further. Bruce curses at the sweat, pooling under the edges of his cowl, escapes and race down his face. He fixes Barry’s mistake and readies another tirade.

           Only nothing comes. A sweet scent blew between them, his nose itching from its brush. Bruce sniffs, rubbing his nose. He breathes in deep, although the intent with which he does so is lost on him. Bruce cannot remember what he wanted to say.

           Relaxing against his seat, limbs loose and hanging, he tries grasping for his thoughts. They slip out of reach like loose paper on the wind. Like confetti. His lips fold in a small smile, prompted by the comparison – imagining that ticker tape raining overhead while in a parade.

           A trumpeter blows a horn, except it isn’t that. Red brackets the video on his monitor, showing a large number of vines creeping through the entryway. Bruce then glances up when he sees a few, similar vines inching over the windshield. He squints, wracking his brain for a response. The sense that he forgets an important detail hung overhead. Looming shadow forgotten when he hears Barry clearing his throat beside him.

           “It’s so hot,” he whines again. Barry has one leg up over his knee while he tugs on his boot. It pops off with a relieved sigh, Barry tossing it behind him while he frees his other foot. When finished there he starts pulling on the neck of his cowl.

           Bruce slips a finger under his own heated costume, adding needed breathing room. He swallows around a knot in his throat. “What are you… what’re you doing?”

           “Cooling off,” Barry explains, fabric pooling at his waist. Toned arms and chest on display for Bruce, his eyes following the darker blond hairs as they lead downwards. Suggestive, coloring Bruce’s imagination with images he has never seen but desperately wants. Craves more than ever before.

           Barry stands, whipping off his pants and giving Bruce’s fantasy points of reference. Bruce blanches, knowing he should look away but unable to. “That’s better,” Barry sits again, one leg thrown casually over the side of the chair. He waits a beat, and then faces Bruce. “Y’know,” he whispers, grinning, “you’re lookin’ a little hot around the collar.”

           “I am?”

           “Take all that off,” Barry waves at his costume, “it’s so hot. Why’re you even wearing it anyway?”

           Bruce doesn’t know, nor does Bruce care he cannot remember. “Sure,” he says, shucking the cowl and cape in one swift motion. His shirt follows, backtracked by an appreciative grunt from nearby. Barry watches him undress with one hand stroking his heavy cock. A bead of pre-come leaks out which he wipes up with his thumb. Bruce’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, skin scorching even though unburdened by thick fabric.

           Barry giggles, Bruce shifting his gaze towards his face. He hides a wide, bright grin behind a fist, and hazy eyes spark in delight. “Why’d you stop?” Barry asks, “it was getting good…” His pumps grow slow, achingly slow. “Don’t you want to feel good?” Bruce has not understood much these past few minutes, but the hidden meaning clicks immediately.

           Fumbling with his utility belt, Bruce kicks off his boots and jumps up. Bounces while peeling his pants off. Until he stands, naked, his own dick hanging beside his thigh. “I want to feel good,” he says.

           “So do I,” Barry rises, “so do I…” He runs his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Bruce’s neck. “Let’s feel good together.”

           “All right…”

           Bruce presses his lips against Barry’s, skin tingling from the speedster’s inherent electricity. Static latching onto nerve endings and setting them off like fireworks. His hands travel down the planes of Barry’s body, settling on his waist. He squeezes with bruising force while he works the other man’s mouth open with his tongue.

           Barry responds with matched fervor. Guides Bruce through forceful tugs on his hair, other hand vibrating and circling his hole. Bruce moans into the kiss, legs buckling from the pleasure. The tremors still, Barry’s hand latched tight on his lower back. Together they sink into the floor. He lies on his back, legs lifted and spread, resting on Barry’s shoulders.

           “How badly do you want this, Bruce?”

           “So badly,” he tells Barry, squirming in his grip. A rogue foot nudges too close to the speedster’s cheek and draws a chuckle out of him. “Very badly.”

           “Perfect…” Barry dips below where Bruce can see him, blond locks like a blanket for his dick. Tight, black coils mixing with the pale-yellow color of Barry’s hair. He opens Bruce’s ass and noses at it, first. Tickling the hole and blurring his vision further. Bruce bites his lip while stars dance overhead.

           Barry licks a stripe up his crack, darting quickly inside Bruce’s hole. “Do it again.” He does, longer, twisting against the wave-like motions of his fluttering muscles.

           “Y’know, I always wondered what bats tasted like…” Bruce snorts a laugh which quickly transitions into a moan when Barry slips a finger in where his tongue used to be. Vibrating and crooked, Barry finds Bruce’s prostate. He arches, sliding on his forgotten cape. Bruce claws at Barry’s scalp while a large drop of pre-come soaks into his hair. “You like that?”

           Someone answers for him. A voice crackles across nearby speakers, yelling throughout the room. An attempt at bursting the bubble he and Barry exist within. “Bruce! Barry! Do you copy?” Bruce recognizes the voice, but no name nor face appears in his mind besides Barry’s. “I repeat – do you copy! We’ve found the source of the distress signal and – Diana, on your right – and it’s a trap! We’re sending our coordinates for an extraction.” His voice, drenched with anger, weighs heavily on his good mood. Bruce’s smile falls as he stares at the red, blinking light on the console. “Hello? Is anyone even there –“

           Barry looks up from his hole, finger working a steady rhythm despite the interruption. “Doesn’t anyone have manners?” he scoffs, “We’re in the middle of something.”

           “Let me handle it.” Blindly, Bruce thumps his foot along the console. Pressing randomly at buttons until the red, blinking light snaps and fades; the voice along with it. Silence governs the machinery. “Done.”

           “Beautiful…” Barry wraps his free hand around Bruce’s ankle and brings it close, kissing the side of his foot. “Thank you.”

           “Thank me by adding another finger.” He listens, the second digit stretching his hole. Barry scissors it open, Bruce’s toes curling from the act. “Yeah…”

           “Hey, man, don’t let me do all the work,” Barry says, smirking, “play with yourself a little.”

           “Hmm…” Bruce slides his hand out of the other man’s hair, loosely gripping his straining dick. It pulses with urgency, a steady leak coating a match of skin that grows when Bruce messily coats it along the rest of his purpling cockhead. “Oh, Barry,” he hisses, jerking, “can you…”

           “Can I what?”

           “Stick it in me. I want your cock in me.”

           “Skipping ahead? And they say I’m fast.”

           “Too long…” Bruce admits, shivering when Barry lays his hand over Bruce’s and helps stroke his dick. “Wanted this… for too long.”

           Barry cools, fingers half-inside Bruce and stopping him from continuing the rub of his dick. Bruce whines, low in his throat, asking why Barry stopped. “Sorry,” he whispers, a light bursting behind the fog of his eyes. Like someone lit a torch in a lighthouse, so weary sailors could find their way home. “Sorry I… a thought zipped by me.”

           “What kind of thought?”

           “Well,” Barry wiggles a tiny gesture with his hidden hand, Bruce’s knee bending from the bundle of nerves he hit. “When you said that, it was funny because I’ve always felt the same. So that thought that raced by – the one that happened just then – it was me wondering why, if we wanted each other… why we never did this?”

           Bruce dives into the pools of his memories for a reason. Except they’re dark, inaccessible, covered in a film that prevents Bruce from knowing any other time that isn’t now. In the heat of the moment, too long meant from when Barry removed his cowl to laying on his back with Barry’s fingers in his ass. If Bruce could see what his mind hides, he doubts there aren’t a thousand scenes like this waiting. The idea of he and Barry not enjoying each other’s bodies proves laughable, which is why he snickers generously. “We’re doing it now,” Bruce tells him, caressing Barry’s chin, “isn’t that what matters?”

           “Yeah… you’re right.”

           “Good. Now, stop worrying,” Bruce says, “there’s nothing to worry about. Us fucking’s all that matters.”

           Barry nods, nose wrinkling from the effort of a great whiff. Light dies behind his gaze once more; blue dulled and cloudy, hidden behind sagging lids. “Yeah, I wanna fuck.”

           “Then fuck me.”

           He wastes no time flipping Bruce onto his chest. Bruce pushes up onto his elbows, leaning all his weight to one side while he grabs his dick. Nearly falling, hitting his chin on the hard metal, when Barry shoves his cock into Bruce with reckless abandon. Aim true, he grazes the prostate and vibrates.

           Bruce twists his dick, crying from the pleasure. His spastic jerking skips a beat with every forceful thrust past Bruce’s rim. Barry keeps him steady with a firm grip on his waist. Pain disappearing with each second as ecstasy rises and rises like a volcano. Trembling, sweaty and straining, Bruce knows he will come after some more humping.          

           Except, also aware of Bruce’s impending orgasm, Barry taps into his speed and in quick succession spears Bruce repeatedly. Mashes his prostate like the button on a controller.

           He screams, orgasm ripped from him. Bruce coats his hand and stains the cape below, collapsing onto it when the act drained him of any remaining strength. Barry, wasting his endurance with the finishing blow, follows Bruce’s lead. Pulls out and comes over Bruce’s waiting back.

           Barry collapses atop Bruce, rolling off after a beat when he regains some wherewithal. Ejaculate painted on his chest from the brief embrace. They pant, side by side, while the smell of come mixes with the heady sweetness already present. Bruce breathes in a deep, contented sigh, shifting until he, too, rests on his back.

           Looking over at Barry, he finds the other’s eyes already on him. “Hey.”

           “Hey,” he says, smiling, “that was…”

           “It sure was.” A loud rumble cuts through the mood, both men giggling from the sound. “Was that you or me?”

           “Depends. You hungry?”

           “Starving,” Bruce yawns, raising his arms overhead. “I can definitely eat, like, a lot…”

           Barry nods, sitting up. “I can go get us some food and bring it back here,” he suggests, stepping over towards the exit. Pauses at the door to glance back at Bruce. “Maybe have some more sex after we eat.”

           “Definitely have more sex.”

           He winks, “Be back in a flash.” Barry leaves, then, Bruce alone in the strange, metal cave he and Barry began in.

           Rising, Bruce inspects the area while scratching at the come drying on his stomach with his come-covered hand. He yawns and blinks blearily at the only section of the area not covered in grey. Pink blossoms covered a long rectangle, specks of green from their vines popping up where the petals didn’t overlap. Bruce reaches forward, except an invisible barrier blocks his attempt. Sucking on the finger, he pouts. “Bummer.”

           Disappointment fades, Bruce reminded of his hunger with another growl. “I could really use something to eat,” he mutters, turning and leaving the cockpit.

           On his directionless journey, no destination set in mind, Bruce comes across another wall of those pink flowers. Barry studies them from nearby, a strange expression that wrinkles his gorgeous features. “Careful,” Bruce says, walking over, “you can’t touch those.”

           He raises a brow, brushing a finger against one of the petals. Bruce stares in awe, copying Barry. Flinches slightly when he thinks he hits the barrier again. Except there is none, so he pets a lone flower. He plucks it and twirls it between his fingers, smiling.

           “I was going... somewhere,” Barry explains, “but then I noticed… are these – are these supposed to be here?”

           “They’re very pretty,” Bruce says, dragging Barry’s face towards his, “Like you.” He places the flower in the crook of the speedster’s ear, hand tracing a simple pattern on his cheek that he seals with a kiss. “Why shouldn’t it be here?”

           Barry thins his lips in a serious frown, eyes clearing up. Suddenly, though, they hear a low rumble from nearby.

           Turning, all the flowers on the vines puckered. Buds closed and asleep. But then they explode, showering them with yellow dust that drifts through the air and dissipates. Leaving only a sweet trace of having existed, briefly.

           Bruce coughs, “That was weird…” A whining from his stomach distracts him, though, knocking the eruption out of his thoughts. “Hey… was that you or me?”

           Wobbling on his heels, Barry shrugs. “Depends. You hungry?”

           “Definitely. I can eat, like, a lot…”

           Barry jerks his thumb behind him. “Let’s see if we can scavenge something. And then we can have sex.”

           “Yes!” Bruce pulls Barry in for a passionate kiss, squeezing his stiff cock. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

           “Since when?”

           “Since always…” Barry begins leading Bruce away from the flowers. However, before they fully leave its presence, Bruce snatches another flower. Stares down at it while unaware of his surroundings. Sniffs the heavenly perfume and wades in the thick molasses that is his mind. He tucks it behind his ear. Lets go of Barry’s hand and ensnaring his waist, pumping his cock while they walk. Barry laughs at the gesture. “Since as long as I can remember…”

                                   -----------------------------------------

           Diana clears a path for them through the jungle brush with wide sweeps of her sword, taking over for John when his ring warned his battery wore thin. He hadn’t recharged since they left the K’zvig Nebula. Thankfully, there was enough for the side job they picked up on the way home.

           “Stupid bandits,” John bats a low-hanging branch out of his sight, spluttering when it launches an attack and whacks him in the face. He growls, snapping it from the tree. “Why couldn’t it have been a natural disaster or an accident… but no, we had to deal with bandits.”

           Clark offers a comforting shrug. “At least we made sure they wouldn’t fool any more travelers.”

           The distress signal, in reality, laid a trap for any passing ships that heard it. Reeling prey towards the bandit camp where their goods and lives were stolen. When they sent that message, the bandits wanted to intercept a passing military vessel from a nearby planet, carrying a rumored experimental weapon. By mistake, they latched onto the frequency the Javelin used.

           Being the heroes they are, the bandits contended with forces far above their weight class. But they put up a strong fight. Incapacitated Clark early on in the fight and bracketed J’onn with imitation fire, both products of the local fauna; they weaponized nature against them. With John’s power running low, Diana’s quick thinking saved the day. She recognized a nearby plant from a mishap they had on their path towards the bandit camp and lassoed it, kicking the large seed from inside the bulb and watching it explode where their numbers were the largest. After that the group collected runaway stragglers and radioed for the local law enforcements.

           “Hopefully,” John sighs, “Although I still think we should have stayed with them until they were taken away.”

           “You know we couldn’t. Bruce and Barry might need us.”

           They were all unnerved by the lack or response from their friends. Neither when they reached out during the attack nor when it ended did they answer. Each subsequent ignored call fueled the necessity for a quick retreat from the planet.

           John identified a rock formation he spotted when they first arrived, and realized they were close. Although he knew nothing about what they would find when stumbling upon their ship.

           “John? Clark? I think you two should take a look at this…”

           Diana’s voice sunk any positivity he could have spun. The two men exchanged glances while darting through the underbrush, stepping into the clearing behind Diana and J’onn. “What the hell happened?”

           Reminiscent of a parade float, flowers and vines fully blanketed the Javelin. Across the front, twining around its wings, and crawling inside through the open bay doors. Their ride made completely useless by overgrown weeds.

           “Well,” Diana sighs, “I guess we know what happened to the others.”

           Clark frowns, “Really? You think they’re still inside?”

           “I detect two brain patterns within,” J’onn says, hands at his temples, “Though faint… I recognize them as Barry’s and Bruce’s…”

           Diana nods, drawing her blade once more. “It shouldn’t take too long, then.” She advances, sword at the ready. John watches Diana raise her weapon, about to strike, when he notices the flowers retract in a defensive position.

           “Diana! Watch out!” Regardless of his energy levels, John shoots off a green rope and wraps around his friend’s waist. Pulls her from the path of the flower’s spray, pollen exploding out of its mouth. He drags Diana towards him and creates a bubble around all four while more and more flowers expel their pollen.

           “I almost…” Diana tucks her sword in its scabbard, nodding at John. “Thank you.”

           Clark touches the bubble, grazing his fingers at where the pollen collects on its surface. “What the hell is this?”

           John glares at the now greenish-pink flowers waiting, their petals pointed and ready for another puff. His ring speaks aloud, reminding him of his current situation. “Ring,” he asks it, “can you search the database and see if you can find information on what kind of flowers we’ve got on our hands?”

           His ring assents, tacking on a second warning at the end. John waves it off. More concerned with whether or not the shield will last given his power and not with the power, itself.

           “Flowers that have seven hyper-pigmented pink petals, yellow, explosive pollen and an overly sweet aroma are known as Lyossus Blossoms. Native to the planet Rylyn IX, they are used by inhabitants and visitors recreationally, in religious ceremonies, and medical procedures because of the pollens’ effect on the human body. By sensing danger using the longest petal, these flowers’ defense mechanism neutralizes any aggression they sense. Ingesting pollen – whether by breathing it in, eating it, or even letting it touch your skin, as a human – will neutralize both the pre-frontal cortex and hippocampus. And adrenaline levels will fall while dopamine rises.”

           Clark chuckles, “This is space weed?” Three sets of glares focus on him, stifling his good mood. “Sorry.”

           “Ring,” he continues, “Is there any serious harm for humans who are exposed to this pollen.”

           “In the short term, no. However, overexposure can lead to death by starvation and dehydration, as the person loses inner drive to fulfill either of those needs.”

           “Like the lotuses from the Odyssey…” Diana crosses her arms, studying the field. “It took all of Odysseus’s willpower to resist that temptation. I’m sure if we stride forward, we can resist the effects long enough to activate the ship’s defenses.”

           John shakes his head, “That’s too risky Diana. You heard my ring; it can be absorbed through the skin. We need to think of another way.” His ring darkens briefly, shield glitching. A few spores burst through that the group are careful in avoiding. “And think of it fast.”

           “Hey,” Clark says, looking around the bubble, “Where’s J’onn?”

