#the calm sounds of water and its reflection on the ceiling

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Pretty peaceful yukata Mikey

[whoreish-behaviour]

Revenant 5

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Na'vi!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Reader's english is better, can understand more (thanks Spider) - but still struggles to communicate back

Warnings >~< = restraints, man-handling, spanking, fingering, the slightest bit of overstim ever.

The twists and turns before you felt endless as you crawled, your arms aching from dragging yourself.

But you didn't dare give up - you couldn't.

You didn't know what the Colonel would do if he got hold of you, maybe he'd kill you this time. You weren't going to stick around to find out.

It was eerily quiet, the only sounds that echoed were your breathing and shuffling.

It was then that you smelt it.

The salty and distinguishable smell of the ocean.

You almost knocked your head off the vent's ceiling as you perked up, the smell filling your nose with hope.

With new found confidence, you crawled faster - nose up and leading you until you eventually came to a skylight - the blue of the sky providing light in the dark tunnel.

You shuffled until you were kneeling, hands reaching up for the handle as you tugged it.

You whined when it didn't budge, using your other hands to slap up and against the glass.

You sighed out in relief when you heard little window give way, the rusted old frame wearing down until you could fully push the door open, air immediately flowing through.

'Yes!' You cried out, grabbing the ledge and using it to hurle yourself up.

You almost cried when you felt the breeze of freedom wash over you as you climbed out.

You looked around, hair whipping everywhere as you saw that you were on the top of a ship, dark blue ocean surrounding you.

However a loud, blaring alarm made you jump as you looked down where you had just climbed out of - seeing the reflection of flashing red lights bouncing off the vent walls.

Not knowing how much time you had left you quickly turned away and walked to the edge of the ship, the waves below slapping harshly up against the side of it.

Taking a deep breath, you cupped your hands together and without thinking dived into the icy depths.

Once you were submerged, you opened your eyes - locating the ship once again so you could swim away, tailing throbbing as you attempted to use it.

Swimming deeper down, you focused on putting as much distance between you and the ship, your pace not as fast as you wished but it was the best you could do injured.

You were going home.

After a while, you felt your lungs ache for air - using your arms to direct you up, legs kicking out behind you.

You gasped as you resurfaced, closing your eyes as you tried to relax from pushing your limits, arms keeping you afloat.

How unaware you were..

You weren't expecting the claws that dug into your right arm, piercing the flesh in a painful grip as you were pulled clean out the water.

You eyes shot open as your cried out and hissed, other hand immediately reaching over to attempt to free yourself as you looked up.

Although you weren't expecting the claws of a Ikran to be the one drawing blood from your arm, most of your surprise came from the fact that the Colonel was the one riding it.

He was glaring down at you, green eyes full of rage as he snarled at your pain ridden face.

You felt the Ikran use its other claw to wrap around your body, supporting you are you were flown right back towards the ship.

You hissed at the beast, hands stilling trying to dislodge your arms from it's grip - but it was no use.

He had caught you..

Once you were close enough, the grip on your finally loosened - sending you tumbling to the roof of the ship, the landing hard and painfully as you cried.

You slid along the floor, your blood dripping and staining both you and the ground.

You curled up as you watch the Colonel land, jumping from the flying banshee who hissed at you - sharp razor teeth glaring.

You hissed back, clutching at your wounded arm as the Colonel walked closer to you, his step unhurried and calm until he was stood directly in from of your shaking form.

'So, you ripped the vent off the wall..'

He kneeled in from of you, ears back as he moved in closer.

'..compromised the oxygen level on the entire ship..'

His lips were snarling more and more as he spoke, towering over you.

'..all for me to find you not even 10 minutes later.' You whimpered as he hooked two fingers under the collar around your neck and dragged you close to him.

It then dawned on you,

'This has a tracking devise in it, you try anything and we'll be able to track you, understand?'

Sensing your realisation, the colonel shook his head in disbelief, your utter naivety unbelievable.

'I think a punishment will set you straight.'

Your heart dropped as the word punishment left his lips in your mother tongue, body trying to curl and seem smaller but his hold on your collar stopping you.

He then smiled at you, hiding the aggression bubbling below and fangs flashing.

Using his hook on you, he pulled you forward and to the side, leaning his body closer as his other hand wrapped around your waist - tugging you up and over his shoulder.

You didn't resist and only quietly whimpered to yourself as he secured you, hand flat on your lower back.

You felt your tears built up, watching the ground move as you were carried off.

...

'Keep fuckin’ crying, see where it get's you.' He scolded you, hands roughly grabbing yours as he brought them to rest against your lower back, the table cold and wet from your damp clothes and tears below you.

You were bent over, face pressed flat against the surface and hands tied.

The room was similar to the one you had originally woken up in, however there was no mirror this time and the lights weren't blinding and fluorescent.

The table was also bigger, height and width.

'Proud of yourself?' The colonel jabbed as he leaned over you body, his face leaning over your shoulder to gaze down as your teary face.

You shook your head and sniffed.

You felt his hands move from resting flat on on either side of your waist to trailing across and down your back, goosebumps raising in his wake.

You held your breath as he gripped the base of your tail, beginning to pull it up - your back naturally arching with it.

His warmth left you as he stood up, the material on his legs still brushing up against the back of your thighs.

'Let's see if you still misbehave after this hm..' You whimpered when his hand that wasn't gripping your tail trailed further down and cupped your ass roughly.

No one had even come close to touching you like that before.

You whined as he let go, thick fingers brushing over the skin before leaving you entirely. You fought against yourself to look back, you back arching more as your tail moved gently.

Why had he moved away?

You soon found out when you felt his palm loudly connect with your right cheek, a painful shooting surfacing on the skin as you cried out.

Feeling him draw back, he repeated the same action again and again - the grip around your tail tightening as you squirmed on the table.

'Quit movin’ before I strap you to the fuckin' table.' You heard him spit at you, calming yourself down as his hand ran over the now sensitive skin.

You shook as you snivelled to yourself.

Never would you have expected this.

Although you weren't moving anymore, you felt the tension in your body - the new kind of pain shaking you to your core.

Feeling his hand leave the warm skin again, you tensed up as you prepared for the blow.

However it didn't come.

Perking your ears, you tried to look back - your vision limited from your shoulder. You relaxed again against the table, tail slowing to a soft sway.

When, Smack!

You shrieked at the unexpected pain, three more strikes quickly following one after another.

Tears rolled down your cheeks when he didn't stop, continuing on and only pausing to tell you to stop movin' or when you tensed too much.

He'd wait for you to relax, guarding dropping and leaving you venerable to his attacks.

That was when they hurt most - and he knew that.

'Are you-'

Smack!

'still gonna-'

Smack!

'disobey?'

Smack!

You shook your head, hiccuped sobs leaving you as you cried out, 'No!'

You felt him pause, the hand still on your ass beginning to inspect the sore skin.

The colonel watched as he used his thumb to gently rub the area, the faintest red marks littered on both your cheeks. His ears flicked in your direction as you quietly whimpered to yourself.

You were limp against the table, your tail dead weight in his hands. Although your cries did leave a pit in his stomach - he didn't regret a thing.

You had to learn.

And it wasn't his fault this was his favourite way to get you to, however he knew he couldn't leave you like this.

You had taken your punishment well and he wasn't entirely evil.

You gasped out when you felt his thumb trail lower, slipping between your ass and pressing gently against your lower lips.

You were covered, your loinscloth not only covering your mound but everything below before wrapping around your tail in a traditional design.

Still, your could feel his heat through the thin fabric - your pussy naturally producing slick in an effort to please him.

You quietened down almost immediately, hands gripping each other tightly as you were forced to sit and take the pleasure he was providing you.

Your senses heightened at the newfound touch, tail moving instinctively to twist and wrap around the arm holding it.

You moaned as he moved the material, the air turning the arousal that cling to your lips cold as you shivered, head gently dropping to rest against the table.

'Fuck, look how wet you are already.' You ears perked up as the colonel groaned, your face instantly turning to try and look at him.

'Colonel please..' You whined, eyes pleading him.

He looked up at you lazily, eyes hooded and dark while he sniffed the air around him.

He could smell you everywhere.

'So needy..' He spoke before he leaned down over you, nose running along your spine as your bucked back against him.

Tilting you head, you whined when his head disappeared from your view.

You felt like a live wire when his thumb finally made contact with you, this time nothing separating you as he dragged it along your slit - collecting your slick and spreading it.

You whined, your body unsure how to react.

His thumb then went lower, swirling around your clit in firms circles as your tried to grind against his hand. He didn't object to your movements, so you continued.

Everything felt wet and slippery as your legs shook - pussy clenching around nothing.

You cried when his thumb left you, hips stuttering when you suddenly felt him plunge the finger inside you, your walls stretching around him tightly.

His groaned as your walls sucked his finger in, the passage tight as he massaged - preparing and stretching you out.

You clearly had never been touched.

You moaned at the new but good feeling, your cunt spamming around him as you rocked back.

You felt him step closer to you, his body pressing yours even further into the table as you felt something hard poke where your thigh and ass met.

He began to thrust inside you, thumb coated in you as a sickening shlick echoed around the room over and over again.

'Please colonel, I feel weird.' You begged, hands pressed tightly to your back as he put more weight on you - dominating your body.

He sped up his thrusts, now angling his middle finger up to run circles on your clit again.

'Come on, let go.' His voice was deeper as he pressed his lips to your back, his hips starting to grind against yours.

Moving in unison, your cried out as pressure began to build in your stomach.

'That’s a good girl, keep clenching around me.' He coaxed as he felt you shake beneath him, your high beginning to rock throughout your body and you screamed for him.

Stopping his thrusts, he opted to just pressing down on your G-spot - fingers still circling your clit tp help you through your high as you cried so sweetly.

'Feels good mhm?' He asked as he slowed down, your body shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm as he teased you over the edge of overstimulation, middle finger still tracing your clit until you squirmed your hips away, panting out.

Only then did he stop, gently pulling his thumb out of you as your come began to leak out - no longer being plugged up.

As much as he wanted to kneel down and clean you himself, plunge his tongue inside you and draw out any left over arousal, he knew you had to earn that.

You had to behave.

So for now he stood up and lifted his thumb to his lips, almost groaning out as your sweet taste invaded his mouth, coating his tongue in a way that left him wanting more.

He wanted to consume you.

And he knew eventually he would, you'd be left a whimpering mess, body covered in marks and bites that screamed that you were his.

Lol, I had someone mad message me bc I made a Colonel Quaritch fic instead of Jake Sully - I can’t anymore lmaoo

Also comments welcome, I love reading them 🙊

Part 6

Kofi <33

Taglist = @namor-is-the-way @kimqueenofhell @simplefools @gremlinfuck @jupekali @cypherpt5fttaehyung @pturnersblog @girlblogger2002 @inkareds @lovejessejay @applesnbannasss @spookyspecterino @the-wafaa-blog @ateandleftnocrumz @witxhy-lexx @generational-tragedy @anbanananna @honestlyka @perseny

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 3

Part One  |  Part Two

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language, Violence, Depictions of drowning, Fluff

Summary: Delivered to safety following the battle on the beach, you are left reeling as you grapple with nightmares and questions about an uncertain future. But as you come to know more about the Talokanil people and grow closer to their king, Namor is faced with a question of his own -- what does he do with this stranger from the surface?

A/N: It’s heeeeeere!! As always, thank you so much for your patience, for being here, and for reading! And a BIG thank you just for taking the time to engage with and be a part of this story. You all have been so encouraging to me as new writer, and I love being able to create something around characters that so many hold so dear. Comments and reblogs make my heart happy, so please show some love, share the joy, and be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

Bullets fly as bodies hit the ground in front of you. There on the open beach, spears soar high above your head. Your gaze is drawn to the heavens as a chopper falls from the night sky. It crashes onto the shore below, an intense heat flashing against you as you shield your face from the explosion.

Suddenly, the sounds of dying men and burning metal fade as you lower your hand. You look down to find yourself waist-deep in a raging sea, the battle on the sand becoming a distant memory as waves beat harshly against you, unrelenting and unforgiving. A deafening melody accompanies each swell of the tide. It consumes your mind with pain and serenity as you are pulled further out into the ocean’s depths, following its call. The chorus grows louder as the water rises to your chest, building with intensity. Then, suddenly, all is quiet.

And there he is.

Hovering just above the water’s surface, his winged ankles carry him effortlessly. His reflection glistens perfectly against the water, now calm and smooth as glass. Illuminated by the full moon behind him, his body is covered in beautiful armor made of gold, jade, and other metals. A finely crafted serpent headpiece with bright feathers crowns his head, resting just above his brow.

Namor.

Wordlessly, Namor stretches out his hand, beckoning you to come to him. You reach out as if your very being is at his command. But, before you can grasp hold of him, the chorus of voices returns with a vengeance. A violent tide drags you under, swallowing you beneath the waves. Further and further down you are pulled as darkness surrounds you. Looking up toward the fading light, Namor’s silhouette above the surface dissolves from view. Your lungs burn as you begin to drown.

You jolt awake, your body shooting up in a cold sweat.

Chest heaving, your mind desperately claws its way back to reality. You quickly scan your surroundings, clinging to any detail that will anchor your consciousness and keep you from slipping back into that nightmare.

Gripping the stone surface beneath you, you take in every porous curve your fingertips graze over. Looking upward at the high rocky ceiling, you study the patterns of limestone stalactites that hang like icicles. Droplets of water run down a few of them, their melodious drips echoing in small pools below, falling like a gentle, rhythmic rain.

This is the place Namor had spoken of the last time you saw him. The one where he promised you would be safe. And for good reason — here in this cavern, you were well below the ocean’s surface and out of range of any agents who might come searching for you.

By your best guess, you figure you have been down here about two days. It’s hard to be sure without the reference to natural light. The cavern itself is beautiful, though. Illuminated by pockets of glow worms that drape down from the ceiling, their soft luminescence casts gorgeous green and blue hues across each surface their light touches.

