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littlemisslol-fic · 4 years ago

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The mansion was supposed to be abandoned, Hugo knows.

He's wrong.

OOPS A DAY LATE but hopefully from the size of this installment it's kind of obvious why lmao Thanks for reading guys!! And a BIG kudos to @alistairwrites who set this whole thing up! I had SO MUCH FUN BRO!!!

This is a terrible fucking idea.

Hugo's had a lot of terrible ideas- too many to count, really- but there’s something almost special about this one.

With an angry grunt the blond pushes his way through the rough foliage of the overgrown patch of forest he finds himself in. It’s a scraggly, rough chunk of terrain; he’s already eaten shit enough times to really be ready to call it quits… but Donella would ream him if he came back empty handed again. The scowl set into his face only deepens, pale skin drawing tighter and tighter around his mouth as he stubs his stupid toe on another stupid rock, and- oh, thank the Maker he can see light.

The moon’s high in the sky, full and round like an uncracked egg. The forest is bathed in a blue light, so Hugo spots the warm orange glow of his target with almost hilarious ease. Really, if these stupid magical fucks want to hide so damn badly, they should really try harder-

Hugo swears loudly as he trips over a gnarled root sticking up from the musty earth.

“Fucks-sake,” He hisses, face down in the damp soil. He can feel the grit of dirt between his teeth- disgusting- and hastily shoves his glasses up onto his face with a growl. This artifact Donella wants had better be worth it; Hugo deserves a vacation after walking out here for the last three days. It had been that long since the nearest town, at least, where he’d looked at the path leading out of the small village, turned ninety degrees away, and started walking into the thick brush. Donella had told him that what she wanted was buried deep in the Coronian forests, in one of the supposed magician’s little hideaways.

As he draws closer, he can feel a buzzing in the air, almost like electricity- but as Hugo draws near enough to see his prey, he can’t help but grin. Classic, stupid assholes; even out in the middle of the woods someone was bound to eventually find their hideout; no wonder they’d been so easy for Donella to track. Hugo scoffs as he hunkers down into a bush, peeking out into the clearing beyond with a calculating glare.

Before him lies a large mansion, old and creepy as all hell, but well maintained. It isn’t a large footprint- but it’s tall, with a high vaulted roof and thin but long windows capped in perfect arches. The old Victorian mansion has a large, wooden porch that wraps around, jutting out like a great creeping maw near the front door- ready to devour anything that got too close. The faded paint was once a cheery blue, from the looks of it, but the building has long since faded to a depressing grey. The wood was obviously chipping away with the beats of time, ivy and other plants slowly climbing upwards like creeping hands.

Hugo shudders- he doesn’t exactly believe in ghosts, but that place looks haunted as fuck.

But it’s also the place he needs to be. Hugo bites the inside of his cheek, looking out over the unkept lawn and gnarled gardens, seeing only one of the windows has light coming from it. It’s around the back of the house- and had been the glow that had led Hugo to the building in the first place. A small flickering shine of a single candle, probably in a side room or hallway. That meant that whoever was inside was long asleep- which is perfect for Hugo’s purposes.

Donella had been brief with her descriptions of the manor and of Hugo’s objective. His mentor wasn’t one to mince words; get in, get the artifact, get out she’d told him. Easy grab, in and out, the usual bullshit.

Hugo hunkers down a little deeper into the bush he’s hiding in. The front door’s out- if anything’s going to be rigged it’s the doors- but Hugo can see one or two sneaky-bastard-sized windows scattered around the first floor. Donella had said that the magician’s leader, a weaselly little weirdo, used this place to guard their most priceless artifacts and treasures… such a shame, then, that they’d forgotten rumors could spread from even the tightest of lips with enough persuasion.

A pity, but their loss is his gain- and Donella’s victory.

Hugo slowly leaves the safety of his hiding place, creeping towards the manor with practiced footsteps; they’re so light they would barely snap a blade of grass. As he draws closer, the mansion seems to rise like a monolith, great and imposing as its silhouette blots out the moon. Hugo shudders again, huddling close in the deep shadow caused by the building. He creeps close to one of the windows, a smaller one innocently embedded in the side of the house. Hugo drops his satchel in the dirt, idly hearing it thump. He wraps spindly fingers under the window, giving it a testing tug upwards- and to Hugo’s infinite delight it slides up and open, revealing the curtains drawn shut beyond. The blond has to laugh, how stupid were these people, idly poking a testing hand through the window to split the faded red curtains aside. Inside he can see what looks like a sitting room of some kind, a large space full of chairs and shelves upon shelves of books and assorted trinkets.

Jackpot.

With the quiet movements of a trained thief he slips into the room, his boots landing soundlessly on the carpet. The room’s dark, nearly pitch black in the gloom of the late evening. He’s definitely in a sitting room of some kind, he can see an assortment of trinkets and artifacts -staffs, jewelry, crowns, idols, the room was a literal treasure trove. Hugo’s green eyes widen in delight at the sight of them all, the blond reaching backwards towards the window to grab his bag.

But his hand never makes it.

As if touching glass, his hand stops short on the threshold of the window. It’s like touching a perfectly invisible object, something flat and crackling with energy. Hugo’s mouth goes dry- Donella hadn’t told him about any sort of wards or spells protecting the manor, but obviously they have some kind of crazy magic bullshit in place. Hugo smacks his hand against the force a few more times, growing more and more desperate as the seconds tick by.

“Shit,” He mutters with each hit, the small thumps reverberating around the quiet room, “Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit-”

By the Maker- he’s fucked. Hugo can feel something like panic claw up in throat from his chest- he’s stuck, that much is obvious, trapped in this shitty, haunted mansion, for Maker knows how long-

Footsteps.

Hugo dives behind a chaise before he can think about it, the purple fabric of it seeming almost black in the night lighting. Hugo can see, through the crack at the bottom of the door across the room, a moving light. The footsteps grow louder- the hallway must have wooden floors- and the light turns into a proper beam, starting on the left side of the door. Someone must be walking by, probably with a candle or some kind of light, Hugo realizes. He hunkers down just the little more in his hiding place, holding his breath as the beam of light passes, moving from one side of the door to the other, the footsteps never faltering as the person walks by with even measure.

Finally, after an agonizing few seconds, the person passes. The footsteps fade away, and the light grows dimmer and dimmer before vanishing entirely. Hugo lets out the breath he’d been holding- his lungs burn. He begins to slouch a bit, pressing his back a little more against the chaise as he breathes.

“Okay, stupid.” He mutters into the empty room. “What are we going to do now?”

The open window stares back at him, mocking him, a tempting wrong answer to his problems. The cool summer air blows in from the open window, fluttering the curtains in a fun little fuck you to Hugo’s predicament- by the Maker he’d really fumbled this, and he’d only gone into one room.

Donella’s going to kill him.

Okay. Okay no, no more panicking, he needs a plan. Obviously escaping out the window isn’t happening, and there’s someone awake running around, so Hugo has the idea that he had to be at least a little quiet about how he approaches this. He sneaks closer to the door, pressing an ear against the ornate, carved wood. He can’t hear anything from the other side, so with a cautious hand he twists the brass doorknob a half inch at a time.

The door opens soundlessly- Hugo peeks out into the abandoned hallway with a critical eye. He cracked the door a little more, moving out into the hall. It’s long, spanning what must be the length of the mansion, covered in old portraits that seem to stare into Hugo’s soul.

“Fucking… wonderful.” He mutters, moving towards where he knows the front of the house is. If the windows are warded, there’s a chance the door may not be; the people living here have got to have a way in and out, right? There’s someone still in here, so the house can’t be under total lockdown… right?

The hallway lets out into a large entrance hall, a three-story tall grand room of solid oak pillars and marble floors. The walls here are covered in banners and torches, dimly lit in the late evening but bright enough that Hugo can see a large crest set into the floor. He knows it’s the crest of the weird magic folk he’s out to rob- the ones who currently had locked him in their house of horrors. He can’t really describe it, it’s a strange, rounded shape that, if anything, Hugo would say looks like a pissed off jellyfish.

He makes his way across the floor, sticking close to the edge of the room. Hugo winces when his boots make the tiniest footsteps, a small padding noise that rings in his ears. When he makes it to the door, he tests the handle, tapping its curved brass surface.

Locked.

Of fucking course.

Hugo scoffs, backing away. Fucks sake, what’s he supposed to do now? Don’s going to murder him, if he doesn’t starve to death in this house of horrors first. Hugo spins on his heel, intending to go back to the original room, when, just out of the corner of his eye, he sees it.

A pair of blue eyes blink back at him from the shadows of the upper floor, peeking through the rungs of the bannister.

As soon as Hugo makes eye contact the person blinks and backs away, those sapphires disappearing into the shadows. Hugo hears frantic footsteps running along what must be more hardwood upstairs, clumsy and rushed as the person runs away.

“Hey!” Hugo barks, any sense of stealth long lost. He’s been caught- no more pussyfooting around. He bolts up the stairs to his left, taking them two at a time with ease. “HEY!”

The person doesn’t stop- Hugo catches sight of pale skin and black hair before they round a corner. If Hugo’s right, it should be a dead end at the end of that hallway. He takes the turn fast, slipping on the maroon carpet runner and nearly eating shit but just managing to get his feet under him. Hugo looks up with a scowl, intent on catching the fucker and demanding to be let out-

And comes face to face with a wall.

Shocked, he looks around. All there is a long hallway and a set of windows, no doors, no exits- and yet the person is just gone, vanished into thin air like a ghost. A chill runs up Hugo’s spine at that, the blond clenching his hands. People, in his experience, don’t just disappear.

“What the fuck?” He mutters to himself, looking quizzically at the taxidermized heads and paintings hanging on the walls. They stare right back at him as he huffs for breath. “What the actual fuck, I’m losing my marbles!”

He’d seen someone, Hugo’s sure of it. Blue eyes, black hair- they’d been here. But now they weren’t. Hugo scowls, kicking at a decorative stand with a grunt. The vase on top of it rattles ominously, but stays upright. The blond shakes his head, moving back into the mansion. There has to be a way out of this shitty house, and he’s going to find it if it kills him.

He doesn’t find it.

Hugo spends the rest of the night searching the house. Every window, every door, every crack in the bloody wall- and all of it turns up null for an escape route. The house is sealed tighter than a chestnut, and Hugo’s ready to tear his hair out. Eventually he drags himself back to the room he’d entered the house though, the window still wide open as an extra kick to the balls-

Hugo sighs.

He sinks down onto one of the couches, the exhaustion of an all-night panic attack settling deep into his bones. He’d torn through the mansion like a bat out of hell for so long, his body was demanding rest. The blond had retreated back to the main room in defeat, scooping up a fire poker as an impromptu weapon as his alchemy supplies was in his bag, outside. Hugo pushes his glasses up to the top of his head with a sigh, rubbing at burning eyes with a rough touch.

“Shit.” He whispers into the quiet of the room. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The house doesn’t answer. After the chase, Hugo had yet to see another living thing in the house, not even an insect. The person from before had vanished without a trace, but Hugo couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck. When he turned, glaring into the dark corners of whatever room he was in at the time, there was never anyone there. It gives him the creeps; the longer he stays in the house, the shorter his patience becomes.

He lies down on the couch, allowing himself to sink into the plush cushions with a sigh. His fire poker sinks a little in his grip, the tip tapping the floorboards as Hugo slouches lower and lower. The claws of sleep sink deep into him, tugging him down into his dreams before he can stop it.

As the sun crests over the horizon, Hugo nods off into a restless sleep.

>>><<<

When he wakes up, it’s to the smell of something cooked.

Hugo cracks a groggy eye open, scanning the room around him. It’s still empty of people, left exactly the way it was when he went to sleep- not a mote of dust out of place save for one thing. When Hugo looks directly in front of him, to a small, wooden coffee table at current face height, he can see a small plate, filled with a few sunny-side-up eggs and two slices of toast with jam. It smells delicious- Hugo’s used to road rations and tough grit from his time with Donella, it’s unusual for him to get to eat actual food- and from the waft of steam coming from the eggs, they’re fresh.

Hugo doesn’t trust it for a second.

The sun’s high in the sky; it must be sometime around noon, from the looks of the light outside. He slept longer than he meant to, but seeing as he was stuck in this hell house either way, a little oversleeping wouldn’t kill him. The blond sits up, grabbing his glasses off a side table of carved mahogany. He stares down at the food with suspicion, eyes narrowed.

The eggs sit there, appetizing and warm. Hugo glares a little harder, scooping up a nearby fork that had been left as well and poking at them. The metal weighs heavy in his hand- real silver. Interesting. The eggs don’t reveal any untoward secrets- no poison or half crushed drugs from the looks of it, but Hugo knows better. Donella had taught him well, after all.

With a scowl he stands, leaving the room without touching the food.

The house is just as gloomy in the day as it is during the night. The arching ceilings hover above Hugo like guillotine’s blade, just waiting to fall. The building is a labyrinth of hallways and strange rooms, piled high with strange artifacts and shelves packed with books and other items, all polished to perfection. It’s something he’d noticed, last night, is that the whole house is spotless- and if anything, that makes it all the creepier. Not a speck of dust has time to settle on anything in the house; if Hugo had to guess it was the person from the night before that kept the mansion as impeccable as it was. There was no one else in the house to do the work, unless there was a different magic other than the bloody forcefield keeping Hugo in at play.

His fire poker is a solid weight in his hand, still the only viable weapon Hugo had found in this freaky house- anything else was either drenched in magic (not something Hugo wanted to toy with thank you) or not exactly useful.

He finds himself in the great hall again. The massive double doors stand proud as they had before, mocking him with how simple escape seemed to be. With a small glace up to the landing, this time devoid of Hugo’s little stalker, he continues on. If memory serves from his frantic search of the house, there was a main library just off the main hall, past a large door of wrought iron and mahogany.

Hugo shoves at the door; it opens on soundless hinges. The library beyond is nothing short of breathtaking, to be fair. Three stories tall, the massive room filled to the brim with shelves and couches, and books, so many books. Hugo is, at heart, still a man of science and knowledge; if he had the time, Hugo could spend years here.

But for now, he needs to look for a way to get out.

A knot forms in his stomach. It’s a hunger pang, he unfortunately knows from experience, but he’d rather pass out than eat something that was potentially drugged. Hugo scowls as he stalks deeper into the library, scanning the shelves. They don’t seem to be in any kind of order, or at least not one Hugo can figure out. The blond turns into an aisle, high shelves on either side to start randomly searching, but stops dead.

On the other side of the aisle, closest to the wall, stands a figure.

It’s the same person as last night, small and thin and short- almost a head shorter than Hugo, with a mop of long, dark hair with a bright streak of teal through it. The boy’s pale- he looks like he hasn’t stepped outside in years, and those blue eyes Hugo remembers so vividly are framed by dark bruises. The boy wears a simple blue vest and white shirt, with moderately tight navy pants, and, Hugo notices with a start, no shoes. There’s a thick pair of goggles perched on top of the boy’s head, made of leather and brass. He looks about the same age as Hugo, maybe a year younger at the maximum.

The boy bites at a plush lip as he scans the books on the far shelf, tapping a finger against his chin as he reads the titles. His head cocks to the side as he reads, completely unaware of Hugo’s presence.

Perfect.

Hugo is, at heart, a sneaky bastard. His footsteps are quiet as he draws closer to the boy, who remains unaware until the very last second. Just as Hugo lunges for him, the boy turns. The blond gets the image of blue eyes going wide with shock before the hand not holding the fire poker grabs onto the teenager’s arm with a firm grip. The black-haired teen stumbles for a second at the sudden grab, but then finally seems to register Hugo’s presence.

And then he starts to scream.

It’s high pitched, near wailing. Hugo can’t help but drop his grip, covering his ears to block it out, the cry rings in his head as it does the previously silent library. The boy takes the chance given to him, trying to push past and run for the exit- but Hugo’s faster. With a quick foot he trips the other teen, the boy landing hard on the floor. His scream cuts off as he hits the floorboards, nearly taking Hugo down with him, but the blond rights himself and manages to get a hold of the boy’s arm again and haul him to his feet.

“You and I,” Hugo grunts as he drags the struggling teen from the shelves, “Are going to have a little chat.”

“Let go!” The teen shouts, furious. He yanks at Hugo’s grip on his arm, digging his heels into the wooden floors. “Let go, let go, let GO!”

Hugo grits his teeth, pulling harder and eventually shoving the teen onto one of the ornate, maroon couches. The boy lands with a thump, flailing a bit on the cushions.

“We’ll start simple.” Hugo’s teeth grit as the boy kicks at his legs. “Name.”

“What?” The kid asks, thrown off.

“Name.” Hugo repeats, shoving the fire poker in the kid’s face. Pale skin gets even paler at the sight of the impromptu weapon, the boy cringing back into the pillows of the couch.

“V-Varian!” He stammers, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Hugo.” The blond grunts back, “Now, Varian. You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on with this house.”

“I don’t answer to you!” Varian spits, face twisting into a snarl that quickly drops when Hugo brandishes the poker again. “It’s a ward.”

“A ward?” Hugo asks, “Explain.”

“Fuck you-” Another swing of iron. “It’s magic, my master activates it when he leaves for a long time, it’s for protection.”

“Your master?” Gods what kind of weird shit- “Elaborate.”

“It’s his house.” Varian spits, shoving at the fire poker. “Get that out of my face- this all belongs to him.”

“And you?”

“I… work for him.”

Hugo tilts his head, gesturing for Varian to continue. The boy scowls again, but does so.

“He gives me room and board.”

“And that’s it?” Hugo’s heard of weirder, but it’s still strange. Varian nods, picking at the gloves on his hands.

“He takes care of me, and in return-”

“And in return you keep his house.” Hugo nods, understanding. “Alright, so you must know how to let me out, right?”

Varian shrugs, biting his lip. Now that Hugo’s stopped with the outward threats, he straightens a little on the couch. “I don’t know.” He says, and Hugo scowls. “I don’t.”

“And what happens when you want to go outside?” Hugo grunts, putting his free hand on his hip. This whole thing is sketch- something’s still weird here, especially in the way Varian shifts at the question.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He mumbles. The teen’s picking at his gloves again; Hugo’s now ninety nine percent sure that’s a nervous habit, but Varian doesn’t seem to be able to stop. “It’s not safe out there, not for me.”

That’s… suspicious. And strange. But also, untimely, not Hugo’s problem.

“So no one can get out?” He finally asks, and Varian shakes his head.

“Not until my master comes back- which should be in about three days.” He says, and Hugo can’t help but groan.

“Fucking perfect.” He hisses. Varian flinches at the anger, but Hugo can’t find it within himself to care because- “If your master finds me here, won’t he be upset with you?”

Varian bites at his lip again, but stays firm. “He’ll decide what to do when he gets back. I trust him.” The boy says, pushing up off the couch. Hugo lets him, mind reeling. He’s stuck here with this little whelp, a sitting duck while they wait for the guy Hugo is currently trying to rob to get home. He groans, shoving his glasses up onto his head and rubbing at his closed eyes with a frustrated noise.

When he opens his eyes again, Varian has disappeared.

>>><<<

Another day goes by before Hugo sees Varian again.

This time it’s in one of the hallways, the shorter teen balanced precariously on a tall ladder, carefully polishing at the golden frame of one of the paintings. The blond still hasn’t found a way out, he’s starting to dread the idea that there might not be a way out- but then he finds Varian, and at least that comes with the promise of human contact.

“You know,” He says quietly, letting the younger boy hear him without startling him, “If you used vinegar, it would work better.”

“Because of its acidic properties.” Varian says, “Specifically white, distilled vinegar because of its pH level of around 2.5.” A pause. “How do I know that?”

“What?” Hugo stutters- that’s not a common kind of thing that people just know-

“What?” Varian asks, looking down from the ladder. “Oh. You.” He grumbles. “Come to drag me around again?”

“No- I… okay whatever.” Hugo mutters, “Fuck me for trying to help, I guess.”

Varian laughs. It’s a short burst of a giggle, but it’s… fuck it’s cute. Hugo coughs roughly to keep from being suspicious, refusing to look as Varian slides down the ladder. The shorter boy lands with a thump, his bare feet barely making a sound on the hardwood.

“Thank you for the advice.” He says, cocking a hip. Hugo sticks his tongue out, crossing his arms.

“Whatever, goggles.” He mutters, “Work harder, not smarter if that’s your deal.”

Varian looks away again, shrugging. “I have nothing better to do all day.” He says, “And vinegar will eat at the gold finish over time.”