           A tiny explosion draws their attention. One section of the vines holding their ship captive bursts into flames, the flowers withering into ash. “Apologies,” J’onn speaks in their minds, calm as ever, “I figured taking action was the best possible course rather than discuss it. Since I can become intangible and have laser vision… it will not be too difficult clearing this away.”

           “That… makes sense.” John smirks, shrugging, “Carry on then.”

           J’onn mows through the plants while the others wait, contemplating how they can disperse the remaining pollen. When the Martian telepathically communicates his accomplishment, John brings down the shield. Clark blows once the first hole appears, scattering the yellow dots everywhere except their ship.

           “Bruce and Barry, J’onn?” John asks, “Are they still inside?”

           He lands beside them by the bay doors, fully visible and solid. “I can definitely sense them, but their thoughts are still muddled… my best guess, there remains an abundance of pollen within the ship.”

           “Can’t incinerate that without blowing up the ship…” John presses his ring against the metal, pouring all his willpower into the flickering jewelry. “Ring, do you have enough power to connect with the ship’s systems and activate the air filtration system?” It beeps once, a ‘yes’ without risking energy. He waits. Listens while the Javelin rattles and wheezes. His friends stand clustered behind him, their presence a necessary anchor while he remains focused on his ring.

           Finally, it beeps again. “Cabin air has been recycled. All outside toxins are safely stored for disposal. Power at zero percent.”

           John sags, Clark catching him. “You did good, John.”

           “Don’t feel too good.”

           “You need your rest,” she says, “which you will get once we’re back on ship. Although… first we should check on our friends. Make sure they’re fine.”

           Clark snickers under breath, muttering. “Bruce… high on space weed… this I have to see…”

           The group climb aboard their ship, careful stepping over the ashen remains of flowers caught in J’onn’s laser vision. Soon the ash lessens, replaced with discarded wrappers and bottles the closer they move towards the cockpit. Hushed laughter reaches their ears from behind the door, each of them exchanging looks. Diana, at the front, hits the panel that opens it.

           Bruce and Barry, both naked, turn from their seats at the head of the cockpit. Barry’s foot rested in Bruce’s hands, mid-massage, while their faces were blank and muddied due to the pollen’s effects. The last two flowers rested in their hair.

           “Hey,” Bruce says, turning and showing off his genitals, “welcome to the party.”

           Clark nearly drops John from the shock, grip slack. But then it becomes too tight, Clark gazing at the machinery on the side instead of at his friend’s unabashed display.

           “Bruce, Barry,” Diana coughs, gracefully composed given the situation, “are either of you… okay?”

           They exchange twin looks of confusion, Barry pointing at himself and asking, “Are you talking to us?”

           “Christ,” Clark hisses, John’s bones straining under his hold, “what did they get up to while we were out?”

           John takes in the discarded clothing, especially Bruce’s soiled cape, and pieces a few visuals together. He shudders once its complete. “Nothing we should ever think about again. Ever.” He clears his throat, “J’onn? Can you handle… whatever this is?”

           “I can remove the flowers, but do not believe my powers can shake them from this stupor.”

           “Allow me,” she tells the others, brandishing her lasso, “I would like to try something.”

           J’onn nods, disappearing through the floor. Bruce and Barry crow with glee, latter applauding his trick. In the next breath he appears behind them on the outside of the Javelin. He removes their accessories, safely dumping them before their pollen could release.

           With those gone, Diana tosses her lasso on the parts where their bodies are the closest: Bruce’s hand and Barry’s foot. She pulls tight, wrapping the excess around her knuckles. “Listen to me friends,” Diana croons, soft and gentle as if she coaxes woodland creatures into the light. “Remember who you really are. Let the golden perfect wash away what has been done to you, so you can return.”

           Her lasso glows with godly light, John’s vision overcome. He closes his eyes, but the light penetrates it still. Suddenly it disappears, and he blinks away the spots. In their seats, Bruce and Barry sit slumped over and unconscious. Diana gathers her lasso, clipping it onto her belt. “If this works, they should be themselves again.”

           Barry awakens first. His head jumps up and his gaze bounces around the room with lightning speed. “The mission,” he asks, standing, “what happened with the –“ He steps on a lone boot, and that helps Barry realize his current state. “Holy -!” Collapsing on the seat, Barry snatches the boot and covers his waist. Curls in on himself, thinking it might help. Splotchy redness spreads over his shoulders and knees.

           They already saw enough.

           Bruce follows soon after, face darkening as he stares at his exposed genitalia. He growls low in his throat, “What… happened.”

           “You were under the influence of the local flora,” J’onn tells them, “and it caused you to… well –“

           “You were space stoned!” Clark rips the band-aid off, earning more of the ire Bruce originally shot Barry’s way. “Can you,” he turns his head, “Can you please go put your clothes back on?”

           He stands, collecting the fallen pieces of his costume. Folds the cape without addressing the obvious stain on it. Then Bruce storms out of the cockpit, a noticeable blush highlighting the roundness of his cheeks.

           J’onn places a hand on Barry’s shoulder, startling him. “You should probably get dressed, too.”

           “Yep!” Barry nods, “Yeah, I’ll… if you will all excuse me.” Because of his powers, no one sees Barry leave. Absence marked by the empty chair and invisible uniform.

           John rips himself free from Clark’s grip, taking seat at the helm. “While they… freshen up, we should probably begin take-off. Otherwise we’ll be trapped with more of those flowers and who knows what else.” He flips a few switches, careful with his touch. “J’onn? Can you co-pilot?”

           “Of course.”

           Clark and Diana fall in behind them, a heated discussion brewing between them. John eavesdrops, muscles in control of following through the procedures.

           “So, what does this mean for our bet?”

           “What do you mean?”

           “Well, Bruce and Barry did it. But… does it count?”          

           “I don’t see why it shouldn’t?”

           “Because they were under the influence of a plant. Did what they do really come from them acting on repressed feelings or because the pollen made them sexually charged and they were the only ones here?”

           “That shouldn’t discount what happened. It’d be the same if they got drunk or high on Earth… if Barry could get drunk, or high, that is…”

           John sighs, flipping the final switch on the console. He drags the yoke close to his chest, steady while the Javelin rises. “I think it should count,” John adds, startling Clark and Diana, “that way I get my money. Why do you think I made them stay behind anyway?”

[holy-kingdom-of-faerghus]

Ingrid’s Second Chance

Prompt: Ingrid betrays her country and her friends. She falls in love and dies for it. She fought for the better of Fodlan so why did she feel so much regret? 

The Black Eagle Strike Force marched ahead merrily, Byleth and Edelgard in the lead as they prepared for the incoming battle with Faerghus and the Church of Seiros. Victory from their last few battles filled them all with confidence, the end of the war on the tips of their tongues. 

Ingrid schooled her expression as the royal blue of Faerghus’s banners became visible in the distance. She knew who waited on the other side of the enemy lines, her close friends now enemies; Dimitri, Sylvain, Mercedes, Dedue. All of them had shared food and spent days laughing alongside each other. But not today she supposed as she clutched Luin in her hand. 

A sleek gray ribbon was wrapped around the lance’s shaft-- Felix’s hair tie. It had been she who slew her friend in Arianrhod, His harsh words echoing in her mind, he had called her a traitor, turning her back on her people, her friends, her word, and most of all Glenn. He couldn’t understand that she was doing what she thought was right. She was sure that Glenn would see from her perspective had he been alive. But then again she supposed that even if he had agreed with her views he would never help her-- help Edelgard. 

Her gloved fingers reached up to rub the ribbon gently, it reminded her of her past. Of days in the training yard in Fraldarius, Glenn helping her tie her blonde tresses back before they began yet another grueling training session. Tears pricked at her eyes as more memories flooded her head. 

She was in Galatea now, sitting on her comfortable bed, a letter from Felix in hand. He had written her promising that he wouldn’t be a knight. Telling her that all they were good for was dying for the sake of something so silly as chivalry. She remembers the white hot anger coursing through her veins as she read. 

Suddenly Edelgard’s demanding tone filled the air distracting her from her thoughts. 

“Right, there’s no time to be sentimental now Ingrid. You’re on a battle field.” 

Edelgard was warning her army that the battle would begin as soon as they neared the first squadron of Kingdom soldiers. This gave Ingrid enough time to clip any stray strands out of her face, steel her nerves, and reassure her steed. 

“Glenn would’ve loved you.” She thought solemnly as she patted the snow white pegasus below her. “Damn it.” She cursed, once again ridding her head of her somber thoughts. “Get your head in the game Galatea.” Her heart stopped as the name slipped off her tongue, her mind imagining the hungry yet hopeful people of her fathers territory. The smiles on their faces when she told them that one day she would bring them enough food for a feast. She remembered tussling in the dry dirt of her farmlands, easy laughter escaping her lips. 

“Ingrid.” The pained expressions her servants wore when they watched her eat her filling dinner. 

“Ingrid.” The neighing of the knights pegasi as they traversed the Galatean skies.

“Damn it Ingrid snap out of it!” A hand was waving in front of her face, bringing her back to reality. Caspar’s wyvern was hovering beside her, its rider leaning over so that he was very close to her. “There we go! Finally back with us yeah?” He smiled his ever present cheery grin. “We’ll be heading in a few minutes, make sure you’re here with us by then okay?” He then waved at her before soaring over to Byleth’s side, yelling some sort of joke as he went. The blonde sighed before gently nudging her steed forward, easily falling into formation. 

“Ingrid, you’re with me.” Byleth commanded from the ground, his voice clear and to the point, though there was a tinge of concern mixed in. He pulled something from his pocket and held it up to her. 

“Right, oh what’s this professor?” She lowered to the ground and reached over to take the item in his hand. “A-A ring?” It was a light silver band, it had many ruins engraved into it, but they were too small to decipher. A flush coated her cheeks, not believing it to be real. 

“It’s an evasion ring, I know how hard this battle will be for you so I’m hoping this will help you evade anything that comes your way.” Though his tone remained neutral, the look in his eyes was something akin to sincerity... or was that something else? “I’ll do my best to keep you safe but even I can’t promise that I can do the same for your heart.” She smiled at his well meaning words and allowed him to slip the ring over her leather clad finger. 

“Thank you professor, in turn I will watch your back. Please don’t worry about me, I knew what taking this route would entail.” Byleth gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her but refused to push. Edelgard’s war cry was then heard and they ran into battle.

Her armor was tattered, cuts marring her pale skin, rain drops sliding off her face and lips, the stench of blood and metal in the air. Despite the discomfort she felt, she charged onwards, never yielding. Not even when she pierced through soldiers that she trained with as a child, not when she tore her javelin from Mercedes’s sopping corpse. However the loud voice that called her name caused her hands to become clammy. She halted for a moment, paying no mind to Byleth’s worried glances. Her forest green orbs searched the bloody terrain until her gaze fell on the one who yelled her name with so much heartache.

It was Sylvain, riding into battle a top his beloved steed Berg (short for Bergamot, but he refused to let anyone besides his close friends know its full name). His wild red hair was matted to the sides of his face, rain drops cascading down his armor. His honey like eyes were filled with betrayal as he neared her. Gautier’s Lance of Ruin in his hand, glowing eerily in the cold light.

“Stand down Ingrid, I know you don’t want to die here.” He pleaded with her, his eyes swirling with desperation, heart ache, and love. The look had her grip on Luin loosening, though she clenched her hands, reminded herself that every action had consequences and that this was one of hers. Her own heart breaking within her chest she forced a hateful glare on her face and said the very words that caused Sylvain’s mask to crumble.

“I will not. I will never ally myself with the likes of you.”

His upper lip curled up in disgust (for a second she swore she saw Felix’s face instead) as he looked at her for the first time and truly saw her for the person she had become. A bitter smile formed as he raised his lance and prepared to strike. 

“Stubborn as always. I always did like that about you.” He lunged forwards, relic extending to pierce through her. But she was too quick for him and forced her pegasus to barrel roll out of the way. Breathlessly she huffed out her last words to him before utilizing her own relics full power. 

“And you never cease to amaze me with your false flattery. Don’t waste your breath.” Pushing as much of her spirit and strength into her strike as she could she then zoomed forward and pierced her friends heart in one fell swoop; her crest fading away as she realized what she had just done. “Oh Sylvain... it shouldn’t have come to this.” 

Sylvain fell from his steed, crumpling to the grassy field beneath him. Blood leaked from his fatal wound, a sharp cry escaping bloodied lips. His eyes were glazed as he glanced up at the sky above, his mouth muttering soundless words. Ingrid felt tears well up in her eyes at the sight, silently streaming down her face. As he exhaled his last breath she made out a few of his words. 

Felix, a promise, His Majesty, an apology, then nothing.

She hopped off her pegasus and knelt beside his corpse, gently shutting his glazed over eyes with two fingers. Not for the first time since she chose this path she felt her heart twinge with regret and she wondered again if she had chosen right.

“Ingrid are you all right?” 

Byleth slid to a stop beside her, the Sword of the Creator in hand. One glance at Sylvain’s body and he immediately knew. He moved to obscure her view of the corpse and placed his glowing palms on both sides of her face.

“Stay still and I’ll heal you.” A few seconds later the pain across her body dulled immensely. “Do you think you’re still in fighting condition? You may retreat if not.” She blinked at his words, letting out a shaky sigh before flashing him a determined look. 

“I can still fight... I just needed a moment to collect myself.” She promised, turning her head away from her teacher. “I-I came this far already. I need to see this battle through.” A sympathetic look flashed in the mans eyes before he nodded.

“Well then, come with me and we’ll finish this war with Faerghus. King Dimitri and the royal guard are the last obstacle before Rhea.” Ingrid nodded stoically, shaking the blood off her weapon and mounted her pegasus, following Byleth as she always had. For a split second she wondered where she would have been now if she hadn’t followed him into the Black Eagle house. Alas, she thought, it was too late for such thoughts, too much Faerghusi blood soaked her hands. 

She ushered her mount forward, adrenaline rushing through her veins. The man she had sworn to serve was just a little ways away from her, screaming at a newly killed Dedue as he collapsed to his knees, Dorothea’s Levin sword protruding from his chest. She couldn’t tell from this distance but she was sure that it was not just rain that soaked his face. 

How cruel, she thought, knowing all your friends died to protect you at the hand of a traitor. Her gut wrenched in horror as she realized how numerous her crimes were. 

Byleth was already forging ahead, swinging his whip like sword at the King. Dimitri dodged most of his slashes, but ended up getting a large slice in his cape. 

He twirled Areadbhar in his hands and expertly lunged at Byleth, his crest flaring up brightly behind him. Luckily, the professor saw it coming and rolled aside, the lance barely missing him. Their duel continued on for what seemed like forever (Ingrid was busy dealing with the royal guard so she wasn’t fighting against him yet), however, this also meant that fatigue was kicking in. For the first time during their duel (that she knew of) Byleth miscalculated his foes next attack and was about to be pierced by the legendary lance. Fearing that the strike would connect, Ingrid literally leapt from her pegasus, deftly threw Luin, then tackled Byleth to the side (knocking him unconscious along the way). Dimitri turned just enough that Luin only punctured his thigh, causing a guttural growl to escape him. This caused her to curl up and roll so that she could avoid further injuries. His gaze turned from Byleth to her, his sea blue eyes widening before narrowing again.

“Not only have you become the emperor's lap dog, but you have turned against your own people. How could you Ingrid, I thought you wished to be a knight? What would Glenn have said?” He heaved, yanking Luin from his thigh as if it were a tiny needle. It clattered to the ground beside him, it’s otherworldly glow slowly fading away. 

She gulped, picking herself up from the ground. The only other weapon she had was her javelin and a silver lance, her chances of beating him were next to none. Recklessly, she decided that she had to have faith in her allies and stall until they arrived to assist her. 

“Your ma-- no Dimitri.” She said thickly, sweat beading down her neck. “Edelgard has a reason for all of this, her war is to rid of the secret evil of Fodlan. G-Glenn would have understood why I did it. I know he would.” 

“So I see, you’ve become so desperate to believe you are seeing justice through that you’ve begun lying to yourself. Perhaps you and I are not so different my old friend.” He murmured lowly, an odd look in his wise eyes. Areadbhar’s crest stone gleamed evilly at his words. “Alas, no amount of lies can save you from the truth. You, Ingrid Brandl Galatea, are a traitor to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. As your king... it is my duty to execute you for high treason.” 

The two battled each other for a long while, long enough that Ingrid soon began to lose hope about reinforcements. She was not suited for fighting on foot, both she and her opponent knew this, so fatigue soon found her. Suddenly a harsh blow from Dimitri’s lance split her own silver one in two. Obscenities escaped her lips as she struggled to avoid his onslaught. However, the wet concrete beneath her caused her to stumble, which led her to slide... straight into Dimitri’s next attack. 

Burning hot pain flooded her entire nervous system as Areadbhar was shoved into her heart. Her gaze began to waver and soon she fell to the ground, her king standing over her. A small, breathless, laugh escaped her lips as memories flooded her mind. 

Snow days in Fraldarius with Felix and Glenn, sparring in Fhirdiad Castle with Dimitri and the Kingdom knights, late night talks with a younger Sylvain, hidden smiles from her father, Glenn’s lessons, shared laughs with the Blue Lions, warm tea with Byleth, oaths sworn to her new Adrestian comrades, Edelgard’s private advice before a hard battle. 

