#this place gotta get off its high horse and i got more important shit to do

[bma-2020]

If youre upset that I‘m not really online anymore I’m sorry but I’m working two jobs now and its not like most people were actively interested in writing with me anyways as much as just reblogging things from me for themselves or to respond once or twice and claim ‘oh we’re so open to writing with anyone! look we write w females im so special!’ for free brownie points and honestly im not abt the fake shit

[lunarsaga]

EPISODE 5: The Band of Seven, Resurrected

WELCOME TO EPISODE 5! So far, episode 6 is up on my Patreon already, and episode 7 is in progress. Support me on Patreon to see stuff first!

IMPORTANT: I am starting to integrate the art into the story a little differently! Instead of just visualizing a moment in the scene, the image will replace the lines it's depicting. It'll work more like a hybrid graphic novel, that way it'll flow better. (So don't skip over the art, read it like you would a western comic!)

Reminder: [Dialogue like this is English!]

EPISODE 5, LESSGO! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

It was a bit of a long flight between the bone-eater’s well and the spot where Luna last left her sister and her friends.

They were still headed northeast, still trying to find Naraku. But Luna’s supply of ammunition only lasted so long, and she decided she probably needed more medical supplies if they were all gonna make it past this war with Naraku. So she’d gone back to the modern era for a few days, and called Alice to get her connections with other Hunters in Japan—so Luna could make more Sacred Salt rounds without having to explain to international customs why she was getting a bunch of empty shotgun shells, non-native herbs, and a few other assorted (weird) things she needed.

So she’d gone home for a few days. Thankfully, she didn’t have to walk; Airisu (who still objected to Luna calling her ‘Alice’, but agreed to the simple nickname ‘Ai’) in full demon form could fly pretty fast, but she ran out of steam after about an hour. It took them a full day (including rest time) to get back to the village, and the same on the way back.

But before they joined back up with their friends, Luna had a stop to make.

It ain’t hard to miss, she thought snarkily, he’s like a damn homing beacon.

Finally, among all the green of the forests, she spotted a speck of white. Easy. “There they are!”

Ai set them down just behind the little group of travelers—Rin, the little imp Jaken, the big horse-dragon (Ah-Un, Luna believed?), and heading the line was, of course, Lord Fussy Britches himself. Rin spotted them before they touched down, and greeted delightfully:

“Miss Luna!”

The Hunter’s arrival brought the others to a halt, and for some reason, Luna found a very smug satisfaction in the incredibly irritated, over-the-shoulder side eye she got from Sesshomaru. But she paid him no mind; she was here for Rin.

Luna held out her hand, unfolding her fingers to reveal three beautiful pearls, strung on a little leather cord. Each of them glinted with an odd pink sheen and were warm to the touch; anyone with any sort of spiritual senses might’ve picked up on the soft energy radiating from them.

Luna tied the cord tightly at the ends and moved to slip it over the little girl’s head.

“As if she would ever need such a ridiculous thing!”

Luna swore one of these days, she was gonna drop kick that little frog. “Look, dude—”

“It’s Jaken, insolent human!”

“—I’m just looking out for her. No need to burst a blood vessel.”

“What is she to you?”

Luna was actually shocked to be addressed by Sesshomaru himself. He was still giving her the side eye, but there was less irritation and more of… something Luna couldn’t place. Maybe she was flirting with death, but she couldn’t resist.

She stood tall, chin high, and responded: “What is she to you?”

There was the anger: contained, but frigid and harsh as the Arctic behind those amber eyes. Sesshomaru did not answer her, but Jaken sure did.

“How dare you, human! Your nerve is surpassed only by your stupidity to speak to Lord Sesshomaru that way! Surely you wish for death!”

Only sometimes. “Can it, Kermit!” She snapped at him, “I ask because he’s always leaving her alone, with nothing but you to protect her! You, who are half her size and don’t have much in the way of defense!” She moved her challenging gaze to Sesshomaru again, steadfast. “So I ask again, what is she to you, if you leave her with barely any protection so often? Because to me, she’s a friend and I care about her, so I brought her these as a last resort option, in case you’re not around and she needs help.”

There it was, that unreadable expression again. Sesshomaru was definitely incomparable at hiding his true emotions—something Luna could absolutely not stand. Tense silence hung in the air for a moment, before Luna shrugged, holding her hands up.

“Hey, think of it this way,” She said, trying a sly little smile, “You’re a busy guy. It’s one less thing you have to worry about. And if she never needs them, at least it’s a pretty necklace.”

Man, this guy was good at keeping quiet. But now, the icy glare was gone. Luna swore she could see just the tiniest arc of a silver eyebrow before the demon turned back around on the path they’d all been heading.

“Jaken, let’s go.”

Flabbergasted, Jaken tripped over himself trying to follow. “Y-yes milord!”

Grinning, Luna got back down to Rin’s level. “You take care, okay kid?”

“I will! And thank you so much for these— I don’t think I’ll need them because Lord Sesshomaru always comes to save me, but I’ll wear them anyway!”

“That’s all I ask,” This little angel was definitely gonna need it at some point. “But if you do need me, I’ll always be there for you, okay? I promise.”

The smile on Rin’s face could’ve melted the ice caps. “Thank you.”

Luna stopped her as she started to leave. “Hold on, one more thing. Each one only works once before it shatters, so you gotta save them for when you’re really in trouble, okay?”

“Okay, I will! Bye, Miss Luna!” Rin grinned, waving at her friend before hurrying after the demons.

Luna chuckled, turning back to Ai for a second before something occurred to her. “Hey, Sesshomaru!”

He didn’t turn to look at her this time, but he did pause in his walking.

Good enough. “I heard there was something going down in the Northeast—direction of the Ox and Tiger. Something to do with Naraku. Thought you might like to know.” She didn’t wait to see if he heard or registered what she said; she just hopped back on Ai’s back, and the two of them took off.

“I hope you know conflating bravery with stupid pride is more than likely to get you killed one of these days.” Ai said as she lifted into the sky.

“Oh most definitely,” Luna laughed. “But as much of a pompous man-child as he is, you can tell he cares for that girl more than he’s willing to admit.”

“That may be, but he’ll definitely kill you if you keep disrespecting him.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, for Rin’s sake.” Luna’s voice was soft, carried off by the wind. “That little angel’s been through enough, she deserves someone in her corner.”

~    ~    ~

Finally catching sight of their friends again was a bit of a relief for both Luna and Ai. It had been a long couple of days, going all the way home and coming back. Part of Luna hoped they’d get just a little bit of rest before whatever shit hit the fan next, but another part knew the odds on that were pretty low. Still, it was nice to be back.

Kagome was the first to spot them as they flew in. “It’s Luna!”

“Luna’s back!” Shippo proclaimed joyfully.

“Hey, y’all,” Luna greeted as Ai touched down. She hopped off the demon’s back as her friends offered their greetings. “What’d I miss?” She asked.

Miroku was the one to answer. “Quite a lot. It seems that we may encounter a new enemy: the local villagers recently informed us of a group of mercenaries called the Band of Seven. The villagers believe these ruthless killers may have been brought back from the dead.”

With a grin on her face, Luna shrugged at the idea. “Undead mercs, huh? Nothin’ we can’t handle.” She held up her fist for her sister to bump it, and as Ai changed back to her human form, Luna noticed their little group was smaller than it should’ve been. “Where’s Sango?”

Kagome bumped fists with her sister, smiling at Luna’s nonchalant comment. “She went off with Kilala. I sensed a Jewel Shard nearby earlier… so I think she may have gone to look for Kohaku.”

Luna didn’t have time to respond. Off in the distance, she heard the distinctive echo of a sound she was all too familiar with.

Inuyasha hopped up onto a tree limb, hoping to get a look at what was happening. He couldn’t see it, but he sure as hell could smell it. “And it ain’t from just a handful of people, either.”

So much for a second to rest, Luna chuckled to herself as she tightened the straps on her backpack and immediately kicked into gear. “What’re we waiting for, then?”

And off they were, charging headlong into danger as always. Luna could sense something was up; more so than usual. The stench of blood was never a good sign in the first place, but there was something else setting off warning bells. Something she couldn’t put a finger on.

The smell got stronger and stronger, until… they reached its source. Despite the amount of nasty shit she’d seen in her ten years of hunting supernatural monsters, there were some things that still turned her stomach, and seeing a single human being standing in a veritable ring of blood and gore was definitely one of them. His black hair was pulled into a twist; his lips were painted red, he had blue tattoos like tear tracks under each eye, and one side of his kimono was tucked up under his belt. The dude was just squatting in the middle of the carnage, eyeballing the barrel of a matchlock gun like it was his first time seeing one (which, hell, it might be, she thought to herself; in this time, they would’ve only recently been invented). He seemed completely unbothered by the dozen and a half bodies of freshly murdered warriors and their horses surrounding him.

Inuyasha was the one to get to the scene just ahead of the others, calling back over his shoulder: “Stay back! Don’t come over here!”

Instinctively, Luna remained in front of her sister, her arm out to try and block her view. Her stomach was churning, and her hand was poised to pull her gun if needed. No way this guy could be human… right?

“Did… that one person do all this?” Kagome’s voice was a shocked whisper.

It was then that the guy in the middle noticed them. He stood, his sword over his shoulder and his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Are you the one I’ve been looking for?” He asked, a grin on his face as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Are you Inuyasha?!”

“Got a bad feeling about this.” Luna mumbled, “That guy isn't a demon, is he?”

“I don’t think so,” Kagome uttered back to her, “I don’t sense a demonic aura….”

“How’d you know my name?!” Inuyasha demanded.

He got no answer out of the guy with the sword. Instead, the guy squealed: “You’re adorable!”

A dumbfounded silence fell over the group. Luna glanced around at the others to make sure she didn’t just lose her mind—but no, the general consensus among her friends was along the lines of ‘what the actual fuck?’

“I especially love those fuzzy ears of yours!” The guy continued, licking his lips. “I want them~”

Alright, so this guy was nuts. Luna had had enough of ignoring the bad vibe she was picking up from him. She dropped her bag next to Kagome’s bike and readied herself for a fight: detached the ammo bag and shotgun holster from her pack and slung them over her shoulder, slipped her short sword through one of the belt loops on her jeans, and pulled her shotgun to make sure it was in hand and loaded. She kept her eyes moving back and forth between Inuyasha and the dude with the sword during the next exchange:

“Who are you?” Inuyasha demanded, “What are you after? You don’t smell like a living person, you reek like corpses and graveyard soil!”

No answer.

“Inuyasha,” Miroku said in realization: “Could he be—?”

“Yep,” Inuyasha confirmed, before calling out to the guy with the sword again: “Some villagers were talking! They said some disgusting specter rose up from the grave. That’d be you, I presume!”

Right, zombies, Luna thought to herself; if he really is undead, the Sacred Salt won’t do as much as it would a demon… It’d sting, but what I really need is-… She smirked and holstered her gun again, grabbing a different weapon from the bottom of her bag.

“Are you one of the Band of Seven?!” Miroku asked of the specter as Luna was tuning back in. “Answer me!”

After a long pause as the specter seemed to size the monk up, his response was even worse than before. “Inuyasha really is good looking, but you’re pretty sexy yourself~”

Luna snorted so hard she thought she was gonna eject her brain through her nose. Ai whacked her in the arm as a warning.

“No one minds if I suck him up, do they?” Miroku grumbled.

“No.” Inuyasha said, flatly.

“Hold on!” Kagome said, “He’s got a Sacred Jewel Shard! He must’ve been revived with the power of the Shard!”

“So that was what I was sensing,” Luna mumbled, “but why does it feel off...?”

“Where’d you get the Jewel Shard?!” Inuyasha once again attempted to pose a question to their opponent, only to once again receive a weird, adoring response:

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry~!”

“Shut up!” Inuyasha shouted, jumping forward and drawing his sword. “Alright, dead man, you’d better start talking to me, and I want real answers!”

The expression on the specter’s face shifted from one of reverence to one more sadistic as he regarded Tetsusaiga. “That’s an interesting sword you have there… let’s see whose is stronger.” He lifted his own sword, making an odd motion around his head and shoulders with it as if he were gearing up for something. “Yours or mine?!”

When he brought his arm down, something that looked almost like a bolt of silver lightning shot from his blade. Inuyasha barely had the chance to block it as it cut an arc through the air toward him.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome called out in surprise.

“Stay back!” Miroku threw his arm out in an attempt to shield the others. “It’s some kind of trick sword!”

“That’s my cue!” Ai shifted into full demon form, jerking her head at the sisters and the little fox. “All aboard!”

Kagome climbed on no issue, but Luna glanced at Miroku, who made no move to follow them. “You coming?”

“I’ll be alright, you keep them safe.” Miroku said, resolute. Not about to argue, Luna climbed on the demon’s back and Ai leapt into the air above the fight.

“You gonna be okay holding all of us after that long flight?” Luna asked her friend.

“I’m fine, it’s the same weight as you with your pack on.” Ai sassed back.

“Yeah well, fuck me for being prepared,” Luna laughed, starting to prep the other weapon she’d brought.

Kagome managed to tear her eyes from the confrontation below to try and see what her sister was doing. “What did you bring, Luna?”

Luna grinned as she clicked the last accessory into place, then turned back to show her sister. “This? This is my baby.” She held up her favorite weapon: it was a fully-customized folding compound crossbow as long as Luna’s arm. She pressed a release on the side, and the arms shot into place, making both Shippo and Kagome jump.

“Whoa!” The fox demon exclaimed, “What kind of a weapon is that?!”

“It’s a crossbow, Shippo,” Kagome explained, “It’s kind of like my bow, but the arrows are smaller and it’s easier to fire.”

“Self-loading, too,” Luna smirked as she strung it up, “The ‘arrows’ are called bolts or darts. This thing can shoot way faster than a longbow, and since we’re dealing with Zombie Harley Quinn down there—” She grabbed a bolt from her ammo bag to show it to them, “—we’re gonna need these. They’re tipped with pure silver. Great for dealing with Vampires, Werewolves, The Undead, and The Unholy.”

Shippo reached out to touch it, but Kagome stopped him, shaking her head rapidly. “It’s safe to assume you shouldn’t touch anything Luna has in her bag, Shippo.”

The kid swallowed nervously. “G-got it...”

Below them, the fight continued. Inuyasha could barely avoid each strike of the snakelike sword, and his opponent only seemed to be having more and more fun.

“What do you think of Jakotsu of the Band of Seven, huh?!” He shouted as he swung the sword once more.

“Not too much!” Inuyasha came back at him with Tetsusaiga, but to no avail.

Kagome gasped. “He needs help!”

“That’s what this baby’s for,” Luna grinned, patting her crossbow. “Ai, can you stay out of reach of the sword but get me close enough to shoot?!”

“It’ll take a miracle!”

“Better start praying, then,” Luna lined up the shot, finger still as stone on the trigger. There was a familiar voice in the back of her head; she could hear her father saying: “Aim for where they’re gonna be, not where they are.”

I know, dad. She tried not to sigh audibly as she managed to get Jakotsu’s head in her crosshairs and pulled the trigger, quick as a viper.

And… almost missed him.

The consecrated silver bolt seemed to burn through the air as it shot just centimeters shy of the specter’s nose and grazed his arm, burning a hole in his kimono. He whipped his attention to the woman who shot it.

“How dare you interfere?!” He snarled, rearing his arm back and whipping his blade toward them.

Luna felt her stomach drop.

“You idiot!” Ai snapped at her, trying to fly out of range of the sword as Kagome and Shippo both clung, screaming, to Luna’s back. Just as the sword arched toward them, there was a familiar cry of:

“HIRAIKOTSU!”

And Jakotsu’s blade was then tangled around the aforementioned boomerang. All three riding on Ai’s back sighed in relief when they saw Sango swoop in on Kilala. Ai touched down just as Kilala did, transforming into her human form and unceremoniously dumping the sisters on their asses.

“Are you all okay?” Sango called over to them.

“We’re fine!” Shippo answered.

“Perfect timing, Sango!” Kagome said.

“Some weapon, Luna!” Ai huffed in the Hunter’s direction. Luna just stuck her tongue at her.

Jakotsu was practically red in the face, shrieking in frustration: “What is with all you vile women?! Can’t you see I’m trying to battle Inuyasha?!” In the same breath, he whipped his sword again, toward Sango this time. The movement freed Hiraikotsu, and ended up leaving a small slice on Sango’s arm as Jakotsu pulled it back.

“Stay out of this!” He continued, “None of you will interfere!”

But their “interference” had served Inuyasha well enough: it gave him just the opportunity he needed to rear back and punch the specter in the face.

“Shut up! I’m tired of listening to your pointless babble!” Inuyasha growled.

Jakotsu grunted as he tumbled back, then rubbed his cheek and pouted like a kicked puppy. “That was cruel…”

“Oh, get over it!” Inuyasha snapped, “Now tell me who gave you the Sacred Jewel Shard before I have to seriously hurt you!”

Kagome and Miroku rushed to see if Sango was okay, but she assured them that it was just a graze; she was fine. Her attention was more on the subject at hand.

“I have a feeling that the shard came from Naraku,” She said, somberly. She looked at Kagome. “When you sensed a Jewel Shard earlier… it was Kohaku. I saw the Saimiyosho around him as well.”

“That means that your brother is still under Naraku’s control…” Miroku said. Sango nodded.

Luna had set her weapon down next to her backpack, and came back with a bandage for Sango’s arm. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how the hell they were gonna handle this—first an undead band of Ronin, now they have something to do with Naraku. What was Naraku playing at...?

“Gotta wonder what the hell is next…” Luna mumbled sarcastically.

Seconds later, she would regret asking. A cloud of black smoke poured over the cliffside, drifting right toward them.

Like he knew what was happening, Jakotsu got up and collected his sword. “Inuyasha! You should get out of here while you can! Bye!” And with that, he was just… gone.

“What the hell—” Inuyasha broke off with a startled yell when the cloud reached him. “Its poison!”

“But where’s it coming from?!” Miroku wondered.

“We need to move.” Luna reassembled her bag in less than thirty seconds—side effect of doing it so often. “We can figure out what the hell is going on when we’re safely away from here!”

Why do I feel like we stepped into something huge here? Luna thought to herself as the group of friends moved away from the cloud of gas.

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Soooo, bee haw related asks huh, cool, the white fang are cattle rustlers so Blake is insanely good with a lasso, while yang can put a hole in a quarter after someone flips it in the dark, they decided its a good idea to traid skills after they are partnered up at Beacon Ranch

There a whole lotta creative liscence taken with shooting and lassoing here 😅

I hope y’all like competitive bees!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Listen pardner…” Yang drawled, lifting her hat up slighting and leaning back on the fence, toothpick hanging loosely from her lips. “There ain’t no way no rope throwin’ gon’ impress me. Any body can throw a rope. Takes real skill to shoot a quarter in the dark, y’hear, Blake?”

“Sweetheart…” the cat faunus woman in front of her practically crooned, slivers of gold glinting from underneath her own hat. “If Just anybody could throw a rope, Ozpin wouldn’t have hired me. You need me.”

“Oh please, Blake. I could do your job easi-“

Yang stopped and quirked a brow when amber eyes glinted below Blake’s black hat dangerously, seeming to shift to a molten gold. Blake’s hands shifted to the two lassos that she kept at each hip and unhooked them from her belt and started spinning them at her sides, her movements slow and lazy at first but quickly picking up speed.

“Miss Xiao Long…” Blake said dryly, her golden eyes narrowing as Yang stood up and stepped forward her head tilted curiously. “I don’t appreciate your tone. Maybe we need to do something about it?”

“Like wh-“

Yang was cut off by Blake expertly sending her lassos out towards her and she lifted her arms high to block the incoming trap… only to realise too late that both ropes were headed to her gun holsters that were slung low on her hips. Blake’s lassos looped around each gun and yanked them out and into her hands, disarming her. Blake’s golden eyes gleamed with a challenge as she freed the guns and twirled them around in her hands before she quickly unloaded them, sending Yang’s magazines to the ground, before she hooked them into the front of her jeans with a smirk, her shirt lifting up to reveal the toned skin beneath.

“Holy-“

“Anybody can shoot in a sharp line. But it’s takes real skill to disarm our finest sharp shooter on the ranch.” Blake said, mocking Yang’s earlier words. “Now, these guns are real pretty so I think I might hold onto them for a bit. Come find me when you’re ready to admit defeat, cowgirl.”

Yang stared after her in shock as Blake sauntered away, her thumbs hooked through her belt loops and disappeared around one of the buildings.

“Goddamn.” Yang whispered to herself, taking her hat off her head and ruffling her long, blonde hair ruefully as she stared after Blake with a slightly dopey grin. “Now that’s a woman.”

She paused for a moment and blinked as she realised, later than she should have, something very important.

“A woman that stole my guns!”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake smirked lazily as Yang strolled into the saloon, her spurs clinking as she walked, an air of false nonchalance about her. But when lilac met amber, Blake watched the way Yang’s jaw tightened at the sight of Blake spinning her guns around her fingers lazily. The ranch hands surrounding Blake all glanced up and winced, patting Blake on the back and wishing her good luck as they moved a safe distance away.

Still within viewing distance of the show, though.

“You wanna give me my guns back now, Sugar?”

“Hmm… maybe.”

Blake bit back a laugh when Yang growled, her gaze narrowing as she turned a chair around and sat on it, leaning forward and crossing her arms over the back rest.

“What d’ya want, woman?” Yang asked, tilting her head slightly as her sharp gaze carefully examined Blake’s face.

“I want you to admit that you were wrong about me.” Blake said simply, placing the guns on the table out of Yang’s reach. “I disarmed you. Something that no one has been able to do, cowgirl. That’s gotta say something.”

“It says that yer a smartass.” Yang drawled, a competitive gleam entering her eyes. “I admit, you got the jump on me this time. But I still doubt that ropin’s as hard as you claim.”

“Funny. I could say the same thing about shooting.” Blake leaned forward, biting back a smile. She would never admit it… but she was having fun.

“Yeah? Well… how ‘bout we make this more interestin’, then, pardner.” Yang said with a sly grin. “I set up some trick shots that you’ll have to shoot and you set up some kinda challenge for me with a rope.”

“Make it two and you got a deal.” Blake smirked, her feline ears flicking forward with intrigue. “I’m ambidextrous. If I’m shooting with two guns, then you’re going to rope with two hands.”

“Pfft.” Yang scoffed. “Easy. What are the wagers?”

“Loser buys drinks for the winner for a month?”

“I like the way you think, Belladonna.” Yang chuckled, leaning her chin on her forearms and grinning up at Blake. “I almost feel bad that I’m gonna kick yer ass.”

“That’s funny.” Blake laughed, delighted with the challenge. “I don’t feel bad about kicking yours at all.”

“Feisty.”

“As you’ll find out, Yang.”

“I certainly hope so, Blake.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake, admittedly, may have bitten off more than she could chew. She watched as the two kids stroll 20 paces away and got ready to throw their coins.

Blake could shoot. She could shoot a bandit and a rustler. She could take aim at a rattler that was about to bite her herd or her horse and protect her animals. Hell, when she was with the White Fang and rustled cattle, she had taken out her fair share of deputies and sheriffs.

But that was basic shots. This was sharp shooting. She had heard the rumours about Yang. Had heard tale that she could shoot a hole in a quarter at 50 paces… in the dark, using only the glint of steel to direct her shot.

Ugh. This is what she got for trying to show off.

“Alrighty, Blake. Usually I shoot at 50 paces and at night but I’m gon’ be nice and getcha to shoot at 20 paces durin’ the day. When yer ready, Doll… let the kids know.” Yang called lazily from the crowd, a smug expression in her face.

Blake growled under her breath. Cocky little shit, wasn’t she? Regardless, she inhaled deeply and nodded to the kids and took aim…

And took out two windows instead of the quarters.

“Well, shoot.” Yang grinned cheekily, no doubt knowing exactly what she was saying. “That’s not meant to happen. I hope you’ve got enough lien for the upcoming month, Blake.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Yang.” Blake stomped over to her and calmly (well… as calmly as she was capable of at that moment as the crowd chuckled) placed Yang’s gun’s into their holsters, purposefully giving them a tug and leaned forward. “I can’t wait to wipe that smug smile off of your face.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“I’ll show you a small series of tricks and I want you to copy them as best as you can, cowgirl.” Blake said calmly as Yang watched carefully. She couldn’t get this wrong. How hard could it be?

“Got it, Sugar.” Yang smirked.

That smirk quickly fell away as Blake effortlessly danced through her lassos, bouncing and hopping between the loops. She made it look so easy… but not even Yang’s sharp eyes could keep up. Yang gulped, her confidence starting to crack.

This was what she got for trying to show off, wasn’t it?

“Here you are, Sweetheart.” Blake smirked with a brow raised challengingly as she passed Yang the lassos and stepped back.

“Pfft.” But she wasn’t going to let Blake see the crack in her confidence. “This’ll be easy. That’s nothin’, Doll.”

Now… Yang could throw a lasso over a rogue cow if she needed to. She could tie knots. She could even make a rope. But she was starting to realise that this was a very different beast.

She inhaled deeply and began to twirl to loops to the sides and made the first jump into them… and quickly lost track of what she was doing as the noose tightened around her ankles, sending her off balance. She hopped, desperately trying to regain her balance, until the back of her legs hit something.

There was a loud splash as Yang fell tumbling into a water trough. Loud snickers ran through the crowd and if she didn’t know better, she’d say that the horse’s were snickering at her too.

“It’ll be easy, huh?” Blake teased as Yang pulled herself out and crouched, loosening the lasso and pulling it off her ankles and throwing both ropes at Blake, who caught it easily.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yang grumbled, despite the smile fighting its way into her lips as she, dripping water, glanced at Blake. “I guess ropin’s harder than I thought.”

“And I guess I can’t shoot as straight as I thought.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before they both began to laugh softly.

“Well…” Yang snorted, amused. “I guess that’s a draw. How’s that work out?”

“Let’s make it simple and say that we just have to buy each other drinks for a week?” Blake smiled genuinely as her left ear flicked. She had a really pretty smile, Yang realised.

“Sounds good to me.” She said before letting out a sigh. “I would suggest that I buy you one now… but I need to go change.”

“We can catch up later, then.”

“Sure thing, Blake.” Yang started to walk away but paused and glanced over her shoulder with a small side smile. “Jus’ so y’know, Blake… I’m looking forward to workin’ with you.”