“Oh.” Hugo says, “Fair, gold’s-”

“Soft.” Varian finishes the sentence for him. “And the master likes it kept in perfect condition.”

Ah.

“Right.” Hugo says, “The master who doesn’t let you go outside, and curses his own house.”

“It’s for my own good.” Varian replies, and the way he says it sounds like it’s something that’s been beaten into him over time. Hugo arches a brow, but pauses when Varian turns to walk down the hall with a gesture of his chin.

“You haven’t been eating.” The boy says. “It’s lunch.”

“For all I know you’re out to poison me.” Hugo grunts. Varian backs off a little, shrinking into himself. Hugo can’t help but feel a pulse of guilt- he’s an interpersonal guy, he knows when to tone down the anger.

In theory.

“I’m waiting for the master to come home before doing anything.” Varian says, “He can’t decide if you’re dead before he gets here.”

That’s… a fair point.

“Fine.” Hugo finally says, subdued for now. “Lead the way, goggles.”

Varian does, the two of them walking through the halls in relative silence. Varian’s jumpy, Hugo can see it in the way his whole body shrinks into itself, the slouch of his spine, the way his arms fold in- he’s seen if before, in people who knew better than to try and fight back.

It doesn’t sit right.

Varian leads him down a series of hallways, turning every direction under the sun. He has the layout of the mansion down, it seems, as even when Hugo’s about as turned around as he can get, Varian never breaks stride. The wooden panels and thick joists eventually turn to stone walls and floors, Hugo noting as the temperature drops by about ten degrees.

Varian eventually ducks into a room behind a thin, wooden door. It lacks the usual decoration of the upstairs of the house, but as Hugo enters, he sees a large, stocked kitchen. Varian gestures for the blond to sit; he does, plopping onto a stool. There’s a large island in the very center of the room, where Hugo now sits, the walls all taken up by either large fireplaces or cupboards. Varian putters around like he knows the kitchen like the back of his hand- which, to be honest, he probably does.

Hugo sinks into his chair as Varian wanders over to a nearby fireplace, one of six, and the only one lit, and inspects the cooking pot overtop it. Hugo watches as he takes the lid off, thinking to himself as a waft of steam flies up into the air. Hugo’s struck by the smell- it smells delicious, like onions and potatoes and something a little more savory. Varian tuts to himself, grabbing a small bag and taking a pinch of salt from it. He measures it for another second before tossing it in. He stirs the soup, for what else could it be, a few more times before replacing the lid.

“Should be ready soon.” He murmurs to himself, “Not quite yet.”

Oh, goodie, he talks to himself.

Hugo slouches, putting his elbows on the wooden, butcher block surface of the island. “So.” He says into the silence of the kitchen. Varian’s spine tenses just a little, but he shifts enough that Hugo feels okay to proceed. “What the fuck.”

Varian snorts at the bluntness. Hugo smiles a little, he can’t help it. Varian plucks a loaf of bread from one of the boxes, along with a knife, and sets away to quietly slicing the bread in thick chunks.

“What are we what-the-fucking?” He asks. “Because no, I can’t let you out of here.”

“How about the house, then.” Hugo tries. Even if he can’t get out, it would be good to know as much as he can. Varian purses his lips, but nods.

“It’s my master’s.” He reiterates. “His family has had it for generations. The wards only respond to him- unless it’s broken.”

“So you can break them?”

“I never said that. He’d know if you did.”

“That’s useless to me.”

“I know, that’s what makes it hilarious.”

Hugo groans, propping his chin on a hand Varian snickers to himself, finishing cutting the bread.

“What about you, then?” Hugo asks. Not that he cares of course, but Varian is… well he’s cute. And smart, if not a little batshit bonkers. “What’s the deal?”

Varian goes a little pale. Suspicious, Hugo’s mind screams, suspicious as hell-

“I. Okay.” Varian sighs. He turns to the pot again, removing the lid and stirring it. That smell wafts through the air again. Varian snags two bowls, deftly scooping the soup into two heaping portions. He turns back, placing the soup in front of Hugo before sitting across from him. “I’ll tell you,” Varian says, “But you have to promise to listen to me all the way through.”

“Deal.” Hugo shrugs, even as the curiosity eats at him. There’s a story here, it seems. Hugo stirs his food idly, taking a bite. Oh, by the Maker, that’s good stuff right there.

“I don’t have any memories.” Varian states blankly, and Hugo chokes on his food. He coughs roughly, hacking into the table as Varian chokes on a laugh. “Are you okay?!” He giggles, pushing a glass of water towards the blond. Hugo, for all he can, keeps coughing into his fist, offering a thumbs up.

“That’s just not what I was-” A pause, to choke on air again, “Not what I was expecting.” He snatches the water and downs it, finally getting himself under control. “Please continue.”

Varian bites his lip to keep from laughing, but nods. “So. No memories.” He says. “About three months ago, the master found me, half dead, out in a winter storm.”

Hugo nods, it’s easy enough to know that something as life threatening as freezing to death can cause amnesia. But then-

“Why are you still here?” He asks, thinking. “Don’t you have family looking for you? Friends?” Varian’s cute, he might even have a lover- even if that would low-key break Hugo’s heart to see such an adorable face off the market. Varian shakes his head, sadly stirring his own lunch.

“Nothing.” He says, “Either there’s no one out there, or they’re not looking. That’s where the master went, to go talk to some of his contemporaries in other kingdoms. He’s looking for something to help me get my memories back.”

“Can he do that?” Hugo asks, mostly to himself. Varian only shrugs.

“Maybe? Magic is a pretty varied subject, or so my master says.” He says, finally taking a bite. Hugo tries to be casual about it, but he’s shoveling the food into his mouth- he’s hungry, hungrier than he thought he was, as if once he got a tiny bite into his stomach a feral thing had woken up and demanded more. He pauses for breath after a good half minute, and keeps questioning; if Varian’s in a talkative mood, Hugo’s going to ask away.

“So you just stay here?”

Varian nods with a smile. “My master takes care of me.” He says, “Memory issues caused by trauma can also cause other problems of the mind. If I wander too far, I could end up lost again.”

“And that’s why the wards keep you inside?”

Varian shrugs. “The master knows what’s best for me.” He says, almost like a mantra. “He gives me room and board, and in return I take care of the house.”

“Seems like an okay trade.” Hugo muses. “Can’t go too wrong with that.”

Varian nods, eating another spoonful of his meal. “He’s trying to fix me. I can’t ever repay him for that, and everything else he’s done to help me.” The younger teen looks a mile away, lost in thought. “I owe him a great debt.”

Hugo thinks of Donella. Grits his teeth.

“You don’t remember anything?” He asks, burying the topic deep. Varian shakes his head sadly, picking at a piece of bread.

“Not a thing.” He murmurs. “I do get… dreams. Flashes. But they’re never anything useful, and the master says they’re not real.”

“How would he know?” Hugo grumbles. Varian pauses, looking nervous. Something tells Hugo he’s had that exact thought in his head before.

“It’s small things.” Varian says. “The smell of apples, a city made of white marble. Sometimes, I see a girl, with long, blond hair. She calls me her brother. The master says it’s just my mind trying to fill in the blanks with lies.”

“And you think that’s right?”

“I think my master wouldn’t lie to me.” Varian grunts. Hugo tenses, setting his spoon down onto the counter. The chill in the air turns frigid. “I think he’s taken care of me, and I trust him- more than I trust you.”

Varian pushes himself back from the island, standing quickly. Hugo doesn’t try to stop him as he leaves the kitchen in a huff, leaving Hugo behind. The blond sighs, picking up his spoon again. He fucked that one up, it seems, but at least he had a little bit more knowledge as to what the hell was going on in this house of horrors.

With a grunt, he shoves another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

It’s infuriatingly good.

>>><<<

The next day is quiet.

If Varian’s to be believed, then his master is due back at the mansion tomorrow. Hugo has a limited amount of time before he’s fucked like a ten-dollar whore, and his corpse is due to be buried in the gardens surrounding the house. Hugo grits his teeth, pissed all to hell, because there’s just one problem.

He can’t get Varian’s hurt face out of his head.

Hugo had fucked up that conversation, that much was obvious, but… well, maybe he felt a bit guilty. Varian was obviously ill, at the very least. There was no reason for the other teen to lie, after all, and Hugo had thrown the truth back in his face. Varian had cooked for him, had tried to assure Hugo that his master was a nice person- and Hugo had been a right dick.

Classic.

The blond grumbles as he fumbles around the kitchen, the same one Varian had abandoned him in before. It had been a challenge to find his way back, but he’d done it- and now, despite wanting to claw his own eyes out, he wanted to try and do something nice. The word makes his skin crawl, but to be fair, Hugo was the one who fucked up.

And, if Varian’s master’s a dick, maybe Varian would stick up for Hugo if they were on better terms again.

The kitchen smells like fire, and something like dead fish. Hugo scowls at the cookbook he’d found on a shelf, one more mistake away from tearing the recipe to shreds and burning the book for good measure. He was just trying to make pasta of all things- he’d picked it because it was supposed to be easy; but in the hour since he’d started, he’d overcooked the pasta, added too much salt to the sauce when the lid of the salt shaker had popped off and dumped the whole thing in, hell, he’d even managed to fuck up the sauce again when cooking it in too small a pot, causing it to overboil and slop down the side.

So the dinner prep was going great, thank you for asking.

Hugo steps on a small fire that had started near one of the hearths, stomping on it with no small amount of concern. It putters out, but leaves a gross little smudge on the tiles. Great.

“Fucking hell,” He mutters to himself, “Light the whole bloody mansion on fire, why don’t I? It’ll go great.”

“I’d ask what you’re doing, but it looks like even you don’t know.”

Ah, fuck. The man of the hour.

“Varian!” Hugo crows, holding his arms out as if displaying the disaster of a kitchen. “So nice of you to drop by!”

Varian inches into the kitchen with an arched brow, looking at the chaos. “I thought I smelled smoke.” He murmurs, “And it seems I was right. What are you doing?”

“What I am doing,” Hugo grumbles, “Is trying to be nice, goggles. Maybe some appreciation would be swell.”

The pot behind him bursts into flames.

Varian shouts in shock, running to the flames with a frantic expression. Hugo whirls around with scared squeal, backing away and tripping over his own feet as Varian snags a dishtowel and grabs at the pot, taking it off the fire with precise movements. The shorter boy carries the fire over to a metal sink, dropping it in and snagging a nearby bucket of water, tossing the liquid in and dousing the flames. The pot sputters, spitting its last as the flames drown out. Smoke rises from the sink, putrid with the stink of burnt tomato paste and onions- near black as it fills the kitchen.

There’s silence as they stare at the sink together. Hugo cringes at the smell, sinking into himself a bit. Varian backs away from the smouldering ruins of the pot, expression unreadable. Hugo’s brain stutters, fuck, way to go, jackass, make things worse, this is what you get for trying to be nice-

Varian bursts out laughing.

“What the hell?!” He gasps out, “It’s… was it supposed to be stew?”

“Pasta.” Hugo sighs, looking to the floor. Varian laughs even harder, bent double so that his head is nearly at his knees.

“Sun above,” He gasps, wiping away tears, “How did you- that badly.”

Hugo shrugs, joining in on the giggles before he can help himself. “What can I say, I’m a man of many talents- just not cooking, it seems.”

Varian laughs harder.

Hugo joins him.

Eventually they end up in the library again, eating simple ham sandwiches together on one of the couches. Varian’s easy to talk to, if Hugo’s real with himself, they share a humour and a passion in the sciences. Varian snorts when he laughs- it makes Hugo’s heart flutter. The library’s warm, despite it being close to midnight by the time they’re done. Varian had shown Hugo something he was calling a phonograph, a small machine that played music after being wound tight. Hugo found it fascinating, the way the soft music fills the room.

“Don’t you ever think of leaving?” Hugo asks at one point, food long done and the drowsiness of the past-midnight hours setting in. The two of them lay on the carpeted floor so that their heads are side by side, only a scant foot between their faces, with their feet going in opposite directions. Varian sighs, staring long and hard at the ceiling.

“Of course I have.” He says, picking at his gloves. “I always have. But it’s dangerous out there, if I were by myself, I’d be dead before the week was up.”

“But… what if you weren’t alone?”

This is a bad idea, a bad, bad idea- but Hugo can’t help it. Hugo’s leaving the mansion one way or the other once Varian’s master returns, be it walking away or in a body bag. But after spending more and more time together, he doesn’t want to let Varian go. Doesn’t want to leave him behind.

Varian bites at his lip, thinking.

“The master would never allow it.” He says, sad, melancholy.

“Not with him, then.” Fuck, Hugo just keeps pushing. Varian turns to him then, looking Hugo in the eye.

“Maybe someday.” He says. “When I’m fixed.”

“But what if you’re not broken?”

The words are out before Hugo can stop them. They ring in the silence they leave behind, the only noise is the soft music from the phonograph. Varian sits up, looking down at Hugo with curious eyes.

“But my memories…” He trails off, thinking.

“Make new ones.” Hugo shrugs like it’s nothing. Varian’s eyes go a little wider, thinking hard, but he still shakes his head.

“I need to stay.” He says, “There’s too many questions.”

It’s disappointing, but Hugo plays it off. “Suit yourself,” He says, and lets the conversation drift again.

They sit like that for hours, into the early morning. Neither of them notice the late (and then early) hour until the sun starts to peek through the curtains of the library windows- Varian looks to them with a shocked expression, blinking.

“Oh.” He gasps, “Morning already?”

It’s day three.

Oh.

“The master will be back soon.” Varian murmurs, biting his lip. Hugo shrugs, trying for nonchalant. Varian tenses for another second, before bolting to his feet. “C’mon.”

Hugo rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself off the carpet, stumbling to his feet after hours of not moving. “Where are we going?”

“You’re getting out.” Varian says, looking over his shoulder for a second before leaving the room. Hugo jogs after him, shocked.

“Wait, I- goggles, wait-”

Varian doesn’t stop, walking to the center of the entrance hall. The symbol embedded in the floor is still there, large and imposing in a dark maroon against the white tiles. Hugo looks at it- still no fucking idea what it’s supposed to be, but Varian kneels at the edge of it with a sort of complicated expression. It’s not fear, not quite, but it’s close.

“What’s happening- hey?” Hugo says, kneeling down next to Varian and taking his shaking hands. Varian looks scared, near frantic; it doesn’t sit well with Hugo at all. “Hey,” Hugo tries again. He does his best not to flinch when Varian’s haunted gaze meets his own. “Deep breath, what are you doing?”

“I-” Varian chokes on the words, but shakes himself. “The master will kill you, he doesn’t take well to trespassers.”

Hugo’s heart sinks at that, but he keeps pressing. “No, hey, I can get past him, it’s okay.”

“No.” Varian says, “You won’t. He’s killed people before- no he hasn’t… maybe he has? But why do I remember it… it was half a year ago” Varian trails off, looking more and more haunted as the seconds tick by.

“For breaking in?” Damn, the guy sounds more intense that Hugo had anticipated. Varian shudders, a full body thing that has Hugo gently touching his elbow. The floor under Hugo’s knees is freezing, colder than it really should be indoors.

“He’s murdered over less.” Varian whispers. He leans down to the sigil in the marble, pressing his palms down onto it. The outline of the shape starts to glow a bright red, overtaking the glow of the torches and the weak sunlight streaming in. Hugo tilts his head, watching with fascination as the crest shines brighter and brighter before, with a great crack that sounds like thunder, the floor splits down the middle. The light dims, fading entirely. All that’s left behind is a large split down the middle of the design, torn open like a great, bloody wound.

The house shudders, as if rumbled down to the very bones. Items rattle on their shelves, paintings drop from the walls. The wood and stone groan in pain as the house wails its agony to the sky. Something in the air, that sense of electricity that had haunted Hugo since the moment he arrived, dies out, leaving an empty shell of a building behind. Things settle quickly after that, the building sinking back to its roots and falling dormant once more.

The two humans stay quiet from their place on the floor, Hugo gaping at the massive, foot wide crack in the marble. Varian shudders again, his hands clenched in pain as he nearly bends double over the stone. That’s enough to draw Hugo from his staring, the blond putting a hesitant hand on the smaller teen’s back. The boy shakes himself, trying to sit straight again with a grimace.

“Okay.” Varian mutters, his voice strained and near breaking. “It’s done.”

“Just like that?” Hugo asks, mind whirling. It was so easy-

“Just like that.” Varian slouches a little more, looking like he’s just signed his own death warrant. There’s a second of silence, before the smaller boy looks up with a grim determination. “You need to go.” He says. Varian pushes himself up with shaking arms, but Hugo meets him halfway, and pulls him up until they’re both standing.

“I- won’t he be mad?” Hugo stutters, caught looking between Varian and the door. Varian grimaces, but shakes his head.

“He won’t kill me.” That’s not great reassurance, “You need to go.”

Hugo’s hands go to Varian’s upper arms, staring deeply into those baby blue eyes. Varian looks scared, near terrified- it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair-

“Come with me.” Hugo says again, “I know you want your memories back, but we can find our own way- make new memories. You deserve better.”

“I can’t-”

“But you should. What’s left for you, living alone in this dusty old house?”

Varian’s eyes are watery, near tears. “I… okay.” He finally sighs. His head falls forwards, resting on Hugo’s chest. It’s a soft touch, the butterflies in Hugo’s stomach flutter.

“Yeah?” He asks, as if he can’t believe it. Varian looks up to meet his eye, smiling through watery eyes.

“Yeah.” He says, “Let’s go.”

“Leaving so soon, Varian?” Comes a third, male voice. The two teenagers whip around to face the double doors, tensing at the sight of a tall, muscular figure. The man walks into the house with a confident stride, followed by a small group of people. There’s a large man, a woman with a frankly massive amount of hair, and a small, portly, elderly woman. Hugo knows these people- and knows the man in front of him is the owner of the house. Donella had told him all about him, of course she had, she wasn’t stupid enough to send Hugo in unaware as to who he was messing with, but to see the man in front of him was a vastly different feeling. And Varian’s hands, shaking and gripping tight in pure fear, are enough to set Hugo on edge as the man draws closer.

Andrew of Saporia stalks into his destroyed main hall with a sense of confidence Hugo would kill to have. The blond’s always been a fake it till you make it kind of person; he keeps his back ramrod straight even as Varian’s hands grip tight enough to cut off circulation in his arms. Andrew looks to Hugo, but once his eyes flick to the floor before settling on Varian, he smiles.

“Come here, kid.” He says, holding a hand out, palm up. Varian tenses from behind Hugo, but still moves out from behind the blond. When he passes, blue eyes meet green, near tears.

“Sorry.” He whispers, walking to stand in front of Andrew. The man’s smile turns smug as the boy draws close, even as Varian shudders in fear. He takes Varian’s chin in a gentle grip, tilting it this way and that in a calculating manner. Varian goes with the motions, submissive; it makes Hugo’s blood boil.

“What happened?” It’s a flat question, but loaded. Varian bites at his lip, even as Andrew drops his chin and looks at him expectantly. The boy goes to answer, but Hugo’s faster.

“I found your freaky fucking house, is what happened!” He spits, moving forwards. Varian goes pale, wide eyes flicking between Andrew and Hugo with a sense of horror. Hugo draws up, nearly half a head shorter than Andrew but still trying to size him up. The blond shoves Varian behind him, putting himself between the two.

Andrew laughs, a bitter, angry thing as he looks between Varian and Hugo. “So this is what you’ve been up to while I was away?” He asks, as if Hugo’s not even here. The blond bristles, meeting Andrew’s eye.

“Your shitty spell locked me in here.” He spits, “Just like you did to Varian.”

Andrew shrugs, arching a brow. “It’s for his own good, poor little fool’s a blank slate.”

Varian shakes again, pressing tight to Hugo’s back- but the blond instead moves even closer to Andrew, scowling.

“It’s still fucked up, you son of a bitch-”

He’s cut off when he feels a large set of hands grab him by the shoulders, dragging him back and away from Andrew with a rough tug. Varian cries his name, but Hugo’s forced back and away by the large man- Kai, if Hugo’s information is correct- and held in place. Andrew smiles at that, looping an arm around Varian’s shoulders and pulling him into an awkward, one armed hug.

“Your boyfriend’s a little pissy.” He says to the smaller boy, looking at Hugo with a smug face. Varian looks downright miserable, refusing to look anywhere but the floor. Hugo’s blood boils at the flippant way Andrew’s treating Varian, like an object, a toy-

“Boss.” One of the women, the younger one, says, entering the room from outside. She carries a helmet, one of golden metal and carved into an intricate design. The woman tosses it to the ground at their feet, scowling. “It’s just guard uniforms- we can’t use this for shit, Andrew.”

