#the suit is just. too much man its green AND thorny

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest JJBA Outfit Bracket - Round 1 Match 30

[diariesofthehermit]

A Strange Stone in Red County

        Darius frowned as he read the words written in red ink upon his door:

                                   Daríus. Ekki trufla heimili okkar.

                                                  Með kveðju,

                                                  Svartálfarnir

        That was the whole of it: his name, followed by some words in a language he did not understand, and no additional context. Who had done this? A member of that damned “Trees of Anarchy" group? He had been hounded by squadrons of organized tree-huggers before, but their warnings had never been so cryptic. Usually, their slander was as clear and as vehement as possible.

        Perhaps it was just a prank.

        The script was elegant and looked vaguely old fashioned- as if their author had travelled forward in time from some medieval monastery. If it was a joke, whoever pulled it put a lot of work into their calligraphy.

        Darius stood there for a few minutes, wondering idly what lengths protestors and pranksters would go to and how to remove ink from a wooden door (or how it had been applied in the first place). Then, abruptly, he took a quick picture with his phone and turned to walk to his truck.

        He had a job to do, and regardless of how anybody felt it was like his father had said: “There’s no getting in the way of progress.” True, his father had been a hard man. He had to be, growing up poor and Black during the era of Jim Crow would do that to you. His mother had been hard too for the same reasons. Yet he had learned from them; Darius did not bend like a frail tree in the wind.

        About thirty minutes later he arrived, ahead of his crew, at the work site. The plot of land was large, at least nine acres in either direction, and rested neatly beside the border of Red County. There wasn’t much that Darius could imagine anyone making a fuss over. The land was hilly and uneven. The rocky soil was blanketed in grass, poison-oak and thorny shrub. Short, thin trees grew together in tight formation throughout the plot, interlocking their branches and, in combination with the thorn-studded bushes, forming a near impenetrable wall opposing all would-be trespassers.

        Luckily, he had brought his chainsaw. His crew would be arriving soon as well, armed with tractors, bulldozers, stump-grinders, mulchers, woodchippers, backhoes and whatever else was needed to prepare the earth for the new homes of future gentrifiers.

        Darius opened his truck door and walked out, letting the autumn air greet his brown, solemn face. The sun was still in the process of rising, its rays casting a romantic aura onto the treetops. When he was a child, he mused, he would have found this place an Eden. The poison-oak would have been jungle creepers, the tops of the birches a rainforest’s canopy. It would have been nice to have been around something green, he mused. Green didn’t pay the bills, though.

        He turned and walked back towards his truck, grabbing his chainsaw from the backseat. With one mighty tug he pulled the cord to turn it on.

        It did not turn on, however.

        Well fuck me. There was no time to go home and grab another; his crew would be arriving shortly. Darius sighed, put on his hard-hat and protective goggles, and proceeded to prepare for his team’s arrival.

        One by one they came, like a legion of termites, orderly and eager for work. They emerged from their vehicles already dressed in their protective gear, knights suited in armor and prepared for battle.

        Yet Darius’s earlier luck continued. Any useful vehicle ceased to be operational once it entered the periphery of the lot. The tractor stalled. The bulldozer had developed a gas-leak. An axe-blade fell off its handle. Their bowsaw came apart.

        “What the fuck is going on?” Darius demanded, to no one in particular, after the first few minutes of technological mutiny.

        “You think it’s that “Trees of Anarchy” group?” asked Mikey, one of his men. “Maybe we should have gotten that impact statement.���

        “You think this was them?” retorted Carl, “Half of this shit was working just yesterday, and we both checked our tools this morning! How they pull all this off in one night, without anyone knowing? Most of those fucks are just teenagers, they can barely drive, let alone sabotage a tractor!”

        “I don’t see any other explanation,” Mikey offered as a rebuttal.

        The other men had begun to gather around Darius in a sort of aimless, expectant fashion. He supposed they were expecting him to take charge. Unfortunately, he was dumbfounded. “I don’t fucking believe it,” he muttered. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

        “Don’t sweat it boss,” another man spoke up. His name was Zeke, and he was the oldest among them; Zeke was the only one there who sported gray hair on both his head and his chin. He spoke with the air of authority that came with a wrinkled and venerable face such as his: “They say this part of town’s bad luck anyway.”

        “What you mean?” asked Carl.

        “I mean that’s why nothin’ was ever built over here in the first place. Every time someone buys up the land to do something with it, nothing happens. Projects get stalled, things go sideways and the place gets sold to someone else, or just sits there. Been that way for as long as I lived here anyway- the whole plot’s bad luck.”

        “Ain’t no such thing as luck.”

        “Yeah, that’s what you kids think. Ain’t no such thing as God, or angels or devils to you neither. Well, my pops said before that this land wasn’t even bad luck, he said the place was cursed, and that some devilry was worked here. He used to have a shop right down the way, and whenever he walked by here at night he would see things in the trees, strange lights and whatnot, and hear things too. He said he once heard a man laugh like he was right behind him, but when he turned round, no one was there.”

        “Bullshit.”

        “Alright, enough.” interjected Darius. Zeke’s ramblings had woken him from his stupor. The situation was going off the rails; it was time to take charge. “Look, nothing’s working today. Clearly, we have to check all the equipment before we get started and make sure it hasn’t been tampered with- just to be safe.”

        “All the equipment?” asked Mikey. “That will take all day.”

        “Better that then one of us getting hurt. Alright y’all, let’s get to it.”

        Their fortunes did not improve throughout the day. More problems were uncovered, and the issues with their equipment proved so varied and so numerous that the work dragged on hopelessly until, eventually, Darius gave in to his exhaustion. He let his crew call it quits for the day. They could start again tomorrow, and besides: he had decided to make a date with a cold glass of liquor.

        “I don’t get it. I really don’t. It just doesn’t make any sense.” Darius grumbled, eyes closed and resting on his pillow.

        “Well, I for one think you’re not giving this ‘Trees of Anarchy’ group enough credit,” answered María. She was lying next to him, mostly naked, with her nose in a book as she always did after sex.

        “They’re just a bunch of college kids from the suburbs. I doubt they have it in them to pull something like this. I mean we really got sabotaged.”

        “Regretting not getting that environmental impact statement?”

        “We didn’t have time. The job needs to get done, quickly, and I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on if I don’t get paid- not like them kids.” He grunted. “I don’t think those kids did this anyway. I think it was whoever wrote that shit on my door. That’s not the kinda move those teenagers would pull. Besides, I don’t see what’s so special about the land in the first place. Why would they care?”

        “Hm. Show me that picture again."

        Darius reached over to his nightstand, grabbed his phone and, after a few touches on its screen, passed it to María. She looked at it and frowned thoughtfully. Then she took out her own phone and began to type something. “What are you doing?” he asked.

        “Putting this into google translate…they have this ‘detect language’ thing. Hold up. Yeah, here we go. It looks like some of the words are…Icelandic.”

        “Icelandic?”

        “Yeah, give me a second. L.O.L. What the fuck.”

        “What, what does it say?”

        “I typed it all in, I had to double check my spelling, but yeah this is what it says.” she passed him the phone and Darius looked at the screen. The translated message read:

         “Do not disturb our home. Regards, The Black Elves.”

        “Their home? The ‘black elves?’ What the fuck is this about?”

        “I don’t know, but either it’s activists trying to scare you away from your job, or a bunch of bored kids playing a prank. I don’t know which one it is, but I have to say that I admire their creativity either way.”

        Darius sighed. “Damn kids playing viking and screwing with my equipment. What did I do to deserve this?” he paused. “Am I a bad person? Last I heard, there weren’t any endangered species living on the plot. There’s no historical landmarks or monuments. What am I doing that’s so wrong?”

        “Destroying one of the last undeveloped pieces of land in the city? Building a home for gentrifiers?” María looked up at Darius and, when she saw the expression on his face, her tone softened. “What they don’t see, though, is that you’re just a man doing his job and trying to survive. You don’t mean to hurt anyone. You have a good heart, you care about your team, you’re a nice fuck…”

        Darius grinned. “Damn right,” he replied. María smiled and put her head on his shoulder.

        That night Darius dreamt he was sinking into the earth. The more he struggled, the less he could move, and soon the dirt was swallowing his neck and head and pouring into his mouth…

        When he woke up the next morning, he kissed María on the forehead and put the images he had seen in his sleep behind him. As he walked out and shut the door, he noticed that the words from the day before had been erased. Instead there was a new message:

                  Ef fólkið þitt kemur aftur þá munu þeir spýta út lirfum.

                                                 Með kveðju,

                                                 Svartálfarnir

        “Now how the hell did they pull that off?” he asked himself. He stood there for almost a full minute, but as no one answered him he eventually pulled out his phone, took another picture and went into his truck.

        It was a warm, sunny day for autumn, but Darius felt as if he could not feel the heat of the sun. There was a coldness creeping through his car, seeping into his flesh, chilling even his bones. He pushed it out of his mind.

        He had a job to do. There was no stopping progress.

        By midafternoon, the team had repaired much of their tools. The tractor and the bulldozer would be out of commission for a few more days, at least, but the chainsaws and some of the lesser equipment were working like before.

        “Let’s take a quick lunch,” he announced. “We’ll start on these trees in thirty.”

        Darius walked over to his trunk and pulled a PB&J out of his glove compartment. He sat eating with his door open, listening to bird songs with an unfamiliar pang of guilt he attempted to ignore.

        While he was thus occupied, a part of his awareness drifted over to another debate between Zeke and Carl. They were good friends, despite the way they went for each other’s throats in arguments, and thus he was unperturbed by the intensity of their conversation.

        “We fixed most of everything, so much for bad luck huh?” chided Carl.

        “Shit, we ain’t out of the woods yet. I’m telling you this place is baaad luck.”

        Carl snorted. “I told you, ain’t no such thing as luck. Luck ain’t anymore real than fairy godmothers or Santa Clause. If you want to get something done, you either do or you don’t. Sometimes things happen you can’t control, sure, but that don’t mean you need to get all superstitious about it.”

        “It ain’t superstition. It’s an elder’s wisdom.”

        “Elders my ass! What you ever see that I didn’t?”

        “I don’t know. I just got a feeling. You ever just get a feeling, like some place ain’t right?”

        Carl laughed. “No, and I ain’t scared of this place or of any curse either. I’m telling you, there’s no such thing as curses. That’s just fairy-tale shit for…” Carl stopped suddenly.

        “Carl?” Zeke asked, “You okay?” Darius looked up. Carl had fallen to one knee and was clutching his stomach with both hands. His eyes were wide, and he was retching.

        Darius jumped up and walked over. “Carl?” he asked as well. He knelt until they were level with one another. Carl had a fear in his eyes that Darius had never seen in a grown man; he had the expression of someone cornered and pleading for life. He put a hand on Darius’s shoulder and opened his mouth to speak.

        “H…help,” he whimpered. Then he gagged.

        A little maggot wriggled from out of his mouth and dropped onto the ground. Zeke screamed. The rest of the crew left their lunches where they were and came running, but they each froze the moment their eyes met with the scene before them.

        Carl had tears in his eyes now, and more maggots were falling from his mouth as he gagged. They came out in little clumps, like forkfuls of noodles, writhing and white. “Call an ambulance!” Zeke screamed. “Call a fucking ambulance!” No one moved; it was as if they were all transfixed, hypnotized by the spectacle of their crewmate dragging himself along the ground, sobbing as fly larvae dispersed from between his lips. “Darius, call the fucking ambulance!”

        Hearing his name snapped him out of it. Darius whipped out his cell and dialed 9-11. As soon as he had informed the operator what was happening, he passed out to the sound of Carl’s sobs as the last of the maggots exited his mouth.

        That evening, Darius spent nearly an hour looking up Icelandic letters and words, attempting to transcribe what had been written on his door into google translate. After some time, he believed he correctly deciphered the message. In English, it read:

“If your people come back, they will spit out larvae. Regards, the Black Elves.”

~

        After a quick dinner, Darius made himself a cup of coffee and rolled three blunts filled with sativa. The coffee was to stay awake and the cannabis was for the same purpose, as well as to calm his nerves.

        He put on his jacket and hat and then got comfortable on his porch. Darius did not live in a mansion, and his home was not luxurious, but his house was still his house. He meant to protect it. María had called him a couple times, but he had not answered.

        His father’s pistol was tucked away beneath his shirt.

        Somebody had to answer for what happened to Carl that morning. He could not explain it; no one could. After they had watched the convulsing, sobbing Carl get loaded into the ambulance bed, they stood in silence for some time before Darius softly said: “Let’s go home.” Nobody uttered a goodbye.

               A cold gust of wind made him shiver. It would be a long night, but he would wait.

        The hours of nine, ten, eleven and twelve went by without incident. He listened, for the first time in a long while, to the chorus of crickets that lived in his front yard. An owl hooted nearby. He had forgotten any owls lived there. Maybe he had never known.

        It turned one. The wind picked up intensity. Darius began to shiver, and he pulled his coat tighter. This is stupid. What am I doing? A gun?

        The sound of a woman softly singing words he did not understand interrupted his thoughts. It was the loveliest voice he had ever heard, despite possessing a slightly mournful quality. Its melody and richness warmed his blood, making the cold melt away. The euphoria it brought on was slight at first, but it steadily grew until he was transported; the steps beneath his feet began to vanish, Darius began to soar, and he opened his soul up wide, letting the night and the dark pour in…

        In a few moments more he saw her as well. She was a tall woman, as lovely as her voice- if not more so. Her skin and her long, flowing hair, however, were an implausibly milky white, and her eyes were the hue of blood. They burned with intensity, boring through his flesh and setting his heart aflame. Her whole body glowed faintly with a pale iridescence, and she wore a long, sweeping blood-red gown, embroidered with patterns of gold and made of some fine material he could not identify.

        The stranger continued her melody. Darius sat entranced; he could not have moved, or reached for his gun, even if he had wanted to. He was held to the spot by the image of this visitor, whose beauty should not have been able to exist besides such strangeness. Her voice was honey; the whole of his body trembled with pleasure.

        The woman smiled, though not kindly. She raised her right hand, pointed at him, and spoke: “Veikindi. Níu dagar.”

        After she had spoken this, she did not close her mouth but let it hang open. A white-colored moth flew out, and then another. More came; singly at first and then two, three, four and five at a time. The woman began to sing once more, even though her lips did not move. As if on que, there was a swarm; hundreds of moths poured out of the woman’s mouth, making towards his head as though it were a beacon of light. Darius threw his hands before his face, attempting to swipe them away, but it was futile. There were too many. He could see nothing but the flapping of wings and the twitching of antenna. Their legs tickled his skin. He screamed.

        That was the last thing he remembered.

        He awoke on his front porch as the sun rose. His coffee had been drunk, and two of three of his blunts had been smoked. “Shit,” he whimpered. Then he vomited.

        Once he had finished wiping his mouth, he stood and looked at his door. Again, the words from the day before had vanished and been replaced with a new message in bright red ink:

                                 Veikindi í níu daga. Ekki koma aftur.

        With the help of his phone, Darius translated the message: “Sickness for nine days. Do not come again.”

        The stomach virus came suddenly. It was terrible; María had to stay away, work had to be delayed. For nine days Darius writhed in agony, barely able to keep food down, hot with fever and plagued by nausea and indigestion. There was a recurring pain in his abdomen that felt like someone was clawing their way out from inside him and ripping apart his intestines.

        The sickness had not just affected him, either; it afflicted half his crew as well. When he called Zeke to check in on the third day, the man sounded shaken. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” his crewman had told him, “I feel like I’m falling apart.”

        “Don’t worry,” Darius reassured him, “we’re going to be okay. Someone probably caught a virus a little while back and spread it to the rest of the crew. Give it a few days, get some rest and see a doctor if you need to. You’re gonna make it, old man.”

        “Yeah well, thank you. I sure as hell hope that land isn’t really cursed.”

        “Me too.” Darius laughed meekly as he said it, but there was no real humor in his voice. He was lying about the virus, though. No doctor had been able to tell what was wrong with him. His body was reacting to something, but the staff at the hospital couldn’t tell say what. They had found no discernable cause for his symptoms.

        They said it was mystery.

        Those nine days passed slowly. Each day the pain grew worse, until Darius could scarcely leave his bed. He vomited constantly. He struggled to feed himself and to get himself water. At night, as his stomach revolted against him, his pain mingled with hatred.

The last message did not disappear from his door, and he did not have the strength to attempt to remove it.

                On the ninth day, the sickness vanished. Darius woke refreshed. His sudden health was odd, but he was grateful nonetheless. The day before his employers had called; they had wanted to know about his progress and Darius didn’t have it in him to lie.

        His employers had not been pleased.

        So, with a renewed vigor, he dressed himself, made a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee, grabbed his hat, scarf and pistol, and walked out his front door. He turned as he left to see if there was a new message. There was:

     Ef þú setur fæti ofan á heimili okkar verður þér haldið föngnum í níu ár.

                Darius did not bother translating it. He walked into his truck and drove the thirty minutes to the work site, arriving just before sunrise. Immediately, he took his axe from his backseat. An axe was simple. All you had to do was to make sure the blade was firmly attached; other than that, it could not be tampered with. He checked the handle and walked onto the grassy dirt, cutting aside swaths of poison-oak and marching to the point of highest elevation within the plot. From there, he came upon a thick birch. It would do as good as any.

        Darius checked the horizon. The sun was just beginning to reach it. He lifted his axe.

        For a moment he stood there, unmoving. He thought of Carl vomiting up maggots. He thought of the moths swarming his face. He thought of his nine days of sickness, lying in bed.

        “Fuck you,” he said aloud to no one in particular.

        He brought down his arm.

        The axe never made it to the tree.

        Where Darius stood, seemingly a few moments before, there was now only a large rock of peculiar shape. It looked sort of like a man, if maybe a child got drunk and attempted to sculpt one from solid stone.

        His crewmen came by shortly after his disappearance to search for him, as did the police, María and some of his family, but Darius was never to be found.

        The crewmembers and a few of the locals questioned the appearance of the stone, but no one seemed to entirely remember if it had been there before. Regardless, it did not seem especially important. The housing development was scrapped, and nothing else was done with the lot.

        The stone stayed. Moss grew on it, then vines. A pair of crows made a nest in one of its nooks. Children and teenagers who came by at night, the former to play and the latter to smoke or drink, continued the legend of the lot’s curse. It was circulated through town that the stone, and indeed the whole plot of land, was haunted. It was even said that, sometimes, you could almost discern a man’s voice from inside the solid stone and, if you put your hand to its surface, you could feel a slight, barely perceptible tremor- reminiscent of a heartbeat.

        For nine years the rock stood there, mostly silent and devoid of human contact. Then, on ninth anniversary of Darius’s disappearance, the stone vanished. As no rational explanation could be found, the incident was simply ignored.

        To this day, if you go by the lot at dawn or dusk, or during the witching hours of the night, you may see strange lights flickering through the trees. There are voices too, voices of men and women singing and laughing- occasionally with a hint of melancholy. A select portion of those who lived there have heard and saw these things, though only an even smaller portion of them would admit it. One or two, who had belonged to his circle, even maintained that one of those voices sounded exactly like Darius’s.

        They were not wrong.

[spaceraspberries]

(The first chapter of my 18+ Undertale Fic ‘Monsterous Skeletonus’ is complete!)

(It’s gonna be a -very- slow burn, but there will be a whole lot of the UF Skelebro’s (G included!) in later chapters and a whole lot of eventual smut to go with it, even if the plot is gonna be heavier than a semi as it maps out 👀)

(Once I get it proof read fully I’m going to post it on A03!)

.................

‘Alright, alright! Easy now. We don’t need anyone breaking a leg, do we?’

‘Ugh, why do we need to go -all- the way down here? It’s not like the machinery for this shit doesn’t exist. I feel like a old school miner or something, y’know?’

‘Hey! That’s no way for a brave explorer to talk, Meg! Don’t you want to see what’s down there? Could be all sorts of cool, weird stuff!’

‘Like what? More rocks and dirt?~ Oh! Maybe some ‘sand’ even? Give me a break’

‘Guys, d-don’t start arguing. We’re going to be down here f-for a while so it’s best to get along~’

.................

The varying chatter of excited, muffled voices ringing down into the unknown, inky blackness of what was assumed to be a rather hidden among the weeds and rocks but still wide crevice leading into Mt. Ebott that had been only recently discovered, the forested area had been well scouted out over the past few weeks and had been mapped well so that the current team leading the charge wouldn’t have to contend with trying to figure out where their destination would be by sight alone.

The ‘team’, otherwise known as FTL (Future team leaders. A cheesy name if there had ever been one) were simply a group of third year Geo students who had been tasked with taking core samples from the innermost caverns of Mt. Ebott for substrate testing. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous job by any stretch of the word but it was good experience for the youngsters in terms of field work, the leader of the group of ragtag students, a rather burley, bearded man named Sean and his partner Gunter already being at the bottom of the cavern as they waited for the rest of his team to follow suit, the impatient Sean watching as Meg and Desmond, the third and fourth oldest on the team respectively, carefully sidled their way down the craggy rock surface, arguing all the way much to the usually cheerful but honest mans chagrin.

“The more you guys complain the more time your gonna spend down here getting the damn samples. We still have to set up camp too so I suggest you guys pick up the pace”.

A collective groan coming from the duo grappling down, Desmond and Meg soon reached the bottom of the dimly lit cavern while two other members on the surface still suited up, Terra and Mira, a pair of naive adventurers if there ever were any, looking seriously nervous as they prepared to begin the descent down into the unknown.

“You ready?”, Mira smiling nervously at the freckle faced Terra as her friend nodded back hesitantly, it was more often than not that Mira was the braver one between the both of them, Terra being more of the ‘I’ll just follow you for safety sake’ type ever since they were children and Mira often having had to assume a’leadership’ role because of it.

Not that she minded it at all though! If anything, the short-stack of a girl enjoyed leading her best friend through the forest and hills when they were merely kids, the both of them often fighting imaginary monsters and imagining what it would be like to climb the forbidding and dangerous Mt. Ebott that had the reputation of housing -real- beasts and all sorts of angry spirits for centuries.

Well, according to many a scary bedtime story it did at least, Mira no really longer believing such childish fantasies and thinking them about as real as a monster under the bed. The girl had always been terrified as a kid by the thought of some horrific creature climbing down the mountain and snatching her up in the night when she misbehaved, her being unable to look back at those times without laughing at how her own imagination used to run wild.

“Y-yeah, let’s just take it easy though, alright?”.

Terra blushing nervously as Mira grinned and the both of them began the slow descent down into the inner workings of the massive Mt. Ebott, the dark slag that covered most of the upper surface area soon gave way to crumbly, brown flecks of caked in dirt about halfway down that rained into the depths below at the smallest touch, the bright entrance to the surface growing smaller and yet smaller still as eventually it was merely a pin prick of light far, far above the teams head when Terra and Mira finally hit the weirdly soft and rather squishy ground beneath.