“You too, Yang.”

Yang grinned, winked and waved as she walked back to her home. Life just got a lot more interesting around here.

[collecting-stories]

Golden - Daryl Dixon

A/N: Just some fluff 

Baby, don’t you know? That you’re my golden hour, the color of my sky, your set my world on fire, and I know everything’s gonna be alright. - Kacey Musgraves

\\\

“There’s nothing here.”  

“Ya ain’t even looking.”  

“I already did, it’s a pet store so unless you’re in the market for a beta fish there is nothing here.”  

“We’re not going back empty-handed.”  

“Well we aren’t gonna find anything here,” you turned your attention to the dog nudging your foot, “isn’t that right Dog?”  

“Where da ya suggest we look then? Since yer so smart?”  

“There was a Starbucks down the street, I could really go for a Pumpkin Spice Latte.” You replied, smiling as the slightest grin crossed Daryl’s face at your joke. So far he’d been one of the few people who didn’t constantly bitch about your attitude toward the state of the world.

“I ain’t got time fer yer comedy routine today.”

“Alright, honestly, there was a pharmacy not that far down the road, we could make it by foot.” You replied, swinging your legs over the counter and hopping down. Dog barked and nudged your leg. “I know, I am smart, thank you for saying so.”  

Daryl nodded, looking around the pet shop one more time before heading for the door. You grabbed a rope toy on your way, sticking it in your back pocket for Dog to play with later. Ever since he’d been back you had stuck close by him and Dog, the canine making life a little less bleak at times though it still made you nervous that Daryl brought the dog with him everywhere. You’d seen plenty of horses getting killed, not to mention you’d heard about Shiva.  

“I really do hope we find something Daryl, I know it’s important.” You mentioned, trailing behind him a little. Dog walked at your side and you kept glancing down to look at him.  

“I know.” He replied, glancing back at you.  

“I just don’t want you to think I don’t care or something.” You said.  

“Who said ya don’t?”  

You’d been with the group since after the hospital but before Alexandria. It was Rick that had found you in one of the houses on Noah’s street. You had survived for a while on your own and were hesitant to join any type of group but there was something about Rick, you trusted him. You got along with most everyone though Carol was always judgmental toward you and it took sometime before Daryl opened up.  

“Everyone says it.”  

“I know what’s what.” He replied, stopping in front of the old CVS, “this the place?”

“Yeah, this is it.” You ushered Dog into the building in front of you once Daryl had cleared it.  

There wasn’t much to find in the CVS either but you made do with what you could, left over prescriptions and some out of date vitamins, stale energy bars, some forgotten bottles of water, and kid stuff for the children in Alexandria. Once you’d filled your bag you picked through an old newspaper and settled on the counter, beginning a crossword puzzle. You had a small collection of crosswords that you were accumulating. Daryl had even gotten you a book of crosswords he had found on a run with Aaron.  

“Hey, Daryl, seven letter word or words for repeat?” You asked, catching sight of him as he walked out of one of the aisles.  

“Any letters?” He asked, coming over to where you were sitting. He went around the counter to the cigarette display. There were still some on the bottom shelf and he grabbed them, throwing three of the packs into his bag and opening the fourth.  

“O”

Daryl leaned over and looked at the paper, reading through the words you had already picked out. You smiled as you watched him. Ever since you’d begun including him in your crossword puzzling he had gotten pretty good at it. Sometimes you asked him questions that got him frowning and reminding you that he never even graduated high school but most of the time he joined in willingly. “It can be more than one word?”

“Yeah, look, this one was ‘on me’ so it could be more than one word.” You replied, pointing over to one of the words you’d already solved.  

“Sayover.”

“What?”

“If ya repeat something ya say it over right? So sayover.” He shrugged.  

“You are a genius Daryl Dixon.” You replied, smiling at him.  

While you wrote the word down Daryl looked over at you again. “Who told ya that ya don’t care?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You brushed it off again, reluctant to tell him.  

He nodded, moving away from you to check the rack of picked out stuff along the counter, “that’s fine I’ll ask Connie later, I’m sure ya told her.”

“She won’t tell you.” You replied, leaning back to look at him. All the loses that had piled up in the last few years had felt a little personal, taking the only people you had felt close to besides Daryl. Connie was a welcome edition in your life and had become a confidant of sorts.  

“Then why don’t you?”

“You don’t usually push the subject.” You pointed out, swinging your legs around to dangle off the side of the counter that Daryl was on.  

He moved over to stand between your legs and you shuffled closer to him. “Don’t want someone saying shit to ya that ain’t true.” He replied, shrugging like it wasn’t such a big deal that he kept asking.  

“I’m not bothered, I swear. And if I was I would tell you.” You replied, kissing him. Dog barked at being left out and you pulled away from Daryl, looking passed him to his companion. “I’m sorry, I’ve got kisses for you too promise.”  

“Yer sweeter to Dog than ya are ta me.”  

“I am not,” you laughed, “Dog’s just nicer to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He placed his hand on the back of your head and pressed his lips to your forehead in a quick kiss, “Ya done? We gotta head back.”

“When we get back you can help me with the rest of this crossword.”  

- 

Just because I can.

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @medievalfangirl @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @born-in-19-96  @mainokutan @uh-i-think-its-frank @nikki082489 @qrangr  @twdeadfanfic 

[springday-aus]

Disney Prince!AU with Wonho [Hoseok]

★ Wonho [Lee Hoseok] as Disney’s Hercules ★

moodboard link 

Group: Monsta X

Member: Lee Wonho / Hoseok

Genre: fluff, romance

part of the Disney Prince series 

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: 1.9k

born a demigod

son of Zeus and a mortal mother

he absolutely adores his mother

he’s not ashamed to say he’s a mama’s boy

on the other hand, he doesn’t really like to talk about his father

especially since he has these powers

the power of physical strength….

he’s not sure if they’re a good thing or a bad thing

like, sure he likes that he can help the elders carry stuff

you know, like their animals when they’ve broken a leg

or moving their houses to more convenient places

the whole village loves him bc they literally saw him grow up as a kid

he turned out so well for someone without a father

don’t be fooled—he can literally physically crush you like a grape, but he’s literally the sweetest boy

anyways

he’s been living normally

despite the whole ability to rip off a 100 year old tree

and lift up a wall 

or a house

or a 200 pound horse 

his life has been fairly normal up until the incident

one day, when Hoseok was about 16 years old

a couple of kids were stuck underneath a rock

okay, an understatement

it was a huge ass boulder

anyways

these kids were stuck underneath and Hoseok lifted it to let the kids out

since that day, the elders called him Wonho

meaning a brave lion, the protector of the village

since that day, he’s been doing around helping others a bit more 

he started putting himself out there to help people 

it was small but these tasks got gradually bigger

it started from saving kids

to fighting against monsters

to saving the entire universe (but that’s another story)

next thing he knew the entire village was calling him a hero

there were statues made of his figure 

his face was slapped on e v e r y t h i n g 

the gods made a star alignment for his stature

he became one of the most famous faces

some just like to call him a Greek god that fell from the heavens

he still blushes every time someone calls him that

the ladies swoon the hardest when he’s on his Pegasus high in the sky

and the light shines oh so perfectly to emphasize his perfect, chiseled face

geez this man is very attractive and he doesn’t even know it

moving on

it’s important to remember that he did not get to this position alone

he was able to train with/under Hyunwoo

Wonho wanted to understand how he can be a better hero

to protect the ones he loves

and those in the community 

he is such a good boy, I want to cry

anyways

he heard about how Hyunwoo trains heroes the best so he made his way over and

here he is

even after completing his training, he continues to work on himself

so if he can’t sleep or when people don’t need help

he would be in the gymnasium to work out

or he’d be doing practice training in an abandoned field that Hyunwoo had set up

as he got older, all he really does is help people and train to be better at what he’s doing

since he’s been helping out, the chaos has decreased significantly and he finds himself wandering elsewhere for adventure

this is how he meets you 

I mean, you wouldn’t say you were in danger

but also, you were in the woods and you didn’t know this one all that well

and you may or may not have ended up messing with this lake monster that you def shouldn’t have been messing with

so there you are

in the middle of a lake

being held hostage by some

ugly troll ass, centaur thing

(tbh, you couldn’t really tell what he was, a river guardian???)

I literally mean held btw

you were literally in this creep’s hand bc he’s the size of a giant

so Wonho was walking around the forest with Pegasus, trying to find a new place and see if anyone needed his help

and very faintly he hears something from the distance

“if you don’t put me down, I swear to cut off your balls and rip off your—”

oo he didn’t wanna hear that

but he still rushes towards it

that’s when he spots you in this monster’s hand, struggling to get out

he slowly approaches you two

Wonho: “uh, excuse me? sir? could you, um, let them go?”

you speak up first, without taking two glances at him

You: “keep moving junior, I can handle this—have a nice day”

you flash him a sarcastic smile, hoping he’ll move along with his day

but he doesn’t 

instead his shoulders kind of drop for a second, slightly disheartened, but only for a second

because he stands up straighter and pulls out his sword

Wonho: “you might be too close to his situation—I’m sorry to do this without your consent, but I have to do my job”

before anyone can say anything else, Wonho dives in and does what he does best

he fights off the bad guy

next thing you knew, you fell into the water and it’s all a blur

you fished yourself out, trying to dry off

Wonho managed to punch the living daylights out of the river guardian so he was just passed out and drowning in the river

but who cares about him

after Wonho ensures he’s not dead, but unconscious

(and Pegasus does his little cheer for him)

he moves over to you

Wonho: “..... hey”

You: “hi”

Wonho: “are you okay?”

You: “after getting all the water out of my ears, I’ve decided that I’ve been better”

Wonho: “sorry… about that—it was kind of stupid, I should have thought that out better”

You: “you think?”

you eye him up and down as you try to dry off your shoes

You: “they give you a name with those rippling pectorals?”

Wonho flushes, laughing rather awkwardly

Wonho: “they call me Wonho, but you can just call me Hoseok…”

you look at him again

he turns into a deeper shade of red under your eyes

You: “I prefer Wonder Boy”

he lets out another small laugh

Wonho: “what’s—what’s your name?”

you give him yours, as you wring out the bottom of your shirt into the water

he repeats it, with a small smile on his face

Wonho: “soooo, how’d you get mixed up with the—”

you finish for him

You: “the pinhead with hooves?”

he lets a little laugh out

it’s kind of cute

You: “well, you know how men are, they think no means yes and get lost means take me, I’m yours”

you let out an airy laugh as Wonho stands there confused

You: “don’t worry about it, Wonder Boy, you’ll figure it out eventually”

you stand up, ignoring the water that continues to drip down

You: “well, Seok, thanks for the help, but I gotta bounce”

Wonho: “ah…”

he can’t really hide his disappointment: “where—where are you going?”

You: “oh, you know, here and there”

you flash a smile at him: “I’ll see you around”

Wonho: “how?”

You: “life has its ways… bye bye Wonder Boy”

you walk off and disappear into the woods

Wonho finds himself still looking off, even as your figure disappears

Pegasus huffs at him, almost mockingly at how mesmerized he is at your presence

he turns to Pegasus and points a finger at him, as if he’s scolding him

Wonho: “not a word”

he continues to go on and eventually stumbles into a little town

…. your little town :)

obviously he didn’t realize

until he saw you again about a week later

you were hanging around a fruit stand that belonged to your friend’s 

you looked just as beautiful as he remembers 

and less angry 

Wonho: “hey” :)

You: “Wonder Boy, back to me so soon, miss me that much?”

Wonho: “yeah, I did”

oh

you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward

You: “so, you’re just hanging around town?”

Wonho: “it’s kind of like that”

You: “I heard some hero killed the monstrous lion, I should’ve realized it was you Wonder Boy”

Wonho: “ahhh…”

he flushes once again, rubbing the back of his neck

Wonho: “I—I’m no hero”

You: “sure you are, just remember, you are in a new town, take a break while you can”

You: “I will warn you though, it’s hard to find pretty sights in this dump”

Wonho: “I don’t think it’ll be that hard…. not without a guide at least…”

you look at him with a raised eyebrow

Wonho: “tHAt’S iF yoU wANT…. yoU don’T hAVE TO….”

you let out a laugh as he continues to flush into a darker red

he’s a cute boy, might as well shoot your shot

you wave to your friend as a silent goodbye and slowly start to walk off

without looking behind you, you shout out

You: “you coming, Wonder Boy?”

Wonho snaps out of his daydream that’s right in front of him

Wonho: “yes ma’am”

and thus the start of a beautiful relationship

Disney Prince!Wonho is as wonderful as it sounds

he already adores the life out of you

and he basically worships the ground you walk on

(as if you were the one with Greek god genes)

you, on the other hand, think he’s like a little puppy

a puppy that can kill you with his strength 

but a puppy

he loves praise

he needs attention

he loves affection

he’s basically a soft, gigantic puppy

this view kind of changed when you saw him in action

I mean you did see him in action that one time

but his life wasn’t really in danger

and lowkey he looks hot fighting

but like….

when he killed the Stymphalian Birds…

when he captured the cattle of Geryon….

I guess you kind of drew the line when you saw Cerberus on your front lawn

(he’s absolutely more adorable than people said, but it is still a three headed giant dog)

you were just concerned for him and the danger he was putting himself in

and Wonho kind of ate that shit up

but he did console you

he became a lot more careful to consider your feelings

that did mean more official training with Hyunwoo

but anything to make you happy

anyways

most of the time,  he stays to help the village

the elderly and kiddos there have grown to love him

I mean what’s not to love but

anyways

sometimes he does have to travel a bit farther for the king or something

but he always brings back some type of souvenir for you

he loves to spoil you

when he went to the Amazon, you got the most gorgeous flowers

another time, he brought some golden apples for you

he says it’s to make up the time away from you

and your heart absolutely melted

his presence makes up for it

he’s great okay

anyways

so you know how Pegasus is like his sidekick?

you two bonded 

he’s not sure how but 

Wonho loves that you and Pegasus get along

but y’all bonded a bit too much 

like you two won’t say anything but it’ll be on your faces when you’re judging him

moving on

you haven’t stopped calling him Wonder Boy

some days he prefers it

others, he prefers it when you call him Seok

so, affection 

this man needs it

whenever he’s in the same space as you

he’s like touch

it’s not like you’re gonna reject it

even if you roll your eyes, you always run into his arms

when he gets back from his trips

he doesn’t let you go for days

**cue you two waddling around because he’s backhugging you**

humor—while most of yours is dry

he still laughs and goes with it

he tells jokes unknowingly

like some of the stuff he says is ridiculous

and you just burst out laughing

you two are just very attuned with one another

very harmonious

very cute

Wonho: “when I’m with you, I don’t feel so alone”

You: “good thing you’re stuck with me then”

Wonho: “I wouldn’t have it any other way”

[awful-roffle-archive]

Meteors dot txt

A/N: this definitely got to a point i just took the characters and setting and did my own story with it but uh. its fine. no idea if i’ll ever come back to this but?? im running out of writing spoons rn so! you get this as is with its really choppy ending :^) nothing’s been proof read by someone else but i tried my best so uh. enjoy lmao

word count: 3,420

"Today's broadcast reports there will be a meteor shower raining over Pelican Town this evening! Make sure to take an umbrella with you! Hehe." The meteorologist quips before the broadcast goes back to the news about the latest about the Gotoro Empire. Rayzan sighs and shuts the TV off, sipping at his coffee.

"What's so important about some damn meteor shower? It's... what, space rocks? Big whoop." He mutters to himself, shoving a rather... strange (to put it lightly) tasting cheese cauliflower into his mouth. It's what he gets from buying food from Joja - hopefully he wouldn't start glowing or something as a side effect. With a grunt he pushes himself off of the floor, throwing the plastic container to the side. He'd clean it up later. Probably.

He jumps as there's a rapping on the janky screen door, and he instinctively grabs his gun from behind a potted plant. Pulling the door open, he aims it directly between the other's eyes.

"What the fuck do you want." His tone is harsh and cold, and he never breaks eye contact with her.

"Oh!" Maru stumbles backwards on the porch, holding her hands up. "I'm sorry! I just- uh-" She falters over her words, clearly taken aback.

"Spit it out."

"Can you put down the gun? Please?" Maru chooses her words carefully, keeping her hands in the air.

"I thought I made it perfectly fucking clear I didn't want anyone bothering me." He moves the gun downward, but his gaze still seems to burn through her.

"Well, yes, but..."

"But you wanted to anyways, right? You decided your high-fucking-horse is more important than my privacy."

There's a long pause before Maru says anything. She just stands there, gawking at him. "I just wanted to tell you about the meteor shower tonight. Everyone's going to be gathered at the beach, if you wanted to come." She speaks simply before turning around and stepping off the porch. "Yeah. I'm aware." He slams the door, the screens rattling as he locks it. "Yoba damn everyone in this fucking town." He grumbles and hides the gun once more.

Grabbing whatever clothes he could find from his dresser, he stares at himself in the mirror. So much for keeping up appearances, huh? He takes a deep breath and runs some hair gel through his hair, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He gags and spits into a bucket of lake water. His plumbing hadn't worked for, well, what felt like months now and he wasn't about to go ask Mrs. 'Oh how are you? Where are you from? How is the farm? Do you have any family?' Robin for help any time soon.

Pulling a shirt over his head he makes his way outside, staring at his rather sad attempt at a garden. He was supposed to be a farmer and he couldn't even keep a few peppers alive, let alone an entire farm's worth. Deciding to water the crops, despite them being... well, very dead, he tosses his farming tools aside and heads into town.

---

The walk always felt long and tedious. He had looked into getting a car before, but the walk to even GET to a dealership was way out of the question, and with the only bus in town out of commission, he was pretty much stuck in town and on foot. The sun beat down on him endlessly, almost taunting him for daring to move during the summer.

As soon as he reaches town he instantly heads for Joja. The saloon wouldn't be open for another few hours, and he sure as hell wasn't going to sit in Pierre's and listen to his badgering about how the farm was doing. Instantly being hit with the a/c of Jojamart he takes a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Quite the walk, isn't it? You should take a sip of the latest JojaCola flavor! NuBerry - a delicious combination of raspberry and cranberry thrown together by our team of talented scientists! Joja is not liable for any injuries or side effects that may occur while drinking NuBerry. NuBerry - Fresh and full of smiles!" Morris spews off like a recorded advertisement, making Rayzan roll his eyes. He instead heads back towards the freezers, holding it open and just soaking in the cold as he sinks to the floor.

“Probably shouldn't stand there with it open like that.” A voice comes up from behind him, leaning over his shoulder.

“You and I both know you don't care about their electric bills.” Rayzan smirks as he looks up to see Shane leaning over him. “Unless you've suddenly had a change of heart?” He puts a hand to his heart, leaning back.

“Nah. Last I heard there was some freezer monster back there. Snatches up kids that don't know better.” Shane quips and stands up straighter. “Besides, I gotta put these in there.” He motions to a palette of frozen pizza boxes.

“Mind if I nab one of those to go?”

“Hey, if you can get it past Morris be my guest.” Shane pauses, “But if you get caught I didn't see shit.” He grins before going back to restocking the freezer.

“You underestimate me greatly.” Rayzan snatches a box off of the pile, waiting until Morris was busy doing who-knows-what until stealthily stepping out the door with it.

“Oi, watch it kid.” Pam exclaims as Rayzan runs directly into her, almost dropping his box.

“Whatever.” Rayzan grumbles and rushes past her, wondering where the hell he could keep this for the time being. There was no way he was walking all the way back home for just this. Looking around he exhales before checking his watch. 10:04 am. Fuck. What was he supposed to do for at least another two hours before the saloon opened?

He could go to the mines... but that didn't solve his pizza dilemma. He groans before staring down at the river. Maybe... No, that would make it soggy. Shit. He settles on hiding it behind a rock in the shade – at least it would stay cool there. Wiping his hands off he heads past Pierre's, only to get stopped on his way.

“Hey, Rayzan! How is the farm coming along? You know, if you need anything we-”

“Yeah, yeah. You sell seeds and shit. I'm thoroughly aware. It's the only fucking shit you sell.” Rayzan interrupts her, turning back around with his arms crossed.

“Well... Pierre and I have discussed expanding our stock recently. If you have anything you'd like to see feel free to let us know!” Caroline smiles, holding up a small basket of tomatoes. “These are freshly grown from our garden, they're rather fresh, too. We were thinking about selling these, would you like to try one?”

“...I'll pass.” Rayzan rolls his eyes, continuing up the path.

“Oh, well, I'll see you later at the meteor shower then!”

“Doubt it.” He picks up his pace, running up towards the mountains. The air always feels crisper up here, fresher. He takes a moment to breathe as he reaches Robin's house, then immediately ducks by it. There was no way he was sticking around for more pleasant conversations with the townsfolk. ESPECIALLY Robin.

---

As he ducks into the mine, Marlon looks over at him and just laughs. “What, are you planning on starting an earth quake and almost killing yourself again? Didn't have enough last time?”

“Shut up. I didn't even bring my gun this time.”

“You didn't bring your sword, either. Or a pickaxe... What exactly are you planning on doing down there?” Marlon points out, nodding towards him. “May be half-blind but even I can see that's not a good idea.”

Rayzan takes a moment to look over himself, realizing he didn't actually bring any tools. “...Fuck.” He sighs in exasperation as Marlon laughs at him.

“Get out of here kid. I'm not in the mood to rescue you again.”

“Shut up.” Rayzan repeats himself, leaving the cave with a roll of his eyes. He heads past Linus' tent with a nod of his head, shoving his hands into his pockets before heading up towards the train station. Oh how he wished he could hop on the train and get the hell out of here. Instead he pushes the door open to the spa, heading for the locker room. With any luck no one else would be there.

Unfortunately, this wasn't his lucky day. Alex sits up from the weight bench as he waves at him.

“Hey man, didn't think I'd see you up here again.” Alex grins. “That offer to spot you is still open. You know, so you don't drop your weight on your foot again. How's that doing, by the way?”

“It's fine.” Rayzan says simply, yanking at his locker door.

“You gotta pull it up first.” Alex speaks up after a few moments of Rayzan fighting with the locker.

“...I knew that.” Rayzan responds, moving the handle up before pulling it open properly.

“Oh! Uh, are you going to that... that shower tonight? Haley's dragging me along. Don't know, might be pretty cool.”

“Wasn't really planning on it. Everyone keeps asking me about it.” He grumbles and grabs a towel, heading for the showers.

“Well, it's just, basically everyone in town goes to these things. It's kind of a big deal, these festivals and all.”

“Yeah, I got that. Now, do you mind? I'm sweaty and I'm not going to wash myself off at home with lake water.”

“You don't have a shower?”

“No.”

“Why don't you-”

“I'm not asking anyone to fix my shit.” With that, Rayzan pulls the curtain to the shower shut and tosses his things down. What's with everyone in this town being so damn talkative?

---

He spends the next several hours in the pool, ignoring Penny and Alex talking about who knows what. His day is rather quiet after that, deciding to head to his usual place in the saloon – where, yes, he does get Gus to put his pizza in the freezer for him for the time being. He ends up falling asleep in one of the booths, nursing his glass of beer. He's only awaken by Shane poking him in the side.

“Wha-? Ah... Mm..” Rayzan murmurs, stretching his arms out. “Thought you'd have more courtesy than to wake a sleeping man.” He grumbles drowsily.

“Didn't want to, but otherwise it'd be Gus and I figured you didn't want that. He's locking up here to go see the meteor shower thing. Jas wanted me to go with her.” He doesn't sound very enthused about it either. “Want to go keep me company?”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. I know.” He frowns, but steps aside as Rayzan gets up.

“Guess so.” He sighs, then looks over at Gus by the door. “Can I get my pizza after? So I'm not holding it the whole time?”

“Of course! I'll leave the door unlocked for ya.” Gus beams before heading outside, Shane and Rayzan soon following after.

“So did Morris say anything about the missing stock?” Rayzan glances over, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hah, no not really. Don't think he even noticed you leaving. Lillian didn't either, or at least she didn't mention it.” Shane ponders as they walk the rest of the way in silence.

---

They pick a spot that's far enough away from everyone else to not be bothered, but close enough that Jas wouldn't complain to Marnie that Shane didn't show up.

“You ever seen one of these things?” Rayzan speaks up after awhile, looking up at Shane.

“Nah, I'm not really... into space stuff. There's enough to worry about on this planet, you know? Never mind worrying about whatever the hell aliens out there are getting up to.”

“Agreed.” Rayzan nods, pushing his hair up out of his face before staring up at the sky as the meteors begin raining by. Everyone is quiet other than the “oohs” and “ahhs” and other noises spoken in awe of the event. As Rayzan looks around he sees people making various wishes, Robin and Demetrius kissing, and Vincent and Jas playing astronauts off to the side. A faint smile grows on his face as he leans back, letting the sand seep between his fingers. This was nice, despite his many protests against it.

Eventually, the shower ended and the crowd started dying down as everyone went home. Shane said his goodbyes as he carried a very sleepy Jas off, and Rayzan was left alone. Rayzan sat there for a few more minutes listening to the ocean. Everything was peaceful, until a loud crash roars through the beach. The sound shakes through the town, and Rayzan jumps from his spot.

“The f-?” He suddenly wishes he had literally any weapon on him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the right hand side of the beach, staring at the smoldering pit among what used to be small tide pools. “Uh.” He mutters to himself, looking back towards Elliott's hut. No reaction. Was he already asleep? How did he NOT hear that? He shakes his head and grabs a stray stick from by the trees, poking at the object in the middle of the pit with it.

“Uh...” Rayzan repeats to himself, looking down at his hands. If he did end up burning himself Harvey wasn't asleep just yet, right? He'd probably be fine. He cautiously picks up the object, finding it to be - surprisingly - not as hot as he thought. It was fairly large, having to be held with two hands, and seemed to be glowing a soft blue aura. It's exterior was rather dark, with dull white spikes protruding out the sides. Although he tried to pull it apart it was no use – whatever it was, it was rather sturdy.

“Damn you're heavy.” Rayzan mutters as he stares at the egg-shaped object in his hands. He looks up, pondering to himself about what to do with this thing. He begins heading back up towards town, only to be interrupted by Maru.