“Could you put a pin in that, please, we’re in the middle of something,” Andrew sighs. The man pauses, however, when Varian twitches. Hugo watches with abject horror as Varian stares at the helmet, his eyes suddenly glowing a horrifying white, taking over the entire shape of Varian’s eyes, eating away until there’s no blue to be seen. The Coronian emblem carved into the helmet stares back up at him.

“Aw fuck,” Andrew spits, moving so that he holds Varian by the shoulders. The boy’s nearly limp, twitching as if in seizure; his lips move like he’s talking, though Varian makes no noise. Hugo watches with terror as Varian violently seizes in Andrew’s grip. The man scowls, shaking the boy lightly.

“Fuck, Juniper.” Andrew sounds furious, looking to the woman. “You set him off again- son of a bitch, we just wiped him, now we’re going to have to do it again.”

Hugo struggles again as Varian’s eyes blink once, twice, a third time; the next time they open they’re back to their normal blue, but terrified.

“Rapunzel!” He screams, falling to the floor. Andrew lets him drop, glaring at Juniper. Varian covers his mouth in pure terror, tears welling up in his eyes. There’s something new in them, Hugo realizes with a start. Before, there had always been a layer of confusion and cloudiness in Varian’s eyes, like he was never really fully aware of what was happening. Now?

Now Varian is very awake.

“Welcome back, buddy,” Andrew sneers, looming over the boy on the floor. Varian glares up at him with a look of such malice- Hugo didn’t even know he could make that kind of face at all, to be honest, but Varian pulls it off rather well.

“Andrew!” He spits, pushing himself off the floor, “You fucker-”

“Oh, every time we do this, you’re always so upset.” Andrew tuts. Varian tries to swing a punch at the taller man, but the brunet catches him by the wrist, tugging Varian close. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Fuck you!” Varian shouts. It echoes around the hallway like the ringing of a funeral bell. “You kidnapped me you sick son of a bitch!”

Oh. Oh shit a lot of things suddenly click in Hugo’s mind. A dawning sense of horror floods his veins at the realization of just what’s been going on hits him like a train. He’d feared Varian was just some poor schmuck who’d been tricked into partial slavery by this asshole but-

“Yeah.” Andrew snickers, “And your precious big sister’s been nice and compliant while you’ve been staying here.”

Fuck.

The tears in Varian’s eyes threaten to spill over, the rage on his face something beautiful. He roughly fights Andrew’s grip on him, but can’t hope to break the man’s hold.

“It’s been a good year.” Andrew’s grin gets sharper, flashing in the weak sunlight. “This is what, round four or five? Every time I think we’re in the clear you just have to start remembering, kid; it’s a pain in my ass.”

“Good!” Varian hisses, and Hugo can see a sudden tenseness in his spine.

Things happen very quickly after that.

Varian draws a foot back and slams his heel into Andrew’s knee with a sharp movement. The crack of bone is loud in the echoing hall, but Andrew’s scream of pain quickly overtakes it. Varian pulls himself from the man’s laxing grip, using his few seconds of shock well. Kai’s hands drop from Hugo’s shoulders, the larger man moving to help his leader. Hugo sprints for Varian before he can figure out anything else, the two of them making a break down the hall opposite from the library.

Andrew’s angry shouting trails after them as they run, the sound of footsteps dogging their heels. Hugo ends up tugging Varian into the room he’d snuck into the mansion from. Together they grab one of the couches, dragging it across the floorboards and shoving it against the wooden door. The door rattles on its hinges as the Saporians yell for them to open it, the banging quickly turning aggressive.

“Time to go,” Hugo says with a small bow, gesturing towards the open window. Varian nods, taking the que and hopping out in a smooth motion. The blond follows, taking a second to scoop up his bag at long last as he does so. Something in him feels a little better at having his supplies with him, though he takes the time to part out a few bombs and pass them to Varian before they move on.

“Here.” He says, shoving them into Varian’s hands. “Just in case.”

Varian’s face is grim, but determined. They sprint around to the front of the house, stopping around the corner and peeking around the siding to see the Saporians out front. The dead grass under their feet crunches, the lawn dying quickly with the ward destroyed. With the ward destroyed, the house is nothing more than a corpse.

“Find that little shit!” Andrew barks, limping. “We need him, if he escapes, and gets back home, we’re fucked-”

“What a morning.” Hugo grumbles. Varian snorts, backing off.

“You’re telling me.” He mutters. “You can’t imagine the headache I have.”

“But you remember?” It’s pretty obvious he does, but Hugo has to make sure. Varian nods, looking a mile away. The smile that creeps across his face is something sad, soft.

“I’m from Corona,” And oh, doesn’t he sound so happy to know that. “I have a sister- and a dad! We were fighting the Saporians… and they took me, to keep her from attacking them.”

“Shit, goggles.” Hugo mutters, “Can’t be fun.”

“They kept wiping my memories.” Varian looks haunted. “Over and over. I’d start to remember who I was, who my family is, and they’d just…” He holds up a hand to the side of his head and moves it away with a flutter of his fingers. “Gone. No more. Until I remembered again.”

“Fuck.” Hugo hisses. “Time to get out of dodge, get you away from them. Guess you don’t have a quick way out?”

“The Saporians use balloons.” Varian peeks back out past the corner. Andrew and his cronies have moved on in their search, leaving, lo and behold, a hot air balloon parked on the lawn. Hugo nods, already thinking.

“Think you can fly it?” He asks, and Varian scoffs.

“I built the thing.” He says, something like pride in his voice. “Fastest balloon in the seven kingdoms, right there. They stole it the night they… well the night I came to live here.”

He looks to Hugo then, the fear long gone. All that’s left there is fury, and a solidified decisiveness. It’s an incredibly attractive look on him; something in Hugo likes this newer, more grounded Varian. The way he walks, maybe, or the newfound confidence- either way, it’s a nice thing to see. If Hugo also casually keeps the reminder that Varian was indeed single in mind… well that’s only for him to know.

They make their way across the dead grass. It’s open space between the house and the balloon, a risky venture; they could be spotted easily without anything to hide behind, and so close to the house. They’d already lost track of the Saporians- and a missing enemy was a dangerous one. The balloon is a marvel of engineering, a perfect interlock of gears and alchemy that makes Hugo drool. Varian works the machine like it’s an old friend, quickly starting the fire.

“Just have to wait for it to heat up.” He says to Hugo, who nods. “Shouldn’t be more than a minute- shit, Hugo look out!”

The blond barely has time to think before something solid collides with his head. A flash of fiery pain bursts from the place he’s hit, Hugo crumping to the floor of the wicker basket. His ears ring with a high-pitched toll, his vision swims-

But over all of it, he can hear Varian scream.

Hugo’s vision fuzzes in and out in a series of images in between each blink, the world flipping in and out in short, disjointed bursts.

The first, the blue sky. Fluffy, white clouds that gently float in the blue expanse. The very tops of trees around the edge. The feeling of being dragged, moved. The edge of the basket coming and going.

The second, laying on his side. Grass tickling his nose. His glasses askew. The sight of Varian being hoisted up and out of the balloon by Kai. The shorter boy snarls as the big lug manhandles him, kicking his legs furiously as his arms are pinned in what’s basically a bearhug.

The third, Andrew drawing closer to Varian with a look of pure malice. The younger teen squirming with rage as the man taunts him. Varian spitting in Andrew’s face. Getting slapped. Varian aiming another kick, getting smacked again.

The world finally stops spinning.

The ringing dies down, the noise of the world filtering back in piece by piece. Andrew’s holding something now, a dark… stick? No, fuck, that’s a wand. Probably the thing that they’ve used on Varian to wipe his memories, if the way those blue eyes widen in horror when Varian sees it is any indication.

“Get that away from me!” He yells, kicking harder. Andrew sneers, dodging a bare foot.

“Will you just knock it off!” Andrew snaps, raising a hand into the air to slap him again. Varian flinches back, tensing and waiting to be hit. The man smirks, dropping his hand and bringing the wand close to the boy’s face, as if mocking him.

Hugo’s up like a shot, ignoring a rush of vertigo, running for the three of them. None of the Saporians notice him, but the wand’s drawing close to Varian’s skin, only a hairsbreadth away-

The blond lets out a shout just as the wand makes contact.

Varian lets out a pained screech, his eyes glowing white just like they had before. Hugo keeps his inertia, using the speed to bodily tackle Andrew away from the smaller boy. He’s got a goo-bomb in his hand before he can think, bringing it down on Andrew and gluing the man to the dead grass. Andrew’s stunned by the sudden shift, but not for long. The man howls in rage as Hugo rolls off of him, out of range.

“You little shit!” He hollers, struggling against the goo keeping him pinned. The wand, snapped in half, lies next to him. Hugo only smiles, backing out of smacking range with a smug grin.

He whirls around, only just able to dodge a hollering Kai as the man runs forwards. With another well-timed bomb, Kai’s feet end up stuck as well, the man falling forwards with a thump. Andrew shouts again, a series of threats and half formed curses, but Hugo tunes him out, running for where Kai had seemingly dropped a limp Varian into the dirt.

He flips Varian onto his back, tapping lightly at freckled cheeks. “Oh, shit.” Hugo mutters, “Hairstripe? Hey, you in there? Want to maybe wake up?”

The boy groans, and it’s a great sound. Those blue eyes flutter open, fixing on Hugo with a curious expression.

“Who-?” Varian cuts himself off, looking around before settling back on Hugo. “Where… what’s happening?”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Varian?” Hugo asks, desperate, but already getting the sinking feeling in his gut. It only gets worse, a knot forming in Hugo’s throat when the name doesn’t spark any sort of recognition in Varian’s eyes.

“Who is that?”

Hugo’s heart breaks. He grits his teeth, leaning back. They have to move. They have to leave, but… Varian looks at him with such curiosity, not a bit of recognition, and it hurts.

“You are, Sweetcheeks.” Hugo murmurs, “Your name is Varian, you’re from a kingdom called Corona.”

It doesn’t seem to do anything for Varian to know that, but he still nods, sitting up. His eyes land on Andrew, brows scrunching in confusion.

“Who are they?” He asks, looking at the hollering men.

“They’re… bad people.” Hugo replies, “They tried to hurt you. It’s why you can’t remember anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. We should get away from them.” Thankfully, Varian goes willingly, taking Hugo’s offered hand and letting the blond pull him to his feet. He leads Varian away from the Saporians, towards the balloon. Varian looks at the mansion with curiosity, tilting his head as they step aboard the wicker basket.

“Something about this place seems familiar.” Varian mumbles. He turns to Hugo, wearing that same expression. “Same with you.”

“We’re friends.” Hugo says. It’s bitter on his tongue, but he says it anyways. “I’m going to take you home-”

Wait.

“Wait here!” Hugo suddenly shouts, jumping from the balloon. He doesn’t stop to check if Varian follows the direction, instead sprinting back into the house. It’s like entering a tomb, the dust finally beginning to settle. The house feels hollow, strange.

But the helmet is still there.

Hugo scoops it up with deft hands, spinning on his heel and running back to the balloon. Varian’s still there, looking towards the house with a confused expression.

“Here!” Hugo shoves the helmet at him, gasping for breath after running. “Look at this, what do you think?”

“It’s… nice?” Varian says, arching a brow. “Is it yours?”

“No, it…” Fuck, he’d hoped that would have worked. “I was hoping it would help. It did before.”

The twisting sorrow in Hugo’s gut settles into a tight knot. Varian- the Varian Hugo knows and lo… likes very much- is probably gone. Who knows if he’d ever get his memories back? Tears prick at Hugo’s eyes, burning and hot. He’s not going to cry, damn it, but he’s coming close.

“Hugo, c’mon.” Varian sighs, “I already told you I don’t remember anything.”

Wait.

“Say that again.” Hugo demands, grabbing Varian by the shoulders. The younger boy pouts, shoving at him, but complies.

“I said,” His face twists into a little frown, “I don’t remember anything.”

“No, I- I never told you my name.” And he hadn’t. Which meant…

“I. No, you didn’t.” Varian pauses, thinking hard. “But I know you from somewhere. You’re Hugo.”

The blond smiles, the tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re Varian.” He says, like a mantra.

“You… you burned the pasta.” Oh. Oh shit- “And we had sandwiches.”

“Yes!” Hugo crows, “Yes, exactly! Keep going, goggles!”

“And then we listened to music, and I broke Andrew’s seal because-” Varian pauses, looking up at Hugo and blushing. The blond stops smiling, furrowing his brow.

“Because why?” He asks, confused as Varian leans forwards.

“Because I really like you.” Varian says firmly, “As more than a friend.”

Hugo can barely compute that statement before Varian leans close and seals their lips together in a soft kiss. It’s like a smoldering fire, lax and lazy like they have all the time in the world. It’s good, a kiss that’s delicate and would be easy to pull away from.

Hugo doesn’t.

>>><<<

It takes them a few days to get to Corona.

The rest of Varian’s memories came back in small spurts, flashes here or there as the effects of gaining, losing, and regaining the memories slowly took their course. It’s easy, though, the two of them piloting the hot air balloon towards Varian’s home. Calm. Quiet. Simple. Varian hangs off of Hugo like a limpet a lot of the time, insisting that it’s that he doesn’t trust Hugo not to crash, though the blond would call bullshit- he’s a better pilot that Varian is, when you get down to it.

The city looms before them, glittering and bright. Varian maneuvers the balloon down to the courtyard of the castle, avoiding the towers with prescience movements. Hugo can’t help but feel a pinch of dread as he does so, clinging to the basket and looking down as a group of people stare up at them.

“Well, they’ll definitely know we’re here.” He mutters, sinking down into the basket with a grimace. Varian only laughs, setting them down properly onto the cobblestone of the courtyard and switching the balloon off.

“It’ll be okay.” He says, “Rapunzel’ll already be freaking out, I’m sure.”

Lo and behold, a blur of purple sprints from the castle not a minute later. “Varian!” The woman screams, bowling the boy over in a frantic hug. “Ohmigosh you came home! Where were you, we looked everywhere, Andrew-”

Varian opens his mouth, tries to speak. Sobs. Clings to his sister just as tightly as she hugs him. The tears run thick down both their cheeks, the two of them clinging tightly together, rocking back and forth as they cry. “It was Andrew,” Varian finally spits out between the tears. “He had me in a mansion on the border, an old outpost-”

“He’s dead when I find him.” Rapunzel hisses, “I hope he enjoys a face full of frying pan-”

Varian laughs wetly, finally stepping back from his sister. “Hugo saved me.” He says, gesturing to the blond, who waves awkwardly. Rapunzel doesn’t seem to care for semantics, letting go of Varian to draw Hugo into a hug of his own.

“Thank you!” She crows. Hugo can’t breathe. “Thank you, thank you! I owe you everything!”

When she backs off, Varian shoulders closer to Hugo with a grin. “I think she likes you.” He whispers, and Hugo can’t help but laugh.

“That’s just because you like me.” He says it with an easy grin, like he’s sure of it. Varian smiles back, leaning up for a small kiss. Hugo meets him halfway, the two of them reveling in each other’s presence.

“I guess I do.” Varian smiles, “If I can remember what your name is.”

“Hardy-har.” Hugo mutters, “I should have left you in that shitty house.”

“But you didn’t.” Varian leans up again, eyes pleading.

“No.” Hugo says, already leaning closer. “I don’t think I could leave you behind after this.” Their lips meet again, the world shrinking down to just the two of them in their own little bubble.

Varian’s smile, when they separate, shines brighter than gold.

#varigo #varian #tangled the series #tts #fic #IT'S A BIG BOY TODAY JESUS LORD

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aty-altiria · 4 years ago

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Very ‘Oops’

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Word count: 1440

Universe: Harry Potter, Twilight

Pairings: Fem!Harry/ Jasper Hale(Whitlock, Cullen...)

Themes: Mugging, character death (random background character) blood and gore and vampireness

Summary: It’s not the first time he’s snapped and fed on a human. But it is the first time he’s thanked for doing so. Jasper would suppose that was because he’d eaten a mugger and had been thanked before chowing down on the bloodied victim. But in his defense, Holly Potter is rather distracting.

@whumptober2020

Never written one of this in my LIFE, but that’s where I’m at currently.

----

Jasper didn't look at the girl; he tried not to think about her at all, in fact. Not with the lingering emotions from the man still burning at his veins, not with the taste of blood, finally on his lips, distracting him so firmly. Not as he sucked and sucked, as he drained every last drop from the human- gods, it was so good. He could drown in the taste, could abandon everything for a fix- he wanted- more- more- the lust of it-

The man, his greed, his disgusting desire, his lust it had been painfully mixed with the woman's exasperation? She'd been so frightened that Jasper had just acted. He'd just moved in response to her emotions. He'd ripped the man from her, likely caused a large chunk of her hair to pulled out from the force of it. Jasper's claws had dug into the man's body, had breached the skin causing blood to well up- and he'd been lost. Blood. Think, fresh, and so readily available. The years of resistance he'd put in had been destroyed in a split-second decision.

Jasper dropped the man drained over every last drop, and he passed a short thought for the fact that he'd have to dispose of the body before he let his head drop back. Guilt would come later. Horror at his actions would return. But that moment, for that one split second, he was so wonderfully sated. He was full for once in the last decade, and he'd saved a life- Jasper should be proud- and the last dregs of the man's emotions finally slipped away. The lust, the desire, the pleasure of a mugging and murder was wiped out, leaving only Jasper and her- what would she be feeling? Would the horror sink in now?

He turned, eyes glowing bloody orange as red mixed with yellow and finally looked at the woman.

Jasper memorized her appearance; he couldn't stop himself from doing it. His mind automatically took in the entire scene in high definition. The size of her pupils, the man's blood on her shoulder, the rip in her shirt, the hair pulled out. He memorized it all, even though he was sure he'd kill her now. That he eat and eat and eat- she'd be his second victim, her black mess of hair that was half frizz and half curls, her green eyes- so very human- her emotions- relieved and safe-

What?

Jasper tilted his head, too quickly to be human, and she didn't flinch at the motion. She was simply, passively, waiting for him to finish his meal. Her emotions calm, relieved, and a little bit awed- what?!

"Thank you," she bowed her body, kept eye-contact the entire time, and straightened. She spoke only when Jasper was finished when his attention had returned to her. "Thank you for saving me." Jasper blinked, a purposeful action to admit his confusion, but she seemed unaware of it. "I know you probably have someone to clean up, but I can banish the body if you'd like? To save time?"

The relief never fled her, though it did calm as she shot the body a disgusted look. But- it wasn't revulsion, she wasn't disgusted with him, she was only mildly bothered by the body itself as any human should be. But she wasn't nearly as concerned as Jasper was expecting, not nearly as horrified as any human would ought to be. Yes, she'd been dangerously close to being killed when he'd jumped in and- wait- hadn't her clothes been ripped? They weren't any longer; her dress had been since fixed to an oddly new degree. Actually, she was oddly pristine now, her hair impeccable, her clothes spotless, even the hair that had been yanked free had been fixed. How had she done that?? When had she done that?

"So?" she turned back to him, waiting for an answer.

"Go ahead, ma'am," he only said it out of curiosity even as a massive part of his mind was still cataloging her appearance. Then Jasper sucked in a sharp unneeded breath as she pulled out a stick and waved it at the man, who vanished from Jasper's very sight. Not only that, but any trace of blood was likewise scrubbed clean by a secondary flick. In an instant, it was like they'd never been there, and Jasper's mind clicked.

Witch.

Carlisle had mentioned them before, had lived in their communities in the past. Magical communities were one of the few places that vampires could walk freely in the sun without being instantly targeted, or well, they used to. Magical creatures were now being prosecuted quite heavily in most magical communities, and so vampires avoided their areas in reverse. Because in a battle between witch and vampire, Carlisle wasn't confident the vampire would win.

Still, what were the chances Jasper would meet a witch in Seattle? It was unlikely; there were no magical communities anywhere near the city. And to be frank, this was the first witch he'd ever met - though Carlisle did believe Alice used to be one before she'd been turned.

"So… err… thanks?" the woman repeated. Jasper nodded, still reeling and… not in the slightest bit hungry, he wasn't tempted by her beating heart at all- because she didn't-

"You have no heartbeat," he blurted out.

"Ah," she blushed a bit sheepish, "Yeah, I know. I'm sort of… undead, kinda?" she rubbed the back of her head, which was human, blinked and breathed like she was human. But the organ within her chest was utterly silent.