“See? We made it down okay~”, Mira helping to unclip Terra’s equipment as she could tell her fellow team mate was uneasy, she was used to Terra being a bit of a worry wart but she seemed to be especially unnerved today for some reason, “Told ya we would make it in one piece”. Sticking her tongue out playfully at Terra as the girl batted her hand away with a sigh once she was unclipped, Mira laughed as Sean meanwhile approached with bottles of water for both of them.

“Hey now! Looks like you made it all in one piece!~”, Sean smirking broadly as he playfully patted the nervous looking Terra on the back, the girl smiled small as she watched the others in the group already beginning to set their bags down alongside the smooth, stone covered walls of the wide, expansive cavern they had landed in.

The circular area where they stood being lit by a few torches that Gunter, a rather quiet short man that was second in command to Sean had placed around what would be their designated base area, it was easy to tell that whatever this place was it must have been pretty damn old, scraggy bits of moss and thick, thorny vines creeping up the strangely, almost ‘carved’ looking walls that were reminiscent of a oversized well in a way.

The dirt covered ground being rather soft and squishy as was mentioned previously, it wasn’t ‘wet’ but had the texture and feel of a half absorbed sponge that had been wrung out and left to dry, bits of dried plant matter, green and yellow, making up a bulk of the signs of life that had floated down from the surface to the seemingly lifeless cave over the years, a large pile of the shriveled mess having formed a rather neat mound directly below the gleaming entrance far above.

Meanwhile, the lack of hardiness in the soil was proving difficult for Desmond to drive the stakes for his tent into by his annoyed grunts and frustrated strings of cusses.

Nature wasn’t for everyone apparently.

A naturally formed but crooked arch towards the east appearing to lead deeper into whatever lay beyond the teams immediate landing spot, it was oddly convenient, almost as if it was beckoning anyone who fell or grappled their way down here to enter it and take a chance with whatever dangers laid beyond Its dismal, abyss like entryway.

Mira getting a bit of a odd vibe from the area as she decided to stick by her team mates side for now, there would be plenty of time to explore later, her taking a sip from her water bottle with a content sigh as Sean soon formed everyone in a loose huddle to discuss their next plan of action.

“Alright!”, Clapping a hand to get everyones attention as he visually assessed that his team was safe and sound, Sean held his constant, positive outlook proudly even as most of his members looked exhausted from the day trek up Ebott and grappling down here, “Now, we all know why we’re here, collecting samples and all that fun stuff. Of course, to avoid outside contamination from -that-“, Sean pointed upwards at the tiny prick of light to the surface above them, “We are going to have to do a bit of traveling inwards once morning hits!”.

“Oh! Does that mean we get to see how far all this goes?~”, Mira speaking up as she genuinely seemed excited about the possibility of traveling farther into the cave system, she ignored the sound of Meg behind her muttering something annoyed under her breath, “I hear some of these caves can stretch for -miles-!”.

“Andddd your exactly right, kiddo! Of course, we only need to collect samples unspoiled by outside contamination. We won’t need to travel too terrible far in for that, but I wouldn’t discount the idea of another trip down here if funding for this pans out”, Sean winking at Mira as the pint sized girl blushed and internally swooned, a intentional, rough cough from Desmond seemed to break the pair out of whatever little ‘thing’ was blooming between them as he motioned to the tents that still needed to be set up.

“Yeah, uh, a-anyways, another thing guys, I don’t want to see anyone wandering off either, got it? We have no idea where these caverns might lead and the last thing we need is to have to send out a rescue squad to find one of you. I’m sure everyone has heard the horror stories of those idiots who decide to go off alone and wind up wedged under a boulder or something”.

Sighing a bit awkwardly to himself as he seemed to get the hint across to his team judging from the murmurs of acknowledgement they gave, Sean was a natural leader and the head of this group obviously....but sometimes it was a bit difficult to get everyone on the same page, the only real ‘friendship’ between them all outside of being grouped students and cavers being Terra and Mira, two of the youngest mates among them.

This was going to be a long, difficult journey if they couldn’t all manage to find a common ground to communicate on, but at least in the end their mission was likely to prove successful now that they had arrived safely in the interior workings of Ebott as planned with barely a scratch.

Soon enough everyone would be back on the surface and they could all go their separate ways, but for now there was work to be done in terms of getting tents set up and dinner ready, the long hike just to get to the top of Ebott having been almost a full days worth of energy.

“Meg, you get a fire and dinner set up since Desmond already has the tents”, Pulling out a small note paid from his pocket as he scribbled something down while he spoke, Sean than looked at Terra and Mira as his usually eager eyes seemed to grow a bit more tense in thought as he rubbed his temple slowly with his free hand.

“And you two....Just...don’t do anything stupid, okay? We don’t want another Cauldron incident. That -especially- goes for you Mira, got it?”.

“Uh...yeah, y-yes Sir”, Mira blushing and nodding once as she glanced at Terra who now had a chance to smile and nudge her friend back playfully, neither of them particularly were proud of the unspoken ‘Cauldron’ incident but it was good reason for them to stay put and out of the way.

...........................

The team taking the next hour or two to set up tents and unpack gear, the plan was for a three day excursion to take samples from the depths of Ebott for both sediment and groundwater exploration. Of course, no one had really ever been -in- this mysterious cave system until now to map it out, the next few days having the potential to be longer or shorter depending on exactly how difficult the terrain proved to be to navigate.

By the time Meg had managed to scrap together a decent fire and everyone had settled down around it for a meal of rationed leek and potato Soup, the group seemed to be more than happy to simply have the chance to relax and take off their worn jackets and boots, The night sky far, far above them having the faintest sparkle of stars and moon mist to indicate the time of day on the surface.

Mira sitting to the left of Terra and near Sean on a blanket while Gunter sat near Desmond on the ground and Meg had perched herself on her bag, it could have almost be called a crude form of camping in a way if any of the said campers shared any sense of shared camaraderie.

“I’ve always heard weird things about this mountain, y’know? Things like ghosts and goblins and the like”, Desmond sipping his soup as he spoke with a sly grin, the flannel shirted man seemed to enjoy the way he made the nervous Terra especially perk up and shuffle ever so closer to Mira like a lost pup.

“How they especially like to eat little kids that wander away from home....Yeah, I bet they are just waiting to snatch some new prey up when they get a chance~”.

“Real mature, Des. I bet it took you all day to come up with that one, right?”, Meg rolling her blue eyes as the man continues to grin and simply drank his soup, Mira meanwhile seemed to be quite curious about what Desmond was getting at though as she suddenly became a bit more attentive.

“Well...I’m not a kid and neither is Terra, so we should be fine~”, Smiling lightly as she kind of wanted Desmond to continue talking about his little stories of what might be in these mountains, her gaze silently urged him to keep speaking as she let Terra cuddle close to her for warmth.

Desmond chuckling and shaking his head at Mira’s assertion that she wasn’t a child, he closed his eyes for a moment in thought, “ Nah, you don’t wanna hear stuff like that before bed, believe me”.

“B-but, I mean it, I’m really curious about -all- that kind of stuff! Cryptids, ghosts, you name it! I-I mean I don’t -believe- in any of it...it’s just, uh...fascinating I guess”.

“Mmm, I think he might be right, Mira. Besides, we should be hitting the sack soon anyways. Everyone’s got a big day ahead tomorrow”, Sean raising a brow at Mira’s apparent interest in what might be lurking around the inner workings of Ebott, his input seemed to only fuel Mira’s insistence in knowing more about what she thought Desmond was ‘hiding’ from her because he saw her as merely a kid.

“Come on, just -one- story?~ You can’t just lead me on like that”, Mira feeling Terra cuddle a bit closer to her even more so as she seemed to be persistent enough to convince Desmond to give in, the man sighed and put his empty cup down as Mira internally cheered that he seemed he was going to tell them more about his creepy tales.

“Alright alright, but only one, got it? Man, you kids these days know how to work a old mans feelings”.

........................

................

.........

Sleep coming easy for the exhausted group by the time Desmond had sufficiently managed to spook nearly everyone out with his tale of a creature called the ‘Crooked handed woman’, Terra had, as usual, decided to remain by Mira’s side even when they were comfortably safe inside their tents and was cuddled up next to her best friend once the group had decided to call it a night.

It wasn’t as if Mira minded much that the perpetually nervous girl wanted to share a tent, her honestly thriving off the warmth that the both of them being this close gave in this unnaturally cold cavern.

Desmond’s tale still ringing in the back of Mira’s mind as she fell into a mild sleep not long after getting herself comfortable, the thought of some old, crone like hag with skin like old onion paper and a twisted and gnarled hand with a ‘mind of its own’ was enough to keep her up a little after everyone else had fallen asleep, the occasional sound of what Mira assumed was dried leaves shuffling outside her tent instinctively making her cuddle up a bit more in her sleeping bag to feel smaller.

Yeah, maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to beg Desmond to tell his tale after all....

‘T-there isn’t anything out there! Stop being stupid and get your mind off of it already!’

Maybe Desmond was right to not want to tell his creepy stories when what she really needed was to sleep for tomorrows expedition deeper into the cave, Mira sighing a bit to herself as she watched Terra’s soft, unworried, sleeping face next to her own as she slowly tried to lull her body into rest as well.

............

......

-scerch scerch...scritch....~

‘W-what? What is that?’

Mira cracking her groggy eyes open after a minute or so of letting her mind rest, the sound of rustling ‘leaves’ outside of her tent had for a second or two became a bit louder than before, her senses instinctively going on high alert as she waited in silence to see if she wasn’t truly just going crazy from exhaustion.

...............

.........

‘scritch scritch....-c r u u u u n c h-

.............

The sound of what Mira could best describe as one of the Lit-A-Fire portable logs that had been put out by Sean earlier snapping slowly in half, the girls heart was pounding in her chest by now as it was more than obvious that someone, or some t h i n g, was out there just beyond her tent, her wide eyes focusing on the still sleeping Terra in front of her as she debated on waking her friend up to investigate.

‘No, she is just gonna freak out. Just stay put Mira...I-it’s probably just Sean or someone out there....’

............

-c r u n c h-

The sound of another one of the logs seemingly being split in half reaching Mira’s ears as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to panic, a odd tapping noise, almost like long nails clicking on stone, was a new sound to emerge after a few seconds of silence, the story she had heard from Desmond earlier returning to her already panicking young mind ten fold.

The old lady with her crooked hand and it’s long, gnarled nails....t-there was no way it was real, right?

............

.......

-tap tap-

A terrified, muffled squeak coming from Mira as she buried her head in her bag, the sound was now right outside of her tent as she felt Terra stir besides her, her not wanting to see who or whatever was attempting to seemingly try to get her attention as the front zipper of the girls shared tent opened rather slow and quietly.

“G-go away!!”.

Mira bolting up and slamming a pillow directly into the face of a most perplexed looking Gunter, the sleepy, heavy set man crunched his brow together as he put his hands up in a mock fashion to show he surrendered.

“Hey there, just calm down!”, Shaking his head once as he tried to speak quietly to avoid waking Terra, Mira blushed heavily out of shame as she immediately seemed to realize how stupid she had been to think that the kindly second in command to Sean had been some kind of ‘monster’.

“Was wonder’in if ya had the first aid in here. Kinda stepped on some of the logs while going to take a leak...and, well...”, Gunter running a hand along his hairline as Mira immediately went to hand off the box of medical supplies to the sleepy looking man that resided safely by the tent entrance, the pink blush she had sprouted didn’t leave her face as she sighed and retrieved her pillow she had thrown at him as well.

“Sorry bout that....”, Speaking quietly as she hugged the parcel to her chest, Mira was merely given a nod by the typically introverted Gunter as he went to zip the tent back up, her and the still sleeping Terra once again being left in the dark, Mira feeling like a total fool for letting Desmond and his stupid story get to her to the point of her actually thinking some terrifying beast had been shuffling about outside.

..............

........

-Scritchhhhhh~

Laying back down to -finally- get some much needed sleep, Mira paid little mind to the sound of what she assumed was Gunter bandaging up his wounded foot, her giving a mighty yawn as she wrapped a arm around Terra and-

..........

-B A N G-

.............

A heavy, extremely loud jolt rocking the pairs tent and apparently the others nearby as she could hear the sound of confused yelling and tired murmurs almost all at once, the startled Terra too blinked her eyes open as she gave a scared, confused look to Mira, her putting a finger to her lip to silently signal to the younger girl to remain quiet as she unzipped and peeked out of the tent to see what the heck was up now.

.......

-B A N G!!!-

A heavy, hot pressure nearly collapsing the heavy canvas tent in on both Terra and Mira as the girls let out a terrified cry of confusion as the fabric fell around them, Mira even under the mess could tell that Sean was shouting indistinguishable words to the others in a apparent panic at whatever was going on, Meg’s just as muffled, frantic pleas mixing in with his orders as Mira tried to yank Terra out from under their collapsed tent as another heavy bang and a sudden, strange whistling noise erupted around them again.

“T-Terra! We need to get out of here!!!”.

Terra, fearful tears streaming down her face as Mira grabbed a hold of her wrist while a bright flash of what could only have been described as a ‘ball of green hued flames’ slammed into the opposing wall nearest where Desmond and Meg’s tent had been, Mira squirmed out from the remnants of tent fabric as she didn’t bother or try to look at whatever or whoever was causing this havoc, her only instinct telling her to run as far away with Terra as she could while she still had the chance.....

Whatever was going on m-must have been some weird, natural cave phenomenon....that was the only real explanation Mira could come up with on the fly e-even if it made little sense logically....

Flames just didn’t shoot out of nowhere like this though.....but maybe since Ebott was rumored to be a long dormant volcano t-that had something to do with all of this?

As little sense as it made it was the -only- logic running through Mira’s imagination as she tried to block out the frantic sound of yelling and screaming back from base, the loud crack of a shotgun being added to the fray as Mira practically dragged Terra towards the archway nearby.

The dimness of the cavern making it nearly impossible for the pair to get their footing as the torches from earlier had been put out by Sean in anticipation of a good nights rest, Mira blindly ran towards the stone archway that led deeper into the yet unexplored inner cavern, her bare feet scrapping painfully along the much rougher, cement-like surface of the pitch black entry way into the unknown depths.

Her nearly crushing Terra’s wrist in her grip as she pulled the hyperventilating and crying girl along, the sound of the carnage from the base camp was now only a muffled, distant drone as the wide eyed and fully shocked Mira eventually stopped to take a breath once they reached a narrow alcove that was eerily silent and still compared to the chaos outside.

“Y-you alright?~”, Whispering softly to Terra as she held her sobbing friend close to her chest, Mira tried to shush Terra but it wasn’t doing much good, the easily terrified girl unable to calm herself as she clung to Mira tightly.

“I want to go -home-, Mira! Coming down h-here was a mistake! I -knew- it was a bad idea and now look what happened! We need to g-go back and help them!!”.

“I know, I wanna go home too....but I don’t think going back there is the best option right now”, Mira trying to give Terra a little smirk to lighten the mood but failing miserably, it didn’t help much at all as Terra simply broke out into a fresh round of sobbing, “We will figure this out, okay?~ I-I’m sure things aren’t as bad as they seem and we probably just over reacted. To be honest I bet this is one of Sean’s stupid pranks”.

“Thats -not- funny and you know that isn’t true!! F-for all we know Sean a-and Desmond and everyone else is hurt back there! I don’t know what happened but whatever a-accident or...-thing- tore up all our tents...but we are going to have to go back and help them!”.

The sound of the distant drone of chaos back from the base slowly growing less urgent as a unnerving silence began to replace it instead, Mira gave Terra a look that said to not even try it, her keeping her grip on her friends wrist as tight as ever.

“Listen...”, Mira taking a hold of Terra’s trembling hand as she tried to be the braver one between them, she sensed that the agitated girl was going to run off the first chance she saw to who knows where and wasn’t going to take the risk of letting that happen.

“Your going to stick with me until we can figure out what’s going on, okay? Going it alone in this place...seems a bit, uh, dangerous...”.

“B-but Mira!-“.

Mira letting out a deep, exhausted sigh as she shuffled Terra to her chest for comfort with the girls protesting, it was partially to avoid letting her see the nervous tears forming in her own eyes, Mira not being cut out to be a leader on the fly like this by any means.

“We need to see if there are any other exits out of here. I know this is scary a-and all, but I know you can do this, Terra~ I know your really brave deep down even if you don’t think it”, Giving her friends hand one last squeeze of determination as Terra seemed to brighten up slightly at Mira’s kind words, the darkness ahead of them seemed to be silently daring the inexperienced pair to take it on, there being no chance of going back now as Mira gave a slight tug of Terra’s arm to prompt her along into the unexplored and potentially hazardous new world, “We are going to get out of here together, I promise”.

Unfortunately for the unwary girls, the journey ahead of them wasn’t going to be easy and the chance of either making it back to the surface at all was slim, a certain green eyed, rather dirty furred ‘beast’ already being well aware of Mira and Terra’s presence~

[crypterion-moon]

Tiamat: Rise in Shadow p.2

Summary: He’s ended up in a new world, one that is surprisingly similar to his but everyone is so much younger. Tiamat, unable to resist his curiosity begins to observe, acting impulsively.

The Light realizes that they have problems concerning their operations

Tags: Violence, Gore

Tiamat's head was ringing, and it was damn annoying as well as slightly painful. It took a whole lot of effort and will to just open his eyes with his whole body screaming at him for the abuse. Not the first time, he told himself, had worse happen to him on Batman's watch. And then he realized there was a possibility he wasn't alone. His eyes shot open and he lifted his head enough to give the surrounding area a quick scan around before dropping back to the ground, face first of course. He felt as if he got kicked in the head by a horse, which was a close enough comparison given how hard he was hit. 

Fortunately it seemed like the Blight Hounds didn't seem to make it through or were dropped off elsewhere, hopefully somewhere far away, like a different dimension. He was about to seduce and kill a young man who would later become a gang leader as he'd been told by Oriviane, one of the oracles. Though it had nothing to do with Tiamat or the wraiths what his destiny would have been, his name was listed. He would die sooner or later.

It would have just been another night of ending someone's life with pleasure until they were suddenly ambushed by those damned monsters. Ambushes weren't all that unusual though it served to be a pain in the ass having to kill his targets before they ran off. Tiamat was always prepared for these moments and it wouldn't have been a problem if his psyche as well as his powers didn't decide to fluctuate right at that moment. It earned him a swat to the face from one of their malformed paws, and they were strong, if not smart.

“Damn, I hope they didn't scratch me,” Tiamat grunted, as his fingers came away wet with blood. 

He glanced at his surroundings, a thick but not unruly gathering of trees blocked much of Tiamat's field of vision like a forest, preventing him from seeing too much farther, but he could hear a the low drone of activity, human activity just beyond the edge of the spot where he stood. Tiamat followed the sounds, noting how oddly neat these trees were spaced almost as if...he reached the end to find wide open spaces filled with people either picnicking, strolling or playing, and beyond that was a city. Its buildings jutting up unpleasantly over the foliage. His portal navigation had landed him in the middle of a park in god knows where, again. In fairness, it was a stressful moment, trying to open up a door while fending of mutant mutts and no doubt, they must've been scattered over other realms. He really needed to get the hang of this before it sent him into somewhere much more unpleasant.

Strangely, as he kept passing through the thick growth of trees he could hear the sounds of civilization cars and voices, not too far away and as it turned out, he’d reached the edge of what turned out to be a reserved patch of forest. Now he was staring from under the shade, normal civilians passing by going about their business. At least he was sure he wasn’t on some god-forsaken hell. He was about to move forward when a sudden explosion erupted about fifty meters away. He flinched back into the cover and watched intently.

Through the throngs of screaming people, a figure emerged from the wreckage, large and imposing and an awfully familiar at that. It was Bane. Still duped up on Venom.

“Come out you spineless cowards, come out and face Bane!”

Good lord he was obnoxious as ever. Watching him thrash about like a child throwing a tantrum was almost comical. He took out a substantial chunk of the cement ground throwing it about, thankfully most of the crowds had retreated but he was posing a serious threat to bystanders. For now, it seemed that the only damage he was intent on doing was to the surrounding inanimate objects, smashing to be exact, unimpressive really. Then the drugged up criminal fixes his gaze on some unfortunate man on his way to work. Tiamat grinned. Perfect, he had some stress to work off.

Just when he had taken a step out, suddenly Bane was ambushed. Teenagers sporting colourful sets of powers and abilites. One of them, a green skinned boy morphed into a bull charging Bane relentlessly and recklessly. A young blond woman with a bow joined in, notching and releasing arrows effortlessly with near perfect aim. The flashy one dashed in to deliver a series of, flimsy punches. When it comes to Bane, nothing short of a strong punch will affect him, but somehow, Tiamat could feel that was merely to add to the distraction.

Something bigger was coming his way. 

Just as the thought materialized, a large black and blue jean mass came flying in, crashing into Bane with a loud thump and crack that definitely was the sound of a few broken bones. The villain was sent flying back from the impact while the recent addition to the fray watched with a triumphant expression, back straight, floating in the air with the symbol on his chest on display. A Super.

The sight of the S brought memories, slamming back into Tiamat .

“Hey Broody.”

Kon smiling as he hovered over him making terrible jokes about his height, his personality being not as colourful as his costume. Fighting together with their teammates against extraterrestrial terrorists. 

“You know he doesn’t mean that.”

Kon comforting him over his arguments and fights with Bruce and Jason. Hearing Kon’s voice beg him to come home again and again until he couldn’t hear him anymore. And when he finally opened his eyes, he was holding Kon’s head in his bloody hands.

Tim doubled over gagging, holding himself steady grasping a thorny vine that grew along the trunk of the tree, his hand so tight around it the thorns pierced skin and blood ran down his palm and the vine.

“Damn it, not now, keep it together...” he fought to keep the memories suppressed. Just then a giant crash spooked him out of the lapse and he looked up in time to see a huge Gorilla in a stupid hat flattening down everything In its way, with a machine gun to match. Following behind were what looked like a few hired goons, of course, why not. Bane always made sure to be stocked up on henchmen and backup.

This was however turning into a bit of a joke and Tiamat was getting bored of watching.

“Robin!” A slight figure leaped out of nowhere at the command, unleashing a whole arsenal of batarangs and smoke pellets. The flying pieces of metal successfully took down a portion of the goons while the pellets burst, enveloping the area in thick smoke. No one can see through it accept for Superboy but they had definitely planned this enough not to require visibility. Tiamat ’s suspicions were confirmed when the green shapeshifter charged right into the smoke, audibly knocking out more of the hired guns, both Robin and the archer jointly disabled the remaining men caught in the smoke. Bane could be heard roaring over the commotion, Gorilla sniffed and grunted. Suddenly, Superboy and a girl with a familiar symbol dived in, tackling the two. The team’s hard hitters best suited for tanks like Bane and the Gorilla. Tiamat guessed they must be this world’s Teen Titans, which meant he had to be careful who he came in contact with.

After a whole load of punching and kicking, the two villains were finally down, disappointingly enough, how boring. They began discussing something together possibly about whatever mission they were on while the blond with the lasso and the speedster began tying everyone up. Just then the  farthest man lying just a meter of where Tiamat was hiding got up and started sprinting off into the woods.

Tim watched the man as he made his escape into the darkness, soon noticed to be by the teens, his lips stretched into a sinister grin. He sat back on his haunches, preparing for the chase.