“Oh my yoba – I could hear that crash from across TOWN! To think something actually hit the ground! And you're holding it!” Maru begins rambling off, clapping her hands together. “Can I see it? That doesn't look like any meteor I've ever heard of, but of course space is really vast and there could be plenty of different-”

“Whoa, whoa. Listen, if you want this thing take it. I don't know what to do with it.” Rayzan begins trying to hand it off, only for it to stab him in the arm. “What the fuck?”

“Oh- Oh dear, are you okay?” Maru widens her eyes, frantically trying to grab it again – only for the object to protest yet again.  Rayzan grunts in pain, nodding.

“Maybe we should... not. Do that.” He hisses as he carefully sets it down – thankfully it lets him do that – before rubbing at his wrists. “Fuck, what is that thing?”

“Well, I'm not entirely sure... It seems at least somewhat sentient though, don't you think? Exciting!” Maru grins before turning her attention back to him. “...Right, we should get you to the clinic.” She reaches down to pick it up off the floor, only for it to spray some form of mist into the air. “AH!” She exclaims as she stumbles back, holding a hand over her face. “Okay! You pick it up!”

“I'm not touching that thing again!”

“We have to at least move it somewhere no one else can get hurt.” Maru insists, rubbing at her eyes.  Rayzan grunts and picks up the foreign object, carrying it in his arms as he follows her to the clinic.

Harvey looks up from his paperwork as the door opens, raising an eyebrow. “I thought I locked... Oh, Maru, hello- Are you okay? What is- Rayzan are you bleeding?” He gets up frantically, moving around the counter.

“I'm fine, he might need stitches. Don't... touch that thing.” Maru aggressively points to the object. “I need to go wash out my eyes.” She motions vaguely in the air before walking off. Harvey blinks a few times before looking back towards Rayzan as he sets the object in a waiting room chair.

“Alright... well, let's get you sorted. I'll... call Gunther and let him know about this also.” Harvey furrows his brow, walking Rayzan back towards the examination room. “What happened, exactly?”

“I don't know. That thing fucking... Grabbed me when I tried to give it to Maru.” Rayzan hisses in pain as Harvey looks over his wounds.

“These look pretty deep – did it get you anywhere else?”

“Not that I can tell.” He shakes his head as Harvey frowns. “I feel kind of... sick, though.”

“Hopefully that's just from blood loss and it didn't inject you with anything.” Harvey notes before gathering everything necessary.

---

Rayzan wakes up in one of the hospital beds in the morning and groans as he sits up. “...So that wasn't a dream. Fuck.” He looks down at his bandaged arms with a frown. Harvey comes in with a smile, holding a clipboard close to his chest.

“Well, good news, you aren't going to die.” Harvey smiles before continuing, “You ended up passing out last night so I set you up here. As far as I could tell, there's nothing lethal in your blood stream either. Maru and Gunther are in the waiting room discussing the...” Harvey trails off for a moment, “Well, if you'd like to talk to them, you're free to. Be sure to keep those bandaged though, alright? And I wouldn't advise any excessive movement... If you need any pain killers, let me know.”

Rayzan nods, pushing himself out of the bed. “Yeah, thanks doc.” He mutters and heads into the waiting room.

“Oh! Mr. Rayzan, it's always a pleasure to see you. This is certainly an interesting specimen you've found here!” Gunther smiles as he stands up straighter.

“Yeah, and it tried to fucking kill me. Can't you take the yoba damn thing to the museum or something where I don't have to look at it?” He glares at it, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing and simply putting them down by his sides.

“Ah... I was looking into that, actually. It seems it's imprinted on you somehow and is rather territorial about it.”

“It's done what? I'm not a damn mother duck or something! If that shit turns out to be an alien I'm not taking care of it.” Rayzan protests angrily, leaning against the counter.

“If it would let me I'd take it off your hands after it hatches or... whatever it's going to do, but until then no one can touch it.” Maru frowns as she looks over at him. “I guess you could just drop it off somewhere, but there's no guarantee it still won't try to find you once it hatches...” There's a pause. “Though I'm absolutely open for helping you out with it as much as I can! Maybe we can be co-parents of it!” She laughs, though it doesn't last long as she sees Rayzan's expression. She clears her throat as she looks away. “Up to you, of course.”

“I'm probably just gonna drop the thing in the river or something. Maybe it'll float off to wherever. Or better yet, drown.”

“Mr. Rayzan, sir, if I may interrupt, I don't think that's such a good idea.” Gunther speaks up. “We don't know anything about this creature – it could be invasive to the local environment. It's better to keep it close so we can learn more about it.”

“Then you take it!” Rayzan picks up a wooden crate, then sets the object inside of it. “There. Yours now. Have fun with your murder egg.” He shoves the box into Gunther's arms and storms towards the door.

“Rayzan!” Maru shouts, but frowns as she turns back towards Gunther. “I think we're on our own here.”

Gunther nods, “It seems so...” He looks down at the object, then nods towards her. “I'll take this over to the museum for now and try to figure out what it likes... Perhaps find a sun lamp.”

Rayzan rolls his eyes as he slams the door behind him. He heads towards the saloon, grabbing his frozen pizza out of the freezer before making the journey home. He'd be glad to sleep in his own bed again.

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 5

Part 5

“Miles,” said Alex with an uncharacteristic level of annoyance in his voice, “I told you, we’ll be in France all week. Bloody stay at my place, will you? You’ve got the key, there’s food in the fridge and you’ll have plenty of space and time to sign all those CDs and prepare for the release.”

“Alright,” Miles gave in. “I’ll stay there. Thanks, Al. I just want to make sure I’m not getting in the way of things.”

“In the way of what things? Since when do you ask these kinds of questions?” It wasn’t the first time that Miles had made remarks in complete seriousness that, two years ago, he’d have found ridiculously silly and laughable. When had they ever worried about being in each other’s ways?  

“Forget it,” grumbled Miles. “I just need a new place. Soon.”  

Alex understood that Miles was trying to change the topic, and because he didn’t want this conversation to end in a fight, he let him. It was rare enough to get him on the phone these days and he didn’t want this to become a discussion about something that he found stupid to begin with. “Do that, get a new place! How can you even get sleep with those awfully loud neighbours?”

“I’m in no position to complain,” countered Miles. “The last neighbours moved out because I always play guitar at night!”

Alex chuckled. “You’re supposed to sleep at night.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what you’re doing at night?”

“It doesn’t matter what I do at night. I don’t have any immediate neighbours who could take offense,” pointed Alex out, adding, “you should consider getting a house, Mi. That way you’d finally have room for all those shoes and guitars!”

Alex smiled when he heard Miles laughing on the other end. “I’ll consider it,” said his friend. After a moment of silence, Miles spoke again. “Hey, about the other night, sorry I didn’t go out with you. I wasn’t feeling it. But we definitely need to meet up again. It’s been ages since we had a proper night out.”

“Definitely,” agreed Alex and nodded, even though he knew Miles couldn’t see. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re pissed at me for some reason. It’s been over two months since we last saw each other.” It might not seem like a lot of time, but for them it was. “And when you were here, you barely even spent an hour. I know you’re busy, Miles. But when did you become too busy for me?” He was only half-joking. Sometimes it felt as though their friendship had taken a hit along the road, but no matter how often he checked, he could never spot the damage, only knew that it was there, hiding beneath the surface. If he had to describe it to a mechanic, all he’d be able to say is that it feels different.  

“I’m not too busy,” objected Miles, his voice heavy with regret. “I don’t know what’s going on. I feel like I’m in bit of a funk at the moment.”

Alex wished he was with him just then. He didn’t like conversations via telephone. He preferred looking people in the eyes while speaking to them. It made it easier to read emotions. And he desperately wanted to read Miles’ emotions. He sounded as lost and as confused as he himself felt too often these days. “You have to tell me if I did something wrong. You know me, Mi. I don’t always get it when I say something stupid.”

“It’s not you,” said Miles reassuringly.  

But Alex knew his friend, he could tell when Miles was being deliberately ambiguous, and, clearly, there was something that Miles was not saying. They needed to meet. It was the only way he could press him for answers. “Come to France. The weather is nice, we can hang out and I’ll leave you plenty of space to prepare all your shit for the tour, I promise. I’m sure Taylor would love to see you as well!”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

Alex sighed at Miles’ matter-of-fact statement. “It’s been months. How long do you want to drag this out?” And, also, what, precisely, were they dragging out? It was the one thing that Taylor and Miles deliberately kept from him. Sometime last year, the two of them had a big argument. He’d only overheard the tail end of it and knew it was about Miles’ break-up with Hannah. When he went and asked, first Miles, then Taylor, for details, they had both kept quiet about it. It annoyed him greatly that he didn’t know the whole story. He’d like to fix it but how could he fix it if he didn’t know where to begin!

“She’s your girlfriend, not mine. No need to make things right.” Miles went quiet and Alex waited patiently. “Al...I gotta go. I’ll call soon.” Then he hung up.

Alex couldn’t believe it; he stared at the phone in shock. This might very possibly be the first time that Miles hung up on him. “Bloody hell!?”

“You’re okay?”  

Turning around, he found Taylor leaning behind him against the kitchen counter. Alex shook his head. “No. Just talked to Miles. Something is going on with him, I just know.”

She shrugged and turned around. “Who cares?”

“I do!” said Alex quickly and resolutely. “I’m worried about my friend. I’m worried about my friendship with Miles! I’d like to think you care a little about that.”  

She spun back around and found him staring at her with a mixture of expectation and accusation. “Here’s what I would like,” said Taylor bitterly. “I’d like to think you worry about our relationship.”

Alex sat down, his eyes darted away from her and his demeanour took on a far darker shade. “I wasn’t aware I needed to worry about us.”  

“If you paid a little less attention to Miles and a little more attention to me, you’d be aware,” she all but snapped, clearly trying to contain her anger.  

Alex could tell, because he was trying to do the same. Both were doing that a lot, lately. Every dialogue between them was never more than one or two poorly chosen words away from erupting into a fight. It was a never-ending walk across a high wire. “How about a change for once,” he suggested, fed up with this perpetual undercurrent of unresolved tension, “let’s actually talk about this. Tell me why you’re so fucking mad at Miles that you can’t stand the thought of him and I being friends! It never bothered you before.”

“You’ve never kissed before.”

And there it was. His entire body tensed up. They were back to that, apparently. Alex groaned as he drove his fingers through his hair. “I thought we were over that.”  

That. The stupid, bloody kiss. The one that kept haunting his dreams more often than it should. The one that was the reason why he now locked the door to his recording studio, lyrics and notes inside. “We discussed this, Taylor. It was one silly kiss, two years ago. I meant nothing. We were drunk. That’s all.”

“I would appreciate it if you stopped calling that fucking kiss ‘silly’.” Taylor crossed her arms, staring at him angrily, reminding him, “you wrote a fucking song about that kiss!”  

What a big mistake that had been, thought Alex resentfully. But, as always, he hadn’t been able to help himself. That damned kiss occupied so much bloody space in his head that he had needed to literally write it out of there.  

‘And in response to what you whispered in my ear, I must admit sometimes I fantasise about you, too’

In its original form, the song had included a bit about a kiss. Last year, as he had been sitting at the piano, trying to find the right arrangement, she’d sat down next to him, had leaned in, and had asked, “what did I whisper?”

And he, dumb idiot that he was at times, had been so lost in his thoughts that he had promptly replied, “not you. Him.” After that, his life, complicated though it was already, had become considerably less comfortable. For the rest of the day, she had continued asking question after question, relentlessly pushing for explanations that he couldn’t give. He had only been able to take so much and after four long hours of artfully avoiding giving any sort of actual answer, he had snapped and blurted out, “Miles kissed me and, yes, I fucking liked it!”  

He guessed he should be grateful she was still with him. After all, Hannah had broken up with Miles over the whole thing. Sure, he’d told Taylor that wasn’t the reason. But who was he kidding? They all knew it was the very reason. Maybe not the only one. But it was the deciding one.  

Taylor took a step towards him, kissed his head and tilted his chin up with one finger. “Alex, I love you. And I know you love me. But maybe you need some distance from Miles? He’s busy right now, anyways. And you’re about to go on tour as well. Let’s take a vacation together. Let’s see a bit of the world. You’ve always wanted to go to India. We could do that before you’re off with the band?”

Oh, he wanted to go to India, alright. He had read much about that country. About the culture. About everything, really. And he couldn’t wait to see it with his own eyes. But it wasn’t Taylor he wanted standing next to him when he got there. Not that he could tell her that. “Babe, the timing isn’t right. Not now.”

“But you agree about needing some distance from Miles?”

“No. I barely see him as it is and once touring starts, we’ll see even less of each other. He is a very big, very important part of my life.”

“Yes,” she muttered in resignation. “And we’ve got the lyrics to prove that, don’t we?”

“I hate when you do that!”

“You do?”

She was pissing him off and he was beginning to think she was doing it on purpose. Which, in return, riled him up more and more. “You told me you made out with some girl backstage while Miles and I were playing in New York. I really don’t think you should be sitting on such a fucking high horse right now!”

“We were fucking joking around, it didn’t mean anything,” she all but yelled. “I didn’t write a fucking love song about her!”

“It’s not a love song!” As she glowered at him, he began pacing the kitchen angrily. “A love song is what I wrote for you, Tennessee, remember?”

Taylor slumped back against a wall, deflated and tired. “You want to know the difference between my song and his song? My song is everything a good love song should be. It’s passionate, it’s sexy, it’s got the rights words to it. It’s perfect. And it’s perfect because you’re Alex Fucking Turner and when you decided to write me a love song, naturally, you wrote the perfect song with the perfect words and the perfect arrangement and you wrote it so that everyone knows how fucking good of a songwriter you are!”

“Is that a compliment or a bloody insult?” He asked indignantly.

“Mine is the romantic tale that you want the world to know. His is the deepest truth that you desperately try to keep a secret.” A bitter laugh broke free from her lips. “Tell me, Mr. Songwriter Extraordinaire, which song would you like to have written about you?”  

Alex didn’t answer. He wasn’t entirely sure she wanted an answer. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to make up his answer. And, also, he wasn’t entirely sure that, at this point, an answer would make any kind of difference.  

“Out of words. Imagine that,” said Taylor and left the kitchen.  

[redknight3996]

The Demon Lord’s Generals 2

Chapter 2 – The Lion’s Bane

Leok earned her name when she was twelve, still a whelp by any standard out there. ‘Sides goblins, maybe? Or summa those other smaller folks out there, though most folk were small to her.

The Ferrus Lion she fought way back then was a very big bastard though, and a hell of a fun match to fight. Its steel fur and solid hide made it practically impossible to wound with any bladed or pointed weapons, and even blunt stuff tended to bounce right off. 

So her beating it down, choking it out, and snapping its neck, all with her own two hands, earned her some damn high praise when she dragged the mountain beast’s carcass back, far ahead of the rest of her hunting party. But it also earned her a cuff upside the head from the chief, so goods and bads.

“Ya don’t run off from yer party, brat,” Chief chided later on in her tent as she helped Leok carve her totem for the lion, letting the young, gold-blonde orc sit in her lap as she guided the whit-knife in her hand along a block of yellow-wood, “Even if yer goin’ up a beast alone, yer gonna want yer group ta know where ya are. One good knick and ya could be bleedin’ out fast.”

“Not my fault they're slow. If it were up ta them, we'd still be up there huntin’ the thin’...” 

“Cause huntin’ requires patience. If ya keep chargin’ in head first, the beast yer huntin’ will just run off.” 

“This one didn’t. I got him quick ‘nough.”

“Yeah, ya got lucky.”

That got Leok to scowl back at her chief, before pausing as Chief gripped her wrist a little tighter with one of her dark hands, keeping her from making a miscut. “...” She looked back at the on-going carving, still frowning. “Weren’t luck…”

“Hey now, no shame in luck. Luck’s important. Let’s ya know the gods like ya.” Chief chuckled, letting Leok carve on her own for a sec as she reached up and pet her short, messy hair down. “Plenty’a stuff facter inta a hunt. Strength’s important, sure, and ya got plenty’a that. Sensin’s also important. Gotta see where it goes, gotta listen close, gotta track its scents, so on.”

“And I‘m good at trackin’!”

“Yer good, but ya ain’t great. Patience is ‘portant, little lion. Sometimes ya get lucky and run inta a big, hungry beastie lookin’ fer a fight, but plenty’a times, y’ll be runnin’ fer weeks tryin’ ta track just one big, angry beastie who’s far too clever fer ya.”

“Hmph...I’m smarter than a beast…”

“Not all beasts, and it’s not always ‘bout bein’ smart. Ya can be the smartest, cleverest hunter out there, but if yer goin’ inta a new place, no idea what’s lyin’ out there, y’ll wind up gettin’ killed by somethin’ that just knows the area better’n ya.”

“...Like Tuzik Spike-Heart?”

“Oh, so ya are listenin’ ta Gran’s stories.”

Leok shrugged then, trying to focus on getting the small totem rounded right. Least that’s what she’d say if asked. Truth was, she was a proud girl, and embarrassment was painful. “...Summa ‘em. The smart ones.”

“Heh. And which ones’re those?”

“Summa ‘em. Ya probably know more’n me since yer listenin’ ta everyone all the time.”

“Probably do. Y’d learn just as many if ya listened too.”

Leok snorted. “Listenin’s fer chiefs. I’m gonna be a warrior, and make my own tribe’a warriors! Maybe unite all’a the orcs out there, make somethin’...big!”

“Ha! Really now? Ya got a conqueror’s heart in ya now?”

“I might!” Chief’s heavy hand dropped right on her head and started mussing her hair, earning a yelp from Leok. “H-Hey! Yer ruinin’ my concentration!”

“Gra ha ha! Bet I am! Can’t help it though, not when yer bein’ this cute.”

“I ain’t cute!”

“Yer a kid, kids are cute, deal with it. Also, speakin’ as an old warrior here, I’m gonna say that  ya don’t have a conqueror’s heart. Ya got a warrior’s.”

“Yeah yeah…” Leok would’ve just grumbled and went on as usual, but...some little curiosity made her ask, “What’s the difference?”

“Heh. Big difference.” Chief let out a sigh. “...Real big difference. Startin’...ya remember Harvest-Maker and Harvest-Taker?”

“Eh? That kid story?”

“Yup, that’s the one. What d’ya ‘member ‘bout it?”

Leok shrugged, trying to think as she worked. “Uh...Once there were two orc brothers. Both were strong and tough, but one decided ta guard his tribe and the other turned bandit. The first brother, was the younger one I think?” At Chief’s nod, she continued, “He talked ta a lotta folk and orc as he walked with his tribe and made his people happy ‘cause he brought in food and coin by talkin’ good. Second brother, who was older, was meaner though, and got a buncha other meaner orcs t’gether ta rob folk. He was good at it and got a lot, but got the folks mad at ‘im and they dragged ‘im offa his horse and hacked ‘im ta pieces. His brother though, he lived long and happy ‘cause he made ‘is tribe happy, right?”

Chief grinned. “Close. See, Maker was a warrior. He worked fer his own good, ‘long with his tribe’s good. By bein’ smart and workin’ with folk, tradin’ with ‘em, huntin’ the beasts that gave ‘em trouble, he didn’t get rich, but he got enough. Enough ta live, not just survive. And he was a whole lot happier, cause he had people that loved him and wanted ta see him happy.

“Taker though, he wanted ta take. He didn’t respect folk and he didn’t respect orc; he only cared ‘bout gainin’. Not keepin’, but gainin’. More and more, always more. What he got, he wasted on drink and feasts. He was a glutton, and his new tribe weren’t even a real tribe, ‘cause none’a ‘em really cared ‘bout each other, not deep down. They could pal, sure, but they only wanted ta have their wants. Was why none’a ‘em helped when the folk came after Taker. Real tribe, they keep ya safe and ya keep ‘em safe in return.”

“...” Leok considered that, frowning as she carved the mouth. “So...I shouldn’t make a tribe���a warriors?”

“Ya could. But thin’ is, fighters gotta have reasons ta fight. What would they do if they ain’t got someone ta fight fer?”

“...Huh…”

“‘Sides, wouldn’t ya rather have plenty’a people around ta help out? Gotta have coinkeepers ta keep track’a accounts, and yer little pal there, Bekah, she don’t wanna be a warrior, does she?”

“Nah, she likes cookin’...Sero’s good at axe-throwin’ though. He could help.”

“Ya really wanna trust yer tribe ta just Sero?”

“Nah, he’s kinda shit.”

Chief let out a bark of laughter and ruffled her hair again, grinning wide, her larger tusks almost gleaming in tent’s lantern-light. “Ya see what I mean? Though don’t cuss.”

“Hm...Hyp’crite.”

“Hypocrite, ya little brat. Use yer words right.”

“Yes chief…” So young Leok grumbled, got back to work, and carved her totem. It was simple enough, and worked fine for a belt buckle, but the main, most important thing was that she’d earned her name and it was a big one. Not Leok Lion-Break or Leok Lion-Hunt. 

No, she was a Bane of the Beast-Bane tribe. She was Leok Lion-Bane. And every orc out there was gonna know her name.

–2 Years Later–

Chief was a weird orc. Plenty nice to Leok and all the rest of the tribe, but she stood out, partially cause of her attitude and partially cause of her looks.

Her looks were the obvious part, on account of the Chief being a High Orc. 

High Orcs were a rare type of orc, like a weird thing. Not a mutation, like Gura Three-Tusk or Lurtol Six-Finger, but like a special type. One way she heard it described was that High Orcs were like Lycans were to humans, but then there were Kapros out there that weren’t High Orcs, so…

To be more clear, appearance-wise, the Chief was taller than the average orc–at around 6’8” instead of the 6’4” average–and had dark brown skin instead of green or gray, or even the pink of Sun Land orcs. Apparently it was a sign of her type being closer to the gods or something, like those old Sun Land Imperials and all. 

She also had longer tusks–which, orc-ishly speaking, was a lot more of a sign of status than any skin stuff–and a tail. A longish one, with a tuft of hair at the end that she liked poking at people with to mess with them, or just to play with kids, who liked grabbing at it. Not that Leok ever did that kinda thing when she was tiny.

Oh, and the Chief also had really shaggy white hair–like a ‘platinum blonde’ instead of Leok’s golden blonde–and her eyes were like a kinda...green-amber. Lots a little flecks and looked pretty weird at times, but the Chief was weird in general, so that was that.

And she could also turn into a boar. Like, a big boar, like a kaprothrope. Was interesting and sometimes she’d let people ride on her back if they were having trouble. Chief didn’t have a lot of pride, but she did have confidence. 

Least that’s how she explained it to Leok. Apparently there was a difference?

Maybe it was a “conqueror/warrior” thing, where the difference seemed small but meant a lot. She didn’t understand, not at that point, but Leok did give an effort to watch how her chief talked with people, whether they were folk or orc.

She tended to be real polite with folk, speaking nice and polite and offering help and trade, and be a lot more casual and boisterous with other orc, though she was plenty friendly either way. There was more than a couple times she’d sell hides and meat for less than it was worth when she saw a tribe or town was going through rough times, apparently because “gainin’ goodwill’s worth more than havin’ a ton we’ll never use”.

Chief didn’t care about being rich, but it was still kinda a surprise to Leok to see how much worse off a lot of folk and orc were. Gobs especially seemed to have it rougher than most–something about hobs coming from up north looking for territory–and their tribe wound up playing escort to a few of them more than a few times. 

It was interesting, talking with folk that’d lost their lands. Some orcs settled in places, but most tribes were nomads, heading to wherever game and grazing were good on the plains, so the concept of outright losing land felt kinda weird to think. It did make some sense though. Gobs and humans weren’t as tough as orcs, so they settled in places and made forts and alliances to keep out the dangers. 

Didn’t feel fair though. If the dangers were too much, if folk like hobs or even orc bandit bands came after them, then they didn’t have anywhere to go at all. 

Didn’t feel fair at all, and she said as much to the chief as the two rode alongside each other, following the trails to one the eastward towns.

“Yeah, it ain’t,” Chief agreed, “But it is how it is.”

“Yeah, but...why? Ya said folk were tough, right? So why don’t they all join up? Like a big army?”

Chief snorted. “I thought ya said ya were too big fer stories?”

Leok shook her head, her hair longer, but braided nicely. “Nah. The gob grans have interestin’ ones. Lotta stuff ‘bout old builders’n leaders.”

“I noticed. Why ya think I asked that?” She chuckled, leaning back in her saddle and patting Strider’s white mane, earning a whinny from the huge black horse. “Yer listenin’ ta a lotta tales’a leaders then?”

“Yeah, lotta ‘em. Big ones, unitin’ towns and tribes and stuff. Like...Jee-ahnma...Ghian…” She frowned, trying to figure out the unfamiliar syllables.

“Don’t hurt yerself.”

“Ah fuck off.”

“And no cussin’!” Chief pointed at her, then sighed again, still grinning. “They ever mention how most’a those leaders got their idiot selves killed?”

“...Uh...Not really? They aren’t around, so I thought they were gone, but...what d’ya mean?”

Chief shrugged. “Remind me ta talk ta ya about ‘Demon Lords’ later.”

Leok blinked. “What, like the ones in Gran’s old stories?”

“Nah, different. Not ‘Demon Princes’, not ‘Demon Kings’. Somethin’ both better and worse, in a whole lotta ways.”

“...” Leok glanced at her chief again. She was staring straight ahead, and her eyes seemed...more tired than usual. And for a moment, Leok wondered if Chief always had such deep bags under her eyes. “...Why can’t ya tell me now?”

“Easy. Cause town’s comin’ up ahead, and looks like we’re not the only tribe stayin’.” Chief suddenly grinned, then urged Strider into a gallop, leaving Leok and Apple-Eater in the literal dust, blinking after her in confusion.

And sure enough, right outside the town of Dasloh were a number of tents set up, though they were all a bright red instead of the shades of yellow most Hayland orcs tended to use to blend into the plants around. Leok didn’t know of any red forests out in the Dark Lands, so this new tribe would probably stand out just about anywhere.

“Ho the camp!” Chief called out from a decent distance, grinning easily as a couple of the camp’s orcs glanced over, letting Leok get a good look at the noticeably gray orcs–which probably meant they were coming from further east. They were all wearing feathered cloaks and coats over their leathers too, mostly in reds and browns.

“Is there somethin’ you need, traveler?” One of the orcs asked as he raised a hand, returning her greeting. He and the other orcs around had a whole lot of red-orange tattoos across their arms and faces, marking and making it obvious which Ancient they followed. 