"' Kinda undead?'" Jasper asked, allowing himself to relax slightly. He'd killed someone- that guilt would come later- but- the man had deserved it, and he'd saved this woman with his action. That and… her emotions were positively intoxicating, she felt so strongly. She was so very relieved, so calm that Jasper couldn't help but follow suit.

"I might have found a set of items that made me the master of death, so, now I can't die." Her face pinched, and darker emotions rolled. Jasper didn't need to ask to follow her train of thought either. Sometimes there were things worse than death. "Anyway, yeah… immortal, so no heartbeat, which sort of really freaks out any potential boyfriends, that sucks…" She blushed deeper despite having no heartbeat, "can't believe I just said that, nope, I'm leaving. Thanks again- bye!"

Jasper watched her take a step, watched the wince slowly form on her face, and then he was in her space. He caught her arm with ease and tried not to watch the impossible blush race further up her cheeks. "Please, allow me to walk you home, ma'am,"

"I can just apparate…"

"Not sure what that is," he really didn't; magic was not something he'd looked deeply into…though perhaps he should have, "but allow me this kindness? I would like to see you home safe."

"It's a hotel," she muttered, the volume was well within his ability to hear it though, "but fine, I guess… but you may have to carry me."

"Now that isn't an imposition," and oddly, it truly wasn't. Despite her proximity, Jasper wasn't the slightest bit tempted to bite her, which was endlessly relieving. So with permission, Jasper scooped the woman off her feet and started off. "Which way?"

She pointed as Jasper set off at a relatively slow walk, considering how fast he could move. Funny that. He didn't want to let her go at all, didn't want to part too early from her. "I didn't catch your name."

"Holly,"

He felt himself smile, basked in her emotions, the attraction and joy she was giving off despite how disastrous her night might have ended. Drowning in her emotions, Jasper couldn't resist adding in a sultry tone: "Just going to point out, in my case, the lack of heartbeat is not a turn-off."

Embarrassment, attraction, and intrigue.

Jasper's smile widened.

"Trust me, Jazz, you want to be in Seattle tonight."

"Are you going to tell him he's going to meet his mate?"

"Not yet; he won't be as open-minded if I do. No, I'll wait until he gets back… oh, but Edward! You'll love her! She's going to be the best sister!"

#whumptober2020 #twilight fanfic #HP fanfic #Harry Potter #Jasper Hale #Jasper Whitlock #Mugging #blood and gore #vampires #hunting season #accidents

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akechicrimes · 5 years ago

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Prompt 15 for ShuAke, please? (Your other answers are really really good, by the way.)

(aaaa THANK YOU yes of course!! also jsksjksjksjksjsj THIS PROMPT……. THANK YOU FOR THIS it was SO fun)

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

akira has an adrenaline problem and is more reckless in sae’s casino that akechi expected. also akechi cares more about it than akechi expected.

***

The Thieves get overprotective of Joker in Sae’s casino, which is too bad, because it’s very big with many moving parts and it’s best for them to divide and conquer the place, which is how he explains it to them during a Thieves meeting that Akechi is not invited to. Also, when Joker splits them up into groups, Joker is sometimes paired up with only Crow.

The rest of the Thieves give each other unimpressed looks. “That’s… the opposite of reassuring,” Makoto says with a pained sigh.

“If anything happens, I’ll be fine. Plus, Futaba knows where I am at all times, and she can always reach me through the comms. I’ll say something if anything happens.”

Everyone gives each other such a significant look that Akira wonders if maybe the Thieves are having secret meetings that he isn’t invited to, either. But they don’t push him on it.

He asks Ryuji about it when everyone else has gone, Haru’s taken Morgana for the night, and it’s just the two of them in Akira’s attic. “We’re just… worried for you,” says Ryuji, scratching the back of his head. “The entire reason Akechi’s even here is to kill you, right? Guy’s a liar and probably a murderer and we don’t even know how dangerous he is. His Persona’s already crazy strong and Makoto thinks he’s got more tricks up his sleeve, too.”

Akira thought that through already. The probability is that Akechi can’t kill him until they’ve gotten to the end of the palace, and stolen Sae’s “heart” on the exact day that Akechi requested. On the other hand, it’s still just a probability. Maybe Akechi can kill him whenever he wants. “It’ll be fine,” says Akira.

“I mean, I know that,” says Ryuji, and sighs. “I guess… it’d be one thing if we just thought he might kill you the second we’re not lookin’, but I–I dunno. We were all worried ‘cause we thought that you kept pairing yourself up with Crow on purpose ‘cause you liked that he might…”

Ryuji trails away. “Uh, actually, never mind. Sounds dumb now that I say it aloud, honestly. Forget about it. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” says Akira.

***

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who lived in a good town, with a good family, with only good neighborhoods. There were never any bad neighborhoods to duck into and pick any fights with the wrong kind of people. There were never any bad bars to lose yourself in and make out with the wrong person. There were no criminals or thieves or so-called bad influences for a boy to get involved in.

Akira Kurusu is still a good boy. He lives in Tokyo now. He never finds himself so furious he can’t think, and he never heads to Mementos to punch shadows full of bullet holes, or (hopefully) get the shit kicked out of him. Akira Kurusu never scales the highest, tallest buildings in the Metaverse’s palaces, just to feel the ice-cold fear in his stomach hit him like a shot of vodka. Akira Kurusu never cuts it too close to the Palace deadline, just to feel the danger prickle on the back of his neck, or see the nervousness in his teammates’ eyes. He never makes an alliance with someone who doesn’t love him, just to wring some mutual benefit for the both of them like pulling blood from a stone.

Akira Kurusu never lurks on the school roof, or picks up shifts at Crossroads, or skulks in alleyways long after his bedtime, hoping for some douchebag to take a dislike to his face and give him a good reason to get some blood under his nails and feel alive for an hour. Whoever walks the Tokyo streets is some nameless, faceless specter, of no future and no past, to disappear when the sun rises.

Akira Kurusu is a good boy who gets good grades and runs Sojiro’s coffee shop when Sojiro is out. His face is blank and impassive, and there’s definitely no grudges locked behind his teeth. He goes to school on time and answers all the questions right and speaks to no one. He doesn’t think about girls. He also doesn’t think about boys.

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who, one day at a TV station, met another good boy named Goro Akechi, who smiled politely and said all the right things, who never had a bad thought in his head or a fury in his throat. When Goro Akechi comes to set up camp in Leblanc, it is of course no problem, because Goro Akechi is a good boy who would never wait for hours just to see the whites of his prey’s eyes, and Akira Kurusu is a good boy who’s never done anything wrong, and never hungers for the sharp jolt of being pursued pressed like a blade against his neck.

Because they are both two very good boys, it is never a threat when Goro Akechi smiles at him in the subway station, and Akira’s smile back to the quick heartbeat of adrenaline is never real.

***

Anyway, the next day a Ganesha throws Joker through a slot machine.

“Joker!” Crow is probably saying, although Joker can’t hear a whole lot while upside down and covered in casino chips and bits of machine parts. Joker appreciates the concern, though, considering that Joker’s just split up the group again, and it’s only Joker and Crow against this brick shithouse of an elephant god. When Joker springs back up, his coattails and bits of bloody chips go flying; his whole body is singing. Crow says, “Hamao–”

That’s Joker’s least favorite move. No fun when Crow’s Hamaons or Mudoons land right, and the shadow drops clean like a cut puppet, no blood, no mess, no struggle. “Hecantoncheires!” Joker interrupts, and feels another chunk of his life force get gouged out as payment for a Swift Strike.

“Ganesha resists physical!” Crow snaps.

Joker pulls out his gun and unloads the whole clip and only stops when Crow kicks him out of the way of Ganesha’s angry swipe. “It’s weak to Psychokinesis, Joker! Finish this quickly!”

Trust Crow to have memorized all the shadows’ weaknesses. He sounds just like Queen does when Joker’s not taking it seriously enough for her. Joker pulls Kunishinada from his soul and casts a weak Psi, sweeping the shadow right off its massive feet to hit the ground with a floor-shaking crash. Joker pulls out his dagger. If Ganesha was going to beg or bargain, Joker’s not interested. He wants a good old-fashioned fight.

When Joker’s dagger slices through Ganesha’s fat stomach, Ganesha’s death throes slam a fist right into Joker’s back, crushing him and tearing Joker’s dagger straight through Ganesha’s body. Ganesha explodes into shadow dust and a shower of yen.

When Joker stands back up, he can feel himself beaming like a maniac, and Crow seems to almost smile back just out of pure shock. And with the Ganesha gone, it’s just Joker and the last and only enemy that mattered in the middle of the casino floor, surrounded by the Sae’s machines chattering out numbers of the highest, highest stakes. Joker’s enemy is sizing Joker up in the wake of battle, examining the blood streaking down his face; Joker’s enemy is sweeping his body from head to toe with his dark red eyes, lingering at the cinch of Joker’s vest waist, the high collars. Joker’s enemy’s eyes are wide.

“Gorgeous,” says Joker, and then collapses.

Crow’s over him in a second, but before he can say anything, Oracle’s voice comes over the line: “Joker? Your reading’s are a little wonky, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” says Joker. He sounds remarkably fine, actually, considering that his vision’s going a little grey.

“You’re not–”

Joker presses a finger to his own lips. Crow shuts up, his eyes glittering and rapt. “I’m fine,” says Joker again to Oracle. “It was just a skirmish with a shadow. Nothing big.”

“Uhhhhhh… Okay? You know where the safe room is if you need it? Noir’s not too far away if you need a hand, too.”

“Thanks, Oracle.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” says Oracle, which makes Crow’s lips purse for some reason. The line clicks off.

“Don’t tell me you’re fine,” says Crow immediately. His voice is shaking.

“I am fine.”

“I can see the blood–!”

“That’s a flesh wound.”

“This is no time for jokes,” says Crow sharply.

“Worried?” asks Joker. His to-be murderer, fretting about death coming a little too soon for his tastes? Ah, his to-be murderer is tracing his gloved fingers by Joker’s exposed and open neck.

Crow ignores him. “Robin Hood doesn’t know any healing spells. Can you heal yourself?”

“I’m out of magic.”

Crow looks like he’s trying very hard to be a good, straight-laced detective who doesn’t say “fuck” and also doesn’t panic. Crow is taking deep breaths, like he’s the one who go punched in the chest twice by a two-thousand pound elephant. “That was incredibly foolhardy of you.”

“It was just a bit of fun.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but what part about getting the shit kicked out of you was fun?”

Joker has the stupidest, goofiest smile on his face, he knows, because he’s half-drunk on all his wounds and, in his defense, there is a very pretty murderer with a sharp, sharp sword and gun that never misses staring down at him, their masks close enough to touch, Crow’s hands close enough to strangle him to death right there on the casino floor. Joker wants to see what would happen if Crow tried. “It’s not fun if it can’t at least kill you,” he says, more sincerely than he meant to.

Crow’s throat works and swallows hard. His hands are tight around Joker’s chest. “I–think I have some medicine in my pocket,” he says suddenly, and tears his eyes away. It turns out that he actually does, surprisingly, in the form of one of Takemi’s pill packets and a crushed protein bar. Crow watches Joker carefully to make sure that Joker actually takes them both. He keeps watching everything Joker does, really, from the way Joker pulls the packet apart, to the tiny bites he takes, to his careful swallows. When Joker spits a wad of blood out to clear his throat, Crow stares at it like he’s never seen the color red before.

“Let’s go back to the others,” Crow says, when Joker’s finished regaining whatever strength he can. “We can hardly have the illustruous leader of the Phantom Thieves dying here.” And all the way back, Crow refuses to leave Joker’s side.

For Joker’s to-be murderer, Crow seems to care an awful lot about whether or not Joker lives or dies, Joker thinks.

***

(i love procrastinating. send a prompt)

#me reading this prompt: yes............... yes................ YES #mine #Anonymous

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capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

Text

Inseparable Dyad (4)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: When Cal follows his instincts to revisit Zeffo, you sense a great disturbance and urgency in the Force. A trap was set by bounty hunters who wanted either—or both—of your heads, but no one knows who has put the price.

1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Cal was getting impatient with Mux’s mind games and the suspense. The syndicate boss has already sent two waves of creatures against him and Cal has laid waste on the arena floors. Clearly, the Jedi isn’t the best definition of amused.

“Where is [y/n]?!”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there now, lover boy! You’ll see your girlfriend soon enough,” Mux replied in a sinister tone.

Mux cranked a lever from his box, a cage began lowering into the arena, the clinking of the chains mixed with the cacophony of the erratic audience; the cage stopped and dangled in the arena, the crowd swooned at the sight of the cage and proceeded to cheer.

“[Y/N]!!!” Cal cried at the sight of you in the cage.

“Cal!” you called back but not helplessly, you were relieved that he’s been holding up for now.

“Remember what I said about the motivation thing? Well, THIS is it!”

Mux cranks another lever and the gates on the walls of the arena open up again, except that the doors that opened were much larger. To you and Cal’s horror—but to the excitement of the audience and their host—two Rancors come out of the cells. The audience booms in cheer for every roar the Rancors make. It takes a dozen men to heel each one down before the fun actually starts. The second Rancor, irritated by the pulling and the chains chafing its neck, snatched one of its handlers and ate it to console itself.

“OH MY GOD…” you and Cal say in unison.

These creatures always seem to be angry and hungry—or a combination of both—and anything that moves in front of them is food: that means you and Cal.

“That’s the fourth handler this week that’s been eaten!” Mux sniggered through his announcer’s microphone, the audience received his dry joke quite well.

“That’s not looking good,” Cal muttered to his nervous self.

“Well, folks, who do you think IS the first bite? The Jedi… or his pretty little sweetheart right here?”

Mux continued to rile up the crowd, his cackle mixing with their shouts, though little did he know that you’ve begun to take advantage of the situation. Before you were brought inside the cage, you secretly reached for the silver pin fastened on your belt, to make yourself more believable you waited until Mux would lower the cage with you in it to provoke Cal.

When you were brought to the arena, you reached for the lock and started picking it. Cal squinted his eyes and saw what you were doing, he got an idea of what you were trying to pull and he played along with it. He put his fingers between his lips and a sharp whistle caught the attention of the Rancors.

“Okay, that’s got their attention,”

With Cal diverting the Rancors’ to him, you hurriedly picked through the lock and ended up in success. You turned around in view of Mux Odra and shot him a smug look. Mux knew something was not right—you shouldn’t be smiling in the first place.

You stuck out your arm through the spaces of the bars, Force-pulled your lightsaber that was lying on Mux Odra’s box seat, and then kicked the door open before the crime boss could realize that you have broken out of your cage. You leapt out, there was an evident shift of the audience’s mood—matching with Mux’s unpleasant surprise—and sprinted towards the duo of Rancors that got Cal dodging at every chance.

“WHAT?! NO!!!”

The first Rancor positioned itself in a low crouch, as if scaring Cal first with a roar before going for the kill, and that was your opportunity to make an entrance. Your agile legs hopped on to the back of the Rancor, ran across its spine, and—like what you did to the Oggdo—drove your lightsaber hard into its skull.

While it did not instantly kill the Rancor, its shrill wailing nearly deafened everyone in the arena—Mux Odra included—you had to hold on for dear life and praying at the same time that you don’t get hurled towards the other Rancor’s maws. Your free hand took hold of the hilt and pulled out your saber in the same force as you’ve pushed it into the creature. There was a split second of the Rancor standing still and you jumped off the back of its head and joined Cal.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” he greeted nonchalantly.

“Are you kidding me? Two Rancors all to yourself? Give me some of the fun!” you clapped back.

You took on the Rancor that you’ve marked with your lightsaber. It was still standing with the energy that remained after the pain had seeped it all away, now it’s angrier than it was when it came into the arena. Cal riddled his Rancor with seared slashed marks, the embers from his blade cooked the monster’s flesh until it blackened, and eventually took one of its digits.

The thrill of the fight ensues, the crowd still goes wild with the battle between the Jedi and the Rancors. Mux Odra was still in shock by your little stage stunt although the crowd seemed to like the splendor that you put it in. Much later, he’s convinced himself enough that you will die—not by the Rancor’s claws but by your youthful arrogance.

The Rancor was about to take hold of you with its three-fingered claw but—nimble as you are—you slipped through the gap between its legs, you instantly jumped back on your toes and you crippled its hind legs, striking hard enough for the blade to slice through skin and then bone. The creature shrieked and lost its balance, before it could allow itself to fall, it gave one last backhanded swing at you—you flung your lightsaber towards the incoming hand, slipped underneath the narrow gap of the arm within the split second window time, your lightsaber severed the Rancor’s arm and found its way back to your firm grip as you caught it at the end of the throw. The creature fumbled, losing the very little life remaining in it, and you put it out of its misery: spinning your lightsaber in preparation of a sharp stab in the neck and gutted its throat for good measure.

Cal was quite busy with his own Rancor. Cuts and slash marks were engraved into many parts of the monster’s body. You spotted him snapping for a stim but the Rancor was just a blink away from lunging in with its snappers; without hesitation, you extended your arm, palm wide open, and a nearly-invisible wavy sheen coats the creature—you’ve Force-slowed the Rancor, enough time for Cal to use the stim. Cal immediately returned to the action. He took advantage of the Rancor’s slowed state—he splits his lightsaber into two and carves them deep into the creature’s torso upwards, instantly killing it. He stepped back and watched the Rancor fall dead to the ground, disturbing the fine sand on the arena’s floor.

Suddenly, the crowd’s cheer was evidently softer compared to when the Rancors were still alive. It’s apparent that they don’t take kindly to the triumph that you’ve won together.

“NOOOO!!! THOSE WERE MY BEST RANCORS!!!” Mux bellowed so loudly that it felt like the whole arena shook.

The crime boss, in a frenzy of rage and panic, hit all other buttons to the doors that haven’t been opened yet. Both of you were prepared for the worst—you were exhausted, struggling to catch your breath—but you were ready for Mux’s next wave. Cal looked around quickly, examined the walls of the arena, he saw the doors that have released creatures since the fight started remained opened; he examined again, looking left and right while counting the remaining closed doors.

“Two,” he uttered within your earshot.

“What?”

“Look, the doors that stay open are the ones that had enemies released. There are six doors around the arena,”

You looked around as you listened and did the math. You spotted the last two closed doors that were nearest Mux Odra’s box—and they’re just as big as the Rancors’ doors.

“Okay, okay,” Mux spoke in a tone as if trying to calm himself down, then he violently clutched his microphone to his mouth and snarled. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just have to send more of my pets!”

The last two doors finally opened and released an interesting array of medium to large-sized creatures: a Tuk’ata, an Anoatian pit beast, an Acklay to name a few. These animals were still fazed after probably being kept in their dark cages, it took them time to adjust to the harsh, bright light of the arena. The entrance of these creatures revived the crowd’s vigor and thirst for macabre entertainment.

While the creatures were crying out in a cacophony of their own screeches, bellows, and snarls, there was a gradual rumbling that you felt under your feet. With every passing second, the rumbling grows stronger and stronger until the Mantis has reared its sharp hull right into the arena’s entrance—crumbling and reducing a portion of the bleachers to chunks of rock.

You and Cal made a run for it, deflecting the beastmasters’ blasters as you sprinted towards the entrance ramp, and Force-pushing whichever animal was coming after you. The Mantis landed quite near Mux Odra’s box, you noticed that the foundation was cracked and could crumble if push comes to shove.

“Hey, Odra!” you called, standing at the tip of the entry ramp.

His eyes were glassy with sheer confusion, panic, and then rage when he took a good look at you. He cursed you several things that he could afford to say while the Mantis was still prepping for take-off; you returned his contempt for you with a smug face and a single shrug of the shoulder.

“I told you I’d destroy you!” You cried out nonchalantly.

Your attention went to the crumbling foundation of his box, a single flick of your hand using Force-pull took one of the big chunks that it held together and then the rest of it started cascading down. Mux Odra felt gravity betraying him and you gave him a two-finger salute as goodbye before he went down with his pets.

You threw yourself into the Mantis and slammed the button to close the door.

“GO!!!” You cried.

Greez put the pedal to the metal, backing up real good to pull the Mantis’s hull out of the hole it has made in the arena, and fled. Through the windshield, the exterior of the arena was in view: it was pretty much like a space outpost like the Haxion Brood’s, the only difference was that this one was a retrofitted Republic outpost. Your guess was either a medical outpost or a communications outpost.

Not far from the outpost, small fighter ships were already in hot pursuit; they started blasting, you stole Cal’s co-pilot seat and then returned fire. Cal was thoroughly impressed with your clean shooting, taking out the two fighters that zoomed past you—probably preparing for another attack run.

