#they also have VERY sharp claws and WILL attempt to climb you <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[tangledinink]

Holy fuck their little paw pads are soooo cute!!!!!

BEANS!!!!!

[super-ion]

Such Lovely Fur

Chapter 1

[Chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4]

The wind howls horribly as I stagger through the drifts of snow. It tears at my cloak and dress, digging icy fingers down to my bones. My teeth are chattering and I can barely feel my hands as I tug the cloak tight around my shoulders.

I find myself wondering for probably the thousandth time if this whole endeavor is a fool's errand. Many men have attempted this very mission, most have never returned.

What hope does someone like me possibly have?

I pause beneath a rocky outcropping, desperately trying to rub feeling back into my numb hands when I hear the voice. It comes in the form of a song in a language I do not recognize, piercing through the storm unnaturally (though there is hardly anything natural about this storm in the first place).

Were I in my right mind, I would ignore it, but I am cold and delirious from exhaustion. Instead I stagger forward blindly through the wind driven snow, drawn inexorably towards the haunting voice.

What I find is a cage, hanging from a sorry looking tree and woven from rough hewn strips of wood and covered with glowing symbols. Within sits the hunched figure of the singer. Her back is to me, so all I can see is a cloak that appears to be covered in dusky feathers.

“Hello?”

She stops singing and whirls to grip the bars. What I previously mistook for a feathered cloak is in fact a pair of wings in place of her arms, three fingers with wicked looking claws emerging halfway down their length. Curling horns and pointed ears sprout from beneath the raven dark tresses of her hair, framing a face with pale mottled gray skin and a sort of flattened nose and tilted eyes like a cat’s. The eyes themselves… they are jet black with glowing flecks like sparks dancing within.

She… I don't even know if this is a she… regards me hungrily with those eyes.

“Hey!” she says desperately. “Get me out of here and I'll grant you your heart's desire!”

Her husky voice snaps me out of my shock and I stagger back.

“Demon!” I gasp.

Her face falls and she makes a sulky pout at me.

“Please?” she asks. “Judging from the spells inscribed on this cage, there are sorcerers about, no doubt intending to carve out my hearts and drink my blood. I would really rather not be around when they return.”

Still in shock at the sight of her, I stumble backward, turn to leave and…

Her words are finally catching up with me.

She could help me save my betrothed.

“You… you can grant my heart's desire?”

She blinks in surprise and her ears twitch. She crouches in the cage, beckoning me closer. I take a few cautious steps forward.

“That might have been a slight exaggeration on my part,” she confesses. “But it is within my power to grant you boons to aid you in achieving such a heart's desire.”

“What sort of boons?” I ask, trying and failing to hide my shivering.

She makes a pointed glance at my cloak, fine dress and thin shoes, all of which are wholly unsuited for the ice and snow whirling around us.

“Well, that depends on what you need,” she replies. “If, as I suspect, you intend to brave this cursed storm and climb the mountain, it is within my power to grant you such tools to assist in such an endeavor.”

I should say no. I should not deal with demons, caged or no.

I also should not be out here in the elements attempting something so foolish. I am far outside of my realm of experience. I will surely freeze to death or worse before getting anywhere close to the top of the mountain.

“How many boons?” I demand.

A hopeful spark shines in her eyes and she grins, revealing sharp teeth.

“Three,” she says. “Standard package. Very powerful number, three.”

“Just so we're clear, I let you go and you grant me three boons?”

“You release me from this cage and I shall grant you three boons spread over three days of your choosing. I swear it on the skulls of my ancestors.”

She points eagerly to a surprisingly simple latch holding the cage closed. I know very little about magic, such things are anathema in civilized society, but I can only assume the glowing writing on the cage is meant for something like her and not something like me.

Regardless, I am reluctant to get too close. I find a long stick amongst the snow at the base of the tree and poke fumblingly at the latch from a safe distance. After a few attempts, I finally manage it and she comes tumbling out in a great squawking bundle of feathers.

She dusts the snow off of herself, revealing great birdlike feet with wicked talons and a whip-like tail that lashes excitedly behind her. She uncurls her body to full height and extends her wings in a languorous stretch.

I am not a short person, but I find myself dwarfed by her. At full height, she is nearly a full head taller than me, and her outstretched wings are nearly twice that height.

She cracks her neck and folds her wings close, ruffling her feathers and puffing up to ward off the cold.

My heart is hammering in my chest when she finally turns her attention back to me.

“What manner of person are you?” she asks as she begins circling me. “Man or woman? Something else maybe?”

She pauses behind me, craning her neck to get a look down my collar. I wrap my cloak around myself tightly in an attempt to preserve my modesty.

“I am a woman!” I snap indignantly.

She cocks her head.

“Indeed?”

When I was fifteen, my household hosted a delegation of merchants from a land across the sea. I remember them ogling and leering at me and asking the most inappropriate sorts of questions. I hated every minute of it, but the trade interests were too important for any sort of argument my father had told me. So I played the dutiful daughter. I made my family proud.

Out here in the wild, so far removed from any sort of propriety, this demon seemed to possess a genuine desire to understand, without a hint of derision. Perhaps… perhaps I could have a conversation with someone unburdened by any preconceived notions of the dictates of gender, neither from my homeland or distant lands with backwards beliefs.

The old familiar traitorous thoughts send a thrill through me and I quickly shove them aside. It is not proper to question my place in society or my role as a daughter or a bride. Nor is it proper to hold any such conversation with a demon.

(Nor is it proper for a woman of my station to be out in the wilderness such as I am, but these are special circumstances)

“Indeed I am,” I say. “Now tell me of these boons.”

She scowls in disappointment at the change of topic.

“Fine,” she sighs. “But first, answer me this: what is it that you seek? What is it that your heart desires?”

“I was to be wed at the end of summer, but the night before the wedding day, the Lady of Winter came down from her mountain and stole my bridegroom away. He is the nephew of a merchant prince, they are a very wealthy and-”

“You're out here risking your life for a man??” she interrupts. “No man is worth trifling with the Lady of Winter, trust me.”

“I am doing my family a great honor!” I reply defensively. “I will prove my devotion and earn my parents an even greater brideprice than what has already been agreed upon.”

She cocks her head the other way and leans forward, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

“But do you love him?” she asks.

“He was one of my dearest friends when we were children,” I say, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “On my naming day, a soothsayer read our fortunes in the stars and determined that we were a most auspicious match.”

She leans closer, too close now.

“You didn't answer my question,” she purrs.

“What is it to you?” I demand, jerking back.

She smirks and gives a little shrug.

“Nothing to me,” she says. “I'm simply gauging your conviction. These sorts of things come with a cost, and if your head and heart possess different notions of that cost, it can complicate things.”

“A cost??” I sputter. “But I freed you-”

“In exchange for the privilege of receiving my gifts,” she enunciates slowly with a roll of her eyes. “Listen, my friend. I can't make something from nothing, so everything costs something. It's called equivalent exchange.”

She taps her chin thoughtfully and sweeps me head to toe with her gaze.

“For example,” she continues. “A fur coat would serve you well… something nice and cozy to keep the chill at bay. I can't simply pull one out of thin air, I need something from you first.”

“What do you need?” I ask nervously.

“Your skin.”

“My…?”

I recoil in horror and she bursts into cackling laughter.

“Your face!” she wheezes as she doubles over. “You should see it!”

I feel a rush of embarrassed indignance and I'm surprised to find my fists clenching.

“This isn't funny,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but it is,” she says as she wipes tears from her eyes. “Seriously though, we'll need your skin. The best, easiest way to do this is to trick part of your body into forgetting that it's human.”

I stare at her, mouth agape.

“You mean… fur. Literal fur on my body? You can't be serious.”

“I am,” she says with a wicked grin. “That's how my magic works. How far are you willing to go for this man?”

I think of the pride in my father's face when my brideprice was negotiated. I think of the face of my bridegroom, the way he looked upon me the last time I saw him, the desire and satisfaction that I would soon be his.

I shouldn't even be out here, it is not a woman’s place to conduct such a rescue. If I returned now, empty handed, the dishonor I would face would be unimaginable. It would be far, far worse than if I had never left at all.

For better or worse, I am committed. I am also woefully unprepared and my success is now dependent upon the gifts this demon has to offer.

Fur would not be such a terrible thing, would it? I already shaved my body daily. This would just be one extra step to my morning and evening routines.

“Do it,” I command.

She claps her hands in delight.

“Close your eyes," she drawls, "and try not to think. Don't fight it.”

I close my eyes and stand shivering in the cold. I try to force my thoughts into quietude. It is difficult, with each stray thought I supress, it seems that two more appear to take its place.

I feel a jolt and a tingling feeling spreads throughout my body. I know instantly that it is the demon's magic, writhing and worming its way through me.

Don't fight it. Don't fight it. Don't fight it.

An itch starts at the back of my neck, spreading down my spine and across my back and down my arms and legs. It is not painful, but it itches more and more terribly with each passing second. I clench my fists tighter and tighter as it takes every shred of willpower not to scratch.

Then, so abruptly that it makes me gasp, the feeling is gone and I am left blessedly warm. I can still feel the chill of the wind, but it is a distant discomfort now, as if I really were wearing a thick winter coat.

I crack my eyes open and look down to the backs of my hands. From beneath the sleeves of my dress pale silver-grey fur pokes out, with darker spots like the rosettes of a leopard.

“Oh,” the demon gasps. “Fascinating...”

She steps forward and rubs the back of a clawed finger against the exposed fur on my neck, sending a thrill through me and setting my heart racing.

“Such lovely fur,” she croons.

(next chapter)

[soylent-crocodile]

Animal Conversions- Panthers and Apes

These, for the time being, are the last two animal conversions I'm publishing. I have bears and boars statted up, although they are close in abilities and CR to really be worth it, I think. I intend to tackle ocean life (dolphins, orcas, seals) soon, but that's for a later date.

I may have mentioned my love of cat monsters here before, and my panther's stat block here probably shows that bias. I've combined jaguars and leopards into one stat block, even if they aren't any more related than they are to other Panthera species, because they're large and solitary. My other reason for grouping panthers into one statblock was to give the DM an opportunity for some spec evo- maybe there are striped arboreal panthers in your world? Maybe black panthers are their own species? Go wild!

Chimps also got a massive boon. You may notice I gave chimps an intelligence of 3- personally, I think pathfinder's scale of "smart, stupid, literally mindless" is just not a very good way of defining animal intelligence. I'm giving particualy smart animals (pinnipeds, elephants, apes, parrots, corvids) an intelligence of 3 to represent this. Also chimps can maul you know. They're fuckin scary, yo.

(Jaguar by CorvusHound)

Cat, Panther

This predator stalks quietly through trees and waterways, eyes glinting and pelt spotted. Misc- CR4 TN Medium Animal HD5 Init:+9 Senses: Perception:+7, Low-Light Vision, Scent  Stats- Str:20(+5) Dex:21(+5) Con:16(+3) Int:2(-4) Wis:16(+3) Cha:13(+1) BAB:+3 Space:5ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:38(5d8+15) AC:8(+5 Dexterity, +4 Natural) Fort:+7 Ref:+9 Will:+4 CMD:23 (+2 Racial bonus vs Trip)  Offense- Bite +8(1d8+5), 2 Claw +7(1d6+3 plus Grab) CMB:+8 (+2 Racial bonus to Grapple) Speed:40ft, Climb 30ft, Swim 30ft Special Attacks: Pounce, Precise Feats- Multiattack, Weapon Focus (Claw), Improved Initiative Skills- +16 Climb, +6 Intimidate, +7 Perception, +13 Stealth, +16 Swim (+4 Racial bonus to Stealth and Intimidate) Special Qualities- Roar Ecology- Environment- Forests, Plains, Rivers (Warm) Languages- None Organization- Solitary Treasure- None Special Abilities- Precise  (Ex)- A panther gets a +4 Racial bonus to rolls to confirm critical hits. Roar (Ex)- A panther may make an intimidate check as a swift action.

“Panther” is a word that can refer to a number of medium-sized solitary cats, typically leopards and jaguars. They are all-terrain hunters, capable of climbing and swimming, and of all wild animals they are among the most common who turn maneater.

Panther pelts are prized as exotic trophies; if relatively undamaged and treated properly, they sell for 200gp in most markets.

Ape, Chimpanzee

This hairy ape has long, sharp canines and a manic expression on its face. Misc- CR2 TN Medium Animal HD3 Init:+3 Senses: Perception:+2 Stats- Str:19(+4) Dex:17(+3) Con:16(+3) Int:3(-4) Wis:6(-2) Cha:14(+2) BAB:+3 Space:5ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:23(3d8+9) AC:13(+3 Dexterity) Fort:+6 Ref:+6 Will:+1 CMD:20  Offense- Bite +7(1d6+4) or 2 Slam +2(1d4+2 plus trip) CMB:+7 (+2 Racial bonus to Trip) Speed:30ft, Climb 30ft Special Attacks: Vulnerable Strike +1d6 Feats- Iron Will, Power Attack (-1/+2) Skills- Climb +11, Intimidate +4, Perception +2, Swim +0 (-4 Racial penalty to Swim) Special Qualities- Screech Ecology- Environment- Forests (Warm) Languages- None Organization- Troop (4-8) Treasure- None Special Abilities- Vulnerable Strike (Ex)- A chimpanzee knows to target the softest parts of its opponent. Their bite attack deals an additional 1d6 precision damage against creatures that are flanked, grappled, prone, or helpless. Creatures dealt damage this way must make a DC12 Fortitude save or be sickened in pain.

Chimpanzees are tropical animals that closely resemble humanoids and live in troops which have occasional violent infighting. Because of their appearance, many humanoids have attempted to tame or train chimps, but these situations rarely go well, and it’s best for everyone’s sake that they stay in the wild.

[yourstarforevermore]

((Yooo!! This rp blog is really cool, and ashfjfhs I apologize for this prompt because I am also. Rusty as fuck in rp, it’s been Years))

It’s been mere hours since the nautiloid crash. The smell of acrid rot festers in the air around the ship of machine and flesh. Yet, there is hope- the survivors have found each other amidst the storm of goblins and nearby tomb raiders. The camp they’ve built is like their own little pocket universe of peace. Well- if you ignore the eerily silent skeleton staring at the river like it owed him coin.

Of all of Astarion’s new companions, Max is the strangest. Though, it is difficult to find an adjective to really describe his appearance. He’s a trans man, though gender is pretty fluid for faelings- a term coined by ages past to stand in for the lack of, or in Max’s case, abundance of species his kind can be at once. For the most part he’s a humanoid, with fair elven looks. But his doe brown eyes reflect light like an animal’s. His teeth are just too sharp to be normal, giving him a cute little pout of an overbite not dissimilar to Astarion himself. Moreover, his hands are clawed, his tail bearing the same color as his short black curls that extend down the back of his neck in a little fluffy mane that follows his spine. He’s only 5’4”, making it easy to climb up in a tree and go unnoticed to participate in his favorite activity: people watching.

And currently, his cat-like eyes are following Astarion.

･ ｡ﾟ ──────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────── ☆ﾟ.

Astarion was once again on the hunt for prey. Prey in which he hoped to satiate his own ever-nagging blood thirst. Thankfully, the forest was brimming with all forms of life forms he could so greedily snack upon, centuries of being locked away eating nothing but rotting rats had caused him to grow ravenous in regards to the amount and kind of meals he could sink his teeth into. He was a predator of the night, his ever-so-vigilant eyes observing for any small movement in the darkened forest, it was almost eerie to be hunting in the dead of the night but not for this particular vampire.

It was the subtle rustle of leaves that suddenly alerted him, his head turning back to see just what was making that very noise. An animal no doubt, at least that's what he thought, an animal he could so easily catch with his own bare hands. As long as he didn’t have to ruin a nail. He moved closer towards the source of the sound and yet he found nothing, he couldn't even hear the gentle rustle of leaves the unknown creature was making beforehand. Yet still, be knew there was something in the forest with him, and he was going to find out exactly what the something is.

It was the slightest sound of a branch cracking which caused him to immediately throw his dagger upwards toward a nearby tree. He had found exactly where the sound was coming from and he’d be damned if he didn't get to eat something tonight. However, he was stunned speechless for a moment upon realizing the creature he was attempting to hunt, his eyes widening upon seeing a familiar frame stalking in the shadows.

“Max!”

He yelled out, practically scaring off whatever forest critter that could have been lurking around at this hour of the night.

“Bloody hells, what are you doing up there? Actually- how did you get up there? Gods, I nearly killed you, get down from there will you, darling.”

･ ｡ﾟ ──────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────── ☆ﾟ.

((Glad you find it cool btw <3 no worries if you’re rusty as well!! Just have fun!!))

･ ｡ﾟ ──────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────── ☆ﾟ.

[silverheartlugia2000]

Wildling- werecat trevor

too many vampire/werewolf trevor stories. Why not catshifter? he likes climbing/sleeping in trees, avoiding people, and broke a mans leg once for abusing a cat. 

summery-   Trevor wasn't a social butterfly like Sypha or a classy vampire prince like Adrien, despite being born into lordship. Compared to them Trevor lived like a feral alley cat half his life and often acted as such. One day he was alone the next he had two people he might come to call friends.

Still instinct and habit are hard things to hold back for a stray sometimes, even with how much he's come to trust, maybe love the two. Especially when it came to the three key rules to survival.

1 always be ready for a fight whether it be for defense, a place to sleep, or food, letting your guard down could mean death.

2 if you know you can't win a fight, bluff your way out. Half of the time intimidation was more than enough to suffice against an opponent.

3 injuries should be kept hidden at all costs. Injuries and sickness mean weakness. It makes him a target for an easy meal.

-backstory- Not long after the manor was burned, a witch catches him stealing food, it was supposed to be a punishment, she had a reputation after all, but hopefully the mild curse she gives him should help this child survive long enough to fulfill his part in the prophecy. She didn’t know it would take it upon itself to evolve alongside him afterwards. it was never intended to give him a beast form, semi immortality, or let him bear children alongside their wife. 

-They didn’t leave Alucard after Dracula's death, but Trevor ends up called away for a hunt. After coming home and sleeping off injuries for a week Trevor wakes with a sense of foreboding and the smell of strangers. Meanwhile Alucard allows the twins to explore his family's hold. The conflict awakens something within that has started to wake the need to claim what’s his

-the mirror still works. Sypha uses it to fill her travel urges, and to drag Trevor home when he wanders off and gets hurt.

-Trevor is touch starved but also unused to good touches so he still tenses. Does not like being woken up suddenly because of past experiences and may punch or stab because of it. Can NOT sleep easily without a knife or two under his pillow.

-before the fight with the twins it was very subtle, he had slightly sharper senses especially for magic, reflexes, agility, strength, instincts that were more suited to help in his hunts, awareness focused than anything. Had sharp teeth but not unusually so, kitten noises were very subdued and rare, will either sit still for hours or pace relentlessly depending on the situation, still can't help but pee everywhere though.

-the night the twins try to kill Alucard is when it peaks, the second he smells burning flesh, fuck his wounds he runs to Al and pounces on the threat.

-His full form is only slightly taller, still shorter than Al, his claws ears tail come and go while still trying to learn control, very likely to pop up when hes emotional. more noticeable fangs even without shifting, his little ticks get worse, purrs and growls more openly, is slowly getting comfortable with giving hugs and cheek rubs.

-he can get pregnant cause why not? he's still repressing depression about the whole last Belmont thing and the curse takes advantage of it. But it only after Sypha starts playing with the peen book and they double up on their ‘cute kitten’ which a month latter he spends a week wondering where this mild fever came from and why he’s suddenly extra touch starved and attempting to control his hornyness even though they both have suddenly been looking at him like starved dogs, it doesn't help that he's also somehow lost the ability of human language. No one realizes it for a long while until its kind of obvious. 

-Ot3. sypha gets to be semi immortal too cause magic

And yes the witch is catwoman 

This is as far as I got...

Trever was very much like a cat the two observed.

But considering what little he told them about his life when they first explored the hold, it was sort of understandable that a homeless 12 year old lordling would turn feral.

(after they ask about it)

He didn’t blame her for it, Selina had been one of the kinder ones, and only half trained as he was at the time; it was a lesson of caution in itself. 

It had only been a week after the fire. He still smelled of ash no matter how many rivers he dunked into. He had plenty of practice navigating the wilderness, but before there had always been someone with him. Showing him what to do and never without food. A whip wasnt very good for hunting at his current level of skill.

So when he happened across what he thought was an empty house with a garden and dried meats hanging

[proxylynn]

My take on D&D's Behir.

"An excerpt from the tome Creatures of the Wilderlands, by the sage and explorer Radamust: One of the most malevolent creatures I have ever encountered is the Behir. Having nearly fallen victim to its depredations on two separate occasions, I have endeavored to learn more about this wild and curious beast, which is occasionally mistaken for a wingless dragon by the uneducated. A Behir is unmistakable to the learned, once you have seen it.

It is a twelve-legged serpent, with each foot bearing three toes that end in razor-sharp talons. These talons are hooked like a raptor's but are designed for slashing, not grasping, prey. The body is covered in bandlike scales from light to dark blue in color with grayish tints along the edges. The underside is also light blue and composed of a vertical row of banded scales. The upper scales are very hard and tough and, if treated correctly, can be made into serviceable armor.

The head is long, and the narrow mouth is filled with many sharp teeth. Two backward-curving horns project from the rear of the skull, each black in color and 3-4' in length. Upon beginning my investigation, I discovered there was more than one species, each with its own special abilities and wildly divergent habitats."

[I've always had a fondness for the monsters of DnD, got a 2nd edition monster manual from a friend as a kid and I would read it for hours. (still own it) But after nabbing a copy of the 5th edition of the monster manual and looking it up online, my favorite beast is one of the most confusing and broken in terms of lore/design.]

Meet...The Behir...as represented in each edition.

[As you can see, it's quite the difference and doesn't match up with descriptions. But this isn't so bad, creatures go through redesigns and often art in the manuals doesn't line up with descriptions. This is common. So...What's the new description sound like?]

"A Behir was often mistaken for a wingless blue dragon. It had a long, snake-like body and could slither on the ground like a snake, but it also had six pairs of legs upon which it could walk or climb if it chose to do so. Each of a Behir's twelve feet contained three clawed toes. They began life with six or eight legs and grew additional legs as they aged. They grew about 8 feet (2.4 meters) per year.

Behirs had thick, armored scales, much like a dragon. Their scales were colored in variations of dark blue, being lighter on their undersides.

They had long narrow heads, crocodilian in shape, with curved, black horns on the top, which were used for preening. Behirs were born horn-less. Their mouths were full of many sharp multi-colored translucent teeth that were valued for their gem-like beauty, and their bones were crystalline."

[Okay...But this isn't what's shown either. If anything, this matches the older art and not the new sleek noodle boy. Don't get me wrong, I like the design, I adore snakes. But Behirs are not snakes. If anything, they are slightly draconian as they were made to kill dragons and speak Draconic naturally. Speaking of which, this brings up the next confusing part...The lore.]

"In times long forgotten, giants and dragons engaged in seemingly endless war. Storm giants created the first Behirs as weapons against the dragons, and Behirs retain a natural hatred for dragonkind. A Behir never makes its lair in an area it knows to be inhabited by a dragon. If a dragon attempts to establish a lair within a few dozen miles of a behir's lair, the Behir is compelled to kill the dragon or drive it off. Only if the dragon proves too powerful to fight does a Behir back down, seeking out a new lair site a great distance away."

[This sounds really awesome on paper, right? Yet...A massive flaw appears when you compare a Behir to a Dragon. Let's say that an adult behir is fighting a young red dragon. Both are roughly the same CR, with the behir at 11 and the young red dragon at 10.

Already, the young red dragon has some noticeable advantages. Its armor class is higher, it has marginally higher hit points, and it can fly 80 ft. per turn. The behir and young red dragon have the same Strength, but the behir is much faster than the dragon, Dex and land-speed-wise. Still, the dragon has a much higher Constitution.

But where the dragon really wins is its superior Intelligence. Sure, the behir has better self-preservation instincts with its higher Wisdom, so it knows when to run. But if the dragon has already out-thunk the beast, chances are the behir won’t even be able to escape. Keep in mind, this is just the young red dragon. Adult dragons and ancient dragons could easily avoid getting killed by behirs.