“Let the hunt begin.”

“We have a runner,” Nightwing sounded slightly fed up, his tone coloured with annoyance as he watched the last of Bane’s hired gun run of to the woods. No one could blame him, since it’s been a long day and no doubt, going to be a long night for him in Bludhaven, the wicked never sleep. So the team started off after him as the heavy hands came to take the criminals away for locking up. Kid Flash was definitely the fastest but not the brightest, and in an environment like a forest, odds were that he’d trip up or spend the whole day searching high and low for the man, so it was a good thing he wasn’t here or he’d run off not knowing where he was going or running into. Beast Boy had the right idea though, as a hound, he had the escaper’s scent. So they followed him into the thick growth. 

Finding him was actually harder than they thought, he had no tracker so all they could really rely upon was Superboy’s senses and Beast Boy’s ability to track as an animal, even then Connor couldn’t see past all the trees with his vision and Garfield lost his scent a few times.

“He must be in the deepest part of the forest by now,” Artemis said.

“Keep searching, if he’s going back to base this could mean finding the ones responsible for the meta-trafficking,” Nightwing ordered.

“He could be headed towards the docks, it’s the quickest and closest way out,” Robin said, it made sense and Nightwing agreed, it was the only other place that anyone could find a way to get off the island. As they got nearer to the docks, Superboy stopped all of a sudden, his teammates stopped as well.

“Superboy, what’s wrong, is-” Wondergirl began to say when he shushed her, his ears picking up whimpers and sobs and some frantic words that were to muffled for him to hear properly. But he could tell which direction.

“Over there,” he said, facing in the direction of the sound just off to the side to where the docks were, .

They followed Conner to what looked like the deepest part of the forest when he faltered and bent over looking shaken.

“What’s wrong,” Nightwing asked, checking him over with concern.

“Someone screamed and it wasn’t any scream, I mean a real scream,” Connor looked up and around, panicked, “I can’t hear him anymore.” 

With this disturbing reveal, Nightwing and Robin both took off in that direction, with the others following after Superboy had recovered. Beast Boy was in the lead again, with the scent strong this time and they ventured on before Garfield started yelping, then, the smell hit them hard, the smell of blood and urine.

“Oh my god,” Artemis let out a hoarse whisper.

Everyone stopped, their mouths hanging open in shock. The corpse lying before them was definitely their runner, but he wasn’t going to be answering questions or going anywhere but the morgue. His limbs stuck out at odd angles like he was flailing about so much they were arranged haphazardly, his uniform was ripped open and so was his throat. The chest area bore several gashes. Right arm ripped off and legs punctured. He looked like he’d been mauled by a savage animal except, no animal can make such clean cuts as the ones on his chest, the claws must have been thin, needle like. His mouth hung agape with terror and he must have been scared enough to wet himself with the darkened patch on his pants mixing with the blood that was now seeping in, staining the grey a darker shade.

“Wha- who could have done this?!” Cassie gasped. Nightwing took a tentative step forward, he’d seen bad things in Gotham but never something like this here. Something had made it’s way on the island.

He looked back to see Robin had also followed his movement but he seemed to be on the verge of getting sick, he was too young to witness something like this. Nightwing didn’t want to baby him. Working as Robin alongside Batman meant being in the middle of things like this but still...he glanced back at the body. This was too horrible.

“You guys, go back to HQ, call Batman, tell him we’ve got an issue, possibly something worse than the crisis at hand,” he ordered the rest of the team, “Robin, look at me, I know it’s going to be hard but go back with them, take the rest of the day off.”

“But I-.”

“Listen to me, Tim, I’m not putting you off missions because I think you’re not up for it, but I’ve had something like this happen before and it isn’t something you can just shake off, take it from a guy who tried winging it,” Dick gave him a wry smile, “Go home you earned it.”

Both Nightwing and Robin looked at the tattered remains, “I don’t think it’s exactly safe there right now.” 

Batman was waiting for them when Nightwing and a few others were finished assessing the situation and had returned to their new cave headquarters. The mountain they had once called base was demolished and smoothed over but in the process of retrieving precious components the had managed to unearth tunnels and caverns formed long ago when lava still flowed here.

It was almost like the old one, well, technically it was, or rather an extension of the old cave.

Batman was tapping away at the computer when they finally arrived.

“I’ve heard a lot about what happened, report.”

Aqualad, Blue Beetle looked rather ill, Nightwing wasn’t happy to have dug his hands deep into the case. 

“Nothing good,” Dick said as he produced a image storage card from one of his compartments, and slotted it into the computer then turned to the rest of the teens gathered around watching curiously, “If any of you guys just ate and don’t have the stomach for this, you might want to look away, especially you Static.”

“I think I’m cool, I’ve been working on this team for a while.”

None of them seemed to be able to look away and Nightwing raised a brow questioningly but relented, “Suit yourself.”

The series of images that popped up on the screen were...hard to digest. The first image of the dead gunman in the woods was obvious, to some but there were more, far more to come. And they got bloodier and bloodier, multiple bodies piled upon each other or strewn around warehouses, corridors, missing limbs, missing eyes, throats torn, one had his skull crushed and a few sliced cleanly in half. All merciless, and brutally killed. All in the same uniform. 

Some retching could be heard in the background, a few of the teens’ eyes had gone wide and forced to look away. Even Superboy, claiming to be fearless didn’t find it easy to be seeing this. Bart grimaced.

“We can assume that this was the base where our runner was going to and whoever, whatever got to him got here first, from what I can tell there were no survivors.”

“Oh god,” M’gann’s voice was merely a whisper.

“Have you determined who they were working for?”

“Only that the hired muscle belonged to Luthor and the whole operation was headed by Bane. The base located just a few miles off the coast was built overnight, it’s supposed to be temporary. That’s how they got so many guys to infiltrate the island. Today was supposed to be the first wave, scout and weaken we know the Light is pulling strings again and they were planning to completely take out the Young Justice.” 

“The full attack was scheduled two days from now, a whole army coming at us...there were a lot of people stationed at that base.” 

Nightwing looked visibly shaken, but he collected himself enough to give the rest of the report, “That’s all the information I was able to recover from their smaller caches, along with the shots we took of the scene but the rest of the data that was in their main computer, is gone, no messages, no videos, all taken or destroyed,” Nightwing looked grim. 

Batman narrowed his eyes and turned back to the screen, scrolling through the images stored on the memory card. The info explained only a portion of the operation but nothing on what transpired there, no indications of unusual activity, which meant that whatever happened, happened suddenly and quickly. His mind racing through a million possibilities, scenarios, potential suspects who wanted in on this operation or just to sabotage it. Joker was on the list, even if he worked with the Light before, he and they both knew he was a wild card of sorts and could turn easily on any one. But this…

Beside him, Robin had taken a step forward analysing each photograph, the investigator inside of him pushing past his queasiness to work out all the clues and Bruce didn’t miss a single moment of that.

“Whoever did this knew what they were doing, but it wasn’t exactly planned, no, I think it all started with the runner,” Batman said.

“How can you be sure?” Aqualad questioned.

“No prior reports of related activity and in such a short time period starting, with your fight with him he’s done a lot of damage,” Batman continued before Jaime cut in.

“Wait, he?”

“Just one person?” Artemis added.

Batman gave Robin a look, body language he was trained to understand, by now, he’d analysed all that he could in those shots and was already organising them into vital information in his head, he started, “There’s blood on the floor that doesn’t match the shape of any of the men in the photos, it’s distinctly male given the size of the footprint, and it can’t be female as the toes are not narrow enough. The back of the print is narrower so the heel must be high, that alone separates it from the any one of the Lex’s men.” 

“Plus there are some distinct marks in front of each print, they look like dots but on closer inspection,” Robin zooms in on one particular print showing a print with several patterned holes in the front, “Our...killer has clawed feet.” 

“Whoa,” Bart said.

“What the hell could that be?” Static threw up his hands frustrated in the riddle talk, “Our mystery guy has clawed feet and is wearing high heels? Apart from fashion statement, is he human? Meta like us?”

Batman and Nightwing exchanged looks, everybody just looked worried.

“You’re thinking something else aren’t you.”

“Without further investigation we don’t have much to go on, but our gut instinct says the same, someone, something has made it here.”

“And whoever or whatever that is, is extremely dangerous,” Nightwing warned.

“Are you even sure it’s just the one guy?” Kon asked.

There was a pause, Batman turned to the screen, scanning the pictures of mutilated and half eaten bodies littered across it, before he answered, “With this kind of carnage, let’s hope we’re just dealing with one threat and not an army.” 

Meanwhile at Lex Corporations, news about the massacre had reached Luthor, and he was not amused. He sat at his desk scrolling through the reports and the images attached, articles that were published days before. He cared little about the men he hired to do his work but was no savage and seeing the aftermath of the attack, he could only conclude it was performed by one. He could put the blame on a few named psychopaths but wild guesses may not help his case. The announcement given by the Batman claimed that it was both a calculated move and a spur of the moment impulse. The  So now, he had a rabid but logical killer on his hands, probably headed for him. With nothing to help identify them it could turn out to be any one person or maybe more, he’s had attempts on his life but it helps to know the suspects, Arsenal a most recent example but a missile is easy to see, easy to counter. From what Lex could tell, this one will give no warning, far too unpredictable.

“Mercy, make the call, our protective measures won’t be enough I’m afraid,” Luthor said. His bodyguard immediately took out the phone to begin dialling, “I have a call to make myself.”

“So, you’re saying that you’re being hunted, why am I not surprised?” Klarion smirked.

Luthor cocked an eyebrow in response to the jarring comment but continued, “If I may continue, it is but a theory, the only thing that causes doubt is the suddenness of the incident. I’d rather be safe than sorry that’s all.”

“A few dead men and you’re concerned?” the Queen mocked lightly, “How very unlike you.”

“Simply cautious my dear, unlike some,” Luthor shot back, making the woman wrinkle her nose slightly but comment no further.

“Now, now, no need for us to argue over such matters, I understand how important it is to be vigilant, Luthor. You have our support. Let’s hope this setback doesn’t last too long,” Vandal said.

“Thank you, I’ll lay low for a bit, in the meantime we should end the threat while it’s still early.”

Klarion hummed in playful doubt, “I dunno, maybe whoever this is could be fun to play with. They’ve caused quite a stir everywhere.”

“Oui, perhaps this newcomer will make a good ally,” the Brain said in his heavily accented English. Lex looked doubtful, as the Queen but both Savage and Klarion seemed open to the idea, Klarion more so with a glee in his eyes. As long as chaos was involved anything would be enough to keep the boy happy. Though the other members were uncertain, a little bit of investment could go a long way. With both Black Manta and Ra’s unavailable to comment, the majority voted on watching the newcomer first, see if there was anything he could offer and act when the moment was right. 

“Let us observe for the moment, we shall soon see if he can serve the Light.”

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs 45: The Escape

Cover art by @paradigmparadoxical​

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

Belle is free

Read on AO3

When Belle awoke, the late morning sun gleamed through the eastern windows. For the first time in ages, she smiled when she opened her eyes. For the first time in ages, she was glad to wake up. After stretching out her arms and legs, Belle hopped out of bed. She felt refreshed and ready to face the day. 

Before she sat down to breakfast, Belle changed her bloody rags for clean ones. Then she went to her table and put her hands over the magic bowl. She thought of warm porridge, sweetened with raspberries and cream. The bowl provided as it always did, and Belle ate heartily. 

When she was done with her meal, she decided to dress for the day. She would dress properly, too. She hadn’t worn her stockings and shoes since the day Rumpelstiltskin had given them to her, but now she put them both on and felt all the better for it. She wore the blue dress as well, tying up the stays at the bodice.

Amazing how much it all helped her feel more like herself. In these past few weeks of wallowing in her sorrows, Belle had neglected the simple routine of caring for herself. From now on, she knew, it would be best to get up when she awoke, to eat when she was hungry and stop when she was full. She would put on clothes that made her feel like she was ready for the day. If she did that, perhaps every day would have her feeling as good as she did now. In this moment, there was a vitality in her that she had thought was gone forever.   

As a final touch, she even put on her mother’s necklace. With her eyes closed, Belle ran the pendant of unicorn horn through the fine golden chain, just like Mama used to. She took a deep breath and set to cleaning up.  

She checked to see that her bedsheets were free of stains before she straightened them over the mattress and folded her blanket neatly on her bed. There wasn’t much that needed to be set to rights in this room where magic held sway, but Belle felt better for making an effort. 

The shelf over her pillow was overstuffed with books, stories she had already read and had meant to put away for days now. With a good-natured huff at her past self, Belle picked up the stack of books and carried them over to the wall by the door. 

Most of the books in her arms were horror stories. She had read tales of other people’s misery to distract herself from her own, or to feel the suffering resonate inside her own soul. There was a dark comfort to be found in such things. These stories helped her know that she was not alone in spirit, even as she was utterly isolated in body. 

But she didn’t need them now, not today at least. These books could be like the dinner knife that was still hidden in one of these shelves--a means of last resort, that she could be grateful she would never use.

Seeking comfort, Belle’s free hand went up to the necklace at her throat. When Rumpelstiltskin had given it back to her, he’d said it was to show that she was her own again. Of course, he’d said that mere minutes before ordering her to stay in the library forever and never pleasure herself again. For a long time, she had thought his declaration of her self-ownership was nothing but a cruel irony. But now she understood him a little better. She was her own, even in this prison. The Dark One had condemned her to this fate, but he could not control what she did with it. That lesson had been a long time in coming. She probably wouldn’t have realized it at all if she hadn’t been able to bring herself pleasure last night.

The last book in her stack fell out of her hands with a thud.

“No,” Belle whispered to herself. “No that can’t be right. I’m…” She looked down at the cuffs. They were loose on her wrists, the bands looked thinner than ever before. They were still golden, but they had never looked so much like stalks of straw. If an object could appear frail and sickly, the cuffs were surely on their deathbed.

“It can’t be,” she said out loud. With shaking breaths, Belle ran her hands over her blue dress and cupped her mound over the layers of cloth. A month ago, the cuffs would have pulled her hands away. But last night she had touched herself. Last night, she had brought her body to a trembling pleasure. 

Last night, she had disobeyed Rumpelstiltskin’s direct order. 

“What?” The word was as soft and half-formed as a breath. Belle’s thoughts ran faster than her mouth could articulate. What did this mean? What had happened? Why had the magic failed?

What other magic wasn’t working anymore?

Belle’s eyes flicked to the door, but she backed away from it slowly. Instead, she forced herself to breathe, to stay calm, to not get too excited, as she walked over to the stairs. She went up to the window and pulled the lever so it opened. The scent of spring came through with the fresh air. It smelled like growth. It smelled like hope. 

The cuffs had kept her in the library. They had prevented her from even sticking her head out the window. But that was before.

Now, tentatively, Belle splayed her hands and reached out through the window and  into the open air. She felt the tingle of the protection spell against her skin, the spell that kept everything out.

But nothing kept her in.

Her breath now came in pants--in heaving, dry gasps that were all of them both a sob and a laugh. Nothing kept her in! The cuffs were useless now! She was--she could be--!

Without another thought, Belle ran down the stairs to the door. Both hands gripped the handle and she turned it and it opened. Laughing now, giddy beyond imagining, Belle swung open the door and bolted out of the library like a djinn freed from its lamp.   

Again, she felt the protection spell tingling around her, but nothing held her back. There was nothing from the cuffs, not even the slightest pull. Belle ran and danced through the hallways, passing room after familiar room. The castle was her home and she had been kept away from it for too long. But she was home now. She was back!

It was only when she came upon the dining room that her exhilaration dimmed. Rumpelstiltskin’s chair was pulled out from the table, as though he had just been interrupted. On the corner of the table closest to where Belle stood, there was a leather bag. The leather was soft and light brown. It reminded her of his loosest-cut trousers, his most comfortable-looking boots. There was a blue ribbon woven around the edge of the bag, the same blue as Belle’s eyes, the same blue as the dress he had given her.

Belle picked the bag up by its thin straps to examine it better. A design had been worked into the front flap--the image of a blooming rose on a thorny vine. Somehow, Belle thought that this bag was meant for her. When she pulled back the flap and saw the contents, she knew she wasn’t wrong.

The first item she pulled out was a travel cloak. Light blue and yellow threads were woven together to make a pattern of green leaves in the heavy fabric. She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it with silver clasps at her neck. A hood gathered behind her head. Though the cloak was warm and durable, it was light on her small frame. The hem ended below her skirt, but well above her shoes. This lovely thing wasn’t going to drag on the ground and get muddy. It fit her as though it had been made for her. There were slits in the cloth for her arms to come out and, near the arm holes--pockets! Belle stuck her hands in the pockets and twisted her body back and forth for a moment, enjoying the swish of the fabric following her movements.

There was a pair of red leather gloves in the bag as well. Belle tried one on and found that it fit her exactly like a glove was supposed to. The cuffs were now so wide that she could pull them up her arm and then let them fall back down over the gloves. The leather on her hands was loose enough for movement, but tight enough for her to keep control. In her father’s castle, the glover had despaired of Belle’s tiny hands, saying that she would be better off with a child’s mittens than anything made for a grown woman. But these fit perfectly.

As perfectly as magic could make them.

Pressing her lips together, Belle looked into the bag again. There were several wrapped bundles, a piece of black parchment, and a cloth pouch that tied with a drawstring. She left those things alone. Altogether, there was much more in this bag than should ever have been able to fit.

The last thing Belle took out was a pair of walking boots. They matched the gloves, rich red-brown leather that would compliment her hair. In the spirit of experimentation, Belle sat down on the floor and took off her blue shoes so she could see how these boots fit. 

Of course they were perfect. There was no need to break them in, no question that they could ever be worn by someone else. They had been made for her feet. Everything she wore had been made by a man who had intimate knowledge of her body. He had measured her with his gaze a thousand times, had held her hands in his hands so often that he knew the shape of them--even after all this time. Rumple had made her clothes that suited her beautifully, that matched her eyes and her hair and her skin. He had made these things for her. He was giving them to her.

He was equipping her to leave the castle.

The thought struck through Belle like an arrow tipped with poison. Black dread spread out from her heart and filled her completely. That was it, wasn’t it? He wanted her to leave. If she wouldn’t stay in her prison, he was giving her the opportunity to go elsewhere, anywhere, as long as it was away from him.

“Oh, you bastard,” Belle whispered. “Do you think you’ll be rid of me that easily?”

She tossed her blue shoes into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. Of course the bag weighed nothing. She turned on her heel and stormed off to find Rumpelstiltskin.

Since he wasn’t in the dining room, the surest place to find him would be in the tower where he spun his precious straw into gold. On the landing before the tower, she passed the twin bedrooms--one luxurious and unused, the other mostly destroyed in anger. He had never taken her to either one. When the cuffs had worked, they had kept her from even entering the angry room. Even when she had been utterly at his mercy, Rumpelstiltskin had protected her from the worst of his rage.

Had he ever thought he would need to protect himself from her anger?

The door to the tower opened without resistance. Even from the bottom of the steps, she heard the whir of his spinning wheel. With a deep breath, Belle started up the curved staircase. 

Pure habit made her stop just before the last step. Before, she wouldn’t have dared to invade Rumpelstiltskin’s space without an invitation. She used to hate disturbing him. She was still cautious, even now. Even as her fury steamed off of her, even as the fact of her standing there was an act of defiance. 

His back was to her. He sat at the wheel in front of the windows--windows, Belle now realized, that matched the ones in the library. The bobbin on the spindle was only just starting to fill with gold. He spun from dawn until dusk and he didn’t like to be interrupted. It was how he measured time, how he forgot about his troubles. 

But Belle was one trouble that would not be forgotten. Boldly, she stepped over the threshold into his room. 

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she announced her presence stonily. So many people were afraid to say his name, afraid to call on him and invite him into their lives. But Belle had been calling him for weeks without answer, until she had given up hope and despaired and blamed herself for his cruelty. But no more.

The wheel stopped. The Dark One twirled around on his stool to face her. 

“Ah!” he said with artificial brightness. “You’ve finally escaped! How clever! Well done, dearie!”

Dearie. If he had struck her across the face, it would have been less of an insult than that stupid false endearment. Belle squared her jaw. So that was how it was to be. That was how he wanted to treat her, after everything they’d been through. Once, she remembered, he had called her sweetheart.

Belle’s gloved hands balled into fists as she took a step closer. 

“I disobeyed you, Dark One.”  

His face remained an impassive mask, the image of a demon grinning in perverse pleasure. “Had to happen sooner or later!”

She took another step toward him. “Do you care?” she asked. Her voice sounded leaden, heavy with all the meaning that went unspoken. “Do you care that I broke your rules? I disobeyed your order, Rumpelstiltskin!” His name came out as a strangled shriek.

But his expression didn’t change. He stayed nonchalant as he shrugged. “That’s not a game worth playing anymore.”

Belle’s mouth fell open, her anger momentarily quailing under the force of her despair. Not worth it. He admitted it. He said the words that she had wrestled with for all those weeks in the library. She wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want her anymore.

Bastard! 

Her anger resurfaced as quickly as it had vanished. “Why did you lock me away? You could have let me go if you didn’t want me. You could have turned me into a fucking snail and squashed me! Why did you leave me alive and alone and helpless?”

He was still for a moment. His smile stayed the same, though his head wobbled like a toy on a spring. “Hardly helpless,” he said with the same false brightness. “You survived! You weren’t even there that long! And now it’s all over and all will be well!”

It’s all over. Blood pounded in Belle’s ears. She shook her head and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill over and drown her. She shouted instead: “What is this? Why are you doing this to me, Rumple? What the hell is going on?”

Leaping to his feet, the Dark One struck a theatrical pose. “Why, it’s a happy ending, of course! The virtuous heroine breaks the enchantment cast upon her by the monstrous villain! She escapes from her prison and goes out into the world, to have more adventures in the great, wide, somewhere!” He snapped his head to look at her, his eyes sharp and glaring. “Isn’t it grand, dearie? You’re free!”

Belle gaped at him. “What?”

“The spell is broken.” He gestured at her cuffs, thin and useless on her wrists. “No magic binds you anymore. You may go anywhere and do anything you like. You. Are. Free.”

“Free,” she repeated slowly. Her body began to tremble, all her emotions too much for her to control or even comprehend. He was setting her free--but freedom meant she would never be with him again. “But what about our deal?”

The Dark One shrugged, waved his hands dismissively. “It’s done with. The service you’ve put in has been more than enough to pay for saving your little town.”

“But...” Belle’s voice shook. “But you made me promise to go with you forever.”

“Well, I’m altering the deal! I can do that!” The sing-song tone did little to conceal his irritation.

Belle stood in the center of the room, her brow furrowed, her mind reeling as she tried to understand. Why was Rumple letting her go? Even if he didn’t want to use her, he still owned her, didn’t he? Deals with the Dark One were binding down to the very soul. And he was just… giving her up? Like she was nothing?

“But I love you,” she whispered, too overcome to even think of denying it anymore.