All these things filled her mind as she laid on the hard tile. She briefly wondered if this is what Ashe, Felix, Mercedes, Sylvain, and Dedue had felt like when they died. Did it hurt just as much for them? What did they see before they breathed their last? She supposed that she would never know. Or maybe she would see them again. Wherever it was people went after death. Was there an afterlife that Sothis reigned over? Ingrid wondered if the goddess would accept her soul there. Perhaps not, she thought, for she had joined the side that wished to kill her children after all. 

Her minds eye had never been clearer, she mused, a new thought surfacing. Perhaps all this heartache and suffering she had experienced and caused could have been avoided if she had chosen the Kingdom. Damn her naive teenage heart; Byleth was a wonderful man, one she had been so set on following to the ends of the earth, but not even he was worth all of this. So that being said...

“Y-you always b-beat me in t-training...If only... I stayed...” Ingrid confessed as the life left her, words only heard over the sounds of battle by a few others. Dimitri met her eyes and smiled sadly, a soft good bye leaving his lips. Byleth blinked groggily from his place on the side lines, noiseless tears escaping as he watched the one he so loved perish before him. 

Her words didn’t fall upon deaf ears however, Sothis’s power humming beneath his skin. He had used all of his divine pulses but he would give all his remaining energy if it meant he could grant her wish. 

Dimitri saw his movement from the corner of his eye, Byleth dropping his sword in surrender. With a tired sigh, he nodded towards the blonde’s body, one last mercy before he killed his professor. 

“Thank you.” Byleth hummed softly, sitting beside Ingrid’s corpse and pulling it onto his lap. He pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his mothers ring. He slid it onto her finger and rocked her close, apologies escaping him as he channeled all his remaining power into a final divine pulse. Behind him Dimitri poised his relic and prepared to strike. 

“I love you Ingrid. Sothis please grant our dying wishes, let her go back and have another chance.” 

A sharp movement, a lance through the heart, a splatter of blood, Edelgard’s heartbroken screams in the distance, Dimitri’s soft cries, a mournful lovers dying plead to the Gods, thuds of falling bodies, a clatter of a lance, and a flash of green light. 

Ingrid opened her eyes, a slight pain in her gut and a relieved feeling in her heart. Today was the day that the Blue Lions would be assigned their new professor! She sighed happily, the feeling of life flowing through her veins more welcome than before. She had a good dream but couldn’t remember what it was. The only thing she remembered hearing was “stay and second chance.” But it was probably nothing important... What was important was today’s breakfast! Stomach rumbling with hunger, she left her room to join her new house mates for breakfast. 

[windup-dragoon]

Guess who’s at it again? Me. A stupid drabble of Aymeric x Kirishimi. I’m not really sure when it takes place, probably a little bit after Heavensward. It features the Fantasy Squad; Illya, Shuri, and Laurelis. Really wish I could have written it better but I feel as if I’m forcing myself to write more than writing out of inspiration. Hopefully it isn’t too godawful to read. Anyway, enjoy. 

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕜

ᴬʸᵐᵉʳⁱᶜ ˣ ᴷⁱʳⁱˢʰⁱᵐⁱ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ¹,⁷⁰⁷

“That woman is insufferable!” An angry Estinien howled into the corridor of Fortemps manor. His heels stamped the polished floors with heavy footfalls as he marched himself back to the parlor. 

Alphinaud, Alisaie, and Haurchefant all but dropped their tea at such ferocity that bellowed. What war had they stumbled upon while enjoying fine pastries beside the fire? 

“... Do we dare ask?” Alisaie spoke in chosen quiet so only those among her could hear. 

Haurchefant, all smiles even in such turmoil, stifled a laugh. From over the back of the lounging chair the young man waved an encouraging gesture for his fellow to join them. “Pray, tell us what ails you!” Haurchefant grinned and eagerly patted the open seat at his side for Estinien. 

Before the former azure dragoon could decide his next course of action, however, another set of footfalls padded hastily behind. Estinien whirled on his heel, nearly stumbling into the parlor as his pursuer marched forth, lance in hand. 

“Insufferable? Yer the asinine bloke who walked in on me dressin’!” It was Kirishimi, radiating with annoyance and spitting venom. Her lance was raised above one shoulder, poised to be thrown like a javelin at the man before her. 

An audible gasp came from the audience. 

Estinien could do naught but duck behind a pedestal of arranged flowers to give her reason to hesitate. “Bah! I knocked, you daft girl! Moreover, you were fully clothed!” 

“I thought you were the maid comin’ back with that curtain of a dress!” Kiri hissed, “And under armor is just the same as bein’ undressed!” 

The trio at the hearth all sighed in relief. A misunderstanding at best. Everyone in attendance was aware of Kirishimi’s disinterest in wearing anything but armor. She likened it to a state of undress, no matter the layers she wore. Even now, standing at the mouth of the corridor in a woolen tunic and pants, Kirishimi held an arm around herself as if preserving herself. 

“Enough.” At last a voice of reason emerged. Count Edmont, standing at the Warrior of Lights side, dared to take hold of the lance she brandished. “If you must argue like barbarian children, then have the courtesy to do it outside.” Edmont sounded exhausted but wore a smile nevertheless. Such challenging interactions changed the pace in his life; a bit of excitement he hadn’t endured since his sons were but babes. 

“Aye!” Estinien roused to his full height, straightening his suit as if dust had suddenly accumulated. 

“Estinien, if I may?” Alphinaud set his tea aside before raising blue eyes to the dragoons. “Did you not say you came to deliver something? You made it sound urgent.” 

“...Yes.” Sighed the man, abruptly remembering his composure. “Although I wouldn’t call it urgent.” From the depths of his breast pocket he produced the trinket he had been tasked to deliver. A golden partial mask of lace and blue hued jewels. Its design was simple enough but likened to that of a dragon. 

“Since this is a masquerade you will be attending, I thought it only suitable to have one made custom.” Edmont announced with a touch of pride. 

Kirishimi, having long since lowered her weapon, found herself staring blankly at the object in question. The curves the mask made to match cheekbones held sharp edges, layered with small golden metals that looked like scales. 

Such a small but precious thing. Her fingertips gingerly held it once Estinien handed it over outright, examining the small embedded sapphires that made it spark with radiance by light of the fire. A gift... for her. Already was Edmont having a dress tailored for her and now this? It all felt too much. She had done nothing to be so deserving of such lavished luxuries. 

“You have my thanks, Ser Estinien.” Edmont continued on while Kirishimi admired the craftsmanship of her gift. 

In return, Estinien gave a nod. 

“Now that no one has a desire to harm the other, perhaps we should continue to ready ourselves?” Alisaie, rising from the couch aside Alphinaud, smiled. “It won’t be long now before we will have to make our leave. And if you have no objections, I can help assist you, Kirishimi. Although such stately parties perplex me, I am no stranger to it nonetheless.” 

--- 

Kirishimi felt like a painted doll that evening. Her cheeks weighted down with a dusting of powder, lips sticky with a tasteless paint. Despite the hours they had spent deciding the fate of her hair, they had settled to leave it down, quicksilver locks cascading over the bare slopes of her shoulders. At least little, if anyone, took notice of the way she pouted with puffed cheeks beneath her dragon inspired mask. 

Before her was a landscape of vivid colored fabric and sparkling gilded jewelry. Not a single mask among the crowd was the same as another. She spotted some as chocobo in design, another a coeurl and even a behemoth with pearls to represent the gnashing fangs of such beasts. Beautiful and striking. But was it necessary? Did any of these party goers know the reality behind their masks inspiration? What a terrifying sound a behemoth could make? How ferocious a coeurl? Though when it came to the chocobo mask that Haurchefant adorned, Kirishimi could only smile. It seemed befitting of him. At least a chocobo could not maim. 

“You have the look of a leashed wolf.” A voice at her side startled Kirishimi out of thought. She had been sitting alone upon a bench beneath a window for some time, until now. Estinien now occupied a spot beside her, a mask with a wyverns aspect in ebony obscuring his own unamused features. 

“I feel foolish.” Kiri admitted in a sigh. She had been absently picking at the sparkles that dusted her midnight blue dress, her golden mesh clad fingertips looking as if she had touched the wings of a butterfly. 

“Indeed, you do.” He mused, chuckling lightly when Kirishimi nearly hissed. “How is it that your friends can enjoy themselves yet you sit alone sulking?” Estinien gestured to the crowd. 

Here and there she could spot them. Her beloved friends, chatting and dancing, drinking in the elegance of the night. Illya and Alphinaud having a bashful conversation beside an overflowing bouquet of lively flowers. Kirishimi could practically hear Illya praising the plants for producing such exquisite petals. Shuri had struck up a conversation with Alisaie, both so lively and bursting with laughter. Laurelis being swept cheerfully away by Lord Haurchefant, eagerly occupying the floor with their dance. 

But this setting was more attuned for them. The others were well versed in such affairs as parties. They all looked so stunning in their gowns and attire; beautiful and enchanting. Comfortable. Kirishimi, meanwhile, had to enlist Alphinaud and Alisaie’s help just to attend. 

“They’re better adapted, I’m afraid.” Kirishimi closed her eyes and blew out a sigh. 

“Who is better adapted?” A familiar tone struck her ears. Warm and almost melodious. She would recognize it even in the midst of a thunderstorm. 

Immediately her eyes opened, revealing to her a recognizable face smiling down at her. Onyx hair curled at his cheeks and over his brow, his aquamarine eyes shimmering beneath a mask of painted sapphire and dusted in gold. The mask another dragon aspect, with horns that were lost in the curl of his hair. His smile, that damnable smile that made her heart flutter as if a bird, filled his features with warmth and delight. 

Quickly she glanced away, to Estinien at her side, only to discover the dragoon had long since vacated. That sly fox.

“Estinien made mention that you were alone. I apologize for not seeking you out sooner, Kirishimi.” Aymeric made an apologetic face, truly regretful. 

“No... Don’t be. I’m sure your time at social events is always spoken for.” She could see it now. The crowd of lords and ladies around him, beckoning for his attention over political or personal conversations. It had occurred to her that seeking him out was an option upon arrival, but hesitation made her falter. Instead she found herself visiting the table of decorated pastries and glittering glasses of crimson wine. 

Aymeric suddenly took to his knee, eye level with the woman before him. His gloved hand embraced hers, holding hers as if he had captured a firefly. Delicately. 

“There was not a moment I hadn’t searched the crowd for you. Imagine my fear when I thought perhaps you were not in attendance.” If anyone else had spoken such fanciful words, Kirishimi would have assumed it a lie. No one wants to spend a lavish party like this with a woman of her standard. But Aymeric had such a way about him. Every word whispered was heartfelt, true, and meaningful. She was compelled to believe him which made her heart drum beneath her chest. Such an elated feeling... To be wanted. 

“Then do you care to sit beside me?” She offered with a shy smile tugging at her painted lips. 

“No.” His answer was immediate, just as pronounced as he rose to his feet once more, her hands still clasped in his. “Rather, I have a better idea in mind. If you will indulge me?” 

Before she knew it, Aymeric had pried her from the bench. He spirited her through the throngs of people who whispered beneath decorated masks. Briskly walking hand-in-hand beside party goers who all froze mid sentence. 

The silence was deafening. All the life had faded from the crowd, even the music having hushed. She could only hear the hum of her heart and the clicks of her heels against the polished floors while trailing behind Aymeric. 

But soon they came to a stop. Lord Haurchefant and Laurelis, having had stopped mid dance, smiled brightly now that the two had joined them on the dance floor. 

Music once again started. Soft at first, a whisper over the murmur of the crowd. Aymeric whirled on his heel to again face Kirishimi, his fingers laced with hers while his other arm fastened around her waist, drawing her close. 

“Dance with me?” 

Kirishimi, feeling the sensation of a blush burning her cheeks, could only smile at such an innocent request. “Of course.” 

[freelancer-chronicles]

This one was adorable, and a nice insight into Zoe.

The javelin’s faceplate crashed to the ground, cracking cleanly in half.

“Bollocks!” Zoe grumbled, snatching back the elbow that had bumped the mask off the cluttered kitchen table. Reaching for the fallen pieces, she glanced at the clock. She was running out of time to finish this before she had to head in to work at the Forge.

“Language, Mum,” reminded the light of Zoe’s life. “If I can’t say that at school, you can’t say it, either.”

“Bollocks to that in my own house, and it’s barely a swear, at that,” Zoe sighed, tossing the pieces onto the equally crowded counter. “How is it I’m doing this when you’re the one who wants a new Colossus mask?”

“‘Cause you’re a javelin mechanic,” Anden replied with a 12-year-old’s confident authority.

“Gluing bits of random stuff together is harder than building a real one.” Zoe stretched, her knuckles brushing the pitted wall of the apartment’s small dining area as she breathed in the aromas of craft paint and the grilled cheese sandwiches they’d made for lunch. “Why can’t you wear your blue Ranger mask again? We did such a good job on it.”

“It’s better for a little kid. Really badass Freelancers pilot Colossus suits.”

“All my Freelancers are badass, thank you kindly, and why can we say ‘badass’ but not ‘bollocks’? Bring me that glue, would you?”

Anden rolled his eyes as he maneuvered through snug kitchen to plop the glue jar on the tabletop.

“Well, when I’m a Freelancer, I’m piloting a Colossus.”

Zoe stifled a sigh as Anden mentioned his long-held dream. Again. If he could see the javelins she repaired, torn apart and burned by creatures, human and otherwise, that assaulted her Freelancers every day, he might not be so keen.

“Can you hold that steady so I can glue it…yeah, there.”

“Speaking of javelins...” Anden’s tone suggested she probably wouldn’t like whatever idea was coming. “I was thinking maybe I could come to the bonfire outside the gates with you this year…”

Zoe’s eyebrows shot up. “Were you now? I thought you’d want to enter the family bonfire’s mask contest.”

Anden’s hair, the same red-brown as Zoe’s and growing longer by the week, fell in front of his eyes as he shook his head. “The family bonfire’s tiny. And for little kids...”

“And safe,” Zoe added.

“Yeah, because it’s in the middle of the Fort,” Anden scoffed. “The real Season of Skulls bonfire is the only time we can go outside the walls with the Freelancers.”

“Who are working extra duty to keep skorpions away,” Zoe shot back. “People at the gate bonfire have to be able to take care of themselves.”

“I can take care of myself.” Anden said defensively. “You know all the Freelancers there, Mum. This is a great chance for you to introduce me to someone who’d make a good mentor.”

Zoe slammed the lid back on the glue jar with a bit more force than necessary. “If you need my help to get a costume helmet together, you’re not ready to get near a real javelin.”

Anden’s lanky frame swelled as he sucked in an indignant breath. “And how do I get near a real javelin if I never start training?”

“I am not having this conversation” Zoe huffed. She slid the helmet in Anden’s direction and stood. “If you’re mature enough for the gate bonfire, you can paint your own bleeding mask this afternoon while I run to the Forge—”

“But Mum, it’s a holiday! Why do you have to work?”

“Because Lucky Jak had another ursix run-in, and his Ranger needs a quick fix before he takes it back out on bonfire patrol tonight.”

Under his scraggly bangs, Anden’s eyes lit with hope. “Wait—if I’m mature enough...does that mean you’re taking me to the gate bonfire?”

“If you finish your mask, and if you get there on time.” Zoe scooped her gear from its crowded shelf and smiled despite herself as Anden yelled “Yes!” and punched the air. She unzipped her duffel to find the bits she’d gathered to make her own—unfinished—Interceptor mask. The joys of parenting, she thought ruefully as she emptied the bag onto the shelf. At least Anden’s mask would be nice. If he managed to finish it.

“Where’s the orange paint, Mum?”

“Third shelf here, in the box with the turquoise we bought for mine,” called Zoe, slinging the duffel over her shoulder.

“I’ll be a couple hours, so it’s probably best if you can meet me by the gate, OK? You know how to get there?”

“Yep,” Anden said distractedly, as he dug through the box of paints.

Zoe paused at the door. “You need to be on time, okay? It’s a big deal to get people outside the walls, even if it’s just outside the gate. The Sentinels and Freelancers need to know the crowd size to keep track of everyone.”

“Got it.” The tip of Anden’s tongue stuck out as he dabbed paint on the mask.

“See you there, then. Love you, boyo.”

“Yep, love you, too…” Anden didn’t look up as Zoe hurried out the door.

As the sun set behind the walls of Fort Tarsis, Zoe shouldered her way through the crowds that flowed towards the gate. The damage to Jak’s javelin had been worse than he’d let on, and now she was late—after she’d nagged Anden to be on time, dammit, and wasn’t that the story of her parenting life?

She wove through the narrow street and eased around a couple in… were those supposed to be wolven masks? Anden had made a better wolven when he was six—which he sure isn't anymore, she thought with a sigh.

She should’ve put her foot down and dragged him to the family bonfire one more year, but his mentor question had thrown her for a loop. The cheek! Maybe some of her Freelancers could share battle stories to give him a reality check. Not Jak, though—the stories he and his partner Rythe told usually made their dangerous missions sound a bit too fun.

The main gate came into view as Zoe squeezed around a final corner. Torches flickered in the darkening twilight along the sturdy wall that protected Fort Tarsis. The stinging smoke made her eyes water as she searched the crowd…and saw no sign of Anden. Had he lost track of time again, or did something happen…?

“Brave seasons!” boomed a Sentinel. “We gather this night to breach the wall, to light the flames that drive out the darkness and cower our enemies. Let us celebrate another year of survival!”

The revelers pressed towards the gate, eager to experience the dangerous thrill of venturing outside the wall that kept all manner of savagery at bay. Zoe craned her neck, hoping to see the flash of orange that was her Colossus among the many flashes of orange in the crowd.