As your heart rate begins to even out, you continue to survey the cave. You look over at your belongings, bag laying on the ground, clothes hanging on a line to dry. Your heart drops a bit when you see your little leather-bound book, its pages separated and spread out across the rocks. Ink bleeding. Pages ruined. You had made your best attempt to salvage what you could. Perhaps if you had asked Namora how the two of you would be traveling to this safe haven, you wouldn’t have brought a damn book with you.

The dissonance of the Talokan melody still rings in the back of your mind. You cradle your head between your knees, rubbing your temples with your thumbs when you hear light footsteps approach.

Looking up, you find a familiar face entering the cavern. No longer geared up for battle, Namora dawns a lovely dress that gathers over one shoulder and flows down to the floor. It moves like waves with each step she takes toward you. Instead of a spear in her hand, she now carries a small tray with a medley of food.

“Eat," Namora says, placing the tray on a small end table beside you. She then moves gracefully over to your draped belongings, removing them one by one from the line and folding them into a neat pile.

“Can I ask you a question?” You inquire as you begin to nibble on a piece of food.

Namora shoots a skeptical look over her shoulder but says nothing, so you ask anyway.

“Have you always been a warrior?”

Unresponsive, she keeps her attention on one of your shirts which she has just pulled from the line, tucking it into itself and placing it with the others.

“It's just, I mean the way you fought those agents on the beach, you are — you are very good at, you know—” you should have given more thought to what you were going to say before opening your mouth because as you reach the end of your sentence all that comes out is, “—killing people."

Nice.

You cringe at your comment. It hangs in the air, practically mocking you.

“I’m just saying," you add, trying to recover, "you obviously know what you’re doing. It was impressive. Me on the other hand…” Your voice trails as you raise your bandaged hand, recalling how your first instinct in a fight was to block a fucking knife with your open palm. Next to Namora, your combat skills pale by comparison.

Halting her task, Namora finally turns to face you in one calculated motion. She stares for a moment then her eyes quickly dart toward the side entrance of the cavern where she had come through only minutes ago. The entryway is empty. When her eyes settle back on you, there is resolve in them.

“Up.” She says, walking toward you with purpose.

“What?” You reply in a tone that matches the confused look on your face.

“Up.”

You do as you are told, hastily pushing yourself to your feet. Namora steps in close and then taps your elbows.

“Up.” She orders a third time, only now she seems to be referring specifically to your arms. You follow her instruction, raising them awkwardly out in front of your body. You can almost hear the sigh of hopelessness when Namora, her brow furrowed, grabs your arms and positions each one in a fighting stance. Slipping a hand up to your left wrist, she grips it firmly while tapping your exposed forearm with the palm of her other hand.

“Shield.” She says with emphasis. Her eyebrows raise, looking for any indication that you comprehend what she is trying to explain. When you nod, Namora moves her hand from your wrist up to your fingers, balling them into a fist and tucking your thumb on the outside.

“Weapon.”

Namora then steps back from you, putting her own arms up to mirror your stance.

“Shield, weapon,” she repeats, patting her forearm and waving her closed fist.

“Shield, weapon,” you echo back to her, nodding your head again as you begin to understand more fully.

Just as she begins to step back toward you, a deep voice calls from behind.

“Namora.”

You both look up to see the large man who wears the hammerhead skull standing in the entry of the cavern. Attuma is his name, as you have come to learn. Namora straightens her posture as she turns to face him, her hands behind her back as she squares her shoulders in a commanding stance.

Attuma saunters a few more feet into the cavern, then speaks to her in their native tongue, a language still unfamiliar to you. The two of them converse back and forth for a few moments. You may not know what they are saying, but you can tell they disagree about something — whether with each other or someone else, you are not sure.

Namora swiftly turns back to you, her face serious again and her brows pinched together.

Fighting lessons must be over.

“Come,” she says.

Without any further instruction, she pivots back toward Attuma, who also turns to leave. You quickly grab your belongings which Namora had folded for you, stuffing them into your bag. You sling it around your shoulder as you exit the cavern.

Following the two generals into a tunneled hallway, you find yourself moving through a network of caves, each tunnel connecting to a series of other openings and pools. Soon, Attuma splits off into one of these open caverns, nodding to Namora as he does so. Your eyes trail him as he joins with more Talokan warriors, and just as you stare at them, they stare at you.

You continue walking behind Namora past them, their whispers reverberating through the tunnels.

“When was the last time someone… not Talokanil came here?” You ask. In typical Namora fashion, she remains silent and unresponsive to your question.

“Sorry,” you say apologetically, “back there it just seemed like they hadn’t seen someone new in a while.”

The two of you walk, furthering yourself from the turnoff where Attuma parted ways. Cautiously, you step around the uneven surfaces of the rocky ground. You can feel yourself being led deeper into the maze of caverns. If Namora decided to up and ditch you right now, you are certain you would be lost in this labyrinth forever.

“You are the first,” Namora says rather abruptly, catching you off guard. Not only does her response come well after your question was asked, but it is also the most she has ever said to you at one given time.

“The first?” You ask, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“To come here,” Namora answers. “The first surface dweller to receive Talokan’s aid. The first the king has ever…” she pauses a moment, searching for the right word, “tolerated.”

The influx of her voice is not lost on you.

“And you don’t approve?”

“It is not my place to approve, " Namora clarifies as she leads you around a bend and past several open pools of water. "I am… concerned. When it comes to you, I fear he is blind.”

Silence befalls you both again as you enter another cavern, this one much larger and more spacious than any others you have seen. Within it are several large pools, glistening with light reflected from more glow worms above. Their tendrils hang from the high vaulted ceiling like sparkling chandeliers.

In the center of it all stands a large hut enclosed by beautifully woven fabrics. You follow Namora shoulder to shoulder up the stone-carved steps to it until you nearly reach the side.

“We’re here,” Namora says, coming to a dead stop. She then takes a step back from you.

Still unsure of where “here” is exactly, you glance over your shoulder, looking to her for further instruction or explanation. But Namora gives you nothing. The moment you begin to take a step backward as well, her hand shoots out, holding the back of your shoulder in position with a firm grip.

Ah. Don't move. Got it.

Subconsciously you begin to hold your breath, bracing yourself for the unknown.

Then, there he is.

From around the corner of the hut comes Namor. Immediately you are taken aback by his appearance. Up to this point, you have only seen him suited for battle. Now he stands before you dawning a beautifully woven cape plated with gold and draped across his broad shoulders. His hair is slicked back and his arms are adorned with various metal cuffs. Truly a wardrobe fit for a king.

A single nod of his head and Namora is dismissed. You hear her small footsteps fade as she leaves the two of you alone.

“How is your hand?”

Namor’s question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you raise your hand, glancing at the worn bandage. "It’s fine, thank you.”

Staring at the gauze, you can almost hear the lullaby Namor hummed as he gently tended to your wounded palm the night of the battle. Something flutters inside you as you touch the corner of the fabric. Realizing your mind has drifted again, you bring yourself back to reality by following up with your own question.

"Are we in..." you stop to rephrase, shifting your weight from side to side as you look around the cavern, “Is this… Talokan?"

If it is, it's very different from what you pictured.

Your question brings a smile to Namor’s face.

"No," he answers with a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Talokan is far beyond this place. I assure you, your body would not survive the journey to its depths. But these caverns are safe, I promise you.”

Namor then shifts the topic of conversation.

“I am told some of your belongings were ruined on your traveling here, including your book. I apologize. I had hoped to make up for it.”

With one arm, Namor ushers you around the corner to the entrance of his quarters, inviting you inside.

Intrigued and eager to see what awaits, you accept his invitation. As you enter, you find yourself in a study of sorts. Lit by several lanterns, the room is warm and bright. Within it sits a small table, a prominent desk full of scrolls and artifacts, and a cozy hammock hung in the corner. But what catches your eye most of all are the walls.

All around you hang gorgeous tapestry walls with breathtaking murals that stretch from floor to ceiling.

“Did you do all of these?” You ask in disbelief as you move to one at the far end of the room. Your eyes widen as you gaze in admiration at the beautiful artistry.

“Yes,” Namor answers humbly, following behind you. “I think you will find a more accurate depiction of my history here.”

“I don’t know,” you say with playful skepticism in your voice as you inspect the artwork closer, “always be weary of your authors, right?” You smirk as you shift your glance sideways to Namor, echoing his words back to him in jest. His face is serious at first but quickly turns to amusement.

“You remembered,” he says nodding his head, an impressed grin now stretching at the corners of his mouth, “that is good.”

You return your attention to the paintings. What a gift it is to be standing here in front of them. Full of stories, full of history. And to be accompanied by the man who created them himself — who lived them himself. It is all a far cry from the vague glyphs you tried so hard to decipher in your book.

"They're amazing." You say in awe, following along the panels as you trace the line work delicately with your fingertip.

Immersed in the murals, you are too busy to notice Namor's softening gaze as he watches you study his work so intently. Here you are, an outsider who he has welcomed into his space. It is not like him to be so open, especially not with a stranger from the surface — never someone from the surface — yet, something about you causes a stirring inside of him. Perhaps it is your enthusiasm and wonders for his culture or your refreshing dose of humanity towards his people that compels his desire to be close to you.

As you follow the artwork from panel to panel across the walls, you arrive at a scene that suddenly makes you freeze. Your wrist snaps your finger back as if repelled by the paint itself. In front of you is a large image of Namor dawning a serpent headpiece as he hovers above the water. You are immediately back in your nightmare, your mind flashing to Namor’s outstretched hand then the darkness that closes in around you as you start to drown. You can almost feel the fire in your lungs as they grow desperate for air.

“What troubles you?” Namor asks with genuine traces of concern in his voice. Your sudden silence has not gone unnoticed. He moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, looking up to analyze the same part of the mural.

"Nothing," you lie, shaking your head while your hand drops to your side. You withdraw from the painting, taking a few steps back from it and Namor.

“Your people," you say to change the subject, pointing your thumb to the rest of the artwork in the room, "they honor you. It's admirable, what you've done for them. To keep them safe all this time."

“But?” He senses there is more on your mind.

You stare at him, then turn your focus back to the tapestries surrounding you. Scanning them from wall to wall, you notice a pattern in the stories shown.

“It’s just,” you begin with uncertainty in your voice “for someone who has spent his whole life bringing peace to his people, I wonder how much of it you have experienced for yourself?”

Namor is quiet for a moment.

"And why do you wonder this?" He finally replies, turning to face you fully.

“I guess I look at these and I’m curious… how? How can you do that without completely breaking under the weight of it all? Even with—” you begin gesturing to his body and suddenly become desperate to come up with the right words in time, “superhuman strength.” Thank god.

“Hmmm,” Namor exhales, thoughtfully nodding as his gaze drops to the floor. He folds his arms over his chest, the golden band around his exposed bicep reflecting the light that softly glows from a nearby lantern. Taking a few steps toward you, he lifts his eyes to yours.

“It is true,” he says, “the burden I carry for the sake of my people does not always permit me the personal luxury of peace. It… can be difficult.” His tone shifts from diplomatic to vulnerable. “And who is to say I have not broken under it? It is that brokenness that has made me the leader I am.”

Turning his head toward the mural, he looks at it carefully before speaking again. His chiseled jawline accentuates the exposed veins protruding from his neck.

"To your question,” he continues, “I believe how is never as important as why. Why would someone fight to bring others peace when they themselves cannot have it?” Namor takes another step closer and lifts his hand to your chin, delicately angling your face upward toward his own. "Because we sacrifice to protect what we love.”

His eyes search yours earnestly. After a moment, Namor quickly drops his hand from your chin and you watch as he moves towards his desk, shuffling a few scrolls around before looking back up at you again.  

“I love my people,” he says, planting his hand firmly on the desk, “and I have seen evil, what it is capable of. I watch as the rest of the world grows desperate in their greed and ambition, their desire for power. They are becoming more dangerous by the day."

"You mean — surface dwellers?" You ask.

Namor raises his brow at you knowingly.

"Yes,” he answers cooly.

"I'm a surface dweller. Am I...dangerous?"

Namor sighs with a small smile.

“Yes. Though not in the way you may think.”

He moves from out behind his desk and back over in your direction.

“Now I have a question for you,” he says in a low voice, approaching you with a dark look looming over his face. “Please consider your answer carefully.”

The silence is intense. Your heart feels like it is going to jump out of your throat as you anticipate what damning question the king of Talokan has in store for you.

Namor’s expression changes on a dime, and he suddenly asks in a lighthearted tone,

“Are you up for a swim?”

—

You follow Namor out of his quarters and into the large open cavern. As you pass by several beautiful pools of water, you are enchanted by how the light dances across the rich tones of Namor's skin. The same light casts dazzling hues of aquamarine and cerulean across the surface of the pools, reflected onto the rocks surrounding them.

Namor approaches one of the bigger pools and removes the cape from his shoulder, exposing his bare chest underneath. Here is the Namor you recognize - prominent necklace, bare chest,  emerald green shorts. Before dropping his cape to the ground, however, he pulls out a Talokan mask from the fabric like the ones Namora and the other warriors wear.

“Take a deep breath,” Namor says as he turns to you. He pushes your hair back from your cheek delicately as he applies the apparatus to your face. Doing as you are told, you inhale deeply as the mask fastens over your nose and mouth.

“Stay close,” he instructs. You nod, and Namor steps to the edge of the closest pool. He looks back at you with a hint of a smile on his face. Then, with all the strength and grace of a god, he dives perfectly into the water and disappears under the surface.

You step closer to the pool. The faint rhythm of droplets falling from the ceiling rings throughout the cavern. You glance behind you toward the entrance, but there isn't a soul in sight. Namora’s words echo through your mind.

When it comes to you, he is blind.

You dive in, following Namor.

Once in the water, you quickly orient yourself. Looking around, you see the outline of Namor, his silhouette waiting for you in the distance. As you swim closer, he gestures for you to follow him. You kick your feet to propel yourself further downward, ears popping as you equalize to the increasing pressure.

You swim until you are clear of the caves. Though your muscles ache, there is something serene about being beneath the water; the quiet, the weightlessness, everything drifting harmoniously in rhythm with the current. For the first time since you can remember, your mind feels still. Free from the chaos. Somehow, the vast open sea does not frighten you with its deep blue void as it did in your dream. Not even a little. Instead, you feel a calmness in your soul as you lose track of time entirely, trailing Namor as you move through the ocean’s depths.