“Just ta inform ya my tribe is going to be stoppin’ here too. Don't worry, I'll lead them ta the other side of the town.” 

“Is that so?” The orc grinned, standing straighter. “Well, if you and yours are in need of some entertainment, we’re more than willin’ to oblige. For a price, of course.” 

“That so?” Chief echoed with a smirk of her own, “Never seen a troupe’a all orcs before.” 

“In that case, you can consider this a rare opportunity well worth the price of admission!” he replied, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Real theatric guy.

“Ha! Guess I'll have ta take ya up on that. Try not ta leave before we're done settin’ up.” 

“We'll save you a spot in tonight's show,” the orc said as he bowed to her with a flourish. 

Staying aways back as Chief returned to her, Leok looked over at the camp itself. Seemed most orcs had gone back to what they were doing once they realized it was just another tribe. Went a lot better than how it usually did there, since most tribes didn't like sharing spots, especially when it came to towns. One orc tribe being nearby was a good trading partner to most folk, but there were plenty who got suspicious, and those paranoid voices got a lot louder the more orcs were around.

Though, before she pulled the reins on Apple-Eater to head on back with Chief, she paused as she noticed an odd orc in particular was staring at her. A small thing, probably younger than her, but wearing full black instead of the browns and reds everyone else had. 

“...” After a second, she raised a hand and waved over to the kid, who blinked, staring right back at her. Another few seconds passed, and the kid–looked like a girl, from what Leok could tell–raised a hand in return and waved hesitantly. So of course Leok smiled back at the shy kid, waving again before riding off to catch up with her chief.

And much later on, once they’d got all their tents set up and carriages set, Leok decided to seek out that kid again. She didn’t know what was up with the girl and her black feather cloak, but if she was standing out for some reason, there had to be something interesting going on with her.

The rest of the Fire-Art tribe was pretty amazing already, with all the fancy tricks they were showing off at their carnival. Lotta fire magic going off–made sense, considering the name–in big shows, like plays featuring dragons and monsters made of flames or glass sculptures made easy for folks to buy. Add in the lively music and cheerful feeling the whole place gave off, and it was hard for Leok to keep from smiling as she walked around.

Still, she had a self-appointed mission she was on–though the sight of a big lion made out of flames chasing an equally fiery gazelle through the sky was damn impressive–so she definitely couldn’t afford any distractions. Though barbecued meat at the food stands smelled fantastic…

Eventually, she did manage to catch sight of the black-cloaked kid again while she was munching on a skewer, and for the briefest moment, she felt kinda stupid for thinking the kid might be hanging around somewhere special instead of just sitting with her knees up to her chest and watching one of the fire shows with the other kids, but that moment passed quick and Leok headed right on over, taking a seat beside the kid.

“Hey there!” she greeted, grinning. Then she paused and tried to get some of the beef out from between her teeth with her tongue.

“Heh...hi yerself.”

“Nn...I get it?”

“Most’a it.”

“Nice!” Leok grinned again, moving her skewer to her left hand then leaning over with her right to shake the kid’s. “Name’s Leok Lion-Bane!”

The kid blinked. “Y’have a surname?” Then once that sunk in, she finally shook Leok’s hand, her face turning a little red. “Sorry. Uh, my name’s Crow.”

“I sure do! And nice ta meetcha Crow. Were ya named that fer yer coat or did that come later?”

“Came later. Gramma Col said I was all small and dark when I was born, like a crow.”

Leok nodded, continuing to grin. “Makes sense ta me. My tribe’s Gran named me Leok cause that’s like a lion’s name, and I got all this gold hair like one.”

“Huh...Lions’re named Leok?”

“Nah, they’re named Leo. No ‘K’, cause they’re not orcs.”

“Oohh…”

Leok giggled at the smaller orc’s nod of understanding, then leaned back, watching the show for a minute or so. “So how old are ya?”

“Eleven.”

“Yeah, that makes sense too. I’m fourteen!”

“Makes sense ta me,” Crow echoed, nodding again and earning another giggle from Leok, who really couldn’t help it. The smaller orc was just too serious sounding, it was cute. “Why’d ya look fer me?”

“Cause you were lookin’ at me. Made me curious.” Leok glanced at her. “So why were ya doin’ that?”

“...I got a feelin’ when I saw ya.” 

“A good feelin’?”

Crow shrugged. “...Somethin’ like one? Just saw ya and thought…’she’s important’. Jus’ that thought...Might’a saw somethin’ too.”

Leok was trying to seem casual, still leaned back, but her attention was fully on Crow. “And what’d ya see? Other than me, a’course.”

“Nah, was still ya, but y’were...bigger. Adult, I think. And ya had this armor on, all gold and...big, fancy. And I was followin’ ya, along with a lotta other orcs...Not just orc, also other folks.”

“...Like a lord?”

Crow tilted her head, obviously thinking, and apparently not noticing...whatever was in Leok’s tone there. She herself didn’t really know what it was. Eagerness? Fear? Something. “Maybe? Ya were a leader though, that I’m sure.”

“...Heh. Huh.” 

“Or could be nothin’, sorry.” Crow seemed to shrink in on herself, maybe mistaking Leok’s thoughtful tone for skepticism. “I’m still just learnin’ from Gram in the fortune stuff, I haven’t-”

Leok clapped a hand to her back, earning an abrupt squeak from the younger orc. Once Crow’s attention was on her again though, Leok grinned wide. “Thanks fer tellin’ me that. Ya just gave me a lot ta think about.”

“...Y-Yer welcome.”

Then Leok studied Crow for a moment, a slow smile creeping up her face. “Hey. When yer older, I’m gonna be even bigger and better than I am now. So when I’m at that point, and I find ya again, do ya wanna become my shaman?”

“...” And with wide eyes, Crow slowly nodded. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, definitely!”

“Good! Then work hard ta be the best ya can, because when I come back, I’m gonna be more than worthy’a bein’ yer boss.”

–Four Years Later–

Even at eighteen, Crow’s words from that one evening burned in the back of Leok’s mind. They stuck in her head, sounding out like echoes in a valley. Sometimes louder, sometimes quiet, but always there.

It’s what drove her to improve. If she was gonna be any kind of leader, she’d have to be stronger and smarter. The type who would never lose in any fight, physical or magical, and smart enough to know how to lead. 

Those words–that promise that she’d be great–was why she was sitting on a lake island, completely naked with her legs crossed on the cold grass. Gran sat opposite her, her own darker, scarred body just as bare, letting Leok see the deep blue tattoos that crossed her old, weathered skin. At two hundred and sixteen, she was the oldest orc Leok knew, but she still looked damn strong, her green skin wrinkled and leathery but her muscles as solid as ever, same as her tusks. Though a few of her teeth had been replaced with iron ones over the years. 

Sure, she looked all saggy in places and her white hair had thinned to the point that the half-blind elder just chopped it short, but there was no mistaking the power going through her. A different kind of power than the chief though. More...wise, instead of strong.

The tribe had stopped in a nice spot on the plains, nearby Tarkus Lake, some kinda sacred place. She didn’t really know why it was sacred, but when she went to Gran, telling her she was ready to earn her colors, Gran went right to the chief and told her to divert their course thataway. And the chief didn’t argue at all, so it was definitely an important thing.

“...Well I’ll be damned,” Gran finally spoke, her thin lips cracking in a grin as her eyes opened up again, one a deep green, the other a milky white,  “Ya really are ready.”

“What, ya doubted me?” Leok almost grinned back, but this was a sacred thing. She had to take it seriously. But one thought did nag at her. “Why’d ya have Chief head here if ya weren’t sure?”

“The mystic thoughts of an elder can only be understood by reachin’ that age yerself,” she replied, closing her eyes and nodding serenely as though that answered things. It didn't mean much to Leok, but since the wisest of her tribe had said it, it probably meant a lot. 

“Right, so since I'm ready, come on! Let's go ta the next step!” 

Gran shrugged. “Alright, if ya want.”

“Come on, I–Wait, really?” Leok blinked. “Yer not gonna say somethin’ about how ‘patience is good’ or somethin’?”

“Course not. If yer ready, yer ready.” Gran smiled, a few of her iron teeth glimmering in the noon-day sunlight. “Takin’ a step like this means becomin’ an adult, Leok Lion-Bane. It ain’t somethin’ ya get inta if ya really aren’t ready fer it, and everythin’ about yer soul says yer ready. Sure, Rishak would probably prefer if I waited two years so ya get there the same as everyone else, but that’s cause she worries easy.”

“...Ya were talking about the chief there, right? She worries easy?”

“Course she does. Chiefs worry. They need ta. It’s part’a their responsibilities, and I’ve told ya plenty’a stories’a those chiefs that were so confident in themselves, they didn’t even think’a worryin’ when they really shoulda.”

“Yeah, ya have...So...What comes next?”

Gran cracked another grin. “First, yer gonna needa center yerself. Ya remember how ta meditate?”

“Ah, right.” Leok nodded, then took a breath and clenched her hands into fists, pressing them together in front of her stomach, at her core. She took another breath–in and out, slow as could be; five in, six out–and let herself fall into that rhythm.

“Good good, yer doin’ good. Keep up that breath. Now, I want ya ta think back ta my lessons. Not the stories, but the theology. Who are the gods?”

“...” Leok wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer at that moment, but she gave it a try. “The Ouza?”

Gran chuckled. “Yeah, that’s one answer. But we’re lookin’ fer a more complete one. And not fer the lower ones. Fer the Ancients. Who are they?”

Their creators, the ones who formed all demons, all dragons, all leviathans, all– “They’re the mothers of us all.”

“Right. Now specifics. What are their Names?”

Leok took a deep breath there. She needed it to help focus, to remember lessons she knew by heart, but kept in the back of her mind in favor of more immediately important things. “Rupture, the Ancient Eruption, Grandmother’a Molten Flames. Fathom, the Ancient Deep, Grandmother’a Kaz...Chasmic Seas? Uh, Tempest, the Ancient Sky, Grandmother’a Ragin’ Squalls. Stygian, the Ancient Thought, Grandmother’a...uh...Bound…” She grimaced, sure she knew the answer, then nodded firmly once she got it. “Boundless Minds.”

“Hmmmm...Yup, that’s all’a ‘em. Nice work rememberin’. Now, hold out yer hands.”

Leok did, and tried her best not to open her eyes when she felt heavy weight settle in her open palms.

“Y’know ya can open yer eyes now, right?”

She did not, but open them she did, which let her see the chunk of clear quartz in her hands. “...Huh. What’m I doin’ with this?”

“Yer holdin’ it.” Gran chuckled as Leok frowned at her. “That little jewel there’s gonna help ya figure some stuff out. First, I want ya ta look at it. What color would ya say it is?”

Leok blinked, then stared at the jagged crystal, small points jutting up from a smooth base like trees on a hill. “...Uh, like...white? It’s clear, mostly, but kinda towards the bottom…?”

“That’s a good ‘nough way’a sayin’ it. The white there isn’t exactly white though. It’s more like ‘absence’.”

“...’n that means?”

“Means nothin’s in there yet. Like yer marks.”

Leok blinked, then glanced at the white lines going up her right forearm, connecting straight from the circle around her elbow to the one around her wrist, kinda like a painted bracer. She’d gotten it done years ago as a way to practice magic, like the other kids her age. “Huh? What’s wrong with my marks?”

“Nothin’ wrong with ‘em, they’re just not complete yet. Ya haven’t found yer type yet, yer ‘affinity’. Ya wanna do more’n just make light balls and signals, right?”

“Well yeah, course. Just...How does this thin’ let me do that?”

“Easy. Ya already know how ta make light. Just push that same power out here, inta the crystal.”

And when Leok did exactly that, she saw what was easily the most beautiful sight she could’ve ever seen. 

In that one chunk of quartz–which had gone from its pale, clear, white, to a burning, vibrate mix of molten reds speckled with black–she saw the fire she’d felt burning in the back of her head for all those years.

And with that beautiful sight, her fire burst free, and lit her soul alight.

–Eight Years Later–

Leok panted, her breath coming heavier than it ever had before. Sweat ran down her face and mixed with the blood leaking from her busted nose and split lips, soaking down her bare chest like it would mix with the crimson flames tattooed into her bruised and scraped skin. 

“C’mon. Get up,” she commanded, like her arms didn’t feel like dead weights at her sides. She’d cut her hair short for this match. It was that damn important.

And about three hours into it, her Chief was lying in the sand, flat on her back for the first time Leok had ever seen. For the first time most of their tribe had ever seen, if she was right. 

And everyone was seeing it. All the adults of her tribe waited outside the ring they’d formed, distant enough for respect, close enough to see. To see their Chief, the greatest beast of their tribe, down in the sand of a lakeside beach.

“Come on. Get up.” Little more insistently that time. Even years later, she’d wonder why she was so insistent there. She knew this was a step she had to take. She knew she would have to beat her own chief to reach that point. But a part of her, on that sunny day, had insisted that the Chief never lost to anyone. Not even her.

It wasn’t like the Chief hadn’t fought her hard. For the first time, Chief had let her beast slip in a fight. She’d let that thick fur cover her, let her feet harden into hooves, let her tusks get longer and curved like blades, and Leok had still laid her flat. Not without injury, not without effort. 

But one of them was standing, and the other was on the ground, and in the eyes of the world and its history, that was the only thing that would ever matter.

“...hgh…ghh...ghh-hh…” Chief lifted her hand–slowly, painfully, like she was trying to lift the sky–and let it fall against her face, her shoulders shaking as she covered her face.

“...Don’t...Don’t cry ‘cause ya lost,” Leok said. She didn’t beg there. She couldn’t. She was the chief now.

“N’t...d-dun’t...f-f’ckin’ f-fladder yerzelf...b-brat.” Her voice was made of broken things. A broken nose, broken teeth, broken jaw, broken ribs and collarbones, but it all held together strong, and there wasn’t even a hint of a broken spirit in it. “Gh hh hh…’m zo f’ckin’...zo f’ckin’ prowd.”

And that was the breaking point for Leok. Tears fell from her eyes as she fell to her knees, a little laugh that sounded like a sob sounding out over the lake, before strong arms wrapped around her and helped her up, a wide grin on Gran’s face.

“Congratulations, Chief.”

That seemed to be the signal for everyone to immediately start crowding, shouting congratulations, cheering the ‘awesome match’, and helping Chief...helping Rishak up to her feet.

That night, they had a feast to fully swear her in, and Leok Lion-Bane–sitting at the honored spot among all her tribe, all laughing and cheering her name, with Rishak’s voice easily being the loudest–became the newest Chief of the Beast-Bane Tribe.

–Five Years Later–

“Yer leavin’?” 

“Yup. Soon enough, I will be,” Rishak replied, grinning at Leok in the lights of her tent. Of Leok’s tent. The Chief’s tent.

Still felt weird, sitting on the chief’s pillow. It was a simple thing, large and yellow, like the fields of Korikala. Felt comfy enough. Made her seem taller than she was. “...Why? I mean...I know ya weren’t born in the tribe, but…”

“Yer my family,” Rishak confirmed, even though Leok should’ve known it would be her answer, “And don’t get all insecure, yer better than that.”

“Sure, Gran.”

Rishak’s eye twitched. “...I swear ya told the kids ta start callin’ me that. Rulak ain’t even dead yet and yer already settin’ me up ta take her over.”

Leok snorted, ignoring the little pang at the idea of her Gran dying. She was getting older by the day and all… “I can’t help what the kids call ya. Besides, is it a bad thing?”

“Nah, it ain’t. It’s kinda cute.” Rishak shrugged. “Still. I’m thinkin’ yer set here. Y’ve got a good handle on the tribe, y’ve got a good feel fer the folk around, yer good at talkin’, and yer damn good at fightin’. Ain’t lost a fight yet, right?”

“Only ever lost ta ya, and ya know it.”

“And ya won against me.”

Leok nodded. “And I won against ya. And y’still stuck around afterward. So why now?”

“...Yer movin’ the tribe east, ain’tcha?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. I ain’t been keepin’ it a secret. Thin’s sound bad down south. Folk and orc say some crazy shit goin’ on in the swamps.”

“Sayin’ more’n that.” Rishak scratched at her neck, stretching it a little. “Hm...Ya know what they’re sayin’, yeah?”

Leok’s eyes narrowed. “That there’s a Demon Lord risin’ up.”

Rishak nodded. “Last one’a those...think it was back when ya weren’t even crawlin’ yet. Name was Orast. Kinda a prick.”

That was the moment it all fit together for Leok, truth hitting her like a rock to the head. “So why’re ya stayin’?” 

Rishak winced, let out a little sigh, and stared at her much more evenly and seriously. “Cause not everyone can just up an’ leave their homes. So someone has ta make sure they're safe.” 

“Then-Then we'll sta-” 

“No, ya won't. It's yer job as the chief to protect the tribe. So keep ‘em safe, and keep ‘em movin’.” 

“...Only if ya stay safe too.” 

“Ha! I lose one fight and ya think I'm just a pushover?” 

“...”

“...Look, Lee, I'll be alright. I'm the second strongest orc on all’a Estus, I won't go down that easy.” 

“Why d’ya need ta do this? Just tell me that.” 

“...” Rishak let out another sigh and scratched her head. “... I made a lotta mistakes in the past. Teamed up with the wrong folk ‘n treated my tribe like trash. Eventually, it all caught up ta me, but I was lucky enough ta make it out alive. ‘n once I met this tribe, I made it my mission ta keep them safe. And now that they have you, I'm gonna keep others safe.” 

“And what about you? Who’s gonna keep ya safe?”

Rishak snorted. “I am, a’course. Seriously, ya can’t be-”

“I could order ya ta stay here.”

“...”

Leok tried to keep her gaze steady on Rishak. “I’m yer chief. We both know I can beat ya in a fight. I could keep ya here.”

“...” Rishak sighed. “Ya could. Yeah.”

“...Rishak, as yer chief, I’m orderin’ ya not ta throw yer life away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Lee-”

“I ain’t orderin’ ya ta stay.” Leok took a little breath. “...Ya can go out, ya can protect people. That’s fine. Just don’t die. No playin’ hero, no grand last stands, no old warrior sacrificin’ herself against a stronger fighter. Yer survivin’, ya got it?”

“...” Rishak visibly swallowed, her voice tight. “Y-Yeah Chief. I understand ya.”

“...And when yer out there, rescuin’ folk ‘n all...tell the ones that can go out that the Beast-Bane tribe’s acceptin’ any refugees. Orc or folk, long as they wanna travel with us. Even if it’s just ta the nearest safe town.”

“...Heh. Geh heh…Yer a good...A real good chief, Chief.” Rishak smiled wide. “I’m gonna meet up with ya again. Promise.”

Leok smiled back. “And I’ll be waitin’ fer ya. Promise.”

Despite their big, sappy goodbye there, it took some time for Rishak Folk-Bane to actually leave the tribe. A lotta people needed to be said goodbye to, after all, and Leok was pretty sure her old chief was putting off leaving, at least a little.

Still, the time came, as it had to, and Leok saw her mentor off with a tight hug and a promise that they’d see each other again.

And sure, it would be some time before they did, but it was, thankfully, a promise they both kept.

–2 Years Later–

So Irascagan got fucking dead after two years of being a jackass. Woo. 

Some lightlander brats offed him and his band of murdering monsters–good riddance to bad garbage–and with him gone, all the tension of the last two years just melted away.

Leok also met up with Crow again in those two years. Took a little while, lots of travel time, lots of transporting people through all the marshy, rainy lands of Inrapaba–which was a real pain in the ass, especially since it seemed like everybody out there was way into the idea of “taxes” and making sure her caravan “paid their dues”–and a few moments of punching out asshole bandits–or “gangsters”, since apparently they were more organized than the normal sort–but she eventually ran into Crow and the Fire-Art tribe outside a decently-sized city called Lordsgrave.

“Holy shit, y’look awesome,” was how Leok greeted the gal she hadn’t seen in 19 years. Though it was a plenty appropriate greeting, considering how awesome Crow looked.

“Yer lookin’ good yerself,” Crow greeted in turn, her black-painted lips quirked up in obvious amusement and matching the pitch-black tattoos curving all around her taller, broader and much more muscular body. Though she was still at least two inches shorter than Leok, much to her own amusement. “Beast-Bane Chief now, huh, Lion-Bane?”

“Yup. Been it fer a good seven years now, Crow…?”

Crow’s grin took on a smugger look. “Shaman Crow Black-Art. At yer service, Chief.” And then she bowed low, her feathered, hooded cloak almost making her look like the bird she was named for. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Ha! D’ya even need ta ask? Welcome ta the tribe!”

And that was that. No dramatics, no big event, just a simple transfer of an awesome shaman from one tribe to another. Sure, there were more big goodbyes and such, but that was mostly the Fire-Arts just saying they’d miss Crow and giving hugs and all, and Leok did offer to join up their tribes, but their chief, Rola Red-Art, declined, saying that he and his people preferred performing and all.

Leok didn’t consider that an issue, so more fond goodbyes were said and the Beast-Bane tribe moved on. And after that, things fell into a pretty peaceful routine, for an orc tribe.

Plenty of things happened, sure. Lots of traveling tended to bring lots of adventures, like hunting down deadly beasts that were bothering towns, having some sporting competitions with other tribes, and punching out some wereshark prick and his weird gang of other therians that were calling themselves the “Menagerie” for some reason, like they were some dumbass zoo, like in the bigger cities. 

Speaking of, the Beast-Banes had gotten a decent reputation in a lotta cities and towns, both in Korikala and Inrapa, and that meant plenty of travel, trade, and good opportunities for growing the tribe and making sure everyone was taken care of, to the point that they’d turned into one of the biggest tribes out there. 

And really, at that point, then and there, Leok thought she was pretty damn satisfied. Like she’d gotten almost everything settled, and now her life would just be one of peaceful growth, no need to worry about the assholes out there that could never beat her in a fight. Hell, she even fought an outworlder martial artist, using moves she’d never seen before, and still beat him. Granted, it was a slow-going growth, one that took a lotta time and a lotta work. 

Maybe that’s why it took so long for Rishak to find them again.

–Around 5 Years After That–

“What the fuck happened ta yer leg?” was how Leok decided to greet her former chief and mentor who she hadn’t seen in seven years. Though it wasn’t exactly like she decided to say that. More like it just slipped out the instant she saw the brass prosthetic replacing her mentor’s right leg all the way up to the thigh.

“Is that how ya greet yer elder ya disrespectful little shit!?” was how her loving ex-chief and mentor decided to greet her back. 

“It is when yer damn leg’s gone! And I’m only two inches shorter than ya!”

“Yer still shorter, and yeah, it is. It’s what happens when yer tryin’ ta get folk outta town and ya get pinned by rubble.”

Leok blinked. “...Oh. Ah, sorry. It just…” She paused. “...Is that what really happened?”

“...” Rishak glanced to the side, staring at the lounge’s wall as she scratched at her cheek. “...Well, uh...ya see, sometimes, someone loses a leg when they get pinned and it just gets wrecked beyond fixin’. Other times...they might pick a fight with a beastfolk general and wind up gettin’ their leg torn off by a direwolf when they weren’t lookin’...”

Leok just sighed, then hugged Rishak tight. “I missed ya.”

“...Missed ya too.”

“...Hn.” Leok paused, remembering that there was someone else still in the room. Two someones.

She glanced over at the young, dark-skinned human woman in all white who’d made that small, conflicted noise, who just looked away and took a sip of her tea while her way paler and blatantly vampiric friend chuckled at his own chair. “Oh no, don’t mind us, please! Enjoy your reunion!”

“...Right.” Leok let go of Rishak and took a seat at one of the remaining chairs around the tea table, which was in the lounge–or a lounge–in Bleaksky Manor, which was in Blekhon County, which was a county in Inrapaba. Noble territories worked in some weird ways, but all Leok really knew was that they hadn’t had to pay any taxes while in the county, so she was already pretty damn sure these nobles hosting her reunion with Rishak wanted something. “I think we’ve been ‘reunioned’ enough here, and I’d like ta get down ta business here. Why’d ya put this meetin’ together?”

Turned out, the answer was a really simple one. The young lady, who was apparently Countess Valondrac–which was weird, because the vampire was the actual Bleaksky there–wanted Rishak to join her household as some kinda commander, but Rishak decided somebody else would be better suited for the job.

“...Yer kiddin’, right? Rishak, I got the tribe ta take care of-”

“No no, see, that’s the nice part. In exchange fer becomin’ Claire’s general here, she’s gonna give our tribe free reign ta go wherever we want in the County.”

“That I will,” Valondrac added in with a grin, “No travel tax, no worrying about permits, you’ll have complete freedom to go wherever you feel like, and even settle down if you want to.”

“...Yer willin’ ta give us that much?”

“Yup! It’s part of the price I negotiated with Miss Folk-Bane, so transferring it over your way should be fine, no?”

“No.”

Valondrac blinked. “No?”

Leok shook her head. “No. That’s a good deal, but I ain’t lookin’ ta join up with some noble’s guard. I appreciate the offer, but I’m gonna hafta decline.”

“...” Valondrac studied her for a moment, then smirked. “I’m not looking for a guard. I’m looking for a general. After all, I need strong people by my side if I’m ever going to take over the world.”

“Look, I appreciate what yer-...” Then it was Leok’s turn to blink. “...Take over the world?”

“That’s the plan! Though you may want to keep it a secret for a while. Jonny pointed out that I’ll need to build up my base a lot more before I go all out and declare myself the newest Demon Lord.”

Leok looked to “Jonny”, who grinned and waved, then over at Rishak. “...Did ya know about this?”

“Yup.”

“...I thought ya didn’t like Demon Lords?”

Rishak grinned. “Most’a ‘em. But her honesty appeals ta me, and...well, let’s say she reminded me a lot’a some other proud brat I know.”

Leok paused there, then looked at Valondrac, who was frowning at Rishak for the “brat” comment. “...Hm. Alright, ya got my interest. But. I ain’t workin’ fer someone weaker than I am. Protectin’, sure. Guardin’, sure. But if ya want me ta call ya my boss, my actual, full superior, ya gotta prove yer worth it.”

“Huh...Alright, you’re on.” Valondrac grinned. “Don’t go easy on me. I want this to be fun.”