“Mum!”  

Frustration replaced worry as she spotted a gangly arm waving from under an admittedly-pretty-good-looking Colossus helmet.

“There you are. What happened to ‘Yes, Mum, I’ll be on time’?”

“I know, but—”

“It’s all right,” she sighed, feeling a flash of hypocrisy. The gate’s open now, so we need to just go. I’d take your mask off till we’re outside—it’s hard to see while people are squishing through.”

Anden pulled his carryall closer and gripped his helmet protectively as they shuffled through the gate. His brown eyes flashed with excitement, awe, and a hint of fear as the crowd began to flow away and he realized they were actually outside the gates.

The crowd parted, hushing as two Sentinels strode towards the enormous pile of wood that would soon be the fort’s biggest bonfire, brandishing torches as they called out “Brave seasons!”

“May their bones be picked clean!” the crowd roared in response.

Zoe hadn't been to the outside bonfire since Anden was born. While everyone else's attention was focused on the Sentinels, she scanned the darkness beyond the crowd for signs of danger.

“This is the best part,” Zoe whispered as she turned back to her son. “Even with the fuss getting here, I’m glad you get to see it.”

“Me, too, Mum. Woo!” Anden joined the cheer as the Sentinels lowered their torches and flames roared towards the sky.

“Whoa, that went up fast!”

“Yeah, I think they put some kind of accelerant on it.” She watched Anden’s face shine in the warm light. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s awesome. So now what happens?”

On cue, a band near the wall launched into a celebratory song.

“The party starts.”

Zoe toured a wide-eyed Anden to the heavily-laden food tables, beckoned by their savory aromas. Hawkers teased and challenged revelers to try their luck at games of chance. As they neared the stage where mask contests would soon be underway, Zoe cast periodic glances towards the darkness—the Sentinels and Freelancers had special bonfire patrols, but you never knew what the fire and noise might lure in.

“Whoa, look at those Colossus masks those guys have! See, Mum, I told you Colossus masks were the most badass.”

“Oh, they do look near the real thing!” The kids looked several years older than Anden, and she guessed they’d been working on their masks for more than just a week.

“Those are my people. Maybe we can talk about how to make my visor better!” Anden strode happily over to the group of teens, almost-but-not-quite skipping as he pulled on his helmet.

And there he goes, thought Zoe as she watched the group. She thought the tall, dark-haired girl was Rin, the niece of another mechanic she worked with. Several boys laughed and bragged, full of youthful confidence.

There’s safety in numbers, and it’s good for him to connect with other kids, she told herself. Further reflecting that refreshments might distract a worrying brain, she turned and strolled towards a cider vendor. She hadn’t walked for long when Anden reappeared at her side.

“That was quick. Get any good building hints?”

“Nah, not really,” Anden replied quietly. “They said mine was okay for a kid, and then they kind of… stopped talking to me.”

Zoe’s heart pulled. “Don’t give them too much credit, boyo. It’s not like they’re real javelin mechanics.”

Anden shrugged in response, his eyes cast down to the gravel at their feet.

“How about some caramel corn?” Zoe tried, hoping to distract him from the hurt she could almost feel radiating off his rangy body.

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”

“What about some cider? It’s always freshly pressed and piping—” A scream ripped the air, and the crowd turned as one towards the source: the group Anden had approached.

An eerily pale wolven had leapt from the shadows and clamped its jaws around the arm of a terrified girl.

“It got Rin!” cried a boy, as a pair of Freelancers charged past Zoe and Anden. The blast from the first Freelancer’s machine pistol slammed into the wolven’s side, jolting the girl’s arm free.

The Interceptor flew around the beast, hitting it with another pistol blast to draw it away. The second Freelancer pulled off the special “civilian” medical pack attached to her Ranger as she rushed towards the girl, who now lay in shock as blood poured from her arm.

The Interceptor hovered just above the fallen creature; as the pilot looked back towards the girl, the injured wolven lunged its head upwards, catching the javelin’s leg between its teeth.

The Ranger leapt to her feet while smoothly freeing her assault rifle. Her well-aimed shots to the beast’s head made it go limp. Zoe relaxed her protective grip on Anden.

As two more Freelancers sped by them to aid their colleagues, Zoe saw her son’s ashen face and pulled him into a hug.

“Will they be okay, Mum?” Anden mumbled into her shoulder.

“I hope so. Those Freelancers got to the lass quickly, and they’ve got backup now.”

“What about the Interceptor? Javelins are supposed to protect them, but...that was a lot of blood.”

“I’d guess that javelin will be in my shop first thing tomorrow. As for the Freelancer… well, Jameson’s pretty tough, and it would’ve been worse if Richards didn’t aim as well as she does.”

Zoe cupped his chin and lifted his eyes. “It’s their job—the wolven, the blood. All of it. That probably won’t be the most mangled javelin I work on tomorrow.”

Anden swallowed.

“I worry about them every day, and when I imagine you out there…” Zoe hugged him close again. “Not the easiest idea for a mum to handle.”

Anden returned her squeeze, then shifted so they looked at the bonfire side by side.

“Yeah, I think I get that better now, Mum.” Anden stared at the flames. “Are all wolven that big?”

“I’ve heard of bigger, but one of the Freelancers could probably tell you for sure.”

At the sound of heavy bootsteps on gravel, they turned to see a Ranger javelin with several noticeably clean-and-shiny spots on the plating striding towards them.

“Thought that was you, Zoe. You both all right?” he asked.

“We’re good, Jak, thanks for checking. How’s Jameson’s leg?”

“More than a scratch, but I’ve seen worse. There was this one time...” A glance at still-pale Anden halted his tale. “Hold on, is this young man your Anden? Hardly the wee lad I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, sir, I’m Anden. And you’re Lucky Jak, right?” Anden returned a small nervous smile. “Mum’s told stories about you.”

“Well, they must be good ones, as I am her favorite Freelancer.” Jak winked at Anden, then looked at the Colossus mask still gripped tightly in the boy’s hands. “That’s a good-looking helmet you’ve got.”

Anden looked down as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh... thanks. Mum did a lot of it.” He glanced up as the injured girl, now wrapped up on a stretcher, was carried past them.

“He finished it himself while I was in the shop this afternoon.” Zoe smiled. “Wanted to look sharp for his first outside bonfire.”

“You certainly got a memorable first bonfire story,” Jak said wryly. “Good thing you made a Colossus—we could use the backup.”

“Maybe not yet,” Anden said. He glanced at Zoe and they shared a sad smile.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you’ll be in good hands” Lucky Jak settled a friendly hand on Anden’s shoulder. ”No one knows javelins like your mum—and thanks for the rush job this afternoon, Zoe.”

“Anything for my favorite Freelancer.”

Jak smiled. “I’d best get it back to work.” Seeing Anden’s sober expression, he said, “That was a fright, lad, but remember why we’re out here. They’re still alive and we’re still alive. Surviving the fights makes us stronger.”

Anden was silent for a moment, then gave Lucky Jak a firm nod.

“That’s the way.” Jak returned the nod. “Brave season to you both!”

Anden’s serious eyes watched Jak resume his patrol, and Zoe hoped the concern in her own eyes wasn’t too obvious. “Ready to head home, love?”

Anden turned his head and held her eyes for a moment.

“Maybe not yet.” He pushed his chin up with a shade of defiance that made pride replace some of Zoe’s concern. “You said that cider was fresh?”

“Best of the year,” she replied warmly. “Shall we?”

“Wait—I almost forgot!” Anden started to open his pack, then paused. “I dunno, maybe it’s silly now, but… this is the reason I was late.”

“Don’t worry about that, it all—” Zoe stared at the mask Anden held, its turquoise surface glowing in the firelight.

“Oh, that color is beautiful! Wait, is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s my old Ranger mask. I felt bad you didn’t have one for the bonfire because you were helping me. I saw the paint you bought when I got the orange for my helmet, and I thought...well. Sorry it’s not a new one.”

Tears pricked the back of Zoe’s eyes. “Anden, this is lovely. Thank you so much.”

Anden smiled self-consciously. “No problem, Mum.”

Zoe quickly wiped her eyes and pulled the mask over her face. “We might need to get some caramel corn to go with the cider so we can show off our gorgeous masks in two lineups.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anden said, donning his helmet. He linked his arm through hers as they set off, the colors of their masks dancing in the flickering light.

Special thanks to Brianne Battye, Ryan Cormier, Mary Kirby, Cathleen Rootsaert, Jay Watamaniuk, Patrick Weekes, and my lads, with love.

[zakurei]

200 Followers Fanfic

Hello everyone! It’s finally here, the 200 followers fanfic! As you all voted, the scenario is “Ray falling sick while Zack tries to take care of her“.

Please enjoy this collab by Mod Jam and Mod Kami to celebrate 200 followers! And thank you for all the support this blog has received!

She could swear her neck was about to dislocate with how much she’s turning it from side to side. Like a pendulum, he stomps from one side of the room to the other with his arms folded up to his chest. A flurry of swears flies past the man’s lips as he paces the room erratically, hood thrown back as he scowls.

“What should I do…? Should I get more blankets? But what happens if I leave’n she needs somethin’...?” Scarred hands irritably rake through his hair, ruffling the dark strands as he walks.

“Zack…?”

It’s a soft voice -- even quieter than usual, and muffled and croaky to boot -- but it’s a voice Zack will never, ever miss.

“What?” he asks as he peers towards the bed. Anyone else might have flinched by the nearly reproachful tone the man takes; Ray, however, knows better, and merely glances up at the man from where she laid.

“Are you okay?” she asks, completely sincere in her concern, and the man very nearly howls out in disbelief.

“‘Course I’m not okay! You’re sick, Ray!” he hisses back with venom in his voice, though his fiery anger isn’t directed at her specifically. No, he’s angry at whatever it was that caused this to happen - that caused Ray to get so ill and weak that she’s had no choice but to rest in bed for the past several hours. Germs? Some virus or bug? Whatever the accursed thing is, he’s come to a sore realization that he can’t simply drive it away with a good slash of his scythe - lest he slices into Ray and prematurely break their promise.

Everything seemed fine until that very morning when he for once had been the first to stir from his sleep. Nothing seemed too amiss, aside from Ray’s motionless form still tucked under the covers despite him being fully awake then. Usually she’d be the first to get up and much to his chagrin insist on his waking up too.. Because they have to run ‘errands’ or whatever.

When he rolled onto his side to pull her against his chest however, it was then he noted just how hot her skin felt - along with the heavy, laboured breaths that came from the blonde’s parted lips.

Everything from that point until now was nothing more than a frenzied blur to Zack - though he vaguely remembers his voice frantically calling out Ray’s name, the unfocused haziness in her normally attentive blue eyes finally opening up to his calls and his feet carrying him to do laps around their small apartment - supposedly to fulfill her request for a glass of water and a damp towel.

And here they were now - with Ray looking no better than she had been when she just woke up. Skin reddish and scalding to the touch, her hands clasping tightly onto the one pathetically thin blanket they had that failed to hide the violent shivers coming from beneath. And the worst part were her eyes - they showed far more concern for his panicked state than they did of her own condition.

“I’m sorry… for making you worry about me.” her soft murmured out words sends a javelin straight through his chest.

“Huh? Quit worryin’ about me’n’worry ‘bout yerself!” Accompanying that sense of utter uselessness — he’s not able to simply do away with her illness like he can everything else that’s come their way — is pure and utter exasperation that she would apologise for such a thing.

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you! I care about you!” He snaps, not really thinking the words through. Ray is in a critical condition right now — and he’s not exactly someone who carefully considers what he’s about to say normally...so this just makes it even worse.

Plus — he’s not a liar. And...it’s true.

He misses the way the girl’s pale cheeks redden slightly, or perhaps simply chalks it off to illness. She’s so sick she’s shaking on the damn bed — though the lack of warm blankets must not help much.

“You feel better?” Zack’s voice is a little softer now, quieter as, for once, he stands stock still.

“Um, could I have another glass of water...?”

“Oh, right,” the man mumbles, finally turning away to pad into their small kitchen. He retrieves a glass easily enough, thrusting it beneath the faucet to turn the tap on. Once a decent amount of water fills it, he flicks the faucet off and returns to the girl shivering in the bed, holding out the glass to her.  Small hands slowly begin to unfurl from the blanket’s material -- but they tremble so harshly that the man uses his free hand to press hers down, and instead helps her sit up as he presses the cup toward her lips.

Rachel’s pale and chapped lips close around the rim of the glass carefully, and the dark haired man tilts the cup to allow her to take sips of the water. Though his concern heightens as he watches how closely she’s drinking, Zack makes no mention of it.

“More?” he asks as the glass empties, and the blonde tilts her head back in order to breath out a soft sigh.

“No, I’m fine now.. Thank you, Zack.” she forces out a few words to express her gratitude before laying back down onto the absurdly warm mattress.

To Zack, the heat from Ray’s body getting trapped within the mattress must not make it a very pleasant surface to sleep on - and yet with how hard the girl was trembling, he could swear that she was laying upon a solid block of ice.

“Anything else?” he asks, managing to soften his voice a tad from his usual tone as he does so.

For a moment, Rachel kept silent from his question, merely darting her eyes to gaze at the morbid grey ceiling above her in deep thought while the man beside her awaited her answer. And while Zack may care deeply for her wellbeing and be willing to tend to her every need now, he was still impatient to a fault.. And the lack of a verbal answer from her prompts him to urge her, this time with a rougher tone in his voice.

“If ya need anythin’, just spit it out!”

Finally, her blue eyes focus back on him and she takes a few seconds more to remind herself that Zack hates liars in order to force out an honest answer despite her fear of troubling him.

“I’m… a little hungry.”

Oh. Of course she is. It’s a little past noon now, and she hasn’t had anything to eat since dinner the evening before. He can still remember the delicious stew she’d made for the both of them, and silently laments not having nearly the same amount of ability to cook as she does.

It’s no wonder then that Zack would look so puzzled and worried.

There was always the option of feeding her something that would take little to no preparation. Perhaps a few fruits they have left in the refrigerator, the half-eaten bag of chips that Ray has never taken a single bite out of before, or maybe the small container of leftover cookies Ray had baked in the past.

But memories of the steaming, home-cooked meals served to him diligently every single day made him feel guilty for even daring to consider cutting corners. He may be dumb, but even he knows that those cabinets of junk aren’t going to be very filling or healthy for her.

“That so,” he mutters, uncharacteristically thoughtful as he considers what exactly he ought to make for her. There’s...not really...anything he can make --

Oh.

How about he just ask her? She’s the smart one, she’s got to know what a sick person should eat. Or what she wants to eat, anyhow.

“What d’ya wanna eat?”

Her eyes close for only a moment as she begins to consider what she’s been asked, her mind pouring sluggishly through the possibilities of what he could possibly make for her -- that wouldn’t trouble him much.

A day or two ago, she had cut some salmon fillets for the both of them...but they hadn’t eaten everything, so there are still a couple pieces in the fridge. That shouldn’t be too difficult for him to prepare. And -- it’ll be warm. She’d really like something warm.

“How about…” It takes a moment for her eyes to open; they feel heavy for some reason. “How about some fish? Could you fry it for me?”

She can already tell by the way the man’s head tilts wordlessly -- considering her request -- that he isn’t exactly thrilled by her proposal. Slowly, despite her head spinning as she does so, Rachel begins to shake her head.

“It’s oka -- ”

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he interrupts, almost impatiently. “So all I gotta do is fry it, yeah?”

The girl blinks.

“...Yeah. You fry it on a pan...with some oil. It has to heat up on high...then you change the heat to medium after you put the fish on. You’ll know it’ll be ready when -- ”

“Stop, stop, stop, that’s way too much,” the man interrupts, shaking his head. “How the hell am I supposed t’ remember all that crap?!”

Right -- Zack isn’t the best at remembering things, much less remembering a whole laundry list of objectives. Not only that, she won’t be able to write this down; while his reading is getting better, Ray isn’t sure he’ll be able to concentrate hard enough on the words while he’s this agitated.

“Okay.” She takes a short breath. “Do you remember the fish we had a few days ago?” There’s a stiff nod in response. “Okay. Bring me the box with the fish in it. It’s in the fridge.”

Zack isn’t exactly enthused about having to leave her alone -- but nonetheless, he does as asked, entering the kitchen and opening the fridge door.

There’s a shit ton of stuff in here -- and it takes a bit of time pushing around containers and that jug of milk -- but finally he locates the box of orangish stuff and brings it back to the bedridden girl.

It takes a moment for the blonde to focus on the box he’s brought her, but within a few seconds, she knows that he has indeed retrieved the box of salmon for her.

“That’s right. Now you just need to grab one of the pans...and pour some oil on it. Heat it up on high until you see little bubbles start to form...and then lower the heat and put the fish on it.”

The man’s face seems to be permanently set into a frown, but he nods -- hesitantly, but attempting not to show it.

Grab a pan… pour some oil.. Heat it up to high and then lower the heat before putting the fish in. The man recites those phrases in his head again and again like a mantra. It should be simple enough. How hard can grabbing a pan, pouring some oil and then heating it up to cook the fish really be?

“I just gotta cook the fish, right?” Zack asks, and the girl’s head nods slowly.

“Yes, but make sure to lower the heat before putting the fish on the pan, or it’ll burn.”

Right. Lower the heat. Got it.