Quite literally in his element, you watch in awe as Namor swims so effortlessly. To him, it must be as easy as breathing. He looks more relaxed than you have seen him. Perhaps even enjoying himself?

You continue to swim, the water getting lighter as the visibility becomes clearer. A school of fish rushes past, their scales glimmering with each flick of a fin or contour of their bodies. Countless numbers weave around you in sync as if part of the same carefully choreographed ballet. You can’t help but smile as you watch them move so freely, and Namor can't help but smile as he watches you.

Suddenly the fish rapidly disperse and within seconds a huge mass flashes past you with incredible speed and agility. Your eyes widen and adrenaline rushes through you as you witness a killer whale chase the school, its size completely dwarfing your mere human frame. Involuntarily, you begin hyperventilating as you watch the giant creature swim off into the distance. When you feel a touch against your arm, you turn to find Namor next to you. His hand rises and falls in front of his torso, gesturing for you to take deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

The two of you remain suspended in the endless ocean blue as you your breath slows and your muscles recover. Namor looks upward, and as you savor the moment of rest you follow his gaze. You can tell by the light above that you are getting close to the surface, which must mean you are nearing your destination. When he nods, you know it is time to move. Slowly the two of you start your ascent and the ocean becomes warmer as you gradually near the top.

When you arise from the water, the sound of the rushing wind, the rolling waves, and birds flying overhead rush into your ears. Less than a hundred meters from you stretches a beautiful coastline covered in soft white sand and lined by rich green foliage.

You make your way towards it. Soon you are walking knee-deep in the waves, the tide splashing against the back of your legs as you near the shore. Removing the mask from your face, the sweet breeze of the island races by, rustling your wet hair and filling your nostrils with the earthy aroma of some nearby palm trees.

Namor has already reached the sand. He stands tall, water still running down his body. Staring out at the horizon, he runs his hand over his face and pushes his hair back, inadvertently flexing his bicep as he does so. The sun slowly begins its descent toward the Earth, its warm rays casting brilliant tones of red and orange across Namor’s exposed skin. It contrasts the deep blues and greens that illuminated him in the caverns, and at this point, you are confident he looks devastatingly beautiful in any light.

As you reach the shore, you take your place next to him and stare out at the skyline.

“Hard to beat a view like that,” you say breathlessly.

“My mother would always describe to me the beauty of the setting sun,” Namor responds. “I have no love for the surface world, but from time to time I visit this island. See what she saw.”

“Is this—?” You begin to ask.

“Where she is buried.” Namor answers before you finish your question. His eyes drop as he reflects, “I am not sure what I expected to see the day I came to lay her body to rest. I suppose the beauty of an island she spoke of so fondly. Instead, I found my brothers and sisters enslaved by men who took life without a second thought.” His jaw clenches as he recalls the bitter memory. “But I saw to it the favor was returned.”

His meaning is clear. You are not sure which makes you more nervous — the calm and cool way he says it, or the menacing smile that accompanies his statement. Either way, his smile disappears as quickly as it comes. You have seen Namor’s ferocity firsthand and know what he is capable of, especially when it comes to protecting his people. A nervous feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as you begin questioning his purpose in bringing you here.

You consider the facts:

You are a surface dweller.

He did call you dangerous.

Oh shit.

Anxiously you glance at him, then redirect your gaze back to the horizon to maintain your composure. The soft waves break along the shore, racing up to your ankles. As the sand beneath your feet gets pulled out by the tide, you wish with all your might you could be pulled away with it. Instead, you sink deeper into the ground, more immovable than before.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words come out blunter than you intend, but you stand by them despite the quiver in your voice.

The question pulls Namor out of his thoughts as he turns to you, eyebrows raised. He studies your face carefully before answering.

“I probably should," he says. There is no malice in his words, only honesty. “The knowledge you have of me and my people... it puts me in a difficult position.” His eyes are solemn. "But I have lived a long time, and in that time I have witnessed many in their final moments before death when one truly reveals themself. That night on the beach, in what you believed were your final moments, you kept your word to me and my people. You said nothing to those men, even with your life on the line. There is no truer test of loyalty.”

Without a word, he reaches his hand out for the mask you still carry. You cautiously hand it over.

"There is a village eastward,” Namor continues, “you will find everything you need there, and the means to leave this place."

You feel his palm slip under your fingers to receive the mask. He takes a deep breath, then purses his lips in the direction behind you.

“Or, just up the way beyond those trees is a house. It is not much, but comfortable. It is yours to use... if you wish. You would be safe here.”

The offer catches you off guard.

“I… I don't understand." You mutter in slight confusion.

With a deep inhale, Namor squints back at the setting sun to collect his thoughts. Then, taking another step closer, he eliminates virtually any remaining space between you. His eyes are deep and mesmerizing as ever. Your heart races from his sudden proximity and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to speak again. He peers down at you, so impossibly close that you can sense the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"You are no enemy of mine," he says with authority, "and no prisoner of Talokan. You have my trust. And because of that trust, I will not order you to stay." Namor then drops the mask into the sand like it is worthless and gently slides his hands underneath your jawline, cradling your face in both of his palms. “But I am asking you to.”

You are speechless. The way he is holding your gaze, the tenderness of his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek, the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"Stay," Namor says fervently in one final clarifying word. It is not a command, but an invitation. Perhaps even a plea. But most importantly, it is a choice. Your choice.

His eyes quickly dart back up to yours as he awaits an answer, but even Namor is not strong enough to keep his attention from dropping back down to your lips. He is clearly focused on more than just the words he hopes to hear come out of them.

In an overwhelming wave of boldness, you allow instinct to take over. No lives at stake, no siren’s song  — it is only the burning desire within your very soul for him that compels you. You close your eyes and melt into Namor’s touch, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you do so, it is as if a surge of energy courses through your veins, electrifying your entire body. Namor immediately welcomes your advance, molding his lips to your own. The smooth piece of jade that pierces his septum presses cooly above your lip, contrasting the heat of his skin to ignite your senses. As he slides a hand around to the back of your neck, his fingers curl into your hair to bring you in even closer.

A small moan escapes you as the tip of his tongue traces along your bottom lip. You can feel his smile against your mouth, then a tug at the same lip with his teeth. Another invitation, to which you gladly accept. You part your mouth open to let Namor inside. Both of your tongues dance together as your kisses become deeper and more indulgent.

Consumed by his taste and his touch, you slide your hands up his bare chest, desperate for more of him. Without missing a beat, Namor responds by running his arms down your body and hoisting you up off the sand with ease. You wrap your legs around him tightly and take full advantage of this new, higher angle. Moving your mouth in tandem with his, you savor the richness of his lips and entangling your fingers in his dark locks of hair. 

The two of you ebb and flow just like the rolling ocean waves, losing yourselves in each other. It’s not until you feel a faint burning in your lungs that you face the harsh reality of having to break away for air. Everything inside you fights it. If Namor were the sea, you would gladly let yourself drown in this moment.

But Namor, also sensing your need for oxygen, begins to slow down. He lowers you gently to the ground, though he is careful not to let you slip too far away from him. The two of you breathe heavily as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Namor gives you another passionate kiss, this one slow and deep. His lips then move to the corner of your mouth and trail up to your ear, the heat of his breath spreading like wildfire across your skin. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Holding you close, Namor leans his forehead against your temple and presses his lips against your ear.

“Please," he whispers. "Stay with me.”

--------

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[simplepotatofarmer]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Alienation & Spite

tuesday morning, 8:47 a.m.

characters: technoblade, dream word count: 1,541

I've been in this room before.

The last time, ages ago, it was brief. Techno had practically rushed me out after ringing the bell a few times. That felt like something that had to be done, some stupid ritual that you signed up for the moment you stepped into the cabin. He had come back, a little later, and made sure I wasn't watching as he opened the secret chest in the back of the room.

I knew where it was. I could go over right now and open the chest and take whatever the hell I wanted and Techno wouldn't stop me. It wasn't a secret anymore and that felt...

It felt shitty for no reason. Of course he didn't bother hiding those things anymore. I've been living in his house for months, what was there to hide? But fuck man. He could at least pretend things were normal.

Ugh.

Rolling over, I shoved one of the pillows into my face and resisted the urge to scream. If I did, Techno would hear. He would climb up the ladder and ask if everything was alright and I would lie. I should feel bad for lying; I know he's trying to help but I don't want help, I want to be left alone.

It's easier. No one gets that. No one understands that everything still hurts or that I feel wrong without a potion or that food makes me want to vomit or that I don't want to leave the cabin. I don't even want to leave the room.

Techno calls it wallowing. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don't care.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the sunlight reflecting off the bell and block of emerald. Something about that makes me angry. I've been angry a lot, I guess. It knots in my chest and I want to tear it out. I want to punch something. I want to punch myself. I settle for dragging my nails against my skin until its red and stings. It doesn't calm the anger that's making my eyes water. Without thinking, I throw the pillow across the room, at the bell.

It makes a low chiming sound and I groan.

As expected, a few moments later, Techno pokes his head up, arms resting on the floor. He's worried. I tug my sleeves down over my arms, hiding the scratches. Not that Techno would be mad. That's the problem. He'd understand. He'd say it's okay and it's not.

"Hey, Dream. You rang?"

It was funny and I have to fight the smile.

"No. That—That was an accident."

His eyes slide towards the bell and sees the pillow on the ground.

"Ah."

I don't say anything.

"How about you come downstairs, man? I'll make you some breakfast."

I still don't say anything. I stare at the ceiling.

"C'mon on man."

He talks so softly, the same way he does to his animals and it's another thing I want to be pissed about except I've heard him use the same tone with Phil, with Ranboo or Niki.

So stupid.

I want things to be normal but it is and I'm still mad.

"I'm not hungry," I lie. I'm starving. I want a potion.

"Alright." Techno reaches out and tugs the blanket up over me. He's stretching precariously. "How about we make a deal? I'll leave you alone for a bit but you've gotta promise to come down for dinner."

His words hang in the air a bit and I roll my eyes.

"Or what?"

Techno laughs.

"Or I'll carry your scrawny behind downstairs my dang self," he says.

I believe him.

"God. Fine, Techno."

He laughs again.

“See ya later, Dream.”

His head disappears back downstairs. Already I regret agreeing to his stupid deal. He won’t actually drag me downstairs if I change my mind, I know that. I roll over the other way, facing the ladder. On the bedside table is a bottle of water and Techno’s communicator. Mine is gone and has been since Sam took it. I reach over and grab Techno’s. It’s only 8:47 a.m. Dinner is a long way off.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I’m worried.

It’s kinda hard not to be worried when you have a man in your bedroom who’ll barely move and barely eat. I don’t mind. Well, I do, just not in the way Dream thinks I do. He thinks I want him out, gone out of my life. I had to fight against his idiotic plan to fake a parting of ways while we were in prison. The only thing I want is—

It’s lame, chat, I know.

I want him to be okay. The first few weeks, he hardly moved because he couldn’t. He wasn’t in any kind of shape. The thought of what happened to him in that cell after I left haunts me. How can you make up for that?

I pull the raw beef out of the ice chest. A good steak is a start. I wouldn’t have made something that required so much chewing a couple months ago but Dream’s jaw had healed. And I know he’s a steak man when he’s not relying on potions or golden apples. I’ve caught him sneaking both after days of refusing food.

Fighting the urge to keep walking over to stand at the bottom of the ladder is the hardest part. I want to go back up and check on him again. He had been quick at pulling his sleeves down but I saw the marks on his arms. If I had said something, it might have made him withdraw even more.

I’ll make him a cake.

I have no idea if he’ll eat it but he might. It’s something to occupy my time and something to do to show him I care. He knows, he’s gotta know by this point but sometimes he lays there like he doesn’t know anything anymore. I don’t blame him. He has that lost look in his eyes every so often and I know he’s pulling away because it’s easier.

I know, I’ve been there. This cabin was built to get away from everything. It took some time to realize I was being a fool. Dream will get there, I’ve got faith in him. He’s been through a lot and he still smiles sometimes.

I’m on autopilot baking. Niki’s recipe is well-worn by this point and I don’t need to have it sitting out but that’s habit, too. It’s a nice reminder. By the time the cake is in the oven, the sun is midpoint in the sky. The beef’s been marinating for awhile. I glance towards the living room and sigh.

Just a quick check, I won’t even go up the ladder.

Standing at the base, I can’t hear anything. That’s probably a good sign. Hopefully, he’s sleeping. Sleep hasn’t been easy for him which means it’s not been great for me, either, and I can sleep through a lot. Except the person next to me lashing out or screaming. It hurts. Not the times he’s hit me on accident but hearing a friend say ‘no’ and ‘please’ and ‘stop’ over and over.

I’ve gotta stop thinking about it. I know Dream’s picked up on my worry and I know sometimes it makes him feel weird. I get it, I do.

By the time the cake is cooled and has a nice layer of green frosting on it, the steaks are also done and the sun is lower in the sky. I pat my pockets, looking for my communicator to check the time, but I must’ve misplaced it again. I make another mental reminder to put a clock somewhere and head over to the ladder.

Dream is pretending to sleep, I can tell.

“Dinner time.”

He opens one eye. I smile. He opens the other and sighs as he props himself up.

“I’m—I’m not hungry.”

It’s the same thing as earlier and it’s still a lie, I know it. I raise an eyebrow and look at him silently. After a moment, a slight tinge of pink is on his cheeks.

Got ‘em.

“Ugh, fine,” he says as he swings his legs out of bed. “You’re so annoying.”

“I know, Dream, I know.” I slide down the ladder and wait for him. When he climbs down, I put my hand out, hovering near his back, just in case. “I’ve made you a real special dinner.”

“What? Why?”

I stop in front of the kitchen table. Some of the icing on the cake has melted a bit but the steaks look good. Dream is next to me. He looks confused. He looks sad. I put my arm around his shoulders. They still feel awfully boney.

“Because it’s your four month anniversary of stayin’ here, man. We’ve gotta celebrate.”

Dream’s voice rises in pitch.

“What?”