Another issue is size. Behir's stand at 5ft on all their legs and 20ft when they rear back on their hindmost eight legs, 4,000 pounds, and reach 40-60ft in length. They have the classification of Huge and can swallow creatures smaller than they, particularly medium and larger mammals such as boars, though they will also attack humans, ogres, and elves.]

[Now let's look at the common Behir's natural comparison, a Blue Dragon. (I say common Behir because lightning blue is the basic one but there are 2 rare variants that are only mentioned once...desert behir and jungle behir...if also compared to dragons I'd guess a fire red and poison green)]

Wyrmling- Medium Young - Large Adult - Huge Ancient - Gargantuan Greatwyrm - Gargantuan

Up to 85 feet long and 160,000 pounds; wingspan up to 80 feet

[No way a Behir is taking a Dragon down. So...What's the deal? How are Behir made to combat Dragons and still attack dragons now if they aren't suitable for it? This is where there are two theories that would help the lore a bit if Dungeon Masters want to use Behirs.

Theory 1: Current Behir are not the true Behir as made by the giants and have evolved to live in a world after the great war. The idea is that Behirs used to be a lot bigger, tougher, and smarter than they are now. Once the dragons were mostly depleted, they had to adapt to a world with fewer natural enemies. More than likely, the biggest of the Behirs were killed off quick, seeing as they were just as dangerous as the dragons. Those that did survive were those that were better at hiding and capable of finding other food sources. Years went by and they shrank down from their Gargantuan size of yore to their modern Huge size. Additionally, they lost a lot of their mental edge, trading strategic smarts for survival instincts.

Theory 2: They were never meant to fight adults and were made to lower the number of dragons by going after the babies. Behirs weren’t designed to fight the big guys; they were baby eaters. The behir’s swallow attack works only against Medium or Smaller targets. Any dragon over the age of five years is going to be Large or bigger. However, the wyrmlings and eggs are perfectly sized for the behir’s dislocated jaw. Behirs were trained to go into dragon lairs, slink through the stones, and eat the babies and unhatched eggs. This kept the dragon population in check. And if mom or dad caught them doing this, the behir used its lightning breath to scare them off and flee with its awesome speed and climbing ability. Being a neutral evil monstrosity, it’s not too hard to imagine this being the case.]

[So with all these broken conflicting points, can Behirs work? Yes, I think so. But things have to be cleared and some parts retooled once key parts are made official. Behirs have been around since the beginning and are of the first dragon-slaying monsters. There should be consistency given. The old lore on how they function as creatures is so damn interesting, it's a shame you'd have to dig super hard in old magazines to find it...Which I did because I am the lore queen and can be insane about it when I hyperfixate on something I love.]

[And like that, we reach the part where I get to be a big old nerd (more so than I have been so far) and bust out my take on a common lightning Behir.]

[I tried to incorporate aspects of the lore and art. Gave it a dragon/crocodile-style head, two black horns, banded belly scales, thick armored back scales, long slashing talons that can also grip, multi-colored translucent teeth (might need to zoom in for that), and I liked this idea of the tongue glowing slightly as a lure for prey while in caves (for quick snacks) but it gets brighter when firing a blast attack.

Aside from looks, I also want to mix that lore into the Behir Statistics. This is the current stats for Behir for DMs to use in games.]

[And this is more in line with what I'd use for a lore-based Behir sheet. This is based on a D&D Monster Analysis by The Bountiful Mimic, he does amazing content.]

[I'd also add a conflict resolution move if a party encounters a Behir but isn't able to battle it, so to avoid needless character slaughter from this new powerful beast, let's look at the lore again.]

"Behirs possess the capability to negotiate but only do so if they believe that for some reason they cannot take what they desire. Those who must frequently travel through a Behir's territory find that offering large amounts of food (such as a cow or a horse) along with a healthy amount of self-deprecating flattery is a good way to keep a Behir from attacking. Additionally, perhaps owing to some draconic ancestry, Behirs have a fondness for treasure, coveting silver to the exclusion of all other offerings."

[So this means if your stats are high and you have a nice chunk of silver or maybe a mount or two you don't mind losing, you could save you/your party's ass from a potential game-ender. I'm thinking to pull this off you'd need to have the Intelligence of 10 and Charisma of 16, you need to put in the work to barter with this bad boy or you risk being in the belly. I'm also not sure if a Bard could seduce a Behir but, you know, Bards are gonna Bard and a Behir is able to be charmed into being a companion (The Lamia noble Transtra kept a Behir named Uliss as a companion, although she had to charm it to do so) but that has to be done constantly or you risk it turning on you.

All in all, this was a nice but way too long deep dive into a not-often-used monster that could use some love...and maybe some tender work on its history. As of late the newest use of Behirs in pop culture is Balder's Gate 3, the beast itself doesn't show up which is sad but you can get a Behir Blue Dice skin and Behir Scales. Behir Scales is an Alchemical Ingredient. Three are needed to extract Sublimate of Behir Scales, which is used to make Flashblinder. Thank you for your time in reading this. This was fun. ^_^]

[angellissy]

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G  F O R  T H E  S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat​ who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 3

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content warnings: Violence, implied torture, two pining idiots being two pining idiots, probably ooc Levi cuz oof i suck

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: y’all these chapters are getting real long now… and they only get longer as i keep writing. just wanted to a say a quick and huge thank you for the amazing support i’ve had so far. i honestly didn’t think anyone would read this little story and it’s so heartwarming to see people enjoying it

i love every one of y’all so much 🥺

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

If your hands were free, you would have shielded your eyes as the blinding sun greeted you. You weren’t quite expecting it to be so bright. You knew the overhead world was nowhere near as dark as it was in the Underground City, you’d seen the rays of light spilling down from the toll gate but never in your life had you expected life to seem so..,

Vibrant.

Blinking a few times, you almost had to force yourself to remember your circumstances, gently pulling against your chains. The look of awe on your face was unmistakable.

“Holy shit…” you breathed, eyes now wide as you took in your surroundings. It was warm up here. Really warm. The sun gently beating down on the busy streets. Levi appeared next to you, pushing you forward to continue up the stairs.

“Don’t get used to it, you’ll be in a cell before long,” you were expecting to catch some satisfaction in his tone, but there was nothing other than contempt. You took a breath, managing to resist attempting to kick his shin as you kept climbing the stairs, now fully embraced in the sun’s light. Though it didn’t last as long as you would have liked. Sooner than you deemed necessary, if you were honest, a carriage clattered up in front of you. It was surprisingly lavish considering you were a criminal. Squinting in suspicion, your hesitation only earned a rough push against the back of your head.

“Get in.”

“You never were one for manners were you?” you drawled after stumbling clumsily into the carriage. The plush leather seats squeaking against your own getup, leather on leather disagreeing with each other.

“Not when it comes to people like you, no,” the raven haired man took up a seat opposite you, immediately folding his arms as staring out the small, curtained window. A muscle in your jaw flickered in irritation.

“People like me? You mean people like you? Or have you really forgotten where you came from? Did you lose brain cells as well as your sense of self?” god you just wouldn’t let up, would you? Levi rolled his eyes, successfully masking how much he hated the way you spoke to him. Like nothing ever happened between you. He understood. Of course he did. He knew why you were so upset. Why you were trying so hard to hurt him. He knew you wanted him to hurt the same way you did, but knowing what you were doing wasn’t going to stop the spear you kept repeatedly driving into his heart.

You attempted to shift ever so slightly, just so your hands weren’t painfully crushed against your back. Once again the thought of kicking him crossed your mind, but the situation wasn’t exactly in your favour right now.

It was only a few moments of awkward, deafening silence before you two were joined by both Erwin and Hange, the latter opting to sit next to you, seemingly not worried about whether or not you could still skin her alive even with your wrists bound. Erwin sat a respectable distance from you, despite the size of the carriage. The man barely fit, it was only because of your own size and the size of Levi did you assume you were all able to travel together. That still didn’t stop the man opposite you from throwing you a disgusted look as your knee grazed his. Just to piss him off, you did it again.

“SO! Raven, you’re joining the Scouts?” Hange blurted out, earning her a glare from Levi, a sigh from Erwin and a baffled scoff from you.

“Yeeeaaah… no. That’s not happening.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Erwin chimed in, almost defeatedly.

“Why don’t you just do what you usually do with criminals? Hang me as some sick entertainment for the public.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Levi…” Erwin warned lowly, to which Levi simply clicked his tongue in response.

Shit, that one hurt. He really didn’t care for you anymore, did he?

Once again, if you had your hands free, you would have run them through your hair. Joining the Scouts? That was never really something that ever crossed your mind. It didn’t seem to make sense. Why on earth would they want to draft you in? The question was swiftly pushed from your mind, replaced by another. Something you’d been burning to know ever since you realised the Scouts knew your location.

“Who was it?” you asked quietly, staring at your feet. Levi stiffened, shifting his eyes from the window back to you. Your demeanor struck a chord with him. You looked defeated, shoulders hunched over. “Who betrayed us? I just want to know.”

A heavy silence settled over the trio, none of them wanting to be the one who broke the news. The bond and connection between you and your Nest was strong. Trust ran through your veins, so to have it broken by any one of them was already shattering your very being.

“A woman. Brown hair, blue eyes. Scarlett, I think her name was,” at that moment, everything seemed to stop. Your world froze. It was Scarlett. Your own lover. Your wife. The woman you trusted more than any of them. She had betrayed you. Betrayed all of you. She was the one who put Una’s life in danger. The one who was responsible for the scar across her neck she would carry forever.

The three Scouts looked at each other, each not really knowing how you would react. Not even you knew how you were going to react. You were stuck in limbo. Everything and nothing was going through your mind. You didn’t know how long you’d sat there staring at nothing, simply trying to process this information, but it must have been an uncomfortably long time, if Erwin’s awkward throat clearing was any indication, gently bringing you back from your thought spiral.

“Oh.” was all you could manage, still not able to raise your head. Your eyes started to burn after not blinking for seemingly too long. How could she? How could she betray you? To the Military Police, of all people. You hadn’t cried for a very, very long time, but damn you were close.

Shit this entire ordeal had been difficult, but seeing you so defeated was next level. Levi dug his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from holding you. From comforting you. He still knew you well enough to tell when something was wrong. Very wrong. And although his stomach twisted slightly with the ideas of who this woman was running through his head, it was all he could do to tear his eyes from your hunched shoulders, returning his gaze to the window as the world passed him by.

“Did you know her?”

“Why would I tell you?” you tilt your head, glaring at Hange next to you, your jaw clenched. You may have just felt the last remaining fragment of your heart shatter, but that didn’t mean you would give them any more information than you had to.

“Raven, I give you my word, we will leave The Nest be,” Erwin tried his hand at reassuring you. None of this made any sense. Why were they being nice? Don’t they know how many soldiers you and your people had slaughtered? How much you had stolen from their warehouses?

You raised your eyes, seeing Levi glancing at you cautiously. Silver hues flicking over your defeated form with that same, cemented expression of boredom, before slowly looking back to the window. You spent the rest of the journey in silence, going over all the events that had led to this moment. How you could have possibly let this happen.

You trusted Prongs. You knew he would take care of your family. But Scarlett…

The bony claws of betrayal grasped your throat, gently squeezing until it became difficult to breathe. The walls of the carriage started closing in around you. Helplessness tainting the corners of your mind. You were stranded. Captured and soon to be forced into the military. To face those titans you’d heard so many people talk about.

You’d found the first man to ever hold your heart. You’d lost him, and then you’d found him again. And you could almost feel his hatred for you.

And though you put on a brave face. Though you put on an act to convince him you felt the same…

You couldn’t find it in your fractured heart to return his hatred.

The gentle, rhythmic clopping of hooves came to a slow stop, the door opening outwards to let the four of you out. Hange hopped down the step with seemingly boundless energy, before immediately engaging in conversation with a taller, worried looking man. Erwin stepped down, but once again you refused to move. If you could make their lives as difficult as possible, you would. Pure spite was fueling you now, your only current reason to carry on.

“Oi, move,” it was a blunt command, and one you paid no mind to. Not even raising your head to acknowledge Levi had said anything. “Hey. Did you lose your hearing on the way here? I said move,” a sharp kick to your shin prompted you to tilt your chin just enough to shoot another one of your glares in his direction. He too had to keep up his charade until he could get you alone and finally have a proper conversation.

“Go to hell,” was your only response, heavily debating spitting in his face as his hands once again grasped your arm. You flinched ever so slightly at the contact, something that didn’t go unnoticed, but it appeared Levi didn’t care.

Levi did care. Holy shit did Levi care. What the hell had happened to you to prompt you to flinch in such a way? Who the fuck had laid their hands on you? Who the fuck had hurt you like that? He allowed the rage to course through his veins, before letting it simmer down. He would deal with that later.

You stumbled as you were almost thrown from the carriage, knees colliding with the stone beneath you before you were dragged back to your feet

That fucking hurt. You started to think that maybe you could return his hatred. The next chance you got, you were driving you knee into his fucking gut. But for now, you decided to settle your glare on Erwin as he was talking to a darker haired man who kept glancing in your direction. It’s only now you realised your condition. You were filthy, mud and grime greasing your hair, blood and small cuts littering your face and knuckles, a dark bruise blossoming on the underside of your chin. Levi’s hand still held you firm, preventing you from even attempting to escape. Not that you would. You really couldn’t see the point, other than running into titan territory yourself. You tensed as the tall, haggard looking man approached you, apprehension mixed with disgust clouded his eyes, but it was an expression you refused to flinch away from.

“The Raven?” you couldn’t help raising a brow.

“Stupid fucking question. No, I'm just an innocent bystander dressed like The Raven for a costume party. I just so happened to think a pair of manacles clasped around my wrists completed the look,” you hissed sarcastically, and you could have sworn you heard something that could resemble a laugh from behind you, but it was so miniscule it was difficult to tell. If only this had been ten years ago.

You watched with satisfaction as a muscle twitched in his jaw, before the man managed to compose himself.

“My name is Niles Dok, Commander of the Military Police soldiers you seem to have so much fun slaughtering,” he introduced himself in a way that made it seem like the last thing he wanted to be doing was introducing himself to you right now.

“So? Do you want a written apology or something? Have to take these chains off me first,” you spat, with the innocent smile of an adder. This seemed to rile the man up more, to the point where he fisted your hair painfully, yanking your head up. His voice lowered to a dangerous murmur.

“Listen you little whore, I don’t know which door to hell you crawled out of, but I have men specially trained to deal with rats like you. They take pleasure in every agonised scream they can rip from your filthy mouth,” you refused to let your panicked, racing heart rule your mind, using every ounce of mental strength to hold his stare, firing back with a nasty glare of your own. And it took all of Levi’s willpower not to launch himself at the MP Commander.

“Go fuck yourself,” the retort came so naturally as you actually spat in his face. It gained you a much more satisfying reaction than you imagined you would get from Levi.

Swiftly removing his hand from your hair, you slumped back, staring up at the man between the now dishevelled strands. Wiping your saliva from his eye. You flinched as the back of his hand came up to strike you. Quicker than you would have expected, Levi was immediately by your side, eyes glinting with murderous intent. But before anything could happen, Niles’ hand was caught by Erwin behind him.

“Now, now Niles. Don’t go harming my soldiers,” his voice was borderline condescending as the MP Commander turned to look back to Erwin with an expression of disbelief.

“You can’t be serious? Erwin, this wasn’t part of the deal. You said—”

“I said we would aid you in capturing her. What happens to her after, is up to us. Think of it as collateral,” he reminded Niles of the deal they had struck before their meeting earlier.

“I didn’t think you would force her to join the Scouts. Are you insane?” It was a question Erwin had heard many times before.

“She’s just another calculated risk,” —he explained, before turning to his Captain— “Levi, take her to where she’ll be staying for the next week,” you had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, but honestly, you were just glad Erwin stepped in when he did. You didn’t fancy whatever strike was about to land on you, and didn’t want to deal with whatever trauma it would drag up from your less than agreeable past. You didn’t have nearly enough time to unpack Levi’s own movements.

“Tch, why me? Why not Four Eyes?” his eyes slid to the scientist, who seemed to be engaged in an increasingly elaborate conversation with that poor, poor soldier. Even you felt a pang of pity for him.

“Because I’m afraid if I let Hange take her, she’ll end up in her lab rather than the cell,” Erwin sighed tiredly, looking at Levi with almost pleading eyes as the conversation behind him got louder and louder.

“Fine. But you owe me,” he responded, before tugging you away with him. You were almost sorry when you no longer felt the warmth of the sun on your back as he led you inside.

It was a walk full of disgusted glares and crude remarks. Clearly everyone had heard who you were by now, if that wasn’t evident by the snarls of “Bitch” and “Underground rat.” It didn’t really phase you. What these people thought about you was their issue, not yours. Though, you wouldn’t mind beating every single one of them within an inch of their lives given half the chance.

You failed to notice Levi’s ever darkening expression behind you. The glares promising a painful death thrown in every direction. The way a muscle flickered in his jaw at every passing comment. It was only until the hallway was empty did he feel that tension ease a little.

“Down here,” Levi instructed, leading you down a narrow staircase. As if you could go anywhere else.

“Yeah, no shit,” you snapped, earning you a harsh shoved down a few stairs.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why? Afraid you won’t understand me?” that feigned sweetness to your tone was one you had perfected over the years he was gone, and was possibly your favourite form of sarcasm. He clearly didn’t dain your retort worthy of a response, the only sound to be heard being the echoing of your boots against the stone. It reeked of damp and rust, a different stench to the filth of the Underground. Speaking of which…

“You’re disgusting,” a flatly delivered insult was thrown your way as Levi guided you into one of the cells.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to have a shower before you ambushed us. I’ll be sure to remember next time so I can smell like a fresh forest. I’m sure it would be a more homely smell for you,” you couldn’t help the sarcastic remarks that flew from your mouth. But you fell silent as he began removing your manacles. Instantly a plan formulated in your head. This could be your only chance at escaping. You just had to wait for the right moment.

As soon as the chains were removed from your wrists, you thrust your head backwards, in hope of catching his face. But you were met with nothing but air, and the sounds of quick footsteps behind you.

“You’re even easier to predict now you’re in a cell. Don’t try stupid shit like that,” did he forget how to change the emotion in his voice? He was never the most emotional person you’d met, but he would at least sometimes change his voice from ‘bored’ to ‘slightly irritated’. You were starting to wonder what else he had forgotten during his time here when the iron bar door to your cell was slammed shut, the key clicking in the lock. Now you were certain you couldn’t escape, you took in your living space for the next week. The bare minimum had been provided. A bed with no bed clothes, a rustic sink you weren’t even sure worked, and a broken mirror. Great.

The scraping of a chair behind you piqued your curiosity, turning you head to see Levi had taken a seat in front of your cell door, elbows resting on his knees.

“The fuck are you doing?” you asked, rising from your knees to turn and lean against the wall, arms folded.

“Waiting,” god damn his single word responses. You huff in frustration.

“Waiting for what?”

“You.”

“I could strangle you with my bare hands and feel absolutely nothing right now.”

“You’d have to escape first.”

“What makes you think I can’t?”

“What makes you think you can?”

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There didn’t seem to be any way you could escape these walls, you’d already done a quick run down. Threading your hands through your hair in irritation, you cross to sit on the pathetic material they thought was a bed.

“So?” you ask, still no closing to knowing what the hell he wanted. Once again, he didn’t deem your question worthy of a vocal response, opting instead to raise a thin eyebrow. You briefly fantasise about driving one of your long lost daggers into his goddamn eye, before simply brushing it off with a roll of your eyes. “Fine. Stay there and stare at me. It’s your time you're wasting,” you shrugged, flopping back onto the bed, arms thrown out either side of you.

“What have you been up to?” you couldn’t help the bark of sour laughter at the question.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“After all this time, the first thing you ask me is what I’ve been up to?”

“Would you prefer me to ask you something else?”

“What’s on the menu?”

For a moment, it almost felt like no time had passed since you’d last seen each other. It felt like only yesterday did he have you in his arms, curled up in his bed, gently running his hands over your exposed waist, revelling in how soft your skin was against his.

Running a hand through his dark locks to bring himself out of his thoughts, he changed the trajectory of his questioning.

“Who taught you to fight like that?

“Self-taught.”

“Bullshit,” you winced at his response, raising your head slightly to stare at him, wondering who gave him the audacity to doubt you.

“Oh yeah? Not all of us had the advantage of stupidly strong genes, shortstuff,” shit, you hadn’t said that nickname in a long, long time. Clearly he hadn’t heard it for a long time either, judging by the way his eyes widened his body stilled. Neither of you were able to comment on the irony of the name, considering you were just as vertically challenged. Managing to shake yourself from your daze first, you realised that was a lot for both of you. “Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

“No, it’s… fine,” there was no malice in his voice. No hatred, a surprise that caused you to turn your head back to face him. Levi cleared his throat before continuing. “How’d you get that scar?” the second question caught you off guard, not expecting anything so personal so quickly. Naturally, you responded with something sarcastic.

“Tea party gone wrong,” an irritated sigh echoed off the dank walls, clearly not satisfied with your answer.

“What happened to you, Raven...?” if it wasn’t for the acoustics of the room, you would have missed the comment, but your heart clenched painfully as the third question reached your ears.

“You left, so I moved on,” you didn’t mean to sound so small or vulnerable. You didn’t mean to drag your knees up to your chest and clasp your arms around them. You didn’t mean to turn your head again, avoiding his gaze.

Levi mentally begged you not to look that way. He’d never seen you so insecure. And that itself broke his resolve.

Standing from his chair, Levi crossed the small space to the barred doors, not thinking twice about unlocking it and leaving the key in the lock. His body was almost acting on a it’s own. Years of taking you into his arms and holding you suddenly came back to him and he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms once again.

But he hesitated.

You both did.

After raising your head to look at him, you watched as he stopped in the centre of your cell. Almost as if he was silently asking for some sort of permission to just do something.

You shifted slightly so you were leaning against the iron bars rather than the stone wall to the back, Levi taking this as the silent permission he needed to take a seat next to you.

Shit, the instinct to throw yourself into his arms was almost overwhelming, but you refrained, not wanting that kernel of hope to smoulder into nothing when he rejected you.

Levi was the first to break the silence.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, looking up to him between the loose, mangled strands of hair now obscuring your face just a bit. Age had been kind to him. His features, now much more defined. He was still the same man you knew back then, but this one was more chiseled. You looked away when his eyes found yours.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

It wasn’t the exchange you were expecting, this quick back and forth, but you wouldn’t say it was unwelcome. A familiar warmth started to spread in your chest.

“How’s the jaw?” you asked, eyes wandering to the now hefty bruise against his pale, soft skin. You remembered when you used to leave marks of similar colour all over his body. His neck, collarbones, abdomen, thighs…

“‘S’fine. How’s the chin?” his own eyes slid back to you, silver irises scanning your face briefly.

“Yeah. Fine,” you let the silence settle for a moment, before breaking it again. “Sorry I kicked you,” Levi grunted in quiet amusement.

“It was a damn good plan. Sorry I knee’d you,” it was only when he heard your gentle chuckle did he realise just how much he’d missed you. Every fibre in his body was begging him to roughly tug you into his body. To cup your face in his hands and seal your lips with a burning kiss. But all that changed when he shifted slightly and you flinched at the sudden movement. He stilled, waiting for you to relax again before he too settled back down.

“You knew her, didn’t you?” it was a rhetorical question. Your reaction after the reveal told him everything. Not only did you know her, but she was somebody close to you.

You stayed silent for a couple moments, not really knowing how to respond to his shift in conversation. You decided to match it.

“Yeah. I did,” you wouldn’t tell him. Not unless he asked. You wouldn’t tell him who she was to you. What she was to you. That still fucking hurt like hell.

“‘M’sorry.”

“You say that a lot,”

“You’re one to talk,”

You didn’t even try to quell your small laugh, letting it echo off the stone walls. Even Levi couldn’t stop a small chuckle at your amusement, feeling himself completely at ease in your presence.