“How much time do we got before the jump to hyperspace, Captain?!” you hollered.

“Almost there!”

You pulled the trigger on the last fighter ship and then Greez cranked the lever; the ship was enveloped in a white tube of light until it has finally entered hyperspace.

“Catch your breaths now, children, you’re safe,” Cere reassured.

You stood from the co-pilot seat and found your way to the couch surrounding the holotable. You and Cal slumped on the couch, tension and exhaustion escaped your bodies as you caught your breaths and relaxed. That was enough action for today.

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evolutionsvoid · 6 years ago

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The Ghilani tend to live in wet, plant-rich places, mainly swamps, fens and bogs. Due to their slick, moist skin, they seek out habitat that is constantly damp or has plenty of available water sources. They like territory that has a ton of vegetation and mud, which they use to construct their homes and hunt prey. Their houses are more like burrows, with each individual creating an underground living space out of mud, root and vine. Most living structures are partially buried, giving their villages the look of a town that was drowned by a mudslide. Other structures that are used for food prep, storage, rearing, worship and livestock are built above ground to make more space. Due to their love of dampness and mud, very few of their structures have water-proof roofs. The only places that aim to keep out water are structures used to store food, and places where livestock and other species may dwell or mingle. If you were to look at a Ghilani, I am sure you could instantly guess who they are related to. Indeed, the Ghilani are leeches and they share many traits with them. Their skin is segmented, and is covered in a damp membrane that secretes mucus. They possess no bones in their body, which makes them incredibly flexible. They can expand and contract in ridiculous ways, making them second only to Slimes when it comes to squeezing into tight spaces. This incredibly bending and stretching can be seen with their arms and "legs." The arms of a Ghilani are broad and flat, ending in four suction-cup like fingers. Though they do not possess an actual thumb, their boneless nature makes such a thing obsolete. These arms can swell and stretch in many ways, but they often remain flat to help with wrapping and binding prey. Being hugged by a Ghilani is quite like being wrapped up in a thick wet sheet! Their "legs" are more like tentacles that split from their lower end. While they possess two of these tendrils, they are capable of sticking them together into one serpentine limb. This is meant to help them traverse a variety of environments, as the two tentacles can help with climbing and holding on, while the singular limb helps with speed. To add to their appendage arsenal is their long, trunk-like mouth, which can serve as an extra limb in a pinch. Packed with sensors, it also serves to track prey and communicate. When Ghilani wish to truly speak to one another on a personal level, they may touch trunks or wrap them around one another. To go with their sensitive snouts are six eyes that line their heads. These organs are meant to greatly expand their field of vision, especially when contorting into strange poses. On their bellies are a hollow "mantle" which is used to suction themselves onto a surface, or carry bundles of goods. Looking at their sides, you can spot breathing holes that aid their skin in respiratory functions. It is through these that they also speak, able to use air and muscle to simulate a voice that we auditory-centered creatures can understand. For coloration, they can vary wildly, but a majority of them are made of browns, greens and other dark colors, which help them blend in with their surroundings. With all that together, you have an extremely flexible creature that can climb any surface, traverse any obstacle and nab any prey with their many powerful limbs. Due to their relations with leeches, you probably already guessed what they feed on. Blood makes up a good chunk of their diet, which is consumed with the aid of their long, flexible mouths. If you have ever seen a Ghilani, their trunk-like mouth is probably the first thing you noticed. At rest, the long appendage is coiled up under their head so that it doesn't get in the way. When it comes time to hunt, feed or communicate, it will unfurl to its full length. Though quite long, their mouth is only on the tip of this trunk, splitting it into a three-lobed orifice. On the inside of these fleshy petals are tiny razor sharp teeth, arranged much like a saw you would see at a sawmill. Though hardly visible, they can easily slice through skin and rinds, which allows them to reach the tasty fluids within. In fact, they are so small and sharp that their cuts are painless, which helps them feed without alerting or waking prey. In the middle of these toothy petals is their actual mouth, which is no bigger than the shaft of a quill. This little mouth will clamp onto the wound and slurp up the blood that leaks out. To help gain the most from its meal, their mouths secrete a saliva that prevents blood from clotting, so that their food does not stop until they do. With their mouth poised on the tip of this prehensile trunk, they can feed in a variety of different ways. In some cases, they may use this appendage to sneak up on sleeping beasts and nab a quick meal while they slumber. It can also snake its way through burrows and tunnels to nab hiding prey, and even coil around squirming targets to keep them from escaping. Be they high or low, the Ghilani can use their amazing mouths to reach any morsel. While one may think that this means no animal is safe, the Ghilani actually have a wider diet than you would believe. When it comes to their diet, one of their biggest staples is blood. This fluid is consumed from both the living and dead, though they prefer to eat it as fresh as possible. To acquire this food source, there are two different options: hunting or harvesting. The "hunting" option means going out in the wilderness and tracking down live prey. Groups of three to four will depart and use their acute senses to pick up scent trails and pheromones. Slithering silently through mud and water, they stalk their targets and decide which course of action to take. For larger creatures, they may choose to wait until it is distracted or sleeping and use their trunks to sneak in a quick drink. This option only satiates those who are actively hunting, which doesn't help the folk back home. If prey is manageable, they may choose to either kill it or capture it. Beasts that are too dangerous or risky to capture alive will be killed, and their carcasses will be taken back to the village for draining. Those they can manage will be taken alive, as they prefer to keep the blood as fresh as possible. Since they are hemophages, many people imagine that they use sharp blades and razor weapons to slice, cut and gut. Surely a bloodsucker would want to get as much precious fluid outside the body as possible, right? Wrong, actually. The truth is that the Ghilani want to keep as much blood as they can inside the target, as the stuff that leaks out will be wasted. So instead they seek to dispatch prey as quickly and cleanly as possible, to prevent any wasted blood. With that in mind, their weaponry revolves around keeping prey in one piece. A good chunk of their weaponry will be blunt, which they can use to knock prey out or stun them. Pulverized critters will not leak as much blood as chopped up ones! The other type of weaponry they use is designed to snare and tangle targets, which helps to either catch them or slow them enough for a kill. Ropes, nets and vines will be used to snare prey and pin them down, which gives the hunters time to either feed or tie them up for transport. One favorite weapon of theirs is called the Snare Staff, which is pretty much a stick with a loop of vine or rope at the end. The loop size can vary, and some are even adjustable, while the staffs are designed so that they can be wielded with one or two hands. The purpose of this tool is to catch the head, neck or limbs of prey within its loop, which is then twisted to form a tight noose. With multiple hunters, they can eventually snare every thrashing limb and pin prey down. While this sounds painfully simple, Ghilani use this tool with deadly efficiency. Since they want to prevent bleeding injuries, they will kill prey through other methods. If they can get a loop around the neck, they shall tighten it until they strangle the target. For larger prey, they may snare its limbs and force it towards a body of water. There they will use their tools and nets to force its head underwater where it will drown. Horrible as it sounds, it does save a lot of blood! And I must say that the hunters are well trained with the Snare Staff! I tried to wield it myself, but the floppy loop was just too hard to control and predict while I was swinging it around. The same could not be said for my trainer, you used their staff to yank me off my roots mid-step! They disarmed me in seconds and the next thing I know I was bundled up like a present! Definitely not my proudest moment!

The other option they have for gathering blood is harvesting it, which is done with livestock that they keep in their villages. They keep them much like how one would keep pigs or nectar cows, but instead of meat or nectar, they harvest blood from them. In some cases, a Ghilani may feed directly on the animal with their mouth, just grabbing a quick bite to fill their tummies. At other times, they may cut the animal and drain some blood into a bowl or pouch, which will either be eaten later or mixed into something else. For both of these, the Ghilani will only take a small amount, never enough to truly harm the animal. They wish to keep their livestock alive and healthy for as long as possible, so that they may gain more food over time. At first this may seem barbaric and cruel, but they take good of their livestock and make sure that they stay happy and healthy. Taking too much or mistreating them will often result in sickness or infection, which means bad blood. The livestock they keep will vary, but they are often large bodied animals that are herbivores or omnivores. Prey that is captured during hunts will be kept in a similar fashion, but they often do not live as long. This is usually because they are not adapted to a domesticated life or they cannot be efficiently cared for. Regardless, they shall keep them as long as they can, and when they notice that the animal is declining in health they will put it down. When old livestock or captured prey are slaughtered, all their fluids will be drained out and the bodies will be carved up to gather meat, bone, shell and hide. Though this is how they obtain blood, it is not the only way they gather food, as Ghilani feed on other fluids as well. With such a small mouth, the Ghilani are incapable of chewing and eating solid food. Rather, they fill their diet with a variety of liquids and juices. The bones of prey that are not being used for tools will often be boiled to make broth. Outside of blood and bone, Ghilani also feed on certain fruits and vegetables, which they pulverize into a juice. Worms and insects are consumed as well, and they too are mashed into a paste. In short, the mortar and pestle are a common tool in a Ghilani household. A wide variety of foodstuffs can be mashed down into a liquid, which they either slurp from a bowl, or store it in a "drinking skin." These drinking skins are much like water skins, but they hold much more than water. They are crafted from harvested organs and hide, and the Ghilani pour their liquid concoctions inside for later consumption. If they ever travel, they shall carry several of these canteens with them, as that is the only way they can store their food. While blood does make up a good chunk of their diet, Ghilani do enjoy the taste of other things. Certain juices and mixtures are favored purely for flavor, as they pose no nutritional benefit. There are certain concoctions that they cannot even digest properly, but they shall drink it and spit it out so that they can get the taste in their mouths. Such drinks are consumed with a spittoon close at hand, but the muddy floor will be used if one isn't available. In their villages, they have trained brewers who mix up soups, juices and even potions out of gathered ingredients. It is a role that creates a food and drink for the town, but it also doubles as a healer with their wonderful potions and concoctions. Another chunk of their diet comes from an unlikely source, and one that is a more recent addition to their menu. To properly talk about this, we should mention what Ghilani do with the meat of their harvested prey and livestock. As you can imagine, their mouths are incapable of chewing and tearing flesh, which makes meat rather useless for them. After it is harvested, they pound it, knead it and wring it the best they can to extract every drop of blood and juice. What is left is inedible for them, so they find different uses for them. If they keep omnivores as livestock, the meat shall be given to them as food. Some can be used as bait for traps and snares, luring in juicier prey. A good chunk is actually dried and cured into jerky, which they trade with other species. It may sound odd to trade jerky for other goods, but the Ghilani produce so much of it, that other settlements cannot resist getting a piece. Any who are hungry for meat will never be disappointed when they visit a Ghilani trader, and they are a good way to quickly stock up for a long trip or coming winter. Just be wary that it might be a little tough and chewy, as they are good at getting every drop of moisture out of it. Though the Ghilani still get a good amount of use from their dried meats, they still wondered if there was a way to make it edible for them. Well, that is where "Souper Juice" came in (quite the name, eh?)! The creation of this beloved juice supposedly started down south, in Ghilani villages built within tropical rainforests. It is said that these Ghilani one day stumbled upon a pale village that hung from the trees, inhabited by those of false faces and many limbs. Curious, they slithered their way in and searched for anything useful or edible. It was there they made an amazing discovery. Hanging from the branches were pale, sticky pods, which the Ghilani quickly cut open. Inside was a sight to behold! Entire carcasses being turned into soup! Flesh and organs melting away into a delicious drinkable slurry! The Ghilani couldn't believe their eyes when they saw it, and they quickly rushed home to spread the news. Later, a whole raiding party went to the village, where they found it to be very populated and very unwelcoming. It was here they met the Gralatars face to face, and things were quite tense. The Ghilani asked the spiderfolk how they achieved such an amazing feat, as surely it had to be some special magic. What was revealed instead was that the Gralatars used special digestive fluids to break down flesh into a soup that they slurped up. The revelation blew the Ghilani away and they immediately sought a way to harness such a thing for themselves. This is when the first incarnations of "Souper Juice" appeared. It started with them trading with the Gralatars in order to gain access to small portions of digestive fluid and the occasional webbed up corpse. With time and experimentation, the Ghilani soon created a recipe for a special mixture that they could make themselves. Now when these leechfolk hunt prey, they be sure to collect the animal's stomach acid and bile. They also keep an eye out for prey that secrete similar digestive fluids, like Ogre Spiders and Sarcorasil, so that they can harvest it and add it to their mixture. Following their secret recipe, they mix these fluids and other ingredients to create something known as "Souper Juice." With large quantities of this juice, they will stuff prey into water-tight pots and containers, add the Souper Juice and then seal it up. Over time, the fluid will melt the carcass into a drinkable soup that the Ghilani can then enjoy! This invention was quite the revolution for the Ghilani, as they now created a new source of food for them. It is said that Souper Juice is responsible for population booms within their villages, as they now had another way to feed their masses. Even with this juice on hand, they still cannot consume all the meat that they harvest. The juice takes a lot of ingredients to make and a good amount is needed to fully liquidize a body. So a good portion of meat is still used and sold, but they can at least now enjoy in the spoils! And with such a rich slurry, any small bit of it is enough to nourish them for a long time! One special thing to note is that with this grand creation one should never use the word "super" around a Ghilani. The reason is that the word "super" sounds exactly like "souper," and the Ghilani will always assume you mean the latter. Since Souper Juice is such an important and amazing thing, they will always assume you mean "souper," which leads to many confusing arguments. I am not saying anything bad will come from using the word, just expect to get stuck in a ridiculous situation where you desperately try to explain what you mean to a confused leech. Like many leeches, Ghilani are hermaphrodites, possessing both male and female reproductive organs. It is a situation similar to dryads, where any member of the species can fertilize or carry offspring. The difference, though, is that while a majority of dryads identify as female, most Ghilani don't identify as any gender at all. Very rarely will you see one who goes by "he" or "she," with most of them sticking with "they" or "them." For reproduction, any member of the community may breed and carry eggs, but is often a selected group who will actually take part in such an act. Every year, the leaders of the village will select individuals from a lottery, and they will be the ones who make up the year's breeding group. All will mingle with one another, intertwining their bodies during the act. When it comes time to lay, each Ghilani will lay dozens of yellow, squishy eggs. These small eggs are wrapped into a clutch with mucus and carried within the flexible mantle of the birther. For weeks, they shall be cared for, making sure they are kept moist and safe. Once they swell to a large size, the eggs will be deposited into a protected pool within the village. All the breeders will add their eggs to this body of water, and the whole village will watch over them. In time, the eggs will hatch and the larvae will be released into the water. It should be noted that not all eggs will hatch, as a good portion will fail to properly develop. These failed offspring, though, will serve as a source of food for the larvae, who shall latch on and feed. When these are depleted, the adults will fill organs to bursting with blood and place them in the pool as a replacement. As the larvae grow, the villagers will introduce actual prey to the water, showing the young how to properly eat. Despite hundreds of eggs being laid and dozens of young being birthed, only a fraction will actual survive to fully exit the rearing pool. So much so that young Ghilani will not receive their names until they emerge from the waters. This surviving group is then taken in by the elders and they begin their schooling. The process of birthing and raising young is something that is undertaken by the whole village. Very few Ghilani actually know who their parents are, and many do not find such a fact important. The parents also are not attached to their young, as the whole village acts as guardian and teacher. The term "family" is something that they apply to their whole town, or to whatever groups they live with. Ghilani also don't really observe the idea of "siblings," as they come from an unknown variety of parents. The only real connecting thread between such individuals is what year they were born. Even then, they do not use numbers to denote such a thing. Rather, such groups are referred to as "clutches," and if you were to be born from the same "clutch" as another member, than the two of you are "clutchmates." To differentiate between clutches, each one is given a title by the overseeing elders. These names often reflect what happened during that breeding season, or any important events that occurred during the year. For example, one year could have the "Clutch of the Singing Waters" due to the massive boom in frog populations during the spring. Another could be called the "Clutch of the Pale Reeds" if the local pond vegetation contracts a terrible fungal infection. Such titles vary wildly between villages, and there are indeed instances of overlap or duplication. The Ghilani answer to this is "so?" as they don't really view such a thing as important. Survival and well being of their town and young have higher priority over such frivolous things. This is apparent when it comes to naming a clutch and the elders find that the breeding year has been extremely uneventful. The best example I can think of is the "Clutch of the Inquisitive Tree." While I remember the weeks I spent in that Ghilani village quite fondly, I really didn't expect such a result. Apparently my visit and stay was the most eventful thing that happened that year. I am quite honored, but does that make me their honorary mother? I am not sure what to say to that, but I don't think I can take care of that many larvae! I already have my hands full with one sapling, and don't know if I can manage with any more! Anyways, I am sure my description of their child rearing practices may have given people the wrong impression of them (that and how most people freak out over the whole blood-drinking thing). While that may make them seem uncaring and callous, Ghilani are actually quite nice and are always happy to lend a hand. Since they see their town as a single family, they each take it upon themselves to perform their duty and insure that they do their part. No one is left out and no one is forgotten, as each member of their community is just as important as everyone else. They find their roles within the village and take those jobs to heart. Be it a hunter, farmer, elder or brewer, each Ghilani plays a vital part in their community. This mentality of working together and supporting one another is what makes them surprisingly friendly to outsiders. While some may assume hemophages to be violent and bloodthirsty, they greet each traveler and stranger with warmth. When I inquired about this, they explained that each visitor that arrives is capable of bringing something to the community, no matter how big or small. Be it food, knowledge or morale, every stranger can potentially be a blessing and could even become a part of the town itself. With that in mind, it would be foolish and harmful to the community to turn away others or meet one with anger. I find that mentality quite lovely, though a part of me suspects there may be an extra bit of reasoning behind it. The reputation of the Ghilani is not a good one for many blood-filled species, and paranoia has led to many unfortunate incidents. I kind of think that the Ghilani may be taking a more warm and open approach to those who somehow find their towns in hopes of quashing these fears. I certainly respect that and I hope more people learn that these fine fellows are not the monsters they think they are. The time I spent with them was quite wonderful, and they were happy to take me in and teach me their ways. I got to join in on some of their hunts, help brewers prepare special potions and soups, watch the rearing of their young and so much more! I even got to try out their soups and juices, which was quite interesting, though not exactly my taste. At one point I tried to live off the Ghilani diet to see what it would be like, but I had to call it quits after four days. The amount of blood was a little much, and some of their soups were much too strong for me. That, and an all-liquid diet does some weird things to your digestive system. To the outside world, the Ghilani are a race that is often met with suspicion and paranoia. Their hemophage ways have led to people instantly labeling them as "vampires" and "parasites" (do take mind that calling a Ghilani a "parasite" is highly offensive. Not only does it label them as something lower, but it also implies that they rely on others to survive and don't pull their fair share). Certain settlements will not let them enter, and others set strict rules upon them if they do visit. In these cases, the Ghilani are banned from certain sections of town, they are not allowed near livestock and they cannot stay after dark. I have even heard of people sending the Convent of the Holy Blood after traveling bands of Ghilani! How horrible! They aren't vampires, you imbeciles! Thankfully, not all races are terrified of them. Due to their preference in habitat, Ghilani often run into Marsh Dryads and the two coexist quite happily! There are even a number of towns that are a mix of the two communities, fusing their villages together so that they can aid one another. The Ghilani are also in good standing with the Gralatars, which may be a result of their trade negotiations from long ago. Though the two don't often live together, they respect each other's territory and are always happy to trade or hold celebrations. And lastly are the Slimes, who really don't know what the whole "blood-drinking" fuss is about. To be fair, the Slimes don't have a beef with anyone, so I guess that isn't saying a whole lot. Still, it is nice to see people who don't give into tall tales and panic. If people were to give them a chance, you would see what good they can do! I mean, when it comes to potion brewing, the Ghilani are second to none! They know how to mix up some amazing things, and that applies to plain old brewing as well! They make some drinks that would blow your bark off! The only thing that I drank that was stronger was some Metnalan Seared Mondmilch during my Underworld visit! I blacked out after half a mug and when I woke up I saw every color backwards and I couldn't taste for two days! Stories aside, Ghilani are also great healers as well. It appears that their sensitive snouts and acute senses allows them to pick up on thing many may miss, and their salves are some of the best around! Their mouths are perfect for medicinal bleeding, and those treated in such a way rarely ever get infections. Not only can they suck bad blood out, but they have learned a technique of putting stuff back in! Apparently the Ghilani have a way to get medicine and salves through the skin and closer to the source of the problem. They take whatever potion they want to administer and draw a small portion into their mouths. They will then latch onto the target location, cut open the skin and slowly feed the fluid into the open wound. It may seem unsettling to many, but there are those who swear by it. I can certainly believe it! The Ghilani are quite crafty and they can come up with some amazing things! For example, when I was staying at the village, some of my friends introduced me to an infused mud bath! They took thick muddy waters and mixed in a variety of potions. The mixture caused it to heat and bubble, and it also introduced an invigorating sensation as you soaked it all in! I never felt so youthful after a bath like that! It was incredible! And yes, I am aware that it was just a pool of mud with stuff poured in it, but you had to be there! You're just jealous! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LEECH PEOPLE! YEAH! Ever since I saw people draw up leechfolk, I have wanted to join in on the fun. The trick, though, was coming up with a design that was unique enough. So I did my research and decided to forgo the fangs and teeth and go for something a little different! I love their goofy faces and I am so happy with their colors! Hope you guys like them! And this how you start the year! An essay of backstory about a monster species that took me hours to write! THIS WHAT WE'RE ALL ABOUT HERE, PEOPLE! HOPE YOU LIKE READING!