And it was true. The fire in her heart had burned down to ash and embers, but there was still a spark that loved him. If Rumple wanted to, he could fan the flames and build up the fire again. If he apologized, if he explained himself, if he treated her with kindness, if he acted like he loved her in return--then Belle would gladly give her heart to him again. If he just told her that he wanted her heart, if he just promised to treasure it, it would be his.

Instead, the Dark One grimaced. He looked repulsed, disgusted by the idea of love, by the idea of her. As he looked at her longer, his disgust turned to pity. Somehow, that was worse.

“Of course you do.” He sounded about to gag. “You are a loving creature, and you were desperate for companionship. If I had enchanted the teacups and candlesticks to talk to you, you would have fallen in love with them!” Giggling, he turned away from her, standing at  his wheel but not yet spinning.

Belle clenched her fists again. She took a step toward him. “Is that what you think? Is that what you think of me? Of yourself? Of--of what we had together? Because you cannot deny that there was something there!”

He didn’t turn around, so she went on.

“And it was more than just pleasure. And it was more than just my loneliness. You were lonely too, don’t deny it! You enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed yours.”

He said nothing. His back was to her, unmoving as a closed door. 

“We were happy,” Belle said softly. “We could have been happy together for a long time. We--” she shook her head, feeling foolish even to imagine such things. “We could have belonged together.”

At that, Rumpelstiltskin sat down at the spinning wheel, picked up a handful of straw, and began to spin. Belle watched him for a moment, her blood pounding in her ears.

“Or perhaps you’re right.” She swallowed down her bile. “Perhaps I’ve been wrong about you this whole time. Perhaps there are no layers to you, no mystery to be uncovered. Perhaps there is nothing more to you than an empty heart and a chipped cup.”

He didn’t respond. She wanted to run up to the wheel, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. She wanted to force him to look her in the eye and tell her the truth. She wanted to hurt him--physically would be best, but emotionally would do in a pinch. 

But she stayed still, unwilling to let her passions rule her. If the Dark One’s chosen weapon was coldness, then she would show him they were equally matched. 

“If I’m not worth the price to you, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said with solemn dignity, “then you are not worth it to me.”

She turned to go, but after three steps, she heard his voice: “Wait.”

Belle stopped. Slowly, her heart pounding, she turned around. “Yes?”

 He was still at the wheel, his back to her. One hand twisted the straw, but the other was extended out. One scaly finger pointed at the worktable, at a small glass vial.

“You may take that,” he said stiffly. “One last recompense.”

Curiosity outweighing her anger, Belle strode over to the table to examine the vial. She picked it up in her gloved hand and saw a collection of coarse powders half-filling the glass. She had seen this concoction before.

“It’s the memory potion,” she said quietly. “The cure for a broken heart.”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t look at her, but he did nod. “You should add three of your hairs, and then fill the bottle with clean water. It works best if you drink it slowly, over the course of one day. When you wake up the next morning, everything I’ve ever done to you will be nothing but a bad dream. You can forget everything.”  

Belle was aware of her thundering heartbeat, of the awful tightening in her chest as she looked down at the vial in her hand. Her leather glove squeezed around the glass, almost hard enough to break it. She wanted to break it. She wanted to see the evil thing shatter into a thousand pieces. 

Instead, she set it down carefully on the table.

“What about my scars?” She didn’t have enough air in her lungs for more than a breathy whisper. “There are marks on my body, permanent marks from you. Will I forget how I got them? Will I forget how you beat me bloody and sewed my flesh with gold? Will I forget how I lost my virginity, Rumpelstiltskin?”

He had stopped spinning, but he didn’t look at her. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders squared against her assault.

“How dare you think that I would choose to forget you! That I would cut out a section of my own mind just to ease your conscience!” Her breath was coming easier now, words and volume pouring from her in equal measure. “How dare you ask me to forget that I loved you. Do you know me so little that you think I would want such a thing? Do you--”

She cut herself off. He wasn’t listening to her now, no more than he had been while she was in the library. And Belle would not beg for his attention. 

“You know what?” she said instead. “Keep it. Keep your potion. You can take it. You can forget me if you like, if it makes any difference! In fact, you can keep all of your magic! Keep your straw and your gold and your orders and your mysteries. Keep your pleasure, keep your games, keep your--”

Belle looked down at the cuffs on her arms. They were so loose now she had to be careful how she moved her hands. She had to fight to keep them on her wrists. 

But she wouldn’t fight the inevitable anymore.

With a weary sigh, Belle let her hands fall to her sides. The cuffs slipped off her wrists and clattered to the ground. She looked down at them, the thin, useless bands of gold that were really just straw. Everything had been just an illusion, and now the magic was gone.

It was all over.

She was free.

“You can keep the cuffs,” Belle said, as she turned away from the Dark One forever. “But I will keep my heart.”

****

After that it was all a blur. Belle ran down the stairs, tears clouding her vision, her cloak flapping behind her like a battle flag. She bolted out of the tower, through the dining room, into the foyer and out the door. Cruel words rang in her ears: That’s the way out, you won’t be using it! But she went through all the same. 

Nothing stopped her.

Belle stormed through the courtyard and the center avenue. The gates out of the castle were wide open, waiting for her exit. A dirt road lead down from the rocky mountain into forested hills. Belle let her legs carry her, comfortable in her boots as her mind seethed and raged and mourned.  

She spent a night in the forest, sleeping in the hollow of a fallen chestnut tree. It was only when she stopped moving that she began to wonder what she was going to do next. 

[featherymalignancy]

CHAPTER ONE—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

“In wine lies the truth”

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants. 

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now. 

Also, check out the masterlist for In Vino Veritas HERE!

Announcements: I know some of you are going to see and and worry “BUT WHAT ABOUT LIKE A LONELY HOUSE??” It’s coming, I swear. I was just really jammed up working on it and this was a way to relieve the brain bleed that LaLH was causing. But seriously, don’t panic, it’s coming. I know I’m not nearly as prolific as some of the more popular writers in this fandom, but I swear it’s because I’m just trying to get it right. Okay, now on with the show!

Chapter One: Cheval

Nesta Archeron had worked hard to get to where she was. She’d helped raise her sisters before putting herself through college and law school, and as a young associate she’d stayed at the office long after her contemporaries gone home. As a reward for her sacrifices—and the success they’d awarded her—Nesta always treated herself to  the best of everything. She wore the best clothes, dined at the best restaurants, and—of course—drank the best wine. 

That’s why she only ever bought from Merchant of Vino. Sure, it was a stupid name, but she’d done her research, and it was undoubtedly the best wine vendor in the Bay Area. They sold all her favorite Napa reds, and the owner was a man named Devlon who knew his stuff and never tried to look down her blouse.

Nesta was a person who thrived on routine—on ritual—and going to Merchant had become one of her favorites since arriving in San Francisco the previous year. 

That was, until the day said ritual was disrupted.

It had started out like normal: she got out of court in the early afternoon and battled traffic to North Beach, already considering what she would order. She hadn’t bought Spring Mountain in a while, and after the day opposing counsel had given her, she was in the mood for something thorny. 

The quaint little bell dinged when she stepped inside, and she took a minute to admire the familiar racks before glancing to the bar...

She frowned. 

“You’re not Devlon,” she said in greeting, and the man behind the counter—who looked to be in his late twenties— glanced up from the where he’d been shelving bottles and laughed. 

“Very astute; I’m not.” 

She crossed her arms across her chest. She didn’t like to be teased. She felt a stab of annoyance when he reached up to shelve a final bottle and she caught a glimpse of his ridged stomach and the making of an Adonis belt, visible above the waistband of his low-slung Jeans. She especially didn’t like being teased by attractive men. As an attorney, she got enough of that in her day job.

“I’ve never seen anyone else work here,” she clarified. 

She didn’t bother to sound polite, but if her tone bothered the stranger,he didn’t show it. 

He only shrugged, gesturing she take a seat in one of the well-loved leather barstools before leaning his forearms on the counter. They were as corded as the rest of him, and covered with what she recognized as Māori tattoos. 

“Then I guess it’s your lucky day: I know more about wine than Dev could hope to learn in ten lifetimes.”

When she only responded by pursing her lips, the stranger’s grin widened. Nesta fought not to admire him as leaned a fraction closer. 

With long hair tied back in a bun at his crown and heavy gold hoops in his ears, he was nothing like the clean cut and classically-handsome  guys she usually went for. Still, she couldn’t deny he was rather devastating. 

He was tall and broad, his powerful chest and tapered waist cutting an inherently masculine silhouette which—much to her chagrin—Nesta couldn’t help admiring.

His bronze skin and glossy dark hair spoke to the island heritage his tattoos had already hinted at, and his eyes…

Nesta didn’t want to dwell on how much green they had running through the ribbons of hazel, or how they glittered as they continued to study her. 

She sniffed and glanced down to adjust the watch at her wrist, if only to escape the fact she’d been checking him out, hard.

“That’s a rather lofty assessment,” she said finally. 

He shrugged. 

“It’s true.”

“Jury’s still out,” she shot back.

He gave a throaty laugh, taking the opportunity to look her up and down. However, it wasn’t in the leering way she’d grown accustomed to, as if she were a cut of expensive meat. He seemed to be taking her measure instead. From the way he smiled—teeth diamond bright against his full lips—it was clear he’d been satisfied by what he’d found.

“Challenge accepted. I’m more than happy to blow your mind, free of charge.”

She snorted, ignoring the potential double meaning. This felt dangerously like flirting, and if there was one thing Nesta Archeron never did, it was flirt. 

“You really think I’m that easy?”

His grin widened, and she rolled her eyes. Okay, fine, she’d walked into that one. Still, she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, and everything about this guy seemed to suggest he’d be a worthy opponent.

“Okay, maestro,” she said, setting her bag down and finally taking a seat. “If you’re so smart, pour me a glass of something you think I’ll like.”

He considered, biting his annoyingly-plush lower lip as he surveyed her again. It was more openly appreciative this time, but still never strayed below her chin.

“What do I get if I guess correctly?”

She gave him a deadpan look, the kind her male colleagues had suggested could melt flesh from bone. 

“A tip.”

He bubbled his lips in dismissal. 

“Woman, I don’t work here for the tips. I’d rather have your name.”

She considered, hating how much she was enjoying this. It had been ages since she’d had a decent sparring partner.

“Fine,” she said. “But know that if you’re wrong, I’m not giving you either.”

He only laughed before grabbing three glasses from where they hung on the rack and lining them up on the bar top between them.

“I’ll take my chances.“

He glanced back at her, drumming his fingers against his lips as he considered. He then pulled out three bottles, a white and two reds. When he’d poured a taste in the first two glasses and two fingers-worth in the third, she frowned.

“This is cheating.”

He only laughed again, eyes alight beneath his devilishly arched brows. They made him look dangerous in a way Nesta refused to admit suited him. 

“Trust the process,” he said, gesturing to the glass of white.

“Now, this is what you think I think you like: Rombauer Chardonnay out of the Napa valley. Aged in French oak with notes of vanilla and an earthy, buttery finish. Too rich to make a good sipping wine, but still an inexplicable go-to choice  for mansplainers trying to impress their female friends.” 

He paused to give her a roguish smile, which she rewarded with a shrug. He was right; she hated buttery chardonnays, but it was still what men always assumed she’d want.

He swished the the Rombauer before swallowing the small measure in the glass and moving to the next, a plum-colored red.

“This is what you think you want: Nickel and Nickel Cabernet. It’s complex and beguiling and just the kind of fleshy, bold California red a power broker like yourself is conditioned to love.”

She ignored the jab and picked up the glass, bringing it to her nose. She was greeted with the smell of dark berries and cassis, and it made her mouth water.

“You should have quit while you were ahead,” she said, throwing back the small measure and letting the taste envelop her palate. “Far Niente is one of my favorite vineyards.”

He just smirked, gesturing to third glass.

“Not so fast, because this is what you actually want. Chateau Cheval Blance from the St-Émilion appellation in France. A light structure, perfect in its tension between floral and mineral notes. Truly, this is terroir at its finest.”

She gave him a tight smile.

“I’m not a Old World wine person,” she said, pushing the empty Cabernet glass towards him in silent request he refill it. “Better luck next time on the tip.”

He responded by pushing the French blend towards her instead.

“Humor me.”

She pursed her lips before picking up the glass. She could smell dark cherries and wood smoke, and something floral that she couldn’t place but that was all the more tantalizing for its elusiveness.  

Begrudgingly she took a sip, and it was an effort not to let her eyes roll back in her head. It was silky, but not in the cloying way that Chardonnays sometimes were, and the flavor seemed to blossom, sweet plum giving way to dark berries and something earthy that had her toes curling in her expensive Louboutin heels. Truly, she wasn’t sure she’d ever tasted anything so divine.

He studied her reaction before flashing a wicked smile and leaning in. 

“So what’s your name, Gorgeous?”

Struggling to compose herself, she hastily set down the glass.

“I have a boyfriend,” she snapped. 

The man seemed undaunted by her declaration though, and if he noticed her sudden unease, he didn’t comment. Instead, he re-filled her glass before pouring one for himself.

“I have no doubt,” he said, touching his glass to hers so the crystal sang. “But that isn’t what I asked.”

She watched him as he took a sip, his throat working as he swallowed. Good Lord, he was handsome. 

She mentally slapped herself. She had a boyfriend, and perfect taste in wine aside, she shouldn’t be indulging this stranger in whatever game he thought he was playing. Tomás would be furious if he found out. 

This in mind, she settled for scowling.

The stranger laughed.

“It’s not like it matters,” he said, twirling the stem of his glass between long fingers. “Unless you’re a drug dealer who plans to pay cash for the case of Cheval of you are so obviously going to be buying, I’m going to see it on your card anyway. Besides, no one likes an oath breaker.”

She took another sip of wine to hide her smile. They weren’t flirting, she assured herself. They were just...talking. Talking was perfectly innocent. Tomas couldn’t get angry at her for talking.

The man waited, and eventually she relented.

“Nesta.”

“Nesta...?” He prompted, and she rolled her eyes.

“Nesta Archeron.”

He extended a hand.

“Cash.”

“Please tell me that’s a nickname.”

He only laughed in response.

“Are you always this charming, Nesta Archeron?”

His hand remained between them, and after a beat of hesitation she took it. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm the minute they touched, and she found herself fending off a flush as she tugged her hand back. Still, they remained close. Closer than she knew she should allow, even as she failed to pull back to a safer distance.

He watched with keen interest as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before meeting her gaze again and saying, “yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, it’s a nickname. Cash is short for Cassian, though I don’t think anyone’s actually called me that since my mom died.”

A pang hit her, a familiar ache that still wrenched at her ten years later. 

Without fully understanding why she was doing it, she blurted, “my parents are dead, too.”

He frowned for the first time since they’d met. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

It was an automatic response, the one she always gave to avoid people asking more questions. It didn’t feel like a long time ago, though. At least, the pain hadn’t dulled the way it should have. Some night she still caught herself wishing her mother were there to tuck her into bed.

“I’m still sorry,” Cash said, brushing her ring finger with the tips of his.

It was a feather-light touch—a gesture of comfort and solidarity—but it still had Nesta’s stomach knotting. She pulled her hand away and he didn’t fight her on it, glancing up to give her a soft look instead. 

“I know how hard it is, being on your own.”

Nesta bristled. 

“I’m not alone. I’ve got two younger sisters, and my—“

“—boyfriend,” he said, leaning back even as he smirked. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”

She couldn’t help it; this time, she flushed. However the look gave her said he had no intention of pushing the issue. 

She imagined what Elain would say were she there, and she grit her teeth before forcing out, “I didn’t mean to imply that you—“

“Don’t apologize,” he said, eyes glittering as they skated over her face again. “Beautiful girl like you, it...wasn’t a bad assumption. Still, you have nothing to worry about from me, I promise.”

She nodded, surprised to find a twinge or disappointment. She attempted to bury the feeling by shouldering on.

“So where is Devlon?”

Cash shrugged, folding his toned arms across his chest in a gesture his white T-shirt struggled to accommodate.

“He had to go back home to handle some stuff and I’d just gotten back to town, so I told him I’d watch the shop for awhile.”

“How long will he be gone?”

Cash grinned, taking another sip of wine. 

“Sick of me already, Archeron?”

She only pursed her lips in response, and he laughed.

“I didn’t ask. But long enough that you’ll get to see me again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His grin was a slash of white across his tan face, and she looked away to avoid blushing again. This was definitely too close to flirting for Nesta’s comfort. One more glass and she might—

“I should go,” she said abruptly, draining the last of her wine. “It was nice meeting you, Cassian.”

She picked up her bag and was halfway to freedom when he laughed. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

She turned back, and he gestured to the racks of wine all around them. When they made eye contact, his grin grew wicked. 

“Or did Dev already tell you his gorgeous nephew was taking over the shop, and you just came to check out the goods yourself?”

She grit her teeth, trying not to admire said...goods, especially the ones she could make out through his thin t-shirt and fitted jeans. 

“You’re an ass,” she growled, stalking back towards him. 

“C’mon, you love it.”

“Don’t make me gut you will my shoe. It’s impossible to get blood out of suede.”

He only laughed. 

“Why do I get the sense you’d actually do it, too?”

“Because I don’t make idle threats,” she snapped.

“I’ll believe that,” he said, eyes alight. “Alright, enough teasing, then. What are you looking for? Besides the Cheval, obviously,” he added, winking. 

She debated ordering three cases of Nickel and Nickel just to wipe the smirk off his face. However, she quickly decided it was an exercise in futility; he’d know why she was doing it, and the Cheval really was too divine to pass up.

“Yes, you insufferable bastard, I will have a case of the Cheval.” When he grinned in reply, she added, “And a bottle of Ferreira Garrafeira.”

He gave a low whistle. 

“That’s expensive stuff. And I thought you said you didn’t like Old World wine?”

“It’s not for me; it’s for Tomás.”

She could decide if she felt pleased or guilty when his smile slipped a fraction before recovering, too bright to be wholly genuine.

“Ah. the famed boyfriend, I presume. He’s certainly got...interesting taste.”

When she bristled, he went on hurriedly.

“In wine! Obviously his taste in women is...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. 

“Yes?” She said archly, not wanting to admit how much the comment had stung.

With sisters like Elain and Feyre, Nesta was used to being dismissed as the frigid, uptight sister. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

However, Cash wasn’t looking at her in that way men often did, as if she were some poisonous insect he was afraid might sting him. His expression softened.

“Impeccable,” he finished, and it was so unexpected she flushed. 

He cleared his throat before going to the computer behind the bar to consult the shop’s inventory.

“We don’t have the Garrafeira in right now, but I can order it for you. The Cheval is in the back.”

“Don’t worry about the port,” she said, regretting the outburst now. “He’ll—live.”

Cash turned, brows furrowed. 

“Are you sure? I can—“

“It’s fine,” Nesta repeated. “Thank you.”

Cash nodded and disappeared into the back before reappearing with a wooden crate a minute later. The strain of holding it was doing glorious things for his arms, and she cleared her throat.

“Thank you,” she said, making a great show digging in her bag for her wallet to avoid looking at him again. 

“Where are you parked? I don’t want you snapping your neck walking on those pencils you’re calling shoes.”

She pursed her lips.

“You’re hilarious. How much do I owe you?”

However, he was halfway to the door already.

“I have a friend who distributes for Cheval. This one’s on me.”

“No!” She called, following after him. “Cassian, come back! I don’t need your charity!”

Cash turned to smirk at her over his shoulder.

“With that handbag? I’d say not. Besides, this isn’t charity. It’s...an investment.”

She scowled at this, and he gave an exasperated laugh.

“Don’t get thorny on me, Archeron. I just meant—“ he broke off, laughing again. “Think of it as a perk for being a regular. Buy ten cases, get one free.”

“This isn’t Jamba Juice,” she said, deadpan. “And I don’t like owing people.”

“Look,” he said. “I wasn’t lying about my friend being a distributor. It’s not going to cost the shop anything. Now, where is your car? I think my arms are going numb.”

She bit her lip, debating what this might end up costing her. She didn’t believe in “free”, and she didn’t like feeling like she owed someone; she’d had enough of that from people when she’d been taking care of her sisters after their parents died. 

Then again, she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him...like that, and she’d certainly bought her fair share of wine here over the last few years...

“Fine,” she said, gesturing to her Land Rover. “But take this, at least.”

She pulled out a fifty from her wallet, and Cash rolled his eyes.

“I’m not the pizza delivery boy; I don’t want a tip. Just, promise not to call me Cassian again. That’s all the payment I require.”

She didn’t move, the bill still outstretched. He heaved the crate into her open trunk before shutting it.

“I swear to god, woman, put that away before I shred it to ticker tape. I don’t need your charity, either.”

She relented with a huff, and he laughed. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” she admitted, and he smiled, leaning against her car.

“No one is stopping you.”

She grit her teeth, irritated and flustered in equal measure.

“Thank you,” she finally managed. “For the wine.”

“‘And for blowing my mind’,” he prompted, and she flipped him a foul hand gesture, civility forgotten.

“If you think that’s all it takes to blow my mind, you have a lot to learn about women.”

He bit his lip, eyes full of amusement as he peeled himself off the car.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, flashing her a quick wink. “Until next time, then, Nesta Archeron.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but for once words failed her. She instead stood, gaping like a landlocked fish as he sauntered around her and back into the shop.

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

Cash was distracted for hours after Nesta Archeron left. Even as he met with reps and worked on organizing his uncle Devlon’s pathetically arcane inventory system, he found his eyes kept wandering to the door, as if she might come sauntering back in. Damnit, why hadn’t he told her the Cheval was out of stock? Then at least he would have had a guarantee of seeing her again. Depending on her drinking habits, it could be months before she came in again. Fuck, he was so stupid.

Not that it mattered, really. How many times had she managed to force her boyfriend into the equation? Twice? Three times? Definitely enough that he knew he should get the message. And he understood; he really did. Like all guys his age, he’d been raised on a steady diet of “if she’s not interested, try harder”. It hadn’t been until he’d gotten into his twenties that he’d realized how fucked up that was. When women said no, men needed to respect that and not keep pushing.

The problem was that despite all the clumsy mentions of her boyfriend, she’d still stayed when she easily could have left. Besides, if she thought he hadn’t seen her checking him out, she was insane. Not that he blamed her, obviously. If he was a woman, he’d want to fuck him, too. 

Before he could catch himself, his lizard brain was imagining what being in bed with her would be like. His pulse thrummed. It wasn’t so much the idea of sleeping with her as it was imagining what a courtship like that would be like. She was definitely hot, but her body had nothing on that gorgeous brain. It was clear she was a woman of supreme intellect; he’d have to seduce her mind if he ever wanted to earn something physical. 

It was the kind of intellectual challenge he craved, and one he hadn’t had in ages before she’d come in. He wanted someone who could dish it back, and Nesta Archeron clearly knew how to give as good as she got.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the caller id before huffing and picking it up.

“If you’re calling to ask if the shop has burned down yet, the answer is no.”

His uncle Devlon laughed.

“That place is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a wife; I just want to make sure you’re treating her right.”

“I’ll show her a good time while you’re away,” Cash promised, pouring himself a glass of a new Rioja the rep had dropped off that afternoon. 