Leok snorted, grinning back at the arrogant kid and definitely seeing why Rishak liked her. In that moment, the thought crossed her mind that, when Claire lost to her, she might just stick around anyway. She could train the brat up, like her chief did for her… “Don’t go cryin’ when ya lose, ya got it?”

Claire’s yellow eyes gleamed. “Got it~.”

And that’s how Leok met the second person out there who could consistently kick her ass, along with the only one she still couldn’t beat in a fight. Not that she minded. Working with Claire gave her tribe a good chunk of land to live and her plenty of opportunities to try again.

And hey, it wasn’t like her Boss was a bad person to work for. Hell, considering everything she knew about the world, maybe it needed someone powerful enough to take charge. 

Still, she couldn’t help laughing when she realized Crow’s vision had come true. Her shaman just made one little mistake about who was actually leading that army.

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 78

Link quite literally slept through the next two days, only getting up when his stomach demanded that he eat. When his phone alerted him to a call or text, he lifted his head enough to check to see who it was from. Unless it was Mipha, he mostly ignored these alerts. He would have slept through the rest of the summer if he had the chance, but there was still one last thing he needed to; return the Master Sword. The Triforce on hand was a reminder of that. It was dim, but it had been pulsing softly ever since he and Zelda sealed Ganondorf away. He knew he couldn’t waste any more time, but a part of him was sad to part with the sword. It wouldn’t be there waiting for him, leaning against the wall in the corner of his room. As anxious as he was to get back to his normal life, normal life seemed rather dull.

Still, Link finally pulled himself out of his bed, and without a word to his father or his friends, he left the house with the sword and made his way back to the forest where he had found it. If it were still there. The last time they tried to close the portal, the forest seemed to have mysteriously disappeared with no explanation at all. This time, however, the forest was there, just as he had remembered it, seemingly waiting for the return of the Master Sword.

There was no voice to call to him, but he didn’t need it to guide him like he had the first time he wandered through. It was as if he had navigated his way through the bizarre forest time and time again; he knew the path like the back of his hand, picking his way over the brush, weaving in and out between the trees. He was unfazed when a fog crept in around him, but just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, and soon the forest opened up into the meadow. In the center, in the light of the sun, was the pedestal that homed the Master Sword.

Link looked down at the ancient pedestal, covered in dirt and moss. There was a deep slit in the center where he had pulled the sword six months ago. And now, it was time to return it, though it felt as if he were saying goodbye forever to a very close friend. He turned his gaze to the sword in his hand and let his fingers run over the blade. He turned back to the pedestal and before he changed his mind, he placed the sword back into its hold, pushing it in until it would not go any further. He kept his hand on the hilt for a moment, then pulled upwards, but the sword did not budge. He let a light sigh escape his lips, then worked off the string of the charm his father had given him and slid it into his pocket.

“ Goodbye, Master... Thank you...”

Link looked down at the sword and smiled. He saluted it casually before turning his back on it and making his way out of the forest. Once he was passed the treeline, he looked over his shoulder, expecting the forest to disappear. Though it remained, he was sure it would be gone soon enough, protecting the precious weapon that now slept within.

*****

When Link returned, Daruk, Revali, and Teba were waiting for him.

“Where the hell have you been?” Daruk asked.

“Yeah, way to ignore our texts,” Revali said. “Now that you got a girlfriend you’re too good to respond to us?”

“Yeah,” Link said. “Because those group messages were so important.”

“I don’t know how I got dragged into that,” Teba said. He sneered at Revali. “Why the hell did you add me to that?”

“But if you weren’t in it,” Link started, “you would have missed all those gems like.” He paused and fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the messages. He grinned and pointed at the screen, reading the text out loud. “When someone says ‘hold your horses’ they are telling you to be stable.”

“It’s true!” Revali said. “I just realized that!”

“Were you high?” Daruk asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Revali said with a grin.

“What do you want?”

“We are here to discuss the official disbanding of Hyrule’s Champions,” Revali announced.

“Excellent,” Link said. “Just in time. I just dumped the sword.”

“Aw,” Revali said. “Now you’re not cool like the rest of us.”

Link rolled his eyes.

“Do you think you can handle the city this year while we’re off being awesome?”

“Don’t be like that,” Teba said. “You know he’s gonna miss us terribly.”

“We are the only friends he’s got,” Revali said with a frown. “Poor Link.”

Link shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“He’s got a girlfriend now,” Daruk said. “He’s already doing better than you.”

“But does he get laid?” Revali said. “At least I got laid.”

Teba snorted. “When was the last time that happened?”

“Hey,” Revali snapped. “I’ve been a little busy saving the world.” He turned back to link. “Speaking of the Yiga Clan.”

“No one was talking about the Yiga Clan,” Teba said.

“Look,” Link started. “I talked to him, alright?”

“And?” Daruk asked.

“And,” he said slowly. “He told me not to worry about it.”

“That’s exactly what they say when we should be worried about it.”

“He has it under control,” Link said. “We don’t need to be involved.”

“Maybe he’s the one with the Yiga Clan,” Revali said.

“Shut it,” Link growled. “I’m staying out of it. I trust him.”

Revali nodded. “Alright. Fine. If Mr. Hero says it’s fine, then it’s fine.” He wiped his hands together. “Won’t be our problem, anyway. Just remember, you’ll be missing half your crew. Don’t get into trouble. Or killed.”

Link smiled. “You take the fun out of everything.”

“I’m going to miss this,” Revali said, then shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find someone in college to pick on.”

Link frowned. “You’re replacing me? I thought we had something special.”

Revali winked and threw him two finger guns. “Come on, men” he said, turning away. “I still got some partying to do before I gotta ditch this city.” He turned to Link over his shoulder. “Not you.”

“It’s fine,” Link said. “I’m gonna go get laid.”

Revali threw his hand up in the air, half of a high-five. “Nice!”

Teba shook his head and lowered Revali’s hand for him. “Come on, Idiot,” he said. “Or I’m ditching you to get laid, too.”

Daruk followed them out of the driveway. “I can’t believe everyone’s getting laid except me.”

*****

The rest of the summer went just as Hyrule’s Champions hoped it would go. They stayed out late and slept through the mornings, more often than not in each other’s company in one way or another, and usually with three extra tagalongs; Aryll, Riju, and Teba. They spent their days roaming the city or keeping the local restaurants open with their bottomless pits. And from time to time, they dropped by their favorite arcade, only to be chased out by the owner an hour later after an unruly game of laser tag.

And everywhere they went, they were recognized. Children ran up to the for autographs. Teens asked for selfies. Even the older crowd seemed to regard them with a respectful nod, despite the varying degrees of gossip and arguments that had ensued following the first media outbreak. And when it got to be too much for them, they escaped the city to the countryside, returning to their favorite lake with a case of beer.

But the summer quickly came to a close, and before they knew it, Urbosa, Daruk, Revali, and Teba parted ways with their friends to begin their first year in college. Urbosa moved south to the Gerudo region to study law at a prestigious college. Daruk went to Akkala to a school known for their boxing and wrestling teams, which he decided to get into, proudly stating to his friends that he would have to hold back, otherwise there would be no challenge for him.

And despite his father’s refusal to help get into college, Revali managed to follow Teba to a school in Hebra, stating that he would have a babe on each arm and a suit made of ‘hundos’ when he graduated. As far as the group knew, he simply went in with the intent to get a degree in business, but whether he would actually graduate was an entirely different story, considering the college was known to be one of the biggest party schools in the kingdom. “Well, there’s nothing else to do up there,” was Revali’s defense.

The city - and their lives - were much quieter once their friends left for college. But senior year was quickly approaching for Link, Mipha, and Zelda, with promise of heavy work loads and one final push for college applications. It would be enough to occupy their minds and give them a normal life once more, but still, they couldn’t help but to miss the way things were a year ago when the group was whole.

But the night before their first day of senior year, they were all dragged into another group text message, courtesy of Urbosa.

My little babies are seniors tomorrow. Pack a healthy lunch and study hard! I’m looking at you, Link!

Revali didn’t hesitate to jump at the opportunity to tease Link. Let’s be real here. He’s not going to college. He’s gonna milk the hero thing for the rest of his life.

Teba’s response was next. Why am I a part of this…

Because youre our cheerleader, bitch, texted Revali.

Revali we’re sitting next to each other. There was a lull in the chat for a moment until Teba texted again. Revali punched me.

Urbosa responded with an emoji shaking its head.

You bitches are coming to my first fight, Daruk texted.

Link doesn’t condone violence, Revali said. Make love not war guys.

Dude, Link replied. Youre like a 3 days drive away.

Its a 4 hour drive, loser. Dont you miss me?

Link replied with a heart emoji. So much.

Why dont you stick it in his butt, came Revali’s mature reply.

Don’t be jealous of our relationship, Link said.

Does Mipha know?   Teba asked.

We have an open relationship, Mipha finally chimed in.

Does that mean youre open for business? Revali said.

Eat shit, Link quickly replied.

Link and Mipha sitting in a tree, Revali texted.

Oh shit, Link said.

Revali finished the song with a series of kissing emojis and various other symbols that suggested more than kissing.

Omg dont tell her that Link said.

Link, we’re dating.

He responded with two blushing emoji faces.

Where the fuck is Zelda, Urbosa texted.

After a moment, Zelda’s text came through. Hylia, why have you put me into this insufferable group of people.

You love us, Revali said.

Destiny,  Daruk said. Isn’t that kinda her thing?

We belong together, Revali texted.

Revali is singing, now, Teba said. I cannot believe I’m stuck with him for the next four years.

Welcome to my hell, Link said.

I’m muting you all, Zelda said. Some of us have school in the morning.

Suckas, Revali said.

Revali, you do, too, Teba said.

I didn’t come here to go to school.

Good night idiots, Zelda said.

Good night my precious lil babies, Urbosa texted. I love you all and i hope you have a good first day of school! Send mama pictures! And BEHAVE!!

What happens if we don’t behave? Revali asked, following that with a series of winking faces. Are you going to spank me?

Zelda left the chat.

Mipha left the chat.

Link left the chat.

Urbosa left the chat.

Ha.

Daruk left the chat.

FUCKERS.

Teba left the chat.

[missfay49]

Secret Santa 2019: fan fic

Preface: this excerpt is from a story I’m working on with the Sides in a fantasy setting with the working title of, “Right Time, Wrong Vision”.  They did not all grow up together.  Creativity never split in twain.  Team Survival consists of Deceit the Charlatan, Virgil the elf Rogue, and Wrath the Monk.  Team Dreamers is Romulus the Conjurer, Patton the lizardfolk Healer, and Logan the Inventor.

Content Warnings: battle, violence, explosions, injury, blood, crying, gore, body horror, sympathetic Deceit, singular Creativity, buried creature, deformed creatures, burns, cursing, conjured creature death, hurt/no comfort

Ships: none, all relationships are platonic

Set-up: Romulus is an owl aarakocra seer who has convinced everyone that he is blind, a common stereotype among seers.  His unusual-looking eyes helped to sell it, but that lie is about to be revealed…

Story below the cut vvv

Bonus: Mood Board!

               We’re losing the war.  Virgil squinted, glancing around the battlefield and tallying the chaos.  Bricks were still sliding in miniature avalanches down the side of the building hit by the last explosion.  Bystanders ran through the streets, ducking behind awnings and door frames only to burst out again to run to the next house.  

There was Deceit, trying to guide a few terrified people around the more dangerous bits of terrain. Virgil called over the debris.  

“Do you see him?”

Deceit shook his head, turning to look farther down the street and pointing.  Wrath was two blocks down, throwing another of the crime syndicate’s mercenaries through a window.  A shrill scream followed and a woman dragging her child leapt out the door together. Wrath’s face turned to embarrassment and he waved awkwardly at them before moving on to the next merc, who promptly squeaked in a very undignified manner and fled.  The trio regrouped.  

“Literally, your one job was to keep track of the bad guy,” Virgil accused Deceit.  The three of them stood in the middle of the home’s small garden as the dust settled.

“Well, I literally am not as fast as a horse-drawn carriage, so-”

“Where’s your horse-”

“Kindly go fu-”  

“Heeeeey!” A familiar shout interrupted their bickering.

“Do you guys need heeeelp?” Just down a side street, Patton was running toward them, waving a dark leather bag in the air with one scaley-green arm.  Logan jogged behind, trying to keep up but sorely out of shape and weighed down by a lumpy package on his back.  Bits of glinting metal stuck out in several directions.

“What are they doing here?”  Virgil hissed.  “It’s too dangerous!”  Wrath just shrugged, smiling.  Virgil raised his voice to reach them, only just then spotting that infernal blind seer even farther back, meandering through the wreckage.

“Get out of the road!”  He started running to meet them, the others close behind.  As if on cue, movement on the rooftops caught his eye.  Robes… a blue light… that’s-  He drew in a breath and leaned into a full sprint.  He could feel electricity building in the air.

~~~

Logan watched as the rogue dashing full speed right at them glanced up.  Following Virgil’s line of sight, he spotted the danger above them. He jerked his head back to Patton who was happily clambering over a large rock, oblivious.  

Virgil was still paces away.  Too far.  Suddenly full of energy, Logan took two more bounding steps and dove over the boulder, tackling Patton and throwing them both to the ground as a crackling sound was joined by strange words chanting in the breeze.  

~~~

Seeing the pair fall into a pile of rubble ahead of him, Virgil slowed and turned to the others. Deceit slammed into him, not expecting the change.  Virgil grabbed his shoulders, shouting-  

“We need cover, now!”  Wrath scooped them both up and kept running, veering toward a gap under a slab of concrete, but-

The last thing Virgil saw was Romulus, still some twenty feet away.  He faced them head-on, unmoving, eyes like circles.  With a blink, the owl dropped to the ground and slammed both taloned hands on the cobbles.  The earth began to shake and churn, adding its own roar to the crackling just as a flash of light blinded them all.

~~~

Darkness.  

Romulus found himself laying in the street.  Fatigue hit like a truck and he blinked the dust out of his eyes.  A metal cylinder with knobs protruding at right angles stared back at him, water gushing out three sides.

“Oh, no.”

Artificial rain fell.  He looked up at the building where the attacker had stood.  Or, he would have if that building were still up there.  Now, it was all around them in pieces, wood timbers cracked and leaning out of the structure like spears.  Something large must have hit it.  Or, many smaller somethings...

In fact, unnamed items were still pouring out of the ground, covering the area around them. The angle pointed them to where the roof had once been, but they were quickly losing the energy needed to go that high.  They fell back to the earth.  In seconds, the stream came to a stop and all was quiet.  

Gravel flying, a hand shot straight up.  Wrath was climbing out of the rubble, then reaching back to drag Virgil and Deceit out after him. A little dinged up, but nothing too bad. From their shelter, Logan cautiously lifted his head followed by Patton asking, “Is it safe?”  

Logan wordlessly helped Patton to his feet, getting their balance on the uneven terrain together. His bag had ripped and the equipment for the prosthetics scattered.  He didn’t notice it, everyone’s safety was more important.  There was a loud ringing in his ears.  

While Deceit was preoccupied in a futile effort to remove all dust from his clothing, Virgil tried to find something that looked familiar to get his bearings on.  But nothing here looked familiar.

Where once there had been a residential side street of dirt and cobbles, was now completely littered with stuff.  Several of the items were charred and smoking.  Pillows of all shapes and sizes and colors, a few chairs, whole couches even! Maybe they had come from inside the building, but they all seemed too… new.

There were even things he had never seen before.  Like, what was that discus-shaped contraption and why did it have so many metal legs?  

But most fascinating were the cubes.  There was no better word for them; they were perfect cubes, strewn about at random.  They must have been heavy.  Where other items tumbled down the side of the rubble, they stayed put and let the debris flow around them.  Moving images flashed across each side.  Virgil moved closer, watching one cube carefully as images of the attacker flashed across it over and over.  Could he still be near?

A muffled sound below him made Virgil jump.  Leaning back in, he could hear scraping within the rubble.  

“Wrath, gimme a hand.”  The pair starting digging and the sounds immediately got louder.  Deceit picked his way over to peer between their shoulders.  A few painfully long seconds of digging revealed a struggling arm covered in a dull black shirt-sleeve.  Deceit squinted as Wrath hurried to get the person out.  

“Wha…” Virgil breathed out, pulling away from the hole.  

“What is it?” Deceit didn’t register that Virgil never responded, catching sight of the thing as he moved out of the way.  Wrath had uncovered another arm, smaller and just under the first.  A third even smaller arm, this time without so much as an elbow.  The body they were attached to was covered in blood. A pure white rib cage existed partially outside of the body, as if it had grown that way.  The person struggled to free themselves.  

With one more helpful push from Wrath, the person reared up, falling backward onto the debris. Deceit stumbled back with a gasp. Even Wrath stood up, but Virgil appeared to be frozen in place.  Dirty-blonde hair straggled over a burnt, soot-covered scalp.  It gurgled up at them, features melting into each other.  

“Patton, he-aarGH!” Deceit turned to get the healer but stopped short.  Another deformed creature laid between them, moving toward Deceit.  Familiar green scales were its only recognizable trait.  Bones were just a memory for this one, as it inched worm-like across the cobbles and left a dark trail in its wake.  

~~~

Hearing a scream, Romulus pulled himself up.  Deceit and Patton were staring at something on the ground.  

“Oh, don’t- don’t touch that. Hang on!"  

He made to move closer to see, but a groan gave him pause.  Cowering behind another cube, an orange and yellow pattern swirled on a hidden creature.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered as he crouched by the being, putting both hands on one psychedelic limb and willing the creation back into the realm of nightmares.  It mewled, drawing Patton’s attention just before it vanished into the earth.

“Wait!  We can fix it, you said-” Patton cried out to the seer.

"Sorry!”  Romulus interrupted him.  Just gotta take care of this real quick.”

Deceit looked between them, speechless for once, then back to the monstrosity on the ground.  His thoughts seemed to move in slow motion.  The creatures… they’re dressed like us.

Behind him, Virgil continued to stare transfixed at the being crawling out of the rubble.  Wrath had stopped digging and, seeing the reaction his oldest friend was having to it, he stood up and started tugging on Virgil’s arm to pull him up.  The rogue seemed to shake off the stupor then but refused to get up.  His eyes remained locked on the creature.

Patton pulled out of Logan’s grip and chased after Romulus, begging him.  

“You said you wouldn’t do it again!  You said you wouldn’t!  You can’t kill them!  I can help them, heal them!”  He tried to grab the seer, but the man threw him off. 

“They shouldn’t even exist! I-” Romulus stood still for only a moment.  It was enough time for Patton to see the fear on his face.  Romulus raced away to the nearest abomination.  

"Stop it..." Patton cried again, softly this time.  He'd come to a stop, squeezing his eyes shut and just standing in the debris.  The rain from that… thing was slowly soaking through his clothes.  He put both his hands over his mouth and his whole body shook.  A chill ran through him.

"Don’t look!"  Romulus pushed himself in front of Patton, trying to shield him from what getting ‘rid’ of it would look like.  He knelt and put a hand on the thing.  The creation screeched as it sank out of existence.

Deceit blinked.

"How... did you know we were looking at it?"  He asked over the sobs still coming from Patton, over the gasps escaping the seer.  Patton blinked up at Deceit through his claws, then back to Romulus’ shuddering back, confused.  

"Uh-" Romulus’ speckled eyes darted around.  He dramatically turned to face very definitively not in Deceit's direction, brow furrowed.  Something dripped from his talons.  "I saw it in a vision, of course!"  

His voice was trembling.  Tears rolled off his cheek feathers.  His head twitched this way and that, almost as if...

"No, you didn't," Deceit said.  A strangled sound escaped Romulus as he finally spotted the creation half buried in front of Virgil struggling to crawl through the debris.  

"Just a second, dear, " he called back to Deceit, running over to disapparate the pitiful thing.

Patton was muttering to himself, the same thing over and over.  "You can't.  You can't.  You just-"

"You're looking at it right now!"  Deceit shouted.  "You're looking at things!"  

"Aaagh, I'm-" Romulus sniffled, "kinda busy here, Dee." Again, he glanced around the chaos, falling to his knees beside the creation.  He reached out both hands.  "Maybe we can, hhhng-"

A sob cut him off.  He choked, trying to hold in another as he pushed gently on the creation, pushing it out of reality.  This one was sticky.  It looked up at him with too many eyes.  

Wrath stared at each of them in turn, then back at the ground where Virgil continued to grasp fistfuls of rocks.  A low whine was coming out of him.

Logan was still just standing there taking in his surroundings, hands stretched out like another earthquake might strike at any moment.  What was Deceit yelling?  Were they still in danger?  He felt something warm at his hip.  Pulling aside his jacket, the fabric caught on something.  He looked down and saw one of the steel rods from his kit sticking at a rather unexpected angle out of his right side just above the belt.  A dark circle was spreading across the material around it.  

“Oops,” he gasped softly.  No one heard him.

“I'm sorry,” cried Romulus. Tears fell into the mud where the last creation had been.  His talons pressed hard on the ground, and he leaned down until his face touched the stone, shaking.  He whispered into it.  

“I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.”

~~~

Sneak Preview:

               Virgil placed another stick on the fire and leaned back.  The rest of the party was dotted around the campfire, fast-asleep deep in their various accoutrements.

               “One o-clock and aaall’s weeell,” he sang quietly to himself into the clear night.  His breath made a tiny cloud of vapor in the chill.

With a deep breath, Romulus awoke, eyes fluttering open on some instinct.  Virgil hadn't realized he'd been staring at the man while he waited out his shift.  He tilted his head, whispering.

"Another nightmare?"

"A vision," Romulus murmured, or thought he did.  "I dreamt of a goddess.  She wept for centuries, and cast herself upon the Rock, dying so she could try again." His words tumbled out haphazardly, galaxy eyes wide and searching, as if he could still see it all in his mind.  “The pieces fell from the sky, they… where did they go?”  

Virgil tried to keep the skepticism from showing up in his voice.  

"Huh.  Okay, well... try to get some rest.  We've still got days of travel left to..."  He trailed off.  Further explanation was apparently unnecessary as Romulus gave the smallest of quick nods and burrowed back into the blankets without another word.

~~~

Virgil recalled that night now, as relentless winds swirled through the mountains, pelting them with hail and debris.  Logan and Deceit were taking shelter beneath a tree, leaves already ripped away, the whole thing threatening to uproot.  Wrath hung on to Patton’s petite lizard frame, little claws digging into his arm; he’d nearly been carried away by the sudden storm.

Virgil, eyes locked on the dangerous sky, shouted over the gale, "You never said "VISION"!"  

[statusquoergo]

Credit where credit is due, Gabriel did a nice job directing this episode. He had more screen time that I’m used to from actors pulling double duty, and he seems to have handled the extra workload well.

That’s not to say the episode was flawless. Yeah, by Season 9 standards, it was pretty good overall, but I mean. Season 9 standards.

We start off at home with Louis and Sheila having a terse exchange over tea as I wonder, yet again, why they’re together at all if they’re always so goddamn pissy about everything. Louis bemoans his demotion as Sheila irritably directs him to drink his rooibos and asks him what the big deal is, being that he didn’t even want the job in the first place (true). Louis parries that he only said that because Donna offered it to him the same night he found out about Sheila’s pregnancy (true), but at any other time in his life, he would have taken it (false). On the contrary, you may remember this fairly unambiguous exchange from “Pecking Order” (s08e02) between Doctor Lipschitz and Louis: “As I recall, you accepted Harvey becoming managing partner after Jessica left.” “That’s when I realized I didn’t want to be managing partner.” I suppose I’ve never accused this show of internal consistency before, why bother starting now?

Louis then delightfully compares himself to a ball-less cat and laments that though “the job wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, [he] was getting really good at it,” and excuse me but what? Forget that disastrous hearing that summoned Faye to their doorstep, his most recent acts as managing partner include trying to bully Professor Gerard into letting him be the keynote speaker at Harvard’s Ethic Conference to talk up his failing firm, and going completely off the rails trying to fire the poor IT guy for failing to digitally break into the New York State Bar Association. Louis sucked at being managing partner.

Next up is a reminder that I need to be careful what I wish for as Donna and Harvey discuss his reflexive support of her impassioned but quite incorrect argument against Louis trying to fire Benjamin, and how much she didn’t appreciate it. Turns out it wasn’t so reflexive; he did it because she thought she would like it, which is its own magnificently flawed concept—thinking she’ll get mad at him for disagreeing with her doesn’t say much for his respect for her integrity—but then Donna realizes that he’s afraid she’s going to leave him if he doesn’t unconditionally support her, and you just know the writers thought they were being real clever with this. (Wait, isn’t one of Harvey’s defining character traits his ability to read people? “You read books, I read people” was actually one of the first things he said to Mike in the pilot… Gosh it’s been a long time.)

As I was saying about this show’s internal consistency, two things about this whole exchange: One, all through Season 7, Harvey had no trouble calling Paula out when she was being ridiculous and disagreeing with her about all kinds of shit. Two, as recently as “Everything Changes” (s09e01), Harvey cooed that “[he’s] finally where [he’s] supposed to be” when he’s with Donna, to which Donna replied “We both are,” and like, are they a match made in Heaven right out of the box or what? His trust in their relationship is wildly inconsistent. Unless he wants to forfeit his autonomy for some reason? I don’t know, it’s weird and I don’t like it.

I also take issue with Donna’s dismissive “Oh, my god. Of course. Harvey, I’m not gonna leave you.” This has been an issue for him since forever, as she well knows, but rather than ask him what’s wrong—is he really afraid she’ll leave him over something so small?—or point out that he needs to go to therapy (if she wants to be tactful, she could ask if he wants to “talk to someone” about this), she treats it as an endearing character quirk, and someone needs to save Harvey from all this shit yesterday.

The interruption to this…reconciliation isn’t quite as cringy as the can opener bit from the last episode, but I’ve gotta call it out for being just some truly lazy storytelling. Gretchen appears out of nowhere to tell them they “need to go see Louis,” on account of his demotion, and Donna’s deer-in-headlights response is “Oh, my god. We need to go to him right now.” Yeah, no shit, that’s what Gretchen just said, except this framing affords Harvey the opportunity to mount his noble high horse and declare: “No. You go to him. I need to go see Faye.” Which he does, dramatic music and all, declaring that “dammit, not everybody has to do everything by [her] book,” and I must point out that she demoted Louis for trying to fire the employee who he asked to perform an illegal activity that he failed to perform only because he was caught; in what book is that okay? He then asserts: “You want consequences, I’ll give you consequences,” which is delightfully reminiscent of that old classic, “I’ll give you something to cry about,” in that it makes absolutely no sense, and Harvey, you adorable impetuous dumbass, if your goal is to convince her to leave, I think you might be going about it in a little bit the wrong way.