#leech #monster #creature #leechs #art #drawing #fantasy races #swamp #invertebrate

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werewolfdays · 6 years ago

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snippet-

ok i’d go so far as to say this is a snippet more than a drabble. really wanted to write a werewolf fight and quite liked it so why not post it. also has Nayda’s reaction to seeing Jayde kill someone for the first time. all in Nadya’s pov and here’s a song rec

I retreated to the far corner of the living room, scrambling backward on the ground. There were multiple lacerations that had started bleeding from me being pushed through the sliding glass door. One in particular was screaming at me more than the rest. I could feel there was a chunk of glass buried in the back of my shoulder, but I couldn’t think about that right now. The massive grey wolf approaching me, snarling and preparing to pounce was where all of my focus was.

The wolf stalked forward and I knew I had no chance. I was caught off guard, weaponless, cornered, bleeding. The odds were definitely against me. Was this it? After everything I was going to have my throat ripped out by a werewolf in an abandoned house, hundreds of miles away from home and even further from the life I used to have.

Like a last minute miracle, Jayde came bounding around the corner in her wolf form. At the sight of me and my condition I saw fury burn in her golden eyes. The grey wolf hesitated when he saw her which gave her enough time to firmly place herself in front of me. A moment of relief washed over me. I had every faith that Jayde could handle this situation, but I also became scared of what I was about to see.

Jayde started to growl. I’ve heard dogs growl. I’ve heard big dogs growl. But nothing compared to the deep, threatening rumble coming from the white wolf in front of me. It was menacing in every sense of the word and seemed to vibrate the air around her. The sound activated something primal within me. A shiver went down my spine and every instinct I had told me to run. I couldn’t even imagine what it must feel like to be on the receiving end of it.

The hostile werewolf took a couple steps back, instinctually bowing his head. I hoped that he was surrendering, but then he shook his snout with an indignant snort, baring his teeth in a challenge. Jayde’s body tensed, as he began to pace in front of us. The loud snarl of frustration echoed through the empty house as he sized Jayde up and looked for an opening. I wasn’t sure who would make the first move. I remained completely frozen, enthralled by the display in front of me and held my breath in anticipation.

I wasn’t sure what set her off. Maybe she saw something I didn’t; the twitch of a muscle, intent in his eyes. Or maybe she just grew impatient; her rage reaching a boiling point with the scent of my blood surely filling the room. Perhaps it was all of those things. Either way, in the blink of an eye, Jayde shot forward to attack.

Jayde slammed into the other wolf so hard that she knocked the both of them into the wall. The drywall caved in like paper, the impact shaking half of the house. Both wolves became a ferocious blur as they traded blows, their battle moving towards the kitchen. It was brutal and violent and soon I caught the glint of blood on the tiled floor. I just sat there like a terrified idiot, unable to do anything but watch.

The male wolf managed to get Jayde beneath him. He went for her neck, biting down and shaking his head to rip through her. My heart stopped at the high pitched whimper she let out. I had to do something. Searching my surroundings for anything I could use, I spotted a large jagged piece of glass lying on the floor from the broken door. I scrambled up and grabbed it. The edges would surely slice through my palm if I gripped it any tighter, but I would need to if I had a clear shot.

By the time I turned to go to Jayde’s aid, she had already escaped from the other wolf’s grasp. Crimson stained her snow white fur in a few places now and the other wolf looked just as rough. His back was to me. If Jayde distracted him I could make a move.

They seemed completely preoccupied with each other to notice me so I silently made my way towards him, the piece of glass raised and ready in my hand. The tension and fear in my body made me grip it harder than I intended to yet. I could feel it cut through the skin, but I had to ignore it. I also had to ignore the blatant danger I was putting myself in. Not just my life, my humanity was at stake. All it would take was one bite, a little of either of their blood to get into one of my open wounds to turn me. Was I prepared for that possibility?

Jayde noticed me approach, panic flashing across the wolf’s features. She barked at me in a clear warning to stay away and the noise was startling enough to make me stop in my tracks. Our foe didn’t bother to check over his shoulder to see what Jayde was barking at. He took the opportunity my unintentional distraction offered to strike at her again.

They sped off once more, tangled mess of gnashing teeth and furious growls. I wasn’t sure what to do. There was no way to get to the werewolf attacking her without getting in the middle of all that. Even if I did, I realized I would just do more harm than good. Jayde would be distracted by trying to keep me alive and that would surely get her killed. It would get both of us killed.

Frustrated, I threw the piece of glass down and tried to track their movements while staying out of the way. Jayde could handle this, I knew she could. I just had to stay out of her way no matter how badly my heart screamed against it.

The two wolves broke apart again. Their hard breaths filling the eerie silence as they circled each other. Jayde’s terrifying growls sounded again in a last warning to the other wolf. This fight was far too progressed for either of them to stand down. They both knew it. I knew it. Only one of them would get out of this alive. A huge part of me didn’t want anything to do with the scene before me. The thought of watching the end to this made me want to puke. But I wouldn’t leave Jayde.

In a shocking burst of speed, Jayde leapt forward and toppled her adversary off balance. With deadly accuracy, her jaws clamped down on his throat. She used the leverage she had to force him down while increasing the pressure to cut off his air. The grey wolf thrashed beneath her in a desperate attempt to free himself, but Jayde’s grip was far better than his had been. His back legs clawed at her stomach, even slicing through her flesh. It was like she didn’t notice as she kept biting down with more force, a snarl ever present rumbling in her chest. The amount of pressure must have been tremendous because I suddenly heard the sickening sound of bones snapping and crunching. Jayde just crushed the other werewolf’s neck. His thrashing ceased and the wolf’s body twitched once before completely going still.

I stood there, horrified at the sight. Jayde told me she’s killed before. Even admitted to liking it sometimes. I was determined not to judge her, but hearing about the things she’s done and witnessing it in person were two completely different things. The way she just killed someone in front of me, however necessary, frightened me. I could tell the sound of his neck breaking would never leave me. He was dead and the fight was over, but Jayde still held him down. I saw a merciless brutality in her then that made me feel like I was looking at a completely different person. Jayde was capable of things that I didn’t even think to imagine before.

It was then that I remembered something she told me after she revealed herself to be a werewolf, “I’m not interested in being a monster. At least not to people like you.”

When she finally released her death grip on the dead wolf, Jayde looked up at me. The expression on my face must have conveyed what I was feeling because I actually saw her look guilty. Jayde looked down at the body, then back up at me like she realized exactly what she did right in front of me. She took a couple tentative steps towards me and without thinking I took a step back. In and effort to not seem threatening, Jayde lowered her head submissively. A quiet whine sounded and while keeping her body low she tried to move towards me again.

This time I let her because I felt bad. It was hardly fair considering she just saved my life. I understood why she did what she did, but it was still jarring. Something about seeing someone commit an act that I could never imagine doing myself was visceral. Jayde had so many sides to her that I have gotten to know. She had walls, but she was kind and vulnerable. She was hard and damaged, but she was gentle too. This was a side I haven’t seen. If I wanted to move forward from this I would have to accept that part of her that scared me.

The white wolf reached me, head bowed in shame. Careful not to touch any of her wounds I reached out with a trembling hand and placed my uninjured palm to her forehead. Jayde leaned into my accepting hand, silently thanking me for it. I pulled my hand away and casted one more glance to the dead wolf.

“We should go.” I murmured. “I want to go.” I knew that both of us needed some sort of medical attention, but I couldn’t be in the presence of that body any longer.

Jayde huffed in agreement and disappeared around the corner into one of the rooms. A few minutes passed and she returned in her human form, fully clothed. She must have left her clothes in one of the rooms when she turned. I could see the blood from her injures was already staining her shirt, but she didn’t seem at all concerned about it. The bite on her neck was what I was most worried about and now I could see that the werewolf’s aim had been off. His teeth sank more into her shoulder that her neck; a deep gash ran across her collarbone.

“I’ll be fine.” Jayde said somberly when she noticed I was staring. I saw that the back of her hand was wiping at her mouth and I thought maybe she had a split lip or something, but shortly realized she was wiping his blood off her mouth and chin.

I had to force myself not to shy away when she came up to me again. At least I recognized her this time. She was bruised and bloodied, which was a sight that I begrudgingly grew familiar with. Jayde’s expression was a mix of deep concern and guilt as she studied me carefully. I could see the internal battle she struggled with, unsure of her boundaries right now.

“Are you okay?” She eventually asked, looking at me with pain in her eyes.

It was then that I fully remembered my pain, “I will be. I just want to leave.”

“Okay.” Jayde nodded, not really making eye contact with me. “Come on.”

Hours passed before she really spoke to me again. We carefully patched each other up with hardly any words between us besides the apologies Jayde gave when she pulled the chunk of glass out of my shoulder. She would barely even look at me. But four hours on the road, deep into nighttime, she finally said something.

“You’re scared of me now.” Her eyes didn’t leave the road in front of her.

I looked at her for a minute or so, trying to think of what to say. “I don’t know, Jay.”

“I would never hurt you.” Jayde said quietly.

“It’s not that.” I told her. I knew she would never hurt me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was so afraid of when I saw what she did, but I couldn’t help how it made me feel.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” Her tone made the question almost sound like a child had asked it.

I took a while to contemplate that. While Jayde’s ability to be brutal and violent disturbed me, I still couldn’t fully bring myself to think of her as a monster. The way she treated me, the people she cared about, was the furthest thing from monstrous. She was unconditional in her love and had one of the biggest hearts I have ever seen. And the situation we just went through wasn’t her fault at all. Jayde put her life on the line to protect me. The other werewolf didn’t give her a choice.

Taking a deep sigh to release all the bad energy I was feeling, I answered honestly, “No, I don’t. That werewolf that tried to kill us; he was the monster. You protected me. You saved me.”

I actually saw Jayde’s muscles relax in relief and felt even more bad. She didn’t deserve the cold shoulder I had been giving her. In not saying anything until now, I realized she was giving me space and time to process. I could only imagine how hard that must’ve been for her. Not knowing if I would accept her or fully reject her.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Jayde finally looked at me, eyes glinting with tears.

My eyes didn’t leave hers. “Don’t be. I understand why you have to do those things sometimes and I don’t blame you. I trust you. I trust that you do what you have to do.”

Jayde turned her attention back to the road and nodded. Even though she relaxed somewhat I could tell that she was still holding something back. Seeing her grip loosen and tighten on the steering wheel, I realized that usually by now she would have reached for me in some way. The fact that she hadn’t told me that she still thought her usual boundaries were closed off. They weren’t. I wanted her to feel comfortable with me again. After all, this was torture for me too.

Silently I reached my hand out, palm up in an invitation. Jayde glanced at it, then at me, unsure of what I wanted. I gave her a small nod. It’s okay. I want you to.

Hesitantly, like she thought I would change my mind, Jayde’s palm fit against mine. I laced our fingers together and smiled at the feeling. Finally, I was starting to feel better about the past day’s events. I could handle it. I could accept Jayde in her entirety. She was scared I couldn’t, but I did despite both of our fears. Isn’t that what love is?

#original writing #original characters #original story #werewolves #ocs #I started writing this TODAY #and finished it..... TODAY #how crazy is that??#it usually takes me 80 years to finish anything #anyway as always ignore the shitty grammar/punctuation #and just enjoy the badass werewolf fight and angsty gays #My writing #Jayde #Nadya #my ocs #Nadya pov

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jadesaber · 6 years ago

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SMG4: Hunger Glitch

”Hunger Glitch”

Part 3 of the ”Girls Weight Gain Saga”

Tari is owned by SMG4

In a appartment, sits a girl playing a game on her Nintendo Switch. She’s wearing a blue and white hoodie with markings so it looks like a bluejay bird, brown pants, white and blue socks, and brown slippers. She has a metal left arm, blue hair, purple eyes and pink cheeks.

Tari loves video games. She has been playing it for as long as she can remember. Which cause her to be social awkward and never made any friends. It wasn’t until she meet Mario, SMG4 and Meggy that she started to be more open. Now she’s apart of a gang of weird and crazy characters. She ows them alot.

Tari is right now playing online on Super Smash Each Other in The Ass Brothers Ultimate. She’s maining Yoshi. And it seems like she has won the match! She sighs and put down the controller. She has been playing for 8 hours.

”I need a drink” she said, she rose up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. She went to the fridge and opened it. She took out a glass of water.

”No... I want something with taste” she said to herself and put the glass ontop of the fridge, kinda badly as it looks like it’s about to fall down. Tari went in and picked up a Pepsi can.

”Perfect!” She closed the fridge door, but it causes the glass to start moving. Tari opened the can and drank a few sips. It was delicous. She had a hand on the fridge.

The glass fell down and split out the water, Tari saw the small wave of water, but she reacted to slow. She wasn’t fast enough to move her robot hand in time. The water hit her hand. Sparks started to come out as Tari started to do weird faces and body movements.

But she stoped and held her head. She felt dizzy. Then she heared a weird noise. She looked down and it came from her stomach, she was hungry. She looked at the clock and saw it was 14:50

”It’s time for lunch anyways” she said and opened her fridge again snd pick up a bag of hotdogs. She had later started a pot with boiling water and put down two hot dogs. But her stomach gurgled again.

”Maybe a little more wouldn’t hurt...” she said and... held all the hotdogs into the pot. A few minutes later, the hotdogs were ready. She eat one up. And another, and another. She ended up eating all of them. She patter her stomach while smiling. But suddenly, her stomach growled again? Tari looked concerned

”I’m still hungry?” She thought to herself confused. She went to the fridge and found a lasanga. She up it in the over for 40 minutes and eat a piece. Only to end up eating all of it. But her stomach was still growling. Tari was getting annoiyed by this and stood up, but she got alittle hurt by the table.

”That’s weird, I’m not that clo-” well what do you know, it’s her stomach who touched the table. Tari got frightend. He stomach had started to start a muffin top, like she had a deflated football in her stomach. But things got weirder. Like she was on auto-pilot, she went to the fridge and found a big microwave heatable turkey! She put it in the microwave and had it there for 20 minutes. While it was heating up. Tari looked at herself confused and scared.

”What’s... wrong with me?” Is all she could say. But she looked at her robot hand. She gasped in realization. She looked around for her phone and found it on the kitchen table. She grabed it and re-dailed the previous number.

Meanwhile, in Peach’s castle. SMG4, a Mario looking fellow with white overall snd Blue shirt and cap was on his Computer laughing at something, when his phone rang. He answered

”Hello?” Tari, on the other end shouted

”SMG4! I NEED YOUR HELP, NOW!”

”Whoa, slow down. What do you need help with?”

”I’ll explain later! Just get to my appartment, fast!” Tari hanged up before SMG4 could anwser. He shruged his soulders and went to his car.

Meanwhile with Tari, she was eating the turkey an rapid pase, not leaving any meat on the bone left, which effected her stomach again, it grew so it hanged over her waist, this also effected her boobs. Get got bigger! This made Tari terrified, but like her body was on autopilot, she grabed the phone and rang a pizza resturant.

Back to SMG4, he sighed in frustration.

”Stupid traffic!” He was stuck in a traffic. Proberly people who wanted to go home after a stressful day at work. Back to Tari’s appartment, someone was knocking the door. Tari opened the door, it was a pizza delivery man.

”Hey, did you order 40 pizzas?” He asked and 40 pizza boxes were outside her appartment, she moved like Sonic and had all the pizzas in her appartment snd closed the door

”What about pay?” He man asked. The door opend again and got a stack of dollors. Inside her appartment, her stomach was growling like crazy. She opened the pizza box and grabed two slices. She started to showed them into her mouth and as she chewed, she put in another one and another one.

”Hurry SMG4” she thoguht to herself worried ”I don’t know how much longer I can take”

30 Minutes Later...

SMG4 opened the appartment door.

”Hello? Tari?” He asked, but got no anwser ”Sorry it took do long, there was alot of traffic” He walked to the kitchen.

”So what was it you needed help wit- GOD LORD, MAN!” He shouted like Double D, to what he saw.

Many pizza boxes were opend and empited. Atleast 5 boxes were unopened. One was in the middle of being eaten by what seemed to like Tari. But she was Heavily different.

She seems to now weight 550 pounds! Her stomach was a big muffintop, her sides wide as heck, her legs big and squichy, her breasts had went from B-size to D-size. Butt humongus and her arms thicc and squichy, even her robot arm had gained that thiccness. She was the definition of a SSBBW woman. It was a miracle that her clotshs hadn’t been ripped apart. Tari looked at her friend, tears falling down on her checks that was full with pizza. She swallowed and thank god her chins wasn’t effected

”Help me...” she said, and then went back to her eating. SMG4 was dumbfolded by what he saw said

”Well, you can just stop!”

”I can’t!”

”Why not?”

”I think I have a glitch!” SMG4 raised an eyebrow. ”A Glitch? How?” He asked. Tari swallowed and pointed at her robot hand. And then went for another pizza slice.

”I spilled water on my arm. My arm is hooked up to my brain, when I spilled the water, it must have crashed my instincts. I’m incredibly hungry, and my body is literly on auto-pilot! I need you to stop me, before I actually start eating people!”

”... Yeah we don’t want that!” SMG4 looked around and made a glas of water.

”Maybe it will be fixed if we spill water a second time!” He threw the glas at Tari’s arm. Like the first time, Tari’s hand zaped as she made weird faces and poses, but then she jumped up in the air and crashed into the table. It broke, and SMG4 was send up flying and then landed on his ass.

”OW, my ass!” He scratched his ass and stood up. Tari opend her eyes and... grabed an entire pizza! And then she took a huge bite on it!! While she was chewing, she started to cry again.

”Ugh, no, you made it worse!” She cried, as she took another chunk of the pizza. SMG4 looked around fracticly, when he found a taser in his pocket!

”I know! I’ll zap you untill you shut down!”

”Wait-” Tari wasn’t able to say much as she was zaped by the taser. Her flapps wiggled up and down and everything went dark for Tari.

Text appeared that said ”Virus Fixed” Tari opened her eyes. She was sitting and leaning to a wall, she had her flest hand resting on her gigantiska belly, she looked to the left and saw her now thicc robot arm was hooked up to a Calle that lead to a laptop, SMG4 looked at her.

”I found this Virus caple and thought I could help you. Felling hungry?” SMG4 said and asked. Tari had her arms on her giant belly, it didn’t grow. Neither did she feel hungry.

”No... thanks” Tari said. She then put her arms at the wall, and slowly climed up. She then pushed and tried to get balance. She was able to do it. But she looked sad as she touched her belly again. She did not like this at all... SMG4 felt bad for her

”Come one” SMG4 said ”Let’s get to Peach Castle so we can discuss this with the others. Tari got terrified.

”WHAT? NO! I can’t go out like... this!?!” She pointed at herself. SMG4 scratched his mustache. Then he got an idea. Later, SMG4 was driving a car, that was draging a big open cart. Something was covered works giant purple blanket, inside was Tari. She was holding her rubber duckie, Archibald. Tari is looking depressed

”At least no one else is in my situation...” she thought to herself

To Be Continued...