“Did you really move on?” it was his turn to feel small. His turn to feel a little vulnerable. He couldn’t bear the thought of you just moving on from what the two of you had. Just throwing it all in the past and leaving it there.

“Yes and no.”

“The hell does that mean?”

You sighed, tightening your grip around your knees. You hoped this wouldn’t be as painful for him to hear as it would be for you to say, but you didn’t hold out much hope.

“Yes, I moved on. I’m not the same girl I was. Trust me on that. I’m not the same girl you fell in love with, nor the girl who fell in love with you,” you had to take a breath, suddenly finding the air down here far too thick. “She wouldn’t have survived down there. That girl would have been killed by some pig the moment you left. So... I killed her myself. You already know I’ve been part of The Nest for a while, but I wasn’t really one of them, if you get what I mean. I didn’t stay with them, I didn’t eat with them. Sure, Viper took me in after my—“ you stopped, burying that can of worms before you even opened it. That wasn’t something you wanted to bring up right now. “Viper took me in, taught me a few things, but I stayed with you. I didn’t have to be one of them when I was with you. But when you left… I didn’t exactly have a choice. I couldn’t be so naive anymore. I couldn’t be so hopeful. I had to be realistic, and to be realistic, I had to hurt a lot of people. I had to see a lot of things,” you allowed the weight of your words to settle before you continued. “But that girl. That girl you knew. She never stopped loving you. Up til the moment she drew her last breath and I took over. She loved you. But I moved on,” you fell silent, realising that yes, this had been just as painful for him to hear as it was for you to say.

It was a long while before Levi spoke again, nowhere near as confident as he was.

“That’s who she was to you,” just as he thought seeing you again couldn’t get anymore painful. Just as he thought your words couldn’t get anymore painful. “You loved her?”

“Yes, but not completely. Part of me was still devoted to you. I think that’s why she did what she did. Scarlett was never a spiteful person, but she did hold one hell of a grudge against you. And I suppose, in a way, me,” the silence was so thick you thought you could cut it with one of your blades.

“She’s still there.”

“Hm?”

“That girl. She’s still there. You’re still in there.”

“Now look who’s being naïve,”

“You’re trying to tell me this new, supposedly ruthless killer would kick the shit out of some soldiers for hurting a kid. You’re trying to tell me this new cold hearted thief would bring medicine to an elderly woman and her son?”

“I—”

“You’re telling me this new, heartless little dealer would earn the respect and thanks of thousands of Underground rats? Because to me, that sounds like bullshit… (Y/N),” he wouldn’t accept it. You weren’t gone, he could see it in your actions. You were still there. His (Y/N) was still in there.

Hearing your name in his low, warm tone after all this time sent a jolt through your system. And when he turned to look at you, he could see silver lining your eyes. It took everything in him not to reach up and gently wipe them away.

“I’m not going to stop until you see what I see. I’m not going to let you think you’ve become this heartless, mindless killer just because you had to adapt. Because you had to survive. I’ve finally found you again. Do you know how long I searched for you? How many hours I spent tracing every single path I knew you would take. Asking every filthy mongrel I could find. Most of them said you were dead. Some of them said you were missing and hadn’t been seen in months. Years, even. But until I found a body, or some kind of proof you were dead, I couldn’t accept it,” well this certainly caught you off guard. Levi was never one for long, heartfelt speeches, or verbal communication at all, actually. So this was a little overwhelming. Two tears slipped down your cheeks, sliding through the sudden cracks in your defenses and leaving a trail through the thin layer of grime and dirt.

Levi kept his eyes trained ahead, knowing that if he saw you crying, his restraint would break and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from holding you. But he knew he couldn’t. From the way you’d reacted to his small movements, he knew suddenly tugging you into him would scare you.

“I’m sorry,” your small voice wrapped around his fragile heart, both settling it and cracking it. He went to extend his hand towards you with the intention of smoothing down your hair, but the way you winced, almost anticipating something much more intense, made him stop. Shit, you really did look like a husk of your former self. He remembered the way your eyes used to glint even in the low lighting of the Underground.

“You should rest,” it was an appealing enough suggestion. Enough to draw a barely concealed yawn from you. Leaning your head against the iron bars behind you, you swore you could have fallen asleep there and then. Comforted by his presence.

You immediately missed his presence as soon as he stood, tempted to reach out for his hand but not wanting to push him away.

As if he felt your confliction, Levi stopped to turn back to you.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Rest, (Y/N),” it wasn’t like you could disobey when your mind and body was so eager to sleep.

“Fuck…” you muttered, running a hand down the side of your face, exhaustion hitting you like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t exactly how you saw your day going today, but you couldn’t exactly say you weren’t thankful. You didn’t know what you were, honestly. So much had happened, you knew you would need time to process everything.

The screech of metal against metal alerted you to the key once again locking you within the cell. Dipping your head, you watched the dark haired man return the keychain to a small nail in the wall.

“Hey…” Levi turned to you as you called out, his expression as soft as it was a few moments ago. “It’s really good to see you again,” a thousand butterflies suddenly exploded in his stomach. How long had he been waiting to hear those words? And suddenly, he found himself unable to reply.

“Tch, go to sleep, Raven,” he reveled in your amused hum as he turned on his heel, leaving you to recover after today.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi ran a hand through his hair. Sitting at his desk in his orderly kept office, he could barely focus on the reports in front of him. That haunted look in your eyes had left a significant mark on him. The way you now spoke was so different to the bubbly younger girl he knew.

With a shake of his head, he attempted to divert his attention back to the account of the mission today. You’d taken down a few of his men yourself, he recalled watching your blades find purchase in his makeshift squad. A few others hadn’t returned from where they’d chased your Shadows. Actually, most others didn’t return.

As predicted, it was a bloodbath.

Leaning forward, he reached for his tea, continuing to scan over the document until his eyes settled on your alias, and he couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t told anyone your name. It prompted a memory he wasn’t expecting. He’d tried so many times to bury his past. Thinking about it saved him from thinking about his lost friends. But it was unavoidable.

“Hey! ‘Re’ya gonna buy anything? Or you just gonna keep staring?” Levi peaked out from behind the legs of a taller man, peering at the young girl who seemed to be giving his father figure sass. He couldn’t understand it. Didn’t she know who he was? She didn’t look much older than him. Maybe eight? Nine even?

“Listen little missy, I don’t think you wan’ to rush me,” the southern lilt of Kenny’s dangerously low voice didn’t seem to deter the little merchant. Levi’s eyes widened as she folded her arms, her grubby face creasing as she frowned. For someone so young, she certainly had an impressive glare.

“Or what? You gonna kill me? I sell to the whole street, mister. You kill me, they starve,” Wow, she really seemed to have this whole thing going for her. Levi looked up at Kenny, able to just make out the subtle smile under the shadow of his hat.

“What’s your name, little girl?

“Hmph. What’s it to you?” she retorted, stepping closer. It was only then she seemed to notice his presence. Her glare seemed to soften almost instantly, head tilting in sheer curiosity. Her sparkling, (E/C) eyes widened upon seeing him there. He only occupied a fraction of her attention, before it returned to Kenny, that scowl also returning.

“You’ve got guts kid, I’ll give you that. But maybe that’s simply cuz you don’t know who I am,” he mused, picking up one of the loaves of bread you were currently selling. They weren’t fresh. Nothing ever was. But it was the best your family had to offer.

“Kenny the Ripper, right? Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Seen your ugly face in the newspaper when those shits up top toss their trash through the grates. And you better buy that now your filthy hands have been all over it,” Levi couldn’t tell if this girl was brave or stupid. He’d never heard anyone speak to Kenny like that and actually get away with it.

“(Y/N) (L/N)! Watch your language young lady! And what have I told you about mouthing off to customers?!” her face quickly morphed from a glare to something he could only describe as sheepish. An older woman leaning out from the door behind you. Her hair colour was different to yours, but those eyes… they were your eyes.

“But Maaaaa, I was just—“

“No buts. Inside, now,” her voice was stern, but Levi was perceptive from a young age. He could see the softness in her eyes as the girl pouted. Turning back, he watched her send a cheery wave goodbye in his direction, pausing slightly as it wasn’t returned. Her brows furrowed, before she darted inside.

“Quite the brat you got there,” Kenny remarked, handing over a coin in payment for the bread he’d picked up.

“Yeah, sorry about her. Pain in my ass but her heart’s in the right place. I hope,” Levi wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation, too distracted by watching the same girl clamber out the open window and onto the ledge above. Only using her right hand to climb, she paused, as if calculating something before shimmying along the wall, round the corner and out of sight. Before Levi even had time to question what the hell he’d just witnessed, her head popped round the corner, eyes searching for him. He raised his brows in question when she gestured for him, whipping back round the corner. Seeing Kenny still caught up in conversation, he quietly left the two adults, heading for the narrow alleyway she’d just ducked into.

“Hey,” the whisper made him whirl, stopping to see her cautiously step from the shadows near the wall. “You looked hungry, so I stole this from our stocks,” it became apparent as to why she was only using one hand to climb when she presented another, slightly smaller loaf of bread. It wasn’t as stale as the ones on the stall. “We got fresh ingredients yesterday. My father’s a baker but we only sell the stale ones because we wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demand for fresh bread,” she explained quietly, her eyes wide in earnest. If it wasn’t for his ravenous hunger, Levi would have declined the offer. However, the smell was too good to pass up on. Slowly, he reached for it, half expecting her to snatch it back. But her honest expression remained, only retracting her hand after he’d taken a bite. “Don’t talk much, do you? That’s okay, I get a lot of people who are shy.”

Crossing her legs, she lowered herself to the floor, resting her back against the wall to what he could only assume was her house. He followed suit, sitting opposite her in the damp alleyway.

“Your dad’s an asshole, by the way. Very obkonshus,” Levi assumed she was trying to say obnoxious, but didn’t correct her. He almost found it endearing.

“He’s not my dad,” his blunt response had her head whipping back to look at him, almost in disbelief that he had actually spoken. A small blush blossomed across her cheeks at her mistake.

“O-oh. Sorry. I didn’t know,” an awkward silence settled over them, before she spoke up again. “Your not-dad’s an asshole,” Levi glanced at her, noting her cheeky smirk. His own lips twitched in amusement. She wasn’t wrong. Kenny was an asshole.

They stayed there until he’d finished his bread, (Y/N) simply talking about everything and nothing.

“Where’d that little rat scurry away to?” Kenny’s drawl interrupted your little conversation, prompting the both of you to shoot to your feet. The girl shot him a worried look, not knowing how this was going to play out. Levi was never one to offer reassurance, never really needing to, until now. He tried his hand at a reassuring expression, before stepping out the alleyway a little.

“Here, I was just—” he looked back to the narrow street where she just was, only to find she’d completely disappeared. His eyes widened ever so slightly, attempting to peer further down the alley. How had she done that? She was right there. Maybe you’d already started your climb? His eyes travelled up the side of the wall, but found nothing.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at brat? C’mon, we’re leavin’,'' Kenny strode past him, roughly tugging him along. But Levi wasn’t looking where he was going, silver eyes still glued to that alley, waiting for her to emerge. But she never did.

A harsh knock on his door snapped him out of his memory spiral. How long had he been sitting here? Usually he had a good grasp on time but right now it could have been four in the morning or two in the afternoon. Running a hand down the side of his face, he went to sip his tea, grimacing as the now cold liquid graced his tongue. Setting it down almost immediately, he would have forgotten anyone knocked on his door in the first place had they not knocked again.

“Levi? Are you in there?” Erwin. Great.

“The fuck do you want Eyebrows?” Erwin clearly took that as permission to enter. Not that he needed permission.

Levi raised his eyes as his Commander strode in, pushing the door closed behind him.

“I was wondering if you managed to get information out of our little criminal.”

Levi’s jaw flexed.

“No.”

“Nothing?” Erwin seemed a little surprised and Levi couldn’t for the life of him think why. He didn’t know about your relationship, and it wasn’t like he was well practiced in his social skills.

“Nothing. She’s refusing to say anything other than annoying, sarcastic quips.”

“You two aren’t so different then.”

“Oi,” Erwin chuckled at Levi’s low warning, holding up an apologetic hand.

“Apologies, forgive me. It was just a joke,” Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as Erwin took a seat on the leather sofa, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I’m surprised. I thought you two may get along. Considering your shared upbringing,” if he wasn’t talking to Levi, anyone else would have thought it was an innocent enough assumption. But over the years, Levi had learned Erwin’s tells, and knew when there was something deeper going on. But still, there was no way he could know about your literal shared past.

“She’s abrasive, rude, cocky and thoroughly unpleasant. Why on earth would we get along?” Levi knew he was lying through his teeth. Whilst yes, you were in fact abrasive, cocky and rude, you were far from unpleasant. He wouldn’t have shared his heart with you if you were.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he looked incredibly tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Did you know her? From your time down there. Did you two ever run into each other?” straight to the point, it seemed. Erwin hadn’t missed the Captain’s flash of recognition back when you’d taken your mask off. He hadn’t missed the way he froze to the spot.

But Levi wasn’t about to open up to anyone, especially not the same Commander that had dragged him kicking and screaming into the Scouts.

Truth be told, after that first interaction, Levi had tried his damndest to see you again at every opportunity. He’d never been shown that sort of kindness since his mother died, and he didn’t want your little spark to be snuffed out by the Underground. He didn’t speak to you very often, only silently offering to walk you home at night, warding off any unwanted attention a young woman would draw.

He offered to share his small home with you when you were both around fourteen. It had been two years since Kenny abandoned him, and he noticed you looked directionless, and though it had taken a while for you to open up, he was happy for you to stay with him until you found somewhere else.

He just never expected to fall in love with you, or for you to fall in love with him.

“No. I’ve never seen her before,” Levi lied, keeping his eyes trained on the same document he must have been staring at for the last god knows how long, too lost in his own mind to concentrate.

Erwin wasn’t quite as good at reading Levi, and so accepted that as his truthful answer.

“Very well, I bid you a good night, Captain,” ah. So it was nighttime. Noted.

“Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow,” Levi waved his hand dismissively, once again earning another chuckle from Erwin as the door was pulled shut.

Levi almost instinctively reached for his tea again, only just remembering it was stone cold. He sighed in irritation, rising from his chair. He didn’t think there was enough tea in the world to help him sort through his thoughts. But damn if it didn’t make it easier.

Rolling his now stiff shoulders, he picked up the cold brew and headed to the kitchen. It was going to be a long night.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Sleeping in the Underground City was a luxury. Despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. You assumed you must have dozed off for an hour at least before the faint sound of multiple footsteps had you sitting bolt upright, your muscles barking in protest. You were always aware of your surroundings. Always ready, even when you may look like you were resting.

You didn’t quite know what to expect, quickly running through several scenarios and possibilities in your head. One of those possibilities rounded the corner from the stairs. Four MP soldiers now stood outside your cell, one jiggling the keys into the lock. Immediately you stood, not going down without a fight. Though it wasn’t much of one. Before you had even landed a proper blow on any of them, you were harshly kicked to the floor. Your body having not woken up properly yet, you were easy enough to subdue as they clasped your wrists together in front of you with rope. Not what you were expecting but it was more comfortable than behind your back.

You stayed silent as they dragged you further deeper into the complex of jails and cells. You didn’t imagine they would span this far beneath what you assumed was the headquarters, but nonetheless you kept walking until you were faced with a wooden door. The same soldier fiddled with the lock until it swung open and you were kicked inside.

Raising your head, you saw the room wasn’t exactly empty. An array of bats and blunt trauma objects rested against the far side of the wall, but that wasn’t what threw the spear of terror into your heart.

A single, iron hook extended down from the ceiling. It looked like it would be used for bleeding or drying meat, but you could think of several other uses for it. For example, your current situation.

The door locking behind you had your head whirling, eyes darting from the man with the key to the wood that now trapped you inside.

“Ah, Raven. I’m sure our commander forewarned you about this, I don’t really know why you look so surprised,” you shivered at the fake pleasant tone, a stark contrast to the way you were now being tugged to your feet, arms thrown up above you. You realise now why they used rope instead of chains, your wrists being hooked up above you. Your feet now only just grazing the floor, head falling between your shoulders with your loose thin shirt riding up your stomach. You suddenly regretted shedding your leather jacket earlier, wanting to be a little more comfortable as you attempted to sleep.

“We have strict instructions not to permanently damage you, however we have various other methods,” one of your torturers stalked behind you, reaching up to twist the hook so you spun with him, now facing the wall of weaponry. The other three who had accompanied you all leant against the wall to you right, as if waiting for their turn. “I thought I would be kind enough to let you choose which we start with. Since you’d be the one on the receiving end,” the sick fuck. He was really enjoying this wasn’t he?

“At least tell me what you fucking want,” you spat, thrashing slightly in your bonds. The man simply laughed, crossing to the selection.

“Oh, we don’t want information. Just for you to suffer as much pain as we did when you killed our comrades,” ah, so they had personal connections. Understood.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” your crooked, satisfied grin faltered as his expression darkened, crossing the room towards you in a few strides. Roughly grabbing your chin, he forced your head up to meet his gaze as you writhed in his tight grip.

“You know, you were quite the formidable criminal down there. Slaughtering and murdering whoever you pleased. Harming those who had done nothing to you. But look at you now, strung up like a squealing pig. Fuck, if it isn’t satisfying to see,” he threw your head back down before driving his foot into your gut. The impact sent you swinging backwards, saliva flying from your mouth.

Raising your eyes, you shot him a visceral glare as he browsed his collection of weapons as if he was picking out a pastry at a bakery. Opting for the classic wooden bat, you braced yourself for the night to come, knowing it was going to be a long one.

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part Ten - Capture)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation 8. Recovery 9. Retreat 10. Capture

This part is much shorter than all the previous parts because it called for a cut where I cut. The next bit will be longer, I promise (it already is and I haven’t finished it yet - yes, Steampunk has been distracting me, but I have a weekend coming up :D )

As always, many thanks to @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ @vegetacide​ and @tsarinatorment​ for all their amazing support. I can’t do this alone with out my cheering squad dragging me out of the doldrums from time to time, so I owe them many thanks for all their help and support.

And thank you to Thunderfam in general who have kept me writing for nearly three years now. Fandomversary is coming next month ::rubs hands together::

I hope you enjoy this and my apologies for everything.

-o-o-o-

Commander Tracy glared around the room. Three of his brothers stood alert and geared up while Gordon looked ready to ignite on the spot.

Scott threw up a hologram of the director’s location. “We will enter through the drilled access way. I will pilot Dragonfly Two. Virgil, you’re with me and on medical.” He eyed his engineer brother, wary of his condition, but Virgil stood straight and nodded. “Alan, you’re in Dragonfly Three riding medical transport. John, you’re backup. Stay on Thunderbird Three unless you are needed.” God, he hoped he wasn’t. “This is a dart in and out operation. We will not be staying for any longer than necessary. I don’t trust this situation at all and I am not willing to risk-“

“What about Ju?” Grae’s voice was near frantic.

Scott turned to him, not unsympathetic. “Your wife is a priority, Commander, however, we will secure Director Berrenger’s safety first. If there proves to be an immediate opportunity to rescue the second life sign, we will. We have not given up. I can promise you that.” He set his shoulders even straighter than they were. “We will find her.”

The Base Commander blinked, his composure unsteady, but he said nothing further.

Scott was grateful.

“Dad and Uncle Lee, you will stay here, as will Gordon.”

Gordon swore under his breath and Scott frowned at him. Their father opened his mouth, but Commander Tracy turned and glared and the man shut it again.

Uncle Lee played eye tennis between the two of them.

“Everyone clear?” If he was abrupt, he felt the situation called for it.

That and the throbbing of his head.

But the nods of his team reassured him somewhat.

“Then let’s do this. Thunderbirds are go.”

-o-o-o-

The tunnels were becoming all the same.

Alan had flown them out here again and, working around the reminder of Four’s broken shell, they redeployed two of the dragonflies. Scott still didn’t have a blue pod, but green was a step closer.

He flung himself and his brother down the hole in the moon and through those tunnels yet again.

They still sparkled enough to burn a hole in the back of his skull. Fantastic for the headache.

“Virgil?”

“What?”

Scott blinked. “You okay?”

“If you refer to my previous seven replies to that question, I suspect you will find the information you are looking for.” Virgil’s tone was positively acidic.

Scott’s lips thinned as the tunnel walls darted past. “No need for snark.”

“No need to ask me eight times in the last fifteen minutes.” A sigh. “I have a headache. I’m tired. But I am fine. Status unchanged within the last two minutes. Stop worrying.”

The dragonfly darted out into Dry Cavern and hooked into the comms beacons leading into the right tunnel to Crystal Cave. Alan darted in close behind.

“I’m your brother, it’s my job to worry.”

“Waste less grey hairs on me, then. I’m fine.”

White ice reared up on one side of the tunnel and Scott’s eyes widened. His memory of that event wasn’t clear and it was confronting. He and Virgil had been buried in this?

As if to answer, the pod darted past two very obvious excavations, the last being Virgil’s was much deeper than the first.

And Virgil wondered why Scott worried so much?

He tipped the dragonfly sideways to fit it through the last of the tunnel that was mostly full of that ice still and broke through into Crystal Cavern again.

The pod’s spots lit up the ever still lake and the crystals in the walls.

And a body on the beach.

John had kept the line of communication to the director open, but she was disorientated and it became very clear that she was unable to receive or hear them at all.

She kept calling for help, muttering about the water hurting, and very little of what she said made any great deal of sense. Hence Scott bringing Virgil. They all had paramedic training, but Virgil had the most.

Didn’t mean Scott was going to let him out of his sight.

She had ceased talking by the time they landed Three. International Rescue only attempted to move faster.

Scott spun the dragonfly around and settled it quickly onto the rock ledge. The director was sprawled on her belly at the edge of the water, next to one of the large crystal formations.

Virgil was moving before Scott had fully settled the pod. His brother flung open the hatch and clambered out, first aid kit in hand, apparently not caring that the last time they were here they had nearly been swept to their deaths.

Scott followed a touch slower, eyes on the environment. “Thunderbird Five, any change?”

“No movement, Thunderbird One. Monitoring.”

Alan settled the second pod down quietly beside Scott as the commander climbed out and strode to where Virgil was running a scanner over the prone space-suited figure.

“Dehydration. Her suit is out of supply. I’m also getting some major stress indicators, but otherwise, nothing broken...” Virgil frowned. “There is some intracranial inflammation.” His brother paused, frown deepening. “Both of her eardrums are ruptured. There is a little bleeding.” That explained why she couldn’t hear them. Virgil tapped the scanner. “We can move her.” He began unfolding a hover stretcher.

“FAB.”

Together they gently lifted the unconscious woman onto the support and Scott turned to tow her towards Dragonfly Three.

John yelled in his ear. “Scott, I’m reading movement!”

But it was Alan yelling Virgil’s name that had Scott spinning.

His brother had stopped to pick up the medkit. As Scott turned, Virgil moaned and folded to the ground.

Behind him, what could only be described as a water tentacle reared out of the surface of the lake and reached for Scott’s prone brother.

Scott didn’t think. Propelling the hoverstretcher in the direction of the pods, he threw himself at Virgil.

Time slowed. The tentacle wavered, thickened and loomed over the both of them as he hauled Virgil into a hurried fireman’s carry and made to run for the pods.

But the thing reached out and snapped around Scott’s legs, toppling him. With the strength of a man attempting to save a brother, Scott heaved Virgil with everything he had, throwing him bodily further up onto the beach.

Clawing at rock, Scott was dragged bodily across the ledge and sucked into the water. A brief sense of falling, fading light and a sharp pain took everything away.

-o-o-o-

Next

[drabbles-of-writing]

Meet Me in the Void (pt 3)

This is part of my Fallen AU Part 1, Part 2

AO3

Masterpost

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

Purple either has to be remarkably stubborn or ridiculously inhuman, because Luz is pretty sure any regular human, or even witch, would’ve collapsed from blood loss at this point.

She decides it's probably a bit of both.

Purple had insisted on moving as soon as their injuries were bandaged up. Luz protested, but clearly, when Purple had an idea in their head, they couldn’t quit. Because despite that, Purple still got up and limped their way through the trench. Luz couldn’t do much but follow. Or, really, lead.