“Don’t make sex jokes about my baby,” Dev said. “And stop drinking my merchandise!”

“I’m not!” Cash said, setting down his glass. “Relax, old man. And is Merchant your wife or your baby? You should probably decide; you’ll freak people out if you keep using them interchangeably.”

“Very funny, wise ass. How’s it being back?”

“This place hasn’t changed a bit in ten years,” Cash said, looking around appreciatively. “But you need to get a decent table in here so you can host tasting. Why didn’t you call my friend Az like I told you to? He does gorgeous work.” 

“You must think I’m a lot richer than I am,” Dev said. “I’ve seen his designs; you think I can afford a ten thousand dollar table?”

Cash rolled his eyes.

“He said he’d do it at cost. Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m not going to prey on your fancy friends. Tell him thank you but I can’t swing it.”

“Fine.”

Dev sighed.

“Why do I feel like you’re just going to do it anyway?”

“Because I’m as stubborn as you. How’s Koro?”

“Not a spry as she used to be, but she’s managing just fine. She wants to know when her favorite grandson is coming back. She says the Ritz on Maui is looking for a sommelier.”

“Tell her my days of working for rich white assholes is behind me,” Cash said.

Dev considered.

“You could open your winery here, you know. Volcanic wine is popular with the haoles.”

“Didn’t I just say I was done with rich white assholes?”

“Fine, fine.”

There was a pause in which Cash weighed his options before he added in what he hoped was a casual tone, “If I said the name Nesta Archeron, would that mean anything to you?”

“The lawyer? Sure. She comes in about twice a month. Nice girl, once you get past her prickly side. Why?”

Cash swirled his wine.

“Just wondering. She came in today.”

Dev gave a gravelly laugh.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. She’s got a boyfriend.”

“So I’ve been warned. Have you met him?”

“She’s brought him in once or twice. Portuguese dude.”

“Nice?”

“Not particularly. He’s very possessive of her. Really rubbed me the wrong way.”

Cash felt a prickle of irritation himself. What was a brilliant, fiery woman like Nesta Archeron doing with a controlling prick for a boyfriend? She should be with someone who respected that sharp tongue, someone who could—

“Don’t even think about it, Cash. She’s one of my favorite customers. I don’t want you to scare her off with your panting.”

“I don’t ‘pant’. Also, can you blame me? Man, those legs, and her eyes—“

“I mean it,” Dev interrupted, voice firmer this time. “If she brought up her boyfriend, it means she wants you to fuck off.”

“I’m not going to bother her. I was just....curious.”

“Well don’t be. That creepy boyfriend will nail your balls to the wall if he finds out you’re trying to move in on her.”

“I respect her choices, but I don’t give a shit about him. He can suck my co—“

“I think you’d better accept that no one in that relationship wants your tiny pecker.”

“Tell that to the way she was looking at  me today.”

“Just because you’ve got a cute ass doesn’t mean she likes you.”

Cash groaned.

“Fine, forget I said anything.”

Dev chuckled.

“Don’t be sulky. I’m sure there’s plenty of women in the Bay Area that would be happy to take her place.”

He was right, but somehow it didn’t make Cash feel any better. There was no shortage of beautiful women in San Francisco, but none of them interested him quite the way she had. There’d been no denying the wrenching disappointment when he’d realized she wasn’t single. Then again, had he really expected someone like her to be? And she was lawyer to boot. He gave a huff of amused appreciation. He should have known.

“Right,” Dev said, interrupting his reverie. “Well I just wanted to check in, sounds like everything is fine there. I will tell Koro you said hi. Remember, I’m charging you for any of my wine you drink.”

Cash snorted.

“You’re getting a level three somm for free. I’ll drink all the wine I want.”

“Fair enough. Take care of yourself, pōtiki. And no more hitting on my customers!”

“I wasn’t—“ Cash began, but the line clicked off, and he swore, even has he caught himself laughing a little.

He’d been second-guessing the decision to come back from London since he’d arrived two weeks ago. Today, for the first time, he felt he was exactly where he was meant to be. 

He’d thought he might owe Nesta Archeron another case of wine for that, boyfriend or no. He just hoped she wouldn’t make him wait too long for the opportunity. 

                                                                                               Next Chapter

taggings some interested parties!: @katexrenee @mariamuses @theovogkaaunt @bookofmaas @goldbooksblack @dreamerforever-5 @willsrune @rhysanoodle @queen-of-wings-and-fire @wesupremeginger

[wistfulcynic]

Self-Promo Sunday: The Very Witching Time

Tomorrow I’ll be posting The Sleep of the Sun, my contribution for @cspupstravaganza​ and a continuation of The Very Witching Time, which I wrote for the Supernatural Summer this year. It isn’t necessary to read TVWT to read the TSotS, but just in case, here it is! 

Though it starts in summer the main action takes place in October, and there’s an eerie, witchy vibe throughout. It’s a modern setting, because I love witch!Emma as a modern woman who wears jeans and watches Netflix and uses her magic to keep her drinks hot and make her pancakes perfectly circular. But of course when she’s threatened by ancient evil she can use her magic for far more than that. Or when she meets an injured dog in the forest and needs it to heal him. 

I love this verse so much, and these versions of Emma and Killian, AND the next chapter of their lives, beyond The Sleep of the Sun, which I hope will appear next year for the Supernatural Summer! I just can’t let it go. 

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian. 

Words: 35k Rating: M (for violence and mild sexy times)  Tags: modern AU, magical AU, witchcraft AU, witch!Emma, cursed!Killian, witches, witchcraft, witch lore 

On Tumblr: One | Two | Three | Four  | Five | Six

On AO3

CHAPTER ONE:

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it.

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse.

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised.

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all.

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding.

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart.

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.  

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness.

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did.

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it.

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks.

{Please help me.}

An affinity with animals was one of Emma’s gifts, and she was not surprised to hear the dog’s voice in her head. She smiled reassuringly and offered her hand.

“Hey, puppy,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

The dog sniffed her hand then gave it a lick, its tail wagging furiously. She petted its head and scratched its ears as she slowly inched closer. It seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances but Emma had seen enough injured animals to be wary, knowing how abruptly their pain and fear could overcome them. She knelt on the ground next to it, murmuring gentle words and stroking its back, and took stock of the situation.

The dog’s front right leg was deep in what was likely a gopher hole, buried up to the middle of its shin, and though the sounds she’d heard and the state of the ground around the hole bore witness to the dog’s attempts to free itself, it was clear to Emma as indeed it would be even to the casual observer that the dog was thoroughly stuck and also that the leg was broken.

“Oh, poor baby,” she murmured. “That must hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me. Will you trust me?”

The dog looked right at her and she could see her answer in its extraordinary eyes, filled with pain but also hope and what she would swear was comprehension. It whined and gave her chin a single, gentle lick, then nodded its head.

“Well, that’s clearly a yes,” said Emma. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She hunched closer and examined the dog’s leg, well and truly wedged into the gopher hole, and winced. “I’m really sorry pup but this is going to hurt,” she said, looking up to catch the dog’s gaze again, marvelling at how calm it was despite its distress. She grasped its leg as gently as she could below the break and gathered her magic. “Ready? One… two…”

On three she pulled the leg from the hole, using her magic to ease its way. The dog whimpered at the pain but did not bark or growl and when its leg was free it licked her chin again.

“Okay, that’s step one,” said Emma. “Now let’s see how bad this is.” She probed the leg as delicately as she could with her fingertips, feeling the fractured bone beneath the fortunately unbroken skin. The break felt clean, with no jagged edges. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, I should be able to heal it,” she said, wondering briefly why she was explaining herself to a dog, though the animal in question was watching her intently with those intelligent eyes looking for all the world as though it knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m gonna have to set the break so there’ll be pain again and then I’ll heal it right after. Okay?”

The dog gave a short bark followed by another nod.

{Ready.}

“Okay, then,” said Emma. She gathered her magic, pulling it from the forest flowers and the leaves of the trees for backup, then as quickly as she could she snapped the broken bone back into place and wove her magic into it, knitting it together and soothing the pain in the damaged tissues.

When she finished she sat back on her heels with a sigh and closed her eyes. That was more magic than she’d used in some time and she felt a bit woozy. When she opened them again they fell immediately on the dog, who was staring at its leg in wonder.

Could dogs stare in wonder? She frowned, realising she didn’t actually know very much about the canine species. As a witch she’d always considered herself more of a cat person.  

“Give it a try,” she told the dog. “It’s all better now.”

The dog stood up and began to walk, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. After a few loping steps it spun around and barked excitedly before trotting back to her with a delighted expression, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth.

Emma, however, was still frowning. Despite the dog’s obvious pleasure its gait had a distinct limp and when it moved quickly it used only three legs, forgoing the left one entirely.

Its left leg… when she had healed the right.

“Hey,” she said. “Come here. Let me see that other leg.”

It limped closer and placed its left leg in her lap, a leg which she was now able to observe did not end in a paw.

“Oh, no!” she cried, bending to get a closer look at what was evidently an old injury and a badly healed one, with rough scar tissue and signs of wear where the dog had walked on it. “Oh poor you. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt, is it? How do you walk?”

The dog tilted its head in what was plainly a shrug.

“I guess you manage the best you can, huh? Well, I can’t give you your paw back but if you come home with me I should be able to fix you up with something to protect the end of your leg and help you walk a bit better. How does that sound?”

The dog licked her face enthusiastically and barked, and now that the press of emergency had passed she noticed the peculiar cadence of its cry.

“Aye!” barked the dog.  

Emma blinked. She may not be the world’s foremost authority on dogs, but even she knew that they were supposed to say things like “woof” or “arf.” She’d never heard of a dog saying “aye” before.

“Aye?” she repeated with a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s pretty obviously agreement.” She stood and brushed the dirt and twigs from her legs as the dog stood patiently in its slightly off-kilter way. “What should I call you?” she asked it. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

Killian.

The name sprang into her mind, though the dog hadn’t barked. “Killian?” she repeated, startled.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

“Really?”  

“Aye!”  

“You sure? It’s not Spot or Buster or Joe or something?”

The dog looked affronted, and she laughed again. “All right, Killian it is then. I guess that means you’re a boy.”

“Aye!”

“Well okay, Killian, let’s go. We can have some dinner and then I’ll see what I can do about that paw.”

Killian bounded in an excited circle around her, his tail a blur. He moved remarkably well, considering, she thought, even as she laughed at his antics, and soon he’d settled into a limping trot alongside her as she headed home.

When they reached her garden gate she opened it and went straight in but Killian halted with a short bark of distress. She turned in surprise at the sound to see him pacing to and fro in front of the gate, whining softly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He whined louder and gave two short barks.

{Not welcome.}

“But why wouldn’t you be—” Emma frowned. The wards around her garden were designed to keep humans away, permitting none to enter without permission. But they shouldn’t have any effect on a dog.

Should they?

She really needed to learn more about dogs, she thought with mild irritation. This was clearly a gaping hole in her education.

In the meantime she called to the magic in the ancient warding spells, and spoke the age-old words to quieten them. “I see thee, Killian, and I name thee friend,” she said, in a voice that echoed through the open air. “Be welcome in this place.”

The magic of her garden surged and she held out her arms as it rippled and danced around her, ruffling her hair and gilding her skin with tiny sparks of light. Killian stared at her with wonder in his eyes again, and when the sparks faded away and she lowered her arms he cautiously stepped through the gate. The moment he crossed its threshold the garden’s magic… sighed, a soft exhale that sang of enduring hopes fulfilled at too long last, and curled itself around him, ruffling his fur as it had her hair.

Now it was Emma’s turn to stare. Her magic had never done that before. She gaped as Killian seemed to smirk —could dogs smirk?— at the unseen attention he was getting before rolling onto his back and letting the garden’s magic rub his tummy.

“Seriously?” cried Emma. “That’s enough of that, from both of you, Killian, come inside.”

She marched over to the cottage door and pulled it open. Killian leapt to his feet and ran after her, pausing just at the doorstep to wink at the garden before trotting into her kitchen.

Could dogs wink?

Emma made a mental note to dig up a book on canine behaviours later that night. There must be one in her library. Somewhere.

“I don’t have much that’s suitable for dogs,” she warned him as she opened the icebox. “But I think I’ve got some hamburgers in here if that’s okay—”

“Aye! Aye!”

“Okay, let me just heat them up.”

She defrosted the hamburgers with some gentle warming magic and put them on a plate for him. The minute she set it on the floor he dove in, gobbling up the meat with enthusiasm bordering on frenzy.

“Wow, you were hungry! How long has it been since you ate?”

He looked up at her and licked his chops, tail wagging vigorously, and barked twice before digging in again.

{Long time.}

“Well, don’t eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.”

Emma made herself a sandwich and munched it as she watched him diligently try to eat more slowly. When the last morsel was gone he lapped the plate clean then came over to her and licked her hand in thanks, wagging his tail as she scritched his ears before relaxing back onto his haunches and giving her the opportunity to observe him.

He was, as she had noticed in the woods, a large dog, though not a bulky one, with long slender legs and lean muscles. Standing, his head reached her waist with his shoulders around the middle of her thigh. His fur was thick and shaggy and a deep, light-absorbing black, though a v-shaped tuft right in the centre of his chest was bright white and fluffy and so soft-looking that her fingers itched to pet it.

He watched her examine him with a twinkle in his blue eyes that she was certain couldn’t be normal for a dog, as though he knew what she was thinking. She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and when he pouted —did dogs pout?— she gave him a small smirk. “You had your dinner,” she said firmly. “You can’t have mine too. Now what do you say we go and see what can be done about that paw.”

She stood and left the kitchen, Killian at her heels, and headed past the living room and the closed library door, through a dark and narrow passageway towards the rear of the house. As she approached, the solid-seeming wall at the end of the corridor began to shimmer with the same sparking light that had surrounded her in the garden and a doorway appeared, wrought from the same stone as the slabs of the house itself, curving elegantly to form a pointed Gothic arch and frame a door of solid wood, thick and heavy and older than anything that surrounded it.

The door swung open as Emma drew near and she breezed through it without a thought. Killian, sensing the darker energy emanating from the other side, hesitated as he had at the garden gate. Emma turned, her smile understanding.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s not dangerous, just old. Old things are sometimes… indifferent to younger ones. But it won’t hurt you. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Hesitantly he came through the doorway, moving slowly to allow the magic there to get a sense of him. It was less welcoming than the garden had been, but not hostile. As Emma said, it was simply indifferent. This magic had seen too many mortal creatures come and go in its time to care overly much about yet another one.

Emma led him into a large stone room with no windows, the tall, thick candles lining the walls its only source of light. These she set burning with a wave of her hand and the illumination they produced flooded the room with a golden glow despite their modest number. Stone stairs curved up the walls on either side of the room, leading to the towers that flanked the house, their twin helixes twisting up and disappearing into a darkness too dense even for the candles to penetrate. A heavy and cluttered wooden table spanned the length of the far wall, and this Emma approached, producing a thick, soft blanket of deep midnight blue scattered with stars from a woven wicker basket beneath it.

She spread the blanket carefully over the centre of the otherwise bare stone floor, placing at each of its corners a small silver bowl filled with sea salt and thyme and a few dried violet leaves, murmuring a short incantation over them as she did. “Sit here,” she instructed Killian, indicating the centre of the blanket. “I’ll need a few minutes to get my things together.”

Obediently, he sat and watched her in fascination as she rifled through the jumbled collection of bottles, jars, and bags on the table, frowning and muttering to herself as she did.

“…comfrey and rosemary and a bit of peppermint, sage to infuse and to burn…” she intoned as she gathered the named ingredients together. When all were assembled she snapped her fingers to light a fire beneath her copper kettle, then carefully weighed out the herbs on her silver scales while the water inside it came to a boil. She blended the herbs in a large mortar, crushing and grinding them with the pestle to blend them well and draw out their essence before tipping them carefully into a painted ceramic pot and pouring the boiling water over them. Stirring them gently with her magic, with her fingertips she traced arcane symbols through the steam as it rose from the pot into the cool, still air.

When she judged the herbs sufficiently infused she strained their liquid through a clean cheesecloth into a wide copper bowl. As it cooled to a comfortable temperature, she removed a lump of pure silver from a leather bag, holding it up to observe its gleam in the candlelight. The lump was large but to complete the healing properly would require all of it, and it was also precious. Glancing behind her she saw Killian sitting patiently, watching her, his eyes wide and curious but not afraid. Trusting.

He was worth it. She felt sure of that, and though she had no idea why she did not vacillate. Emma had long since learned to trust her instincts.  

She took a bundle of dried sage and held it up to a candle flame until it caught —some fires needed to be started in the mundane way— then blew the flame out with a quick puff of breath and waved the smouldering herbs around the blanket and over the copper bowl before dropping them into the potion. Carefully she lifted the bowl and carried it to the blanket, kneeling down upon it and placing the bowl in front of Killian. Closing her eyes she muttered a brief incantation before taking his damaged leg and bathing it in the warm liquid, her fingers gentle but thorough, making sure to clean away all the dirt and debris from the gnarled scar tissue. He growled softly, deep in his throat, and she shot him a smile, knowing it was a growl of pleasure.

“Feels good, huh?” she said. “Soothing.”

“Aye.” His bark was as low as his growl.

{Good.}

When his leg was clean she dried it with a linen cloth and set it in her lap, then took out the lump of silver, placing it at the end of his leg and cupping both loosely in the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes once more she focused her powers and drew forth the metal’s own magic, its primal properties of health and healing, her hands beginning to spark and glow with light as she kneaded the silver, stretching and weaving it back into itself, moulding the lump into the shape of a dog’s paw and then knitting it into the damaged flesh of the leg. Killian watched with wide eyes, whimpering slightly as the metal sank into his skin and fused to his bones. The light from Emma’s hands burst into a sudden blinding brightness, flickered out, and the silver paw was part of him.

Emma slumped back on her heels, exhausted. “Whew,” she said. “Done.” She patted the metal paw. “Give it a try.”

Killian sniffed the paw, licked at the seam where it joined his leg, then tentatively placed it on the floor and leaned his weight on it. He took a few careful steps followed by bolder ones, then turned to Emma with an incredulous expression. She laughed, happy he was happy. “Go on, stretch yourself,” she encouraged.

“Aye!” he barked, frolicking joyfully around the room, spinning in circles and leaping through the air. He ran to Emma and jumped on her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face until she pushed him away, grinning through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m glad you like it,” she told him as she rose unsteadily from the floor. “I gotta get to bed. Um…” she swayed on her feet and Killian was there immediately at her side, pressing firmly against her leg and letting her brace herself with her hand on his neck as she stumbled from the stone room and out the doorway.

It disappeared behind her, the magic within whispering far more warmly than before, no longer so indifferent to Killian as it had been.

Emma sank her fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head felt heavy and woozy, her fingers and toes numb. Moving clumsily she kicked off her shorts and unhooked her bra, pulling it from beneath her tank top with jerky movements and dropping it to the floor before collapsing into bed, sinking deep into the pillows. Dimly she was aware of Killian moving around the room, his fur soft against her skin as he pulled the blankets up over her, the warm weight of him curling up at her back, his chin resting on her hip. With the last of her energy she reached up to stroke his head then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

                                                    ~~🌺~~

Some hours later Killian was awoken from his doze when the magic from Emma’s garden called to him. He lifted his head from where it still lay on her hip and gave a low growl, staring through the bedroom window into the pitch blackness of the night.

Something was out beyond the garden wall, moving around its perimeter, methodically testing the magical boundary in search of weaknesses. Killian could sense it there, could feel its cold determination and intent even without the garden’s warning.

Threat, whispered the garden magic in his mind. Danger. Stay with her.

Killian flexed his new silver paw, feeling the power that still thrummed within it, feeling the absence of pain in his left limb for the first time in many a year. He looked at the golden haired woman still sound asleep, drained to exhaustion by the act of healing him, of selflessly giving him this invaluable gift. He recalled her warm green eyes and kind smile, the strength and gentleness in her touch.

He lay back down, pressing tighter against her, curling his neck around her hip and placing his silver paw gently over her waist. He closed his eyes again and answered the garden’s plea.

{Always.}

Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world.

                                   —Hamlet, Act III Scene 2

Continue to Chapter 2 

[dragonloverdoran]

Struck to the Bone

~2k words, mentions of violence, smol Lief

There are ghosts in Del.

By now, Endon has lost count of the times he has caught a glimpse of familiar palace folk within the city's crowds: a shock of orange hair just like Lady Elisa’s, perhaps, or Captain Jessop’s crooked nose, or Min’s kindly smile.

Oh, he knows they cannot be real. Sharn never notices any of it, and she is much sharper than he is. Barda says that whoever he sees must be distant relatives at best. Neither of them ever manage to hide their concerned looks quite well enough.

Besides, in his dreams he watches his people sprawled out on the palace tiles, life draining out of them in rivers of red. He sees their shattered tools and instruments and weapons, and he hears their desperate warnings to a king who has already abandoned them. It is only when the warnings turn to curses that he can awake, a weight in his heart telling him his dreams are true to the bitter end. 

In this way, he reminds himself that these ghosts are nothing more than illusions, mere tricks of a guilty mind. It doesn’t stop them in the least.

An execution, the Grey Guards shout, their fists thundering against the forgehouse door. Come to the palace to witness our first midwinter execution! Entertainment for all the family!

A chill seeps into Endon's soul. Braced against the other side of the door, he waits until the raucous laughter fades down the street, reaching for his coat only when he is sure the Guards will not batter down the timbers. Sharn has already passed Lief his thick jacket and a knitted hat. 

Once the boy is bundled up, Endon places his hands on his son's shoulders. “Listen closely, Lief,” he says, willing his voice not to shake. If he panics, he cannot expect his son to stay calm either. “You have grown much since the last execution. You are now tall enough to be able to see the event without being on my shoulders. That means you must stand on your own, near the front, and the Grey Guards will hold you responsible if you happen to catch their eye.”

The words taste like ash in Endon’s mouth. No child should have to be told such things; no child should even know of the kind of evil that the Grey Guards wreak in the heart of the city. But having spent all nine years of his life under the reign of the Shadow Lord, Lief is already far too familiar with the process of public execution. He nods solemnly.

“Do you remember the rules?” asks Endon.

Lief begins to fidget. “Keep your head down,” he murmurs. “Face the platform. Stay silent, no matter what you see.” 

Three simple rules. Not unlike the ones in the forge, which Lief can rattle off with the speed of an auctioneer, and which are just as vital in keeping him safe. Endon breathes a sigh of relief and releases the boy.  

But after he takes the keys off the hook, Endon turns to see Lief’s cheeks flushed red, words tumbling out as quick and sudden as the tears in his eyes. “Father, I’m going to bring Monty along. I know I’m too old to play with him and he’s balding and needs repairs and I should have fixed him up ages ago, but no one will see, and no, I’m not going to say why I need him and I don’t care what you think about it.” Lief folds his arms, mouth turned sharply downward.

Endon pauses, not knowing how to reply. What has he done, he wonders, to make Lief think he would disapprove of a child’s fear, especially now? He wants to tell him that he is the last person who can demand bravery, but speaking of that would not help at all. Instead, he kneels down and embraces his son.