I know that tone. He’s struggling not to smile and rolling his eyes. I nudge my nose against the side of his head and pull him a little closer. He doesn’t pull away.

“We’re celebratin’, Dream. I even made you a cake.”

“This is so stupid,” he says but he’s leaning against me and I wrap my arms around him and hug him.

“Let’s eat.”

@sixteenth-day-event

[yorshie]

Hi there 😊 I saw ur request opened and wanted to see if I could request reader having a nightmare and they call the turtles (or one of them) in the middle of the night bc they’re too panicked and they try to help calm them down maybe over the phone or go to their place to help! Sorry for the long ask haha Thank you!!

Hello Nonnie! I'm finally (slowly. so painfully slowly) cleaning out my ask box and replying lol. I went with Leo for this one, simply because when I started writing his name just kinda popped up naturally.

Bayverse Leonardo x GN Reader, SFW

The whir of the ceiling fan woke you up. 

It was usually a comforting sound, but now, with the press of adrenaline against your chest and the echoes of the dream clinging to your skin like a fine sheen of oil, the creak of the paddles spinning overhead read as a threat to your muddled mind. 

You pulled the covers back, feet finding the cold floor and bringing a new shiver that informed you of the layer of sweat behind your knees, at your elbows, making your shirt stick to your spine in crinkly ridges where you’d tossed through the dream. Your heartbeat pounded at your temples, your jaw, relentless as it told you you had to run, had to hide, had to go.

The clock on your bedside table read 3:14 am. Too early to get up, to eat food to soothe the latent fear still in your stomach. But superstition had you moving, padding into the kitchen to pull a tortilla from the package left on the counter. You rolled the piece of bread up and shoved it halfway into your mouth, stopping at the bathroom on your way back to the warmth of the bed. 

The reflection greeting you over the mirror after you did your business looked sane, looked normal. Nothing to indicate the nightmare still haunted you, still peered over your shoulder, just waiting for you to fall back to sleep. You didn’t feel the phantom clawed hands reaching for your shoulders until your back hit the mattress, tortilla still shoved in one cheek, and the spinning ceiling fan was there once more to greet you.

You squinted, watching the paddles in the low light from the window. The dream was starting to fade, but it lingered like the curling, tacky edges of the vinyl tabletops in an old diner. Waiting to leave just a little residual glue on your skin, to follow you around.

You glanced at the clock again, contemplated staying up until the sun rose and could blanket out the hushed magic of the early morning, when your eyes snagged on your phone, lying crooked and part way in the opened drawer where it usually charged.

Your fingers found the familiar edges, pulled it across the bed towards you. There was a new message, from Blue, about thirty minutes ago. The notification extended a lifeline, a buoy to hold onto while the frigid waters of the dream still lapped at your consciousness.

Your thumb tapped the screen, slid open the message. 

He was home from patrol, wanted to let you know everything was fine, that he and his brothers had gotten home safe. The balloon of unnamed fear deflated just a touch in your chest, the unknown fear in the heartbeat at your temples tripping up in its terror before lessening just a touch. Like a ship sighted in a storm, you stared at the little blue heart attached to the last message, a wish for you to sleep well.

Without thinking, you hit the call button, bringing the device to the cradle of your ear and shoulder. The rings stretched out in front of you, one after another. You could almost imagine the boat getting further away, the line of safety attached to the buoy growing taunt…

“Hello?” Leo’s voice, soft and questioning on your name, like a light cascading from the boat, finding you immediately in the dark. His voice was a halo of safety as the captain turned the rudder and you were pulled in.

“Leo?” You confirmed, childishly, knowing his voice, but needing the confirmation to yourself as much as to let him know you were there. “Sorry, I uh, saw your message… had a bit of a nightmare, wanted to talk to you if that’s ok?”

And because it was Leo, because he never really stopped worrying,  he answered immediately, tone dipping a bit as he used the voice that meant he was processing intel. “Of course, are you ok? Do you need to talk about it?”

The concern, him using the ‘leader’ voice on you, brought a reflexive smile to your face. If you asked him, he’d be there in ten minutes, you knew, regardless if he was technically supposed to or not. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I promise. I just… needed to hear your voice.”

Leo exhaled, the sound a little staticy over the line, and you could almost picture the relief sliding the concern off his shoulders. “Do you need me to come to you?”

Heart in your throat, you let yourself have the imagined fantasy. His shadow at your window, his scales pressed up against your skin, entangled in the too small bed with you. His hands running through your hair, simply existing for a moment. 

But with that fantasy came the little bubble of reality. The way he’d watch the horizon, the gaps between the buildings outside your window for the first flicker of light. Always on a timetable, like Cinderella and her pumpkin coach, on the lookout for the danger of traveling back to the Lair with the sun always encroaching.

Reeling in the selfish desire, you spoke low, just for him. “No, I’m ok, it’s almost four already.” You rolled the tortilla to the other cheek, took another bite.

Leo must have heard the sound, because he chuckled softly. “Do you have a tortilla stuffed in your mouth right now?”

“Grandma’s superstition wearing off on me, I’m afraid.” You told him, honest, not fearing judgment from the turtle you’d gladly call your best friend.

“I like her recipe you made last summer, with the peppers and cheese.” He admitted, and you heard his words echo just a touch when he placed you on speaker, followed by the rustle of clothes and a long sigh. You knew what he was doing, getting ready for bed, likely folding his pants. You could close your eyes and imagine yourself there with him, beside him in his bed, maybe back against his headboard while he laid on his plastron, one arm hooked around your waist and a pillow half over your lap for his head…

“I’ll make it for you again this weekend, if you’d like.” You offered, letting the imagined scenarios soothe you, letting the lull of Leonardo wash away the tacky residue of the dream. You breathed in deeply, listening to him hum low on the other end of the phone. 

“Deal.” Leo agreed, and you just knew he was smiling in the dark of his room. Maybe that little dimple at the corner of his mouth was showing, maybe…

“Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked, voice soft, so soft. 

You murmured dissent, but he still chuckled, breath hitting the receiver once more in a familiar way. “Take the tortilla out of your mouth at least, darling. Text me when you wake up, alright?”

You murmured agreement, swallowing the last bite of gummy flatbread thickly. The waves rocked you gently, a tide of Leo’s even breaths in your ear, the mantra of his lungs working as a leading drum for your heartbeat to slow to. 

Before you dropped off, comforted in the buoy of your mind tied to safety, Leonardo murmured over the phone, “Love you, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

[choccy-zefirka]

What remains of the cultists, has been cleaned up by now. Bodies, carted off and burned. Robes, collected to be unseamed and reused — morbid, yes, Jaheira was first to admit that. But the fabric is good, higher quality than a lot of the Harpers' refugee charges have seen in a lifetime. And warm, too, crafted to withstand the marrow-gnawing cold of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Even though the first specks of green are already starting to bud on the dessicated tree branches, the darkness will take a while to abate — and the children need blankets, now. Better over-the-top black blankets adorned with the symbol of the Absolute than none at all.

The cleanup has not been complete, though. There is still a sticky red residue caked all over the echoing stone halls, where the Absolute's worshippers once gathered and where their former captives have now made camp, free and ready to move on, once the Harper scouts confirm that the road is clear. There are still dark splatters, marking so many spots where the enemy fell. Reminders of hoe Lae'Zel's blade traced a squelching curve through a cultist's torso; or how Gale's lightning danced, from one lump of charred flesh to the next; or how Astarion leaped from the shadows, ripped into a tender, delicious throat, and withdrew again, smiling.

Niamh has made herself quite busy washing those markings off. She stands in the middle of one room after another, raises her wiry yellow arms to the ceiling, and then brings them down with an almost audible "Whoosh!". The gesture creates a thick, turquoise-tinged cloud, which hangs low for a split second, brushing its downy underside against the furniture, and then erupts into a stream of indoor rain.

Next, Niamh twirls her wrist and closes her fist, as if wringing an invisible towel. The summoned water evaporates, leaving the stone floor impeccably clean, reflective as a giant looking-glass. In its grey depths, an upside-down Niamh strides to the next splash of dried-up gore, while an upside-down Shadowheart watches her, wondering.

"Why all the effort?" she asks at last. "We will be leaving the place soon. And I am certain it will gather more grime ten times over before new tenants dare move in."

Niamh looks up from her work. Her pale eyes are huge and sincere as always. So unlike the steely glare you would commonly expect from a Githyanki — yet at this point, enough to move even Lae'Zel.

"The spell keeps me distracted," she explains.

Shadowheart responds with a soft "Hm".

For a while afterwards, the two women — Half-Elf and Githyanki, once strangers and now something very dangerously resembling friends — hold each other's gaze without another word. Within the long silence between them, someone who knows what they know, might hear the slithering whispers of Justiciars past in the Nightsong's prison, the torturous screech of the zaith'isk, the slosh of corrosive brine around the emerging Elder Brain. Far too much for a mortal mind to endure — without distraction.

And so Shadowheart understands. Still not saying anything, she joins Niamh in her calming routine. Create Water, Destroy Water. Rinse and repeat. Until the bloodied walls are washed cleaner than their hands and memories will ever be.

They are interrupted only by the soft beat of giant wings. Shadowheart flinches, still a touch unsettled by the sound. By the meaning that it carries. Niamh stops casting and tries to comfort her with a smile — again, without a word, yet with all the understanding.

This makes it easier to face their visitor.

Dame Aylin towers over them both, even the lanky Niamh: shoulders spread wide and strong, wings casting an opalescent glow over her polished armor. But just like the hallways of these battle-scarred towers, the glossy surface is marred with a streak of blood. Not her own, though: she is carrying someone in her arms. Sagging, heavy; horned head thrown back and tail hanging limp.

Niamh stumbles closer. Her pupils shrink in shock, taking in the familiar jagged cheekbones; the worry-lined face, now drained to a terribly, terribly wrong, desaturated shade of red; the blood-soaked light-brown hair. Her hand reaches for her throat, where the cry of recognition is trapped and twisted, crumbling into a hoarse ashy sob.

"Zevlor..."

"Verily, I pulled him from beneath a carpet of intellect devourers," Aylin announces. "He had goaded them into attacking him in the stead of a fleeing injured Fist. Oh, by my mother's milk, what a sight it was! What carnage of lacerating claws, what sizzling bite of foul psionics!"

Niamh's lips begin to tremble. Aylin's enthusiasm is clearly not contagious.

The knight catches the panicked look in her eyes, and corrects herself — perhaps after mentally asking, "What would Isobel say?"

"Lo, friends," she continues, much more somberly, as she floats across the freshly washed room and lays Zevlor down on the nearest desk.

Niamh nigh-on leaps to her side, followed by Shadowheart. Good thing, too: she might need someone to lean on. She watches the Tiefling twitch under Aylin's hands while she wrestles him free of his charred armor — and her knees almost buckle when she sees the ripped-up plough marks of his wounds.

He mutters something in snatches of words — mangled, panicked, collapsing onto themselves. But his eyes do not open, and his breaths are so ragged that you'd think his chest is covered on the inside with briars.

"You would do well to work your best healing magics," Aylin finishes. "For I fear the dark lair's filth may have left the wounds infected."

"You might be right," says Shadowheart. "Zevlor is clearly delirious."

"WHAT?!"

A sudden cry rings out — a burst of outrage from another onlooker, whom Niamh never noticed, either as a reflection, or in person.

"FUCKING ZEVLOR?!"

A young Tiefling skids across the damp floor, coming face to face with Aylin. His nostrils are quivering; his fists are balled into veiny lumps of fury.

Niamh shoots a wide-eyed glance at Shadowheart.

Zorru! They recognize him, from all the way back in the Grove... And yet, they also do not.

He is such a far cry from the fumbling, terrified boy who so easily dropped to his knees before Lae'Zel. These lands' shadow clings on to him, painting over his features in new, stark, hardened lines.

There is still fear in his eyes. Perhaps it will remain there forever, curling around his pupils by day and bursting free at night, erupting into nightmares of blood and guts, of friends' faces turned to contorted death masks, of the arms that once hugged him, snapped like dry tree branches in the final throes of agony. But his knees do not bend now.

"How dare you! How dare you!" he spits at Aylin — vaguely bemused, vaguely impressed — even as he trembles all over. "Most of us are gone now, and instead of bringing back survivors, you bring him! The bastard who did it to us! It's all his fault — all his fault!"

"You are not wrong, Zorru. But it's also more complicated than that," Niamh speaks up, in her most persuasive tone.

Her eyes are not exactly dry, and her hand is clawing at the edge of the desk Zevlor rests on... But her voice is steady. She has collected herself after her initial shock, and stands perfectly straight now — also a far cry from the lost druid apprentice, who groveled and apologized at every turn. For travelling with disagreeable companions. For being born a Githyanki, for being raised outside her people's creche. For... Existing in general.

"If your people agree to leave him be, I will take him with me. Whether he — " for a second, her voice does falter, but she pushes down the lump in her throat, determined to remain firm. "Whether he lives or dies, whether he chooses to join me as a companion or goes his own way, you will never see him again."

"Oh, we certainly don't want to," Zorru scowls — relenting.

"Very well," says Niamh. "Aylin, would you mind fetching Halsin and Isobel? We will need everyone for a prayer of healing."

Zevlor is trapped. Held in place by fleshy tendrils, bulging and covered in swollen lumps, oozing, dripping something warm, something cloying with rotten sweetness. They snake up his legs, glueing them together; they tip-tap up his back, every touch a shudder, and loop around his throat. They push into his mouth, deeper and deeper with each attempt to scream. They run along his temples, melting into one with his madly thrashing veins, and branch out with a sickly crackle when they reach the corners of his eyes... Propping his eyelids wide open.

Unable to blink, drowning in scorching tears, he has no choice but to look ahead. Into restless darkness, which keeps swirling, ever swirling into sickening spirals, like ink stirred in an inkwell.

Time and again, it recedes, rolls away in oily droplets, revealing the same scene, from different angles.

Sometimes, he can see it up close, making out the ruby sparks that still quiver on a dead girl's eyelashes ��� or sometimes, the view pans out, and he has to take in the entire the road where the cultists attacked them. Where he froze, entranced by dreams of glory... As if someone like him would ever deserve that! As if he would ever be welcomed back into Helm's fold! As if he hadn't failed, over and over, in his duties to protect the weak, to shelter the small, to stand guard against creeping darkness!