Every few minutes Luz would stop and turn around, seeing that Purple had fallen back a bit and was struggling to keep up. And Luz found Purple was...a lot less intimidating. Obviously, because of the whole injured thing, but they had taken off their cloak and wrapped it around their side, leaving them just in black. They seemed far skinnier than Luz imagined, like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Who knows, maybe those animals who made themselves look bigger had the right idea on intimidation.

But back to the topic at hand.

Luz would insist on slowing down whenever Purple seemed to take an extra minute to catch up, but at this point, they’d stopped responding. Luz figured they were just tuning her out.

So, clearly that wasn’t going to work. But what else was Luz supposed to do? Walk in awkward silence for hours on end? She’d rather try to climb the trench with her bare hands. 

And for the dozenth time in half an hour (she thinks, time is weird when you're underground and lost in a ravine), Luz was leaning against the wall of the pit, arms crossed as she waited for Purple to limp their way over.

“So,” She started. Upon no reaction from Purple as they continued limping by, she took it as a go-ahead. “Do you have a name?”

Purple finally looked up at her (progress!), giving her a tired look. They then went right back to limping, now beginning to pass Luz.

“...okay, no name then.” Luz said, pushing off the wall and deciding to walk slowly alongside them. “Is it cool if I call you Purple, then? Cause that’s kind of what I’ve been doing lately.”

Purple blinked, or at least gave the impression of it, and looked over at Luz incredulously. 

“So I’m not original, sue me.” Luz mumbled, shoving her hands into her pockets. “You got a preference for something else?”

Purple grumbled a few throaty clicking sounds, turning their head back to paying attention to what was in front of them.

“Well, I can’t pronounce that, so I think Purple will have to suffice.” Luz said simply.

She could’ve sworn the light chuffing sound Purple made was almost a laugh.

The silence started up again, and Luz reached for anything to talk about. Or, ask, really. It was a little hard to keep up a conversation with someone who couldn’t talk, but she could make this work.

“I’ve also just been calling you a they,” Luz started, waving her hand around. “Is that alright, too?”

Purple glanced over at her again, and Luz got the feeling they very much didn’t want to entertain her questions or pestering. To their credit, they weren’t outright ignoring Luz anymore.

“Do you go by he?” Luz guessed, kicking at the small pebbles beneath her feet in some attempt to not have to focus solely on the conversation. “She?”

Purple raised a claw, chirping as they pointed at Luz and nodded. Praise them for using gestures that Luz could understand.

“You're a she?” Luz guessed. Purple nodded calmly, going right back to dragging herself over the stones.

Luz resisted the urge to pump a fist in the air. She was getting somewhere! Purple seemed to not have an aversion to yes or no questions, probably because they were easy to answer, so if she just kept asking those, she could maybe not get murdered after all this.

Or at least be entertained for a while.

“Uh, lets see,” Luz thought aloud, searching for questions. “Well, since we’re down here, did you see where anyone else fell off?”

Purple shook her head, not bothering to look over at Luz this time.

“Not even the other two Chasers?” Luz inquired. “Actually, do they have names, too? I never managed to get any for them. We kind of just identify those two as ‘the one with darts’ and ‘the one with the rivet.’” 

Purple snorted, raising a brow as she looked to her side, where her needle was resting on her belt. She pointed to the needle, then to her, with a faint amused air to her.

“What, you think we should’ve called you Needle?” Luz huffed. “That...huh,” She paused. “That actually might’ve been more creative than Purple.”

Purple snickered, Luz was sure of it this time, their body shaking slightly with a laugh. Luz will admit, she felt quite proud of her feat. For a solid five seconds.

The movement made Purple wince, and she hunched her shoulders as she stopped in her tracks, hissing.

“Crap, are you alright?” Luz fretted, stepping closer. “I told you, we really should rest, that wound could--” 

Her hand brushed Purple’s shoulder, and it was like a switch was flipped.

Purple snarled, a feral, guttural noise Luz would be terrified to hear at night. And was more than a little scary to hear in the moment.

Purple jerked away from Luz, claws unsheathing as she stumbled right towards the edge.

Luz was somehow thinking clearly enough to sharply back away instead of reaching out, fearing the Chaser would fall right off into the Void.

And, thankfully, Purple didn’t take a step too far. The edge of her heel went over the edge for barely a moment, pebbles clicking and falling silently in the blackness beneath them. It was enough for Purple to look back and retract her foot.

Once again, the Void almost seemed to reach for her, like a hundred hands towards a raft in the middle of a sea. Though none were close enough to be anywhere near actually grabbing her.

Luz swallowed and Purple stepped away from the ledge, shaking herself and tightening her hold around her wounded side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

Purple growled, glancing at Luz before straightening up somewhat, though it was clear doing so completely would be too painful. With a gruff and a sharp turn of her head, she went right on walking (poorly so). At a much brisker pace this time.

Luz, who personally didn’t want to see how else Purple would react if further prodded, resigned to keeping her mouth shut and shuffling after her.

Well, at least she had made some progress.

,

The next pits of walking were far more silent than earlier. Luz wasn’t even rambling or saying something brief to break the anxious silence like before. She didn’t even bother walking ahead of Purple, even though her regular pace was still faster than hers. Being in Purple’s line of sight and having to wait for her seemed like a death sentence at this point.

Purple either knew Luz was doing this on purpose or didn’t care, because she hadn’t looked back once. Only hobbling along and growling quietly if she stumbled, to which Luz had to bite her tongue and let happen.

It continued like that for what seemed like an eternity, though now that Luz thought back, it was probably about fifteen minutes or so. And Luz had been so wrapped up in feeling awful for startling Purple that she hadn’t noticed said Chaser had stopped moving.

It was a miracle Luz managed to realize it in time before walking right into her, giving a small squeak as she jumped back.

Purple glanced back, for the first time, with nothing short of an annoyed glare.

“Uh, sorry,” Luz mumbled with a shy smile. “What’s the hold...up…”

Luz trailed off as she peered around the assassin. There, in front of them both, was nothing but a gaping hole straight into the Void.

The large jut of rock they had been walking across had ended, leaving a sizable gap before them. There was another ledge a few feet in front of them, though it was also well above the height of their current standing. Not an impossible jump, but Luz was a little antsy about someone as banged up as Purple trying to traverse it.

Purple paced, limping to the side as she looked between their ledge and the one above and across from them. Her eyes were narrowed, and she made a lot of odd steps as she tried to figure out how to make the leap.

Luz, meanwhile, was pretty sure she could make it in one bounce.

Easily? No, but she was fairly certain she’d made worse before. And Purple was definitely going to have some trouble getting over that.

So Luz took a few steps back, sizing up the gap between the two ledges. This would be a lot easier with her sword, but it would have to do.

Purple chirped quietly as she looked between the distance. Her hand went to her needle right as Luz crouched down, bunching up her legs.

Now, were anyone else here, they probably would’ve caught on right away to Luz’s (heart-attack inducing) plan. But fortunately for her, none of her friends were here right now. And Purple had yet to get used to how impulsive Luz’s plans could be.

So when Purple turned around, she had no time to prepare or stop Luz as she took off straight towards the gap between the ledges.

Purple’s eyes widened and a sound similar to a cat’s wail and yelp came from her as Luz leapt off at the very end of the rock, completely untethered in the air for a few seconds. Right before she slammed, rather harshly, into the other jut of stone.

“Woo!” Luz cheered, despite the fact that only her hands had a good grip, and half her body was dangling precariously over the Void.

Purple was now rapidly pacing across the rock she was still on, sounding like a strained, slightly less painful chalkboard. Luz paid no heed, instead moving her feet around to try and get a good grip on the rocks to hoist herself up.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Luz called (rather optimistically) behind her.

Purple’s distressed calls didn’t cease, neither did her lopsided pacing. It took a few more agonizing moments before Luz had managed to get her foot caught on a nook in the rocks and heave herself up, rolling over onto her back once she did so.

“I’m okay!” She assured, not even bothering to lift her head as she caught her breath, calming from her adrenaline rush.

Then, and only then, did Purple finally stop. Luz sat up then, looking down and seeing a thoroughly pissed off witch (if Purple counted as one) glaring up at her.

“Oh, so you can walk for hours on end while bleeding out, but when I jump a gap, suddenly it's an issue?” Luz demanded.

Many loud, chittering squawks came from Purple as she began waving her hands around and gesturing to Luz, her irked tone not lost on the human in the slightest. She still held the needle, and Luz was rather grateful she wasn’t within stabbing distance.

“Yeah, yeah, should’ve warned you,” Luz mumbled, crawling to the edge of the ledge. “But look on the bright side! Now I can help you cross over. So I’d say it was worth it.”

Luz swears she saw Purple’s eye twitch.

And then, immediately after, Purple raised the needle in her hand and stepped back. Luz knew that stance well enough and quickly backed away.

In a mostly fluid movement, she threw the needle like a spear almost towards the exact spot Luz had been sitting. It embedded into the stone right below where Luz had been, albeit not very deep. Either Purple’s aim was failing, or the rocks were very tough down here.

“Is that a good ide--”

Luz was cut off by Purple giving her a dirty look, and Luz slowly shut her mouth. Right, not her place to bring up how bad an idea is.

Purple tugged on the string connecting her belt to her needle, experimentally testing it out. Luz, fairly certain that needle would hold about as well as the first time Purple tried that stunt, made sure to grab the other end of it with her hands. A safety-line of sorts.

Purple seemed exasperated but didn’t argue. Instead, she crouched at the edge and bunched her legs up like a cat underneath her. One wrist had the string loosely wrapped around it, her hands free to become clawed and grip the stone underneath her.

With far more grace than Luz, Purple sprung.

Granted, it was as much grace as someone bleeding from two injuries could muster.

Purple hit the rock, a little lighter, and instantly dug her claws in and gave a hiss, coiling in on herself. Luz winced, that had to hurt.

Purple was quick to begin pulling herself up, and Luz began to offer her hand for a moment before deciding better of it and scooting to the side. She gave the Chaser room as she kept her hands tightly around the safety needle.

The assassin flopped onto her front when she climbed up, her feet hanging off the edge as she deflated with a groan. Luz, who felt assured Purple wouldn’t roll off to her demise, wiggled the needle for a few moments until it popped loose. She set it down before looking back to Purple, crawling closer until she was peering over the bug.

One of Purple’s eyes opened, landing on Luz. Her ragged breathing slowed then as she growled and pushed herself onto her knees. Luz didn’t move back, instead gazing over Purple’s side and noting that the cloak had gotten dirty once more.

“You should probably change that up again.” Luz mentioned, a lot more casual than one should probably be when next to an upset assassin.

Purple grumbled, flicking her wrist that was still wrapped up in the string. It quickly brought the needle closer to her, and in one movement, Purple had grabbed the needle and raised it to Luz’s face.

Luz instinctively stiffened, the point of the needle pressed right on the bridge of her nose. Luz crossed her eyes to look at the point.

“So,” Luz said with a click of her tongue. “I take it...you're still mad at me?” She guessed sheepishly, her eyes uncrossing for a moment to look towards Purple, who seemed like she was debating if she was too tired to be bothered.

Instead, Purple sighed and pushed at the needle, causing Luz to lean and then stumble back so as to avoid getting a new injury on her face.

Which ended up not working when Purple gave one last tiny push and pierced the skin between Luz’s eyes.

“Ow!” Luz yelped, jerking away and pressed a hand to the wound. Purple snickered and sat back, strapping the needle to her belt.

It wasn’t bleeding very much, barely anything really, but Luz was still miffed. Purple didn’t seem to care and rolled to her feet, muttering as she shuffled towards the stone wall.

Luz blinked, watching her from where she sat as Purple flopped against the wall, already messing with her cloak wrapped around her injury so she could press slightly-cleaner cloth against it.

“A...are we resting now?” Luz asked incredulously.

Purple raised a brow, looking around and gesturing with a hand as though the answer were obvious and not at all a legitimate question in these circumstances.

“Seriously?” Luz groaned. “I ask you to break for hours, and all I have to do to get you to take a break is to be quiet for fifteen minutes? Or was it the reckless behavior that made you decide it's time to have a break?”

Purple puffed with a shrug, and Luz had a sneaking suspicion she was grinning under that mask. If there was anything under the mask. Maybe it was just void, that’d be cool.

The assassin then gestured with her claws to a spot a couple feet from her, even snapping her claws in emphasis. Luz, who was in a mix of being excited that Purple didn’t appear to want her gutted and very mildly annoyed, decided it was alright to talk more.

“What, think I’m going to dive off headfirst for fun?” Luz grumbled, though she did get up and walk to the spot Purple wanted her to sit in.

Purple nodded calmly, to which Luz gave an offended gasp. 

“I’ll have you know that I have some impulse control,” Luz scoffed with mock-annoyance. “And I am honestly appalled that you’d think otherwise.”

Purple looked at her strangely then, her head tilting like she was looking between Luz and whatever else was around them. As though she were confused at Luz’s dramatized outrage.

“I…” Luz hesitated, but decided she’d already made enough bad decisions that she could risk looking like a further idiot by guessing incorrectly. “You know I was joking, right?”

Purple’s brows raised at that (mimicking doing so, really), humming in realization. She looked far more assured before nodding and going back to re-tying her cloak around her side.

So, Purple had a little trouble with sarcasm at times. Good to know.

Luz took the moment of calmness to look up the chasm. She could see faded lights from nearby towns shining just over the trench. Luz had no idea what time it was now, the Boiling Isles didn’t really have a sense of night and day, but she could figure that now was generally when most people were asleep. Though knowing Eda, she’d be wide awake right now. She’d always insisted the ‘normal time’ for everyone else was stupid.

“Do you think we’ll find the others?” Luz wondered aloud, turning her head slightly to the Chaser. “I’d say I’m pretty alright at finding wherever my friends run off to, but that’s usually because Eda leaves a wake of destruction in her path. You gotta be good with tracking to find us all the time, right?”

Purple didn’t respond, as per usual. But she did glance up to Luz, her claws twitching. Her shoulders seemed to raise, becoming stiffer as she looked out at the canyon they were in. She didn’t look at Luz as she shrugged and leaned back against the wall, one hand laying across her wounded leg and pressing at it.

“Do you need new bandages for your leg?” Luz asked, perking up and leaning just a bit closer. “I can help with--”

Luz cut herself off when Purple shrank away from her getting closer. There was still at least a two foot distance between them, and yet Purple coiled right back in on herself.

“Right,” Luz mumbled, moving back to her previous position.

And that was that, she supposed. 

Luz drew her knees close to her chest, noting that Purple had turned her back to her and was likely attempting to sleep. Or at least get some rest.

Luz figured she should probably try to rest, too. She had a lot more walking ahead of her. So she stretched her legs out, using her hands as a pillow on the very uncomfortable ground.

“Night, guys.” She whispered to no one in particular. Nobody around right now, at least.

Silence answered her.

[fireheartfaery]

Day 3: "Well I wasn't going to do that."

masterlist; my links

canon-compliant

CW: blood

Manon wakes up to darkness. She can feel a soft body, breathing gently, at her back and the itchy scrape of grass on her legs. They must have fallen asleep after their midday meal. Rubbing the late afternoon grogginess out of her eyes, she attempts to wake her beast up by gently stroking his belly. Abraxos purrs, snuggling deeper into himself and wrapping the protective wing around her tighter.

"Oh you big baby," She grumbles, and then pokes him in the side with a sharp iron nail. It's not enough to hurt, just to startle.

He wakes up with a yelp, growling at her. His own claws pierce the ground, as if to say 'I've also got some and I'm not afraid to use it'.

"I did try to wake you up gently," She raises a brow, "Don't look at me all betrayed."

He responds by huffing and unfurling his wing.

The world is bright, brighter than she would have expected at this time. The realization that summer is fast approaching the continent is not a welcome one. She prefers the cool nights and snowed terrain. But nonetheless the setting sun is beautiful, a tapestry of gold and red and purple. Her heart clenches ever so slightly at the thought that Asterin would have loved it, would have probably made them stop training or whatever they were doing and appreciate the glowing world.

She doesn't have time to think on it any further because Abraxos let's out a low growl, one she can feel through the ground. He's on guard. Someone's here.

Immediately her iron nails flick out, her teeth slicing at her gums as they protrude. Her wyvern bristles his wings, spikes catching broken shards of light, and stares unmoving at the cluster of trees before them.

She slips into a predators state, as lethal and terrifying as the beast beside her.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are?" Her voice is all witch, all killer.

There's a rustling, she takes a step closer. A branch cracks, Abraxos snarls. A string of curse words bounce around the forest, she frowns. And then a girl, as small as Elide, stumbles out, hopping on one foot, her bow tucked over her shoulder haphazardly.

There is a strange smell coming from her, like human... mostly. But under it, power. So much power. And it is ever changing. Like a river’s course. Abraxos smells it too because he sniffs curiously and starts padding towards the stranger.

They don't notice, too busy attending to their injured foot, which seems to be bleeding if the gods-awful stench of exposed blood is anything to go by.

The wyvern is right by their head, and he takes a long sniff, as if burying his nose in his precious flowers.

The girl screeches, falling onto the ground with a painful thud. The beast takes the chance to pounce, shoving his admittedly large, obviously lethal maw toward her much smaller, much softer body.

Manon can see the fear in her eyes.

"Can you call your monster off?" They stammer.

Abraxos takes the opportunity to open his mouth, as if to eat her whole. She watches the theatrics in amusement.

The girl, braver now, attempts to wriggle her way out, already reaching for her bow, which had been flung to the side when she fell.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Manon attempts to hide the feral grin threatening her lips.

"Then what exactly do you suggest I do?" The girl snaps.

She shrugs, as if she couldn't care less what the outcome of this little kerfuffle is, "Either your worst or your best."

The girl opens her mouth, blue eyes flaring with anger.

Manon releases her smile, "Although I suggest not doing your worst. He has very sharp teeth."

"Well I wasn't going to do that." She growls, "But thanks for the advice." She starts wiggling again, trying and failing, to remove herself from under a wyvern the size of a small village.

Abraxos pays no mind as he continues to explore this strange new person and their even stranger scent.

"What are you?"

"Excuse me?" The disbelief in their voice makes Manon laugh— an unusual rusty sound, but welcome all the same.

"You do not smell fully human," She frowns, moving slightly closer, "That is why he is sniffing you."

"I was born human but got turned fae when I died." She says it as if it's a question she's answered a million times. "Will you tell him to get off!" There is no patience in her expression. "My leg hurts and I need to make sure I'm not going to bleed out."

The witch makes a show of surveying her. "You're not."

And just when the girl looks like she's about to explode, eyes blazing, cheeks red as blood rubies, Manon strokes a hand down Abraxos' wing and mutters a command in his ear.

With a final whiff he shakes out his body and takes off to the skies.

"If it was that easy why didn't you do it in the first place?" She sits up, huffing.

"Since I no longer kill men for entertainment I've needed to find it elsewhere."

The glare she is given is enough to melt the Terassen snow. But a wince follows the heated expression and it tugs at something in Manon she hasn't felt in decades.

Crouching down she takes the girls leg in her arms and surveys the damage.

"What do you think you're doing?" She attempts to pull it back but the witch looks up, gold eyes narrowing.

Manon knows she didn't bring any supplies, this intending to be an afternoon trip only, so she resigns to tearing off strips of her undergarments hidden under her riding leathers to keep out the stubborn cold.

"What is your name?"

The girl is quiet for a beat, and Manon thinks she'd going to be stubborn about this too. But then she looks up and there's a curious look in those blue eyes.

"Feyre."

"Manon." She rips the linen. "Do you have water? Or better yet ale?"

The frown is back, and it is effort to stifle her laugh. "I was out hunting, I don't drink." She dumps some water over her leg, watching rivulets of blood flow down the skin and onto the ground.

"What were you hunting for?"

"Information."

Manon hums, tying the cloth around the cut. "Did you find it?"

The girl's— Feyre's skin is smooth, and cold to the touch.

"I found you," She says it as if she hasn't quite decided if that's worth something or not, "And your beast." She shudders.

"He is a wyvern."

"He is nosy."

The witch laughs at that, and it surprises her enough that she laughs harder. And when she looks to Feyre, expecting to see a scowl, she is pleasantly surprised with a soft, half smile. It makes her look so completely different. It makes her look beautiful.

A screech from above ricochets them back to reality, and they are stumbling to their feet, awkwardness and curiosity and embarrassment already pulling them to opposite sides of the clearing.

Abraxos lands with a soft thud, and proceeds to hunch down, as if waiting for Manon to get on.

"My stead demands we're off." She rolls her eyes.

"Thank you," Feyre gestures to her leg.

"I hope you find what you're looking for." She climbs on the wyvern.

Those blue eyes chase something untamable, as she picks up her bow and stares directly at her. "I think I already have."

Feyre disappears into the forest. And all Manon can think is maybe she’s found what she was looking for too.

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@nishlicious-01​

[boarix]

7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

3. Essential Personnel

Starring: Courier 6 Snowflake, Craig Boone and Rex (Fallout New Vegas (as part of the Wraith in the Ruins AU))

Trigger warnings: canon violence/language/gun use/animal injury/suggestive content

 “It’s a shit gun, Snow.”

“It’ll be fine, Bubba.”

“No.” Craig Boone’s headshake was a subtle motion, almost like he was working a kink out of his neck. He held the AMR out toward the courier, “It jams.”

“You mean, ‘it has jammed’.” Snowflake gave the other man his brightest smile, “That rifle has incredible power at long range…”

“I’d do better with mine, closer…”

“Nope, I need you to stay up here. You can see into the quarry, right?”

Snowflake was on a mission to collect the head of an alpha male deathclaw as proof to Chomps Lewis that Quarry Junction was clear as well as a clutch of deathclaw eggs for the ravishing leader of The Thorn, Red Lucy. His optimistic declaration of “two birds with one stone” wasn’t sitting well with his somber companion. Especially once Snowflake had told him the plan.

“The scope is fine. I just don’t think it’s safe for you to have me so far away.”

“Bubba, if shit goes sideways, I’m gonna need room.” He held his large arms out to either side, flexing.

Boone was unimpressed, “Take Rex with you.”

The dog had been intensely sniffing at a crack in the cliffside but trotted over to Boone as soon as he heard his name. The sniper, in turn, absentmindedly shouldered the enormous rifle to reach down to pat his flank.

“Well, I can’t do that. Who’s gonna have your back if we’re both down there?”

Boone pointed over his shoulder, “The mountain.”

Snowflake frowned down at the dog, “I guess so… you wanna come with daddy and go chase some lizards?” While the dog pranced about, barking enthusiastically, the courier did a last check on his equipment.

When he saw that the courier picked up his Blade of the West, (dubbed Butter Knife) Boone frowned critically, “You’re not taking that thing with you, are you?”

“Craig Daniel Boone, please stop nagging me!” He turned away to begin his careful decent from the cliff.

“My middle name isn’t Daniel…”

“It was a joke, Bubba.”

“No. Jokes are funny.”

 The plan was simple: using Stealth Boys, the courier would sneak past and count the resident deathclaws while locating the clutch of eggs. Along the way he would deploy frag mines, and then find his own perch to snipe from. They would each take one or two strategic shots to stir the reptiles up, and then eliminate the threat in relative safety. Or as Snowflake had put it, “It’ll be easy! Like shootin’ fish in a barrel.”

After politely telling the dog to stay, Snowflake activated a Stealth-Boy and crept along the narrow canyon and down into the quarry floor. He caught a whiff of deathclaw scat and followed his nose around a particularly large conveyer/excavator, laying mines as he went. Despite his earlier bravado he was still momentarily frozen when he turned a corner and came face to face with sleeping juvenile. He sucked in his breath as the beast grunted and shifted in its sleep. Satisfied that it was going to carry on in dreamland, he peered around its haunch and saw that its brethren were all in a similar repose.

Apparently, it was dragon nap time.      