“Aight.” With a huff, the man finally turns to leave the bedroom and finally, the blonde is able to close her eyes in order to get some well needed rest.

It doesn’t spell good news when Zack drags himself into the kitchen and is immediately frozen where he stands. His mismatched eyes dart around the kitchen, from cabinet after cabinet, to the box of leftover salmon in his hands, and then to the now oddly intimidating looking stove. He’s immediately disoriented by the layout of the kitchen, and the task he’d tried to convince himself would be easy now feels far more daunting by the second.

“Get your shit together,” he hisses through gritted teeth and his grip on the box tightens.

Ray is depending on him to cook this fish. He can’t in his good conscious go back and tell her that he doesn’t want to, or worse, make her cook her own food when she can barely even stand without shaking like a leaf.

He’s reminded of the times Ray has gone the extra mile to take care of him - from cleaning up around the house, to cooking hot, delicious meals for him. He, by comparison, has never really done anything for her.

If he can’t even cook a single piece of fish for her when she’s sick, then he may as well be an absolute waste of a man.

Sucking in a deep breath, Zack finally forces himself forward to begin searching through the cabinet. It takes several tries, but he eventually does find the frying pan in the cabinet next to the stack of plates, which he takes along with the frying pan and sets them on the counter.

Now he has to find the oil, and then heat up the pan.

He grabs the oil from the left most cabinet, and uncaps the bottle of the yellow substance.

Just as he’s about to pour the oil into the pan, however, his hand freezes.

Just how much oil is he supposed to put exactly? Ray said ‘some’ oil, but there’s no way he can understand exactly how much is needed with a vague term like that. Is a drop enough? Does he have to cover the whole pan in it?

As reluctant as he is to return back to the bedroom, Zack does so with slumped shoulders and the bottle of oil in hand.

“Hey, Ray.”

Blue eyes open slowly at the call of her name, and he can swear her eyebrows are furrowing a little as she looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

“How much oil do I gotta add exactly?” With a light shake of the bottle of oil, the man asks and he notes the way Ray’s weakly shifts her gaze towards the bottle, as if focusing her eyes on something in itself was taking her a monumental amount of effort.

When she finally registers his question in her head, she looks back up at the dark haired man.

“Not too much.. Maybe just a quarter of the pan will do.”

A quarter of the pan. That’s a lot more specific than just ‘some oil’.

“Got it.” Zack is quick to stomp back out towards the kitchen, now unafraid to tip the bottle over and pour the oil out onto the pan. He’s careful to not pour more than what he thinks to be a quarter of the pan, caps the bottle and sets it to the side on the counter.

Placing the pan on the stove and turning the flames on is easy enough too, though waiting for the oil to begin bubbling has the man impatiently tapping his foot against the floorboards as he stares into the pan.

So...when’s it gonna start bubbling? Why’s it taking so long? Did he set the heat too low? But Ray had told him the H stood for hot, and -- he glances at the stove -- it’s certainly set to hot.

He’s getting more and more agitated the longer this takes, and he has to resist the urge to run back to the bedroom and ask Ray how he’s supposed to know when the oil starts bubbling.

But then -- suddenly, he sees small little pockets of air forming at the surface of the oil. Does -- does that mean it’s starting to bubble?

He waits a second more before picking up one of the fish fillets and laying it in the oil. Almost instantaneously, it begins to bubble and fizz, small flecks of hot liquid spurting in the air this way and that with a crackle.

“Shit!” Snarling, the man quickly cranks the heat down, grimacing as he steps away. It’s not that he’s unnerved or afraid --

But still, that had hurt. With a scowl and another flurry of swears under his breath, the man deposits the next piece of fish onto the pan, and stares fixedly as the pieces of meat sizzle quietly.

-- How long are they supposed to cook, anyway?

Lifting one hand, he scratches at the back of his head as if in an attempt to coax the answers from the depths of his empty brain. But nothing actually comes to mind, and with a sigh of defeat, he slinks back toward their bedroom.

“Ray…”

It takes a second for a response as the girl forces her eyes to flutter open.

“Yeah?”

“How long’s the fish supposed t’ cook for?”

“Um...until it gets pink...make sure to flip it.”

“How am I supposed t’ do that? I ain’t usin’ my hands.”

“...There...should be…” A cough that seems to shake her entire body interrupts her speech, and the man finds himself tensing in the silence broken only by her rasping. It seems to take way too long for her to be able to start talking again -- “Should be...a spatula in the drawer...near the stove.”

Zack’s silent for a moment, too -- though more out of a simmering anger at the state the girl is in than anything else.

“A spatula,” he finally mumbles. “‘Kay.” He thinks he’s seen her using one of those --

It’s that black flat thing, right? She uses it for pancakes.

“Ya…d’ya need anythin’?” he asks anxiously as he leans to begin making his way out of the room. The girl shakes her head in response, and he waits for just a second more before returning to the stove.

He can already smell cooking fish -- and it makes him a little hungry, too.

But this stuff is for Ray, so -- he shouldn’t really think about eating.

She doesn’t usually eat too much, but when she’s sick, she should probably eat more, so she can get strong and better and stuff.

Zack pulls open one of the drawers to find the black spatula on top of everything else, as if it had just been recently put away. Perhaps Ray had dried it the day before when she’d been frying French toast --

He places the spatula on the stove near the pan for easy reach, and stares blankly into the cooking pan. The fish are steadily frying away…

And they don’t look pink yet, so he guesses they aren’t done yet.

But maybe he should flip them over…?

How’s he supposed to know when he’s supposed to do that? Ray didn’t tell him anything…

He considers going back and asking again, but remembering how she’d struggled to answer him and coughed her damn lungs out gives him pause. Is he really so pathetic that he can’t cook a stupid piece of fish for the girl that he loves?

Eyebrows furrowing in exasperation, he lifts the spatula and slides it beneath one of the fish. Then he flips it over -- clumsily. Oil spatters across the stove, the fish nearly breaks into two, but somehow he manages it regardless. The other side definitely looks lighter in comparison to the other one, the one he hasn’t flipped yet…

Is this pink, then?

The man scratches at his scarred cheek, mismatched eyes flicking wildly between one piece of salmon and the next.

Should...should he ask…?

And if he does...is he supposed to bring the whole pan with him?

Zack very nearly does return to the bedroom to ask her - but the sheer imagination of the shame he’d feel should he have to disrupt her rest for a third time has the man rooted to the ground and his limbs tensing.

He stubbornly watches the pan like a hawk, the sizzling noise grating in his ears, and the scent of cooked fish causing his stomach to unhelpfully rumble.

He regrets not having paid more attention to the colour of the fish when Ray had been cooking them before - or the way she so swiftly darted around the kitchen without so much as a pause in her movement. She’s always been so diligent and skillful in anything she does, but it’s caused Zack as much self-doubt as it has admiration for the girl he’s come to live out his everyday with.

While she’s smart, talented, and practically everything he isn’t, he’s struggling with even cooking simple fillets of fish for her, while she’s suffering in bed.

But he’s always been far too stubborn for a man, and he made a promise.

They’d be together until the day he decides to kill her, whenever that may be in the future. Until the day arrives, he’d protect her and care for her.. So she won’t die before their oath can be fulfilled.

He can’t be serving her raw fish if he wants her to stay alive.

It’s another minute or so before he decides to flip the second fillet over, more carefully this time so as to not cause the hot oil to spill across the stove again. The surface has turned a rather dark orange colour, leading down to a pale pink center. Much to his displeasure, the edges appear slightly charred, but he decides that it’s better than the fish not being cooked enough.

He uses the spatula to take a look at the other fish’s underside -- it seems...about ready? Maybe? Blinking, he picks it out of the oil and places it on the plate, where he then stares at it for a few moments longer -- perplexed.

How can he figure out if it’s really cooked…? Will it bleed if he cuts it?

He pulls out a fork and cuts it in half -- there’s no blood, so he has to assume that it’s probably cooked.

So maybe the second one is cooked, too --

Blinking, he fetches the second one off the pan too, and settles it onto the plate, then repeats what he’d done with the first fillet. It looks just as well-done as the first one, so he must assume it’s cooked as well.

So he turns off the heat and pushes the pan off the hot plate.

But the moment he picks up the plate to take it to Ray --

He can’t get over how utterly pathetic it looks. Two pieces of fish, both of them practically falling apart, one blackened a bit -- it’s an utter mess. It looks nothing like anything Ray’s ever cooked for him...and it certainly doesn’t remind him of the fish fillets she’s made him before. There’s no way he can give this to her with anything resembling pride.

She doesn’t deserve anything like this. He should give her better.

-- Sometimes she, like, puts stuff on the food, to make it “fancier” or some shit -- right? Or to make it taste better…

But he doesn’t really know what he could put on fish.

And he’s gonna put something -- ‘cause he’s not going to give her this sorry looking piece of crap. Plus, more food is gonna make her get healthier faster, right?

Zack gives a glance around the kitchen, his mismatched gaze landing upon the small basket of fruits they keep near the cabinets. Blinking, he takes a stride toward it and pulls a banana off from a bunch of two others. Then, he returns to the still-hot fish on the counter.

Peeling the skin back, he cuts the banana into smaller pieces with the fork and proceeds to layer the a pile of crudely cut banana slices on top of the fish fillets.

-- Well, it...looks a lot better. It’s not quite what he remembers to be the same as the spoonfuls of sauce the girl would serve on top of the fish, but the round banana slices manage to hide the uglier spots of his fillets, while also making the dish look… unique?

Not appetizing by any means, but unique.

Zack feels tempted to try tasting the banana and salmon combination he’s come up with on the plate, but withholds himself from doing so. The food is for Ray, and though she normally doesn’t tend to eat much, he can’t be sure that she wouldn’t feel considerably more hungry now that she was sick.

He isn’t sure what they’d taste like together.. But if they’re delicious on their own, surely they must taste good together too.

And so with a sharp intake of air through his nostrils, he finally manages to sum up the courage to hesitantly march himself to the bedroom after grabbing a fork from the third drawer he opens, where the very first person he has ever cooked for lay in wait for her meal.

Ray appears to be sleeping soundly on the bed, curled beneath the thin material of the blanket as she breathes through slightly parted lips.

If possible, he’d like to be able to not have to disturb her rest again, but she can’t exactly eat while laying down and asleep like this.

“Hey, Ray.” Zack sits himself down on the edge of the mattress where it begins to sink slightly under his weight and reaches a hand out to gently grasp the blonde girl by the shoulder. She still feels hot to the touch, but bubbling thoughts of anger and guilt are swiftly pushed down when he sees the first hints of her deep blue eyes peeking from under heavy eyelids.

“Yeah?” her voice strains to speak, and somehow Zack manages out a small smile as he lifts the plate of cooked fish up.

“Food’s done.”

The girl’s eyes widen and she immediately attempts to sit up, though she evidently struggles to prop herself up onto her shaking, thin forearms until with a sigh, Zack helps her sit up against the headboard with a pillow tucked under her back.

With tired unfocused eyes, Ray glances down at the plate the man is holding and her expression twists into one of confusion.

There’s definitely… something resembling fillets of fish on the plate...

At first glance however, the top of the fillets look odd. It takes a moment for her vision to focus properly enough to see that there were toppings on top of the fish, and a few extra long seconds to process just what was on top of the salmon.

“Um..” the blonde’s eyes shift up to glance at Zack, whose jaw was tensing, before they drift back down onto the curious plate of fish and banana rounds that had been served to her. “Did you put bananas on the fish, Zack?”

The answer should be obvious, and her questioning it only causes the man’s heart rate to spike up.

“Yeah. Thought it’d be nice.”

There’s no response -- for what seems like a far too long time, and it grinds at the man’s already frazzled nerves.

“What?” he snaps, more force behind the words than he really intends. “Somethin’ wrong with ‘em or somethin’?! -- ‘S it gonna taste bad?”

Instead of growing concerned or perhaps upset by the man’s slight outburst, the girl gives a slow shake of her head.

“I don’t know, Zack. I’ve never tried this before.”

The man’s jaw slowly slackens, the rest of his muscles relaxing as whatever perceived attack he’d felt fades away.

“Yeah, I dunno, I didn’t like how it looked all plain’n’stuff so I put ‘em on it...I thought it looked nicer…” The words fade off as he turns his gaze away, almost as if embarrassed to look at her or the plate.

She’s silent again as if deep in thought or hesitation, and with each second that passes with her keeping a response from him, the more agitated he grows.

Ah shit...It was a mistake to have added the damn bananas.

“If ya ain’t gonna eat it then I’ll just chuck it in th’ trash!” He’s about to rise from the bed when Rachel grabs his wrist with a quick shake of her head. There’s a strange look in her eye - as if pleading for some reason.

“No. I’ll eat it, Zack. Because you put so much effort into making it for me,” she responds, voice far more softened than before. And before the man could let out another word of protest, she’s grabbed the fork from his hand.

Hearing the man’s consideration for the presentation of his dish, something she never thought he’d particularly care about, made her realize just how much thought and effort Zack must have put into cooking for her.

It’s hardly gourmet, and to say that she wasn’t at least slightly taken aback by the strange choice of topping would be a lie - but not eating the food that Zack had worked so hard to make would be far too cruel on him.

With an almost expectant stare from the man, the girl moves her fork to cut a piece of the salmon from the plate he held.. And though wary, made sure to get a slice of banana as well. The morsel of food is lifted to her mouth past pale lips that close around the fork before pulling the then empty cutlery out.

Rachel takes several seconds to slowly chew at her food - savoring every revelation of flavour and texture that slowly blends together into a somewhat odd experience. From the flaky, tender meat of the fish to the mushy texture of banana, she’s far too eager to swallow the mixture quickly.

The silence that follows after her first bite has the man shifting slightly on the bed in something vaguely resembling anxiety. She’s not saying anything about the food --

“Well?” he demands uneasily. “How is it?”

The girl looks at him with deep blue eyes -- clearer than earlier, thankfully -- and takes another moment to respond.

“It’s strange,” she admits slowly, carefully. Zack hates liars, after all -- and she can’t exactly say she’s ever tasted something like this before. “But...it’s not bad.” That’s true, too -- while the flavours aren’t anything she’d ever say would go together, normally...it’s nothing she can’t eat.

And knowing Zack had tried so hard to cook this for her just makes her more motivated to eat it. This is the first proper meal he’s ever made...and he made it for her. No one else.

Zack is silent for a moment as he ponders over her answer.

‘Strange, but not bad’.

He’d hoped that the food he made for her wouldn’t be strange entirely at all. After all, there is nothing Ray has ever made for him that he would consider to be strange, besides the few salads that she insists some people do enjoy eating.

However, if she says that it isn’t bad, and he knows the girl would not lie to him in a situation like this, then it must be true.. If it isn’t bad, then it can be good.

“T-that so.” His stutter betrays his attempt to appear composed, and while the man is quick to turn his head away from her gaze sheepishly, Ray knows better than to assume that this was a reaction out of anger or annoyance.

She lifts her fork once more to stab into the food and brings it up to her lips. With each bite of the fish and bananas, the more the strangeness of the combination of flavour and texture fades, and she’s left feeling oddly full in her chest.

Odd choice of topping aside, this was easily the tastiest thing Ray has eaten for a long while - and it’s all thanks to the love Zack put into it.

It takes her a little longer than usual to finish her meal, on account of being ill, but she finishes every last bit -- even the two fillets of fish. Perhaps she was more hungry than she’d thought. The man seems utterly pleased as he takes the plate from her, an enormous smile nearly splitting his scarred face in half. The blonde girl can’t help but give a tiny, weak smile back as she leans back against her pillow.

“Thank you, Zack. I’m full now.”

In more ways than one. In addition to the warm, full sensation her belly has -- her chest feels full in a way only Zack can accomplish.

“‘S’good,” the man mutters, giving her one last glance before he gets off the bed to return the plate to the kitchen. When he comes back, he’s holding a small bit of torn tissue in his hand; he reaches his arm out to the girl and lightly brushes it against the corner of her mouth.

“Ya got crumbs’n’stuff on yer face…”

As if cooking a meal for her hadn’t been enough, the man was thoughtful enough to return with a tissue to clean the stray crumbs littering the side of her lips. The blonde hums as Zack gives a few final dabs of the tissue, before leaning back to gaze back at the girl.

She looks so utterly satisfied and content... Red in the face and dazed from her still burning hot fever, but content nonetheless.. And dare he say… Happy.

“I’m tired, Zack.” she groans out, and makes an attempt to lay back down before clutching the pathetically thin blanket closer to herself. “But I still feel too cold.”

“SHIT! The blankets... I forgot!”

Zack shoots up onto his feet from the bed with a loud swear, his calm expression twisted now into a scowl that Ray recognizes from earlier before.

He looks about to begin pacing around the room again, already muttering something about going out of the apartment to find spare blankets, when Ray quickly reaches a hand up to grab his.

“Zack...stay with me...”

“Huh…?” To say he’d expected her to say something like that would be a lie. After all...she’ll still be cold if he stays, right? So what the hell’s that good for?

“You’re warm…” Sensing the man’s befuddlement from the confused expression he gives her, the girl coaxes him with a couple earnest -- and honest -- words.

Zack is warm. And she’s certain she’ll be nice and cozy next to him -- as long as he holds her in his arms.

With a loud, disgruntled sound, the man relents, shuffling around the bed -- without letting go of her hand -- to lay down on her other side.

“Like that?”

“Yeah.”

Exhaling softly, Zack slides himself a little closer to her, until their bodies touch through the blanket; then he wraps his arms about her as he nuzzles his head next to hers.