He sees them all, again and again: a pile of corpses from bird's eye view, like a grotesque pale flower on the branching path... And then, next time the darkness ebbs, he sees individual people. His people. His responsibility. Flayed apart and put on display before him in minute detail. So he can look, never blinking, and take in every line, every pore, every callus on the hands that once shook his, so trusting, so grateful to have an actual paladin in their midst.

Maybe he is still there, still among them, a swaying lunatic standing guard over people who will never draw another breath. Maybe he imagined all that followed — his capture, his desperate flailing inside the narrow, suffocating, coffin-like confines of a glass pod... His escape.

Yes, the escape must have been a figment of his weak, befuddled mind. After all, she was there. Niamh. His unlikely friend among the druids, and even more unlikely companion for one beautiful night. His ray of golden sun. His lost, long-gone hope.

First, he hallucinated her beside him — smiling tenderly when the roaring crowds celebrated him as a hero; her hand resting on his elbow; confetti caught in her flowing pink ponytail, making her look almost... Almost like a giddy, blushing bride.

And then, he invented a whole story about meeting her in Moonrise Towers. He imagined what she would have looked like, changed by her journey through the dark — more withdrawn, more weary, with purplish circles under her eyes and her hair shaved down to thorny bristles. Yet still happy to see him, still ready to hear him out, to forgive. This is what makes this a fantasy; more bloody wish fulfillment that cost so many lives!..

"I think it's working... Thank you for helping me with the spell."

A voice in the darkness? A new form of torment? It sounds like her again; he so desperately longs for it to be her again — but it can't be!

What if... The tendrils clutch him tighter, compressing his ribs to the verge of cracking... What if he is dead? And his soul returned to the Hells, where it belongs? And this mind-shattering blend of agony and temptation is his eternal punishment?

When the realization pierces through him, rupturing what was not yet crushed by his hideous bonds — he does what he did when his beloved city sank into Avernus. He screams.

... With that, comes another realization. He *can* scream. He can move his arms. The tendrils have come loose. He does not even need to strain against them before they recoil, melting into misshapen puffs of dull red smoke. Instead of being constricted, he... floats. Weightless, yet at the same time, keenly aware of his body — of how strong, how whole it feels. He is carried by waves of ethereal blue, not quite water, not quite light... Magic — Niamh's magic.

It trickled in before he could properly notice: blue cracks in the inky blackness, broader by the second. He blinks — oh, how wonderful it is, to be able to blink! — and all the swirling ink has been washed away. With it, the flashes of the cultists' victims — his victims, even more — are gone as well. The magic envelops him, cradles him, carries him higher... Odd — he seems to recall this sensation of being carried from somewhere before —

"On second thought, perhaps I will not miss hearing the screams of someone laid out on a table before me."

Zevlor gasps, like a half-drowned man tossed ashore. Then swallows — once, twice; by Helm's grace, he is parched. There is some manner of hard surface underneath him, cutting uncomfortably into his back. The light — a mix of dusty grey glow and the last fading wisps of magic — makes his eyes sting. The air prickles at his bare skin. It all feels very... real. And it makes so much sense: his body is affected, and his mind reacts to that. All of him works as one; all of him is his own again.

The half-elven woman who quipped about him screaming is still looking down at him. He... He remembers her; her name is Shadowheart...

"I apologize if I startled you," he half-whispers, his throat growing more and more scratchy with every word.

"No harm done," a massive, yet comforting presence swims into view — Halsin. "You have been through so much."

"We will be moving out soon, but there is still time to rest."

And that's... Gods, that's Niamh! Just as she appeared to him in his final hallucination.

"No... Not again..." he laments out loud, his eyes transfixed on her features. "I wanted this to be real..."

Niamh frowns.

"It is!"

She hastily reaches for his hand and cups it between hers. Zevlor's heart thumps softly against his mended chest; and out of the corner of his eye, he catches Halsin smiling knowingly.

"It is all real. Both the pain, and the hope. And you know what else is real?"

She carries his hand up, brushing it along her cheekbone and bringing it to rest against her lips.

"That you are no longer alone."

Shadowheart sighs.

"Karlach is going to be so insufferable about the two of you, isn't she."

[redxixi]

pleasure cabin

werewolf AU 

content warning:  werewolf!dabi AU, NSFW thoughts, kidnapping, corupption, naked people?,shapeshifting dabi, a bit of reader gettin pyshically hurt (not absure)

A/N : this is my first time writing something this long or writing anything in particular i hope its good. you can expect a part 2 of this. my asks will be open sooo ask whatever you want. might be slight grammar error pls bear in mind english isnt my first language lol.

.

.

you wake up to the sound of a buzzing alarm clock causing youre head to pound. you roll over turning it off and stare at the ceiling trying to remain awake.

you were never really a moring person, you like nights better than the moring. At night its far more calming and peaceful than in the moring. Full moon nights were the best. youd often go out of the city, into the woods where you have a little cabin that youre grandparents used to own. about a couple miles away from the cabin, deeper into the woods, lies a beautiful lake where the moonlight reflects on the water and illuminates the surrounding area. youd often go there once a week to get away from the hustle and bustle of the college campus.

today was friday so that meant you could go there after class and you couldnt wait.

pulling youre sheets off of you and heading into the bathroom where you already miss the warmth of youre bed,you force youre self to take a cold bath since that always woke you up. after youre done with youre shower you look at the time.

"6:00"

realizing you will probaly be late for class you quickly throw on youre favorite oversized shirt and mom jeans along with a pair of boots that youre mother once owned.

"i wonder how mom is doing lately" you wonder while putting on the pair of boots

on youre way to class you bought a couple of donuts and a coffee. you never liked coffee but that was the only thing you could afford at the time and it was cheap so you forced your self to drink the bitter beverge and head to class.

"Y/N" you hear youre name so you turned around. "wait for meee, i missed youu so muchhh" you look at the brown haired girl."Uraraka you saw me yesterday stop being dramatic" you say sarcastically to youre best friend. Uraraka has been youre only friend since high school, the 2 of you were like sisters. Uraraka has always been a pretty girl that gets along with everyone. she the extroverted friend that adopted you, the introverted friend and since then you 2 have been through everything together.

"stopp being so meann anyway i realllyy need youre help" she says with a desperate face. "can we pleaseee switch partners for the math assigment. i really wanna do this with deku, im thinking of asking him out tonight so if you switched it would be a big help." she says while holding both youre hands.

"sure i dont mind switching, btw who is youre partner again?"

"i got paired with uhhh dabi" she says with a worried look on her face.

"oh dont worry its no big deal as long as hes okay with us switching then im fine"

"REALLY you mean it omg YOURE THE BEST thankk you soooo muchhhh" she says while bear hugging you

"nway i gotta get to class see ya BYE." she says while running away to her class.

"this isnt good...im not fine." you think about dabi and his face, how he haunts youre dreams, youre thoughts, youre life. you never realised when this happend. at the beginning of the semester when you heard that the devilishly handsome looking man would be in youre class you couldnt help but feel a bit exited. when you got to class that day and sat in the back like you always do to avoid people he came and sat right next to you.

"goodmoring angel" he said in a deep sexy voice. youre cheeks grew red

"goodmoring." you say back in a shaky voice. that nickname and deep voice did something to youre insides and youre core. that day you couldnt focus on anything the teacher said. instead you kept admiring him.

his hands.

his hands were adorned in beautiful skull like rings and he painted his nails black. his forearms had veins going all the way up and he had a beatiful snake tattoo on his forearm. "his hands are bigger than mine." you thought. you couldnt help but wonder how they would look like around youre neck, between youre thighs and in youre mouth. "he must have done that with alot of girls." you wonder.

since that day he sat next to you everyday becoming even more attractive, if that was even possible. you look forward to going to class now too and today isnt any diffrent. entering class you look around and take youre seat where you usually sit waiting for youre dark prince to show up. but he never did.

the entire day you hadnt seen dabi nor heard from him. you missed him and started to grow worried. durning luch you felt down cause he wasnt there. "where is he? is he hurt? sick? did and accident happen?" you frantically start to overthink. in search of awnsers you head over to Ochako's class. you remeber her saying dabi's brother, shoto sits in her class so you decide to go ask him about it. on youre way there you passed the headmasters office where you hear a fimiliar voice. taking a peak through the window you see dabi talking to the headmaster."whats he doing here?" you wisper to your self.

"i wont be able to come to school for atleast 2 weaks...somthing came up in my family and its urgent." 2 WEEKS?! he will be gone for 2 weeks you felt sad,confused, angry. why was he leaving for 2 weeks? what happend in his family? will he be alright? will he ever come back? you felt light headed so yu decided to head home. you felt torn on the inside and you had a splitting headache. arriving home you took a hot bath and layed in bed thinking about today and how you wouldnt be able to see dabi for the next 2 weeks. not to mention you got alot of unfinished homework and assigments left you didnt do. this was all too much. you decided to forget all about everything and go to the cabin where you could relax and do youre work in peace. you took out youre suitcase threw some clothes in and headed out.

when you arrived at the cabin it was already 5:00 it was about to get dark. you took out your suitcase and keys and headed inside the cabin. it was a neat looking,2 story tall cabin with a nice porch outside and beautiful garden. going inside you head upstairs to the master bedroom where you just threw your self on the bed. you where exausthed. you probably should have taken a bath but you didnt have the strenght. slowly you feel youre eyelids getting heavy and drifting into sleep.

you woke up around 4:00 am that night feeling better. you head downstairs to drink some water, since you couldnt sleep anymore. after that you headed to the upstairs balcony and started into the silent and mysterious woods. there was a bit of fog that was hanging on the trees making everything seem like it as from a horror movie. it was a full moon night. the moonlight illuminated the area making it seem like the abyss of the woods came to life,as if the woods where trying to warn you of the danger that will overcome you. you felt sticky and sweaty, in desperate need of a bath you make the oh so great decision to go swim in the lake. the woods may scare other people but you basically grew up here with youre mother and it felt like home. the fog,the silence,the howling wind, it seemed like all of it is your friend. and tonight those friends where telling you something. but you shook it off as your "imagination". taking your bathrobe and phone you head towards the lake, the fog was thick and howling wind was loud. after a while you reached the lake and its as beautiful as ever, the moonlight reflected its light on the clear water making it shine like diamonds and the fog made it seem like the sky came down just to great you.

but something was off and you could feel it, it was as if something were watching you, waiting for a moment to attack its prey,that prey being you. you felt a bit anxious so you stripped of your clothes, put on your towel and went in the lake. it was the perfect temperture, you found youreself getting lost in the oh so relaxing feeling of water against your skin. you soon forgot the anxious feeling, the only feeling you felt was peace, comfort and tranquility. nearby you in the woods were a pair of dark blue eyes stalking your every movement, maping out the curves of youre body, taking in the form of your supple looking breasts and the curves of your waist. "she looks like a goddess." the blue eyed man thought to himself and he was not lying. you looked so elegantly in the lake, the moonlight reflected of your body making you look a pure maiden of the gods. "its as if the moon god himself sent you down from heaven" the blue eyes man couldnt help but want to ravish you, you looked so innocent, so curruptible, so breakable. he would make you scream his name for hours, giving you all the pleasure you wanted, filling you to the core with his children, making you his. these thoughts dwelled in his mind as you swam so peacefully unbeknowing of the terror that was about to come upon you.

after a couple minutes of swimming you decided to get out. putting on your bathrobe and gathering all your stuff, you are ready to leave when you hear some tweaking in the woods next to you. its probably nothing you think trying not to panic but as you where about to turn around you hear growling. wolfs? cyotes? no thats impossible you lifed here all your life and you never heard of any wolfes or cyotes being here. emerging from the shadow was indead a wolf but not a regular wolf, this wolf was huge about 6 feet tall and it looked as big as a car. you froze unable to procces anything from fear, the blue eyed monstorous figure slowly stalked towards you and you didnt dare move. the figure stopped in its tracks and the both of you looked at eachother, it was strange, you felt as if you have know this figure, its sky blue eyes reminded you of a certain someone.

CRACK. you heared a loud cracking sound from behind the figure causing it to turn its head and as soon as it did that you ran. you didnt know where you where going but you just ran. you head footsteps from behind you and knew that thing was on your trails, you ran deeper into the woods into an area that you dont recognize. the trees seem bigger and its branches too, you kept getting scrached from its roots but the pain only seemed to push you into running faster. soon you run into a big root from one of the trees that you didnt see.

CRACK

the sound of your ankle breaking was heard vividly. you fell into the ground screaming, crying and didnt know where you are. as soon as you looked behind you there he was, the blue eyed figure, waching you closely, you were his prey, and he was your preditor. you couldnt help but cry. "please i dont wanna die" you say sobbing, you didnt want to die, you wanted to see your mom, graduate, you wanted to see dabi and if possible be his. as if the figure understood your plea it backed away a couple inches and howled loudly. the figure started to transform, it was getting smaller, its paws were shrinking and it started to look like...a human?

"my dearest Y/N dont be afraid i would never dream of hurting you. dont you recognize me my love?" you couldnt believe what you were seeing. the blue eyes monster was now a human and not just any human, it was dabi. youre dabi, the one you fell in love with. you felt dizzy you couldnt procces what was going on and the pain in your ankle made it worse. you cant think straight, your eyes closed you felt your consciousness slipping away from you, as your unconscious body is about to fall dabi leaps forward and catches you.

"oh my sweat angel sleep well once you wake up you will be all mine"

and you would,once you woke up your whole world would become upside down, your whole world would become his.

(A/N : part 2? maybe? probably?)

[poppywriter]

𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓗𝓸𝓽𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮

- by 𝘗𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘺

- - -

9 to 5 - 5 to 9

Repeat.

Work, eat, sleep

Repeat,

Work from 9 to 5

Stare at the ceiling from 5 to 9

Repeat.

Work more, push food down your throat and feel guilty as you sleep.

Well as you wait for your brain to finally shut down,

- would it fucking finally shut down ?