Finally locating the eggs, he removed his shoulder bag and carefully packed them away. As he turned to head back to the excavator he was hit with a waft of the cloying smell of death and rot. The odor was sufficient warning and he dodged to his left as an enormous, sickle-shaped claw slashed through the air; missing him by a hair’s breadth. Abandoning stealth in favor of speed he sprinted toward the conveyor in the hopes that the beast wouldn’t be able to climb up the boom after him. The deathclaw reared back and bellowed, rousing its pack to war.

Shit may have been heading in an adjacent direction.

Not only was the deathclaw able to climb the conveyor belt, it was doing so much faster than Snowflake was. Dodging on the narrow platform while the creature took swipes at him took all of his coordination and he was too hard-pressed to get off a rifle shot. At a certain point he ended up hanging underneath while it tried in vain to poke its claws through the gap between the belt and the steel frame. Glancing down, he could see a rather large gathering of the lizards forming underneath him.

“Well, doesn’t that just rot yer socks…?”  

 Boone sat waiting for the signal shot. Switching between the gun scope and his binoculars he was muttering to himself in frustration, “Too damn long. Can’t see anybody. Where are you?” It never occurred to him to change position. After all, the courier told him to ‘stay’.

 Snowflake watched in frustration as the quarry’s full complement of deathclaws (save for his conveyer belt companion) avoided his mines and settled themselves beneath him, waiting for his arm strength to give out. He briefly considered whistling for Rex, but dismissed it just as quickly. Sure, the dog might have provided a useful distraction, but he might also be hurt and the courier would rather die than let that happen. Desperate times called for desperate measures, “Well, now that I have all y’alls attention, won’t you please consider this?” Letting go with one hand, he grabbed a frag grenade from his belt, pulled the pin with his teeth and dropped it.

Several of them leaped out of the way which triggered the mines which in turn triggered the vehicles and other machinery. Soon the entire quarry floor was flashing and shaking as one explosion after another rocked the very earth.

“Ooopsfuckingshit!”

 Boone was confused by the sudden light show. This wasn’t the signal that he and the courier had discussed. The percussive blasts reaching his ears snapped him back to his task and he looked through the AMR’s scope for his first target. The clouds of dust and debris made this nearly impossible and when he finally found a deathclaw to aim for, the gun jammed. Looking down at the useless rifle and then at the hellfire of the quarry, the sniper decided that, regardless of orders, Snowflake needed him.

Throwing the gun to the ground, he half ran, half slid, down the side of the ridge. The sharp rocks rolled up the sleeve of his uniform jacket and cut his arm in the process. Ignoring the wound, he drew his combat knife and sprinted as fast as he could toward were he judged the first explosion came from.

What he saw he couldn’t fully comprehend.

There was what appeared to be a glowing one fighting the few surviving deathclaws. Leaping, spinning and dodging, it was wielding Butter Knife in an expert display of swordsmanship. Slicing at the tendons in wrist, knee and ankle, they brought down several of the beasts, rendering them helpless. Then, to Boone’s further astonishment, they brandished Snowflake’s revolver, sending shot after shot into the open mouths and eyes of the creatures.

When the alpha charged the glowing warrior, they sent out an enormous blast of radiation causing the beast to stager and rear back from the heat. Then, taking advantage of the deathclaw’s exposed throat, they made several slices in rapid succession, the last swing causing the head to come free and fly in Boone’s direction. When the sniper stepped out of the way, the glowing one saw the movement from their peripheral and raised the magnum as if to shoot.

Sudden recognition froze Boone in his tracks as he stared into the unmistakable eyes of his friend. Rather than make an attempt to evade, he threw his arms out wide and flexed his chest toward Snowflake; as if asking him to shoot.

“Boone?!” Lowering the now melting revolver, the glowing courier slammed the remains of Butter Knife into the ashen quarry floor and leaned heavily against it, “What the fuck!”

“What do you mean ‘what that fuck’? WHAT THE FUCK TO YOU?!” Suddenly angry, the sniper yelled back at his friend, “ARE YOU… what… How are you doing that!?”

“Never mind this, did you just… what were you… do you know what it would do to me if I accidentally shot you?!”

“I just thought… that if it was you… I’d be okay with it being you.” Boone was so confused and mentally turned around; he didn’t know what to do or where to look and he stood awkwardly with blood dripping from his fingers.

“I need your help! I can’t do this without you! And that’s… that is not how I want to show my love for you, Boone.”

“You… love me?”

The halo of light around Snowflake had begun to diminish. It was becoming clear that all of his clothes, hair and a good portion of his skin had burned away. Exhausted, he dropped to his knees and would have fallen over, had Boone not rushed to catch him.

The sniper took off his jacket and tucked the other man into it, “What are you talking about?!”

Snowflake smiled up at him and when he spoke, his voice, although ragged, was closer to normal, “You’re my best friend; of course I love ya. You’re my brother, Boone.”

“Oh.” The sniper gave the courier a brief squeeze and looked around at the carnage, “This got messy. Where’s Rex?”

“You wrap up your arm, take some Rad-X and go look for him. I need to just… I have to lay here a minnit.”

After about an hour, Boone returned carrying both the dog (who despite having lost both of his rear cyber limbs, seemed to be pain-free and happy) and miraculously, Snowflake’s pack.

“I’m sorry super pup! Don’t worry; I know Raul can fix you up.” Snowflake was in a fetal position, trying to fit as much of himself as possible into Boone’s coat and his voice was muffled, “Ha ha, that rhymed!”

“Are you… going to be okay?”

“Sure. This isn’t the first time this has happened, you know? Although… I’m always afraid my hair won’t grow back. Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone? People wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t understand.”

 Boone went back up the cliff to retrieve the rest of their equipment (including spare clothes for Snowflake) and then the trio spent the night huddled together. In the morning, Snowflake’s condition had much improved and had even begun to grow back skin.

“Is that where your nickname come from? Why you wear gloves? From the scars?”

“Yes and no.” The courier was surprised and a little excited that Boone would ask him such personal questions, “I wasn’t nuclear for very long yesterday and these burns are… different. It’ll take a little bit but I should regrow most of what skin I lost yesterday. No, these…” he held out his hands and gestured to his face, “are from when I was a kid and my family’s wagon hit a land mine. I wasn’t in it; was riding our big horner, Ladd, alongside. The shrapnel cut me up real bad and I burned my hands trying to pull my brother from the wreck. Other families in our caravan took pity on me and would share their food, but their kids started calling me ‘Snowflake’ on account of all my little white scars.” His smile was forced, “No two alike!”

Boone was quiet for a moment as he studied the courier’s face. When he spoke his voice was soft, “Kids can be mean. Why did you keep the nickname?”

“Well, I figured I’d steal some of their fun by ownin’ it. Sides, ‘a snowflake in the desert’ sounds romantic, right? Who doesn’t root for the underdog?”

“Right.”

“Speakin’ of dogs; which would you prefer?” He gestured to Rex and then the severed head of the alpha deathclaw, “Doggy style or head?”

Boone rolled his eyes as he gathered the dog into his arms, “I’ll carry Rex, thanks.”

“Oh, c’mon, Bubba, that was a joke!”

“No. Jokes are funny.”

[waitineedaname]

Mystery Next-Door

my @homestuckss gift for @culturalbloominggirl!! I heard “jaderose” and “small towns” and my brain screamed “CHILDHOOD FRIENDS” so here we are! I hope you like it, and happy holidays <3

also on ao3

-

Jade Harley was the mystery next-door. 

She moved in on a crisp, cloudy November day with a multitude of overstuffed boxes, an older man with a moustache, and a large white dog. 

Rose Lalonde was immediately fascinated.

Like any curious six year old, she asked her mother a million and one questions. Who were they? Would their dog eat Jaspers? Why does she live with her grandfather and not her parents? 

Her mother, nursing a migraine, answered to the best of her ability. They're the Harleys, hun. I don't think their dog is going to eat Jaspers. I don't know why she lives with her grandpa. Why don't you go play with John and let mommy take a nap?

Rose put on her sneakers -- a point of pride that she could do it herself and John couldn't, even though they were the same age -- and left the house to give her mom some peace and quiet. She did not, however, turn in the direction of the Egbert house at the end of the block. Instead, she turned right and marched right up to the Harleys' front door.

With all the grown-up politeness she could muster, she rang their doorbell and waited. Behind the door, she heard a bright voice yell "I'll get it!" followed by the stomping of a child barreling down the stairs. In an instant, the door opened to reveal a young girl with a mess of dark hair and thick glasses.

"Hello," Rose said, attempting to put on the tone she heard her mother use when she had to be professional. "I'm Rose Lalonde. I live next-door."

The girl's mouth made a tiny "o" then split into a big grin. "Hi Rose! I'm Jade!"

Rose suddenly realized she had not planned this far ahead. "Um. Do you want to come out and play?"

"Yeah!" Jade's glee was evident. She turned to shout inside the house. "Grandpa! I'm going to play outside!"

"Bring Becquerel with you!" came her grandfather's answering shout. Jade giggled and stuck her fingers in her mouth to let out a sharp whistle. Rose blanched as she heard the clacking of claws as the large white dog she'd seen when they moved in came charging at Jade, bowling her to the ground. Jade shrieked with laughter, hugging the dog around its neck as he licked all over her face.

"Bec! No! Sit!" She laughed, eventually squirming out from underneath the dog. "Do you wanna pet him?" She asked, mistaking Rose's wide eyes for excitement instead of mild panic.

"...Does he bite?" Rose asked hesitantly. 

"No! He's a very good boy. Right, Bec?" Bec let out a deafening bark in response.

Filled with too much pride and curiosity to back down now, Rose outstretched a hand towards Bec. He sniffed her curiously, then licked her palm, startling a laugh out of her. Rose satisfied herself with a few pets behind his ears, then stepped back.

"Come on." Rose said, gesturing for Jade to follow her. "I'll show you the creek."

--

The creek was a staple of Rose's childhood. She and John had discovered it just outside their neighborhood on one of their first excursions together. It was just removed enough to give them the giddy feeling of freedom that rowdy children crave, while still being within shouting distance of their parents. It had been their place for years, and from the moment Jade first visited it with Rose, it was her place too. 

Jade was incorporated into their group immediately, morphing their duo into a trio with little fuss, and now that they were eight and all thick as thieves, it was hard to remember a time when she wasn't around.

The creek was the site of countless formative moments for the three of them. It was where Jade lost her first baby tooth. It was where John learned what poison ivy was. And it was where Rose realized her first crush.

It was a warm August evening, one of the few left of summer before they'd have to go back to school. Fireflies were lighting up the trees around them, and Jade had decided they should hunt for frogs.

Jade was far better at that kind of thing than John and Rose. Before her, most of their trips to the creek involved pretending to be wizards or Ghostbusters, balancing on the dryer rocks and pretending to blast each other with sticks. Jade was the one to introduce them to a brand new form of playtime found in collecting fireflies in their palms and chasing after lizards until they were out of breath and learning how to climb trees.

As expected, Jade managed to find twice as many frogs as them. Each pocket of her overalls gently cradled a frog, and her hands were slimy from all the ones she'd caught and let free. John had caught two, but they had both jumped out of his hands when he'd squealed with laughter at the cold feeling they left on his palms.

Rose had yet to catch a single one, and quite frankly, she was getting a little frustrated. 

“I dunno Rose, I think they must just have something against you.” John teased when the fifth frog in three minutes hopped out of her reach. She sent him a glare, and he grinned at her, full of playful meanness built on a friendship formed in toddlerhood. 

“How about I catch one for you?” Jade offered.

“I don’t need a pity frog.” Rose protested, but Jade was already splashing towards one of the banks of the creek. “Really, I don’t mind. Who am I to steal a hapless amphibian from his watery home? If he wants to continue his boring existence behind an algae-ridden rock, that’s his prerogative. In fact, I’m probably better off than you two because I’m not risking infecting my hands with a million frog diseases.”

“‘Bluh, I’m Rose and I read the thesaurus for fun and I think frogs are gross.’” John mimicked, pitching his voice up even though Rose was fairly certain his voice was already higher than hers. She huffed, and both John and Jade snickered. John plopped down in the mud on the side of the creek and started poking around for interesting rocks buried in the muck, and Rose contemplated joining him before Jade cried out in victory a few feet down.

“Got one!” Jade held her loosely clasped hands up and dashed back over to them as quickly as she could without slipping. “Okay, hold your hands like a little cup.” She instructed Rose.

Rose obliged, and Jade slid the frog into Rose’s waiting hands, quickly putting her own hands around Rose’s to guide her in closing her hands just enough to keep the frog from jumping out without crushing it in the process. Rose stared down at the creature peeking out between her thumbs, mystified. It wasn’t necessarily holding the frog that was getting to her, though the feeling of its rapid heartbeat against her palm was exciting. It was the realization that Jade had caught this frog specifically as a gift for her, and it was the feeling of Jade’s warm, dirt-covered hands wrapped around her own. It was looking up at Jade’s face and seeing her proud, buck-toothed grin, and it was the twigs that had inexplicably found their way into Jade’s curls, and it was the fireflies and dusk light painting flickering colors on Jade’s cheeks.

Rose’s heart leaped into her throat, and she suddenly found it harder to breathe.

In the exact same instant, the frog took advantage of her lapse in focus and took a leap of its own. The sudden movement startled Rose, and she yelped, stumbling backwards. Her foot skidded on the stone behind her, and she let out a sharp scream as she fell into the creekbed.

“Rose!” John and Jade shouted in unison, scrambling to help her up. They both took her by the upper arms and helped her to her feet, and she cried out in pain when the bruise rapidly forming on her hip made it hurt to stand. Her elbows were scraped from catching her fall, and the tears filling her eyes made her more pissed off than anything else. She wasn’t a little kid, she shouldn’t be crying about falling over anymore.

“I’ll get her mom!” John said, already sprinting in the direction of their houses, shouting, “Ms. Lalonde, Ms. Lalonde!”

“Do you want me to help you walk?” Jade offered gently. Rose sucked in a breath and willed the tears back into their ducts. She nodded and Jade wrapped her arm around Rose’s shoulders, guiding her out of the creek.

The bruise hurt like the dickens for the rest of the week, and her mother tsked when she saw the grime in her scrapes, but for a reason Rose couldn’t quite fathom, it was all made okay by Jade’s arm wrapped tight around her.

--

“I dunno Rosie, should I be worried about you goin’ to a sleepover with a boy?”

“Please, mother,” Rose rolled her eyes when she knew her mom couldn’t see them, emptying her backpack onto her bed, “It’s John. He doesn’t count.”

“Hm.” Her mother hummed a vague agreement from where she was leaning against Rose’s door frame. Rose knew her concerns about the sleepover were largely performative; she’d slept over at the Egbert house dozens of times before. “Isn’t that other boy going to be there? David or something?”

“Dave?” Rose scoffed, shoving pajamas into her bag. “As if I’d sink that low.”

“Aw, that’s mean.” She heard her mother sniff, and there was a beat of silence that Rose used to debate whether or not to bring any books. “I guess that just leaves Jade.”

Rose’s head snapped over to look at her for the first time in the conversation. She hadn’t mentioned her crush on Jade once in the four years she’d had it, and her mother hadn’t ever asked about it beyond superficial questions about whether she liked anyone at school. Despite that, there was inexplicably sharp look in her mother’s eyes, like she knew more than she was telling. She lifted her perfectly painted lips in a slight smile, then pushed herself upright off the door frame.

“Make sure to pack a toothbrush, okay sweetie?” She said, already halfway down the hall. Rose stared after her, speechless for a moment, then shook herself out of her stupor. She finished packing in a rush, and left with a farewell shout over her shoulder.

The walk to the Egbert house was one that Rose knew better than any other path, except perhaps the walk from her bedroom to the bathroom. She’d been playing at his house since before she could draw on a definite memory, and she and Jade had been sleeping over since their families had deemed them old enough. The only new player in their routine was Dave, who’d showed up at their middle school in sixth grade and immediately attached to John like glue, which of course meant getting attached to Rose and Jade in the process. The three of them were a package deal, and he was fortunate enough to be the right variety of awkwardly charming to fit right in.

Mr. Egbert was happy to host John’s friends, as always, and he was just as eager to embarrass him as well. As soon as they were all settled, he insisted on pulling out the photo albums under the excuse that it was Dave’s first time staying over, so he had to see them.

“Dad,” John complained, weakly trying to tug the photo album away from his father, “They don’t want to see that, come on. We’re just gonna go upstairs and watch movies, right guys?” He looked at his friends, hoping they’d back him up. He was immediately disappointed.

“I’d love to see baby pictures, thank you Mr. Egbert.” Rose said, smirking at John.

“Yeah, come on dude, Shrek can wait, I gotta catch a peep at these incriminatin’ pics.” Dave added immediately. “Who knows the next time I’ll get to see ‘em. Your whole house could burn down tomorrow, and I’d never have seen the dang things. I could spontaneously go blind in like three minutes and I’d be like ‘god, screw the Mona Lisa and sunsets, the thing I miss the most is being able to see my goober of a friend lookin’ even more like a goober because his brain was the size of a softball and he didn’t have the self awareness to know not to eat his own feet.’ All I’m saying, bro, is you gotta cherish your sight when you’ve still got it, y’feel me?”

“Oh! Mr. Egbert, you should show Dave that picture of John with the shaving cream!” Jade suggested helpfully.

“Yes, you absolutely should show me that one, oh my god, that was the best string of words you could possibly put together.” Dave was all but vibrating with restrained delight. John wailed dramatically and flopped backwards onto the couch.

“You’re all the worst. Sleepover cancelled, you can all go home. I hate you all.” He complained, face buried in his hands.

“We do this because we love you.” Rose said, patting his knee condescendingly. He slid his fingers off half of his glasses to glare at her. She considered laying the condescension on thicker, but she was interrupted by an outburst from Dave’s direction.

“Oh shi- shoot -- sorry Mr. E -- Rose, you’re in one of these.”

“What?” Rose squeezed in between Jade and Dave and discovered, to her horror, a picture of herself and John. Neither of them were any older than three, and they seemed to have raided each other’s dress-up chests. John was wearing an enormous grin and a tutu that Rose vaguely remembered her mother buying her when she was quite young, and Rose had donned a clip-on tie and was drowning in what she could only guess were Mr. Egbert’s shoes. She gaped in horror, and Dave laughed next to her. 

“Dude, look at you! Rose Lalonde: Business Toddler.” Dave shoved her playfully, and Rose felt she suddenly understood Cain when she pushed him back hard enough to make him stumble.

"I think you look cute!" Jade said, peering over Rose's shoulder. Embarrassment blended with flattery to create a smoothie of confusion in Rose's brain.

"Are we done?" John complained, still doing his best to merge with the couch cushions. His dad chuckled and nodded, shutting the photo album and waving them off. That was all the encouragement John needed to jump to his feet and practically teleport up the stairs, his friends hot on his heels.

Their attempt to marathon Shrek was mostly an excuse to hang out, and it made a pleasant backdrop to whatever shenaniganry they wanted to get up to that evening, which ranged from breaking out the nail polish Rose had swiped from her mother's stash to a slightly ridiculous game of would-you-rather. The evening passed in a happy rush and before Rose knew it, the moon was high in the sky and they were all snuggled into their sleeping bags. 

John was snoring gently, his hands stuck out of the sleeping bag because he'd been worried about smudging Rose's handiwork on his nails. Dave was the quietest any of them had ever heard him and still as a statue. Rose, however, couldn't get comfortable. She rolled and shifted and shoved her arm under her pillow and attempted to curl into a ball. No dice.

She was beginning to consider abandoning her sleeping bag to sleep in John's bed and deal with his bitching in the morning, but Jade's sleepy whisper stopped her.

"Rose?" She mumbled. Rose went still. "Are you still awake?"

"Unfortunately." Rose muttered back. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Mn, it's okay. I wasn't asleep." The grogginess in her voice made Rose suspect she might be lying, but she didn't call her on it. There was shuffling from Jade's direction, and Rose looked up to see Jade crawling out of her bag and grabbing her glasses. "Do you wanna go get some water?"

"...Sure." It wasn't like she was having any success languishing in her sleeping bag. Rose wiggled free of her plasticky cocoon, and the two padded out of the room as quietly as they could manage.

No matter how familiar the house was, Rose found that it always seemed different when all the lights were off and everyone was asleep. Not eerie like her ostentatiously decorated house or Jade's drafty old home -- she doubted the Egbert house could seem anything but homey -- but still strange, like she'd stepped into another dimension just by being up at an odd hour. 

They filled up their glasses with water -- Jade laughing when Rose accidentally closed the cabinets loudly and grimaced -- and then Jade was tugging her towards the door. 

"Come on. Let's look at the stars!" How could Rose say no to a request like that? Jade chose a spot in the grass with an amusing level of concentration, and she tugged Rose down to sit with her. Rose tried to give her a respectable amount of personal space, but Jade squished against her side immediately. Rose prayed the dim light from the moon hid her blush, but Jade wasn't paying attention, eyes on the sky.

"How much do you know about astronomy?" Jade asked, tone serious despite the contentedness on her face.

"I know the basics of what we learned in science class, and the names of a few constellations. Ursa major and minor, Orion, Sagittarius…" Rose trailed off. "I'm afraid I don't know where they are in the sky, though."

Jade hummed and tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her Squiddles-patterned pants and smiling up at the sky. "Grandpa bought me an astronomy book for kids for my sixth birthday. I read it all in one day and then insisted we go to the library so I could check out as many books about it as possible. I ended up reading books as big as I was," she said with a laugh. Rose snorted. She could imagine it so clearly: tiny little Jade, nose buried in a book about astrophysics.

"Well?" Rose challenged. "Share your knowledge, o scholar of the cosmos."

Jade giggled and studied the sky for a moment. She pointed first at a string of stars low in the sky. "That's Orion. You can tell by the three stars there, see? That's his belt. And over there is Monoceros, the unicorn."

Rose squinted in the direction Jade's finger pointed, but she couldn't see much other than Orion's belt. "How did the ancient Greeks come up with these names? A unicorn seems like something of a stretch."

Jade shrugged. "I don't know. It must have held some kind of meaning to them." She lifted her chin off her knees and instead laid her head on Rose's shoulder. "I think it's kind of amazing, really. I mean, they are just stars, billions of miles apart, but they looked into the sky and found something important to them. Don't you think that's beautiful?"

Rose took great care in keeping her breath even and not flinching away from how close Jade was. She pretended she was talking about the stars above her and not the ones she spied reflecting off Jade's glasses when she murmured, "Yes, very beautiful."

The soft smile that great on Jade's face made her suspect that maybe she knew what Rose meant anyway.

When they finally climbed the stairs back to the bedroom and whispered their goodnights, Rose fell asleep with stars under her eyelids.

--

Jade was the girl next-door, and Rose was hopelessly in love with her. It was a horrible cliche, and Rose had long since gone through all the stages of grief upon realizing she’d fallen into the cheesiest romantic trope fathomable. She’d been in the acceptance stage for a long time, if “acceptance” were synonymous with “resigning oneself to pining for years.” But dammit, Rose was sick of pining, and she was sick of trying to hide her crush. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed advice.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Eight goddamn years?”

Maybe she should’ve gone to someone else for advice.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.” Dave said, as if his shiteating grin weren’t just as bad. “God, I just need to savor this moment. You always tried to act like I was the mess in our group, but the whole time it’s been you.”

“Oh please, do not act like you aren’t guilty of your own pining.”

“Nuh-uh, nope, we’re not bringing this back around to me. We’re focusing on you bein’ a fucking disaster. Oh my god, you’re a disaster lesbian, how am I just now realizing this.” He leaned on the steering wheel of his car, holding back giggles.

Rose picked up a fry from the center console and hit his forehead with deadly accuracy. “If you continue to mock me without any attempt to help, I swear to every unholy deity ever fathomed by the human mind, I will dump this milkshake on your lap and send a picture to Karkat.”

“What? No, come on, that’s such an overreaction.” He said, leaning out of reach.

“There’s no such thing as an overreaction to you breaking the rules of our Burger King sessions.”

“Our Burger King sess- Bro, what? There have never been any fucking rules. These fast food seshes started ‘cause you got a goddamn coupon and I’m the only chump you know with a car. They just turned into a warped form of cheap therapy because you’re you. I don’t have to solve this.” 

Rose took the lid off her milkshake.