“Ya gettin’ warm?”

“...Yeah.”

She feels so utterly content next to him, so full and warm, that she might as well fall asleep again right then and there.

“Zack...?” the girl whispers out his name after what felt to be several long minutes.

Her voice catches the man off guard. After all, he’d expected her to fall right asleep, and was even on the verge of slipping into the realm of sleep himself. He hadn’t expected her to still be awake, let alone want to talk.

“Yeah?” his voice is gentle as he murmurs back into her ear, and she finds herself melting against him even more.

“Thank you.. For working so hard to take care of me..”

Zack is silent for a moment as he stares at the girl through widened, stunned eyes, before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Nothin’ to thank me for. T’s the least I can do.”

She feels his arms wrap around her form a little tighter, pulling her against his chest so close that she can feel the steady rising and falling of his chest as he breaths.

With a hum, the girl finally closes her eyes and finds herself giving into the warmth, and the very last thing she hears before she dozes off is the beating of their hearts in tandem.

[lbat1901]

Eddsworld: UTFTF Chapter 15

Battle Against Odds - (Chapter 15) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As soon as both defense shields were down, the future counterparts made into the castle while Zhong Wei and Future Hellucard were defending the outside perimeter with the aid of Future Tony and his dragons. "God, there's too many of them!" said Zhong Wei. "I know! This was bad idea to get off of Draco and Thoraz's backs. We're so dead" said Future Hellucard. "Who says that you're dead when you have someone to assist you?" asked Killmonger. "Killmonger? What are you doing here?" asked Zhong Wei. "I didn't want miss the big battle so I came as fast I can just so I can do this" said Killmonger. Killmonger takes out a singal flare before igniting it which got the attention of Anglia who let out an ear screeching roar followed by Zolorth who've suddenly appeared a few seconds later. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!? You're attracting them! Stop it!" yelled Future Hellucard. "Duck" said Killmonger. "Duck? Why?" asked Zhong Wei. "Don't ask me questions! Just do it" said Killmonger. Both Future Hellucard and Zhong Wei ducked as Zolorth and Anglia rushed forward at a certain spot till Killmonger ducked in time for the two undead creatures rammed into each other. Anglia trapped Zolorth's head in a tight bite which made Zolorth whimper and whine in panic as he tried to break free. Unfortunately for Zolorth, his head gets bitten off by Anglia leaving behind his body along with the open bleeding spot on where his head was at before collapsing. "That was extreme, but cool at the same time" said Zhong Wei. "Don't say anything just yet, Anglia's still here" said Future Hellucard. "Say no more" said Killmonger. In a swift motion, Killmonger takes out a small javelin and throws it right in one of Anglia's eye sockets before going over and shoves it deeper which kills the undead dragon. "You're twisted, you know that right?" asked Future Hellucard. "I know, now we wait for the Black Leader to come or.....we can watch him burn down the castle" said Killmonger. "What?" asked Zhong Wei. Future Hellucard and Zhong Wei watched Future Tony commanding his dragons to burn the lower part of the fortress first before climbing up it slowly. "I thought that there was an agreement where Tord and him wouldn't attack the castle directly. Why is he burning it down? Does he realize that the others are in there?" asked Zhong Wei. "I think he does, but he wanted to do his own thing. Come on, we need to get them out of there" said Future Hellucard. [With Edd and Eduardo] "Why would younattempt to go for the blast? You've almost hit me, Pepper" said a general. "Well I didn't know that he was going to get out of your grip, Salt" said the one called Pepper. "Both of you SHUT UP!!!" yelled their leader. "Sorry Salza" said Pepper. "I don't care if you're sorry or not, we're should be killing of these two intruders" said Salza. "Right. I'll finish of my battle with you" said Salt. "Oh no, you don't" said Eduardo. Salt takes charge at Eduardo with his weapon drawn as Eduardo did the same thing, but with his own fist. There was a draw as Salt believed that he actually harmed Eduardo, but realizes a few seconds later that Eduardo punched him right through his body armor that was covering his stomach. "You had all the time in the world to realize that you had a hole in your stomach" said Eduardo. Salt didn't say anything as he slowly fell to the ground. Meanwhile in the air, Pepper was trying to hit Edd with his electric powers. He managed to trap Edd in a tight spot before going in for the kill; however, it turns out that Edd was countering against Salt's electricity shortly before appearing right in front of him. Pepper let's out a surprised gasp before Edd holds onto his head before electrocuting Pepper. Edd then lands onto the ground as he lets go of Pepper who was trying to move but was too paralyzed to do anything. Like Salt, Pepper also collapses to the ground. "Ah....how unfortunate. Guess I'll take you on by myself. Prepare to die!" said Salza. As Salza was preparing an attack, he received a small beam of the shoulder which made him slowly fall to the ground with a look of shock on his face. "That should do it with taking out the trash" said Eduardo. "We did it! We've beaten Lord Death's top generals. Now we can get out of here" said Edd. "Yeah we- hold on a minute, we got something" said Eduardo. Edd looks where Eduardo is pointing at as he saw a tall man made entirely in metal. "Was that man a normal human being that got turned into a robot or was freshly built from the factory line?" asked Edd. "I don't know and I don't care, he's going down" said Eduardo. The man chuckles deeply before speaking with a metallic voice. "Oh you'd be correct that I was originally human and they call me the Bringer of Winter for nothing. To keep this conversation from getting any longer, call me V'yuga and I'm here to kill anyone who stands between me and Lord Death's plan" said V'yuga. "Not unless I have anything to say about that" said Edd. Edd rushes forward to V'yuga as he punch him in the face; however, this didn't do anything to faze him. V'yuga lifts up a hand and flicks Edd away before getting up in front of him to punch him right in the stomach. The impact of V'yuga's metal fist was enough to severally harm Edd before V'yuga kicked him by the side. Edd catches himself before blasting a green energy wave at V'yuga which didn't do anything. By using the same hand, V'yuga points his index finger at Edd and fires light blue energy bullets that shattered all over the place as Edd dodged them as he neared V'yuga. Unexpectedly, V'yuga somehow reads this and grabs Edd by the neck as he lifts him up. Edd tries to fight it, but his efforts were stopped once V'yuga tightens his grip on his neck. "Is that the best you can do? How pathetic" said V'yuga. As V'yuga grip got tighter and tighter by each passing second, Edd was loosing air and before he could close his eyes, a ball of dark green energy came flying by as it sliced off V'yuga's arm, freeing Edd. Once Edd could breathe again he looks up to see Eduardo staring down at him. "Eduardo...?" asked Edd. "What did I say about you getting harmed? Looks like that I'll have to step in to cover you. Listen up you metallic force of nature, nobody hits and threatens to kill my neighbor expect for me, so don't you forget that once I'm through with you" said Eduardo. Suddenly, wires came out of V'yuga's missing arm as they repaired what was gone thus giving him a new arm. Afterwards, V'yuga turns to face Eduardo as he flexed his newly repaired arm. "If that's the case, please be my guest then" said V'yuga. "I'LL SEND YOU TO THE SCRAP YARD!!!!" yelled Eduardo before taking charge. Unfortunately, Eduardo's confidence and sincerity were no match for V'yuga who've grabbed Eduardo by his cape and ended up slamming him to ground several times making him scream in pain as blood came out of his mouth. Edd just stood watching the whole scene unfold before V'yuga throws a blood covered Eduardo away before catching him. "That was entertaining" said V'yuga. "Eduardo, speak to me please. Please tell me that you're okay" said Edd. ".......That loser of a brute needs to be stopped...." said Eduardo in a weaken tone. "No Eduardo, we can't" said Edd. ".....W...What do you mean we can't?" asked Eduardo. "It's because we're being overpowered. Our powers don't even lay a single scratch on him" said Edd. "So...what do you want us to do then?" asked Eduardo. "We need to get away. I know that it's not apart of the plan, but what choice do we have? We get away or we stay just so we can get killed" said Edd. "Alright fine, let's get out of here" said Eduardo. [With Past Tony and Future Yamiyo] In a different part of the castle, both past Tony and Future Yamiyo were seen in room in which appeared to be a office with a bunch of filing cabinets. "What's taking you long? It shouldn't be that hard to find documents on a person" said Future Yamiyo. "I'm hurrying up as fast as I can. These people don't organize anything, it's ridiculous" said Tony. "Well don't stop and talk to me, hurry it up. I can't guard this door forever" said Future Yamiyo. "Yeah, yeah, I- hold up, I've found it" said Tony as he found the document. "It's about time. Now let's get out of here before we get caught" said Future Yamiyo. Once leaving the room, Future Yamiyo kept guard as Tony followed behind her just before a person came out of nowhere and held a gun right at Tony's head which alarmed Future Yamiyo. "I wouldn't pull that trigger if I were you, buddy" said Future Yamiyo. "Oh my! Is that really how you talk to your brother, Yamiyo?" asked the person. "No it can't be. Kage? I thought that our father sent you to a boarding school in Korea" said Yamiyo. "He did, but I broke out with a group of students. I wasn't going to let that old man boss me around like some animal" said Kage. "Wait....are you two...siblings?" asked Tony. "What are you? The captain of the obvious club or something? Yamiyo and I are twins who were born to a wealthy military family, isn't that right sister?" asked Kage. "Yes it's true. I am the oldest, but that wasn't till people amuse that we were one and in the same. Our parents had to separate us and I became the only child. The only time where I would see Kage was when we had secret meet ups with the help of our grandparents" said Yamiyo. "Yes and yes. Even though we were kept in a distance from each other, we seem to have the same agenda with army stuff" said Kage. "Yeah we sure do. What are you doing in Lord Death's army?" asked Yamiyo. "And what are doing in the Black Army? You do know that nutjob of a leader rules almost half of the galaxy and pretty much destroyed planets in order to use what's left of it for his own power fuel? I even heard that both of our leaders are somehow....connected to one another" said Kage. Tony had a look of concern on his face wondering what Kage meant by "connected" so out of curiosity, he looked into the document before giving off a look of shock once looking at it. Tony notices that both Kage and Future Yamiyo were about ready to duke it out and takes it as an advantage to get out of the room. [Meanwhile] Far into an open valley that was deep into the castle, the future gang was searching for Lord Death. "There's no sign of him anywhere" said Future Tom. "It's probably because you're using the wrong scanner" said Future Tord. "No, I'm using the right one and the one that's basically tracks heat" said Future Tom. "Oh, well he fell from a dragon meaning that he could be anywhere" said Future Tord. "Hey look, I've found him. He's right there standing on top of a boulder" said Future Matt. The gang turns there to attention to see Lord Death standing on a large boulder. It almost seems like he was waiting for them to come. "He's so dead" said Future Edd. "Edd, wait!" said Future Tord. "What?" asked Future Edd. "I wouldn't even dare on charging at him just yet. He could be planning something" said Future Tord. "Like what?" asked Future Edd. "Probably on the many ways on how to kill us" said Future Tom. "Pfft....yeah right" said Future Edd with a small laugh. As they continued to argue back and forth on the topic, Lord Death was starting to get annoyed on what's happening before deciding to say something. "ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!!! Just hearing you babble about nothing was starting get on my nerves. Basically everything that you're doing is really irritating me. If you really want to fight me then I'll be happy to kill you without any hesitation. Before I do so, I guess showing you what's behind the mask will make your day before your unfortunate demise" said Lord Death. In slow motion, Lord Death takes off his helmet revealing his true identity and it was almost like looking into a mirror. Lord Death looked exactly like Future Tony, but with somewhat longer hair and dark markings underneath his eyes. "It would seem that my looks made you all speechless which is good. I am, without a doubt, Tony's younger brother, but please do call me Cedric and I'll be the last face that you'll ever see" said Cedric. "What makes you think that we'll believe in that?" asked Future Matt. "Watch and observe" said Cedric. Cedric puts his arm right in front of the future gang as he made a slashing motion with it. Once doing this, a thick dark blue energy wave quickly comes out of nowhere, completely cutting the spot on where Future Edd was in half which ruined his cloths only leaving his shirt intact. "That's not really what I had in mind though" said Future Matt. "Oh I was just testing your reflexes, my bad. Anyway, Tony and I don't have much of a good relationship especially when he gets more awards than me. When I discovered that he was using our father's money to build his army, I was so angry that I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. For years, I have hired a team of scientists to create something new and unique and what I got was being able to bring back the dead which was alarming at the time, but I loved it. I even had the scientists create Bio Warriors by using my top generals. With them I became unstoppable" said Cedric. "You monster! You do realize that you've killed millions of innocent lives right? You even killed my hellhound and I won't give you any mercy" said Future Tord. "Mercy? Ha! Oh the emotions of a human being. They are quite boring honestly. Besides your hellhound and my brother's dragon were worthless when I first revived them" said Cedric. "Zolorth isn't worthless!" yelled Future Tord. "I'm getting tired of listening to you and protests. I think it's time for me to annihilate you all, starting with you Red Leader" said Cedric. Cedric uses the same hand as before but this time he pointed his index finger at Future Red as he shot out a dark pink beam of energy; however, Future Tom runs over to Future Red and ended up taking the hit. "Tom! No!" yelled Future Edd. "I am so sorry....Tord.....but I had to...." said Future Tom before collapsing into the ground. "Tom, get up. Please don't leave us" begged Future Matt as he was trying to wake up Future Tom. "Ah don't worry, you'll be joining him as well" said Cedric. Suddenly Cedric charges at Future Matt as the two went up into the air. "Cedric! Don't do it! I said don't do it!" yelled Future Edd. Cedric gives off an evil smirk as he lets go of Future Matt before blasting another energy beam at him as Future Matt fell down to the ground. "NOOOOOOOOO!!!" screamed Future Edd. "What have you done!?" asked Future Tord. "What does it look like? I'm getting rid of you" said Cedric. "You know what? You have every reason to hate your own brother, but at least your brother doesn't torture people like this. This has to be the most disgusting thing that I've ever seen! You should be ashamed of yourself" said Future Edd. "How dare you insult me like that! That's it, you're so dead now" said Cedric. Cedric fires another energy beam at Future Edd hoping that it will kill him. As Future Edd prepared to face his death, Future Tord tackled Future Edd down as his back gets hit by the beam before making a hard impact on the ground. "....Edd.....go get him. Make sure to make him pay for his sins. I...I believe in you..." said Future Tord as he lost consciousness. "Why Tord? Why would you risk your life to save me?" asked Future Edd. "The Red Leader has been defeated! Now nothing can stop me" said Cedric as he let out an evil laugh. Future Edd opened his eyes as he gritted his teeth in anger as he heard Cedric laughing. "Tom, Matt, Tord.........my friends. This was a bad idea going in after Cedric and now, we're just laying here on the ground just barely hanging on..." said Future Edd. Suddenly Future Edd's attention turned to a bird that on the ground, twitching a bit as it died. Future Edd slowly gets up as he takes off his shirt and uses it to picks up bird and carefully wrapped it. "It's not fair! It's not fair to see you get affected like this bird. You deserve to live" said Future Edd as tears filled his eyes. Future Edd unwraps the bird as he takes a closer look at the bird in his hands. "I....won't allow another life be taken away...." said Future Edd as he looks back at Future Matt, Tom, and Tord getting harmed by Cedric. "I.....WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN!!!!" yelled Future Edd. And just like that, Future Edd let's out a cry of anger as large green light surrounds him. "This should to prove to you fools not to get in people's business and thrawt their plans" said Cedric. Before Cerdic could laugh again, he gets interrupted by the sounds of angry yelling. "What the!?" asked Cedric. Cedric finds the source coming from Future Edd as he uncovers his hands revealing that bird came back to life before flying away. "Woah...this energy is incredible! What's going on?" asked Cerdic. Cedric watches as Future Edd getting back on his feet as he saw a gleam of pure hatred in eyes while seeing green energy surrounding him. "You think you're so special? Well you're not!" said Cedric. Cedric was about to blast his opponent away but his arm gets grabbed by Future Edd who've appeared right behind him. "What!?" asked Cedric as he was trying to break free but Future Edd tightens his grip. "I can't stand to see a heartless monster like you harming anyone especially when it's my own friends" said Future Edd. Cedric manages to break free as he slowly backed away. "What are talking about? I do what I want. The weak dies and the strong survives! The same goes for evil" said Cedric. "Okay, let's play it by your own rules then Cedric" said Future Edd. In blinding speed, Future Edd gives Cedric a beat down as Cedric himself couldn't react in time before getting punched very hard in his stomach. ".....Hehehe.....ehehe.....oh, I can see why my brother didn't take over London when he had the chance. I like it, I like it very much. You're too much!" said Cedric as he blasted an energy wave at Future Edd. Future Edd just takes in without even dodging it. When the dust disappeared, Future Edd didn't have a single scratch on him; however, this was a decoy for Cedric to create a huge golden orb of energy. "....What the...?" asked Future Edd seemly shocked. "I can't believe you've fell for that. It's time for you to die along with everything that you love!!!" yelled Cedric. Cedric then throws the orb at Future Edd who tried to hold it back with his own two hands, but it was too much for him to handle. "Cedric! You're out of control! You can't kill everyone on this planet!" said Future Edd. "Ahaha! This is what you get for trying to stop me. I'm the superior one!" said Cedric. "How can you be the superior one when all you do is kill men, women, and children for doing nothing wrong!?" yelled Future Edd. "Yes! Yes! Oh yeah! It feels good to be a villain" said Cedric. Suddenly Future Edd let's out another angry yell which got Cedric's attention. "Not again! I had enough of you. This better be good" said Cedric. What Cedric was expecting to see was that Future Edd gather up all of his energy in one single large beam which somehow pushed back the orb without any trouble. "Impossible! This is impossible! Where is he getting all of this energy?" asked Cedric. That's when Cedric looks down to see Future Tord, Matt, and Tom all banding together to give Future Edd the support he needs. "Oh....I hate you all" said Cedric. The gang pushed the orb right in the direction of Cedric as he braced himself. "Why you little- AAH!!" yelled Cedric as he used his hands to slow his own orb down. Despite doing this, Cedric ended up getting taken to outer space with the orb. "Gah! You haven't won yet! Once I got of this, I swear, I'll make sure to blast you to- huh? Far from the planet Earth lays a star so old and so hot that it is known to be a life source. It is mostly known as the sun. Maybe if I were to take it out, everything and everyone on the planet will freeze to death. Oh yes!......Wait a sec.....I'm heading straight towards it!" said Cedric. What Cedric said was actually very and yet sadly true. The orb ended up traveling to the sun as Cedric was seen still holding onto it as he suddenly felt the rushing pain of his body burning up. "Aaah! Curse that idiotic buffoon! Why haven't you've been killed? Wait.....I remember. I remember! I was the one who've left that chip so that the Red Army can find it. It was the same chip that he stole just so he can travel back in time and he still has it! It's been converted into a wristwatch. I remember it all perfectly. It's my fault. If I haven't left that chip behind then I would've rule the world with an iron fist a longtime ago. NOOOOOOOO!!!!" screamed Cedric. The orb soon collapses into the sun as Cedric ended up getting completely obliterated. Back on earth, Future Edd sat down as he was catching his breath till Future Tord, Tom, and Matt came over to him. "You did it Edd!" said Future Matt. "Yeah, that was pretty incredible on how you ended Cedric" said Future Tom. "You guys are okay? I thought you were killed" said Future Edd. "Not really. He had a very lousy aim in all of his attacks" said Future Tord. "Oh, well at least he's dead so he won't harm anyone else" said Future Edd.