While Lief weeps into his collar, Endon looks around for Monty. A charming little thing despite its loose threads and rough patches, the toy kin has never been too far away. Sharn, ever-knowing, disappears into the bedroom, emerging a few seconds later with Monty in hand. Letting go of his father, Lief snatches up the furry creature and stuffs it awkwardly into his pocket, his cheeks still burning.

Sharn tuts gently, sounding almost calm. Endon knows better. Her rueful smile is tight, and as she does up her coat buttons he can see how white her knuckles are. He has learnt long ago that if his strong, courageous wife is afraid, then he has no chance at keeping the fear at bay.

“Soon it will be over,” he says. 

It is all the comfort he can offer. This time, he cannot keep the crack out of his voice.

In happier, more ignorant times, the stretch between the palace’s great hall and the garden wall was known as the Place of Peace. Magnificent feasts and parties had been held there every other month, weather permitting. Jesters and musicians brought laughter and joy to all in attendance, surrounded by candles so plentiful that it had seemed as though he and Sharn danced among the stars. 

Now, as they enter the Place of Punishment, he clutches at her hand once again. Truth be told, it is a far more apt name than the old one, for the word “peace” is a poor substitution for “easy manipulation of a foolish king”. The high platform that now stands before the people of Del makes no such pretenses about its nature. Adorned with rows of fang-like stakes, previous executions have patterned its wooden slats with layers of red-brown spatter. Bones old and new are strewn around the square, fragments crunching underfoot like gravel. Above it all, the Shadow Lord’s red mark flies high in the sickly air.

“If a tick is tall enough to gawk, they’re tall enough to squawk,” chortles a Grey Guard as they pass. “Hear that, Teak 7? Came up with that one myself. I sure hope someone refuses to watch the show.” He hefts a gigantic club in one hand, and Endon quickly averts his eyes.

All too soon, they are pressed against the backs of the crowd gathering at the foot of the platform. Endon takes a peek at Lief. The boy’s jaw is set, and he has a vice-like grip on Monty, hidden within his pocket. True to the rules, he stares straight ahead before pushing forward and disappearing into the crowd. Beside him, Endon feels Sharn squeeze his hand twice. Our son. She too has seen him go. 

Endon recognises neither the names nor the faces of the condemned. For others, perhaps, that could make it a little easier to watch the agonising deaths unfolding in front of them. They are able to believe that this cannot happen to them, as long as they keep their consciences clean and sufferings silent. It is too late for him. His people are here because of his failures, and a part of him goes with every poor soul slaughtered in his place.

Soon after the executions are complete, a tug at his sleeve announces Lief’s return. The poor boy looks about as ready to faint as Endon feels. “Mother, Father,” he whispers, “I dropped Monty somewhere near the front. I’m going back to get him, but you have to come with me. Please?”

Startled, Endon turns to Sharn.

“Well, let's go,” she says quietly, her mouth forming into a thin line. “Even the Guards have had their bloodlust sated for today.”

She is right, as always. Most of the Guards are busy directing cleanup and traffic. The rest are clumped in groups, discussing the details of the killings with schoolboy enthusiasm. Either way, none of them are paying real attention to the citizens, who are leaving as eagerly as they dare. He glances at Sharn again. She nods, so he takes a deep breath and follows their son. 

Pushing through the throng, Endon cannot help but feel like a fish swimming upstream through the River Del. Where Lief is able to squeeze between people with ease, and Sharn with only a little more effort, he is jostled left and right, his bulk hampering his progress. Using more force, he quickly finds, does nothing but yield him angry looks. With every second that passes, the others get further and further away.

He is midway through his umpteenth apology when a peculiar stillness draws his eye. A few paces away, the crowd ebbs and swirls around a lone man, standing nearly a span taller than his neighbours. His nose and mouth are covered with a dull green scarf, and a pale scar winds its way across his cheek from beneath the cloth. Where most have their heads bowed, his is held high and proud, the dark hair tangling about his shoulders his only sign of motion.

Endon blinks, half expecting the man to be seized before his eyes. Armed or not, boldness such as this is beyond foolish. Surely it was obvious that attracting attention here would be rewarded violently, yet the man makes no attempt to blend in. Still, there is something else odd about this man that gives him pause, a half-formed thought evaporating before Endon can properly seize hold of it. His chest tightens. Whatever he has forgotten, it is important. Trying to regain his line of thought, he finds himself pushing closer. At the very least, he should warn him of the danger.

The stranger, Endon surmises, is some kind of seasonal traveller. Besides the ill-informed attitude, the cut and fabric of his clothes are better suited to some thorny path than Del’s cobbled streets. Beneath the dense cloak, the man’s frame is as lean and strong as Endon’s own- fitness greater than the city’s hunger often allows. From this distance, he can guess at the features behind the scarf; a couple of steps more and he can speak to him, even reach out and touch him. 

And then Endon looks at the stranger’s eyes, and he thinks better of it. Dread darting suddenly through his nerves, he sees that there is neither touristic curiosity, nor sadness, nor even fear within them. Nothing but fury, bright and savage, fixated on the Guards as though they could combust with a stare. 

He had been mistaken. This was not the madness of ignorance, but of hate: all-consuming hate, hate that mattered more than love of home, of family, of life itself. Endon had felt echoes of it himself ever since the world ended nearly ten years ago. It was agonising and self-destructive, he knew, but it filled the void left when it seemed all else had been torn away. And even he had been fortunate, for whatever had befallen this man, there was nobody beside him to keep him grounded, as Sharn and Lief did. Nobody to tell him what had happened to the pottery workers, who had been possessed by the same feeling not too long ago. Nobody to prevent him from being a danger to himself and others, a spark waiting to set the forest around him alight.

Endon is backing away when the half-formed recognition returns to him complete. It is as good as a punch to the gut; in an instant, it buckles his knees and squeezes all the air out of his chest. No, it cannot be, he thinks numbly. No, he has never loved anyone who could possibly muster such rage. But, try as he might, he cannot deny that that hair, that build, that proud, stubborn stance, that curve of the nose and those dark, dark eyes are so very much like…

The dear name is on Endon’s lips before he remembers that it is he who wears it now. Heart thudding, he chokes it back. Calling out his own name in the Place of Punishment- what an absurdly stupid way to ensure the Shadow Lord’s eternal rule. He should know by now he cannot trust his own sight, not when it comes to those who had misguidedly cared for the king he had been. But of all the visions he had seen, this one was not so impossible, was it?

Trying to still his racing thoughts, he shuts his eyes and begins to count silently to ten.

“Jarred?”

Endon jolts at Sharn’s voice. The square is clearing, and for a moment he thinks she has seen the man too. But the stranger-who-was-not-a-stranger has vanished, and it is himself that she gazes worriedly at. Without another word, she loops her arm around him, steadying him as she has so many times before. Lief stands nervously behind her, clutching a dusty Monty like a long-lost friend.

Suddenly exhausted, Endon shakes his head and lets it drop.

“I promise I won't lose him again,” mumbles Lief, misunderstanding. He does not take his eyes off his beloved kin.

Endon swallows, trying to push away memories of similar promises he had made and broken a lifetime ago. “I am sure you will not,” he says, and takes Lief’s free hand in his own. 

[pinkykitten]

I can be Loved

Marvel

Stephen Strange x plus size & fire power! female reader

Warnings: some curse words, violence, reader being self conscious, death, also i did not re-read this cuz i made this too dang long!

Specifics: death, sadness, romance, comedy, Avengers: Infinity War, man vs man, fire power, pictures, videos, plus size reader, race neutral reader

People: Stephen Strange, you, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Wong, Peter Parker, Ebony Maw, Black Dwarf, Peter Quill, Drax, Mantis, Thanos, Gamora (mentioned), Thor (mentioned).

Words: 4,229

Requested: By anonymously Hi doll❤️ I love your writing please keep doing what you are doing! Do you write for chubby girls or plus size cause I live for that!!!! If so could I request a plus size reader, where she is with doctor strange and many think she is all scrawny and can’t stand up for herself but she proves them wrong by fighting like a bad ass like Thanos makes fun of her and tries to degrade her but she is just too cool and she fights along side Dr. Strange so fluff and angst cause she reacts to his death

Authors Note: hi there anon! thank u so much for ur kind words. i do write for plus size beautiful woman! i luved this request and it makes me kinda sad to not see a lot of fanfics for dr. strange cuz he is such a cool character and it is the benedict cumberbatch. i went a lil bit overboard with this its just i really lived for this request also i made the reader have fire power because i wanted her to be powerful hehehe. but there is a lot to read so im srry. i loved writing this i didnt reread this so there may be mistakes but my back, fingers, legs hurt so yeah. thnx for requesting and i hope u enjoy this. remember i luv to hear ur guys thoughts. 

The world as you know it was going to change, one way or another it was going to either perish or fight.

You all looked outside. The wind was strong and the noises of people screaming was all you could hear. Your heart racing in fear you consciously grasped Stephen, your fiance’s hand. 

As Tony opened the door many citizens raced the opposite way of..something. Some falling, some terrified, like you. 

“Y/n, I should go see what it is. You stay here,” Dr. Strange ordered you, letting go of your hand. 

“No Steph, where you go I go. I can fight too you know.” With that you walked ahead of him following Tony. 

Stephen quickly grabbed Wong’s attention. “Whatever you do, you keep y/n alive. Alright?”

Wong saw the seriousness in his friends eyes and just nodded. 

As you turned the corner a ship that was a circle with a hole in the middle landed on New York City grounds. You gasped loudly at how large it was. This was no human tech, this was some alien crap. 

Stephen, Wong, and Bruce followed you and Tony. Suddenly, a blue beam appeared and out came a skinny alien guy that looked like Voldemort, and another alien guy except he was huge and kinda looked like a dung beetle. 

Your group walked to them, curious expressions. 

The skinny alien then started to say how they were Thanos children, and that you all were about to die from them and it was a privilege. 

You turned around all sassy to Bruce, “Is this guy serious?”

“I’m sorry Earth is closed today,” shouted Tony Stark to the alien men. “You better pack it up and get out of here.”

The skinny alien then focused his attention on Stephen, “Stone keeper. Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not, I speak for myself!” Stephen using his magic to maybe scare off the aliens and show that he was not playing. (god that part that he does that hand thing is kinda hot......anyways enjoy reading) “You’re trespassing on this city and on this planet.”

Wong after him brought out his magic. 

Just then the huge alien was walking towards your group, hitting his giant hammer on anything he sees. 

You tapped your foot impatiently, “hey guys are we gonna do anything? I really don’t think this guy likes us!” 

Well since he was big you all then looked at...Bruce...well you all wanted the Hulk. You all stared at him awaiting for the green monster to rage on out. Instead, Bruce was having trouble getting him out, “c’mon man, c’mon.”

He was still pushing, and pushing, and pushing some more. Everyone awaiting, and staring impatiently. 

“Ugh men!” You stated placing a hand on your plush, curvy hip. 

“Wheres your guy?” Tony Stark asked looking as if Bruce lied to him. 

“I don’t know we’re sorta been having a thing.”

“There’s no time for a thing. Thats the thing right there, lets go.”

The big alien man was coming closer and closer. Then he started running towards you all. You quickly turned your whole body into fire, your skin turning orange, and your hair turning into flames. Your eyes a bright sun orange (kinda like flame princess from at). “Step away boys.”

“I love it when she does that,” Stephen said as he stared all amazed at you. 

(not my art! do not own!)

You stood in front of the massive alien, ready to shoot him with some fire balls.

(TONY’S COOL MOVE YASSSSSSSSSSSSSS srry) Tony decided to help as well. He turned his track suit into his Iron man suit. But in a cool way. 

He added some blasters to his suit and all of them came out to shoot at the alien. You and Tony shot at the same time making the alien fall back onto the skinny one but surprise surprise, his powers were telekinesis. 

He, with the power of his mind moved the other alien harshly to a car. 

Tony put his blasters away. 

“Holy crap that was frickin amazing!” A excited Bruce yelled, making you turn around and chuckle. “You turning into fire and you, Tony, where’d that come from?”

“Its nano tech, you like it?” Answered Tony, turning around to you all. 

“I got to say that was pretty awesome,” you smiled placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony placed a hand on his mouth and gasped, “ooohhh wizard man, how you feel about your fiance touching me and oh wait, yeah, calling me awesome?’

Stephen shook his head and his cloak smacked your hand off Tony’s shoulder, “she was only trying to be nice to you...she calls me better things in bed.”

“Wow,” Tony said. 

“Babe! Thats private,” you shouted, laughing at the end. 

“Wow, that was so unneeded, like to the point where you didn’t need to do that.” Tony shook his hands, shaking his head. 

Suddenly, the skinny alien man used his powers to throw a car at you all. The other worked on it while you and Tony threw it back to him. He used his powers to cut it in half. 

Tony then used his boosters to try to fly to him. You used your fire power to fly to him as well. As you tried to fly, Stephen brought you down. “Hey sweetheart, why don’t you stay here, I really don’t think you going over there is such a good idea.”

“Are you serious? Honey, I’m fine.”

Bruce came into the conversation, “yeah y/n, maybe Stephen is right. Maybe this is a little bit too much for you.”

“You know what, I know this isn’t a woman thing because you all let Natasha fight. This is a size thing. Are you all serious? You think I can’t fight cause I’m too big, too fat for the normal superhero.”

Wong then raised his hand and tried to tell you something, but you just ignored him. “Thats fine think what you want to think,” you almost cried, Stephen going to you and saying that thats not it, and of course it wouldn’t be it.

“Y/n, I think you’re the most beautiufl woman on this Earth, and trust me I know you are capable-”

“Save it. I don’t need any of you. I am going to fight, whether you like it or not, and I’m gonna show you all that bigger woman can do things in this world, especially be a superhero!”

Your fire became more intense and you flew next to Tony. The skinny alien was using his powers to throw some of the road on you two. The big alien threw a claw at Tony and this set Tony back. 

“Stark!” You shouted. “You are not eleven from Stranger Things, are you?” You raised your eyebrow to the skinny alien. “Thats okay, you look more like the demogorgon.” You blasted flames at both aliens. Dodging one of the punches of the big alien. 

The skinny alien threw the fire back onto you. You just chuckled, “You do realize I’m made of fire, right?”

The skinny alien smiled and heaved a huge piece of building onto you. 

“Y/n!” Yelled Wong and Stephen. They tried to get to you but they had to fight the skinny alien. 

“Ouch!” You quickly burned the piece of building into ashes and saw the skinny alien go to your fiance. “Steph!”

He put Stephen to the wall and placed bricks on him. You knew he wanted that stone. You also knew Stephen placed a spell on it. 

“-then I’ll take it off your corpse.” The alien took Stephen and threw him to you. 

“Oh my god babe, honey,” you took off your fire power to touch him, carressing his face. “Steph are you okay?”

His cloak brought him up and he nodded to you. He tried to use the time stone but the alien wrapped thorny vines around his arms. 

“Let him go!” You try to burn the vines away but its not use, they just keep reappearing. The vines go around his neck and knock him out unconscious. 

“Are you serious?” You try to take the vines off of him, they are strong and grab on real tight. “C’mon babe, stupid frickin things get off!”

The alien brings Stephen with him and you fall off the platform. The cloak then takes Stephen away from the vines. You, your fire power ignited, go after him, with the skinny alien following you two. 

“Steph I am right here. I got you.”

He then goes by Tony, and you notice Tony fighting with the big alien. You also notice your favorite...SPIDER MAN!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hi sweetheart!” You wave to Peter. 

“Hi Ms. L/n!”

“Kid thats the wizard and y/n, get on it,” ordered Tony to Peter. 

“On it!”

You flew backwards now, your attention on to the alien behind you. “Go away freak!” You started shooting fire at him, him dodging every time. Peter tried to get the alien but he through a piece of debris at Peter.

“Peter!” You shouted look at his state to make sure he was fine. 

“Not cool, yeah Ms. L/n, I’m fine!”

As Stephen was getting away from the alien, the alien used his powers to stop Stephen. By bending the street lights one of the lights caught Stephen by the cloak making Stephen fall out. You tried to catch him but you would of burned him. In that moment you felt defenseless, helpless, unworthy. You couldn’t even do a simple job as saving your future husband. They were all right about you. 

Peter came to the rescue and saved Stephen. With a sad face you thanked the young boy for doing something you couldn’t do. You just followed them slowly, until you were lifted in a beam. You tried to hold onto something but it was no use. You were going to die, how did you know this? What use were you, they didn’t need you, nor want you. You were garbage to them. You were garbage to everyone. You tried to shake the self conscious thoughts out of your mind, but you couldn’t. They were eating at you, telling you things that were not true. 

Peter tried to hold on with his spider web to Stephen but the skinny alien used his powers to bring Peter up. 

You entered the ship with Stephen and ran to hide behind a piece of the inner ship. Watching to see someone come by. 

“This is bad,” you thought. “Really bad.”

You meet up unexpectedly with Peter and Tony. You see in the distance the alien is pointing these needle like things to Stephen to get the time stone. The needle things go into his skin and you hear his screams. Tears coming out of your eyes you try to go to him but Tony stops you. 

“Don’t blow our cover y/n, we will save him.”

As you all try to think of a plan Peter says, “hey have you guys ever seen a really really old movie called Aliens?”

As the alien is threatening Stephen, you and Tony go behind him ready to blast him away. He turns around to the sound of Tony’s high pitched suit. 

The alien uses his power to bring out pieces of the ship to you and Tony. You smirk and say, “have fun in space.”

You and Tony blast a hole in the ship sending him and Stephen flying.

“Steph! Peter get him!”

Peter grabs Stephen with his web and then a new feature of his suit comes out. HE HAS SPIDER LEGS!

“HOLY SH*T THAT IS AMAZING!” You squeal in excitement. 

Peter jumps up and brings Stephen in. Tony closes the hole. 

You quickly run to Stephen and hug him, “oh my god, I thought I lost you. I’m so happy you’re alive.” You look into his eyes and he looks into yours. 

“Sweetheart about earlier, what I was trying to say is that-”

You stand up quickly, the emotions and self conscious feelings interrupting your mind again. “It doesn’t matter right now.” You turn around, shyly placing a hand on your arm and rubbing it. You then mutter as you’re walking away, “I don’t matter.”

Stephen tries to go to you to help you and to make you feel better but Tony places a hand on him to decide where to go. 

Stephen thinks Earth but Tony thinks wherever the ship is going. His thinking is he feels wherever this ship is going Thanos must be there, if all of you were to go then it would be an element of surprise. Stephen disagrees in the begging but you agree with Tony. 

“If Thanos is going to be there then maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. I mean I know, we have to protect the stone but I don’t think Thanos is awaiting this much of an impact or this much of a plan. I say we go for it.”

The ship lands harshly on a planet named Titan. 

A smoke bomb lands between you all and with impact you all go tumbling back. 

“What in the world!”

You look up to see some wannabes trying to fight you all. You fly to the one with the funny looking goggles. 

He shoots you with his gun while you blast a hole power of fire. 

“I call this roast some buns,” you blast harder your fire at him. He dodges it with his cheap looking jet pack thing. 

“What are we in The Krusty Krab?” The unknown person jokes along with you. 

You all fight with each other and form a circle of whos killing who. 

The person you were fighting takes his mask off and point the gun at Tony. “I’m gonna ask you this one time, where is Gamora?”

“Yeah, I’ll do you one better,” Tony took his mask off. “Who’s Gamora?”

And then the alien, buff man talked, “I’ll do you one better, why is Gamora?”

“I’ll do you all one better, why are we still talking about this Gamora?” You stopped your fire powers.

After going back and forth on where this Gamora was at the guy holding Peter mentioned Thanos. 

“Wait, what Thanos. Alright let me ask you this one time, what master do you serve?” You looked at Stephen as he questioned the new comers. 

“What master do I serve? What am I supposed to say Jesus?” The guy answered back, still holding Peter. 

After explaining that you were trying to defeat Thanos as well Peter took off his mask, “We’re the avengers man.”

Just then the alien bug looking girl said, “you’re the one Thor told us about.”

Tony asked, “you know Thor?”

The Missouri guy nodded, “Yeah, tall guy not that good lookin, needed saving.”

You eyes widened, “oh my god Thor’s alive. We may still have a chance...I say we all work together on this. We all want to take down the same purple raisin so we should combine all our powers to become one and destroy Thanos.”

“Thanks for the input lava girl, didn’t know we were all gonna turn into Voltron with all our lions.” The blonde hair man said as his eyes were on you. 

You walked up to him with a serious face, “my name is y/n, and I don’t think fragile skin can stand against hot fire.”

You walked to the exit while Tony, Peter, and Stephen giggled. “Gotta love her,” Stephen said as he followed you. 

You all came out of the ship and stood on the planet, trying to come up with a plan. You learned all the names of the new people.

Mantis in a low voice asked, “Does your friend do that?”

You all look back to see Stephen moving his head quickly back and forth. You go to him and place a hand on his cheek. He comes back to reality with a startle cry. 

“You okay?” You ask worried. 

Stephen was using the Time Stone to look into alternate futures. You ask about if you win the battle, but out of the millions of futures he foresaw, he sees that you are all victorious in none but one alone.

Your heart pounds and you squeeze your hand shut, tightly. All in your head was how you are going to die feeling worthless, feeling like you contributed nothing to this world. Tears start to form in your eyes and you walk to a nearby rock, covering yourself from the others. 

You wanted to show Stephen that you were not just the girl that got made fun of in high school because of her weight. You’re not someone you can make fun of and push around as if you don’t have feelings. You wanted to come out victorious and explain these terrible feelings you’ve been having lately to Stephen. 

Stephen see you crying behind a rock and walks over to you. He kneels down to you and takes your hands in his. 

“Sweetheart please talk to me, I’m here for you.”

You wipe your tears, “I know I can’t do many things in life, I can’t prevent many things. But I can try to fight. I know I’m fat and ugly and big but I want to try to prove my worth. To you and to them.” You pointed to the group. “I’m so useless, aren’t I?”

Stephen kissed your hands. “No. You are so much more than those degrading words. Back there I wasn’t trying to make fun of you honey, or bring you down in any way. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t want, I don’t want anything to happen to you. You are so important to me and to so many others, you just don’t see it. You prove to others and to other young girls, just women in general that even if you feel useless and nothing you can make something of yourself, you can save the world. You are beautiful in and out y/n, you are my superhero, my hero, you save me y/n. It will always be that way. I know you are so capable of so many great things and I encourage you to do everything in your power to be you, to be the amazing, powerful, strong you. This means so much to me,” Stephen said holding up your ring on your finger. “It means that soon you and I will be one, we will be husband and wife. We will not just show love but be love. You are my everything y/n, thank you for standing by me sweetheart.”

Your eyes were wide and you were shocked. “I love you so much Steph, thank you for saying those things. I really needed to hear that, you make me so happy Stephen Strange. I can’t wait to get married to you and when I call you mine. Thank you love.”