“Okay, jesus, I’ll help.” Dave tucked his legs up and leaned even further away.

“Thank you. How gentlemanly.” She calmly slid the lid back on her shake and took a sip from it.

“Yeah, you know me, all kinds of fuckin’ chivalrous. Always opening doors and helping blind ladies cross the street and giving disaster lesbians tips on how to deal with a crush they’ve had for almost a literal decade because clearly I’m the guy that can give advice on how to ask girls out even though I’ve literally never had a girlfriend, like what the hell’s up with that-”

“Dave.”

“Right, got it.” He sobered out of his ramble and grabbed a fistful of fries to eat while he thought. “What exactly are you askin’ me for?”

“Please, Strider. Use your brain. I know that might be a tall order considering the likelihood that it has lain dormant and collecting dust since the last time you used it for anything other than video games and inane comics, but even you must have some modicum of sense buried within your subconscious.”

“Yeah, you’re doing a real great job making me want to help.” She could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his shades, and it took all her willpower not to throw another fry at him. “Look, I say just tell her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could look me dead in the eyes and tell me she hates me with every fiber of her being. She has simply been pretending to like me for the past several years, but unfortunately, she finds my personality draining. In fact, spending any prolonged amount of time with me makes her feel like her soul is developing necrosis, and she has already filed a restraining order. I resign myself to packing my bags and moving to the coldest corner of Alaska to live out the rest of my days in complete isolation, feasting on the flesh of moose who, similarly, I destroy from the inside out by simply existing in close proximity with them.” Rose answered immediately. Dave stared at her blankly.

“That was insane. You do realize how fucking batshit you sound right now, right? Jesus christ, Rose, she’s not going to hate you, she’s Jade. I know you’re like physically incapable of doing so, but take the melodrama down a notch for a second, okay?”

“You asked for the worst.” 

“Yeah, and I was expecting shit like ‘rejection,’ but that was way too specific for you to have not thought that exact line of thought before, which, quite frankly, is terrifying.”

Rose shrugged. “It’s not my fault you didn’t know what you were asking for. Really, you should have expected as much.”

“I guess I should’ve, huh. Fucking hell.” He shook his head tiredly and pushed his shades up to rub his eyes. "Alright, I'll tell you what the worst case scenario is. Like you're playin' a dating sim and you've been fucking ruling at this game so far, but then you say one wrong thing and get the bad ending, that's what we're going for. Bad ending in this situation is she just says she doesn't like you like that. It'll probably be awkward for a while, but y'all are best friends, it'll smooth over. And if you don't tell her, you'll just be stuck like this, hoping something'll change even though nothing will. You'll never know what would've happened if you had just gone for it, and I know you, Rose. I know you don't like not knowing shit."

"And how do you suggest I go about this?" She said. What he said made sense, but she wasn't going to let him know that.

“Hell if I know. That’s the extent of my wisdom, take it or leave it.” He shrugged. “Just talk to her, dude. Y’all talk all the time. I’m pretty sure you’ll find a way to bring it up.”

It wasn’t as easy as Dave made it out to be. Maybe if she were someone else, she could just go through with it, but she was Rose Lalonde. It was in her nature to spiral at least three times before arriving at a more convoluted solution.

It was a painful month of pointed looks from Dave before she finally struck up the courage to do something about the feelings she’d be storing tight in her chest for so long. Honestly, what was a measly month compared to the eight years that had already passed?

The day was the special kind of sunny that followed a rainstorm, and Rose found herself wishing she still had the confidence of a six year old as she marched up to the Harleys’ front door. The doorbell’s chime echoed inside the house, and the door opened to reveal a familiar face, though not the one she’d expected.

“Ah! The young Miss Lalonde.” Jade’s grandfather smiled, jolly and charming as ever.

“Hello, Mr. Harley. I was hoping to see Jade.” 

“She’s in the garden.” He waved her inside, and she followed him through the winding house. “I thought you kids -- what’s the word -- instant messaged about these things. What with your newfangled cell devices.”

Rose had to bite her tongue to keep herself from calling him out for pretending to be less knowledgeable than he was -- she knew he used to run a technology company, he wasn’t fooling anyone -- but now wasn’t the time. “I wanted to surprise her. What’s the point of living next-door to your best friend if you can’t show up unannounced to disrupt her plans?”

That earned her a hearty guffaw. “Well, who am I to step in between such gestures of best friendship.” His eyes twinkled knowingly. “My little Jadelet talks about you all the time, you know.”

“Does she now.” Rose said, carefully neutral.

“Oh, yes. You should have heard the girl when she was little. It was ‘Rose, Rose, Rose’ all the time.” He winked, then opened the back door for her. “She’s out there.”

Rose thanked him awkwardly, then made her way to the garden. Jade was in the middle of her plot of absolutely mammoth sunflowers, deadheading and inspecting them with a look of concentration on her face. The moment she saw Rose, though, a huge grin broke out on her face.

“Rose!” Jade ran over to her, and Rose was relieved she’d put down the pruning shears before grabbing her in a tight hug. 

“Hello Jade.” Rose hugged her back and resisted the urge to bury her face in Jade’s hair and just stay there. “Sorry for coming over without warning.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m almost done gardening anyway. I was planting some bulbs for spring.” She said, guiding Rose over to an empty portion of the massive garden and gesturing to the freshly turned over earth. “We should have some pretty daffodils once March rolls around.”

“Well, I hope you’re not completely done gardening.” Now or never, Lalonde. “I brought something for you.”

Jade’s bright eyes were suddenly focused on her like lasers as Rose pulled out a handful of seed packets from her pocket. “Oh! For me?”

“Yes, well, I saw these and knew you were planning to expand your garden.” She said as though it had been a spur of the moment decision, not the result of meticulous research.

“Ooh, I love peonies! And carnations…” Jade looked at the packets and giggled when she saw the packet of rose seeds. “Rose, you didn’t get this one just because it’s your name, right?”

“Lies and slander. I’ll have you know I put a lot of thought and consideration into selecting these flowers. If one just so happens to be my namesake, it is purely coincidental.”

“Uh-huh.” Jade laughed. “I guess I should just be glad you didn’t get me a jade plant or something.”

“The thought did cross my mind.” Rose said, lips quirking when Jade snorted. “No, I really did put some thought into this. How much do you know about plant meanings?”

“A little! Why? Are you getting into plant meanings?” Jade asked curiously.

“Weren’t you and John the ones who said I needed a new hobby?” 

“Well, I guess this is an improvement from trying to summon demons in the band room.” Jade teased.

“It would not have been the first demon that school has seen.” That made Jade snicker, and Rose took the moment to take the seed packets back. “According to ancient Greek folklore, peonies represent compassion. Carnations symbolize love. And roses, as many know, are for romance.” 

Rose refused to look up at Jade while she spoke, instead pretending to inspect the planting instructions on the back of the peony packet. Jade was silent beside her, then slowly took the seed packets from Rose’s hands. “And… you’re giving them to me? With the meanings in mind?”

“I also had your garden in mind. I know you’ve been aiming to plant more flowers around the perimeter, and-” Rose deflected, but she was cut off by a sudden kiss on her cheek. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates when she turned to stare at Jade. Jade’s grin was a mile wide.

“This was a really sweet gift, thank you, Rose.” 

“Yes. Well.” Rose’s brain was short circuiting. Jade laughed softly and took Rose’s hand.

“I, uh. I kind of suspected you liked me? But I never knew for sure, so I was just gonna wait until you made it clear.” She squeezed Rose’s hand. “I’ve liked you for a really long time, you know, but I didn’t want to mess things up!”

“You have no idea how much I understand that.” Rose breathed out a sigh of relief. “Jade Harley, my friend of ten years, crush of eight, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“I would love that.” Jade grinned, then blinked as what she said registered. “Wait, how long?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s plant these peonies.”

Jade was the girl next-door, no longer a mystery, but Rose was just as enamored as she had been that very first day.

[maximumsnow]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, HLVRAI - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta, Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Bubby (Half-Life), Benrey (Half-Life) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Basically an au exploring what if HLVRAI followed Half Life a little more closely, Au where there isn't a betrayal in that one spot, Mainly was wondering what would happen to the others if they hadn't been in on it., Some things change some don't, Title is subject to change because I got nothing, Oh also this is sort of intended as a not a game au Summary: Anyone who knows original Half-Life knows that the ambush happens in that spot no matter what. What would have happened if the ambush was as rough for the others?

-

"Yo, where are we?" Gordon asked when they exited the hallway into yet another room full of vats with radioactive green goop. "Never really went to this part of the facility before."

"I think it's called- People call it Residue Processing. Black Mesa handles its own waste disposal since there's so- we use so many dangerous things." Tommy kept the lead as they traveled, but looked back every now and then to make sure Gordon was keeping up.

"Given all the radioactive shit, yeah, I can believe it... Wait, is it safe to be in here?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Freeman, it's all OSHA compliant. As long as we don't go... in..." Tommy trailed off and stopped in the entrance to the next room.

"Tommy? You alright?" When Gordon caught up to him, he saw what the hold up was.

The catwalk that would have taken them directly to the next door had been ripped from the wall and had turned a large portion of the floor into a haphazard mess of jagged metal and wires.

"This-This is not OSHA compliant," Tommy said after they both had a moment to take it in.

Gordon couldn't help but laugh incredulously. "You're not wrong there, buddy.” Even though connecting two thoughts together was like trying to force two magnets with the same charge to meet, even Gordon could tell that the usual ways out of this room were fucked.

Tommy took a few steps forward before backtracking and nearly tripping over Gordon. “S-sorry, I’m trying to see- I’m figuring another way out. Just hold on...” He scanned the room over several times, but Gordon could tell he kept going back to the same thing on the far wall. Gordon tried squinting at the black shape, but he couldn’t figure out what it was other than a black hole in the wall right over one of the vats.

“Mr. Freeman, uh, I think the only way to go is through that pipe-” Tommy pointed, “-The door is- we can’t reach the door, and I think it’s- I think it’s blocked, anyway.”

“Pipe? The one that basically feeds into these dumps? Are you- That’s the only way?” Gordon couldn’t help but ask. The only way to get to it would involve some very creative uses of the vats that were definitely not covered in any life insurance policies he had.

“Yeah. I’ll help you across, okay?” Tommy promised while holding out a hand.

Gordon seriously thought through his options, but as far as he could tell, they were well and truly stuck.  He would have to trust Tommy’s instincts.

He took the offered hand. “Okay, man. Show me how to get through.”

The grace with which Tommy was able to guide Gordon over the vats was surprising given how Gordon’s sense of equilibrium was being thrown by the HEV suit. Tommy first lead him to the edges of the vat, and he could see that there was barely enough room for him to creep along.

They managed to get to the far side of the first vat with few issues before Gordon had to ask, “Uh, how are we getting to the next one. It’s further away than I thought.”

The pause before Tommy responded was longer than Gordon had hoped. “We’re gonna have to jump. If you aim for the middle part, that’ll give you more room.”

“Jump?! There’s no way I can make that! Not like this-” His head chose that moment to start swimming, and he was pretty sure the only reason he didn’t tip over was thanks to Tommy’s now iron grip on his arm.

“You can do it, just. Just aim like a cat trying to pounce.”

That comparison immediately brought to mind several cat videos he had seen. “… I’m not going to do that weird butt wiggle cats do.”

Tommy laughed. “Th-that’s fine.” After waiting for a few more seconds, he asked, “I’m going to let go, okay? I need- We have to jump separately.”

After nodding, Gordon felt the hold loosen and then completely vanish. Tommy then jumped onto whatever mechanical thing was in the middle of the next vat, and he turned to beckon Gordon forward.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Gordon’s fear began building the very second Tommy had let go of him, and the gap between where he was and his goal felt like it had gotten bigger when Tommy had crossed it. But he knew that if he stayed here, he would lose his balance again, and falling into a vat of radioactive junk or landing headfirst onto concrete were both unappealing options.

He jumped.

He managed to land on the target, but he felt his weight shift backwards when his heels couldn’t find solid ground. Panicking, he flailed his arms in a futile attempt to swing himself forward, but gravity was winning and would pull him straight into the radioactive waste.

Time stopped along with his heart when his terror filled gaze met with Tommy’s.

In a flash, Tommy was reaching over and yanking him upright, and then he pulled Gordon close to him in a near hug. “Y-you okay, Mr. Freeman?”

Gordon needed a few seconds to regain his composure and nearly collapsed into Tommy. Once he could, he stammered out, “Yeah, thanks man, you saved me.”

Once Gordon felt like he could breathe again, Tommy all but pulled Gordon over to the pipe and helped him get in. Gordon wasn’t entirely comfortable going first, but he would have had to pull himself in otherwise, and that wasn’t an option.

The next few rooms were similarly wrecked and needing creative solutions to get through, but between Tommy keeping an eye on him and the HEV suit, he was relatively unscathed.

When they finally dropped into an area full of water, Gordon enjoyed being away from ominous glowing waste, but then remembered where they were and that the water was definitely not clean.

Thanks to the doors being jammed, Tommy jumped in to see if there was another way forward. He was only gone for a few seconds, but it was enough time for Gordon to feel the oppressive loneliness of his situation creep up.

Without Tommy, he was dead meat.

As if summoned, Tommy resurfaced and called out, “There’s-You’re-We’re gonna have to swim under something that’s like a Beyblade but big.”

The mental image that inspired wasn’t very helpful, but it made a lot more sense when he jumped in. He could feel the water gently tugging on him through the suit, and what little he could see when he ducked under told him what he needed to know. They had to time how they went through so that they wouldn’t get crushed.

Tommy waved him forward, and Gordon swam forward and let the current carry him through. Thankfully the water kind of guided him right to a divot in the wheel-like crusher, and he immediately gunned for the first place he could surface for air.

And immediately regretted it.

Tommy popped up right beside him, and even he couldn’t keep off the look of horror that flashed across his face.

Savage screams filled the air as a bunch of scientists who looked like Bubby snapped their heads around at the intruders. Many of them were on the ground, but the army crawl the nearest one did showed that they were not hindered by their position. The movement was unnatural and jerky despite its speed, and it made everything inside Gordon freak out at how wrong it was.

He felt Tommy climb out of the water with alarming speed, but before he could join him, a swarm of Bubby look-a-likes had already flocked around the water entrance. Their hands all reached towards him in a feral frenzy, and with nowhere else to go, he dropped back into the water.

Even underwater, he could hear gunshots and explosions as Tommy fought whatever those were, and while Gordon felt guilty over his cowardice, he had no idea what he could do. He didn’t have any weapons on him, and even if he did, those things moved really quickly.

His lungs, however, would not let him hide here until it was over, and when his head broke the surface, far too many hands were ready to yank him out. Despite looking like the same frail old man, the creatures had no trouble pulling him and his waterlogged HEV suit out of the water.

Given what he had seen Bubby do, he probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but his thoughts were a bit preoccupied. Currently trying to swat off anything that got close to his head, he screamed, “Tommy! They’ve got me pinned!”

Even through the suit, he could feel failed attempts at clawing and biting, and there was at least one pinning his legs down. Another one had scrambled on top of his torso and originally had tried clawing his chest piece off. Then, as if it finally noticed the weakness, it lunged for his face with teeth that looked far too sharp for a human.

“SHIT!”

Out of reflex, Gordon shut his eyes and swung his free arm at the assailant, and while the blow did not remove the problem, it did at least knock the attack off course. He grabbed at the creature’s head, and he was never more grateful for the HEV suit gloves than he was right then. The teeth couldn’t pierce the thick material, and his hand provided a nice distraction.

A spray of red marked the end of that squabble when Tommy got a clear shot, and Gordon couldn’t help flinching. Not right now not right now.

Tommy had made his way back over to Gordon and systematically took out the ones still holding him down after chucking a grenade back towards the crowd still trying to get through the hallway on the far side.

Once his limbs were free, Gordon brought his hands to his ears as if that would make the sounds stop. It took more than a few repeats of his name before he could finally look up at Tommy and hear what he was saying.

“We shouldn’t- we can rest a little further ahead. Here’s… not a good spot.” Tommy’s encouraging tone was free from the terror he had expected, and that prompted him to look around.

The room was full of corpses. That all looked like Bubby. Yeah, that wasn’t ominous or anxiety inducing in any way, shape, or form with the extra viscera hanging around. “What the fuck was that?” His voice cracked. “Are they tied to Bubby? Fuck, was one of them Bubby?” He started to ramble as he tried to piece together what the hell just happened. His breathing sped up. “Oh god, we’re fucked. We are so fucked.”

Despite his earlier insistence, Tommy decided to sit down next to Gordon and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, Mr. Freeman,” he gently instructed. “Uh, Yes. And no? He mentioned the prototypes, right? When we found a dead one?”

The reminder made him take a deep breath before he continued. “… Prototypes. Right.” He vaguely remembered the mention when they had found one dead scientist that bore a striking resemblence to Bubby before. He hadn’t had time to parse out the implications then, but after seeing them… “What the hell happened to them? Did they just-”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I wasn’t assigned to that project. Mr. Bubby didn’t really want to talk about it either...” Tommy trailed off.

Though that did raise another question. “Yeah I bet… Wait, why the hell were they here?”

“Well, maybe it was-Maybe it was the military? Get rid of all the failed ones and save bullets?”

Given how they had chosen to dispose of him, that sounded like a very plausible explanation.

Now that Gordon wasn’t on the verge of panicking again, Tommy helped pull him back up to his feet. “You-You sure you don’t want a weapon?”

While the reasons he refused earlier were still true, he really did not want a repeat of what just happened. “… Maybe I can borrow the crowbar for now?”

“That’s-That’s fine.” Tommy handed it to him, and Gordon gripped it in both hands like it was a lifeline.

Which it probably was in this case.

The rest of the journey through Residue Processing passed in a blur of conveyor belts, fire, more water, and even more radioactive waste. All throughout, he and Tommy would talk about… stuff. Sometimes related to what was going on, but often veering into other topics.

If Gordon was to be pressed later, the exact details of what was said had been lost in his hazy mind, but he got the impression the chatter was more for easing nerves and keeping him awake than anything else.

The only good thing he could recall about their trip was that there was a shocking lack of enemies other than the mob of Bubby prototypes.

Well. Living enemies. They found plenty of dead aliens. Most of them looked like they had literally been torn to pieces. Or in the case of that one headcrab, half-eaten.

After yet another ladder, they finally found a door they had enough clearance to enter. Tommy opened it with caution, but his efforts were for naught as the door squealed on its hinges.

They were lucky that all the peeper puppies on the other side had already been savaged by something else. One could make an educated guess as to what thanks to several corpses that were caught in the electrical fence and filling the air with the smell of burnt flesh.

Gordon nearly retched, which caused Tommy to back straight out of the room and tug Gordon away. Once they were a distance away from the door, Tommy instructed, “Stay-stay here, Mr. Freeman. I’ll be right back.”

He waited until Gordon finally nodded his head in understanding before leaving. Even with space, Gordon could still hear the electricity popping through the fence, and it took a lot of resolve to not just curl up on the floor and cry. The world felt like it was ending, everything hurt, and he didn’t know where the rest of his friends were.

Friends. Yeah, by now he probably could call them that. Going through hell together generally meant something. Even if he felt like he was going to die from a heart attack half of the time.

He didn’t have long to muse on that before Tommy returned and beckoned him through the door again. The electricity that had been visibly surging through the fence was gone, and the gate was already opened.

“How’d you get over there?”

“Extra carefully.”

“… I don’t know what I expected.”

The door that had been blocked by the fence was unassuming, and it did not indicate what they were going to next. Given the crates that looked like they once held the peeper puppies, they had to be close to the Biology section…

On the other side of the door was a hallway straight from a horror movie with electrical wires hanging loose from the cieling and sparking and even a flashlight on the ground that occasionally flickered. As they went in, Gordon finally shifted the crowbar into a position where he could actually use it instead of holding it like a comfort toy.

There was a groaning sound from around the corner, and Tommy threw an arm out to keep Gordon from going around him. The other hand kept his gun pointed towards the potential threat’s entrance.

Gordon’s breath caught in his throat as they waited for the monster to show itself, and if his heartbeat wasn’t giving them away, then his fidgeting with the crowbar probably was. The creaks in his gloves sounded so fucking loud, but he wanted to be ready if the thing picked up speed.

A humanoid shape stumbled around the corner with a hand clinging to the wall. At a glance, all Gordon could see was that it was wearing a hospital gown, and the other hand was clutching its middle.

Tommy didn’t pause to look and immediately fired a warning shot.

“Don’t shoot at me, asshole!” A cranky and extremely drunk voice slurred.

Wait a minute.

“Bubby?”

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 12

Warnings: Language, mentions of a panic attack (mild and short), pain and injury, fluff, angst (probably the most angst ever! *evil writer chuckles*)

A/N: First, yes that is A way to treat a burn. Especially one that would have so much debris in it (my brother went through it, I was there, it was awful). Second, I do not believe that Iloa could take on the Hulk and win, especially not right after the explosion. I took some artistic liberties with the character of the Hulk (sorry, not sorry). Last this could be a very triggering chapter for some, I know it was slightly hard for me to write. Having been through almost an identical situation as Iloa, it drug up some things. Read at your own discretion.

Also this is just super super angsty! It’s slightly ridiculous and I couldn’t love it any more! Just be patient, we will get there soon I promise. (; 

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​ @thenatallie​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Much to her eventual dismay Thor did follow her onto the elevator, peppering her with questions about what she would have to do. She explained as best she could finally ending the conversation with, “You will just have to see, I can’t explain it.” No longer wishing to explain the intimacy of the situation she was willing putting herself in. 

Reaching the recovery room door, she paused hand on the door knob unable to coax her hand into turning it so she could enter the room. 

Thor rested a comforting hand on her shoulder blade, “Talk to me,” he stated softly.

She turned her fearful gaze to his crystalline blue eyes, seeking comfort there. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, the air filtering into her lungs becoming heavy. Releasing the door, she leaned back against the wall next to it.

His hand having slid from her shoulder to her arm, Thor gave it a gentle squeeze, “Tell me how you feel right now.”

“Apprehensive,” she admitted, holding his gaze. Watching his eyes soften in understanding, she found her doubts falling from her lips, “What if I am wrong about being able to help him? What if he is still in pain despite my efforts or even because of them? It’s all my fault this happened in the first place,” she was barely taking breaths between sentences, words. She could feel her head becoming light from the lack of oxygen.

Thor suddenly gripped both of her arms, shaking her slightly. “None of this was your fault,” he argued vehemently.

“Yes it damn well is,” she shouted back. “If I hadn’t lost control, the tower would never have been compromised. There would have been no need for construction. The Russians wouldn’t have had such easy access. They wouldn’t have blown up the fucking tower. Loki would be fine, Natasha would have been fine. Banner wouldn’t have lost control. No one would have gotten hurt. It is all my fault, Thor!”

She was hyperventilating and Thor’s worried eyes dancing back and forth between her own panicked gaze wasn’t helping anything. Her chest heaved with every clawing draw of breath, her lungs burning, vision fogging, ears ringing. 

Thor pinned her in a tight embrace that had Iloa gasping in pain. “STOP!” He demanded, his deep voice ringing clearly in her ears. The first clear sound she had heard in days. And she did. Her breathing immediately evened out, her mind clearing slowly.

Thor leant away from her, loosening his grip but keeping her pinned against his chest, her arms trapped at her sides. “Don’t ever say such things again,” he warned. She blinked and frowned as his words came to her muffled again, her brain already attempting to come up with a counter argument, but he kept speaking, “If they hadn’t used the construction incident to infiltrate the tower, you are very aware that they would have found another way in. This is part of the job, not everything has to have blame assigned to it. And if you have too, it makes more sense to blame the Russians not yourself. This happened. Everyone is alive. Get over it.” He finally released her taking a step back.

Her head spun slightly as she processed his words and her sudden freedom. She couldn’t bring herself to place blame anywhere but on herself. It was what she did best, unfortunately. Internalize everything, making it her problem and no one else's.  But as her brain sluggishly replayed everything he said, she captured the one sentence that would help. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t that she should blame the offending party. Get over it, rang in her ears repeatedly, becoming a sort of mantra that finally got through to her. 