[expressandadmirable]

In The Grass (Grummer)

I.

With a rush of magical energy and a change in air pressure that always made Aviva’s ears pop, the environment around them changed. The back garden of the manor in Aelfheim became a golden blur, replaced in an instant by the warm orange glow of Scanderimus. She felt Halei lean against her as the Drow shook off the momentary disorientation. “That never gets easier.”

“Better than sailing, at least,” Aviva offered. Halei grunted a begrudging agreement.

“There are my misfit daughters,” came a familiar rumble.

Aviva grinned as the old Orc slouched into view at the edge of the portal, smirking around his tusks. “Good to see you too, pep pep.” She stepped forward, arms wide, and Grummer swept her into a crushing hug. “Still alive?”

“I should hope so,” Halei remarked from behind them. “You still owe me a rematch, old man.”

Grummer snorted a laugh as he released the Tiefling and spread his arms toward the Drow. “Big words from someone who’s still short,” he retorted, giving her a squeeze. “As I recall, your wife and I put you to the ground more than once.”

Aviva held up both hands. “Whoa, hey. Don’t look at me, I only get involved to exorcise possessing spirits. Besides, children, we’re here for a party, not a brawl.”

Both Grummer and Halei waved off her admonishment with a good-natured grumble. “It’s the Council’s party, not mine,” the Orc continued. “They wanted to commemorate the ten-year anniversary of Gurgu’s return, so Xylia asked if I could call in any famous friends.”

“Ahh, the celebrity life.” Aviva sighed dramatically.

“And how is good Master Undaunt?” Halei asked, pale eyebrow raised. “You two lovebirds still doing well?”

Grummer shrugged, but a smile played at the corners of his lips. “She makes an old man happy.” Before the two women could pounce on his Gnomish romance, Grummer shooed them from the portal in the direction of the city centre. “Come on, come on. Go put on your party clothes, the party starts in a few hours. Don’t keep Gurgu waiting.”

II.

“...Are you sure?”

“I’m old, Aviva.” Grummer shrugged, his shoulders lowering like a glacier. He turned his gaze to the revelry happening below their balcony, watching the Gnomes quietly for a moment. “I’ve been away from the desert for too long. It’s time.”

Aviva nodded. “Then, to the desert we go. How do you want to travel? We can go the long way, we can take the portal… Or we could call Morgan and take you on one more trip on the Highwind.”

After a moment of thought, Grummer smiled. “I think I could go for one last flight.”

III.

“Aviva?”

The Tiefling was sitting bolt upright in bed, frozen in the darkness. A beat later, she spoke into the empty air: “Thank you. We’ll be there.”

“We’ll be where?” Halei asked, pushing herself upright in turn.

“Sending from Xylia, via one of the Ghost Beetle casters.” Aviva paused. “It’s Grummer. She thinks this is it.”

Halei nodded, already rising from the bed and reaching for her trousers. “We’ll be there.”

IV.

The inside of the tent was cool, the heavy fabric shutting out the harsh rays of the desert sun, and it took Aviva’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light. Rising from a rough-hewn wooden chair set to one side of the tent flap, Morgan nodded in greeting, her hands fidgeting anxiously at her sides. Deep, even breaths floated from a large bed laden with furs and blankets, and as Aviva, Halei and Morgan approached, Grummer opened his eyes and gave them a weak smile. “Hello, strange daughters.”

“Hello, old man,” Halei murmured. “Ready for that rematch?”

Grummer huffed a laugh that quickly turned into a breathless cough. “Of course. If they’d let me out of this bed, I’d have you on the ground in no time.”

Aviva sat on the edge of the bed, taking Grummer’s large, calloused hand in hers. “Good thing they won’t let you out, then. Can’t have you making a mess of her, she’s a mother now.”

“No excuse,” Grummer wheezed. “How old is she now, five? She should know how to use a sword, a spear and a javelin, at least. Raise her like a proper Orc.” As Morgan settled on the bed to his other side, he gave her an exaggerated wink -- which, given that he had never had his lost eye replaced, looked decidedly more like an awkward blink. Morgan giggled despite herself.

“I’ll get right on that,” Halei smirked, stepping in to stand at Aviva’s side.

“Hey,” Aviva protested. “You’re the ancestor of every Orc tribe in the desert. I think one grandchild can stay a Tiefling-Elf."

Grummer waved his free hand dismissively, letting it rest on Morgan’s knee as he closed his eyes. “Every Orc in the desert,” he repeated softly. “Who knew an old killer like me would ever see peace?”

Aviva glanced up at Halei, who put a hand on the Tiefling’s shoulder. Morgan’s posture tightened. None of them spoke.

“I didn’t mean to live this long, you know.”

They did know -- the memory of their first meeting, when Grummer nearly collided with Halei in the hallway of a dark dungeon and bellowed ‘Are you doing to be my death?!’, had been fondly recalled over many a shared drink. Halei squeezed Aviva’s shoulder.

“I was ready, back then. Ready to die in glorious battle. I didn’t know there were other ways to live, or other ways to die.” He offered another laboured laugh. “And then it turned out I was some weird vengeance ghost, and suddenly a death on the battlefield seemed less important. Living and seeing the world at peace… That became important.” A smile bloomed across his scarred face. “I rode the magma rivers in Scanderimus. I forged treaties between the Orc tribes. I taught a new generation of warriors the true meaning of honour.” Opening his one good eye, Grummer grinned. “Fifteen years past that day, and here I am. At peace. Who knew?”

A choked laugh-cry escaped Aviva’s lips as tears started to trickle down her cheeks. “Who knew?”

“Oh come now, don’t do that,” Grummer chided, but his tone was gentle. “Didn’t I just say I was at peace?”

“How about one more time, just so we’re very, very certain?” Halei’s voice was steady, but her fingers shuddered against Aviva’s shoulder.

Grummer sighed and closed his eye again, smile never faltering. “If you insist. This body, this heart, this soul… I, Grummer of the Ghost Beetle, the Hero of Light… am at peace.”

His smile faded. His breathing stopped.

He was at peace.

(Art by @sbeep)

[angst-and-heartache]

Ranger!UA

Chapter 5: Vengence

The folowing is a fictional story based off events in the show RWBY. All rights and ownership belong to Rooster Teeth. Any pallels between this story and future episodes of RWBY are pure coincidence and I claim no credit for them. Please support Rooster Teeth and watch the show through them if you haven't already.

3 days passed normally with a small amount of grimm roaming towards the town each night. The fourth day there was nothing. No grimm, not so much as a snarl. Ruby brushed this off at first, assuming the grimm would return the next day. Still nothing. On the seventh night since Weiss had left Ruby received a message. Atlasian soldiers would be arriving in two days. The next night Ruby was truly confused. The grimm hadn’t attacked in five days and she was sure she hadn’t killed them all. The grimm’s numbers never diminished in her experience, even after taking down several hundred at once. Something wasn’t right and she knew this. She returned to her home once more as the sun was just about to rise. “What the hell…? This isn’t right. Grimm never go th-” She stopped at her doorway and grit her teeth. A low growl could be heard behind her. “So that’s what you were doing.” Looking out of the corner of her eye she could see a beowolf alpha emerging from the woods. It stood nearly five times the size of a normal beowolf with much more armor covering its body. The beast leapt at her baring its fangs. Ruby ducked and spun away as it crashed through her doorway into her home. She drew Crescent rose as several more beowolves crept over her roof. “I spent a long time on this house, so fuck off!” She leapt at the beasts, swinging her scythe with blinding speed and precision. Several of them dropped in seconds. The alpha came barreling out of the house, snarling at Ruby as an arrow embedded itself in its chest. A roar of pain erupted from the things maw as a dozen more grimm came running out of the woods. Ruby went to work hacking, slashing, and cleaving at grimm as a horde converged on the house. She was soon surrounded by beowolves and ursas. She was backed up to her house, holding them at bay as they charged. An alpha managed to slash at the Ranger between attacks. She barely dodged, the beast’s claw catching her side, tearing through her armor. “Dammit!” Ruby winced. Using her bracer, Ruby pulled out an arrow and shoved it into the alpha’s eye, dropping it instantly. Before she could recover the sound of wood snapping behind her caught her ear. She turned around as splinters blasted past her and a behemoth, a large grimm resembling a black mammoth with white tusks and a white skull-like plate on its head, tore through her home. She held up Crescent Rose to block the tusks only to have the weapon thrown from her hands and herself thrown into the edge of the woods. She rolled several yards across the ground, coming to a hard stop against a tree. Ruby stood, panting as her aura crackled around her. Ruby’s vision blurred and her breathing became shallow. Wincing, she clutched her side. Several of her rib were shattered and it hurt to breath. Fighting a straight fight against this many grimm in her condition would prove difficult even for her. She took a painful breath to clear her vision and scanned the area quickly. Dozens of grimm surrounded her, a couple behemoths numbering among them. Amongst the ruins of her home stood a humanoid figure. Ruby recognized him instantly. “You.” Ruby drew Bloodtinge. “You killed my mother.” The figure laughed. “Your mother? Well, if that’s so then come avenge her. It should be fun.” The figure stepped into the light, a scrawny looking man with a scar across his face. Tan skin and a long black ponytail resembling a scorpion’s tail. “If you can reach me, that is.” He laughed maniacally as a nevermore flew overhead. Ruby grit her teeth and vanished into a cloud of rose petals. Ruby now stood next to him, Bloodtinge at his throat. “Don’t underestimate me.” The man looked up, not paying Ruby and mind. “Might want to watch where you’re standing.” Ruby looked up as the nevermore was diving at her. She managed to hold her blade up to block as several nevermore quills pierced the ground around her, two glancing off the large blade. The man took this opportunity to attack, swinging at her with two wrist mounted blades. Ruby cried out and staggered backwards, hand covering her right eye. Blood poured down her face from behind her hand, covering the entire right side of her face and blocking her vision. She slowly lowered her hand, revealing a sizable gash. “You bastard!” She spat. Another cry from the nevermore alerted Ruby. Gritting her teeth, Ruby stabbed her blade into the ground. The man watched her curiously as she pulled a quill out of the ground. Holding it at the base of the feathered portion she aimed it like a javelin. She lined it up and launched the quill, spearing the nevermore in the neck. The creature went down quickly, crashing into the house behind the man. “My my. You’re a strong one. And you can still see well enough to aim like that? Impressive. No wonder my mistress wants you dead.” Ruby gripped the handle of her weapon, panting. “Shut the hell up. You better hope this injury is worse than it looks because it’s the only way you’ll manage to kill me.” She twisted the handle like she was revving a motorcycle and the edge of the blade glowed with an eerie red tinge. “Come on, you bastard.” The man cackled. “Oh, Little Red. Did you really think this would be a fair fight?” Ruby glared at him as best she could with one eye as the forest around her lit up with a dozen pairs of red eyes. “No.” Ruby said, a silver aura beginning to form around her uninjured eye. “I didn’t.” The grimm in the forest charged at Ruby, only to be engulfed in a blinding white light that erupted from the woman. The man recoiled and covered his eyes. “Gah!” When the light faded all of the grimm turned to ash. Ruby stood in the same position, panting. The aura around her eye persisted but did little more than glow now. Ruby chuckled as the man snarled at her. “I guess you haven’t been doing your research. You should have hunted me down years ago.” Her tone was lighthearted but there was an unmistakable fury in her eye. She hated this man with every fiber of her being. She removed her blade from the ground and moved towards the man. “Tyrian, wasn’t it?” The air around the blade shimmered as heat radiated from it. “I hope you weren’t expecting a fair fight.”

Tyrian watched Ruby as she closed in on him, a twisted grin on his face. “Mommy’s little girl thinks she can win this fight? You’ll die just like she did.” Ruby stopped a few meters from Tyrian, the blade of Bloodtinge singing what grass was left on the ground. “You’re five years too late to make that claim.” She swung the blade in an upward arc, aiming for his head. Tyrian’s eyes widened as he arched backwards, the heat from the blade slightly burning the skin on his face. He did a back handspring to increase the distance between himself and Ruby. Tyrian placed his right hand on his cheek and winced. “You bitch!” He growled and lunged at her. A flurry of white and grey steel bursted out and sparks flew across the battlefield. While Tyrian had the advantage of dual weapons and faster attacks Ruby had mastered her semblance using it to hasten her attacks and keep up with Tyrian. Their auras shattered almost simultaneously and the two jumped away from each other, panting. There were several cauterized wounds littering Tyrian’s torso. Ruby only had a large gash on her back and a gash on her left shoulder but they were deep, having torn through her armor and muscle. Her left arm was shaking slightly, forcing Ruby to fight with one hand. Ruby revved the hilt again as Tyrian lunged, their blades clashing and coming to a standstill. “You should know something about my mother.” Ruby said, looking Tyrian in the eyes. “She hated fighting. She loathed it.” Tyrian cackled. “What does it matter? She’s dead now!” Ruby smirked. “Maybe, but when a huntsman or huntress designs their own weapon it is an extension of themself. My mother designed this weapon to prevent her from having to spill blood. When she couldn’t avoid conflict the blood stained the blade. She never tried to clean it because it served as a reminder. This heat was also her idea.” Ruby pressed the blade against Tyrian’s. As they two pressed into each other Ruby’s blade began cutting through Tyrian’s. As his blades broke Ruby spun on her toe and landed a spinning heel kick to Tyrian’s temple. He let out a short cry of pain as he was thrown to the ground. When he turned over the now cooled blade of Bloodtinge was at his throat. “Give up or I will kill you.” Ruby said calmly. Tyrian grinned. “I don’t think so.” A flash of movement from Ruby’s left caught her attention. Her reflexes kicked in as her left hand grasped the object, sending a jolt of pain through her body. She looked over to see a scorpion tail and stinger protruding from Tyrian’s body with the stinger inches from her face. There was a tug as he tried to free the appendage from her grasp to no avail. Ruby drew back and cleaved the back half of the tail off, placing her foot on Tyrian’s chest. A guttural scream erupted from Tyrian’s throat as he thrashed under Ruby’s boot. She stood there, letting him feel the pain for a moment. “You should have just given up. I gave you a chance.” She took her boot off his chest and took a step back. “Stand up.” Tyrian glared at her pushing himself to his feet. Ruby placed the tip of her blade against his chest. The two started at each other for a moment. Tyrian’s blood boiled hotter with each passing second. How could he have lost against this woman? Why was she so much stronger than he was? It a fit of rage he shoved Ruby’s blade aside, cutting a gash across his chest, and lunged at Ruby. His attack passed harmlessly through a cloud of rose petals. The rev of Bloodtinge caught his ear. Ruby was standing beside him, blade hoisted into the air ready to strike. “This is for my mother.” She brought the blade down and the forest fell silent. Tyrian’s body slumped to the ground, lifeless. Ruby staggered back and dropped to her knees. Breathing heavily, she looked around the remnants of the battle. “Damn… that could have gone better.” She then turned her attention to her mother’s weapon. “I got him Mom. I know you would probably be upset with me for killing him but he was too far gone to save. I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.” Ruby stood slowly and placed Bloodtinge in its sheath and retrieved her scythe she lost at the beginning of the battle. She also bandaged her shoulder, back, and eye as best she could before sitting down in what was left of the kitchen. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, resting against the wall. “Guess I’ll wait for that transport.” With that she passed out, exhausted.