Roll title crawl! (No seriously, that was all just the cold open.)

Anyway Donna does go to comfort Louis, already treating herself and Harvey as a unit when she assures him that “if [he] ever [needs her] or Harvey during any of this Faye bullshit,” they’re there for him, and dropping the much more interesting detail that she has a much older sister she doesn’t want to talk about who “turned every man she was ever with into an emotional doormat,” which I don’t have time to fic right now but I feel like might explain a lot. Then Alex and Samantha have an endearing little exchange wherein Samantha proposes doing something to help Louis and Alex clarifies that it has to be ethical, and it’s nice to know that at least a couple of people around here aren’t completely insane.

Speaking of things being insane, I won’t fault Gabriel for this because the direction itself is fine, but from a writing perspective, the narrative construct of this next scene is terrible. Harvey shows up at a meeting with Some Guy whose nondescript company is apparently, thanks to his board and the company’s lawyers, being taken over (by someone) against his wishes, and the only hint of context for any of this is that “the people” orchestrating this takeover are “related” to Faye. The obvious conclusion to this exchange is that Harvey is going to help this guy, who is apparently the CEO of this random organization, sue the company by acting as a shareholder rather than a C-level employee, and I still have no idea what the fuck is going on.

Back at the firm where I do kind of know what’s going on, Susan the Associate approaches Katrina with a problem she found in the VersaLife case Katrina’s working, and as soon as they gave her a name in the last episode, I know she was going to be important. More to the point, it looks like Katrina’s got herself an associate! (Remember when senior partners were required to hire their own associates? It was a whole big thing back in Season 1, I think.)

Next up, Louis is having lunch with an old friend, Saul the Judge, who informs him that some other judge is retiring or being fired or something, and offers him a judgeship, and there is so much wrong with this scene that I don’t even know where to begin.

Yes I do. Since when has Louis’s lifelong dream been to be a judge? This is literally the first time he’s ever expressed any interest in it, at all. And another thing, that is not how judicial selection works.

In New York State, judges, depending on the court, are either appointed by the governor and confirmed by the State Senate, nominated by a commission and approved by the governor, chosen at a partisan nominating convention and elected by the voting public, or appointed by the mayor. Qualified individuals can apply to be considered, such as by the Mayor’s Advisory Committee, but there’s no one-and-done offer/acceptance transaction between someone currently on the bench and his lawyer pal, so either this guy is offering Louis a job that doesn’t exist or, more likely, the writers don’t know shit about the New York City legal system.

Moving on. Harvey shoves a recusal form in Faye’s face as he informs her that he “got” a case against her old firm, and he’s “taking it,” as though he didn’t go way out of his way to hunt it down in the first place. He then throws a stupidly juvenile hissy fit, claiming he’ll use whatever he fucking has to to “win,” and prove his system his better than hers, but he won’t have to cross any lines because she de-balled (second reference, just as charming as the first) the guys at her old firm so much that “they’re shaking in their boots” at the mere threat of lawsuit. This whole exchange is basically a showcase of Harvey acting like a spoiled child, and I know he’s a passionate guy but I gotta say, I’m getting tired of this whole act.

Back to that clusterfucking disaster of a judgeship offer, Louis fesses up to Sheila but admits that he doesn’t want to accept the drop in salary with a kid on the way, or leave his friends in the lurch, and she in turn fesses up that she asked Saul to make the offer in the first place because “being a judge has always been [his] dream.” (SINCE WHEN?) Louis is incensed until she tells him that it was basically Saul’s idea, but that if he doesn’t take it now, he’ll never get the change again, which… Why? Well, I guess they haven’t pointlessly manufactured any tension in awhile. Anyway, Louis promises to sleep on it.

Elsewhere, Samantha proposes committing conspiracy to get Faye out of their lives and Alex shuts that shit right away, and I’m actually really enjoying their dynamic right now. Susan asks Katrina what she should do about a smart, funny paralegal she clicks with; Katrina, having “seen that before,” recommends finding a new paralegal, and I’ve never had this question before but is Katrina anti-Machel for some reason? Doesn’t matter. Susan proposes reaching out to opposing counsel, who just so happens to be an old family friend, and Katrina wisely tells her not to, but somewhat less wisely starts and ends her rationale with “Because I know,” which I’m sure won’t motivate Susan to act in any sort of way.

Now, I’m no dream theorist, but luckily this show has all the subtlety of a Liberace action figure, so it’s not too difficult to figure out what Louis’s subconscious mind is trying to say: He wants to humiliate Faye (for demoting him and taking over his firm), he wants to bang Donna (and maybe also Alex), he thinks of Harvey as his peer but also his inferior (who he wants desperately to impress and probably also to fuck), and his confidence is mainly derived from the approval and admiration of others. Also he wants to have sex with basically everyone. Maybe not Gretchen. But everyone else.

Dr. Lipschitz, to whom Louis was evidently relaying the events of this dream, finds the whole thing quite amusing, but points out that if Louis takes the judgeship, he won’t have his friends around him anymore. Double-edged sword and all that.

Part II

[everlastingcaptainswan]

Mark Your Calendars (3/13) Modern AU 

Summary: 12 holidays. 2 stubborn people in love. One very interesting year.

Ao3       FF 

Chapter Three: St. Patricks Day 

“This damn holiday is just an excuse for people to drink and make jokes about irishmen,” Liam groans when he enters Killian’s apartment with Elsa trailing behind him.

“Ah come on its fun, brother,” Killian says shutting the door behind the couple. Liam just grumbles some more while Killian changes out of his work clothes quickly.

“I thought you were going to be ready when we got here,” Liam shouts to his brother through Killian’s closed bedroom door.

“I was supposed to be, but criminals don’t respect the end of my shift. Dave and I had to chase a suspect through Central Park,” Killian shouts back.

“A likely story,” Liam grumbles starting to pace around Killian’s kitchen. Killian pulls on a pair of black jeans and the shirt he bought for the occasion.

“Why do you care if we’re on time tonight anyway? You’ve made it clear you don’t want to go,” Killian points out, opening the door to his bedroom. Elsa chuckles when she sees Killian’s shirt.

“Killian, you can’t wear that!” she says through her laughter. Killian is wear a bright green t-shirt that says kiss me I’m Irish across his chest in white lettering with a white shamrock in the middle of his chest. Liam just rolls his eyes then glares at his brother.

“I can and I will, Elsa.” She just shakes her head.  

“You bought that just to piss me off,” Liam crosses his arms. Killian just smiles. Liam’s right, he definitely bought this shirt just to piss him off. Liam has never been shy about how much he hates this stupid holiday. Killian doesn’t really care about it one way or another, but it’s definitely fun to push all of his brother’s buttons.

“I might have, but your reaction is definitely worth it,” Killian smiles at his brother.

“Let’s go and get this idiotic night over with,” Liam groans.

“If you keep complaining then you are going to be the designated driver for the night,” Killian tells him with all seriousness. All color drains from Liam’s face.

“You wouldn’t dare make me be sober with all the idiots out tonight,” Liam says.

“I’ll tell Mary Margaret you volunteered if you keep this up,” Elsa shakes her head. Liam exchanges shocked looks with both his brother and fiancé. Valentines Day was a busy night all around for the Jones brothers. That night was the first time of many that  Killian and Emma had sex. Liam and Elsa got engaged. By all reports it was entirely cheesy, Liam proposed in a goddamn horse drawn carriage ride through Central Park.

“This is nice my fiancé and my brother ganging up on me,” Liam says throwing his hands in the air.

“Honey, you’re being a bit of a downer,” Elsa says taking his hand in hers. He just frowns, but stops complaining.

“Come on, let’s go. We’re definitely going to be late now,” Killian chuckles while pulling on his coat.

“Fine,” Liam says before opening the door for Elsa. Killian thinks tonight is going to be very interesting.

Despite Emma’s usual hatred for most holidays she actually likes St. Patrick’s Day. It’s fun and gives people an excuse to go out and drink. Also, a lot of people do stupid shit on this holiday in a couple weeks there are usually a lot of people skipping out on their bail. It’s good for business and a good night out, so there’s not much to hate there. Although tonight there is one wrinkle in going out. Killian will be there.

Since Valentines Day they just keep falling into bed together. Emma has tried to stop because god sometimes she can’t handle how well he knows her or how he looks at her. Sometimes this whole thing between them scares the hell out of her. It’s not like they’re dating though it’s just sex. At least that’s what Emma thought until about a few days ago… Emma pulls on her underwear and his t-shirt before climbing back into bed. Killian brings her into his chest.

“Swan, we gotta talk about something,” Killian says his voice serious. Emma’s heart stops in her chest. While there are times they still fight she really likes sleeping with him. More than she’ll ever admit to anyone who asks, but then that would require someone to know about them. Elsa gives her a lot of knowing looks, but Emma hasn’t confided in her since Valentines Day. In fact she likes Killian more than she ever thought she would. They start to get to know each other better in the quiet moments after sex.

“Okay, what?” she asks carefully.

“When are you going to let me take you out on a date?” Killian asks with a smirk. Now, Emma can hear her heartbeat in her ears from how fast its beating.

“I-” she starts her eyes searching his. She hates that she can feel the panic raising inside of her. Emma wants to be a normal blushing girl when a guy asks her out, but the simple fact is she’s not. She can’t help thinking that in the back of her mind that he’ll leave like all the others.

“Stop. I don’t need an answer now. You tell me when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere,” Killian tells her. His thumb sweeping back and forth across her cheek before he kisses her.

Emma feels guilty, she wants to give him an answer. She wants to tell him that despite their years of fighting she actually likes him. Every time she tries say something along those lines it stops on the tip of her tongue. She’ll tell him soon, definitely soon.

Emma glances at the time on her phone and curses. She’s late and Mary Margaret is going to be pissed with her, although she should really expect it at this point. Emma’s always late to all the holiday bullshit. She grabs her phone and wallet before running out the door.

By the time Emma gets there the bar is packed and Mary Margaret has managed to get their large group a table big enough for all of them. Emma’s sure that Mary Margaret glared at people until they left the table while David stood behind her. Emma is the last person there from their group. David and Mary Margaret are at the head of the table. Dorothy and Ruby are practically sharing one chair. Elsa and Liam are staring at each other lovingly, one of Liam’s arms thrown over the back of her chair. Kristoff has an arm wrapped around Anna, who is engaged in an animated conversation with Killian. His eyes meet hers when she walks in and Emma swears her heart stops at the look he gives her.

“Emma Swan, while I’m not surprised you’re late you could try to be on time,” Mary Margaret scolds her. Emma rolls her eyes.

“Maybe next time, Mom,” Emma teases her. Mary Margaret just sighs and hands Emma a Guiness.

“I ordered for you. Go sit down,” Mary Margaret orders her. Emma accepts it and looks for the only open seat. Of course it is next to Killian who is wearing a bright green shirt with the words kiss me I’m Irish sprawled across the chest.

“Jones, you’re seriously wearing that in public?” Emma snorts as she sits down.

“Yes, I am. I also want you to know you’re not the first person to comment on my lovely shirt,” he says puffing out his chest. She rolls her eyes. They may be sleeping together, but they are still their normal bickering selves around their friends. They agreed to not tell anyone just yet. They have a nosey, at times annoying group of friends and Emma needs time to figure out how she feels. She doesn’t want anyone else in their business for now.

“Lovely isn’t the word I would use for that shirt, but whatever you say,” Emma raises an eyebrow before sipping her beer.

“Are you two going to argue all night?” Anna asks, annoyed.

“Anna, those two don’t know how to do anything else,” Liam teases them. Killian just glares and Emma chuckles. If Liam only knew that Emma and Killian could do a great more than argue. For instance Killian is excellent with that tongue of his.

“Well can you please try not to?” Anna asks them. Killian just laughs shaking his head.

“No promises, Anna,” Emma shrugs and Anna just sighs. David stands and taps his glass getting everyone’s attention.

“Look we all wanted you guys to come out tonight for more than just celebrating this dumb holiday. We have something to tell you,” David shouts over the noise in the bar. He places a hand on Mary Margaret’s back, looking down at her. She smiles and returns the same loving, adoring look to David.

“I’m pregnant!” Mary Margaret cheers and the whole table explodes in congratulations. Killian wolf whistles and Liam springs up to bring David into a hug. Emma gets up and finds Mary Margaret, who brings her into a bone crushing hug.

“You could’ve told me it was important to be on time because you had big news,” Emma shouts.

“And ruin the look of surprise on your face? Never,” Mary Margaret chuckles. Liam buys the table a round of shots minus Mary Margaret of course. Once they sit back down again Killian pinches Emma’s ass when no one is looking.

“What the fuck was that for,” she hisses, murder in her eyes.

“Swan, you’re not wearing green of course,” he winks at her. Oh so he wants to play this game with her? He won’t win.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean I’m not wearing it, Jones,” she whispers her voice sultry. Killian chokes on his beer.

“Still can’t see it, Swan,” he replies when he recovers.

“Maybe you haven’t earned the right to see it yet,” she says challenging him. Killian leans in and stares deeply into her eyes.

“You sure you want to play this game, Swan?” he whispers, in order to make sure no one can hear them.

“You’re on,” she whispers and he nods before leaning back. Everyone gets pulled into an ER story told by Dorothy. Killian’s hand slides onto Emma’s knee underneath the table. Killian starts tracing lazy circles onto the fabric of her jeans. Thess subtle, little touches want her needing more. When his hand moves up her thigh as high as he’ll dare she knows she needs to make her next more soon. The smirk on his damn face indicates the bastard knows all too well what he’s doing to her.

Emma slips off her leather jacket to reveal a tight gray tank top, her cleavage in full sight. Killian’s hand slips off her thigh, leaving him looking a little fuck struck. She smiles and goes to the bar with Ruby to retrieve shots for the table, making sure to sway her hips. Emma can feel Killian’s gaze on her and she knows she’s winning.

When they come back to this table Killian is blushing and everyone is looking at him expectantly.

“Oh what did we miss?” Ruby asks excited.

“Liam asked Killian if his girlfriend was coming tonight,” Elsa says with a smug look on her face. This almost causes Emma to drop the shots she’s holding.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Killian tells the table. The girls pass around the shots and down them quickly.

“Oh yeah those hickeys just appear magically overnight, huh?” David snorts. Liam nods in agreement. Emma likes leaving her mark on Killian and well he hasn’t complained as of yet. Emma slips back into her seat quietly, not sure where this is going.

“So, you’re seeing someone?” Mary Margaret asks.

“Oh come on, Jones doesn’t date. One night stands are more his style,” Emma says coming to his rescue.

“Oh Emma be nice,” Mary Margaret scolds.

“No, Swan’s right. I’ve just been lucky lately,” Killian shrugs and Elsa shakes her head.

“Whatever you say, brother,” Liam shrugs and the conversation moves on. Not long after Emma excuses herself to the restroom. That was a close call. It’s not like she’s embarrassed of him or anything, but if everyone knows they will be all up in their business every minute of the day. She just needs to figure out how she feels before that craziness ensues.

Emma comes out of the restroom and runs right into none other than Killian. His arm wraps around her waist.

“What the hell was that back there?” he asks her.

“I thought we weren’t ready for the group to know yet?” she asks confused.

“Oh right because I’m your dirty little secret, huh?” he asks his eyes searching hers.

“No, what? It’s not like that at all,” his hand slips off of her and steps away.

“You haven’t shown me otherwise. Emma, after Milah I can’t be someone’s secret again. I’ve given you space, but I need more than this,” he shrugs before walking away. Late one night he told her about Milah, the married woman he was with a couple of years ago. How terribly she treated him, how he thought they loved each other, but in the end it was just an affair to make her husband jealous. Emma had carefully listened and didn’t judge him for what happened.  

“Killian,” she calls out after him. Shit, she doesn’t want to lose him. He’s not a dirty secret, she’s terrified of her feelings for him because the only thing she’s ever felt remotely similar to this was all those years ago when Neal broke her heart. Then again this was nothing like Neal at the same time. Killian is a much better man than Neal ever was. Emma knows he’s not going anywhere, but she’s terrified to end up with a broken heart again, which may happen anyway if she doesn’t fix this.

Emma needs to fix this. With a plan in mind she storms after Killian. The rest of the table sees her coming before he does with their eyes wide. She grabs a fistful of his stupid t-shirt, pulling Killian out of his chair. She pulls him into her, kissing the hell out of him. It takes him by complete surprise and it takes him a moment to respond. He wraps his arms around her waist pulling her in closer. When they finally break apart everyone, but Elsa is staring at them with their mouths wide open.

“He has a girlfriend,” is all Emma says before sitting back down. Killian sits down and wraps his arm around the back of her chair. Before they can say anything else a flurry of money is exchanged between everyone. Elsa is making out like a bandit with a large grin on her face.

“You couldn’t have waited like a week to say that,” Ruby says to Emma handing over a twenty to Elsa.

“You all bet on us?” Killian asks shocked. Emma just laughs. Of course this group of assholes bet on them.

“You were pretty obvious. Especially tonight,” Ruby winks.

“Some of us didn’t think so,” David says with his arms crossed. Mary Margaret leans closer to Emma.

“He was convinced it was someone else,” she whispers to Emma. She sends an apologetic look to her brother. Killian kisses Emma’s cheek before getting up and walking over to David.

“Come on, Dave. Let’s go for a walk,” Killian says patting his partner’s shoulder. David glares, but stands up following Killian out of the bar. Outside in the cold night air Killian turns to his friend.

“I’m not going to apologize for being with your sister or not asking for permission or something else ridiculous. Although I will apologize for how you found out. I wanted to tell you myself,” Killian explains.

“You think that’s what I am mad about?” David huffs, crossing his arms. Killian just raises an eyebrow and nods.

“I’m not mad for some overprotective bullshit, Emma can take care of herself. I’m mad cause I’m your partner and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on. What else aren’t you telling me?” David asks him, his anger boiling over.

“David, it’s not that I didn’t trust you. You know Emma with her sky high walls I was trying to get her to trust me and let her figure out how she felt. I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Killian tells him. David sighs.

“No, I get it. I should be glad that you were being considerate of her boundaries, just no more secrets okay?” David says hands on his hips.

“No more I promise,” he says patting David on the back before heading back inside.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, well as smoothly as a big group of drunk friends trying to get home can be. Killian and Emma decide to walk home apart from their friends. Hand in hand they head back to Killian’s place.

“So you’re my girlfriend, huh? We haven’t even gone on a date yet,” he teases her.

“When you asked to take me out I wanted to say yes, but I just-” she sighs, shaking her head.

“How about a redo?” he asks and she nods, “Emma Swan, will you go out with me?” Emma stops walking and pulls Killian in for a kiss. It’s sweet and soft. Their lips glide over each other, his tongue working its way into her mouth. His hand finds its way into her hair. They break apart and lean their foreheads against each other.

“So was that a yes?” he chuckles. Emma pulls back and kisses his cheek.

“Yes, it was. Come on, Jones. You still need to see a certain green garment I’m wearing for this stupid holiday,” Emma says with a sly smile. She slips out of his arms and starts to walk away from him.

“Little minx,” Killian says before running after her and scooping her into his arms. Emma laughs and buries her head into the crook of his neck.

[mindfulwrath]

Onward

A BuzzFeed Unsolved Fanfic

A spirit can only move on when it has completed its unfinished business.

Or, it can't, because ghosts aren't real.

Words: 4,922 Warnings: Blood & gore, major character death Additional tags: Angst with a happy ending, character turned into a ghost, platonic Shane & Ryan

AO3 Link

"It's really kinda nice up here, don't you think?" Shane says, looking out over the vast moorlands. Moonlight glimmers off of brackish water, casts soft shadows across lumps of heather and gorse.

"You're insane," Ryan spits.

"What? You don't think it's nice? Just look at this view! It's lovely."

"It's creepy as fuck, aaaaaaand you're crazy."

"Okay, well have fun looking for ghosts while I'm enjoying the beautiful Scottish countryside."

"Yeah, thanks, I will," Ryan says under his breath, shaking his head. He raises his voice and speaks for the cameras. "Okay, so, here we are up on the battlements of Crathes Castle, uh, Shane is admiring the scenery, but we are hopefully gonna see something much more interesting. Now, the curator told us there'd been some restoration ongoing up here, so uh, watch your step, 'cuz . . . oh boy."

"We are pretty high up," says Shane, sticking his neck out to look over the parapet. Far below, there's a pale square of concrete, some outbuilding being redone after falling over. It's about the size of a postage stamp from this perspective.

"And when Shane's saying that, you know it's high."

"Hah-hah, the height jokes! Fruit so low-hanging, even you can reach it."

"Yep, sure, that's about what I expected from you. Anyway, let's see if we can find some ghosts."

"You do that, I'm just gonna hang out here and watch."

"Yeah, good, stay out of my way," says Ryan.

Shane spares a glance over his shoulder at the camera. He shakes his head. As Ryan starts up his customary shouting-at-nothing, Shane puts his elbows up on the parapet and leans back, settling in for the show.

Stone grinds on crumbling masonry. Ryan yelps. Shane flails at empty air.

"Whoah, fuck—"

There's no scream. There's a horrible, plunging sickness, and an instant of perfect clarity.

The second-to-last thing that goes through Shane's head is, Wouldn't it be ironic if—

The last thing is a four-foot piece of rebar.

It isn't surprising that the universe has a cruel sense of humor. That's been made evident since the dawn of time, in things like rosy-lipped batfish and mass-extinctions and the invention of capitalism. The Homers and Ovids of the world, the Shakespeares and Edgar Allen Poes, they might actually have gotten things kind of almost right—at least in that whoever's running things, they're 1. a poet, and 2. a bastard.

It is somewhat surprising to look down at his own dead body.

"Son of a bitch," he says.

His body settles, dripping blood. There's a lot of blood, and a lot of him is broken—shattered, really. A noise draws his attention upward, a shout and clamor. Shane can't make out what it is. The sound is distorted, and now that he's paying attention, everything else is, too. It's like a dreamscape, like someone took dozens of photographs over decades of time, printed them on transparencies and overlaid them. If he concentrates, he can pick out individual images and bring them to the forefront.

Something moves in the doorway. Shane can't quite focus on it. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes. He's not sure, but he thinks he can hear screaming, and it stirs something in him and he doesn't like it. Fortunately, it goes away pretty quickly, and silence falls again.

"Well?" he calls out. "What now?"

The world does not answer.

"Do I have to stay here, or can I, like, go? Can I just go? 'Cuz uh, gotta tell you, I'm not really into the whole ghost-thing!"

Still, nothing. The distant sound of sirens drifts on the breeze. He looks down at his body and folds his arms.

"Oh, shit, I could go to my own funeral," he realizes. "Boy, that'd be a trip, huh?"

All's quiet on the moors, save for the approaching sirens. Shane glances over his shoulder. Out of curiosity, he wanders back to the camera crew. The bright lights leave the world in a haze, illuminating a sea of phantasmal cars, buses, carriages, horses, people. It's hard to focus on the ones that are here now, so much so that it gives Shane a killer headache.

Or maybe that's just the lingering memory of the rebar going through his skull. Could be either.

He finds Ryan huddled up in the back of the equipment van, a blanket around his shoulders and about six people clustered around him. He's shaking like crazy, his eyes wide and wild, and he's . . . he's. . . .

Sobbing.

He's explaining, to the crew, what happened. The words are a jumbled mess. Tears stream down his face. They're trying to comfort him, but they all look just as shell-shocked and sickened and scared. Somebody calls Ryan's girlfriend for him. Somebody else is on the phone with corporate, and someone's still talking to the emergency dispatcher, and Ryan—and Ryan is crying so hard he can't breathe. . . .

Shane backs away, slowly. He goes back to the shattered wreck of his own body, sits down on a chunk of stone that might have been dragged off two hundred years ago. It's less disturbing than the scene back at the van.

"Man, I look like a really fucked-up unicorn," he remarks. "I got brains comin' out the back of my head! That's no good!"

Nobody answers. Blue and red flashing lights crest the hill. Shane sighs and hangs his head.

"And here's me, talking to air again," he mutters. "Okay. So uh—here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna leave. I'm gonna go do . . . other stuff. And not watch them take my body outta here, 'cuz that's gonna be gross. Eugh."

And he's not going to attend his own funeral, either, he decides, as he wanders down the hill away from the castle. He'd kind of assumed everybody else would be as cool with him dying as he was, that it would be no big deal, that it would be sad, but overall just another Thing That Happens. He doesn't want to see Ryan cry again. He doesn't want to see any of his other coworkers cry, either, his friends, or—God forbid—his parents. He doesn't want to be mourned.

It occurs to him about an hour later, as he's slogging through a thousand years of Scottish fen.

He is in an absolutely unique position to find out exactly where, and how many times, Ryan was wrong.

It's hard to gauge the passage of time, but it's probably been a few years, and Shane has learned something very important about ghosts: they don't happen where—or to whom—popular opinion had it.

The big places, the asylums and castles and manors, they're quiet, they're empty. Taverns can be a little bit more populous, although they really aren't any fun.  Nobody's having a good time in this part of the afterlife, and most people are alone. He almost never sees anyone with a friend, and never a group of more than three. He's really hoping he never runs into anybody he knows, for . . . lots of reasons.

It's the mundane places that are really teeming, the streetcorners and back-alleys, the factories, the wilderness. And it's not the big people, either—not the mobsters and judges and doctors, but the urchins, the servants, the prostitutes, forgotten in life and forgotten in death. He made it back to America eventually, and the horrors that soaked the earth there made him sick. Not a square inch of all that once-beautiful land was free of blood. In places, it's like the earth itself has died. In places, he can see its ghosts, too.

One place he finds Ryan was right about is Salem.

There's an old house, well-kept, slightly more there than most other structures he finds, although he's sure he never saw it when he was alive. He climbs the steps. An old Black woman sits by the fire.

"Are you Tituba?" he asks. It's a stupid thing to say, but he hasn't said much in a long time. Most of the other ghosts don't like talking to him. For a minute, he thinks Tituba won't, either.

"I remember you," she says. "You were very rude."