You sit on his lap, not caring about your weight. Stephen holds you upright with ease, resting his hands on your hips. You trace massage your fingers into his dark locks seeing his ice blue eyes look into yours. You place your hands on his cheeks, taking in his complexion of high cheekbones and milky white skin. You kiss him on the lips lightly, enjoying the presence of him. He deepens the kiss his right hand going to your cheek, making the kiss more passionate. In the middle of the kiss you hear a cough. You and Stephen turn your heads to see a startled Peter, and a annoyed Stark. 

“Sorry am I interrupting something, cause we’re in the middle of a war if you haven’t noticed. Anyways, you two, The Notebook, we have a plan.”

Thanos had come to the planet Titan and tried to explain his belief of genocide. It all seemed so crazy to you. You all almost got the gauntlet off but you all especially Peter Quill learned that Gamora was dead. Peter got so mad at Thanos that he punched him knocking him out of the sleep phase he was in with Mantis. 

It almost worked the plan, now it was to make it up as you guys went. 

You gave this war, this battle everything that you had. All your being your strength, everything. 

Everyone was focused and paying attention to other things in their way that you were left with Thanos. 

By yourself.

All the struggles in life, all the beat downs, the I’m not good enough have led you up to this moment. You were going to show this monster, this demon that you are good enough and you do deserve love and happiness.

“I, I’m not afraid of you,” you stood proudly in front of this giant. 

“No my dear child not of me, but of others.” Thanos said as he walked slowly to you, bringing out his hand to your cheek. You gave him a scowl, scoffing. 

“What do you mean?”

Thanos shook his head, “I know your deepest fear. Y/n, you are afraid of how others perceive you, how they think of you. You try your hardest to please others. You are the coward, you say you are not afraid but I know deep down you’re terrified.”

Your eyes were wide, “no, no, no, I’m not like that. Stop.”

“But of course you would be young one, you know how it feels to have your inner demons. To know your not good enough, not even good enough to be in this world.”

You started to shake your head, hands clutching the sides of it trying to not listen to those terrible words that have scarred you. Thanos smiling, knowing that he was getting to you. 

“Stop leave me alone you monster,” you cried out. 

Stephen came out and stood by you, “Y/n don’t listen to him. Remember what I told you. You are better than this.”

“Leave her be, let her make her own decisions. Y/n you are not happy with how you look, when you see yourself you see disgust. You are not afraid of me.”

You started shaking your head while tears were starting to come out, “no stop, stop!”

Stephen tried knocking sense in you, “Honey don’t listen to him, you are better than this. Remeber how much I care for you.”

Thanos kept going, “you are not afraid of death.”

“STOP! Just stop it!”

“No, you are afraid that no one will love you for who you are.”

At that being said it ignited something in you. All your power, the fire held inside you spilled out with a cry and shriek. 

Thanos eyes widened and he used the power stone to be able to go through the fire you ignited. 

“You are wrong about me Thanos! I have love, I have someone who loves me! You don’t, you know why, because you KILLED HER!”

Thanos used the power stone again on you to try to destroy you, but you were too powerful and uncontrollable to stop. 

All the fire coming out of your body amazed everyone, you were so powerful. With another cry more fire came out making Thanos go behind some boulders to shield himself from the flames. Stephen stared at you with immense respect, amazed at how you fought. After a time your body was drained from all the power you used. Your eyes felt heavy and your body wanted to just lay down. The fire stopped and you were normal now, you fell from up in the air but you were caught in a pair of strong arms. 

“I got you sweetheart,” came the soothing voice of your dear love, Stephen. 

You smile weakly, “I know.”

Thanos came to you both threatening to kill you. Of course Stephen loved you so much that he gave up the infinity stone to save you. 

He risked the whole world to save you.

“Why would you do that?”

Stephen just hugged you tightly like his life depended on it while kissing your forehead, “we’re in the end game now.”

You all waited for a sign, for something to show..anything. You hugged Stephen the whole time, enjoying what you didn’t know was the last moments together. 

Suddenly, Mantis disappeared like the wind. Your eyes widened and then it went to worse. Like a list, others started to become ashes right before your eyes, and you could not prevent it from happening. Next came Drax, then Peter Quill. Tony then went and looked at Stephen. Automatically you started crying, “no, please, don’t tell me...no please no.”

Stephen looked so guilty and so pained at you and Tony, “There was no other way.”

Stephen grabbed your face and kept his forehead to your, “Time is so important yet so short. No words can describe how much I love you and will always love you even in death. I love you y/n, I love you.”

Stephen starts to disappear making you sob. Your heart is broken and all that is left is his ashes. You start to feel strange and notice in your hands you are also turning into ashes. Tears start to form in your eyes but you welcome this feeling because no feeling is worse than the feeling you just experienced of losing Stephen. 

[the-comfy-wildkratt]

[AO3]

~Infinity - Chapter 4: Prototype~

The Creature Power Suits are just prototypes. Advanced prototypes, but nonetheless, they are still highly experimental and potentially dangerous pieces of equipment. As such, Aviva started out very careful and very paranoid.

The first time the Kratt brothers use the suits, absolutely everything is being monitored. They’re strapped to heart monitors and electrodes and Koki is off to the side running a constant scan with a datapad (also experimental but not nearly as potentially life-threatening).

It’s very simple, in Aviva’s mind, and compared to what they’ll be able to turn into late, just a domestic dog program (Aviva chose a Labrador). The brothers are still over the moon and it takes every ounce of self control they have to not go sprinting around the room, yelling and barking with excitement. They stand, quivering, as Aviva and Koki rapidly collect data and start asking questions, and Martin’s tail is wagging so hard that his whole body is wiggling. Chris is a little more thoughtful, and he only wags his tail once before looking a little startled and awed and holding it still.

Aviva asks them to do several simple tasks, things that they wouldn’t be able to do with normal human bodies, such as rotate their ears and lay them flat, and move their tails around on their own. Without being asked, Martin relates that he can’t see in color, but he can smell much better than normal.

After only five minutes, Aviva has them deactivate. So far she doesn’t know if the neural strain will be too much for the bodies and minds to handle, so it’s better to play it safe.

Later, Chris complains of a bit of a lingering headache, and Martin’s tailbone is sore, so Aviva writes that down. But everything has gone smoothly, it seems.

As the team gets to know each other and make plans for trips and start their highly experimental observation and conservation adventure, they run more and more tests on the suits, still being as careful as possible. By now Martin and Chris are champing at the bit, eager to take them out into the field, but Aviva still isn’t sure.

By this point she’s made dozens upon dozens of tweaks, adjusting the neural load and the basic programming. The brothers have been in the suits for up to an hour, and have put the suits through their paces as much as possible while still within the Tortuga, running, climbing, and making as much of a ruckus as possible. But Aviva hasn’t given them anything that makes them smaller than a medium sized dog, or bigger than a lion (which was a power they were absolutely ecstatic over). She hasn’t given them anything that will go to extremes, such as a giraffe’s long neck, either.

Aviva doesn’t know what the lasting effects of wearing the suit will be, if it will have long-term effects at all now that she’s worked out most of the major kinks, so she remains cautious. She knows that there are things she hasn’t even thought to test before they go out in the field, and the thought of her sensitive, highly experimental tech being broken, or worse, hurting someone, is almost too much to bear.

One day they don’t have the time to wait for tests.

They’ve been in the African grasslands, somewhere closer to the jungle, observing several rival prides of lions and the ecosystem around them, which has been tampered with by poachers a lot recently. The Kratt brothers are very cautious when they go out, most of the time right at dawn when the air is coolest.

Today is like any other, Koki running daily diagnostics and checks on the Tortuga, Jimmy doing a little light programming, and Aviva hard at work in the garage, grease stained to the elbows as she tinkers with a new idea for hovering bike. Chris and Martin have been gone for hours, but have checked in twice so that the crew knows they’re okay.

All of a sudden Aviva can hear an explosion of chatter from upstairs, closely followed by feet pounding up ramp. It’s unnerving, so Aviva hurries up to check on things. To her horror, she sees Chris yanking the green Creature Power Suit over his head, sweaty hair disheveled as he snatches the gloves out of the wall case and then jerks open the door to the blue suit’s case.

“What are you doing?” Aviva screeches, sprinting across the room.

He whips around and the look on his face is enough to make her choke on her next words. Wordlessly he grabs the blue Creature Power Suit, tucks it under one arm, and streaks out of the room, back down the ramp and into the hot savanna sun.

Koki is frantically throwing medical supplies into a bag as she pulls up a contact list on her datapad, and Jimmy catches Aviva up. She hears “poacher” and “gunshot” and “Martin still there” and dread coils in her stomach.

She’s grateful that the brothers left the ‘Createrra’ in the garage today, as her and the rest of the crew pile in and floor it after Chris, who has already vanished into the grass. She catches a glimpse of him at one point, in an activated lion power suit, his emerald fur gleaming in the sun.

They have to slow to make it around a hazardous section of terrain and the last she sees of Chris for a while is his tufted tail whipping away around the bend in a gully.

By the time Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy arrive on scene, there are no lions left except the Kratt brothers. She has no idea what just happened, but Chris is on the ground and Martin is sitting under a scrubby tree, gasping for breath with a gun broken in two beside him. Two men are perched precariously on thorny branches, obviously being held at bay by the blue-coated lion under their refuge.

Before the crew can so much as get out of the vehicle, Martin points at Chris. “See him,” he gasps out, pinkish froth bubbling at the corners of his mouth, “I’ve got these two.”

Koki has already called authorities so the crew just hurries over to where Chris is curled up on his side. Jimmy squawks at the sight of blood scattered on the grass when they get closer, and Chris cracks open one eye and gives a half smile. “Not mine,” he whispers.

Aviva knew it. She knew that they shouldn’t take the suits out in the field yet. They weren’t ready. This was one of the things she hadn’t thought to check on.

There are claw marks on Chris’s back, long gouges in the suit but none on the main chest piece, and one emotionless part of Aviva thinks good, the hardware isn’t badly damaged. But Chris is stiff with pain, his eyes pinched shut and face drenched with sweat. There’s no blood, because the wounds aren’t deep enough to have completely punctured the suit.

But Aviva hadn’t programmed around pain sensations. She’d been tweaking the senses but somehow never thought to touch this. Chris and Martin had gone careening around in the suits before and slammed into furniture and walls, but laughed and brushed it off, not even bruised, so Aviva hadn’t even thought about it. The suit connected to the nervous system, she should have realized that it would be a problem.

Shaking herself out of angry thoughts of failure, Aviva tries to reach the deactivation button, but Chris’s arms are clutched tightly to his chest. “You have to move your arms,” she tells him and he swallows hard but nods.

He moves his left arm very slowly and stiffly and Aviva checks to confirm that one of the gouges goes up and across his shoulder. The button is exposed now and she presses it home quickly, then frowns when nothing happens.

“Jammed,” Chris mutters.

Quickly Aviva looks for the emergency panel she’s installed on the back of the suit, and she swears under her breath as she realizes that one of the gouges has damaged it; there’s a possibility that it shorted out the main button to begin with.

She goes back to the chest button, whips a multitool out of her pocket, and digs at the little catch until the whole thing pops open. The power disc falls out of its slot but Aviva ignores it and looks further until she finds the little panel she needs. She picks away at it for several long seconds, during which she becomes aware of Chris holding his breath so as not to interrupt her work.

Finally she succeeds and the suit returns to its deactivated state with a glow of green light. Chris goes limp with a huge exhale of relief, only to wince stiffen up again with a hiss.

Frowning, Koki rests a hand on his sweaty hair. “What’s wrong, the suit’s deactivated now.”

“Phantom pain,” Chris moans, but then slowly props himself up onto one elbow, breathing hard. “I didn’t think it was an issue till now.”

Aviva gets locked into another fearful thought, and without any warning she reaches around Chris and undoes the suit, then yanks both his shirt and pullover up to his neck. He protests, but Aviva’s soft swear stops him.

There are shallow welts where the claw marks had gouged his suit, red and swollen.

“This isn’t anything I could’ve predicted,” Aviva mutters. She lets the shirt drop and sits back on her heels. “I’m so sorry Chris. I should’ve--”

He cuts her off with touch on her arm. “You didn’t know. And I was too reckless, I know.”

Aviva and Jimmy hurry to check on Martin, leaving Koki to take care of Chris. Martin is much the same as Chris, sitting stiff and sweating, his eyes slightly glazed. He holds up a hand.

“Don’t deactivate me yet,” he pants, “I’ve got to keep these guys pinned ‘till the authorities get here.”

“But the pain will ease once we turn it off.”

One of the poachers shifts on his perch and without warning, Martin whips around with his lips pulled back in a snarl; his canines are long and sharp and at the moment he looks like he could easily rip a man limb from limb without blinking. The poacher freezes, and Aviva and Jimmy can see the whites of his eyes as he darts a terrified look at his companion, who is equally stiff with fear.

When they stay still, Martin turns back around and sinks back to his haunches, his eyebrows scrunched together so tightly that they almost meet in the middle of his forehead. “I have to hold them at bay,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “just take care of Chris.”

“Koki’s got it covered.”

“Good.”

It takes the authorities over an hour to reach them; they’re far out in the brush of course. Martin’s face is drenched with sweat, mouth open as he pants to help regulate his temperature, and Aviva makes a mental note to adjust the heating and cooling systems in the suits. Chris has somehow dropped into a doze, his head pillowed on Koki’s knees. Jimmy is nervously planning a stress-cooking binge, listing ingredients under his breath and running through the Tortuga’s supplies in his head. Aviva stays by Martin, ready to deactivate him the instant the authorities arrive.

They do, in the form of two jeeps’ worth of men, well-armed and serious. Koki directed them to the poachers and as soon as they climb down from the tree and are handcuffed, Martin punches the button on his suit. His isn’t jammed and he slumps with relief once it’s back to normal.

The authorities take statements from all the crew, including Chris, who is awake and finally on his feet, albeit a bit stiff.

Aviva finally hears the story; the brothers were observing the pride when poachers had approached, and Chris immediately ran back to the Tortuga, knowing that things could get ugly.The poachers had shot a lioness and Martin had run to try to stop it, and in the ensuing scuffle, three men had fallen out of their truck, while the rest made their getaway. Between poachers and lions, Martin just went up a scrubby tree, and so did the poachers, but as Chris returned, the male lion had returned to his pride and started to climb up after them.

Unable to sit back and watch the men get slaughtered, Chris had rushed forward to distract the male lion. Martin joined in once he was able, and they fought for a bit before realizing that they were hopelessly overpowered by the male lion and turned tail to run. Seeing that, the pride had moved off, taking their injured lioness with them. One of the poachers escaped the second they were gone, but Martin and Chris came back in time to pin the other two in the tree again. At that point, Chris was in too much pain to keep going and just lay down where he could while Martin sat down to keep the men at bay, knowing that a two on two fistfight wouldn’t be ideal and thus keeping his suit activated.

Once the statements have been gathered, the authorities thank the crew and cart off the poachers. Exhausted, the Wild Kratts crew climb into the Createrra and drive home to the Tortuga, quiet. Jimmy drives, and Aviva is in the back with Koki and Chris, who is once more stretched out with his eyes closed, head in Koki’s lap. In the passenger seat up front, Martin is also resting, leaning back as far as possible with his eyes shut.

They get home to the Tortuga and after the girls help Chris and Martin to the showers and leave fresh clothes out for them, Aviva immediately takes the suits back upstairs and tosses them onto her desk, ready for the repair work and reprogramming she’ll have to do. Jimmy is already in the kitchen, dishes rattling as he cooks to calm himself down after the eventful afternoon.

Soon everyone is done cleaning up and showering, and they silently, collectively agree to gather in the common room with comfortable cushions and blankets. Jimmy’s stress cooking has produced spaghetti in a rich vegetarian cream sauce, with fresh baked bread in the oven and brownies already cooling on the rack. Aviva turns on a Disney movie of some sort, and they try to forget about the day for a few hours.

Two weeks later Aviva catches Chris and Martin stripping out of muddy clothes in the garage and she realizes that the welts on their backs have turned discolored, almost scar-like. Martin, whose white scars claw from the middle of his back all the way down to his right hip, confesses that he and Chris didn’t tell her for fear of her banning the suits forever.

She wants to be mad, but she’s honestly more upset and sad, and she has to admit that the suits are performing much better now, and they’ve been out on one more (very closely monitored) field test. She’d hate to rip that joy away from the brothers, because she can see that they love what they’re able to do.

So she doesn’t ban the suits.

After a month, the scars are almost invisible, and only show on rare occasions, such as drastic weather shifts. The suits are working better than ever, but Aviva still stays up late often, making sure that nothing similar can ever happen again.

[the-a-distant-soil-fanfic-s-blog]

Interlude

Title -- Interlude Author-- ANONYMOUS series -- A Distant Soil Disclaimer -- Colleen Doran owns all Rating -- NC-17 Characters/Pairing -- Corrine/Minetti Summary -- A quickee "C'mon, Italian Stallion. NOW!" "Now?" "Yes, right now!" Corrine pulled Tony Minetti into the alcove, planted her lips on his, then his neck, his jaw. "C'mon, we don't have much time!'

Minetti murmured, "Someone will hear us," without enthusiasm, because his hands were busy enthusiastically making his way up Corrine's skirts. Corrine smirked. "They'll be jealous. Who cares? They're all grownups. They know what fucking is." Minetti pulled back a little, but his hand was still exploring. "Well, not Liana..." Corinne's hand matched Minetti's in its eagerness for exploration. "She can grab Galahad and find out. Tony, I am so wet, I need you now!" She could feel his hands fumbling over the catch on his trousers. He'd never quite figured out how the alien clothes worked, but soon his cock sprang free and he was placing it at her wet nether lips without further preamble. "Oh, baby, you are wet!" "Always for you. No prep necessary, just give it to me! C'mon, honey!" She groaned as he slipped into her, his thickness just the way she liked it, and so strong. He pushed home quickly with a moan, and put it to her, pumping hard and fast, with the desperate need that both of them always felt for each other. Tender and desperate passion that made them helpless as teenagers, running off to grab stolen moments, unable to resist the pull of one another's bodies. He pushed into her, both of them still standing, propped against a wall, her skirts up and her leg hooked around his waist, encouraging him to push her harder, with her hand down his trousers on his ass, fingering the cleft. "OH, God! Oh, God, Corrine!" "Baby, honey, JESUS, I love the way you fuck! You're like a god damned piston!" Minetti laughed, still pumping into her, nearing his peak quickly. She let out a little squeal. "And you give me multiples. God bless you!" He laughed again. God, he is gorgeous, she thought. That face, that chest, that thick black hair... "You're beautiful. Michelangelo carved you..." He faltered a little in his rhythm, taken aback by the compliment. "You don't think of yourself as beautiful? I do. Gorgeous. My gorgeous man..." "Corrine...Jesus...I..I think I love you." "You think?" "Jesus...!" She squeaked again. "Another one! Oh, my God!" "I"m going to come!" "Do it to me, baby..." He cried out and went for it, going at her with all his strength. She loved the feel of him, the thick hard cock, the length of it. Everything about him felt so right for her. He spasmed and groaned his pleasure into her with a final shudder, his head thrown back, the great column of his neck exposed and beautiful and exactly like the sculpture Corrine was thinking of. Michelangelo's David, spilling into her hot thick cum. She smiled and laughed, "Oh, yes..." He sighed and collapsed against her, barely able to stay on his feet. Suddenly he looked so young, so vulnerable, the great thick black lashes of his eyes resting on his flushed cheek. Enormous, deep brown eyes. Beautiful eyes. He had no idea how beautiful. "That's it. That's my baby," Corrine murmured, brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead, talking him into calm. She kissed his face, the ridge of his brow, that strong jaw, just now showing the growth of beard again. Slightly rough, but incredibly soft skin beneath. Beautiful. "I love you," he said, those big brown eyes fixed on her green eyes. She smiled. "I love you too, baby...mmmm...Tony, do you think we have time for another fuck?" "No, actually, you don't." "Brent! You asshole!" Minetti didn't have enough energy to rage with anything more than his voice. And he was still deep inside Corrine. She wiggled a little, just to torture him, and he groaned again. Her leg was still around his waist affording them a measure of modesty from Brent's eye, but it was obvious what their body parts were doing to one another. "Kovar says we gotta suit up and get going. Don't be pissed at me, just giving the message." "You don't have to stand and watch!" Brent snorted. "Like I care! You're not doing anything I haven't done before." Corrine laughed. "Not with us, sweetie. A little privacy, please." Brent shrugged. "Hey, because you asked." He sauntered off. "JESUS!" Minetti added some choice swears in a murmur, which delighted her, and she wriggled her hips to taunt him again. "Oh, please Corrine, I need some time to..." "I know my sweet baby. I know. I'll be waiting. I am going to be very, very hot for you when you get back. Very hot and wet and ready. So you come back in one piece now, and you be ready to stick it to me with my favorite piece. And I will give you the suck and fuck and ride of your life!" He groaned and let his cock slide out of her, trembling, bracing his arm against the wall. Then he kissed her, long and slow. He let that kiss roam across her face, her eyes, her hair. She backed away from him, pulling down her skirts while he awkwardly fastened his trousers with trembling fingers. Then he looked at her again with those stunning dark eyes, and left her to watch him walk away. Soon Minetii joined the others at the shuttle, Kovar, Galahad, and Brent. He felt a pang of guilt even thinking of fornicating near the virginal Galahad, who was oblivious to Brent's knowing smirk. Kovar's face, always stoic, seemed to have a slightly elevated eyebrow as decoration. "This shouldn't take long," Kovar said, helpfully. Minetti feigned innocence. "Oh, well whatever it takes. We're going to pick up some contraband weapons, right?" "Yes." Kovar's hands flew across the ship's control board and the men took their seats. There was silence and then, "Don't be concerned. I'm able to block you," said Kovar. "Block me?" "Your arousal. You're broadcasting desire." "What?" Kovar blinked. Then took in a deep breath. "Your strong emotions are escaping you." "They sure were escaping him in the hallway," Brent offered, unhelpfully. Minetti sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, flushed with embarrassment. Galahad, ever the gentleman, looked pointedly out the window and pretended not to know what was going on. "You can tell...?" "Yes," said Kovar quietly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You enjoy your woman. This is a good thing." Minetti tried Galahad's tactic of looking pointedly out the window. "It's a good thing I'd like to keep to myself." "That's what I'm doing for you," said Kovar. Minetti's embarrassment deepened. It was bad enough that he was broadcasting to everyone in psychic mojo range that he was horny, but feeling churlish toward the man who was protecting him from making a mental porn movie of his recent act was thorny emotional prairie. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be an ass about it." "No matter." Minetti sighed and studied condensation on the window. "Is this normal?" Kovar thought for a moment. And then, "Pleasure and pain bring down barriers. It happens to us all. But, of course, for you, with no power, it is more difficult. This is why we have wards. Psychic boundaries. The wards of Teramis specialize in this. Protecting others from invasion of privacy from stronger minds, or from vulnerable moments. That is our purpose. That is my duty to the Avatar." Brent snorted. "I bet you spend a lot of time dealing with Avatar sex. Dude is so hot for D'mer, but he's fucking Bast. What is up with that?" Minetti rerouted. "And do you get vulnerable moments?" "That is a polite way of asking if I lose control when I have sex." Minetti heard Brent shuffle his body forward, the better to eavesdrop. "I'm a ward by training. My job is to ward the Avatar. But yes, it happens. Sometimes." "That must be some fuck then, to break your down your walls, man," said Brent. Kovar rewarded him with a rare laugh. "Yes! Yes, indeed." Then Kovar hesitated again. "We're making Galahad uncomfortable." Brent patted Galahad's leg. "Sorry, dude." Galahad smiled wanly. "No matter," he said, unconvincingly. Kovar glanced back at the knight, who looked withdrawn and pale. "There's no shame in being a virgin, Galahad. Many of my wards are celibate. They take vows to preserve their shields." "Ah," was Galahad's unenthusiastic response. "I think we should let the matter drop," offered Minetti. "I'd like to know who it is can get into Kovar's shorts and make him lose it," said Brent. "TMI," Minetti groaned. Kovar smiled. "I've had a few." Brent snorted. "I bet you have." "Yes. I have..." Kovar steered the ship over for a landing. "Let's get this over with," he said. "And get you back to your lover. For by the God, man, your passion for that woman is a distraction to me." Brent burst into laughter. "Jesus!" Minetti sighed. Kovar laughed again. Galahad pinched his brow and said a little prayer.