Fake it till you make it they say

So you make it as you fake it.

But is it really fake if it comes so naturally ?

Does it make your smile true if you do it without thinking ?

Are you happy ?

You surely don’t feel like it but people say you seem fine.

Are you though ?

You don’t know anymore.

What do you feel ?

What is happiness anyway ? Isn’t it feeling idly calm, not being bothered by anything…

You feel like that, unbothered, plain… Empty.

All the things plaguing your mind are just too much so it’s better to lock them away, they would ruin your happiness, this idleness.

You widely prefer feeling nothing than be overwhelmed.

Surely you aren’t overwhelmed if everything seem worthless.

If it’s worthless than it is not important and not worth any attention.

- like you

Change, you needed change.

That’s why you hair is different.

Longer, shorter, greener, blonder, bluer…

You needed to feel different,

To see another thing stand out in the mirror,

To see another person in the mirror.

Because you are sick of this plain face staring right back at you, trying to expose all of this ugly truth.

Change, you wanted change.

Because when things change, then time passes

and if time passes the past passes away

You want that.

Yes, you need that.

For the past to leave, for those events to be no more in your mind.

You forget.

But that look in the mirror — those bored eyes in the glass staring right back — they reveal your soul.

It reminds you.

Yes you remember where you are, who you are, what you feel.

The reflection in the mirror, is it your true self ?

Because you definitely don’t like what it shows.

How old even are you ?

You feel like your life has the rhythm of a broken record,

Your body the energy of a corpse,

Your mind the torment of a martyr,

But you just started living.

Why are you doing this ?

Why would you do that to yourself ?

Fucking breath, stop crying and smile a bit,

Come on it’s not that hard,

Stop fucking dwelling on things.

But that’s all you can think about at night when your ceiling seems to be your only friend.

When your bed has been calling your name from the moment you woke up but now seems to want you anywhere else.

When you find yourself once again in this position, an unrequited love for sleep.

You need him but it would not hear your calls.

So its arch nemesis takes its place .

Running.

Again and again.

Without stopping.

Fusing with thoughts, ideas, images, sounds, memories, emotions…

Everything distorted, keeping your attention and your eyes wide open.

Silence.

You need silence.

- will your brain fucking shut up !?

Stop.

It has to stop.

Your erratic breathing being a useless source of concentration.

Something.

You need something to make it stop.

*sigh*

You listen.

You concentrate on it.

A strangers’ voice, laugh, humming, singing, breathing, heart beating…

It’s as if the warmth missing beside you is filled by the noise coming in your ears.

Shushing the havoc in your mind.

A sweet and warm melody lulling you into a slumber.

But your eyes are forced open by the ringing of the alarm.

How could you ? Flee reality ?

Stop fucking hoping.

- You hate hoping

Why should you get up ?

You really don’t want to.

Why does the simple thought of stepping foot out of the cover makes your eyes water ?

People wouldn’t mind anyway.

You wouldn’t mind either way.

You are still tired, you should go back to sleep then, right ?

Nothing is holding you back.

Except for the impossibly high expectations you set for yourself, the idea that every lasting moment might be decisive for your future, that you might miss something, the idea that every eye is on you and people constantly eavesdrop on your life criticizing every single one of your movement and choice…

You have to get up then.

You force yourself to.

It feels like it often, like you have to force yourself to live.

So you are tired.

You are tired as you get dressed,

You are tired as you brush your teeth,

You are tired as you wash your face

- that fucking ugly face looking at you in the mirror

You are tired as you skip breakfast,

You are tired as you tie your shoes, as you put on your coat,

You are tired as you step out of the door.

Just an empty bag on your shoulder as you drown your mind in the sound coming out of your headphones.

You weave through a faceless crowd, walking without watching because everything is a routine by now.

You are tired as you walk.

Your eyes staring into nothingness, a blank stare plastered on your face.

You must fix this before arriving, before seeing people you know, before disappointing people by letting them in on the ugly truth.

It’s only when you see that your shoelace has come undone that you realise where you are.

Your gaze is now fixated on the landscape.

Cars passing by, joggers running on the side, teenagers walking to school.

People seem so little from up here.

You feel so little here, in this world.

The air is cold, biting at your skin and making your eyes water as you can’t seem to will them closed.

Your mind is blank, your heart feels calm.

It is as if the numbness at the tips of your fingers took hold of your entire body and soul.

You stare at the sky, your mind reeling with dreams of flying — yes — of feeling free.

Maybe you should call.

It would be a good idea to call.

But if you do, wouldn’t it mean you’ve passed a point of no return ?

You don’t want to realise that, no you prefer denial, you prefer nothingness, emptiness, numbness.

But your fingers have typed the numbers and it is dialing.

The ringing filling your ears.

You have always wondered how it felt to fly.

How the wind flowing through your clothes, against your skin would make you feel free.

Yet you’ve always been the type to bury yourself in a hole hoping to see one day the blue of the sky.

And as the line seems to get cold.

- you feel numb, you’ve been burning with haste

- And you realise it now what a terrible waste

You dream that you would be an angel, with beautiful wings, able to touch the clouds.

But in the end, you know you were never meant to soar high in the sky.

As Icarus you brunt your wings down and everything came crashing down…

Finally, your mind stops reeling as another phone is ringing.

- - -

Inspired by @jackstauber ’s song “Baby Hotline”

+ ringing sounds from the song as well

Credit to @adhimuff_ and @avogado6_jp for the piece of arts I used to illustrate my words.

+ montage on CapCut.

Be aware that this piece tackles dark subjects surrounding mental health.

If you find yourself in a position as such, you should seek help (even though it is easier said than done I know) but talk to a parent or close person. Aside from that you can always reach out to a su*c*de hotline. It is very important to get help, hope is not lost. ❤️

Moreover I am conscious my prononciation isn’t perfect in this audio so I apologize for that, I’ll do better in the future 🫶🏻

- Beaucoup d’amour, Poppy ❤️

🔺Original work, please do not steal or copy. Thanks. 🔺

[hdmolan]

* ╱ ʀʏᴜ ᴍᴏʟᴀɴ ♥︎ …ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ * ╱ ♥︎ 395 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ 2,198 ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ* ╱  ⤿ a self para

The girls, particularly Molan, were thrilled to arrive in Jeju. Molan recalled visiting the place several times as a young girl with her family, usually on private jet trips over the weekends. The beach house the girls would be at was stunning - the high ceilings and expansive windows exuded a luxurious beach vibe. As the girls got ready for their pajama scene in the promo shoot, they chatted excitedly about their dreams and aspirations as they sat in front of the mirrors, getting their hair and makeup done - the energy in the house was palpable. The girls had a sense of camaraderie and support as they encouraged each other and shared tips and tricks for looking their best on camera. Despite the pressure of the shoot, everyone remained calm and focused.

Molan found a moment to reflect on the day's events as the shoot ended. She felt a sense of accomplishment at having completed the task at hand, but there was still a yearning within her. She strongly desired to visit the beach - the water always brought her joy. She wore her favorite Fendi swimsuit and denim shorts and went to the shore, where the waves were crashing. The salty breeze caressed her face, and she felt a sense of peace. Being close to the vast body of water made her feel at ease. Molan had always been drawn to the ocean. As a child, she had spent countless hours playing in the waves, building sandcastles, and collecting seashells. Even as an adult, the ocean held a special place in her heart. She had always found a sense of mystical purification in the water. Being by the sea allowed her to lose herself in the moment and forget about the stresses of everyday life.

The island was an unexpected escape that she didn't realize she needed. The beach provided the perfect backdrop for her to unwind and recharge. The sound of the waves and the sun beginning to set was a balm to her soul. Eventually, Molan reluctantly made her way back to the beach house. But she knew that she would be back at the beach soon. The ocean had a way of calling to her, and she couldn't resist its siren song. She felt grateful for the unexpected escape and knew it had given her the energy to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.

[waterdamage-omoriau]

(part 1)

Henry sets his newly-acquired box, the bottom already stained with grease, onto the kitchen counter. SALLY: …Pizza?

She sounds skeptical, and not nearly as happy as Henry had hoped about what he thought was her favorite food. She’s peeking her head over the counter, her pigtails sprouting up like little saplings.

HENRY: Pizza. You like pizza, don’t you?

He carefully transfers a thin slice from the box to a plate and gives it to her.

Sally stares at it, takes a single, half-hearted bite, and puts the pizza back down.

SALLY: …Yeah.

She scowls and swallows.

Henry picks a piece for himself, foregoing a plate and letting it droop in his hand. 

HENRY: Sally, I won’t know what’s wrong unless you tell me.

She picks back the edge of the cheese.

HENRY: Is it the wrong flavor? I’m sorry if there’s something you’d like more…

Sally shakes her head. The piece of cheese stretches and tears.

Henry kneels to her eye level.

HENRY: Are you worried about moving?

Her orange-stained hands curl into little fists.

SALLY: NO!

Her plate crashes on the floor, startling Henry back.

SALLY: We had pizza yesterday AND double-yesterday! I don’t WANT it!

HENRY: Why didn’t you TELL me!?

He realizes he’s been getting angry and pushes the feeling down, but too late. Sally’s eyes brim with tears as her little face scrunches up and she flees to the living room.

He sighs deeply, a little ball of guilt lodged in his chest. She’s only four. He can’t expect her to communicate perfectly. He hoped that she would be a little bit more mature than she is right now, though.

HENRY: I… I should clean up a little.

The kitchen is a mess; pizza box still open, surfaces cluttered with fruits and papers and moldy breads still in their packaging, even without mentioning the fresh disaster in the middle of the floor. There’s a stain in the ceiling, creeping out from its cave above a cabinet, bloating the stucco like a king-dead fish.

A pipe must have internally burst there at some point, or something similar. It’s water damage either way.

Henry gets to work. He throws out most of the bread and lines up the fruits in a neat row. All the pizza, including the slice that he didn’t eat, gets packaged into plastic bags and put in the fridge next to some old, gross-looking soda. Finally, after tossing the solid pieces of what was left on the floor, he soaks a rag under the faucet and gets to scrubbing away the sauce-cheese mixture.

His eyes meet his own wet reflection and he shivers. He doesn’t like the feeling of water on his hands. It’s slimy and stifling, so as soon as he’s done he quickly dries it off.

It’s been long enough, he decides. He grabs a banana off of the counter and heads to go calm down Sally.

She’s not crying anymore, but she’s sitting by the far side of the sofa looking moody, which isn’t good either.

HENRY: You haven’t eaten, so I got you this.

She takes the banana and eats it, still silent and sullen.

HENRY: I’m sorry about what I said. It won’t happen again.

SALLY: …

He takes back the banana peel and throws it out in the nearest trash can.

He should be happy, right? Sally is okay, so he should be is happy.

As he thinks, he hears a knock at the door.

He doesn’t answer to solicitors and salesmen. But Sally is closer than he is and already going to open it. And the person talking, muffled on the other side… doesn’t he know that voice?

[amplifyme]

Another excerpt from Nan Dibble's Inside Out, because it's just so damn good. And it makes me deliriously happy.

Diana and Vincent are still isolated below the inhabited sections of the tunnels, in a massive cavern called the Maze, which has a shallow lake at its center. They've just finished up a lakeside picnic, which included a special kind of sun tea Diana brewed for Vincent before they'd made the trek down.

He bent into another sudden, graceful stoop but this time sat, looking out over the water to whatever his eyes could see there. For herself, she was just about blind. But she didn't need eyes to fold an arm up across his shoulder, leaning against his back.

            “Are you—” she began, and then hushed at the immediate stiffening that required her silence.

            He was listening to something. Sitting perfectly quiet, she at last heard it too: the tiny, faint plink of drops falling off the ceiling and dropping into the lake.

            The noise was, to sound, what fireflies were, to light. She'd never heard sounds so small, in such a large place. She found herself holding her breath, to listen better, meanwhile knowing that never in her life would she ever forget sitting here with him like this, listening for the falling drops, that was like trying to spot meteors through the city haze. Gone almost before you were sure you'd seen anything at all. Senses stretched out absolutely as far as they would reach. Wide open. Breathing.

            Tasting the residue of mint in her mouth. Catnip was a mint; the label had described it as a mild soporific. Help get you to sleep. Or be dessert and an antidote for sadness. Special.

            Sun tea.

            “Oh,” he said. “You're here.” As though he'd just realized it and it was a fresh and delightful discovery. He turned, coiling into himself, and the next second she found herself with his arms clasped around her and his head in her lap. A little tentatively, she began stroking fingers through his still-damp hair. Then down his back, which she knew he generally liked, but there were really too many layers for that to be much good. So she hitched and moved just a little, within his arms, until she could lay her cheek against the top of his head and smell that marvelous wet-hair smell, that was the sexiest thing she could imagine. And probably looked like a damn fool, a contortionist, doing it, she thought. And then lost that thought, and her self-consciousness, into the realization that he was humming, or something, just faintly. A vibration almost as much felt as heard. And full of the most perfectly peaceful contentment and happiness.

            She wouldn't have thought it was possible to love him any more than she did. But it was. She did. And since forever wasn't a length of specific time but a quality of time, they stayed there forever.    

And later...

The high had passed off as suddenly as it'd come. He'd merely rolled off, making a remark about the logistics of heating enough water at one time to fill a tin bathtub, that'd made plain he'd been thinking about the matter for some while. And she'd commented she'd pretty near kill for a hot bath, and they'd wandered back to collect the picnic leftovers, just as calm as though he hadn't been high as a kite for an unmeasured but lengthy time before that.

 No hangover. Nothing. He didn't even seem to feel anything at all remarkable had happened. And maybe, for him, it hadn't. Maybe, to someone accustomed to the occasional vision, chatting with spooks, prophetic dreams, and small seizures of trance, being blitzed into total euphoria seemed like nothing much out of the ordinary. Although he made a point of pouring the rest of the sun tea back into the jar and screwing the cap down hard, he showed no other interest in it, that appetite apparently satisfied for the time.       

When it'd been enough, there was no perverse yen for more. Strolling back home with him, she'd reflected she wished liquor was like that. Or people, other people, were like that...