[for-a-flower]

Next Challenge

           Flowey emerged from dry group between cracked, brick walls of the Ruins, which were left in shadow due to an absence of power from the Core.  The flower had no wish to free monsters anymore.  He had forgotten why he tried to care.  Few thoughts came back to his mind from his life before.  But the one that stuck with him was the phrase . . . kill or be killed.  Over the next several minutes, Flowey hunted monsters of the Ruins.  Froggits . . . Moldsmols . . . spiders . . . everything.  He didn't care about them.  The only use they served was a rescue from boredom.

           Two froggits bounced away from the flower, hoping to conceal themselves further down a dark, narrow hallway.  With just a couple pellets, Flowey dealt a fatal blow.  Both small monsters fell as dust to the ground.  He was growing stronger with each kill and was curious to know just how strong he could get.  A whoosh of warm air and an orange glow lit the hall behind the flower.

            “Stop!” shouted a stern, familiar voice.  Flowey slowly turned his head to greet her with a happy, fanged grin.  Toriel Dreemurr stood in his path and a ring of fire whirled around her, stirring up red leaves.

           Flowey peered up at the monster he once called his mother.  His petals were torn and dull, stem jagged and bent.  “Oh, finally decide to show up?”  Flowey glanced down, briefly directing her gaze to little piles of white dust that littered the ground around him.  Then he returned his focus to Toriel and spoke in a dark tone.  “You’re a little late . . . Toriel.”

          Her red eyes widened a little.  “How can you know who I am?” she asked.

          “Because I’ve already been to the castle.”  Flowey frowned slightly.  “The king said . . . he missed you.”

           Toriel scowled.  “Asgore is stubborn.  He is foolish to think that I would ever return.”

           “Was,” Flowey corrected.  He smiled again.  “He’s dead.”

           The goat-like monster lifted her hand to prepare an attack.  “Then I will stop you myself before you kill anyone else!”

           Flowey burst into a cackling laughter at the thought.  Vines punched through the walls, blocking off the space between them.  Others grew up around Flowey.  “Hee hee hee . . . Do you really think you stand a chance?” he said.  Toriel took a few steps back just as a vine came up behind her.  She glanced over her shoulder to toss a ball of fire at it.  The thing grabbed at her.  Toriel ducked then seared its twisted shape with a spread of fire, only to be attacked by a couple scattered pellets.  She staggered as the fire around her went out.  Flowey wrapped two vines around the monster then leaned forward with an erie grin.  “No one can stop me,” he growled.

           Toriel struggled to pull free, digging claws into the thorny vines around her.  “What kind of horrid creature are you?”

           Flowey ignored the annoying pain that her struggling caused and continued.  “I am the new ruler of the underground!  I decide who lives and dies!  And I’m only getting stronger.”  His grip grew tighter.

           Toriel frowned.  “Monsters do not deserve what you are doing to them.”

           “Don’t deserve it?  Oh, they deserve even worse.”  Flowey glanced away, letting the vines loosen their grip a little.  “You don’t know what I’ve had to live with.  The loneliness . . . the boredom . . . the pain.  I was abandoned.”  Flowey looked back up at Toriel in the dark, his glowing eyes turning red.  “And do you know what happened?  No one came!”  He tightened his hold of Toriel again.  “I’ve had enough of monsters tormenting me with love that I can’t have anymore!” he shouted.

           “You cannot love when you already hate,” said Toriel.

           “You’re one to talk . . .”  Flowey squeezed harder.  “I only hate because I cannot love!  Do you know what it’s like?!  I used to care!  I used to love you very much!  But now it’s been torn away from me, along with my soul!”

          Toriel gasped.  “Asriel?!”

          Flowey snarled.  “No!  Don’t call me that.”

          She was struggling to breathe yet even then Toriel’s mood suddenly shifted.  “Please . . . I can try to help you,” she said.

          “No!  I don’t need you now!  What I need is someone who actually understand what it’s like to try to live like this!”

           Toriel grabbed at the vines which had wrapped around her throat, their thorns cutting and stinging.  “Asriel . . . you are killing me.”

           “I know.  Good bye, Toriel,” he growled.  Flowey watched her struggle for one last breath shortly before her red eyes closed.  There was a part of him that wanted to regret what he had done.  He wanted to care, to know that she somehow still mattered.  But even as Toriel’s body scattered to dust, Flowey felt no sadness, no remorse.  A small glowing light now floated among tangled vines before the flower.  He burrowed, leaving what was left of Toriel to die alone.  The faint light flickered and trembled for a second.  It scattered and faded away in the dark.  Flowey left the Ruins behind, barren, dark, and desolate.

           Elsewhere, Sans rushed down a dark castle hallway toward the throne room.  Ash drifted through from the direction of Hotland.  When he reached the throne room’s open gate, the skeleton slowed to enter a dark interior.  “King Asgore?” he called.  There was no reply.  Sans reluctantly stepped further in, his eyes darting left and right.  Among the shadows, he could make out dark, thorny vines that had grown up the walls.  As soon as he saw the king’s empty throne, Sans stopped.  “Asgore?” he called.  The skeleton glanced around the broken room once more before his eyes drifted down.  He was standing in white dust that lay among chard Golden Flowers.  Sans gasped and his eyes went dark.  “This is bad,” he said.

           When Flowey reached Waterfall, his welcome to the dark caves was not a pleasant one.  Most of the smaller monsters had gathered together in order to fight him off.  Their efforts were pitiful.  At this point, Flowey passed through them with no difficulty, only gaining more strength in the process.  His determination was growing.  And at the mere thought of wanting to save his progress thus far, a tiny yellow spark lit up the cavern before him.  After he cleared most monsters in Waterfall, Flowey started for Snowdin.  He had gained decent practice moving along the ground with his roots.  And without any immediate threat to his life, he saw no reason not to.  Flowey froze when a blue, magic spear flew just inches passed his head.

           “Damn it!” shouted Undyne further down the dark path.  Flowey turned to look just as Undyne and Papyrus emerged from shadows to block his way.  Undyne wore a full suit of metal armor with a magic spear ready in her hand.  Papyrus looked about as ready as he ever could for a fight, even though beads of sweat were already forming on his skull-like head.

           Flowey giggled.  “Aw, you both want to fight me too?”

           Undyne pointed her spear forward.  “You!  Flower!  Whatever you are!”

           Flowey’s smile switched to an innocent look of surprise.  “Me?  What would you want with little old me?”

           “I’m not about to let you leave Waterfall alive, punk!” said Undyne.

           Papyrus stiffened up with a tough look as well.  He put his hands on his hips.  “Yes!  We shall prevent you from destroying any more lives!  You can be sure that I, the Great Papyrus, will give my best to end your journey!”

           Undyne snarled.  “Your life is at an end, flower.  I will strike you down like the weed you are!”

           Flowey smiled pleasantly.  “Finally . . . an actual challenge?”  His voice slurred lower.  “I accept!”  He tossed a couple half-hearted pellet attacks to start with.  Undyne stepped forward to take most of the hit against her armor, protecting both herself Papyrus from damage.  The skeleton summoned several bones and threw them passed Undyne.  Flowey simply ducked below ground to avoid the attack.  As soon as he came up again a couple feet to the right, Undyne swung her spear at him.  It barely scraped one of his petals.  Green magic coated the flower’s body but he took no damage.  Flowey grinned.  “You missed!”

           Undyne grinned back and raised her spear.  Several magic javelins appeared around Flowey.  “Did I?” she asked.

           Flowey tried to burrow, only to find that he couldn’t move.  This green magic was holding him, preventing him from fleeing the fight.  He frowned.  “Uh . . .”  Undyne pointed her spear forward, commanding the others to strike.  A quick, sharp pain overcame him followed by darkness and silence.  Flowey growled.  “No!  Go back!  I’m not done!”

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[talesofdungeonsanddragons]

The Lion’s Den

"Why are you coming inside?" A guard immediately demanded as they stepped into the clean marble foyer. The first thing that Phoenix took note of was the few wooden crates that were scattered around the hall. Other than the crates the hall was empty, which she regarded as odd. She must have been staring at them because she felt Damian subtly drive his elbow into her side.

"Two of our men went to help some whore with her things and never came back." Damian said in a gruff voice that was far from his usual dulcet tone. The guard, a grey-skinned tiefling with some of the sharpest cheekbones she had ever seen, gave no indication if Damian gave himself away by speaking. The three of them stood in an uneasy silence for a few seconds before the guard gave a roll of his eyes, surprising both Phoenix and Damian.

"Those idiots chase after anything with breasts." He muttered in exasperation as though they were discussing juvenile boys instead of trained assassins. If possible, Phoenix tried to sink further into the cloak that obscured her features as Damian gave a forced chuckle. Humanizing the guards that they just killed created an awkward atmosphere that only the two of them could feel, but the teifling seemed to be oblivious to their discomfort. "I'll send some backup to go help them."

"We're going to go rest in the barracks if you don't need help…" Damian trailed off, seemingly unsure how to finish the sentence. This made the teifling pause for a second, peering at the pair of them with suspicion in his eyes.

"Protocall is that you accompany me to investigate the disturbance." He put a hand on his hips, unsettlingly close to his sword, and gave them a once-over. Phoenix's heart hammered in her chest as she held back the urge to simply attack the man to stop this painful line of questioning, but she simply lowered her head and waited for Damian to speak. Damian paused as his mind reeled for a reply, but the teifling seemed to brush off the mistake. "It is late my, friends. Go get some rest."

The two adventurers felt the tension leave their shoulders as he spoke. As long as they got deep enough inside before anyone raised an alarm, the others should have enough time to climb the towers and make sure that they wouldn't be shot down by archers during their infiltration. Confident once more, Damian smirked and led the way as they breezed past the teifling. Phoenix almost mimicked his self-assured stride, but found herself stumbling as she felt the cloak around her shoulders tighten before tearing away from her form.

"Fu-" Her curse was cut off as she barely dodged a slim sword that was aimed for her throat, her knees bashing the marble floor as she dropped to the ground and rolled to the side. Damian lunged forward and slashed the teifling's face with one of his arrows as Phoenix popped up behind the man and wrapped one of her whips around his neck. The teifling swiftly kicked Damian away while simultaneously driving an elbow into Phoenix's side. She let out a grunt, but didn't let loose the grip she had on the whips.

"I knew I sensed a bitch." The teifling managed to choke out, once again slamming an elbow into her side. This time her grip slipped, allowing him to shove her off and dodge the attack by Damian. The teifling grinned at her, standing as though she had barely scratched him. "There's a reason that we don't let women into our guild."

"Woah, I thought that you guys were an assassins guild not a magic guild!" Damian exclaimed, straightening up with a faux surprised expression. "But look at you! Conjuring misogyny out of thin air!"

For the first time, Phoenix felt herself actually laughing at one of Damian's jokes. Hearing her reaction, Damian shot her a grin which she reluctantly returned with a shake of her head.

"It isn't that difficult of a spell, Damian." She replied, a chuckle lingering in the back of her throat. "I'm sure an idiot like him could learn it."

The two of them both dissolved into laughter, frustrating the tiefling as they completely ignored his threatening step forward. Phoenix straightened up, one hand holding her gut as it hurt from both laughing and the two brutal blows that it took a few minutes ago, and shook her head once more at Damian. It had been a while since she had laughed that hard, and it almost seemed fitting that it had happened in the most inappropriate of times.

"Alright, the others should have taken care of the towers by now." She tried to force her smile from her face, but found it difficult as she saw the look of pure bewilderment that the teifling had. "So are you going to surrender or not?"

"Go to hell." He spat before darting forward and slashing downward. Phoenix sidestepped and allowed Damian to brush past her and drive his arrow into the man's throat. Gargling filled the air as he began to choke, one hand clutching the area around the wound while the other grasped at the air in front of him. Phoenix's smile finally slipped away as she looked away from the grotesque scene, not looking back until she heard a thump and then nothing more.

"Ah, that was fun!" Damian was far too cheerful for just impaling someone, but for the first time in a while, Phoenix didn't find that she minded. She walked over to the door that lead out of the foyer and peeked into the hallway, blinking in surprise when she didn't see more assassins coming. All she saw was a few more crates scattered throughout the stone hallway.

"It looks empty?" Her tone was unsure, as there were a number of enchantments that could make it look like an empty hallway. She stepped forward and quickly held out a hand, her fingers encased in a soft violet glow as she tried to detect the presence of magic. When nothing came up, she stepped further in. "I think that it's safe."

"Good, we need to meet the others in the courtyard." Damian said from the foyer, joining her after a few seconds as he tried to rub the blood on his hands off on his cloak. He shot her a smirk and joined her at the large oak doors, leading into the courtyard that ringed the main building of the stronghold. The cool midnight air blew the stray curls that had fallen from her braids, making her wrinkle her nose. About six men who were speaking in front of the main stronghold whipped around as the two of them stepped onto the cobblestone path.

There was a moment of silence before Damian nervously laughed.

"This isn't our inn!" He threw a tense arm around Phoenix, which she immediately pushed off of her shoulders. "We must have taken a wrong turn! Excuse us gentlemen but-"

He didn't get to finish whatever witty reply he had because an axe flew at his head in the next moment. Phoenix acted fast and shoved him to the side, watching as the axe barely brushed against her arm in the process. It was only the smallest of scratches, but it was enough to make her glare at whoever threw it.

She snapped her whips out, finding something satisfying about the resounding crack they made as they hit empty air. Before she could rush forward, she heard a whistling in the air and watched as a javelin drilled the shoulder of the man who had thrown the axe.

Phoenix let out a growl of frustration at the fact that Bamf wouldn't let her just have one badass moment and instead rushed at the next closest man. After ducking under the sword that he swung at her, she drew back her arm and delivered a strong blow to his throat. Choking, he stepped backwards with one hand clutching his throat. Taking this opportunity, she hooked her foot behind his and knocked him backwards. As he fell, her arm darted forward. Her whip snaked around his neck, causing it to snap to an unsettling angle as he fell to the ground.

At her side, Damian ran to the man with a javelin in his shoulder and shoved it further in while also driving and arrow into his uninjured shoulder. A tortured scream rang out through the courtyard, silence in the next moment.

Apparently unable to contain himself any longer, Dovahkiin descended from one of the ladders on the outer wall and dove into the group of assassins with a bellowing war cry. Phoenix made a face, but had to admit it sounded better than the folk songs that he had been singing on the way there. The fight dissolved into a blur of flashing metal accompanied by the singing of blades, ending as Thanatos summoned a bolt of lightning to strike down the remaining enemies.

"We should...have started with that." Damian panted, leaning over to catch his breath. Dovahkiin let out a bassy chuckle, slapping him on the back roughly.

"You need to get into better shape, my friend! You'll never keep up with my numbers in your current state!" Dovahkiin's face split into a wide smile, delighted in tonight's events. Phoenix rolled her eyes, getting used to her acquaintances constant lust for battle.

"Why weren't there more men? This is a stronghold." Bamf, as usual, completely ignored the banter.

"Judging by the crates, I'd say that they were moving." Phoenix replied, walking over to one of the wooden boxes and pushing the top open. Inside was rows of vials, carefully nestled in tufts of hay. If she were to guess, she'd say that they were poisons of some kind.

"I wouldn't touch thos', lass."

Phoenix whipped around, holding her weapons aloft in either hand as a gruff, yet feminine voice, came from the doorway behind them. Out of the shadows stepped a short figure, a mess of burgundy curls falling around a round face. It was a dwarvish woman with a knobby nose, holding a battle axe in her hands in a non-threatening manner.

"Who are you?" Dovahkiin demanded, drawing his large sword in preparation. Phoenix shot him a look, as it was clear she wasn't about to attack. The dwarf woman had come alone and had a relaxed stance, making it clear that she was not currently a threat. This did little to assure Phoenix to a point of trusting this woman, but she felt a bit more at ease.

"Kiligana." She gave a slight bow of her head, placing a calloused hand over her leather chestplate. Her mossy green eyes looked at both the hammers in Dovahkiin's hands and the whips that Phoenix held, and her lips twisted into a larger grin. "I came ta' help ya out, but you lot seem ta' have it under control. Not surprised since it looks like ya folks are friends wit' Darius n' Tibul."

"What is that accent?" Damian whispered to Bamf in a not very subtle way. Phoenix resisted the urge to smack him for such an insensitive comment, settling on sending a glare his way instead. In truth, she did find the woman's accent a bit difficult to understand. It was an odd dialect that she hadn't heard much of, despite the fact that she had traveled to many different places.

"I'm Phoenix and these are my companions." She mimicked the woman's slight bow, grimacing as she felt that the leathery material of the assassin's uniform was soaked with blood. Once introductions were out of the way, Kiligana eyed the middle stronghold with a curious eye.

"I d'nno about ya, but I'm a bit curious 'bout what's in there." She walked forward and knocked her axe against the cold metal door.

"We took out the men, so we get the treasure." Dovahkiin rumbled, crossing his arms as he watched her size up the door.

"We aren't here for treasure, Dova." The nickname slipped through her lips before she realized what she had said, but Phoenix brushed it off as a habit from long ago. "We're here for answers about the men who are trying to kill us."

"I mean there's still a chance of treasure." Dovahkiin argued, pressing a large hand against the metal and shoving it open. With a screech of metal scraping against stone, it opened to reveal a large room with two figures standing next to a shining chest. One of them, a blue teifling, turned to them with an easygoing grin.

"Nearly ten minutes." He sighed, his long fingers tapping against the wooden chest in a consistent rhythm. "I expected more of the protigees of Darius and Tibul."