"I guess I was," says Shane. "Uh . . . sorry."

She rocks her chair. The fire crackles, although it makes no warmth.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"If you want to know the answer."

"Why are you still here? Why haven't you gone . . . wherever dead people go?"

"I'm waiting," she says.

"For what?"

A shrug is all he gets.

"Well . . . good luck, I guess," he says. "I hope it comes to you, whatever it is."

He asks around a little more after that, although people who will talk to him are few and far between. Why are some of us here? It's obviously not everyone. Why are you here?

And he gets the same answer.

I'm waiting.

Time has passed. Shane's more well-traveled than he's ever been, but there's still a strange restlessness in him. Something, he feels, needs to be done, but he'll be damned if he knows what it is. It gets so bad that at one point he risks going to visit his own grave.

It's nice. The tombstone is nice. There's no epitaph, which is about what he wanted. Somebody's left flowers, although they're plastic.

"Kitchy," he says to no one. "Get that shit outta here."

"Plastic?"

Shane starts. There's another man, very old, loitering at a nearby grave. It's the first time someone's struck up a conversation with him, instead of the other way around.

"Uh . . . yeah," he says. The old man shakes his head.

"Kind gesture, but it does feel cheap, doesn't it."

"I guess."

"I always told them not to put plastic flowers on my grave, but some damn fool's done it anyway."

"Sucks. I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "No point in getting upset about it now. Say, do you know when the chariots or what-have-you come down?"

"I don't," Shane admits. "I've never seen 'em."

"Ah, what a shame. I'll wait, then. It's not like I have anything else to do."

"Right?" he says, chuckling, shaking his head.

Between one moment and the next, the old man disappears, like smoke, like fog. There's not even a shadow of him left, not in all the layers of history painted across the world.

Even without a choir of angels, or a blast of Hellfire, it's pretty obvious what just happened. Maybe neither of those things exist to happen, and the vanishing is all there is, after this.

Shane looks down at the flowers on his grave. He takes a deep breath.

"Okay," he says. "All right. I get it."

It's going to take a while to get to L.A., but he's got time.

Ryan's actually kind of doing okay. That's a pretty firm marker on how long Shane's been gone. Incredibly, he's still doing Unsolved, even the paranormal stuff. He's got a new guy working with him, too, although they're a little stilted and they have difficulty making each other laugh, even for the cameras. They seem like they're getting along okay, though. Ryan's definitely chilled out a lot since the last time Shane saw him. He's rusty on the ghost hunting.

It takes a while, takes a lot of following and waiting, but eventually Shane gets the chance to tag along on a trip.

"Man, this brings back some memories, huh," he says, meandering along behind Ryan as he creeps through some abandoned, burnt-out warehouse. "Look at you, though! You grew a big ol' spine since the last time I saw you."

Ryan doesn't respond, because of course he doesn't. He's looked right through Shane a dozen times already. Shane's not too bothered by it. Nobody's seen him in years.

The hunt goes like it always goes. Eventually Ryan and the new guy split up. The new guy goes first.

"This is so dumb," he mutters to the camera, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Right?" says Shane. He shakes his head. "Hey, take a little nap, buddy. It's nice! Nice little break from all the craziness."

The guy waits out his five minutes. Shane hangs out. Ryan comes in, trades some banter with the new guy, and is left alone.

Something about the way he moves makes Shane's mind come into sharper focus. The layered blur of the world grows clear in the darkness when Ryan turns out his flashlight.

"Oh, man," he whispers. "Okay. I'm getting chills already. Shit. Shi-hi-hit. No, I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm a big boy. I got my big boy pants on."

"Calm down, big boy, nobody's gonna hurt you," says Shane, rolling his eyes.

But something in him hurts. Something aches. He hasn't felt a damn thing in years, but suddenly, now, it's almost like being alive again. It's almost like he wants something again.

"All right," Ryan says, raising his voice. "So, uh, if there's anybody here with me, uh, my name is Ryan Bergara, I'm a—a paranormal investigator."

"Oh, huh, are you? Is that what you're calling it these days?" says Shane, folding his arms.

"Um . . . if there's anyone here, can you make a noise?"

"No, Ryan, I can't make a noise, because I'm a ghost, and I can't interact with the material world, ya big dummy. I'm made of ectoplasm, or—electromagnetism, or something, I don't actually know. But it doesn't touch stuff! Sometimes if I concentrate real hard, I can walk through walls!"

Ryan just stands and listens. His head swivels back and forth like a radar dish. His eyes are wide and bright. He swallows. He waits, and waits, and waits.

"Okay," he says to himself. "Okay, okay, that's fine, that's okay. Uh—okay, so if there's anybody here, uh, I'm gonna get out this little, uh, this little device. It's called a spirit-box."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Shane sighs, except that the heart he doesn't have anymore is suddenly up in his throat. "It's not gonna tell you anything. It's baloney."

Ryan takes it out and sets it down gingerly on the table, his breaths coming quick and panicky. "And, if you wanna talk to me, you can use this, okay?"

"What—how?" Shane cries. "How am I supposed to do anything with that hokey box?"

"So I'm gonna . . . turn this on, and you should be able to talk to me, through it. Okay, here we go."

The box squeals, then launches into its randomized chirping. Ryan gulps, his eyes flicking around the room. Shane kicks at the table the box sits on. His foot hits something, but Ryan doesn't react, so it probably wasn't the table-as-it-is he kicked, but the shadow of some past version from ten or twenty years ago.

"Okay, so . . . if there's anybody here with me, my name's Ryan. Can you say my name back to me?"

"Of course I can't, the stupid box doesn't do anything."

Ryan stands in silence, listening, listening. A squawk of static comes out of the box.

"What was that?" he says. "Can you say that again?"

"I said your stupid box doesn't do anything."

Choppy white noise, blips of music and talk shows and nothing.

"If there's somebody here with me, can you make a noise?" Ryan asks.

"No! I can't! Because I'm a ghost, you idiot!"

Ost oop it, goes the box. Ryan stiffens.

"What was that? Did you say something?"

"I did, but I didn't say it through your stupid box, which is fuckin' useless!"

Useless.

Ryan pales. His eyes go wide. His breath comes short. "Ohhhh man, okay. Okay. I'm freakin' out a little now. You—Eustice? Is that—is that your name? Eustice?"

Shane's too blind-sided to call him an idiot again. He seizes the spirit box and shakes it. It's like trying to shift a boulder. His voice cracks as he shouts.

"No! No, it's Shane, it's Shane Madej, tell him, tell him it's me!"

Eh ih-ih ee.

"I don't know what that was, I—I'm sorry. Could you repeat that, Eustice?"

"Shane! It's Shane! Ryan, come on, man!"

Chk chk chk chk shh sht cht chk.

"Okay, fuck this, I'm done," says Ryan, reaching for the box. "That's all, bye Eustice, we're done!"

In absolute, idiotic desperation, Shane screams, "Spaghetti!"

Spa-ghet-ti.

Ryan freezes.

"What did you just say?" he whispers.

"Spaghetti! Apple tater!"

Ap-ah t-t-r.

He's shaking so hard his hand blurs over the spirit-box. His breath mists in front of his face. There are tears in his eyes.

"Did you just say . . . apple tater?"

"Yes! I did, yes! Ryan, it's me! Come on, you stupid box, tell him it's me!"

Stih-up-p-p box.

All the blood drains from Ryan's face. He stops breathing. When he blinks, the tears slip out. When he speaks, it barely makes a sound, but Shane feels it, feels it like a punch to the chest, like a struck bell.

Shane?

The only thing he can do is shout, whoop at the top of his lungs and jump in the air. The spirit-box lets out an ungodly wail, and in an instant, Ryan slaps it off the table, screaming.

It smashes on the floor. The room goes silent.

"No," Ryan says, choked up. "Nope, no no no, fuck this, fuck it, I'm out, I'm done! Fuck everything about this!"

He beelines for the door, his knees wobbling. He's just a hair shy of a full-on sprint.

"Where are you going?" Shane demands, hurrying after him. "Hey, no, don't leave! You—you fraidy cat! Ryan! Ryan!"

But he's out of there, back to the noise and bright lights of the camera crew, where the world becomes less real, where Shane's head gets fuzzy and his focus scatters. He retreats back to the shadows, a sudden exhaustion overtaking him.

"Okay," he says to himself. "It's okay. First try's always gonna be . . . messy. And Ryan's an idiot, so—yeah. So yeah. Just gotta keep—keep on keepin' on, Shane. Chin up, buddy. We'll get there."

So of course, because the universe is a poet and a bastard, Ryan does the one thing Shane could never have predicted.

He gives up ghost-hunting.

Quits his job at BuzzFeed, in fact, and moves up north to the Klamaths, and lands a nice little job teaching film and creative writing at a community college. His girlfriend—now wife, apparently—doesn't comment on the fact that they have a night-light in the bedroom. They've probably already talked about it. Shane doesn't like it, the smug little bluebird shitfish, but he leaves it be. Some things are sacred, inviolable.

Anyway, he's got time.

Ryan's daughter first sees him when she turns three.

"Daddy Daddy!" she cries, barreling into his room at ass o'clock in the morning. "Daddy, there's a tall man in my room!"

"What?" he mumbles.

"A tall man, I saw him!"

Ryan comes to check. He turns the lights on. He looks right through Shane a dozen times as he searches the closet and under the bed and behind the lamp and everywhere.

"There's nobody here, sweetie," he says. "Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," she says.

He kisses her head and clicks the light back out. Shane follows him through the door, because—well, it's kind of weird, hanging out in a three-year-old's room. He was just a little spellbound at first, because it was Ryan's kid, and that's a bizarre thought even when he's looking right at it. But staying would be weird, so he doesn't stay.

But he does come back.

It's not like he's haunting Ryan, no, that's not what it's about. He mostly keeps to himself and doesn't bother anyone, but the kid is weirdly good at spotting him, and there's something about being seen that makes him feel . . . good? Important? Less dead and miserable and alone?

Daddy Daddy, the tall man came back. Daddy Daddy, I saw him by my closet. Daddy Daddy, he came to my tea party. Daddy Daddy, he moved my book!

Which, yes, he did, as ludicrous as it was. For lack of anything better to do with his time. If he focuses as hard as he can and pushes with all his might, sometimes, just a little bit, he can move things. Like a child's book, or a doll's hand, or maybe a door if the hinges are well-oiled. He tries not to do it when anybody's home, but he can't always tell. The kid's too good at seeing him, too, but at least she isn't scared. He tries to make sure she knows he's not there to hurt anybody, and although he's pretty sure she can't hear him, she seems to have gotten the message.

Ryan, maybe, didn't.

He gets more jittery. Lights stay on. There's a marked increase in the amount of religious iconography and (likely) holy water. He spends a lot of time on the computer, drinks a lot of coffee, falls behind on his teaching stuff.

One night, the wife and kid go out, and Ryan stays in. This is weird. Shane sticks around.

Ryan goes up to the kid's room, and he settles into the reading chair by her bed, and he turns out all the lights. The blue glow of his phone illuminates his face. He sits still for a long time, just breathing.

"Shane," he says. His voice shakes. "If you're here right now, could you give me a sign?"

The old desperation seizes him. He slaps the window blinds as hard as he can. They manage a faint, whispering sway. Ryan stiffens, takes a deep breath, lets it out again.

"Okay," he says. "Okay. I—I made this for you. I thought maybe it would help, if you're . . . if you're struggling to move on. I hope it helps you, or . . . something. So here it goes."

Another deep breath. Shane waits, pulled taut with anticipation. Ryan adjusts his glasses and looks down at the phone, and he starts to read.

The alien planet of Tomat-0. A rustbucket of an old spaceship sits on a landing pad, engines primed, ready to launch. A pair of plupples, which are alien fruits that are like plums, but cooler, and blue, carry a charismatic box of fries from the future and a sturdy can of good soup up the loading ramp.

"Plup, plup!" says one of the plupples.

"Plup, plup," the other agrees. Plupples are very stupid. However, unfortunately for our heroes, they are not so stupid that they cannot carry out orders from their dark master.

Shane can't believe his ears. He wanders across the room. Even if he had lungs, he wouldn't be able to breathe. He sits down on the bed near Ryan, pulls up his knees and wraps his arms around them. Ryan reads on.

"Wait just one plupping minute, there!" A voice rings out! The plupples halt. There, coming over the horizon of Tomat-0, a witch-hologram of corn riding upon a giant plupple comes charging to the rescue.

"Plup, plup!"

"Plup, plup, plup!"

The hologram corn, Maizey, arrives. "You put those critically-acclaimed and universally-beloved characters down, you Ewok ripoffs!"

"PLUP," the giant plupple plups in agreement.

"Whoah, hey, uh, whoah!" Garce, one of two intelligent plupples, emerges from the ship. "Hey, uh, wow, corn girl, how did you, uh, escape your deadly trial by combat, which you were sentenced to by the great Dr. Goondis, played by Ryan Steven Bergara?"

"I fought the beast and I won, as you can see, because I am riding it into battle with you little blue freaks. Also I ate Dr. Goondis, because we didn't have the time to cut up more VO files for him, so now he's dead."

"That makes perfect narrative sense, uh, but how did you find us?"

A flash of light, a creaky, cackling voice.

"Pam, Pam, kazam, it was me!" A tiny hotdog, about forty percent bigger than Jiminy Cricket, appears in a flash of witch-light on Maizey's corn shoulder. "I'm doing my part to atone for the evil I did before I died, even though it was totally sick and awesome!"

"That's understandable. But uh, what are you both going to do now?"

Maizey draws herself up tall, tall and proud atop the giant plupple. "We're going to take our friends back from you blue goons. We're going to travel back in time and save my witch-hologram wife, stop Pam from killing the hotdog family, the unbelievably rich and compelling characters of Dan, Rebecca, and Brandon, and creating the Gauntlet of Ultimate Power, or G.U.P.—"

"Gup! Gup! Gup!" plup the plupples.

Shane laughs. He puts a hand over his mouth, like Ryan's going to hear him or something, come over bashful and stop reading. Ryan doesn't hear him, though. He keeps going.

And that, dear listeners, esteemed fans of the Hotdaga, that is what they do. Together, Maizey and Pam, along with the un-drugged Gene and Mike Soup, they rout the plupples. They fix the Minestrone, that marvelous spacecraft, and equip it with the Bernoulli Converter to reach the wormhole in the Graxilon quadrant. Dear fans, they travel back in time, and stop the evil Pam from dumping that delicious party of wedding guests into the lava. By having Pam from the future eat herself. It's totally wicked awesome.

Maizey reunites with her witch-hologram french-fry wife, Gebra. Gene gets the Risky Fixin's band back together, for one last smash hit before the happily ever after you've all been waiting for. And here, my dear friends, here it is.

Music plays. It's stupid. It's the stupidest thing Shane has ever heard, and the production value is shit, and Ryan can't sing worth a damn, either.

For the next two minutes and eighteen seconds, he cries like a baby.

"And that's . . . it," says Ryan. He's crying too. "That's the thrilling conclusion to the Hot Dog Saga, or Hotdaga. It's . . . solved. I hope you—I hope you liked it."

"You nailed it, man," Shane says, choked up. "You got it. You nailed it. Shit, Ryan. Thank you."

Ryan sniffles. He wipes his face. He puts his phone down and sits in the dark.

"I don't wanna sound rude or anything, Shane, but . . . now could you please, please leave my family alone? Like, I miss you, but I just—I can't. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry, man. I'm so fuckin' sorry for what happened."

"What? No, no no no, what are you talking about? Ryan, it wasn't your fault, Jesus!"

Ryan scrubs at his face, puts his head in his hands.

"Just please . . . please let me—just let me move on, too. I can't do this anymore."

"I—yeah," says Shane, shaken right down to his core, in so much pain he can barely hold himself together. "Yeah. Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't even think about . . . yeah. I'll go. I'll go."

He almost puts a hand on Ryan's shoulder, then thinks better of it. He walks out the door.

He doesn't look back.

About four months before Ryan's eightieth birthday, the Universe catches up with him.

Shane isn't sure how he knows, but he knows. He makes his way back to Crescent City, finds the hospital, the bed. It's bad. It's been bad for a long time.

It's not going to get better.

His daughter is with him that night, when the lights are dim and Shane doesn't have to fight so hard to stay present. She's middle-aged now. It's weird how fast five decades can slip by, when you spend them wandering around doing nothing.

Well, nothing except waiting.

"Sweetie, do you remember the Tall Man?" Ryan asks.

"My imaginary friend?" she asks. "Kinda. Why?"

"I think . . . I see him," says Ryan. "The Tall Man was always nice, wasn't he? He was always nice to you?"

"He was, Daddy. You were the only one who was worried about him."

"Good. Good. Because if he ever wasn't, I'm gonna . . . I'll kick his ass."

She laughs. Shane laughs.

They're stupid last words, but it's okay. He dies in his sleep about three hours later, when his daughter is sleeping, too.

Ryan takes a moment. He looks down at his body. He isn't terribly concerned.

"Huh," he says.

"'Bout sums it up, doesn't it."

Ryan turns, and he sees Shane. Shane waves.

"Hey," he says. "So uh . . . turns out you were right."

You were right.

It rings down through fifty years, reverberating, a struck bell, a punch in the chest.

You were right.

The corner of Ryan's old ghost mouth turns up, and then he smiles a big, wrinkly, toothy smile, and Shane knows, in that moment, that this is what he was waiting for.

"Damn right I was," says Ryan.

"So you uh . . . you got anything you wanna do, before . . . whatever's next?" Shane asks.

"Mm, maybe a couple things. Like, y'know, see all the haunted stuff, if it's actually haunted."

"Yeah, that's cool, that's cool. Pretty much what I did. You uh . . . you mind if I tag along?"

"Mind? No. Wouldn't have it any other way."

"The Ghoul Boys ride again," says Shane, smiling, even as he feels something begin to dissolve within him.

"Hell yeah," says Ryan.

He sticks out a hand, old and weathered. Shane shakes it. Ryan pulls him in and hugs him, so tight it threatens to pop him like a bubble.

"I'm sorry, Shane," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

Shane hugs him back.

"It wasn't your fault," he says. "It's okay."

From one moment to the next, with no choir of angels and no Hellfire—

In a flash of white—

They go onward.

[hannahindie]

Country Roads, Take Me Home: Chapter 7

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, Beth (OC) Word Count: 1,777 Warnings: Language, extreme Beth sass (I love this woman. Is that being full of myself since I made her up? OH well. I love her.), canon violence. A/N: Hey ya’ll! Welcome to Chapter 7 of Country Roads! I’m sorry for the delay in getting a new chapter up; between work, fall/winter challenges, being sick, buying a house, and deaths in the family, it’s been a crazy last three months of the year. This chapter is a little shorter than the rest of them, but I loved it and I hope you do too! We’re quickly coming to the end of this story, and it has truly been a labor of love.

My beautiful writing soulmate @trexrambling beta’d this for me. Thank you, my dear, for not just helping me with wording and grammar, but encouraging me and just being wonderful in general. Thanks, darlin’. :) “I will miss Beth once this series is over.” Me too, girl. Me too.

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

A/N 2: I have taken some liberties with the construction of the basement, how large it is, and if there is an exit to the morgue or not. I don’t think that is actually a thing, but for the purposes of this story...well, I put one there. So if any of you are familiar with the building, disclaimer. lol

A chill went through me, and I shook my head, “No, it’s impossible. I just talked to both of them. Dean was scared of the dolls from the haunted house, and he wandered off and left Beth and I alone…” I trailed off when I realized that, though there were things Dean didn’t like, he never ever screamed like he did earlier…at least, not unless ghost sickness was involved. I looked at Sam with wide eyes, “I wasn’t talking to Beth or Dean…was I?”

Before Sam could answer, a scream sounded through the dark basement. A scream that sounded very much like Beth.

Shit.

Dean woke up slowly and groaned as he shifted his head on the hard surface he was laying on. “What the hell…?” he mumbled to himself as he tried to sit up. Rough rope dug into his arms and around his chest, and he swore again. From his vantage point, all he could see were peeling walls and filthy, cracked windows.

“Beth? Where are you?” Silence greeted him, and he rolled his eyes as he began wiggling against the rope, hoping to loosen enough to slip out of it. “Seriously, you’re going to choose this very moment to be quiet? C’mon, say something so I know where you are.” A moan sounded from the other side of the room, and he breathed a sigh of relief; at least she was alive. ��That’s right, sweetheart, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. Are you tied up, too?” There was a mumbled response and then silence fell again. “Beth?”

“I said, first of all, keep your comments to yourself about how much I talk. Two, yes, I’m tied to a pipe.”

Dean chuckled, “Aww, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just making sure you were alive and well, gotta rile you up somehow.” He grunted as he strained against the rope, which didn’t seem to want to loosen up. “Shit...how tight is that rope? Mine isn’t coming loose.”

“It’s pretty damn tight.” She groaned, and Dean could hear a shuffling sound as she tried to work free of the rope, “What the hell happened? My head feels like I went to one of Billy Johnson’s keggers and drank enough jungle juice to go home with his brother.”

Dean snorted, “I don’t know what the hell that means, Beth.”

“It’s not good, Dean. It’s not good.” The shuffling stopped, and Beth sighed, “This is ridiculous. This is not how I pictured my day going. I mean, I figured after everything I’ve heard about you and Sam, we’d have this solved in a hurry and I’d be halfway to sloshed with at least one Winchester by now. Instead, I’m trussed up tighter than a hog headin’ to the slaughterhouse, and it’s not even the good kind.” She sighed, “That wasn’t really the best turn of phrase though, was it?”  

“No, not really.” A loud crash from behind Dean startled him, and he pulled tighter against the ropes. “What was that? Can you see anything?”

“I can’t see anything, Dean. It’s too dark...ah shit.”

Dean stopped struggling, “What? Ah shit what?”

“We’re in the morgue. ...What are you lying on?”

“I don’t freaking know!” He lifted his head as high as it would go and looked around. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could see what he was lying on, and he had the sudden feeling that it wasn’t going to end well. He was secured to a metal slab that had been pulled out from one of the cold storage units. “Do these cold storage things actually function? Like, do they move or close or...you know, turn on?”

“...I mean, they close, but there isn’t electricity in this part of the building, so you should be fine.”

“Well, that’s good to know-” Dean was interrupted by the metal slab slamming back into the cold storage unit and the door as it shut with a bone rattling clang. “Beth! DAMMIT!” The container was pitch black, but Dean still squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the feeling of its walls closing in on him. “Beth!” Panic was beginning to set in, and all he could think about was when he'd been buried, digging through the dirt as he tried to escape his flimsy, wooden prison. “BETH!”

“I’m okay! I’m almost loose! Hang on, Dean!” He heard a cheer as Beth finally broke free of her restraints and hurried footsteps as she ran to where he was. The door rattled, but stayed shut. “Son of a bitch! It’s stuck. Let me...just, hold on, okay?”

“Like I have much choice,” he mumbled to himself. The hair on his arms stood up, and he groaned. “You need to hurry, I think they’re coming back,” he shouted, grimacing as his voice bounced off the rusted metal.

“Hold your damn horses, Winchester! I will be right there. Good Lord, it’s not like I came prepared to rescue the damsel in distress.”

“Excuse me-”

“Awwe, honey, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m just lookin’ for something heavy...ah ha! This will work!” Dean heard the scrape of metal against concrete and wondered what she was getting ready to do. “Now, I need you to close your eyes, sweet cheeks, and turn your head so I don’t mess up that pretty face of yours. Okay?”

“What are you getting ready to do?”

“Don’t worry about that, just do what I told ya.”

The cold storage unit abruptly shook, the sound of metal on metal grating, and Dean cringed, his eardrums throbbing at the ear splitting vibrations. “Jesus, Beth! What was that?!”

“I’m trying to break this door open! That hurt like a mother-” She was abruptly cut off, and the silence was replaced by a loud crash and a sharp cry.

“Hey! What happened? Are you okay?!” Silence was his only answer, and Dean shivered as the temperature dropped even more. “Shit, shit, shit...Beth!” Just as he was about to shove himself towards the door, it shook again and this time popped open with a creaking groan. Dean looked up to see Beth, blood dripping down the side of her face and her shirt ripped, holding a giant pipe and breathing heavily.

“Asshole didn’t realize this was iron.” She tossed the pipe down and pulled the metal slab out, yanking at the knots and freeing Dean’s hands. He quickly slipped the rope off and jumped down from the gurney, immediately checking the still freely bleeding wound on Beth’s temple.

“He tossed you around pretty good, huh?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded bandana and pressed it against her head.

“You could say that,” she said between clenched teeth, “but I got him right in the ghost nards. Think they can feel that like people do?”

Dean laughed, “I’m not sure, never stopped to think about it.” He dropped his hand and stared at Beth, “Where have you been hiding this whole time, anyway? You’d make a great hunter.”

She shrugged, “Someone’s gotta keep this place in check. You think these are the only ghosts around? Anyway, ya’ll live in some sort of weird, flat hellscape. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Aw, come on, it’s not that bad. We’ve got mountains. Come out to visit us sometime, I’ll show you around.”

“You’ve got hills. But maybe I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I’ve never been out west before. Could be fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun.” Dean took a step closer to her, and Beth put her palm against his chest, stopping him.

“Simmer down, handsome. I fully intend on getting so close to you that Jesus himself would blush, but right now we’ve got bigger issues on our hands.” She bent down and picked up the pipe and smacked it against her other hand. “Now what?”

Dean reached over and grabbed another loose pipe and swung it up onto his shoulder, “We find those brains and send those bastards to Purgatory.”

Our steps echoed in the huge, empty space as we ran across the basement towards the source of the scream. “Since when are they impersonating people?” I yelled, my heart beating in my ears so loudly I could hardly hear myself. “Did you know ghosts could do that?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve not seen it. Not exactly something I was expecting, but why not make this even more difficult?” Sam slid to a stop and flashed his light into the dark, open doorway in front of us. “How could you not tell they weren’t...them?”

I glared at him, then reached over and pinched him hard on the arm. He swore and pulled his arm away, rubbing at the spot I’d just grabbed, “What the hell was that for?!”

“Just making sure it was actually you,” I spat back, looking back to where the beam of light was bouncing around haphazardly. “We have to find those brains, Sam. If we don’t find them, who knows what those two will do to Dean and Beth.”