Thor watched her carefully for a moment letting his speech sink in. He saw her eyes clear from their earlier storm, then asked, “Are you ready now?”

She focused on Thor before nodding slowly. He reached out and opened the door, motioning with his outstretched arm that she should go ahead of him. She rounded the door frame, looking up at the hospital bed. Instantly all her fear and anxiety vanished. Loki caught her gaze with blazing emerald eyes and lifted his hand from where it rested on the sheets. He winced slightly but gave no other indication of pain, as he beckoned her to him.

She raced the short distance across the room to his side. She didn’t care that there were two other sets of eyes watching as she climbed up onto the bed, carefully tucking herself into Loki’s side, his arm draping effortlessly across her shoulders. Matching relieved sighs escaped them as she settled against him and he squeezed her shoulder soothingly. This was her warmth, her comfort. This was her place, her heart, her home. This is where she would always belong. 

“Are you alright?” Loki whispered against the top of her head.

She nodded, “I am now,” she admitted. “You heard?”

He hummed his affirmation against her scalp and she shivered from the tingles that lit their way pleasantly down her spine. “I was afraid you were blaming yourself,” he admitted barely loud enough for her to hear.

She tilted her head up so she could see the lines of his face. His sharp brow and the hard lines of his cheekbones and jawline. His eyes were so open and exposed to her, only her. His paler than usual skin tone and the already fading scrapes on his forehead and cheek, the only indication that anything was amiss. He was breathtakingly beautiful, even with his current affliction, “I thought you were never scared?” she quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” he scoffed. “Perhaps concerned was the word I was looking for instead,” he countered, grinning down at her.

She giggled, but was unable to respond, “Whoa,” Banner abruptly broke in. But when she looked toward him, he wasn’t looking at the pair on the bed. She finally noticed the additional medical instrument that had been brought into the room. There was now a patient monitor alongside the IV stand. It was connected to Loki in various places to monitor his pulse, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. Banner was concentrating intently on the screen, his brow wrinkling as he studied the readings. 

“What’s wrong?” Iloa asked, almost losing herself to panic again.

Banner held up a hand, quickly looking over at her, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s just that before you got here, his readings were less than favorable.”

Iloa wrinkled her own brow, looking to Loki who looked just as confused as she was, then back to Banner, “Are you going to explain any further?”

“Hmm?” Banner was looking back at the monitor. When he finally glanced up at the others in the room, he continued, “Right sorry.” He at least had the decency to look abashed as he finally explained, “Earlier his readouts were all over the place, high blood pressure and low heart rate, then followed shortly by low blood pressure and a much faster heart rate. His oxygen level was dangerously low as well.” He lifted his hands placatingly as Iloa stared wide eyed at him, her mouth dropping open in a gasp, “It’s alright, it’s alright. All of this is perfectly normal and expected from someone that has suffered an injury this severe and isn’t on pain medicine. Dangerous perhaps, but unfortunately normal.” 

Iloa sunk closer into Loki’s side, her hand splaying protectively across his chest. Loki tightened his hold around her shoulders as well. Banner smiled at the show of affection, “As soon as Iloa came in contact with your person Loki, everything evened out. It’s like you haven’t been injured at all. It’s amazing!” Banner was beaming by the end of his explanation. “I must apologize to you, Iloa. I can’t say that I actually believed it was you causing the difference, until I saw it happen on this screen.” 

Iloa ducked her head, feeling uncomfortable with the apology and praise. Loki spoke up on her behalf, “I could have confirmed it for you, without the need of this confounded contraption you have been torturing me with.”

“I would hardly call three sticky pads on your chest and a pulse ox on your finger torture,” Banner countered, amused at Loki’s air of irritation.

“These,” Loki stated, gesturing at the pads, “Itch. The cords attached to them are constricting. And this,” he added lifting his finger with the pulse oximeter, “Is heavy. As I said, torture.”

Thor laughed, after having stayed silent throughout the previous conversation, “Dear brother, I do believe you are whining,” he chidded with glee.

Loki snarled, “I would never.”

“Oh but you are,” Thor argued with another boisterous roll of laughter. 

Iloa decided to cut in before the two of them could get out of hand, “Boys, you can argue your points at a later time. I do believe we have a more pressing matter to attend to, right Doc?”

“Yes, right,” Banner said, catching on to Iloa’s train of thought. “I don’t want you to move using your own muscles anymore than is absolutely necessary. But I will need you on your side at least.” He paused running a hand over his face before looking pointedly at Iloa, “I am not sure how you want to do this.”

She shook her head, feeling heat creep up in her cheeks, “I don’t know anymore than you. Just has to be skin-to-skin.” She looked up at Loki for confirmation.

Keeping his eyes on her, instead of looking up at Banner, Loki added, “The more contact the better.”

“Right, well, I am not going to ask anyone to strip in my recovery room,” Iloa flushed from head to toe, her stomach fluttering at the prospect of being naked with Loki. Though she had to admit, she didn’t want an audience in attendance if that happened. While Loki just gave a devilish grin, licking his lips like he wanted a taste. Iloa was beginning to remember why she had thought she should keep her mouth shut about helping. 

They had just survived an extremely traumatic event after finally tearing down the walls between them. There was so much built up sexual tension now, it was like a gunpowder keg. One correctly placed match and it was going to explode, consequences be damned.

This whole situation could very well end up being that match.

Gritting her teeth, she inwardly beat the flutters into submission. Knowing her confidence wouldn’t last long when she started to give orders, she hurriedly started speaking, “Banner and Thor, you two can roll Loki onto his side. Loki, I am going to stay in front of you with my hands and arms against your chest. You need to relax enough to let them move you without any help from you. We will take it slow,” she looked up at the other two before settling her gaze on Loki once more. “If you need them to stop, if you need them to go slower, or if anything else happens, and I mean anything, you have to tell me.”

Loki looked positively livid, but he nodded his head. She knew that he would not want to admit any weakness in front of others. But he could get seriously injured if they didn’t do this safely. “Promise me, Loki,” she whispered. He nodded his head again.

Her hands shot up to his face, tilting his head to her as their foreheads pressed gently together, “Promise me,” she begged, unable to hide the desperation in her off-key voice. 

Loki couldn’t stop himself from melting into her touch as his eyes darted worriedly between hers. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t make this promise. But as she held his gaze determinedly, he let himself give in, “I promise,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, humming, “Thank you.”

When she glanced back to the others, she noticed Banner tucking the sheet over Loki’s waist more securely against his hip. And there was that blasted heat in her cheeks once again. Then he lifted the sheet underneath Loki from the mattress and instructed Thor to do the same. He caught her gaze, “This way we run less risk of overstimulating the nerves on his back, before I do the treatment,” he explained.

She tried to hide her flinch at that from Loki. She had nearly strangled Banner to death the first time he had done it. Stark had forcibly removed her from the doctor, kicking, screaming, and sobbing. She was not looking forward to it any more, with Loki awake.

Carefully she shifted her body back from Loki, keeping her hands on his face cradling his neck with her forearms. He released his hold on her as she moved back, her elbows nestling against his chest, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“Of course,” his quivering, unsteady, breathy answer, gave him away.

“Liar,” she countered gently.

“Always,” he mimicked her earlier response. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax his muscles one by one. To his disappointment it wasn’t working. Finally deciding it was now or never, he closed his eyes, grit his teeth and gave a nod.

She looked up at Banner. He and Thor started slowly lifting the sheet to gently roll him to his side. “Relax, Loki,” she cooed softly. “I’m right here, don’t tense.”

To his surprise, he didn’t. He couldn’t lie, the sheet pressing against his skin hurt. But it wasn’t unbearable. Slowly the pair behind him rolled him to his side, where he nestled into Iloa’s awaiting warmth. He sighed heavily, their bodies laying pressed together from chest to toe. “That wasn’t so bad,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around Iloa securing her to his chest. The cords from the monitor tugging uncomfortably against his upper arm. Banner quickly taped them together hanging them over a hook over the monitor to keep them from coming in contact with Loki’s back.

Loki let his head settle against Iloa’s, pressing his cheek to hers, breathing in deeply to capture her scent in his lungs. Joyously, he felt nothing but the girl in his arms.

“That wasn’t the bad part,” she whispered against his ear. Banner had already begun to remove the bandages. Iloa tried desperately to keep Loki’s attention on her and it seemed to be working for now.

Involuntarily Loki tensed at her words, a single bolt of pain shot down his spine like lightning. But this was nothing compared to the waves that wracked through his body before. The bolt had made him aware that the doctor had started his work. The slight pull on his skin from tape being removed and gauze being lifted away had him breathing in sharply through his teeth a few times. Still it was manageable and didn’t explain the worry he could hear laced through Iloa’s broken tone. Finally lifting his head to find her blue eyes again. “What do you mean?”

Iloa traced his cheekbones with her thumbs soothingly, “The treatment,” she answered, her deft fingers abruptly moving into his hair and holding his head still.

Like the harbinger of death, her words brought forth the first wave of nauseating pain. He roared in agony, “You fucking mortal bastard,” he bit out over his shoulder, fighting against Iloa and now Thor’s hold as well. At some point he had rounded the bed and now had firm hands on the top of Loki’s shoulder, pinning him to the bed.

“Loki, look at me,” Iloa begged, “Please, Loki.” Finally getting his gaze back on hers, she flinched seeing his murderous gaze now aimed at her. “This is part of it. He has to scrape the dead skin and debris from the wound or it won’t heal properly. Trust me if there was any other way, I wouldn’t let him do this to you.” She tried to explain as tears bled from her eyes. Another cry escaped his throat, the sound of his misery tearing at her heart. His hands fisting tightly onto the back of her shirt, causing the pulse ox to dig agonizingly into her skin. Ignoring her own pain, she stroked his hair with one hand, massaging his scalp with the other. “Focus on my hands, Loki,” she tried to appeal to their connection, have him focus somewhere, anywhere else. 

The next cry pulled the air harshly from Loki’s lungs and he slumped forward inadvertently pushing Iloa into the mattress beneath him. As he lay half on half off of the girl, he did focus on her hands. She never stopped moving them, shushing him quietly, calmly.

Trying to remember to continue breathing, he closed his eyes pressing his forehead harshly against her collarbone. He tried to focus on her warmth wrapping around his body, quelling the soul deep ache now coursing through his veins. Trying to capture the electric current that ran between them, but as soon as he grasped it, it was ripped from him by another wave of excruciating torment.

After his most recent roar, he crumbled tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It’s not enough,” he breathed into her clavicle. Her hands stilled in his hair, then one of them disappeared momentarily before returning to soothe once more. The pain stopped for the moment. He took deep steadying breaths trying to regain a mite of his composure. 

“What do you need?” her voice quivered with her own commiserating misery. Terrified that she was no longer helping.

He just shook his head slightly. He didn’t know. All he knew was their contact was no longer enough, he needed more. So that was his answer, “More.”

She nodded, trying to think of how she could provide. His hands flexed against her back, pulse ox bitingly reminding her of their placement and she suddenly had her answer. “Loki,” she breathed, pushing down all nerves that threatened to stop her next words. “Slide your hands underneath the back of my shirt,” she barely spoke loud enough for him to hear.

He gave one nod, then followed her directions. Slowly he tucked his hands under the hem of her t-shirt. The pulse ox popped off his finger, but no one made any move to replace it. His hands met her bare skin and he sighed in much needed relief. Pushing his hands up from the small of her back, she arched her body carefully into him trying to ease his assent and he moaned but not from pleasure. Her shirt rode up over her stomach to press against his skin there too. He finally stopped his hands when they met her shoulder blades, his forearms and biceps pressed securely against her bare skin. He squeezed her against him urgently before allowing them to settle back against the bed again.

“Okay,” he breathed, in dire need of the torment ending as quickly as possible.

Eventually it did, when his tears had finally spilled over and he was certain he had left bruises on the soft skin still beneath his splayed fingers. His throat raw from his cries, he had somehow sunk to Iloa’s stomach, pressing his burning cheek against her cool sink. He didn’t move when that damnable doctor said he was finally finished, allowing Iloa to field the conversation for him.

“Good news is, I shouldn’t have to scrape the skin again. All debris and risk for infection appears to be gone now,” Banner explained as he covered Loki’s back with a cool liquid that soothed his ache further. 

“And the bad news?” Iloa asked cautiously, still running one hand soothingly through Loki’s hair.

“Well it isn’t really bad, I just need to leave his back uncovered for a little while. It needs to air out and soak in the silver sulfadiazine. Not that the ointment itself will help much, but it will cool the overheated skin and the silver will help prevent infection. It just means he can’t move for a couple hours.”

Iloa glared up at Banner, “I don’t think he is going anywhere any time soon,” she snapped. She didn’t care if she was unnecessarily biting his head off. She had hated watching Loki suffer, it was so much worse than any time before.

“Iloa,” Thor interjected. But his conference was unwanted and she snapped her glare to him quickly in warning.

“No, she’s right,” Banner agreed rubbing the back of his neck. He reached to adjust the sheet more securely around Loki’s hips, making sure it wouldn’t come in contact with the exposed wound. Somehow it had managed to keep Loki’s more private assets, well private. “We will leave you two alone now. I will be back in a couple hours to place fresh bandages.” With that he quickly turned and exited the room.

Thor held Iloa’s gaze until it calmed, “You should apologize to him,” he said, nodding toward the closing door.

“I have every time,” she sighed. She wasn’t even angry anymore, she was just tired.

Thor nodded, turning to leave as well. He stopped at the door, glancing back over his shoulder, “You take good care of him now.”

“I always do,” she offered a small weary smile, which he returned before exiting the room as well.

Looking down at Loki’s wrecked and broken form, she had to fight a fresh wave of tears from falling from her eyes. She licked her dry lips, wishing she had asked Thor to get them some fresh water before he had left. 

After a few quiet moments of listening to Loki’s ragged breaths, she asked, “Are you alright?”

Loki shook his head slightly against her stomach. “Distract me,” he said against her skin and she shivered.

Iloa stilled her hand in his raven locks, racking her brain for any way to complete his request. So she asked, “How?”

Loki groaned an after shook rippling through his muscles, “Tell me a story,” he begged through clenched teeth.

She blanked on a subject, thinking hard. She had pretty much covered her entire life with him already. There were finer details sure, but what would he be interested in right now. What could possibly be a sufficient distraction.

She could feel that she had been silent too long. Loki’s body trembling slightly in her lap. “What kind of story?” she asked.

He sighed heavily, his weight lifting and settling more firmly against her lap. “Tell me about your love life,” he blurted, going with the first thought that ran clearly through his mind.

A barked laugh escaped Iloa’s lips and she reached quickly to cover her lips. She cleared her throat before lowering her hand back to the bed, “That would be a very short story,” she admitted.

“Impossible,” he argued.

She frowned, her brow wrinkling in confusion, “How so?”

He shifted slightly, trying to see her. Catching on to what he was attempting, Iloa shifted to the side so he could see her face without having to move. Trying to hide her wince as the skin Loki had gripped so tightly stretched with her movement, muscles throbbing slightly. She didn’t want him to worry about having injured her. Propping her head up on her hand, elbow pressed into the mattress, she waited for him to answer.

“Iloa,” Loki started, licking his lips as his eyes scanned every inch of her face, “You are far too radiant for there to have been no interest in you.”

She flushed at his compliment, then giggled softly, “I didn’t say there was no interest. I had suitors when my parents were still alive. But I wasn’t interested.” 

Suddenly feeling even more possessive of her, Loki bit out, “That means they are all dead now, correct?”

She giggled again, nodding at him genially, “You have nothing to worry about, they are all long since past.” Her brow wrinkled for a moment, before she asked, “Are you jealous, Loki?”

He scoffed and bit into his cheek trying to keep from groaning aloud. Catching his breath, he answered, “Don’t be absurd.”

“You would never,” she mocked.

“Of course not,” he agreed a little too quickly.

Lifting her hand from her face, she gently poked the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Lair,” she said, returning her hand to hold her head up.

Loki tracked her hand with his eyes, all the way back to where it now cradled her cheek. His hand should be there instead. He flexed his arms around her waist gently, confirming to himself that she was indeed still within his grasp. She winced slightly, again, and he feared for the condition of her own back. Trying to stick with the diverting conversation, “You have never been in love before?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he really wanted the answer, but the distraction was working. So he resigned himself to receiving her answer.

Iloa thought about it for a moment. She lifted her gaze, focusing on distant memories from her past. Then whispered, “No, I have had sex before, but it was more like an itch that needed scratching.” She noticed his eyes grow dark and blurted, “But I have never been in love before now.” Feeling heat gather in her cheeks, when she focused on the last sentence that had escaped her lips. She ducked her head, her hair falling to curtain her face. 

Loki couldn’t resist. Lifting the arm that wasn’t trapped between her and the bed hurt like hell, but he reached forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingering on her cheek as blue eyes met green, “Don’t hide from me, please,” he begged, “Not now. Not anymore. Your confession warms my heart, Iloa.”

Sliding forward until his palm lay flat against her cheek, Iloa closed her eyes with a hum of affection. The fluttering sensations she had fought into submission, came back with a vengeance. She could feel every place Loki’s body was in contact with her own. The press of his cheek against her bare stomach. The arm that was still wrapped around her waist, fingers pressed gently against the small of her back. His chest as it rose and fell against the tops of her thighs. And that hand pressed against her cheek, long elegant fingers lacing into her hair. All of that contact flooded her senses causing liquid fire to run through her veins. Could he feel it too?

Slowly she opened her eyes, meeting irises blown so wide she could only see the barest green ring surrounding them. The match, she thought. She knew at that moment that if Loki had been able too he would have struck that match and happily set them both on fire. 

She shivered in his grasp and Loki groaned in response. But this time they both knew the sound had nothing to do with his pain, at least not pain caused by the injury. 

The door to the recovery room swung open, snapping Iloa’s gaze from his. He groaned, this time, in frustration, letting his arm fall back to lay beside her. The sooner he healed from this ailment the better. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone in his entire existence. He couldn’t help thinking that all this built up sexual tension was certainly out to kill him. He felt like he was burning from the inside out.

Banner made quick work of applying fresh bandages. Iloa apologized to the doctor several times before he finally waved her off telling her there was nothing to apologize for. “At least you didn’t try to kill me this time.”

Loki’s ears perked up at that, “You tried to kill him?”

Her cheeks turned the most delicious shade of pink and Loki had to bite back a moan at the sight, “I almost strangled him to death. Would have succeeded too if Tony hadn’t pulled me off of him. Luckily, I had the element of surprise and he was slightly weaker so soon after the explosion at the tower. So I avoided bringing out the good doctors alter-ego.”

Loki huffed at that, “Yes, lucky.” Having been on the receiving end of that alter-ego himself, he knew it was nothing short of luck that Iloa hadn’t had to face him.

With Iloa and Banner’s assistance, he was allowed to return to lying on his back once more. Once settled, Iloa tucked securely at his side once more, Banner excused himself for the night.

Loki squeezed her shoulder, feeling her tense beneath his hand. Looking down at her, he asked, “How bad is it?”

She shook her head, worried gaze lifting to his, “It’s not bad, I swear. Just a little sore.”

Loki didn’t believe her, “Let me see.”

Iloa’s cheeks heated, “Loki,” she drawled his name through a low whisper, “Are you asking me to take my shirt off?”

His jaw dropped at her tenacity, but he quickly recovered. Fixing his devilish stare on her eyes, “I can’t lie,” trailing his eyes slowly down to linger at her lips, “I would love to pick back up where we were interrupted earlier,” his voice low and husky, gaze dropping ever lower over her elegant neck before stopping at the tops of her breasts. He snapped his eyes back up to hers, “But I am more concerned about the damage I have done to you, at this moment,” his tone becoming deadly serious.

Iloa sighed, sitting up and away from his side. Loki let her move, dropping his arm from her shoulders, watching as she turned away from him. Slowly she gripped the hem of her shirt lifting it slowly up her back while keeping her breasts covered. 

Loki groaned at the bruises that steadily appeared as her shirt ascended. “I am so sorry,” he breathed, lifting his hand slowly. Carefully grazing his fingers across the various marks he had left on her beautiful flawless skin. Of course it wasn’t flawless anymore, she was with him now. He ruined everything he touched.

Hearing the way his breathing suddenly became erratic short gasps for air, Iloa dropped her shirt. She spun around on her knees to face him again, taking his outstretched hand between both of hers. “Don’t be,” she assured. 

“How can I not?” Doubt clouded angry emerald depths as he turned his face to look across the room.

Taking one steady breath, she answered with exactly how she felt, “Because I like it.” His head snapped comically back to her, wonder and disbelief painting his features. “I do. I sort of feel like you have marked me as yours with them.” She giggled, tucking her head down to look up at him through her lashes, “Does that make me sadistic?” she inquired quietly, hoping her answer would have the desired effect.

It seemed to do the trick. Loki suddenly gripped both of her wrists and jerked her to him. She had no way to keep herself from landing on his chest, tensing her back to help keep her body from hitting him too hard. Her forearms landed across his chest, her waist planted firmly against his. His nose brushed against hers with each breath he took, “You continually surprise me,” his voice filled with fascination. His hands trailed steadily up her arms across her neck to stop tangled lazily in her curls. His emerald gaze blazing as he took in every inch of her face like he was memorizing it.

The intensity of his gaze, set her stomach fluttering, heat pooling in her core. Her insides squirmed with need, she breathed against his lips, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Loki chuckled, grinning at her daring attitude. He was enjoying this steady back and forth between them. Lingering on the edge of arousal, he shifted closer to her lips, “It doesn’t, does it,” he responded then brushed his lips softly across her own. Absorbing the fresh flood of warmth that coursed through him when she whined softly, he added, “I don’t think you are sadistic, my dear.” Finally he pressed his lips firmly against her own. Fingers flexing and gripping her hair, he smashed her face against his, desperately attempting to devour her mouth.

Matching moans erupted from gasping throats. Tongues dueling for dominance, hands gripping hair in desperation and desire. Their bodies quickly became overheated, until Iloa lifted herself to straddle Loki’s lap. He was eager for her contact, keeping his mouth against her just as eager lips, welcoming her movement. But when she sat down, it was too much pressure even with her small build. His back rippled in spasming protest. He jerked his head back to the bed gritting his teeth, even though her weight quickly vanished.

Her hands rubbed circles against his chest quickly, eyes wide with panic, “I am so sorry, Loki!” Her words grated against his ears, made worse by the attack and her unnatural lilt.

“Fuck,” he growled through clenched teeth and her hands left him. This was going to kill him. Not the injury, of course, but the fact that it kept him from getting what he wanted, needed, desired most right now. It felt like the world was still trying to tear them apart, even though they had jumped so many emotional hurdles already. Now they had to face physical ones as well.

The spasms dying off, he was finally able to find her face again. She had sat back away from him on her knees, her hands clasped tightly together, her head dropped chin to chest. That damned current of hair hiding her face from his eyes once more. 

“It’s alright, Iloa. I am alright.” He needed her contact again, even if it couldn’t be anything more than comforting for now. The tension between them had dissolved the instant they had separated. Now he was simply exhausted.

She shook her head, refusing to look up at him, “No you aren’t,” her voice so small and broken in so many ways, he couldn’t possibly name them all. 

He placed his knuckles against her knee. He needed her touch, she needed his comfort, “I am alright,” he stated with finality. “We just have to be more careful.” He groaned as he added, “We just have to wait for anything more serious.”

She nodded at him, lifting her head slightly and finally drawing storm filled blue eyes to his. He hated seeing them like that. They should never be anything but the blazing blue sapphires that normally held his gaze. “Come here,” he said lifting his arm slowly from his side.

Iloa hesitated, “What if I hurt you again?” She stated, voice still so small with a nervous edge wrapped around the question.

“You won’t,” he consoled her, “Come here, I am not asking.”

Slowly she rose from her knees, placing her hands carefully on the bed as she crawled up to his side. There was nothing seductive or suggestive in her movements, instead she just looked tired and emotionally worn out, the same way he felt.

Tucking her under his arm, he gently stroked her hair. Letting the feel of her wrap his body in its healing warmth. He moaned low in his throat, “Much better. Now sleep, my love,” he whispered against her hair. She nodded, sighing heavily.