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keto · 7 years ago

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Keto Authentic Indian Dishes I had a request over on the main Keto sub to provide some of my authentic Indian dishes that I find fit well into my keto lifestyle. Below are my go to recipes and I've included some tips and alternatives before the recipes as some additional info. If anyone has questions or thoughts please feel free to comment or PM! There are a lot of vegetarian dishes that can be keto friendly as well so if you're interested let me know and I can get those together too!I am going to preface this with the fact that I eat these dishes while fasting 16 hours so really this is my only meal in the day which means I have a little more room to play with in term of carbs. I also split these recipes over 5 days worth of meals which makes is keto friendly for me. I love my Indian food and for me these are incredibly filling and flavorful but not something you can eat as part of a three meals a day keto plan unless you're SUPER careful about your carbs for the rest of the day :-)All of the ingredients listed below can be found in an Indian grocers or online. Patel brothers is a good online grocer that we used to use before making the decision to just drive down to Boston once every 6 weeks or so. If you don't want to purchase ginger garlic paste you can of course make your own by buying ginger and garlic at the supermarket. I tried to call out what ingredients are NOT essential that would need to be purchased at an Indian grocers, such as tamarind paste. It definitely adds to a dish but if you don't want to bother getting it it's not going to be a huge deal. That said kasoori methi is absolutely essential to a good chicken tikka and it's cheap so if you can get to an Indian grocer I suggest you do.I usually have these over cooked cauliflower or cooked broccoli, I am usually too lazy to rice the cauliflower but if you want that rice feeling you can totally do riced cauliflower! I have actually found frozen riced cauli at my local Sams club!Variations on the below dishes;I like to add chopped bell pepper to my chicken tikka every once in a while, adds a little different flavor and bulk esp if I miscalculate how much chicken I've got left in the freezerthe same base recipe can be used to make paneer (vegetarian) versions of both the tikka and the korma. You can find paneer either fresh in blocks that you cut into squares or frozen already cubed in a lot of Indian grocers.Here come the recipes!Goan Pork Vindaloo2 lbs of boneless pork½ cup apple cider vinegar (you can use white if you want either works)2 tbsp ginger garlic paste1 pod brown cardamom (crushed open but left whole)1 tsp cumin seeds1tsp poppy seeds10 whole black peppercorns4 whole cloves1 tsp mustard seeds1 stick of cinnamon, halved1 tbsp tamarind paste (if you don't want to purchase this it's ok to leave out)½ tsp turmeric4 or 5 Thai green chiles (or 2-3 jalepenos)1/3 cup of your oil of choice2 large red onions sliced1 tsp steviaSalt to tasteToast cumin seeds, mustard seeds, poppy seeds, peppercorns and cloves in a dry pan until they start to pop. Toss pork, vinegar, salt, toasted spices and one tbsp. of ginger garlic paste in a glass bowl. Let sit at least an hour, overnight if you can. Heat oil in a saucepan over medium high heat, add chopped garlic, ginger garlic paste, brown cardamom pod and onion, cook until browned lightly – about 5-7 minutes. Stir in pork AND the marinade until the paste starts to brown, about another 10 minutes. Add salt to taste and 1 ¼ cups water (you can use a broth instead if you'd like) Reduce heat to medium-low and cook covered, stirring occasionally until pork is cooked through and tender. Depending on the heat of your stove this could be 45min – 1hour. It's next to impossible to overcook this.Chicken Tikka Masala2 lbs boneless skinless chicken thigh2 -3 tbsp lemon juice (fresh or otherwise doesn't matter, can use white or cider vinegar if you don't have any on hand, you just want the acidity)2 + 1 tbsp ginger garlic paste1 can tomato paste16 oz container of heavy cream2 large red onions diced4 tbsp Tandoori chicken masala1 cup of plan full fat yogurt2 tsp garam masala1 tsp turmeric1 tsp ground cumin1tsp ground coriander3 green Thai chiles (or a couple jalepenos – and to your taste)1 tsp whole mustard seeds1 tsp whole cumin seeds~ ¼ cup of Kasoori methi (can be found in Indian grocers, looks like dried clovers and smells like horse hay but ESSENTIAL to this dish)1/3 cup cooking oil of choiceChop chicken into bite size pieces. Mix yogurt, lemon juice/vinegar, 2tbsp ginger garlic paste and tandoori chicken masala together and add chicken. Marinate at least two hours, preferably overnight. In a skillet heat oil and add cumin seeds, mustard seeds and cook until they start to pop. Add diced onion, chopped chiles, ginger garlic paste and remaining spices (EXCEPT the kasoori methi, save this for last) and cook until onions are browned. Add can of tomato paste and about ¼ cup of water just to thin it out and let things marry properly. Cook for 5-10 minutes on medium low to remove the acidic taste of the tomato. Add chicken with the marinade to the base then enough heavy cream to create a good gravy. It doesn't need to be exact, make to your taste. Cook covered on low for 45 min to 1hr until chicken is cooked through and the gravy is nice and thick.Chicken Korma2 tbsp ginger garlic paste2 tsp garam masala1 tsp turmeric1 tsp coriander powder1 tsp cumin powder1 tsp cumin seeds2-3 Thai green chiles (or jalepenos – to your level of spice)½ cup almonds¼ cup cashews2 lbs boneless skinless chicken thighs¾ cup plain full fat yogurt2 tbsp tomato paste6 green cardamom pods (crushed open but left whole)¼ your cooking oil of choice4 tbsp butter2 large red onions diced1 can of coconut milk OR equivalent heavy cream with flaked coconutChop chicken into bite size chunks. Grind almonds and cashews until fine. Mix yogurt, 1 tbsp ginger garlic paste, tomato paste, ground almonds and cashews and cardamom pods in a glass bowl. Add chicken and cover, marinate 2 hours or overnight preferably. Heat oil and butter in a pan, add cumin seeds and cook until they pop. Add 1tbsp ginger garlic paste, onions and green chiles and cook until onions have browned slightly. Add the remaining spices and cook an additional 2-3 min on medium low heat. Add chicken and its marinade to the pan plus can of coconut milk or heavy cream & flaked coconut and cook on low covered until chicken is cooked through.Apologies in advance if there are any typos, I totally wrote these up while sitting on conference calls all day today :-P reach out with questions!EDIT: Formatting & left things out!

#keto #ketogenic #ketosis #healthy #lchf #low-carb #lowcarb #ketodiet #weightloss

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shipmvns · 8 years ago

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Going Down With The New Kid: The Great Yet Lonely Modern Art

kill me just kill me just fucking do it right no

Pairing: Lena/Kara Alex/Maggie Words: 4,159 Summary: Friday is here- the dance, the football game, and a handful of parties. Kara is exhausted, but she can still try. Meanwhile, Alex finds herself becoming a real member of the school, starting with a simple display of petty theft and underaged alcoholism. Spin the bottle is always interesting, or at least Alex thinks so- Kara, however, just thinks dancing is a lot harder than it looks, even with a teacher like Lena. Really, though, what's the difference between feeling big, and feeling small?

ALTERNATIVELY, READ IT ON AO3/LEAVE A COMMENT

It didn't rain on Krypton.

It was sterile and still and unforgiving under a glaring red sun, and it did not rain, not where things were so simple and clear cut and steady. Earth is messy.

And on Earth, it is raining.

Raining hard in the dark of the night, clamoring and loud and empty enough so that the night could just as easily swallow Kara and no one might ever notice. Black holes.

Blurred edges of the great yet lonely everything, cold air and flooding streets, all sliding down around Kara as she sits on the edge of a picnic table in a park she’s never been to before.

Pouring holy floods beat down upon Kara, and if she didn't know better she wouldn't pin such a lifelessness upon them; they feel purposeful, they feel angry and tragically alive. But that's sort of stupid. She knows that.

She just wishes it wasn't so loud- louder and louder, the chaotic noise goes on a rampant incline. It increases, harder and harder, until you'd think it couldn't go much further, think it'd calm back down again, but it doesn't. Golf ball sized chunks of ice join easily and it sounds frightening, almost.

The sky illuminates to purple and Kara flinches as the sky scars in a searing luminescence, then fades back down again. But next is worse.

Next comes thunder, rolling and long winded and ever so close, and it sounds like the world is splitting in two, like the sky is cracking apart in the crease the lightning left, such fire in the sky, and oh, is it ever so apocalyptic, this second world, second everything being destroyed in front of Kara at God knows when in the morning.

The storm feels like pain and repentance, like listlessness and guilt and needing to sleep. Like a shaking in Kara's core, a coldness in her lungs, and her eyelids are heavy and long for sleep that is always fitful and plagued by personal storms that end in a cold sweat and trying to keep quiet for the sake of the people who take her in so selflessly, then slipping out a window and ending up in somewhere so utterly foreign.

And it probably doesn’t mean that much, but even so, Kara feels petrified where she stands.

But, oh, better things must be coming- things that are so much easier said than done, things that sometimes leave a burning in Kara's throat late at night, the light things, the happy things, the 'just being a kid' things when she could be doing more.

She shakes her head and it aches. Better things, better things are coming. Weekends and parties and better things than being alone so early in the morning. But Kara needs some sleep, all she really needs is some sleep. And then it'll be all right.

"I'm not late," Kara waves her arm feebly as she steps into first period on the very last second of 7:59. Her hair is vaguely damp, which will hopefully appear to be from an early morning shower, and not an early morning traipse into the rain. What the hell does the word traipse mean, anyways? Whatever, Kara can save questions like that for English class.

Lena greets Kara with a smirk from her seat as Kara sets her things down, then sits beside her. "Have you considering leaving for school a few minutes earlier?" Lena suggests.

"Oh, hush," Kara laughs slightly as their teacher begins passing out busywork.

"If you're late tonight I'll be utterly offended," Lena teases.

"I won't be, I promise," Kara rests her head on her hands. "Oh, is it, like, formal? Like, is there a dress code? For the dance?" Kara mumbles.

Lena pauses, then smiles deviously. "Yes, there absolutely is." (This is a lie. Lena is a dirty liar. A dirty liar with absolutely no remorse.)

Hey, just because they're friends now doesn't mean Lena can't have any fun.

"Danvers." More of a statement than a greeting, but it comes with warm eyes and a smile, so Alex will absolutely take it.

"Hey."

"Ready for initiation tonight?" Maggie asks with a tilt of her head.

"Initiation?" Alex raises her eyebrows.

"You're not truly part of the school 'till you get trashy drunk at a football game that we're losing," Maggie shrugs. Alex sits down beside her, settling into her desk.

"The trashy drunk part, that I can do, but what if we don't lose?" Alex asks.

"Oh, we always lose," Maggie says firmly.

"Every time," says a boy behind them.

"It's a school tradition. We suck. I mean, we're just awful. It's ridiculous. We always lose. So you take care of the drunk part, and the football players will do the rest for you," Maggie promises.

"So alcoholism is required to be part of this school?" Alex quirks an eyebrow. "What about, like, the Mormons? The Amish?"

"Oh my God, Danvers, are you drunk right now? Oh my God. 'The Amish.' Coming to English class drunk. That won't get you extra credit, Alex," Maggie starts to laugh.

"Knowing our teacher, I feel like it absolutely would," Alex says. "Stop making fun of the Amish, though, that's rude," Alex scolds.

"Dude. First of all, there are definitely no Amish kids who go here. I feel like that just makes you sort of stupid. Second, I'm 82% sure Amish people drink. That's religious, right? Religious people love to get wasted, it's why there's the whole Jesus-wine thing, and, anyways, don't kids our age do to the thing? Like in reality TV? Where they live like 'the English?' So if Amish kids were in our grade, they'd be drunk. Always, probably," Maggie says thoughtfully.

"Drunk always. That should be your school motto," Alex offers.

"Or your English class motto."

"Oh, shut up."

"Hey, you're the new kid!" Maggie announces as if it's some kind of revelation, and Alex laughs lightly.

"Uh, yeah, did you forget? Maybe I'm not the drunk one, after all."

"You're the new kid, and that means you have to come with me for the supply run for Under The Bleachers activities," Maggie explains. "It's your responsibility. Also part of initiation."

"Supply run?"

"Yeah, come with me," Maggie grabs her wrist without further explanation, and then calls out to the English teacher, "we're going to Target!"

"Find your spirit there, my dears," the English teacher croons, flitting around her incense.

"This... this is a weird school," Alex shakes her head.

Maggie's car is very small and looks like it could fall apart at any moment, but it smells like cinnamon and leather, so Alex can't really complain too much. She slips into the passenger seat and Maggie sits next to her, turning on the radio, even though the speakers are staticy and hard to hear.

"So, why are we going to Target during English class?"

"It's my unofficial job to provide the alcohol for football games to everyone who hangs under the bleachers. It's a team job, though, so I always take the new kid," Maggie explains.

"What, do you have a fake ID or something?" Alex asks.

"Nah, mostly it's just petty theft," Maggie shrugs.

"That is... so many kinds of illegal," Alex shakes her head.

"It's okay, I'm planning on being a cop when I'm older to make up for it, so it's pretty much even," Maggie shrugs. "You should consider being a cop, too, now that you're about to become my accomplice. Plus, you have the body for it," She points out.

Alex clears her throat, bites her lip. "Ha. You know, I don't really think that's how the law works." She tries to ignore the blush creeping onto her face as they pull into the parking lot of the Target.

"Hey, Kara," Alex says as her sister meets her outside the side door of the school for the walk home. "Don't steal things from Target when you're a junior, okay?"

"I... what?" Kara blinks at Alex vacantly.

"Long story. Heed my advice. Technically, we didn't get caught, but I wouldn't really advise it," Alex shrugs as the girls begin walking home.

"Uh. Okay. Hey, Alex, can I borrow one of your dresses? I'm going to the dance, and I guess it's supposed to be formal," Kara shoves her glasses up her nose.

"Sure. You're going to the dance?" Alex raises an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. With Lena. She said I shouldn't miss it," Kara explains.

"With Lena, huh? So no shovel talk necessary, then, I guess?" Alex laughs.

"Guess not," Kara mumbles.

"..Hey, Kara, are you okay?" Alex raises an eyebrow, slows her pace a little.

"What? Why?" Kara asks.

"You just seem... I don't know. Weird," Alex shrugs.

"That's mean," Kara says with a half smile.

"Seriously."

"I'll be fine, Alex," Kara shakes her head. "I've just got a lot on my mind." At least that's truthful.

Under a twilight sky, Maggie gives three sharp knocks to door of Alex's house.

Without more than a few seconds, the door is opened by a blonde woman. "Hi, sweetie. Which one are you here for?"

"Uh, Alex Danvers?" Maggie says.

"Come on in, she'll be down with her sister in just a minute. You're just in time for dinner."

"Great," Maggie says with an easy smile, despite the fact that she really wasn't expecting to be part of a family dinner- she was really just here to pick up Alex.

Alex's house is warm and homey, full of a soft orange glow. Alex comes down the steps as Maggie is being shown to the dining table. "Hey, mom, I- Maggie. Hi," Alex is slightly taken aback.

"Hey, Danvers, your mom invited me to stay for dinner," Maggie gives her a smirk as Eliza goes into the kitchen to finish up.

"Oh, really, she did?" Alex laughs, taking a seat next to Maggie.

"Of course I did, she's your friend," Eliza says very matter-of-factly. "Where's your sister, Alex?"

"She said she'll be down in a few minutes," Alex shrugs.

Eliza puts the food out and then sits down at the other end of the table.

It's nice, dinner with Alex's mom. Their house is homey and the food is amazing. Her mom is nice and talkative.

"So, are you girls going to the football game?" Eliza asks.

"Yeah, they're always great, so I insisted that Alex here come with me," Maggie says.

"Oh, well that was nice of you, dear," Eliza smiles. "It's so nice to see Alex make some friends, when she was a little girl, she didn't have many friends, s-"

"Thanksfordinnermomwereallyneedtogobye," by the time Alex has finished her sentence, she's already dragged Maggie out of the house to the car by the sleeve of her shirt.

"Aw, but I just started eating," Maggie pouts, sliding into the driver's seat.

"You can eat when we get there," Alex says gruffly.

"Poor, young, friendless Alex," Maggie sighs mockingly.

Alex throws a quarter at her.

"Okay, okay, I'm done!" Maggie laughs. "I'm finished."

"Just drive, Sawyer."

Taking the day of the week into consideration, the weight on Kara's chest should be significantly lighter. Whatever; she figures things will be pretty good when Lena comes to get her. She knows that Alex has already left with her friend, she heard the car, but that's sort of weird, since the game isn't until after the dance, and even the dance isn't starting until fifteen minutes from now.

Kara looks at herself in her mirror, and she feels small, standing there in her sister's dress in her room, which growing a pale blue.

A knock at the door tells Kara her ride is waiting, so she makes her way down the stairs to see Eliza greeting Lena. "Hey! You're here," Kara says, approaching Lena.

"Yeah," Lena smiles.

"You girls have fun, now," Eliza says as Kara and Lena exit the house and wave.

"You look," Lena looks Kara up and down, "Uh. Wow."

"Thanks. I think," Kara clears her throat as the girls start walking towards the school. Not the most glamorous way to show up to a dance, but it works.

"I didn't even know this place existed," Alex shrugs, leaning back in her booth and looking out to the sky. The sun hasn't totally fallen yet, but in the east, beginnings of shining stars are visible.

"Best food in our town. Which, you know, is saying very little. Still, though. A good place to kill time for an hour before the game," Maggie points out.

Alex almost asks Maggie why she's hanging out with her, when Maggie has a whole group of very loud friends probably readily available somewhere else. Instead, she just takes a sip of her shake, letting fluorescent light wash over her.

"Your mom seems nice," Maggie says, and it's not without a slight smirk, but it's still fairly sincere.

"Yeah, she's pretty nice," Alex shrugs.

"Wait until she finds out her kid stole from a Target," Maggie laughs, and her dimples show brilliantly.

"You're pretty when you smile," Alex mumbles. Immediately after, she looks away. But still, she can see, Maggie smiles.

Lena is not a bad person, and she thinks this is quite proven by the fact that, despite having messed with Kara about the less-than-classy school event being formal, she did not make Kara brave the otherness of being out of place entirely alone. Both girls are entering the gym wearing dresses that are far too fancy for the occasion.

"You said it was formal!" Kara swats at Lena.

"Ah, well," Lena laughs easily in the humid gym air. Some kind of soft song is playing at a low quality in the background, and the lights are low and reddish, casting shadows across the room. Lena takes Kara's hand and twirls her easily. "Welcome to a high school dance. It's terrible, and we should definitely leave within twenty minutes or less."

"Awh, but I wanna dance," Kara gives Lena her widest, most pleading eyes and an innocent smile.

"I don't really know how to dance," Lena says. (This is a lie; what rich girl doesn't know how to ballroom dance?)

"Aww," Kara moans with a frown that is nearly unbearable. It takes literally three seconds of this for Lena to break completely.

"God, fine," Lena sighs. Kara claps.

"Show me how?"

"Okay," Lena says. "Put your hands like this- yeah, right there. Keep them there, unless I go to spin you or something like that. And I'll put my hands here. Okay? And now we kind of- we kind of go like this, like, we go in this shape, okay? Like sort of a square. Sort of go to the music, like, sway. Keep the beat, right. Good. And now- now I'll spin you, okay?"

Lena twirls Kara, and her dress twirls with her, leaving her giggling when she steadies.

"Okay. Good. Fall back in with the beat, now, right- okay. Good. You're doing really good, Kara," Lena laughs brightly. For a few moments, it is easy, and it is only them.

The football game is loud and full of bright, artificial light that hurts Alex's eyes. Maggie leads her under the bleachers, where there's a group of stoner-type looking teenagers hanging out and laughing and yelling like it's some kind of exclusive party. "Everybody, me and Danvers are here with the beer," Maggie waves an arm in the air.

Kids cheer all around as they drag the cooler of alcohol over. It takes less than 37 seconds for someone to yell 'chug' to no one in particular.

"Interesting enough, huh?" Maggie smiles.

"Guess so," Alex says with a laugh.

Someone's set up a radio, and dizzy summer music is humming around them. Alex takes a seat, and Maggie follows suit, sipping on a beer. They sit quietly, cheers overhead and fuzzy music filling up all the blank spaces, but both girls hands are supporting them, and just slightly, they're touching. Alex tries not to wonder if this is on purpose.

It takes maybe another thirty minutes for someone to yell, "spin the bottle!" Everybody, by now, is slightly lost to the world, though no one's quite wasted yet, either. Without a second thought, Maggie is entering into the circle of kids, tight grip on Alex's wrist, and the game commences. A boy next to Maggie spins first, and Alex pays very little attention.

Next, though, it's Maggie's turn. She spins. It lands on a boy in a black hoodie. Alex takes a sip of beer. Maggie makes a face. "I really need more friends who are chicks," she shakes her head, steps forward, and lets the boy kiss her. He grins. She doesn't. (Neither does Alex. She just feels a vague twist in her stomach.)

Under the light of the moon, feeling in somewhat high spirits, if a little hollow inside, Kara walks side by side with Lena, on their way to whichever party Lena deems best.

"You dance really well," Kara says quietly.