[divtanver]

Chapter Two: Unique Aftertaste

A sharp and sudden sound cut through space with its blade and echoed through consciousness.

"What is this?" Tails's mind, which had not yet fully returned from a trip to the void, was thinking hard.

Out of habit, rather than on the orders of the brain, the hand turned off the clock dancing on the shelf. It's stopped arrows showed eight o'clock in the evening. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, he kept trying to come to his senses, unsuccessfully going over the events of the past day, which now added a slowly drilling headache to his feeling of oversleeping. Having mastered his weakness and swaying, fox headed for the bathroom, almost hitting the door on the way.

Stepping over the threshold and flipping the switch, he stared blankly at the reflecting surface. The bags that had been missing recently returned to their once empty places under differently opened eyes and decorating the already not very pleasant appearance of his physiognomy. Usually invigorating cold water did not drive away the awakening fatigue and it would seem only diluted the concentration of the cement with which the head now felt. After admiring himself enough, Tails finished tidying up and headed for the kitchen.

Opening the refrigerator, two-tailed grabbed a bottle of water and began to greedily swallow its contents. Only after drinking half of it could he quench his thirst.

It became a little easier.

In search of something to occupy himself, Tails went to the workshop. And noticed something strange: Although he could remember what he had been doing in recent days, the appearance of the work done was somewhat different from what he remembered. What previously seemed to have been brought to an ideal state was not really such, in some places, upon careful examination, errors and flaws could be seen. Looking at the blueprints, Tails understood where these problems came from. Incorrectly performed calculations and uneven proportions ruined figures and geometric shapes of the original idea. Deciding to redo the spoiled work, he began to redraw them, but constantly confused in each other thoughts forced him to give up this lost cause.

Now, a few minutes later, two-tailed was lying on sofa in the living room and looking at the ceiling, despite the fatigue still present, he did not feel the need to sleep. Soon, hunger began knocking on the mind door. Abrupt and uninvited, it's demanded treats which Tails could not give in full. Deciding to appease it with a quick snack again, fox rummaged through the refrigerator for a while, from where a little later he took out some quick-to-eat food and consumed it. However, pleasant taste was somewhat weaker than he expected, but at least this was enough. The headache that had been tormenting heretofore went away with hunger and fatigue. After several hours of feeling unwell, Tails was finally able to relax by picking up a chemistry book that had recently got his interest. After reading about half of it, he began to yawn, lowering his head more and more each time. With a last silent click of the small arrow, wall clock struck midnight, knocking fox out of his half-sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he put the paper drive aside and hurried upstairs to the desired bed in order to continue the barely begun sleep. Tucked under the blanket, Tails closed his eyes. Sound of the beginning rain and the still relentless wind hummed an ear-caressing melody, calm and soothing.

.

.

.

Something snatched him out of his impenetrability, something fleeting and barely noticeable, but enough to excite his drowsy consciousness.

A strong knock of drops on the glass

Or a distant thunderbolt.

The fastening of old floorboards or...

Quiet footsteps.

Somewhere nearby, on the very edge of hearing.

Approaching and quieting down as quickly as they appeared, but had already warned their victim.

Laying motionless and noiselessly Tails was shackled by fear.

His ears were sharpened, ready to detect any disturbance in space. Heart accelerated its pace dangerously, accumulating adrenaline. Cold sweat slowly trickled down his heated forehead onto the white sheet, creating spots in the places of contact. Head buzzed with tension and veins bulged, ready to splash out on any source of danger. At any hint of a threat.

But it never showed itself. If there was one at all.

Without waiting for what he was looking for, candle of his consciousness went out, along with its burning wax energy.

.

.

.

Once again tired and now exhausted, Tails stood in front of the refrigerator door. The fingers of the hands independently chose a treat while their owner was looping in his head trying to figure out what had happened to him recently. A bad dream? hallucinations? Or something worse? The only thing that reminded of it now was a frantic heartbeat and a wet from sweat but still melting head. Trying to ignore them, twin-tailed sat down at the table and began to greedily, without even chewing, swallow the food. If it hadn't been for the disgusting taste, Miles wouldn't have noticed what he was eating. Despite the full belly, the hunger has not gone away.

'This is not overwork, there is clearly something wrong with me,' Tails thought, standing at the window and leaning against the wall. 'I urgently need medical help.'

He had almost reached the landline phone when his stomach rumbled menacingly, some time later a gag rattled on its doors. Without hesitating for a second, fox rushed up the stairs to the bathroom.

As soon as he managed to open the door, he was immediately overtaken by vomiting gusts. Standing on all fours, he unsuccessfully tried to stop the disgusting mass, but in vain. The remnants of undigested food splattered the floor in a torrent, drawing ugly patterns. The last drop of vomit came off in a long saliva and Tails sat down on the ground, shaking.

He stayed in this position for several minutes until he was able to regain control of his weakened body.

Finally gathering strength, he tried to sit up. After the second attempt, on wobbly legs, Tails moved towards his communicator, which he always left on the shelf.

Before reaching a few steps, the legs bent themselves. Remaining unsupported fox flew to the floor in the process hitting his head on the edge of the bedside table.

Sparks flew from eyes, burning through it's closed eyelids. Space shrank into a small dot through which a cracked and flickering monitor with a familiar blue face peered through. Numb fingers reached for the green button, but in a couple of centimeters from their target went limp and fell down like a stone.

The vibration of the device matched the fading heavy beat of the exhausted heart and subsided just as synchronously.

[panoramicharbour]

Embrace Serenity in the Panoramic Harbour View Apartment

Introduction: Nestled in the heart of Sydney, the Panoramic Harbour View Apartment offers a unique and enchanting living experience. This light and airy one-bedroom haven beckons residents with its breathtaking views of Sydney Harbour and the iconic Harbour Bridge. Imagine starting each day with a cup of coffee on the balcony, where the tranquil beauty of the harbor unfolds before your eyes, and the gentle breeze carries the promise of a serene day ahead.

A Symphony of Views: The crowning jewel of this apartment is undoubtedly its panoramic views. The floor-to-ceiling windows flood the living space with natural light, providing an open and inviting atmosphere. As you step onto the balcony, the world-class scenery of Sydney Harbour unfolds, offering an ever-changing landscape that captivates with its beauty.

The Harbour Bridge stands majestically in the distance, a timeless symbol of Sydney's charm. Witness the play of light and shadow as the sun sets, casting warm hues across the harbor, or be captivated by the twinkling lights of the cityscape in the evening. The apartment becomes a front-row seat to the daily symphony of colors and reflections that dance upon the water.

A Tranquil Morning Ritual: One of the most alluring aspects of the Panoramic Harbour View Apartment is the opportunity to begin each morning in a state of tranquility. Picture yourself sipping a freshly brewed cup of coffee on the balcony, surrounded by the sounds of seagulls and the gentle lapping of the water against the harbor's edge. The panoramic view becomes a serene backdrop as yachts gracefully sail across the water, creating a calming and picturesque start to your day.

Functional Elegance: Beyond its captivating views, the apartment boasts a well-designed and functional living space. The interior is thoughtfully curated with modern furnishings that complement the natural light and openness. The one-bedroom layout provides a cozy retreat, offering both comfort and functionality. The kitchen, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, invites culinary exploration, allowing residents to create delightful meals while enjoying the stunning backdrop of the harbor.

Community Amenities: The Panoramic Harbour View Apartment extends its charm beyond its walls. Residents have access to a range of amenities that enhance the overall living experience. A communal rooftop terrace provides an additional vantage point to appreciate the city skyline, while a fitness center and lounge offer spaces for relaxation and socializing.

Conclusion: The Panoramic Harbour View Apartment offers more than just a place to reside; it provides an immersive lifestyle experience. From the awe-inspiring views of Sydney Harbour to the thoughtful design and community amenities, every aspect of this apartment is designed to elevate daily living. Embrace serenity and elegance in a space that not only captures the essence of Sydney but also becomes a canvas for your own moments of beauty and reflection.

For More Info:- https://www.stayz.com.au/holiday-rental/p9754639

[hariyhub07]

Luxury Retreats: Bathroom Remodeling Marvels in Concord

The bathroom, once a utilitarian space, has evolved into a sanctuary of relaxation and indulgence. In Concord, a city known for its commitment to elegance and modern living, the realm of bathroom remodeling has transformed ordinary spaces into luxurious retreats. This exploration unravels the elements that define bathroom remodeling marvels in Concord, shedding light on the trends and practices that have elevated these spaces into sanctuaries of opulence and comfort.

Opulent Design Elegance

A distinctive characteristic of bathroom remodeling in Concord is the infusion of opulent design elements. Homeowners and designers alike are gravitating towards luxurious materials and finishes that elevate the bathroom from a functional space to a haven of elegance. From floor-to-ceiling marble to custom-crafted vanities and gold-accented fixtures, the emphasis is on creating a visually stunning environment that exudes opulence.

Opulent design extends beyond aesthetics to encompass functionality. The layout of these luxurious bathrooms often incorporates spacious walk-in showers, freestanding soaking tubs, and strategically placed lighting to enhance the overall ambiance. The result is a bathroom that not only serves its practical purpose but also envelops the user in a cocoon of luxurious tranquility.

Technological Innovations for Ultimate Comfort

Concord's bathroom remodeling marvels embrace the latest technological innovations to enhance the overall comfort and convenience of the space. Smart technologies are seamlessly integrated, allowing homeowners to control lighting, temperature, and even water flow with the touch of a button. Heated floors, programmable shower systems, and built-in sound systems contribute to the ultimate spa-like experience.

The integration of technology goes beyond mere gadgetry; it's a thoughtful approach to creating bathrooms that cater to the modern lifestyle. Homeowners can personalize their bathing experience, creating a retreat that aligns with their preferences and promotes a sense of well-being. Concord's bathroom remodels are not just about luxury; they are a testament to the intersection of technology and comfort.

Spa-inspired Retreats for Relaxation

The concept of transforming bathrooms into spa-inspired retreats is a prevalent theme in Concord's remodeling marvels. Homeowners seek designs that evoke the serenity and rejuvenation associated with high-end spas. This trend is reflected in the choice of calming color palettes, natural materials, and features such as steam showers and deep soaking tubs.

The spa-inspired retreat approach is not limited to large bathrooms; even smaller spaces are thoughtfully designed to maximize relaxation. Compact yet luxurious elements, such as waterfall showerheads, ambient lighting, and compact yet comfortable seating, contribute to creating an intimate spa ambiance. In Concord's bathroom remodeling, the focus is on providing residents with a daily escape to tranquility within the confines of their homes.

Customization for Personalized Luxury

A defining feature of bathroom remodeling marvels in Concord is the emphasis on customization. Homeowners are increasingly seeking bespoke designs that cater to their unique tastes and preferences. Custom-built vanities, unique tile patterns, and personalized storage solutions contribute to creating bathrooms that are not only luxurious but also reflections of the individuality of the residents.

The customization trend extends to the selection of fixtures, finishes, and even the layout of the space. From freestanding bathtubs positioned to take advantage of scenic views to tailored lighting schemes that enhance specific design elements, every detail is carefully curated to align with the homeowner's vision of personalized luxury. In Concord's bathroom remodels, one size certainly does not fit all.

Sustainable Luxury for Conscious Living

Concord's bathroom remodeling marvels are increasingly aligning with the principles of sustainable luxury. Homeowners are opting for eco-friendly materials, water-saving fixtures, and energy-efficient lighting solutions without compromising on opulence. This commitment to sustainability reflects a conscientious approach to luxurious living in harmony with the environment.

Sustainable luxury extends to the longevity of the design. Rather than following fleeting trends, Concord's bathroom remodels focus on timeless designs and durable materials that stand the test of time. This sustainable ethos not only reduces the environmental impact but also ensures that the luxury imbued in these spaces is enduring.

Conclusion: A Symphony of Opulence and Comfort

In the realm of bathroom remodeling, Concord stands out as a city where opulence and comfort converge to create sanctuaries of unparalleled luxury. From opulent design elegance to technological innovations, spa-inspired retreats, customization for personalized luxury, and sustainable considerations, the bathroom remodeling marvels in Concord are a symphony of elements that redefine the concept of comfort and indulgence.

As homeowners in Concord embark on the journey of bathroom remodeling, they are not merely seeking functional spaces; they are envisioning retreats that encapsulate their desires for luxury, relaxation, and personalization. Concord's bathroom remodeling marvels are a testament to the city's commitment to creating living spaces that transcend the ordinary, providing residents with a daily dose of opulence and comfort within the confines of their homes.

[demoths]

Pinedevil

Part 1

The chirp of frogs and insects filled the clear night sky, an ode to the Milky Way which cut a path through the heavens. Lichen covered stones radiated the heat of the sun which had taken its leave some hours before. Lunar rays shone down like a floodlight, obscuring the stars around it in its bright, ghastly nimbus. A young man adjusted himself, laying on his back on the massive slab of granite, staring up at the stars in primal awe. Three other young individuals surrounded him. An exceptionally tall man, a notably short woman, and a scruffy boy barely into his teens. All gazed skyward in rapturous amazement, eyes reflecting the sparkling celestial ceiling. As they laid there, wild noises serenaded them. The lake below them played a gentle beat as it lapped softly against the stone shore. Bugs chirp and chatter alongside the peep and croak of frogs, singing together with no rhythm and perfect harmony. A gentle breeze rustles the needles of tall pines while the leaves of skeletal paper birches turn back and forth, shimmering in the soft silver moonlight.

Countless minutes passed, then the tall man rose slowly to his feet, the joints in his lanky limbs popping softly. He let out a small groan, muttered something about a latrine, then wandered along a path that led away from the campsite, deeper into the woods. The other three remained, still transfixed by the stars and the sounds of nature all around them. The serenity seemed infinite, ineffable, profound on a level that defied expression, interpretation, or interruption.