When he was certain she had finally drifted off, he closed his own eyes allowing his bone deep exhaustion to pull him under into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

[redknight3996]

31 Day Horror House Challenge

Preamble: Okay, so I realize Bogleech’s Horror House is supposed to be an art challenge done over 31 days, but I am not that confident in my artistic abilities and am also a really bad procrastinator. However, I still really liked the prompt, got inspired by it, and so I wrote a bunch of these. So I hope they still count or whatever, but even if they don’t, I wanna share because I had fun with them. They’ll be in three batches here, so expect two more after this.

1 - The Beast in the Woods

There is a road that your car will break down on, should you drive down it alone. It doesn’t matter the car, it will break down, and your phone will die. You will have no way of contacting anyone, so you will, at some point, exit the car. If you have a flashlight, you should use it. It will help illuminate the road.

You’ll see it before it sees you. In the distance, the horns will make you think it’s a deer. A very large deer. Then you’ll see that’s wrong; the snout is that of a carnivore, with sharp teeth. It has claws, not hooves. You’ll think it must be a wolf, even though no wolves live in the area. 

You may want to go back. You shouldn’t run, that will trigger its instincts. Its brown fur is patchy and covered in scabs.

Its mouth hangs open as it turns towards you, not reacting to the light in the slightest. That is because it has no eyes where it should. Instead, there are two holes, deep caverns in its head, leaking with seawater. The hound’s horns are not made of bone; they’re made of shell. 

It will seem to choke, its throat moving in a vague resemblance to coughing as water leaks from its maw. Its fur writhes and bulges as eyes form where they should, twin stalks protruding put its sockets and staring directly at you. The scabs open and bleed as shelled legs wriggle out. 

By now, you should be running. Not to your car; it doesn’t work, and even if it did, there’s already another one in the backseat. It’s not big enough to wear your car properly, but if you enter said vehicle, you would do just fine.

As such, it’s best to run to the woods instead. The trees act for a sort of cover, and you have a better chance there than out on the open road.

So keep on running. You’ll get where you need to go.

2 - Bethany

In the woods beside the road, there won’t be a path. There won’t be any indication of where to go, but assuming the beast does not run you down, you will eventually run into a gate. Potentially literally; you are very likely to slam face first into the steel bars. This will be painful, so attempt to avoid doing so.

The gateway itself is massive, composed of stone that stretches out into high walls on either side of it. The walls stretch far enough into the distance that you cannot see their end, and will not reach it either. The gates themselves are a pair, and will swing out if unlocked and opened properly. You may attempt to climb them, though doing so will have unfortunate results.

Instead, attempt to call for help. Screaming is a valid option. You will quickly drawn the attention of the gatekeeper, should you do so, and you should cease screaming once you see her, or she may disregard you as a random hooligan. This would be a bad outcome.

The gatekeeper’s name is Bethany, and unless you are taller than 6’8”, or 203 centimeters tall, you will be smaller than her. You will likely be smaller than her in other regards, even if you exceed her height, as she is very large individual, broad in both shoulder and belly. This is difficult to tell, however, as she is wearing a very large coat, as a gatekeeper should. It keeps out the cold, you see.

Her wide-brimmed hat and thick headscarf are further practical, as they keep off that glaring moonlight, and the gloves are a clear necessity to keep her fingers together in this chilling wind that you still clearly feel. These are natural things. This is a natural person.

You may be somewhat unnerved when she first turns to you and speaks though, as she has a somewhat thick voice, like a person sick for several weeks without getting better, their lungs clumped with phlegm. Do not worry though, you will not get ill, from her. She is wearing a mask. That keeps the sickness in.

It is a pale mask, stark white against the deep blacks and browns of her clothing, and circular, much like the moon. Similarly to the moon, it has holes in it; three holes, black as pitch, and spaced in a triangle. One for each eye, and one for the mouth. They might move, but that fact stays consistent.

She will greet you politely and ask your business. Explain your situation and try not to lie. Lies have a habit of coming out at inconvenient times. Try not to scream either, even if you hear the beast following you, because she will think you hoodlum and leave you outside. Your goal is to get in, so be honest, forthright, and polite. She will let you in.

You may note a substance on her boots. Something red and squishy. You may notice stains on her jeans that you cannot quite tell if they are a dried brown or a fresh red. You might notice dirt spill from her jacket as she turns and watches you the entire way up the path to the large manor at the end. The long, stone path, flanked by bronze statues dressed in gardening gear and filled with plants that spill from their hollow eyes and mouths. Stick to that path. She is watching for a reason.

Also, do not comment on her stains or dirt or any mold you may notice. Bethany is a hardworking woman, and she can handle things on her own. She knows. You’ll look like an idiot for pointing it out. Don’t be an idiot.

Do not worry about the beast either. If it has chased you all this way, Bethany will notice it. She will grumble under her breath as it claws at the gate and screeches in unearthly tones, and turn to it. You will be too far to see what she does, but her jacket will open. So will something else. 

A sound like a garbage disposal will echo, and the beast will be handled. If you stared, you should know, those were not teeth. They were roots.

3 - Lucille

Lucille Tarallo is the head maid of the Murcoll Estate and its chief housekeeper. Her primary responsibilities involve seeing to the general upkeep of the house, the maintenance of its many artworks and artifacts, and the care of both its residents, and its guests. Because while it is a manor, one owned and operated by a singular proprietor, it is also a lodging, for when one has so much space that they could fit a dozen families inside and still have room, then what is the point of not using it? To flaunt, like some prancing peacock? Poppycock and balderdash, then we’d be no better than the fucking Battersbys.

You will likely receive such a speech if you inquire about the manor, and about dear Lucille’s place within it. As for Lucille herself, she is typically a woman of near-average height, and the majority of her bodies stay in that mold, if not that cast. To explain further, Lucille is not a singular entity; rather, she is spread out throughout the entire manor through a series of bodies one could say she is “puppeteering”.��

Not to worry though, if you are the type to worry; the bodies are statues. Marble statues, specifically, though ones that are perfectly correct in all physical resemblance to a human body, thank you very much. Specifically, a human body resembling a young woman, often fitted with a wig of varying hair colors–though primarily blonde, brunette, raven, and/or ginger–that is cut into a proper bob that would keep out of the leaking tar pits that are her otherwise empty eyes.

Do not worry, she knows about them, they won’t drip onto anything important. That’s the necessity of a black maid dress, you see. The same kind all of her bodies wear. She has a proper uniform, you see, and a proper one, with a long skirt, an apron, and a proper cap. No unnecessary frills or exclusions like those French harlots. No, everything is proper.

You may notice by now that her mouth, which will remain closed in every statue that has it closed because proper statues do not move their faces, may bubble with tar if she is agitated. Do point this out to her, as she will swiftly correct it with a handkerchief pulled from the many pockets her apron hides, while if it goes unremarked, she will either notice, or someone else will point it out, and this will embarrass her. Be polite.

You may note, while walking with Lucille throughout the manor because she has duly appointed herself your tour guide while you are a guest at the estate, that her bodies seem to follow a sort of presence. Active bodies leak their tar and go about their business as the one she is primarily puppeteering–properly designated through its possession of spectacles–passes by them, only to turn inert once she far enough away. She is limited in some regards, though all of her bodies, active or inert, retain awareness of their location. 

So if you happen to be out of her presence for whatever reason, simply request aid from the nearest body, and she will arrive posthaste. Do not attempt any tomfoolery with said inert bodies though; as stated, she can feel, and see, and smell, and taste you. Hear you too, in case that wasn’t clear, though it may not be. Maybe you can’t hear. Who knows? She doesn’t.

She will if you mess with her though. So please, don’t. She is made of solid stone. Getting slapped will break your teeth.

4 - Alexandria

You’ve already seen Alexandria on your way in, and she’s seen you. She’ll make this clear the instant you go to the gardens by waving with a bright, beaming grin. Literally, in her case, for while the middle sister of the Tarallo family shares some resemblance to her seriously adorable younger sister–Seriously, isn’t Lucy just the cutest? Always so serious~!–she also shares a number of differences.

For one thing, their professions. 

While Lucille is the housekeeper, Alexandria–Lex or Lexi if you want to be friendly, though she has a preference for the latter–is the groundskeeper. She keeps the grounds, and that means maintaining the gardens, whether they be plant, mushroom, rock, sand, or hanging. Some are trickier than others, but she does her best, and that is further shown with the fact that in her bronze body, she keeps a number of vegetation and fungi growing directly within her. 

Oftentimes, she uses them for decoration, resulting in her having “hair” consisting of flower petals and mushroom caps. Not just on her head, but anywhere a human being could be expected to have hair, though she tends to vary placement so she can get one style or another.

She also has to factor in how well they match with her clothes, as her various bodies have a number of outfits on. All of the outdoorsy variety, and all very well suited for gardening and farming and outdoorsing, but still, different, and thus requiring different color combinations.

Really, she might be about as bright as the flowers and caps themselves, though that may be due to the further fact that her nature itself is quite different from Lucille’s. Both of them maintain a number of bodies, of course, but where Lucille tends to leak, Lexi tends to glow. Literally, as her orifices in her active bodies shine with the yellow light of large warning signs, illuminating the garden in the night like great lighthouses warding ships from shores and making sure you stay on the damn paths.

That’s a point she would like to make. The garden is lovely. It can be for playing and planting and traipsing. In the daytime. Later afternoon, especially!

Nighttime is for sprinklers and sheers and things in the dirt. You can visit. Just keep on the paths, keep out of the greenhouse, and stay away from the pond. The fountain might be fine, if Darren isn’t being a fuckwit, but we’ll see.

Well, you shouldn’t. See, that is. That’s how he gets you.

Anyway! That’s the gardens! Feel free to enjoy in the proper areas!

5 - Oscar

Once you have made clear your need for car repair, Lucille will guide you to the garage, which is both smaller and taller than you would expect. There’s a man there, working under a car, and at first, all you will see is the lower half of his overalls, and the large, black boots he wears.

Lucille will clear her throat, seeming almost nervous for the first time since you’ve met her, and announce your need. The man will grunt, and push himself out from under the car. It will take a few pushes.

Oscar Felmont will almost undoubtedly loom over you. Few people are nine feet tall, so this should be expected.

You may, at first glance, assume he is a crocodile man. You may, at second glance, assume instead that he is a shark man. You will be somehow both correct and wrong, because he is half-shark, half-crocodile, and half-man, and yes, that is precisely how the ratios worked. It’s why he has four arms, the second set jutting from just under the “natural” set. You will likely have been questioning that, and you will more than likely be unsatisfied by that answer.

Oscar, whose skin is quite literally split down the middle between bumpy, rigid crocodile skin and rough, stabby shark scales, will dislike you if you voice that dissatisfaction. Considering his mouth is full of one row of crocodile teeth–which you can see sticking out of his mouth even while closed–and multiple rows of shark teeth, this is ill-advised.

Further, Oscar is a very muscular man. That is very noticeable. He is not wearing a shirt under his overalls, and they are rather low cut on the sides, most likely to accommodate his extra arms. He is also wearing a red trucker’s cap on his otherwise bald head, and he has a set of small nostrils instead of a full nose. He also seems to lack ears, though you’ll notice a set of headphones around his neck, and a phone in his breast pocket, with which he was listening to music. He still noticed you coming in, of course. He’s not sloppy.

Lucille will explain your presence and request, and he will nod, before going to gather up the necessary tools. Lucille will stare at him throughout this endeavor. Her gaze will drift lower at points. She will more than likely not notice if you attempt to speak to her at this time, only giving noncommittal answers. She is busy. Get the hint.

Oscar will leave eventually, and at some point, will come back. Assuming things are fine then, he will announce that your car is pregnant, and give you a very unamused stare. The correct answer is to explain the presence of the beast out in the woods; this will explain things to his satisfaction. Attempting explanations of how you would never do such a thing and expressing bafflement that such an occurrence could even be possible from a biological standpoint will only result in him slowly shaking his head at you in judgmental silence, until you inevitably leave out of awkward discomfort.

6 - Daisy

You might notice Daisy as you walk through the halls with Lucille. She might notice you first, because you probably smell of the outside world and she’ll become curious, but it’s equally possible that you may catch her napping on one of her heated rocks. 

Assuming you do not though, you will likely be taken by surprise as an enormous quadrupedal reptile turns a corner and stares down at you with three sets of eyes. Do not be alarmed, she is smooth enough to avoid damaging the nearby paintings or suits of armor, though her tail may whack a few things. She only has the one tail, and it will not wriggle with happiness at the sight of you. She is not a dog, she is a lizard. 

A very large, yellow-green lizard, who will more than likely take up the entire hallway you are walking down. One with three heads, extending from three necks that are attached to one torso, where necks normally attach. Between the shoulders, in case that isn’t clear.

Her necks are frilled, which does make it tricky to get the collars on, but they do so add an adorable burst of color whenever they flare. Different colors for each head, specifically; the leftmost head is a vibrant poppy orange, the middle is pure sunflower yellow, and the rightmost is deep grass green, though the textures may resemble more tangerine, lemon, and lime, if you really think about it. Her eyes also vary, though they all retain the same round shape and slit pupils that can go quite cutely wide when she is excited; the orange head has red eyes, the yellow head has brown eyes, and the green head has blue eyes. Simple, no?

Assuming you have remained still this entire time, you may notice Daisy sticking her forked tongues out at you, two of which are pink, and one of which is blue. Do not worry, she is not intending to lick you, merely investigate your curious scents. If you did start running, then she has almost assuredly caught and pinned you down, and is doing the same thing. It is recommended that you do not run, as her claws are still fairly sharp, and her typical playmate is made of marble. You, presumably, are not, and thus things like sharpness and heavy weight are to be avoided.

Do not scream or flail during this examination either, as Daisy may assume you are being playful, and will attempt to play. As you are small and squishy, presumably, this will end poorly, though if you are canny and clever and willing to harm such a sweetheart, you may manage to get away and even, perhaps, knock a tooth loose from one of her mouths, at which point she will most certainly give you up as a poor playmate and leave for better prospects. 

Oh, and if you do manage to harm her in such a way, Lucille will snap your neck on the spot. And you will deserve it. You monster.

Assuming you did not do any such thing and instead had a lovely time with this very sweet girl, then you may continue on as you were, unbothered and having made a new friend. 

Friends are good. Be a friendly person.

7 - Dolce

You’ll probably hear Dolce Gustoso before you see him, as he is a very naturally loud and bombastic individual, and is likely to be singing in fluent Italian as he is working in the kitchens.

If you decide to take a peek inside the kitchens instead of waiting in the dining room, you’ll notice him rather easily, as he is also a rather tall individual. Not as tall as Oscar, more around Bethany’s height, and somewhat closer to Bethany’s shape, as it is natural for a chef to be large and fat. It’s how chefs are, and Dolce is a very good chef who will light up the instant he spots you, since it is very nice to have a guest in the kitchens.

Do wash your hands though. Really, please, he is working with food here and stations must be kept sterile. Other than that, feel free to stay and watch him work, for he is a very good worker.

Dressed in proper chefly attire, consisting of poofy toque blanche, white double-breasted jacket, black-and-white houndstooth-patterned pants, and a white apron, he is the very picture of chef-ish professionality, so please, do not find his metal body off-putting. He was made for this type of job, you see, quite literally made, and he most certainly loves his passion here.

But yes, his appearance, one must address that. As stated previously, he is large and rotund, possessing a “skin” of black and chrome metal. Black overall, chrome at the joints and extremities such as fingernails. He has a mouth, because that is a necessity, consisting of a vertical grill. About eight or so steel bars, spaced evenly below a flat, almost-bovine nose. Above said nose is one eye where his right eye should be placed, and a dial where his left eye should be. You may note him adjusting this dial as he works, and you may notice points of his body shifting as he does. 

You see, Dolce is a professional chef, and that means he must be prepared to work with a variety of dishes and he has taken steps to ensure he is capable of making almost anything on request, which means his body must be the right temperature to keep the dishes at the right temperature. As such, when the dial is turned, the vents on his body either go a burning red or a cold blue. Try not to bother him when he is in “red mode”, as he is likely working hard on something and may be less patient with you.

Otherwise, do feel free to make requests if you want a meal, as he will prepare just about anything on request. He will not harm himself or Estate residents, and Lucille will still be there, so try not to be too much of a smarm. Also, it is recommended that you do not say something like “make me food”, as his grasp of the English language, while impressive, is not perfect. Food, he understands, and honestly, it’s not his place to judge a person’s fetishes, so he will acquiesce to your request with a swiftness that you will not get out of. So be careful with your words.

Otherwise, simply return to the dining room, and wait for your food. Lucille will bring it out as soon as it’s done, and it will be delicious.

8 - Uzia

While walking through the manor halls, you may notice something floating near the walls. Up high, by the ceiling, where they may watch you pass by. They are little things, resembling jellyfish in general shape, though they are in the air, so more like “jellyfloats”. Granted, fish isn’t a synonym for swim, so that doesn’t quite work, but they’re not jellybirds...The point being, you might notice these little things, and Lucille will flinch if she does notice them.

They creep her out, you see, and you might notice her nearby bodies going completely inert in their presence. If you’re curious as to why she’s so nervous, look closer, and you’ll notice the little eyes lining these crimson creatures. The human eyes, to be clear. Perfectly shaped, human eyes, wide open in what could be surprise or terror. The irises match the color of the Uzia, the little floating monster, and you might notice there are variants, but you’ll get to that later. 

The ones here, the first Uzia you see, are small, floating creatures with dome-like bodies and multiple smooth tentacles drifting down and hanging in the air. They are partially translucent, and you can see the scarlet nerves spread throughout their crimson bodies. Around the middle of their bodies are a ring of eight human eyes with red irises and black pupils and white sclerae, spaced evenly, and staring at you the instant you notice them. Their eyes will turn to look at you, and there will be a low crackle in the air as they wait to see what you will do.

At which point, Lucille will return in the company of a different large man named Boris, who you will properly meet later. He will handily grab the Uzia and put them in a jar, nodding to you as he passes by and Lucille breathes a bubbly sigh of relief. 

She will apologize for her lack of professionalism, but she really can’t stand those things. They’re not even harmful, they’re just creepy. The most they can do is give you a little sting if you get too close.

Note that this is information from the perspective of a marble woman. This is not the perspective of a flesh and blood human. Flesh and blood burns and boils far more easily, and the red Uzia of eyes are territorial creatures. Walking through the halls will not disturb them, but approaching their walls and reaching up towards them without the proper equipment will result in a small beam, akin to a cartoonish laser, bursting from their eye and searing straight through your skin and blood and bone. And then they will swarm you, because you are a threat, and continue firing until you stop being one.

There are other variants, also, as stated previously. The “eyezia”, as you may be prompted to call them, actually come in three variants. You may think there’s a fourth, but no, that’s a different type entirely. One variant is green and tends to petrify, while the other is cyan and tends to freeze.

There are also other species! Earzia, mozia, nozia, flezia, solzia and one type you’re guaranteed to see later, assuming you make it to that point. You may even want to try collecting them all! It could be a fun little game for you, if one that could turn very lethal if poorly done.

Just don’t stack them. You may be tempted to do so, but don’t. It won’t turn out well.

9 - Brannagen

You were told to stay on the path. Lexi was very clear about this, but then you’re apparently a poor listener, so this was inevitable. 

To have this happen, at some point, you decided to walk off of the clearly marked cobblestone pathways and onto the lawn or even into the flower beds proper. Further, you decided to do this where Lexi was not active, so she did not notice and stop you immediately. Now though, the vibrations of your foot hitting the dirt has already signaled and awakened one of the garden’s residents, one Mister Brannagen.

You’ll notice his approach by the slight shifting and sinking of earth nearby you. If you have fallen into any hole formed in the lawn, you are already being beaten, poisoned, and/or strangled to death by the immense worm now wrapped around you. You will most likely not get a good view of Brannagen at any point while still being able to survive the encounter, so for the sake of clearness, a description shall be provided.

Brannagen is a very long and tall tan-brown worm, several yards in length and possessing of a large, flat, spade-like head, akin to a shovel if a shovel had a ridged body like the world’s most menacing accordion. It’s for propulsion, you see, and Brannagen is quite good at propelling himself through solid earth as though he is outright swimming through it. A further sign of his presence is, in fact, the earth beginning to liquefy around his prey, so that is somewhat literal. 

Regardless, you should run. The path won’t help you by this point, since he already knows you’re there, and he will pursue you. Entirely out of amusement, mind you. He can expect to be fed whenever he needs food, so it’s not out of a predatory urge for a meal. No, he’s doing this because he finds it enjoyable. He is hunting you because it is fun.

The chase is a delight, and as such, he will not be dissuaded by obstacles or inconveniences. It’s a point of pride to catch you, and the more you struggle and escape, the more invested he becomes in “winning”. He will not listen to your pleas, because it’s hard to hear through solid earth, and he won’t engage you in banter because he doesn’t have a mouth. At least not one capable of vocalization. He does have one capable of drinking your innards like a smoothie, so be aware of that.

So run. Run, run, and keep on running, until you reach a point that he cannot chase you. The manor, the fountain, and the pond are all places he won’t go, though the latter two are still very poor choices, as you will soon notice.

10 - Darren

Whether or not you’re in the process of being pursued by an immense worm seeking your violent death, you may notice a horse standing in then garden’s pond, or in the garden’s fountain. The former is more likely than the latter, since he is technically not allowed in the fountain, but you might see him in either place.

That horse is Darren. You may be drawn in when you see him, because he is a very beautiful horse, sparkling white in the moonlight as though the moon itself was acting as his spotlight. His mane will be a brilliant blue, like bluebell flames curling from his head, and will most assuredly show him as an ethereal, otherworldly being. He’s not trying to pretend differently.

Really, it’s better if you think he is otherworldly, because otherwise you may start having questions like “is that horse standing on water?” and “why is its torso weirdly elongated?”. 

It’s to fit more riders. That’s why.

Anyhow, Darren will whinny and nicker and do many horse-ish things as he shows how very beautiful and lovely he is. He may even walk to the water’s edge and stare with big, watery-blue eyes at you, as though tugging at the strings of your heart and eliciting sympathy for this poor unfortunate water horse, who just wants some companionship.

It might not work though, and which point he’ll huff and wander away from you, acting standoffish and as though he’s too good for you, you poor pathetic wastrel, and really, why should he pay you any attention at all? All while glancing back every so often to see if you seem any more interested than before.

And, if you happen to be being chased by Brannagen, then he’ll promptly leap into action! Well, he’ll leap to the edge of the pond and make very loud noises at you as he tries to convey that you should ride him to safety. You’re his friend! He won’t let you die!

Because he’ll kill you himself, of course. It’s a game he and Brannagen play, you see. While Brannagen does enjoy the thrill of the hunt, Darren is more of a deceptive predator, and the two occasionally act in conjunction. Brannagen chase the prey to Darren, who will look as though he is a very inviting steed who will help them get away. At which point, once they leap onto the noble water horse, they will be promptly dragged beneath the surface of pond/fountain, because as it turns out, Darren’s body is actually shockingly sticky. 

Rather unpleasantly adhesive, really, and even the slightest touch to his body will get a person’s hand stuck there completely, whereupon he will pull them down and drown them. Or, if he’s feeling impatient, he may just begin tearing them open with his unpleasant teeth.

Not to worry though, if you do happen to meet this fate. Your mutilated body will be tossed back to Brannagen, so he can properly drink your now waterlogged corpse. The water gives it an interesting taste, you see. As for if Brannagen catches you, if you’re close enough to the pond, he’ll still toss your drained and desiccated corpse to his pal, because that’s just what friends do for each other, and jerky is still fine to eat.

So do try to avoid trusting watery horses, they really aren’t good for you. Massive worms aren’t either, but at least you know death is coming there. Just be good at sprinting and run past both of them, if you need to. That, or start shouting for Lexi. She won’t help you with Brannagen because she already explained the warning there, but if she sees Darren in the fountain, she’ll start shouting at the now cowering idiot, and Brannagen might pause in his chase to go “watch” that instead.

Friends though they may be, sometimes it’s just fun to watch someone get yelled at.