"Got lessons when I was little," Lena shrugs. Kara nods. "Hey, we're here," Lena points to a house down the block with lights and loud music all spilling out the windows.

"I can smell the alcohol from here," Kara mutters.

"No kidding," Lena says as they make their way to the house. It's all open doors, so the two walk in easily. "Do you want a drink, though?" She casts her eye over at the younger girl. Kara shakes her head politely. "Okay, I'll be right back, then," Lena tells her. Kara puts her back against the wall as she is left alone within the loud noise. She plants her feet firmly in the carpeting, as if not to be swallowed whole. Things like this, they always feel very isolating, at least if you're by yourself.

Luckily, though, Lena returns quickly, red cup in hand. "This... this is a party?" Kara asks.

"Pretty much. It's more fun if you're drunk," Lena shrugs. "Or into this sort of thing."

"It's interesting," Kara says, sitting down on a wide leather couch. She thinks she sinks down about a foot when she sits down. Lena sits down beside her, taking a sip from her cup.

"What's in there?" Kara quirks an eyebrow.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it's strong, and sort of gross," Lena squints down at the contents of the cup, then shrugs and takes another long sip.

"It's like... being inside a piece of modern art, or something," Kara mumbles, looking around at all of the sharp edges and faded colors that go fuzzy if she doesn't focus hard enough. It's smokey and pale, the whole room, and messy music is clashing with the quiet sound of the night and the fireflies hovering near the grass despite it being the wrong season entirely for that.

"Modern art kind of sucks," Lena mumbles, finishing off her cup of Something Awful.

"Not always," Kara shrugs, and wonders if she's telling the truth.

"I'm getting another drink, want one?" Lena offers. Kara politely declines once more and watches Lena retreat into the next room, letting everything go fuzzy and red and faraway for a moment.

Thirty spins. It takes thirty spins of the beer bottle in the middle of the circle to place Maggie and Alex together. When it does, Maggie rubs her hands together. "Alright, finally something I can get behind," she laughs, standing up. Alex follows suit with heat flooding her body. Her limbs betray her slightly, she feels wavering, she feels unsteady.

Maggie smiles and tugs at Alex's jacket, compromising for the awfully noticeable height difference.

When the two girls kiss, a lot of things happen for Alex- a lot of things that Alex will not disclose, under any circumstances, in fact, because she's always hated young adult books and their depictions of kissing, so she's definitely not going to say that, when they kiss, it's sparkly and warm and bright, and she especially won't think about how fucking soft Maggie's lips are, because that's just fucking ridiculous, and she's not even going to acknowledge Maggie's hands on her hips in the first place, to be quite frank.

When Maggie pulls away, Alex's body screams in petulant reluctance, but her face stays stone. Boys are wolf whistling- Alex hardly notices. Maggie's wearing a smile on her lips. "Well, guys, this was fun," She says once someone else grabs the bottle, "but I think me and my ride along over here are gonna jet before the guards come and kick us all out. Seeya."

Alex follows out into the open night air wordlessly. The make it to Maggie's car, but Maggie doesn't even pull her keys out of her pocket. Instead, she says, "that was fun. Up for a round two, Danvers?"

And how can a drunk teenager decline an offer like that, in a great and wide world lacking consequence?

Within two hours, Lena is kind of entirely wasted, and it's pretty funny, besides the fact that it kind of makes Kara feel like she's on a different level of mind, which is an awfully lonely place to be. And, don't get her wrong, this is all perfectly entertaining- it's just... weird.

"Kara," Lena slurs, "you're pretty." She runs a clumsy hand through Kara's blond curls.

Kara laughs. "Thanks, Lena."

"You look like... a Disney princess," Lena mumbles, shaking her head. "I mean, everyone thought you were gonna be scary.... but you're just a ninth grade princess! Ha."

"I can be scary," Kara mumbles as Lena rests her head in Kara's lap. Kara threads her fingers through Lena's hair.

"I don't believe you," Lena giggles.

"Yeah, well, you're drunk," Kara says, a quick half-smile passing her lips.

"Why aren't you drunk?" Lena challenges. "Y'look like you could use it."

Kara laughs huskily. "Hey, did your hand ever get better? The burnt one?" Kara looks down at the older girl, who's occupied gazing at the ceiling fan currently.

"Lil' bit," Lena sighs. "Hey, it's, like, one in the morning," Lena laughs as if this is particularly funny- it's not.

"I should be home now," Kara sinks down further into the couch.

"Me. Too." Lena laughs. "But! I think I'm gonna crash here instead."

"Maybe I will, too," Kara considers.

"Don't. Your mom- she's sooo nice, Kara. Go and be home. Don't worry her," Lena orders with intimidating emerald eyes and a soft giggle.

"You could come with me, you know," Kara offers.

"Nah. Who knows what'd we'd do, drunk and alone together?" Lena winks seductively.

"Um." Kara blinks.

"Go home, Kara," Lena orders sternly. "Now! Run. Unless you're going to trip."

"Uh. Okay," Kara mutters tiredly, shaking her head. Lena gets off of her, and Kara leaves, hearing the pounding music fade into dull thumping as she heads towards home.

When Alex makes it home, it's two in the morning. Her head is thick and dizzy but her face is flushed. Maggie waves as she turns the corner (on foot- she may be a thief, but she's no drunk driver) of Alex's block, heading for home.

The sky feels wonderfully high above her, and the world feels light and welcoming. It is the most ideal version of reality, this moment right now, and so despite the cold air, Alex takes a moment to crane her head back and look at the sky, let it wash over her.

Most miraculous of all, tonight, though? Her school’s team won. Maggie was thrilled. (“We won! We never win! It’s a fucking miracle, Danvers! You know what? I think you might just be good luck, Alex.”)

Alex giggles, leaning against the back of her door for a second.

Then, she lets herself in, thanking God himself that Eliza is the worlds most heavy sleeper.

Alex stumbles up the stairs in a drunken stupor, lazy smiles on her face. She takes a left and makes her way into the room, falling onto her bed, clothes on and all. Except there's a body next to her, one that's very much alive. Thankfully. Probably for the best.

"Kara?" Alex whispers.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Is this, uh.. is this my room, or yours?" Alex asks.

"I'm pretty sure it's mine, Alex," Kara mumbles.

"Oh. Sorry. Could I stay, tonight, though?" She asks. Or maybe it's more like an offer.

"..Yeah, please stay," Kara says, and Alex can feel her nod.

"When did you get home?"

"Like an hour ago?" Kara says.

"And you're still awake?"

"Yeah."

"Well, did you have a good time?" Alex mumbles tiredly.

"I think. Kinda. You?"

"The best," Alex laughs.

"I'm glad," Kara says lightly.

"Yeah. Go to sleep now, little sister," Alex slurs, wrapping a protective arm around Kara.

Kara wholeheartedly appreciates this. At least she’s not alone so early in the morning.

#supergirl #supercorp #sanvers #kara danvers #lena luthor #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #supercorp fanfiction #sanvers fanfiction #gray writes

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alpha-centari27 · 8 years ago

Text

Fanfic: “Stuck”

:wave: I occasionally write fanfiction and sometimes I even finish my project and release it for people to read.

Fandom: Undertale

Title: “Stuck“

Characters: “Hope“ / “Hopeless“ and “Wings“ mostly.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Some swearing and mention of self harm.

Summary: This is inspired by the metal pipe discourse on hopxlcss’s blog a few months back.

Pipe discourse can be found: here, here, here, here, here and here.

Obligatory Disclaimer: Undertale is the property of Toby Fox.

“Hope” / “Hopeless” belongs to @hopxlcss and Wings belongs to Ziz @unseenbutnotgone and @synensis .

Notes: Thoughts are in bold to distinguish them from dialogue and description.

Wings = Wings and because Hope does not like his fragment name I refer to him as Gaster mostly. I think Wings calls him by his fragment name once.

If you don’t have anything nice to say or at least anything constructive don’t say anything at all.

Fanfic is hidden behind cut.

Reading Start!

How did he let this happen? Of all the compromising and undignified predicaments to be caught up in, having one's tongue stuck to a frozen metal pipe in a place where such a thing should not exist had to be the most embarrassing experience of his entire existence--dead or alive. "HEH..." He breathes. The ordeal is not over. He is not free of his imprisonment, yet. He chides himself on letting his thoughts turn to self pity. IT DOES NOT MATTER. WHAT MATTERS IS GETTING UNSTUCK. But what more is there to try? Teleportation: failure. De-materializing his tongue: failure. Breaking the pole just above and below the points where his tongue is stuck would allow him to move freely, but create a new problem of having an unsupported chunk of metal stuck to his tongue.

Using his magical attacks poses the same problem with some additional risks. His blasters were not exactly surgical instruments designed for precision cutting. And despite his formidable size and strength, physical momentum alone does not seem to be enough to peel his tongue from the pipe. From what his lone eye allows him to see the point at which his tongue first makes contact with the pipe is very close to his jaw. If he had more length to work with he could generate more force. Then a thought occurred to him. If by some means he could warm his tongue or the surface of the metal, surely he could be freed--but how!?

HMMM... THERE MUST BE A SOLUTION. WHAT HAVE I NOT THOUGHT OF? THERE HAS TO BE A WAY. I HAVE MY MAGIC AND MY BODY TO WORK WITH-- His thought processes came to a screeching halt. He could feel it. He was no longer alone and there was more than one. "Oh my god!" "Is that him?" "Yeah, it's him alright. Big. Bad. And ugly." "He's stuck to a metal pipe!" Someone chuckled. It sounded like the voices were to his right, his blind side. Gaster muttered a curse. Just what he needed spectators to his humiliation.

HOW DID THEY FIND ME? NEVER MIND. Their presence was an unneeded distraction, drowning out his ability to think clearly. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT!?" More than anything he wanted to turn his head to properly threaten them, but he could only rotate his head a few degrees before reaching a dead stop. "We're looking at you of course." "Is this a trick? Is he really stuck?" "Do you really want to find out? Even now he kinda scares me." "Yeah, I think so." "We could poke him with a bone from a safe distance." "Serves him right, the bastard." "ALL OF YOU CAN GO FUCK OFF!" He roared. "No need to be rude." "Maybe you should being nicer to us seeing as you're stuck. We could help you, ya know. Not that you deserve it."

"BY THE NON-EXISTENT GODS..." Their senseless chatter and laughter was beginning to give him a headache. "Guys maybe we should stop." "Do what you want. I got an idea." A flash of light. First one, then three, then five in quick succession and they kept on coming. "ARE YOU TAKING MY PICTURE!?" He asked in disbelief. Although he could not directly see the flashing what he saw out of the corner of his eye and reflecting off the metal pipe was more than enough. A perfectly angled flash met his gaze dead on, blinding him. "STOP!" He closed his eye and yet he could see spots and he could still see the flashing though it was now dimmed. He covered his eye with the crook of his elbow which dimmed the flashing more. "HOW MANY DAMN PICTURES DO YOU NEED!? IS THIS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU!? YOU SADISTIC FUCKS! LEAVE! LEAVE ME BE!" The brightness of the flashing was started to increase again. Were they moving closer? THAT DOES IT. He turns to face his tormentors, or at least as much as his situation allows him to. His eye twitches from the flashing, but he does not turn away. "I WILL KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!" He bellowed. In an instant he materialized four Gaster Blasters and laid waste to the area. A barrage of consecutive blasts shook the level plain. He heard a collective gasp and then everything went silent. The blasters continued to fire until he was satisfied and willed them away.

It had been a while since circumstances transpired to make him this angry. He needed to rest and catch his breathe. He learned his weight against the pole, it was better than nothing. Sufficiently recovered and alone at last with his thoughts he could think uninterrupted and undisturbed. "FUCK." His teeth painfully pinched his tongue. Now that he thought of it, it was amazing that his tongue did not profusely bleed every time he summoned it. Maybe it did happen, but he rarely noticed it because the cuts were always clean because of the sharpness of his triangular teeth. PINCH? CUT? THAT'S IT... AS UNPLEASANT AS IT SOUNDS I COULD BITE MY TONGUE OFF. IF I DO THIS RIGHT IT SHOULD BE QUICK. PAINLESS? AT FIRST THE PAIN WILL NOT BE IMMEDIATE. IN THE SECONDS AND MINUTES FOLLOWING IT WILL PROBABLY BE EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL. HEH... NOTHING THAT SOME ALCOHOL CANNOT FIX. IT'S WORTH A SHOT. I DO NOT HAVE ANY OTHER OPTIONS TO WORK WITH CURRENTLY. ON THE COUNT OF THREE... ONE... TWO... "OH DEAR." A voice called.

I THOUGHT I TOLD THEM TO GO FUCK OFF. "WHO'S THERE?" "OH, IT'S ONLY ME." It was not a Sans or Papyrus who stepped into his line of sight, but another Gaster who went by the fragment name: "Wings." "YOU LOOK A LITTLE STUCK MY FRIEND." He said, pleasantly. "OBVIOUSLY. AND I AM NO--" He stopped. Wings was holding something most peculiar and out of place. "WHAT IS THAT?" He motioned with his hand pointing at the ceramic cup. The shorter skeleton shrugged, a small smile tugging at the edges of his face. "I THINK A WARM CUP OF TEA CAN REMEDY THE SITUATION." "TEA?" "I DO NOT MEAN FOR YOU TO DRINK THIS, BUT TO APPLY IT TO YOUR TONGUE. I THINK THIS SHOULD DO THE TRICK, UNLESS YOU ARE STUCK HERE BY MEANS OF A CHEMICAL ADHESIVE, OR SOME OTHER METHOD--" "BY ALL MY OBSERVATIONS THE PIPE IS INDEED FROZEN." "HEHE...IT'S FUNNY I JUST HAPPENED TO BE MAKING SOME TEA WHEN--" "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR EXPLANATION. IF YOUR INTENT IS TO FREE ME THEN DO IT." "I AM GOING TO STEP CLOSER NOW, IF THAT IS OK WITH YOU." "AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT TOUCH ME." Wings gave a curt nod and slowly advanced. True to his word he did not lay a hand on him. He merely let his fingers trail over the surface of the pipe. "THE PIPE IS DEFINITELY FROZEN. THIS SHOULD WORK."

"ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDING. FROZEN PIPE IS VERIFIED TO BE FROZEN. GIVE ME THAT!" Gaster reached for the ceramic cup with the intent of ripping it away from Wings. His hand missed the mark and the cup fell, spilling it's contents. Wings carefully bent down to pick up the still intact cup. "HUH... YOU STARTLED ME. I-I AM A-AFRAID A PUDDLE OF TEA ON THE GROUND IS OF NO USE TO EITHER OF U-US." "NO SHIT. MY HEAD...FEELS LIKE IT IS GOING TO SPLIT OPEN." Gaster expected Wings to say something, but when he looked around he was no where in sight. "HE'S GONE." He heavily sighed. As much as he wanted to enjoy the freedom of movement again having two sources of pain to cope with was more than he felt capable of handling at the moment. The headache that had blossomed into a migraine was making him feel light headed and like he would pass out. He just had to grit his teeth and bare it. It would pass sooner or later. It may take be a while, but his pain would end and he could move forward with what needed to be done. "HOPE? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" The voice startled him, prompting Gaster to stand up straighter and glance around. It was Wings, he had returned. "THAT IS NOT MY--WHATEVER." He huffed. "I'M FINE." HE CAME BACK? WHY? "ANOTHER CUP OF TEA?" Wings meekly smiled. "I AM AFRAID I LET THE WATER GET TOO HOT. WE WILL NEED TO WAIT AND LET IT COOL. I DO NOT EXPECT YOU WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF I BURNED YOUR TONGUE. IF I MAY ASK HOW DID YOU--" "NO, YOU MAY NOT." "OK. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?" "MY HEAD IS KILLING ME. STOP TALKING, OR I WILL GO BACK TO MY OTHER PLAN AND BITE MY TONGUE OFF." "DON'T DO THAT, PLEASE. I WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO HURT YOURSELF."

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE? AND IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVE A LOT OF OTHER CHOICES TO CHOOSE FROM." "HMMM... YOUR HANDS ARE FREE. AND IF YOU HAVE YOUR PHONE ON YOU, YOU COULD HAVE MADE A POST ON UNDERNET ASKING FOR HELP." "HEH... I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THEY FOUND ME, BUT A GROUP OF MISCREANTS CAME BY TO LAUGH AT AND TAKE PICTURES OF MY HUMILIATION. WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING SOMEHOW I AM FOUND AND SUBJECTED TO IDIOT'S STUPIDITY AND JUDGEMENT. YOU HONESTLY THINK IF I ASKED THAT SOMEONE WOULD COME TO MY AID?" "YES. I KNOW I WOULD. I AM HERE. THE ONLY REASON I LEFT WAS TO GET MORE WARM WATER. I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING THAN JUST LEAVING LIKE I DID." "IT DOESN'T MATTER." Wings chuckled.

"YOU'RE RIGHT. BECAUSE WHAT MATTERS IS THAT I AM HERE NOW." Wings dipped a finger into the ceramic cup. "AH, I THINK THE WATER HAS COOLED ENOUGH. NOT TOO HOT AND NOT TOO COLD." Taking carefully measured steps Wings moved closer to his position. "THIS WILL ALL BE OVER IN A SECOND." Wings lifted and tilted the cup pouring a small amount of water onto the top of Gaster's tongue. He repeated the process two more times until the cup was emptied. Effortlessly Gaster was able to gradually pull his tongue away from the pipe. Having his tongue back in his mouth felt, odd, but not unexpected. The sensation would pass and be forgotten about in time. "ARE YOU EXPECTING ME TO SAY SOMETHING?" "WELL, A THANK YOU, WOULD BE THE POLITE THING TO SAY, BUT I AM NOT EXPECTING YOU TO SAY IT. WE SHOULD HELP EACH OTHER BECAUSE IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO, NOT BECAUSE WE ARE GETTING SOMETHING IN RETURN." "HEH..." It was more than tempting to reply with a 'FUCK YOU' yet he chose not to. Without saying a word he walked away and when he felt ready teleported to his part of the void--where he belonged.

888888888888888888888888 When Hope teleported, Wings examined the pipe more closely. "HMMM... WHO PUT THIS HERE?" He muttered to himself, once again running a hand along the length of the pipe. "AND WHY DID YOU GET STUCK? SOME SORT OF PRANK PERHAPS? MAYBE ONE OF THESE DAYS WE CAN SIT DOWN AND TALK OPENLY WITHOUT THE DEFENSIVE POSTURING. I WONDER WHAT NESS MUST THINK OF ALL THIS?" With that final thought Wings teleported back to his home in the void. 888888888888888888888888 The metal pipe in the void remained standing. A curious oddity in a strange landscape.

A long figure emerged out of the perpetual darkness. He could not stop himself from laughing when staring at the metal pipe. It was a clever plan and it worked. He is kind, but he will fight back to defend himself. "I CAN FIGHT YOU--WITHOUT ACTUALLY FIGHTING YOU. LET THAT BE A LESSON TO YOU." Through the use of his magic Kindness made the pipe disappear. 88888888888888888888888

Writer Notes:

1) Not being familiar with all version of Sans, Papyrus and Gaster I decided it would be a lot less hassle to leave the identities of Hope’s tormentors ambiguous.

2) If people don’t get the ending. I like to think that Hope and Kindness got into some sort of argument that escalated into a physical fight and binding Hope to the pipe was Ness’s idea of a non-violent solution. I also like to think that Ness may have been the one to anonymously tip of Wings about Hope’s plight. But it’s also possible a guilt ridden Sans, Papyrus or Gaster told Wings about what they saw. As to how the “miscreants“ found Hope in the first place? Maybe that was also Kindness’s doing?

3) I probably could have put in some more descriptive details in places, but I wanted to try to keep things simple. And unless the details are pivotal to the plot, character interaction, etc why put them in? I think the dialogue back and forth between Wings and Hope speaks for itself.

4) I don’t really know what the rules are concerning void physics and magic. You could argue that Hope ought to be able to unsummon his tongue--problem solved, but the fact that it is in contact with something else complicates this, or at least in my opinion. And if Hope did bite off his tongue... I am unsure if the damage done would be permanent, if his tongue could be healed and regenerate on it’s own or if he could outright generate a new, undamaged one.

Hope you enjoyed this for what it was! I have a fuck ass long Wings x Void fanfic that has been sitting in my gmail account as a draft for almost a year that I would eventually like to finish. And I have a few other shorter pieces, around the length of this one that I have started, but am having a hard time finishing.

#undertale #hopxlcss #wings #unseenbutnotgone #grxxnheart #skeledxd

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