It took less than a heartbeat to shatter the peace. Without warning, a high-pitched scream echoed across the lake, echoed off the steep stone banks, reverberated powerfully across the open expanse of calm water. The triplet of stargazers jumped as one, the horrific screech tearing them from their trance like a splash of frigid water on a sleeping child. The young man and woman were on their feet before they fully realized what they were reacting to, some primal instinct directing their gaze across the dark water, eyelids peeled wide. The younger boy sat up, but did not rise to his feet, instead staying in a low crouch. He rested his hand on the hilt of a knife on his belt. The sturdy feel of the hilt gave him some small comfort, the rubber and nylon grip seeming to meld with his hand in a familiar way. They held still, breathing shallowly. Birds, frogs, and bugs alike stayed perfectly silent, and the lap of water and rustle of leaves became like a roar, filling the void left by the creatures, then overflowing the space they had left. After what felt like eons, there was another scream, louder and longer. This second cry came not from across the lake, but from the north, to their left as they stared out at the water. The scream went on and on, rising and falling in pitch, stretching out painfully before falling in tone and volume, and finally fading away. After only a heartbeat or two, another scream resounded, rising steadily in pitch as it resounded across the water, in roughly the same direction as the first, but louder. The otherworldly clamor rose in volume and pitch until it became almost painfully loud, even from such a distance. When that third screamended, abruptly, without preamble, there was a ringing in everyone’s ears that deafened them to the noises of leaf and lake.

“What is that?”

[carmasi]

EP 6 - The Summoning

He opened his eyes startled, scared, when did he fell asleep? he moved around, his silver gaze trying to find his contractor as he stood up frantically. “What’s wrong?” hr swett voice calling out to him, he looked her way. She was sitting close to a couple of Siromas, they were surrounding her and looked like they huddled up around her overnight, they were asleep now by her side.  He sigh, secretly thanking odin she was safe, he brushed over his face trying and wake himself up, she giggle “go back to sleep, the sun hasn’t come out yet” she spoke softly as she petted one of the siroma’s by her side, he looked over at her, when did she move away from his embrace? And why was he even concerned she did? why was he… disappointed? He shook his head. He sat back down “how you know that?” he asked again looking as the cave stayed as lit as it was before. She  smile softly still petting the Siromas “ these little ones are still asleep, I’d guess its about 4 am or so …” she looked his way “ sleep,  you kept watch all night yesterday at the desert, you must be tire” he huffed as if he was offended “I’m fine.. “ he stammered. Staying on his place. “ I get it you’re not cold anymore?” he looked at her over his shoulder, looking at how cozy she looked, surrounded by the fluffy creatures. 

She shook her head “ I said I was fine before” she looked up at him, her gaze meeting his “ You’re the one who wanted a hug~” she tease. He blushed and look away and crossed his arms before seating back down “ I - I was being considerate..” she chuckle “ you’re stuttering again”  he bite his lips, when did she  get so familiar with him as to teased him like that?  He avoided her gaze yet again as she smile and giggle at his expension, he center his silver eyes around  the area,  he look at the light that reflect from the icicles and the crystal around them, the faint sound of  water dripping down through the cave, it was rather calming,  he  could somehow tell how she enjoyed being here “If you insist on staying up, there is a small clearing  a little further down, the water is icy, so… it’ll wake you right up” he looked her way as he then nodded at her suggestion “Will you be alright for a couple of minutes?” he asked as she nodded. 

It wasn’t long until he could see the clearing she spoke of. He kneel down to the water.  It was indeed chilly, he sighed before here washed his face, he looked over at the standing water in his palm, as he remember how it felt to have her rest in his arms. He blush not understanding, why was he feeling this way. He heard a rustle coming from the other side, he then lifted up his head, he noticed the floating head from before, he groaned annoyed. It was too close to where they had camped “ is it the same one?” he asked himself before he grabbed his sword. He sighed. “don’t matter, I’ll make quick work of you.. I can’t have you disturb her”  After a couple of minutes,  just as he said, he made work of the gazeti and came back to the camp. There was however a particular instrument at hand. He notice Kyrius eyes were closed as she snuggle the siroma’s surrounding her. He smile,  the aqua orb he’d gotten from the Gazeti put away before seating next to her. She must’ve kept watch when he felt asleep,  he looked up at the icicles on the ceiling “ she said it was about  4 am when I got up” he whispered looking back at her sleeping face, she was beautiful.

Her eyes flickered as she felt the siroma’s move away from her side, rubbing her eyes as she woke. Her brown colored eyes looking around her surroundings, the mercenary was seating by her side, his back to hers, his arms were crossed,  he was keeping guard.  She notice she was leaning against him, she giggle under her breath knowing he’d probably placed himself there so she wouldn’t fall to the ground. “H-had enough rest?” she heard him asked, his voice deep and low, she nodded. “ Thank you.. We can get back to the mission now” she stood and rubbed her eyes again  “I’ll wash up by the clearing, mind waiting for me a moment?” she asked as he looked up and nodded,  silently thanking he’d been there earlier and safe her the trouble of dealing with that floating head. She came back not to long after, and notice the camp had been packed up  “Oh you’re fast”  he said nothing, she look over at her satchel looking for a book “uhm.. What?” she blinked noticing an estrange artifact on her bag, she didn’t remember having this. She looked over at him,  he averted her gaze yet again, she chuckled. “I’ll ask him later” she whispered as she pulled out a book “I’ve come to realize, I didn’t told you whom we’re hunting.. And you’ve come this far not knowing” he shrugged, she approached “here” she opened the book next to him “its name is Ktullanux, is a Salamander made of Ice…” his silver gaze went wide for a moment as he notice its marking.

“You -You wanted to come take care of this thing on your own?” he looked over his shoulder at her skeptical, she smile as he did, almost as if it wasn’t a big deal “I just need a scale… is no like I have to defeat him”  she whispered softly, her gaze meeting the floor. “I-I gu-guess is a good thing I came” he covered his face with his cloak,  as she looked up she nodded and lead the way reading over the instruction on the book “It says right here, that in order to Summon the Ice master, we need to extinguish the 4 sacred flame in the cave” she sighed as he listened atentively, he saw her sighed sadly , when she spoke her eyes were lost in thought  “so-something wrong?” he asked coming to a halt, she looked over her shoulder “oh.. You see,  I tried my best to recreate the freezing snow powder required to extinguish the flame.. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t do it” she looked over her palm, she felt powerless “then who can?” she was brought back by her companion’s voice “some guy who roams the cave, his Name is Maheo, a Wizard or was it a Mage, we should try to find him first” she stopped coming to the entrance leading to the next cave, where they would find their destination. 

“I should warn you.. From this point we’ll encounter a multitude of aggressive beasts, not only would there be a higher number of Gazeti’s but Snowie and Ice titans… I can keep them at bay in small numbers but they could over power me easily if they team up”she snickered sadly “ I’m ashamed to say, I’m not a very good warlock” he looked at her while she sighed sadly. Again with the sighing, he thought. He walked next to her,  and as if something took over him he patted her head “Is okay, That’s what I’m here for” he mumble and smirk, though hide it under his bangs, she could tell. She smile softly “thank you..” was all she said before they walked in. The entrance was clear, no threats on site, she brought up her book and he kept his guard up “ it says he tend to roam the south west parts of this cave” he look over at her  from over his shoulder and nodded. “S-stay behind me..”  he requested, though she didn’t listen. “Come on, it's fine I got this! I said I was fine with them on small numbers, didn’t I?”  she giggle as she started to walk away, he sighed. “ That’s northeast” he  pointed out then took her hand on his.  “J-Just stay behind me… I thought you said you knew these caves” he groaned.

Kyrius chuckle, and lifted up the hand he had taken from her in an attempt to show him. “Well, I don’t roam these parts much because of the creatures in here” she giggle,  he blush noticing how he held her hand. “F..fine” he took his hand back, crimson burning his tan skin. “ Just .. tell me the directions, I’ll walk the right way for you” she nodded “ okay, deal!” she cheered, grateful for his presence. As they proceeded her previous words became apparent. Her skills were good, she could take care of single target no problem, even small area of effect were a breeze, but she faltered from time to time, almost as if she wasn’t sure of her own abilities. They continue walking the way  that was pointed out, soon  the  ground shook as they heard a rumble coming  from where they were heading “That sounded like magic” Kyrius whimpered as she tried to keep her balance from the rumble, he tried to hold on to her but pulled back, she sighed “we must be close to Maheo… they say he liked to test his skills here..”   he nodded as he listened and still led the way, the last thing he wanted, was to get lost with the warlock's misconstrued sense of direction. 

 As they soon came to what seemed like a dead end, they found a man sat on a block of ice, particles of  wind magic dancing on his gloved hands as he grinned to himself. The mercenary seemed weary of the man,  it looked like he was up to no good, though Kyrius went past him and in front of the strange looking mage, who was still playing with his mana.  “Are you Maheo?” she asked, her honey colored eyes placed on the man who scanned her over,  from top to bottom “ depend who’s asking” he responded, his tone condescending and a little  arrogant at most,  Wright brought his hand up into  fist, he didn’t like his tone, he didn’t like how he addressed her period. “ My Name Is Kyrius, I request you aid, if you may” Maheo looked at the woman, no doubt she was pretty but he huffed “ what does a warlock need from a Mage like me?” he asked as he continue to examine every curve of her body, the mercenary notice, an almost spoke but was cut off before he could, the mage laughed “ oh what am I saying I am Maheo the most powerful mage that ever existed!”  he gloated as he laughed to himself. 

Kyrius bite her lips, trying to utter the words. “ It's said, you’re able to craft  the  Freezing Snow Powder needed to extinguish the sacred Flame in this cave” she continued, looking the man’s way, Maheo the Mage looked at her over his shoulder  while his lips curled up a bit, not able to tell whether he was mocking her or not, she  shrugged it off. “ If you are, I am in need of it, I am planning to Challenge Ktullanux”  the man chuckle at her words. “ really?” he replied mocklingly, Kyrius clench her fist. The mercenary by her side said nothing, he only observed. He hadn’t seen her lose her cool. She was kindhearted to everyone, was she the same with those who’d pick at her? He asked himself, before he heard the man asked as he held in a laugh.  “But aren’t you a Warlock?” she nodded, before she heard the chuckle on his voice. “ Why would an all powerful warlock even need me to craft such simple item?” the mockery on his voice palpable “ it’s nothing but elemental combination, zephyr and aqua nonetheless,  you most know that don’t you?” he mocked again 

Her face never changed, she continued to smile but he could tell. The mercenary could look into the woman’s body language and her hands were clenched. “I’ve tried to craft it, it is not like I am seeking you out,  just  because, or out of ignorance…” her words broke by Maheo’s laugh “ This is why I am not moving forward, why change my class when it will grant me no more power than that which I have now! I am the greatest magic user ,even greater than a warlock itself haha!” he laugh he scanned the woman and pointed “ Your arm” she looked confused, surprised almost “Runes.. Runes cover both, your right arm and your neck..” he snickered “ are those Zephyr runes?” she looked away  “ and on your neck” he took a paused still snickering as he mocked her“ Aqua.. its aqua runes isn’t it?.. And you can’t do this one thing? It is to be expected from someone who’d go as far as to used runes on their own body”

Kyrius sighed as she held onto her right arms and gulped “ If you don’t feel like assisting me then don’t.  But please don’t mock my class, just because I am not strong enough to craft a simple magic item” she spoke calmly but his contempt expression never change “so, it is a you problem?” he chuckle at her words “ come on, how could they even  let someone like you become a warlock? Never mind a warlock, how could you even pass the wizard’s exams?” Kyrius gaze met the ground as he spoke “really?! you’re a glorified good for nothing warlock? Did they just hand out titles to pretty faces now?!” he mocked her “ you’re really that incompetent!? you can’t even  craft a single Freezing Snow Powder even with the runes!?” he stopped. “ Wait, how are you going to challenge the Ice Salamender in this cave, If you can’t even summon him!?” he looked over at the tall Scruffy muscular man with her and pointed “ Ooh, this is why you’re here? You hired yourself a babysitter? of course you did, someone as incompetent as you should!” he laugh mockingly 

Kyrius smile as she looked up “ Thank you for stating the obvious. if you’re not helping, keep your words too yourself. I am well aware of my own limitations,  so please be well, I’ll find my own way” she sighed as she turned around and started to walked away. The mercenary looked at her as she retreated, then back at the mage as he laughed while she stepped away. Wright clench his fist, he walked to her but his eyes open wide when he finally caught a glance of her face. His silver eyes filled with something that he could not explain on his own, but this feeling bubble up inside him, something filled his anger, it  made him grind at his teeth and turn  back towardthe mage. Maheo looked over as he heard the step of the man “ oh look who’s here the babysitter!” he chuckle but the man’s aura overtook him,  fear cursed thought his spine as he look at the man’s silvery icy glare, the mercenary’s 6’4” figure and that dark cloak made him uneasy “ you’re going to help” he grunted, while his hand reach for the mage cloaks “ You’re going to give me whatever it is she ask you for, as an apology for what you just said” Maheo tremble  and  ultimately nodded.  After a minute, he provided the mercenary with 4 Freezing Snow Powder in a satchel. 

The mercenary walked back to where he could catch up with the woman He accompany. She walked faster earlier on purpose to avoid his gaze and he had allowed it. Before he went over to her side, he stay behind, as he looked at her ash-blonde hair cascade over her back. She sat on a rock and her shoulders shook slightly;  She  was sobbing, faintly but he could hear it.  The words of the mage had been enough to break her to this degree. For as kind as she was, her heart was soft and those words probably wounded her deeply. He coughed to get her attention, she turned to see he had caught up to her.  Her eyes glistening slightly,  she rushed to clear the faint tears on her face “oh, hey.. I’m sorry I got ahead of myself and left you behind” she smile back, he looked away from that bright smile, how could he imagine, that this woman was just crying her heart out over some words, not just that, she had just put up a brave face as soon as she saw him come, a masked smile. “here” stumbling on his words, he brought out the satchel up to her face. Kyrius’s brown eyes widen in surprise. “ what is this?” she asked taking the satchel before he looked away. “ The man h-he said he’s sorry for what he said” he brushed the back of his neck in embarrassment, she giggle looking over at the man’s face. She knew Maheo was arrogant, even before she came, but she never expected him to get to her like he did. “of course he did” she smile faintly looking over the satchel, knowing well Maheo wouldn’t have apologize but that brawny, tall mercenary man had  gone out of his way to care for her.