[feeling-freckled]

Breathtaking In Black (Part 5)

A/N: As a Halloween present, part 5 is done and published :).  I apologize for being awful at writing action scenes well, but I did what I could. Enjoy!

Read it on Ao3

Read Part 4

After Adrien’s visit, Marinette had lied down for nap number two and ended up accidentally sleeping through the night.  She had never slept for such a long period of time in her life, but clearly her body needed the rest.  The Halloween ball was now only a day away, and she still needed to finish up final touches on the two costumes before she could even begin to mentally prepare herself for the dance she had promised a certain someone that night.

“Rise and Shine Marinette!” Tikki sang as she floated past her chosen.  “I think you’ve had enough sleep for one night.”  Marinette took in a deep breath and threw the covers off of her body.  She sat up and swung her legs around till her feet gently touched the floor of her loft.  She wasn’t going to be late to school today.  

“Don’t worry Tikki.  I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”  Mari quickly changed her clothes, brushed her hair into two pigtails and then ran down stairs to brush her teeth.  She scrubbed her face, applied deodorant and was down in the kitchen ready for breakfast in record time.  

“Well it’s certainly a surprise to see you up and active this early,” her mother noted out loud as she poured her daughter a bowl of cereal and milk.  Marinette thanked her mother and allowed herself to take her time a bit with the food in front of her.  It had been so long since Marinette was actually up in time to enjoy breakfast.  After spooning the last bite into her mouth, she quickly gathered her books into her backpack and hugged her mother before heading out the door.  This would be her first time actually getting to school early in months.

Of course, with Marinette’s luck she really should have seen the akuma attack coming.  Just as she was making her way up the front steps of the school, several screams erupted throughout the city.  A loud rumbling sound echoed out followed by evil laughter.  “This can’t seriously be happening today.  Please tell me I’m dreaming,” Marinette begged as she took off running toward the sound.

As she ran, Marinette passed a large crowd of civilians running in the opposite direction. She rounded a corner and stopped immediately as the whole scene unraveled before her.  The buildings around her were all covered in large vines that appeared to be growing at an alarming rate.  Civilians were getting wrapped up in vines and dragged down the street by their legs.

Marinette followed the vines to see where they all met at the base of a giant venus fly trap.  A man in a fluorescent green lab coat and a red elastic suit covered in roses was standing at the very top of the plant, laughing as people were dragged toward its mouth-like trap.  The akuma victim had a single golden gardening glove on one hand that was being held in place by a vine wrapped tightly about his wrist.  

“This does not look good at all,” Marinette huffed as she ducked behind a building.  “Tikki spots on!” she called out as her transformation enveloped her in a bright pink light.  She quickly pulled out her magical yo-yo and prepared to through herself right into the middle of the chaos.  

*          *          *          *          *        

   Back at Collège Françoise Dupont, students and teachers were still unaware of the turmoil occurring just a few blocks away.  Adrien was sitting in his usual seat and was extremely distressed to see that Marinette was not sitting behind him.  Maybe she’s just running late as usual he hoped silently as he forced himself to take notes.  Ms. Bustier was reading a passage from Romeo and Juliet to the class just as Principle Damocles’s voice came on over the loudspeaker.

“Attention students and staff of Collège Françoise Dupont.  An akuma attack has broken out downtown.  Ladybug is already on the scene, but the situation remains highly dangerous.  Families have been alerted and everyone is dismissed for the rest of the school day.  Please go straight home in an orderly fashion and stay safe.”  The loudspeaker clicked off and all students quickly jumped up from their seats to begin packing their things and exiting the classroom as orderly as possible.

“Why now?  Why today?” Adrien huffed as he descended the staircase outside the school and turned down a nearby alley way.

Plagg flew out of Adrien’s bag and Adrien stuffed the bag underneath a dumpster before taking a deep breath and turning to his kwami.  “At least I get to see m’lady.  It’s been a while, and I really need to talk to her,” he reminded Plagg as a warm smile and light blush crossed his face.   Plagg rolled his eyes and let out a clear huff of distress.  “Just make this quick, I’m starving!” he complained.  Adrien nodded and took a moment to prepare himself before calling on his transformation.

“Plagg. Claws out!”  A bright green light flashed throughout the alley and left behind a very determined Chat Noir.  “ Can’t leave a lady waiting,” he declared before using his staff to catapult himself out of the alley and toward the screams he heard just a few blocks away.

*          *          *          *          *

   Marinette had immediately sprung into action and was working to free as many civilians as she could from the series of vines that the villain seemed to be controlling.  She was able to free a large number of civilians, but knew she was going to have to defeat the man at the top of the plant in order to save the few she had been too late to free.

Two large vines came speeding toward her at an incredible pace.  they wound their way through obstacles with incredible accuracy as the villain waved his hand around to guide them after her.  Marinette was able to maneuver herself out of the vines’ paths just as they reached out to close in around her ankles.  The vines wrapped around each other and collapsed in a large knot on the ground.  Marinette turned her attention back toward the civilians she had freed. She guided them to safety and tried her best to focus on the task at hand so that she would be as calm and collected as possible when Chat showed up.

She had quickly figured out that the akuma was located in the victim’s gardening glove that he seemed to be using to control the vines.  That was really the only information she had been able to gather while running around, taking out vine after vine.  After all of the civilians were free of the plant’s clutches and out of the area, Ladybug landed on top of the building directly in front of the akumatized victim so that she could begin gathering information from him from a safe distance.  Her plan was to distract him by letting him talk about himself and his mission in order to by time for Chat to get his tail to the scene.

“Hey!” she yelled out in order to get the villain’s attention.  His head snapped up towards her and his hand dropped back to his side.  “I don’t know what has made you feel so angry, but I’m sure I can help you if you’ll let me!” She called out.  Compromise had never really gotten her or Chat very far in the past, but she still preferred to sympathize with victim rather than immediately start throwing fists.

“ You know it isn’t very nice of you to deprive my beloved plant of her precious food,” he sneered back at her from his perch.  “People like you are the reason that our environment is in the terrible shape that it is.”

“Who are you and what exactly are you trying to gain from all of this?” Marinette asked.  Please Chat. Hurry! She prayed in her head.

He smiled wickedly back at her and proudly introduced himself to the young hero.  “I am The Vine Tamer.  Ever since I was young, I’ve been made fun of for my love of plants and gardening.  Humans take nature for granted and I think it’s time the environment fought back against the humans that have plagued it with pollution and waste for centuries.”    

“ Using these people as food isn’t exactly environmentally friendly,” a familiar voice called back from directly behind ladybug.  Chat had landed behind her silently and took the remaining steps to stand beside his partner.  “I’m sorry M’lady,” he said with a slight bow.  “I hope this guy wasn’t too much of a thorn in your side while I was gone.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the pun.  “Nice of you to join us Kitty.  We were just getting acquainted,” She replied.  As Chat lifted his foot to take a step closer to his partner, a large vine crashed down on the roof between them.  The heroes quickly turned their attention back to the Akumatized man before them.  

“Well now that you are both here, there are a few items you have that I need.”  The man rose his hand up into the air and several smaller vines flew toward Ladybug and Chat Noir who lept from the building just in time to avoid them.  For an agonizingly long amount of time, the heroes worked together to fight off vines, rescue civilians and get closer to retrieving the possessed gardening glove.        

Chat was put on distraction duty as always, while Marinette called on her lucky charm.  An almost comically large can of weed killer.  Well at least this time it was something obvious.  Marinette knew exactly what she needed to do, but it was much easier said than done.  She ran out from behind a building into plain view of the giant plant.

“Alright you thorny beast.  If you want me, come and get me!” she called out before running directly toward the base of the plant.

“What are you doing?” Chat called out from up above.  “You’re going to get yourself eaten!”

“That’s the idea!” she replied just as a vine wrapped its way around her waist and began dragging her upward toward the plant’s large mouth.  Flashbacks of the Animan incident ran through Chat’s head as he watched the love of his life allow herself to be eaten by a giant monster before his eyes a second time.  

The Vine Taimer held his hand out over the plant’s mouth and allowed Ladybug to dangle above the opening as he spoke.  “Your sacrifice in the name of nature is much appreciated Ladybug.”  his voice echoed in Chat’s ears as he tried his hardest to figure out Ladybug’s plan.  There was no way she would truly give herself up right?  He just had to trust her. “Before I drop you down into my adored plant’s mouth, I’ll need you to hand over your earrings of course.”

Ladybug smiled wickedly back at the villain and held out the large can of lethal chemicals for him to see.  “While the Miraculous are magical, I have an even better gift for your plant right here!” she called out before tossing the can into the mouth below her.  The villain cried out and attempted to grab the can with a vine before it made its way inside of his Venus fly trap, but he was too late.  The trap closed around the can and it burst open to fill the plant with deadly chemicals.  

The vines all began to shrivel up and hit the sidewalk.  Ladybug broke free of the dead vine still wrapped around her middle, and prepared her yo-yo as the plant began to collapse in on itself.  The Vine Tamer fell as the plant collapsed beneath him, and was caught mid air by Ladybug’s yo-yo.

“Chat now!”  Ladybug called out.  Adrien swooped down on the falling villain and grabbed the glove off of his hand as they passed each other.  

One cataclysm later, the akuma was freed.  Ladybug quickly cleansed it and her miraculous cure whirled throughout the city.  The remains of the dead venus fly trap were erased along with the harsh chemicals that had killed it.  The people it had consumed were freed and the nearby buildings were all instantly repaired.  A young scientist lie in the center of it all on the pavement.

“Where am I?  What just happened?” he asked as he began to take in his surroundings.

“You were akumatized,” Ladybug replied as she approached him.  “But you have nothing to worry about, everyone is safe now.”  The man smiled up at her and Marinette offered him her hand.  She helped the man to his feet.

“Thank you very much,” he responded before shaking her hand and heading off.  Ladybug turned her attention back toward her partner as he walked over to her.

“I thought we agreed you were never going to do that again,” he said as he crossed his arms.  After Animan, Chat was very nervous and upset about the whole allowing herself to be eaten thing and in the moment Ladybug had agreed to be more careful in the future.

Her earrings let out their first beep and she knew she’d have to wrap this up quickly if she didn’t want to detransform on her way back to the school.  She sighed and closed the space between them.  “I’m very sorry if I worried you, but I had to do it to defeat the akuma.  Besides, you have sacrificed yourself in battle how many times?  You can’t really give me grief for doing it twice.”

“That’s completely different!” Chat noir yelled at her.  

“Oh really?  And how exactly is it different?”  Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.  She was right.  There really wasn't a huge difference, and he wasn’t really being fair.  He just loved her so much, and wouldn’t know what to do if he let something happen to her.  Still, he should have taken her feelings into account.

“Okay I guess the two situations really aren’t that different,” he sighed.  His expression softened and he wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug.  Ladybug relaxed a bit into his hug then quickly tensed up as a second beep rang out in her ear.  This time, the sound came from both of their jewelry.

“Well that's our cue to split.  I promise to be more careful as long as you promise to stop putting my life above yours all of the time.  Deal?”  Adrien still wasn’t fully satisfied with that deal, but if it meant she’d be more careful than he’d agree to it for now.

“Okay, sounds fair,” he responded with a warm smile.  She took a step back and held out her fist.  Adrien happily returned the fist bump.  

A third beep rang out from their miraculous and Marinette pulled out her yo-yo.  “Oh, before we part there was one thing I wanted to ask you,” Chat stated.  “Tomorrow night I was wondering if we could meet at the eiffel tower around midnight.  There is something really important I need to speak with you about.”  

Marinette was very confused, but agreed to meet him.  The dance would end around 10:00 and she’d have plenty of time to meet him there.  

“Eiffel tower tomorrow at midnight it is,” she replied with a nod before throwing her yo-yo out and flying out of sight.  Chat smiled up as he watched her disappear into the city.

“I can’t wait m’lady,” he whispered to himself before running off in the other direction.          

Read Part 6

[merryfortune]

The Moon As An Omen of Hope

Commissioned Prodigyshipping fic for @seasaltmemories

Ko-Fi

  The one who watches the world is not the sun, but rather the moon: a vision soft upon the eyes and realms, eternal though waxing and waning with the days. Though such beauty has not been known to the worlds, not for a long time. Even Reiji was beginning to forget such brilliance. The world has not known the shine of the moon for a long time for she is kept inside of a locked tower. Tall and ivory, she is kept at the top.

  He smiles. A sadistic expression upon a thin and cruel face. He approaches the tower. There’s a deceptive, luminous sheen upon the pale colouring of the ivory but it’s decayed over time; gone grey with age. He wonders when was the last time the world knew the tranquillity and beauty of the moon?

  “Serena!” he called out on the top of his lungs. “I am a… a human who has come to free you from your enshrining! My people wish to know your glory once more and so, I have been elected champion; in exchange for your freedom, I would like a favour.”

  His voice echoes. The barren wasteland that surrounds the tower is eerily quiet. The echoes of his voice soon sink into the air silence returns like he had never spoken, to begin with.

  “Serena!” Reiji yells once more. “I am the son of Queen Himika of the Human Realm and I have come to free you in exchange for a favour!”

  His voice does not shake the world. The glow of the tower pales. He could feel some sort of moodiness emanate.

  “Perhaps I ought to demonstrate my wit then because I can assure you, I mean no jest when I say I have come to free you for a favour.” Reiji said.

  At the base of the tower is a seal. He supposes the seal is something like a door. The seal is shaped like a blocked archway. The keystone is engraved with his father’s insignia: an ominous warning to even the foolhardy. The blockade is created from bizarre rocks choked with roses and thick, thorny vines.

  Reiji picked at the vines. Just as he predicted, slash one vine and from its withering dredges, another two will form. But, that was through ordinary human weapons, a mere knife, but Reiji had far more powerful tools in his arsenal.

  He placed his hand in the centre. It was cool to the touch. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Under his breath, he muttered all number of incantations. Slowly, the vines shrivelled and wilted. Disintegrated until their dust was but nothingness. The keystone glowed. From a purple glow, it changed to scarlet. The etching upon it changed from a sword emblazoned within a clover to three, interlocked triangles that were all pointed to the right.

  Reiji’s breath hitched in his throat. His own insignia superimposed upon his father’s. He smirked. It is a strangely satisfying sight and one that will grow to be common.

  “I am coming inside now and I would like to begin a discussion on what I would like in exchange for giving you freedom. I have a simple request to beg of you that I believe you will find most satisfying.” Reiji said.

  He entered the tower. The luminous glow of the ivory was slightly stronger in here. Strong enough for his eyes to ache but he continued to march up a spiral set of staircases to the very peak of the tower. The insides of the tower were bare and plain but there was enrichment suitable for a warrior to hone their skills here but most, was broken.

  By the time dawn broke, the luminous glow of the tower eased off. By the time dawn broke, Reiji had finally reached the penthouse of the tower.

  “I’ve been waiting, Son of Himika.”

  She was beautiful. She sat, waiting, on the floor. Her indigo hair was tied up in a plait that fed into a ponytail. Her eyes were fierce and a vibrant green, like a fertile meadow. Her face was as pale as moonlight. She wore the garments and vestiges of a dancer: elegant raiments and silks but her white-knuckled hands seemed to belong more to a sellsword than an entertainer.

  “Or, should I say, Son of Leo.”

  “I am not the Son of Leo.” Reiji boldly contested the Moon Goddess’ assertion of his lineage.

  “You reek of illegitimacy; a half-breed of human and god. I can see him in your eyes: thirsting for war. No mere mortal has access to such powerful magic that can override the will of the King of All.”

  “I have not been that devil’s son since I was a child.”

  Serena sneered. Reiji’s voice was thick with loathing for Leo. For now, Serena decided that she will trust that.

  “For what purpose have you broken into my shrine?”

  “To free you.” he said. “For a price.”

  “The price being?”

  “I require a bodyguard. I have a quest in mind and whilst my magic is powerful, it is ill-suited for combat. Someone of my lineage would attract all sorts of demons and vagrants but if I were in the company of someone of your strengths, I would feel much safer. Besides, when was the last time the Moon got to the see the World? After wasting away, imprisoned, since the last Civil War in this tower, I thought you would be salivating at such opportunity to see how things have changed.”

  “The world has become a wasteland. Without the powers of the En Goddesses, the entire realm has become a plane not unlike Hell. All thanks to the madness of your father.” Serena crossed her arms. “But even if the world has turned ugly and wretched, I want to see it. I want to see how things have changed since my sister Yuzu perished.”

  “My condolences.” Reiji replied.

  “Yes, well, her sacrifice was in vain. Leo succeeded in bringing about the End of the World for nothing. How is the old coot, anyway?”

  “Usurped.” Reiji said.

  “What?” Serena sputtered, rising to her feet.

  “Killed by a human child.” Reiji continued.

  “I refuse to believe that to be the truth.” Serena snapped.

  She stomped towards Reiji and grabbed him by his lapels.

  “Queen Himika avenged herself. Using her chosen child, my brother, as a pawn, she was able to kill Leo. However, his agents remain and it is possible, for him to resurrect so it is best to not become too hopeful.”

  Serena let Reiji go. She shook, trembled.

  “Leo… is dead.”

  “As of a few days ago, yes, which is why I can free you with no consequences. It is time to begin anew, I believe. Your return will bring hope.”

  “This is madness, surely not?”

  “Humans are capable of much more than we divine beings give them credit for. Surely, they can salvage hope when they see the Moon in the sky once more after decades of pitch black nights. Perhaps, the world will turn green even though the En Goddess of Flowers is deceased. I believe a new era will be upon us now and someone must keep a record of it.”

  Serena laughed bitterly. “Ready to ascend are you, Halfling? To shed your humanity?”

  “I see no godliness in my duty.” Reiji replied as he readjusted his glasses. “Just a chance to amend the dreadfuls acts of Leo.”

  “Reiji… Patron God of Knowledge and History? Has a good ring to it, don’t you think?” Serena teased.

  “Anonymous, a History of the World As We Know It.” Reiji corrected her, not hearing any jape in her manner of speech.

  “You’re a strange one, Halfling.” Serena commented. She drew back and eyed him up.

  It was true, physically there was little resemblance between the youth before her and the man who had taken her prisoner but still. She was wary. She knew that warring blood was in his veins and they said that blood was thicker than water. She wanted to know if his promises of freedom were trustworthy.

  “Tell me, Halfling, in exchange for my freedom and the hope of the humans, just my presence as a bodyguard? A travelling companion? Nothing else?”

  “Nothing else.” Reiji affirmed.

  Serena closed her eyes as she unwounded a pale pink scarf from her neck. Her magic flowed into and the silk was dyed a fervent crimson.

  “A gift… To make my job easier.” she said, a touch standoffish. “So long as you wear this scarf in my presence, your being becomes impervious to all magics, blades, and arrows: anything that could bring you harm. So long as you wear it, you will be guarded. And now, we leave. I want to see what was left of the world. I want to take heart and hope despite your advice, I want to believe Leo will never rise from the Underworld.”

  “I understand.” Reiji said and he lowered his head.

  Serena stood on her tiptoes. She coiled the scarf around Reiji’s neck and tied it in a loose knot. She kissed his forehead, he opened his eyes, surprised.

  “Thank you.” she said, sincerity deeply ingrained in her voice. Tears were dripping out of her eyes as she once more, tried to comprehend the truth that seemed more like lies. “I have been here for… for… I don’t even know how long and now I am free and the world is rid of Leo. I… I can’t believe it.”

  “I just wish I could have rescued you sooner.” Reiji replied.

  Serena reared back. “Well then, it is time to leave. There is no use in staying any longer.”

  “I agree. There is much of the world to see, after all, and many things to pen.”

  “You better not bore me.” Serena huffed. “I can’t stand dullness.”

  “I understand but I assure you, the history of all that is and all that ever will be, is fascinating.”

  “I’m holding that to you, Halfling.”

  Reiji took a breath and found himself to be in the belief that he was going to be in very good company. The scent of her perfume lingered on the scarf. It was not unpleasant. As they walked, as they descended down the ivory staircase, they were shoulder to shoulder, hands brushing up against one another. It was odd.

  By the time they left the tower, twilight had broken. The barren wasteland was pitiful, even in the colours of the night: hues of blue and black but tonight, it was different. The Moon had returned to the sky and was a vision of elegance: an omen of a new era of hope and tranquillity.

[wistfulcynic]

CSSNS Sneak Peek: The Very Witching Time

My CSSNS drops TOMORROW!! 

I’m very excited for a number of reasons. 

FIRST because this is such a fun event and I love reading the brilliant and creative stories everyone comes up with and how you all inspire me to be creative myself and to take risks. 

SECOND I am excited because the main risk I’ve taken with this fic is writing a version of Killian who is cursed as a dog. I know Killian-as-animal is not everyone’s cup of tea, but I hope you’ll give this one a chance. He’s a dog but also still very much himself, and @thisonesatellite has already threatened to fight me for him. 

She’d lose. 

Anyway, I love dog!Killian and I love witch!Emma and I love the story of this fic and the atmosphere that’s grown around it. It’s spooky and creepy and full of witchcraft and lore, but also warm and funny with plenty of Storybrooke characters making an appearance.

The THIRD reason I am excited is because @gingerchangeling has produced some absolutely STUNNING art for it. She has really captured the atmosphere of the setting and I think the relationship between Emma and Killian. 

BEHOLD: 

I mean. It’s gorgeous. I am blown away and can’t thank her enough. 

The FINAL reason I am excited is because for the first time ever I have a fic mostly all written before I start posting. This means that I can have an actual posting schedule like a proper adult. Chapter One drops tomorrow and the rest will come every Wednesday until they’re gone. Four in all is the plan. 

THANK YOU to @cssns for this event and to Krystal for inviting me to join it. It’s been a blast! 

SNEAK PEEK: 

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it. 

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse. 

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised. 

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all. 

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding. 

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart. 

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.  

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness. 

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did. 

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it. 

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks. 

{Please help me.}

(and please let me know if you would like to be tagged on updates! Thanks for reading!)