“And how do you suggest we do that? This basement is huge, Y/N. And we aren’t splitting up, so you better come up with something else.”

I rolled my eyes, and for the first time since I had known him wished I was anywhere but here with Sam. I chewed on my lip as I thought. Where would they store something they needed later safely, something important like specimens, but still be easily accessible?  “Wait...which way is north?”

Sam looked at me, eyebrow raised, “What?”

“Which way is north? Where is the front of the building?”

Sam looked around, then pointed back in the direction we’d just come from, “The north side of the property would be that way. Why?”

“Which means that this door-” I gestured toward the one we were just looking through- “would be going towards the south side of the building, right?”

“Yes…”

“The morgue is behind the asylum, and I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think there’s a back entrance to this basement, or at least a tunnel from the morgue to here so that they could move the bodies discreetly. Would it not stand to reason that maybe the stuff they kept in storage would at least be close to the morgue? What point would there have been in carrying it all the way across the building?”

Sam smiled, and I felt a quick flash of relief. I had never argued with Sam, and right now wasn’t the best time to start.

“Good idea.” Another cry echoed through the basement, followed by a crash and Dean’s muffled voice yelling for Beth. Sam made a move towards the noise, but I stopped him.

“We can’t help them if we get trapped, too. We’ve got to find those brains, Sam. It’s the only way to stop this. They’ll be fine.” Sam frowned, and I squeezed his arm, “I promise, I will not let anything happen to them.”

He sighed, “Yea...okay. Where do you suggest we look?”

I grabbed his flashlight and pointed it into the darkness ahead of us. “I have an idea...but you aren’t going to like it.”

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[incomplete-nano-stash]

Welcome to Technasia Ch 18

              Although it was usually dark and overcast in the Litigian capital city, on this day the sun shone down upon the proceedings. A long procession of soldiers, military equipment in tow, paced down the central drive, displaying all of their glory for the general citizenry assembled.

              That citizenry stood quietly, attentive. The men and women lining the road were for the most part living in abject poverty. Some were better off than others, the tradesmen and shopkeepers had a better life than most of their neighbors, but everyone lived far below their rulers, the Lords and the King. The women of the realm had it worse, not being employable by consequence of their social station within the country. The few who vocalized anything were reduced to meaningless giggling by the devices forcibly strapped to their necks.

              The line of soldiers seemed endless. It stretched through the entire city, and even out into the countryside. Behind the grand procession came an open coach carrying the newly-ascended King, Guent, who waved with aplomb to his new subjects.

              Riding with him in the open coach, Lord Poe crossed his arms. “Isn’t this a bit too ostentatious for the situation? I mean, your father did just die.”

              Guent scoffed at the suggestion. “I think I deserve to live it up a bit. I spent so long waiting to take my place on the throne, I think everyone can spare me some ceremony.”

              Lord Poe sighed. “If you say so.” He turned to the empty seats in the coach, places that should have been occupied by Lords Jair, Qine, and Moethran. Of course, Lord Poe reminded himself, they’re empty because of their own foolish futility. Jair and Qine were dead for getting in the way, much as Moethran was banished for the same reason. He looked up to Guent, to the man who would be King.

              “So, Your Majesty, have you any ideas as to who you will be inviting to join the Council?”

              Guent continued waving. “I have, and I’ve decided that I don’t need the Council to be the same as my father had it. I need Lords from different industries, who aren’t nearly as consequential as the others were.” He shot a stern look at Lord Poe. “Would you not agree, Lord Poe, that we can run this country virtually by ourselves?”

              Lord Poe cleared his throat. “Well, there are certain limits to our knowledge …”

              Guent’s face turned icy. “Don’t bring me down today by telling me I’m limited. I’m the fucking King. I’m limited by no man and no thing in this mortal realm.”

              Lord Poe swallowed hard. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” He turned away from the young King, toward the faces of the people who stood along the parade route. Every single one of them appeared to be at gunpoint, showing feigned enthusiasm. He sighed and placed his chin in his hand; Guent wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. As far as he was concerned, the people loved him, and anyone who didn’t was dead.

              The procession made its way to the Litigian royal palace, to the base of the steps. At the top, the reigning archbishop of the Litigian church stood in full vestments, the crown of office sitting on a pedestal next to him. Attendants opened the door of the coach and bowed deeply as Guent exited, making his way slowly up the steps to the side of the archbishop. Lord Poe followed at a respectable distance, stopping halfway up the steps.

              The archbishop raised his arms to the assembled crowds. “Dearly beloved, my friends, we come here in celebration, to laud and glorify our new King, ordained by God as ruler of our great nation of Litigia. His is an awesome burden, that of maintaining the peace and the sovereignty of all Litigia, of maintaining our place in the world, of keeping Litigia and her people safe from all threats internal and external.”

              The archbishop reached for the crown, but was stopped by Guent’s hand reaching greedily for it. This caught the clergyman by surprise.

              “Your Majesty, it is traditional that the King bow to me to be coronated.” The archbishop sounded almost offended.

              Guent smirked. “Please. I am your King. There is no authority in Litigia higher than mine. I am the most powerful man in the world now.” He raised the crown high above him. “I hereby claim my birthright! I am your King!”

              He slammed the crown down on his own head. Shocked murmurs were heard coursing through the assembled people, even through the applause from those who felt it safer to go along with their King’s wishes. Lord Poe was among this group, applauding as fervently as he would have if the coronation had gone normally.

                Firnian and Thaylen were only awakened in the coach by the rays of the first sunlight of morning shining down into their eyes. Firnian yawned loudly, rubbing her eyes awake. “Jesus, shit, what …?”

              Princess Ramia smirked. She had dark circles around her eyes, showing her restlessness, but was as sharp as ever. “Good morning. Your king is dead.”

              Thaylen was immediately upright. He took Princess Ramia’s hand slate from her, reading the missive. His eyes started glistening, as he turned to Firnian. “She’s right. Father’s dead, Guent is the King now.”

              Firnian scowled at the missive. “Fucking psychopath is going to get everyone killed, Litigian and Technasian alike.”

              Princess Ramia took her hand slate back. “Unfortunately, that’s the reality we’re working with now. That makes our job even more important, we need to get to the bottom of this.”

              Tuck suddenly lifted her head up, almost like she had heard something instinctively. She looked out the window. “There’s someone out there.”

              “What?” Princess Ramia responded. “We haven’t seen anyone around all night.”

              “I just heard …”

              A yelp outside the coach drew the occupants to the window. One of the group’s escort soldiers had been shot off of his horse, a spear sticking out through his chest. Tuck’s ears twitched as she heard another shot. “Get down!”

              All four occupants crouched below the windows as four spears went flying through the glass, creating sparkling shrapnel all around the occupants. Princess Ramia readied her crossbow, but Tuck held her back.

              “What? I gotta fight back!”

              “But where are you going to shoot? We’re in a dense forest, you won’t have an open shot on anyone if you stand up, you’ll just make yourself a target.”

              Tuck’s admonishment made Princess Ramia rethink her plan. “Then what do we do?”               “I might have a suggestion,” Firnian offered, reaching into a traveling bag she had brought with her. She extracted a small round, black item, looking like a polished pebble. She scraped it against her teeth and tossed it out of the broken coach window. This was followed shortly afterward by an explosion and a yelp, as another spear flew harmlessly past. Tuck took the opportunity, stretching her metal arm and aiming out the window, firing off her forearm to catch the spear and bring it back inside.

              Princess Ramia had a bemused expression on her face. “Nice. How’d you sneak that past my security cordons at the border?”

              Firnian handed another one of the explosives to Princess Ramia. “Most people think these are oversized black pearls, so I don’t correct them. It’s really simple to smuggle stuff like this.”

              Princess Ramia made a mental note to warn her border guards about these hidden weapons when she returned to the Central Palace, then returned to the task at hand. She stood up quickly to look for a target, crossbow at the ready. Sixteen angry assassins greeted her, weapons at the ready, all flanking the railings of the coach.

              Tuck stood up with her. “Ramia, drop your weapon.”               “They’re going to attack, Tuck, I have to defend myself.”

              “Dammit, drop your weapon or we’re all dead!” Tuck’s voice was insistent. She looked down at the other occupants, motioning for them to stand up with her. She placed her hands behind her head. “I won’t attack, I won’t hurt you. We’ve been looking for you.”               The group of assassins mutely looked between each other. All of them had their lips similarly sewn shut, like the assassin captured in Technasia, and as such none of them could speak. They all stepped down from the rails of the coach.

              Princess Ramia looked pale, but turned to Tuck. “You just seriously stuck your head in a hornet’s nest here, girl. What would have happened if they’d killed us all?”

              Tuck shrugged. “I figured they might be more cooperative if we weren’t an immediate threat.” She sighed deeply. “I suppose that’s one lesson I took from Princess Giana.”

              Princess Ramia nodded, lowering her face. “Me too. I should’ve listened to her more closely.” She holstered her crossbow.

              “I’m sorry,” a voice called out to the group, “did you say ‘Princess Giana?’”

              Immediately Tuck, Firnian, and Thaylen were looking around for the source of the voice. Princess Ramia raised her voice. “We did. What about her?”

              A rustling sound came from the shadows. “We know her. We’ve worked with her.”

              Tuck motioned for everyone to put on their surgical masks. Firnian and Thaylen complied, as Tuck slipped hers on. Princess Ramia was too focused on the conversation though. “Were you a patient of hers?”

              “Of a sort.” The source of the rustling emerged from the depths of the forest, and a diseased man limped into the sunlight. Much of his flesh was replaced with torn scarring, to the point that there was an actual hole bored through one of his shoulders, between his ribcage and collarbone. He coughed. “She was treating our village, about a mile to the north. If you follow us, we can take you there.”

              Princess Ramia raised an eyebrow. “Why would you help us?”

              The man smiled, and the group could see he only had about six teeth left in his mouth. “Why because she helped us first. Come, rest and resupply with us. We won’t bite.” He motioned for the driver to follow the group on another path through the forest.

              The driver looked back at Princess Ramia and Tuck. “Your Highnesses? Should we?”

              Tuck shrugged. “Sure. They might help us get to the assassins. I mean it appears they’ve got their own, they might have an inside track to them.”

              The driver nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He urged the horse to follow their mysterious benefactor.

[flowerfan2]

Close to You - Ch. 8/11

Stucky, M, 28k so far, A03

“How do you get me so well?” Steve asks, a note of awe in his voice. “You get me better than I do.  It’s uncanny.”

“Would you kick me if I said it’s ‘cause you’re my mission?”

Chapter 8

Bucky watches Steve closely over the next few days.  All right, he knows he watches Steve all the time, but now he’s watching for something different.  And he starts to see it.  A certain hesitation.  A quickly hidden look of longing.  A quick turn away, a flash of disappointment.

One evening after dinner Steve is at the sink, rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. They tend to trade off clean-up duties, neither one of them enjoying it very much, and both keeping careful track of whose turn it isn’t.

Bucky comes up next to Steve and puts his hand on the small of his back, leans his head on his shoulder just for a moment.  “Want to watch a movie when you’re done?”

Steve turns to him, soapy hands still under the running water.  Bucky leaves his hand where it is, and Steve smiles.  “Sure.”

When they go to take their places on the couch, Bucky makes himself comfortable first, and then holds out a hand for Steve.  Prisha told him, weeks ago, that always having to be the one to initiate things was a lot of pressure for Steve, and Steve practically shouted it at him when they talked out on the deck.  If Steve is looking at Bucky, and longing, but can’t push himself to reach out – well, then, it’s Bucky’s turn to put himself on the line.

Steve takes Bucky’s hand and lets Bucky arrange them together, Steve lying down on his side with his head on Bucky’s chest, Bucky stretched out between Steve and the back of the couch.

“You sure this is okay?” Steve asks, and Bucky wraps his arm around Steve to hold him in place.

“It’s okay with me. Okay with you?”

Steve laughs a little, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s wrist.  “Yeah.  Yeah, it’s okay with me.”

Neither one of them pay much attention to the movie.

 That night, in bed, Bucky thinks there’s something different in Steve’s good night kiss.  When Steve pulls back, he keeps his hand on Bucky’s cheek, and rubs his thumb across his stubbly skin.

 “How do you get me so well?” Steve asks, a note of awe in his voice. “You get me better than I do. It’s uncanny.”

 “Would you kick me if I said it’s ‘cause you’re my mission?”

 Steve freezes, and then laughs, a bold belly laugh that shakes the bed.  “Holy shit, Buck, way to ruin a tender moment.”

 “No, really.”  Bucky pushes himself up on an elbow.  “I didn’t mean to joke – okay, maybe I meant to joke. But…”  He leans a hand on Steve’s chest, and drops a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re the most important thing in my life.  I love you. Least I can do is pay attention when you tell me something.”

 *****

 Things are good between them, and getting better.  Steve hardly ever flinches when Bucky brushes up against him, and Bucky feels less awkward about initiating touches.  The fact that they haven’t progressed any further sexually since the day with the canoe is a niggling concern in the back of Bucky’s mind, but it stays there, not doing much to interfere with their day to day life.

 It’s clear, however, that Steve is starting to get a bit of cabin fever.  While it might seem ungracious to be tired of living in the lap of luxury in a lakeside paradise, and Steve hasn’t come out and said anything, he’s clearly grown bored with sleeping and reading and watching television all day long, even with workouts and hikes tossed in for variety.  

 Bucky supposes he shouldn’t be surprised – Steve is used to a pretty high adrenaline lifestyle.  But watching Steve pace around the house is starting to get on his nerves.  

 Bucky suggests an outing, and they argue for a while over whether to take out the speedboat.  Steve is convinced that it will trigger Bucky’s PTSD, which Bucky adamantly denies.   When Steve finally relents, Bucky insists that they read through the instruction manual first.  Steve thinks this is a waste of time.

 “You’re not James Bond,” Bucky gripes.  “You can’t just jump in and drive the thing.  At least give me a few minutes to look this over.”

 Steve stomps out to the boat and Bucky watches from the deck as he unsnaps the cover and climbs on board. He can practically see the steam coming out of Steve’s ears.

 Ten minutes later, while Bucky is reading the section on right-of-way and how to understand channel markers, Steve climbs back up the stairs.  The speedboat is still at the dock, covered back up.

 Bucky looks up at him. “Problem?”

 “No gas.”  Steve goes inside the house.  

 That afternoon they make a big pot of mac and cheese, and finish all the beer.  Lakehouse Jarvis doesn’t comment when they place an order for six more gallons of ice cream.  It wouldn’t do to run out next time there’s an emergency.

 *****

 When Clint suggests he and some of the others come visit, Steve jumps at the idea, and then shoots a guilty look at Bucky when he hangs up the phone.  

 “It’s all right, Steve,” Bucky says, grinning.  “I’m not afraid you’re gonna run off with Clint.”

 Steve bites his lip. “You’re not mad?”

 “’Course I’m not mad. They’re my friends too.”

 This was apparently the right thing to say, as Steve beams at him and leaps over the back of the couch to smack a kiss on Bucky’s lips.  

 The next morning two packages are delivered from Tony, one for Steve and one for Bucky.  Bucky opens his to find a pair of black leather cowboy boots, a black Stetson, and a Western style shirt in – you guessed it – black.

 Steve’s box contains the same items, but his boots and hat are tan, and his shirt is red with blue piping.

 Bucky tries on the hat, and grins when he sees Steve doing the same.  “Any idea what prompted this?”

 Steve looks up to answer, then gets distracted when Bucky tilts the brim of his hat at him and flutters his eyelashes.  “Um, for the visit.”

 “Clint’s visit?”

 “Yeah.  We’re going horseback riding.”

 Bucky frowns.  “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

 Steve picks up one of his boots, admiring the design.  “Nah. Can’t be that hard, can it?”

 “Are you serious?”

 Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky.  “You chicken?”

 “Didn’t say that. Just maybe would have liked a heads up.”

 “Well, they’re not coming until tomorrow.  So you have plenty of time to get used to the idea.”

 Turns out twenty-four hours of anticipation does nothing except get Bucky more concerned about horseback riding, but his worries dissipate when Clint, Sam and Wanda arrive. Clint explains that he has “hand-selected” only the Avengers who know how to ride, so that they can personally supervise Steve and Bucky’s lesson.

 “So why are there three of you, and only two of us?”  Bucky asks Sam as they climb into the helicopter.  Sam is wearing relatively normal looking clothes, with a well-worn pair of boots, and the same goes for Wanda, who’s got a plaid flannel shirt tied over a white t-shirt.  Clint, however, seems to have received a goody bag from Tony as well – he’s got a purple shirt and a black hat, both with shiny gold trim.

 Sam grins.  “Me and Wanda to teach you guys, and Clint to do tricks.”

 “Tricks?”

 “Yup.  He used to be in the circus, you know.”

 Bucky looks around, sure Sam is pulling his chain.  “Really?”

 Sam shakes his head. “I kid you not, my friend.  Just wait, you’ll see soon enough.”

 They fly in the helicopter to a clearing near an old barn, where three rather large horses wait placidly in a fenced in area.  Clint proceeds to tell them about how to put on the saddle and all the other stuff, but Bucky quickly stops paying attention to the lesson.

 “Stop checking out Cap,” Sam hisses.  “I know that’s a good look on him, but you’re missing the most important part.”

 Bucky feels his face heat. It is a good look on Steve – the heels on the cowboy boots doing great things to his ass, the dark red shirt tucked neatly into his slim jeans, the Stetson cocked over his handsome face. “Sorry.”  He swallows hard.  “You were saying -  the most important part is…?”

 “How to stop the horse.”

 Eventually Clint’s tedious lecture is over, and Steve and Bucky mount their horses, Sam coaching Bucky while Wanda works with Steve.  Bucky’s horse is named Romeo, and he’s black with a white blaze on his forehead.  He seems nice enough, standing quietly while Bucky mounts, blinking his large brown eyes.

 Steve is riding a larger horse, a white giant who tosses his mane proudly.  Steve looks triumphant when he gets the horse to walk, and then trot. “Snowball likes me,” Steve says, smiling over at Bucky.

 “Of course he does,” Sam says.  

 “Next thing you know he’ll be begging to join the Avengers,” Bucky jokes.

 “He’d make a great Avenger,” Steve says defensively.

 “Gotta change his name, though,” Bucky comments.  “Call him Freedom, or Justice.”  This gets a laugh from Wanda and Sam, who toss around other possibilities until Clint makes them settle down and pay attention again.

 Finally Clint is satisfied that Steve and Bucky have the basics down, and he opens the fence to let them out.  He’s riding a horse that looks to Bucky like it is considerably more agile than the ones he and Steve are on, a dark brown horse with a black mane.  Wanda’s horse is similar, although hers has a white star on its forehead.  Sam’s is almost reddish brown, and seems kind of stubborn, although after Sam leans down and whispers something in its ear it gets with the program.

 They take it easy at first, Clint in the lead, Wanda and Steve next, and then Sam and Bucky behind them. The path is beautiful, taking them through lightly wooded areas and then across an open space where Steve and Bucky are encouraged to let their horses move more quickly.  When they stop to take a break, Clint does indeed show off some fancy riding, even taking out his bow and doing some target shooting from horseback.

 Clint lets them go at their own speed on the way back to the barn, although Wanda and Sam each stick fairly close to Steve and Bucky.  Bucky isn’t as interested in letting his horse gallop away as Steve seems to be, and after a little while of moving fast and getting repeatedly slapped by tree branches he slows down to a more reasonable speed.  

 Sam circles back to join him.  His attempt at small talk is kind of funny (“so, watch any good movies lately?”) but Bucky forgives him when he realizes Sam is much more fluent in Game of Thrones than Steve, and they spend a good half hour analyzing the fine points of Westeros politics.

 When they get back to the paddock, Steve and Wanda have already tended to their horses, and are sitting side by side on the fence, deep in conversation.  Bucky gets a flash of a memory, Steve talking with one of his sisters, and it brings a smile to his face.

 Despite the excitement of the day, Bucky is glad to get back to their house.  Sam insists on starting up the grill, and Clint breaks out some fancy beer he brought with him.  Steve heads up the stairs, presumably to freshen up, although Bucky could swear Steve winks as he walks away.

 Curious, Bucky follows him, shaking his head at the sight of Steve’s ass practically at eye level in front of him as they go up the stairs.  When he gets to their room, Steve tosses his hat on the bed and unbuttons his shirt.  He turns towards Bucky, casually shrugging off his shirt and rolling his shoulders, making all the muscles in his back ripple.  Bucky feels a wave of lust run through him, and clenches his hands tightly.  

 “Buck?”  Steve smirks at him, tilting his head to one side.  “You okay?”

 Bucky nearly groans.  He tries to avert his eyes, but he just winds up looking down Steve’s body, and if he’s not mistaken, Steve’s as aroused as he is. This does not help the situation.

 Steve steps closer to him, and Bucky feels his breath speed up.  “No, really.  Tell me,” Steve says in a low voice.  “Something wrong?”

 Bucky takes a deep breath. He’s not sure why Steve is teasing him like this, but he’s powerless to lie.  “Nothing’s wrong.  Just want to rip your damn clothes off, that’s all.”

 “Hm, that’s not so bad.” Steve leans in and drags his lips over Bucky’s stubble, finally brushing a soft, breathy kiss against his neck. He’s sweaty and warm and it’s fantastic.

 Alll the blood in Bucky’s body is rushing south, and he feels like he might swoon.  “Steve, come on,” he stutters out.

 “Okay,” Steve mumbles, and pulls Bucky flush against him, one hand on the small of his back, the other around his shoulders.  Bucky freezes, although it takes every ounce of his willpower not to press into Steve, where Steve is so clearly hard and wanting.  It’s thrilling to know how turned on Steve is, but it doesn’t solve their current problem – which is illustrated quite clearly when Steve shudders and steps back.

 He’s still got his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and he’s breathing heavily, eyes averted.  Bucky twists to look at him, but Steve won’t meet his gaze.

 “It’s okay, Steve.  We don’t have to.  It’s fine.”

 Steve takes a few deep breaths, then raises his head to look Bucky in the eye.  “What if we can?”

 Bucky forces himself to speak gently, through the fog of desire that’s threatening his reason. “I’d like that.  I really would.  But there’s no rush.”  He places his flesh hand on Steve’s shoulder in what is hopefully a comforting gesture.

 “No, Bucky, that’s not what I mean.”  Bucky feels Steve square his shoulders under his hands, and Bucky almost smiles at Steve’s tells.  Steve’s about to say something important.  A declaration of love, most likely.   But what comes next is a total surprise.

 “Wanda has an idea. She thinks she can help.”

 “Wanda?  How?”  What does Steve’s little-sister stand in have to do with it?

 “She can go into my mind, change the emotions there.”

 “No.”  Bucky’s answer is immediate, as he feels a cold rush shoot down his spine.  He may never have lost an erection so quickly.  “No, Steve, absolutely not-“

 Steve steps back, dismayed. “No, I said it wrong, wait…”  

 “You want to let her mess with your head?  Are you actually serious?”  Bucky feels his voice rising, and he thinks he might need to hit something.  The posts on the ridiculously large bed look like easy targets.

 Steve sits down on the bed and grabs Bucky’s hand, pulling him down with him.  “Bucky.  Calm down and listen to me, okay?  Trust me here for a second.”

 Bucky grits his teeth and tries to breathe, not saying anything.  It’s probably safer that way.  For the furniture, at least.

 “Wanda asked me a lot about when we were together, before – before you fell.”  Steve’s face is so open when he says this, so beautifully sad, Bucky can’t help but quiet down and listen.  “And I told her, a little bit.  How easy it was between us.”  Steve’s voice breaks.  “How right.”

 Bucky wishes he could remember more, at least, to share this with Steve.  “We’re good now, Steve.  It’s okay.”

 Steve shakes his head. “No.  It’s not okay.  But…” he pauses, rubbing his free hand on his jeans.  “Wanda said she thought that the hard times I’ve had since then – the ice and, you know, being frozen for seventy years – have messed up my ability to retrieve those memories in the same way.  That the trauma has gotten mixed up in places it doesn’t belong. Kind of like what Prisha says, but… I guess Wanda is pretty familiar with memories.”

 Bucky suddenly remembers something Clint told him, about Tony and one of his AI creations that led to disaster.  “Wanda can show false memories, though, right?  She’s even done it to you.”

 Steve nods calmly. “She has.  But that’s not what she’s going to do.  She’s been learning from someone from Asgard that Thor introduced her to.  She really thinks this will work.”

 Bucky sighs.  When Steve decides to trust someone, there’s no arguing with him.  “I still don’t understand how she can help.  How is messing with your memories going to change how you feel when you touch me?”

 “When we’re intimate now, I can’t help but remember being together then, but it’s all been colored by all the bad shit in between.”  Steve looks indescribably sad as he says this, but his face brightens as he continues. He clearly has bought into whatever Wanda is selling.  “Wanda’s going to help me feel what I felt then.  She’s not going to change my memories, just help me remember them the way they were originally.”

 “How’s she going to do this, exactly?”

 Steve shrugs.  “I don’t know the details.  But she did say that if you were there too, it would probably help.”

 Great.  Peachy.  Bucky focuses on his breathing, which has just sped back up again.  “Am I being too obvious if I ask whether there’s a chair involved?”

 Steve looks stricken. “Holy crap, Bucky, no.  What kind of an asshole do you think I am?”  He stands up and paces, arms swinging. “Wanda would never – it’s not like that. It’s not.  It won’t hurt, she’s not evil, she’s not gonna erase anything-”

 “That’s not what you said a minute ago.”

 Steve starts to protest, and then stops, his mouth closing abruptly.  Then he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of Bucky, and puts his hands on Bucky’s thighs.  “I swear to you, this isn’t going to hurt either of us.  I would never put you in danger, Buck.  Never.”  Steve almost looks scared as he goes on.  “You believe me, right?  You don’t think I’d ask you to – not for anything - I love you, Buck.  I love you.”

 Bucky slides down off the bed and pulls Steve to him.  The whole situation seems crazy, literally not the product of a sound mind, but reason pales next to the well-being of the man in his arms.

 “I’m not thrilled about somebody going into your brain, Steve.  I’m really, really not.  But if you trust her, and you think it will help,” he shrugs, “you should do it.”

 Steve looks at him. “You sure?”  

 Not entirely, thinks Bucky. “I think so.  Want to talk to her first, though.”

 “That’s fine.”  Steve huffs out a bashful laugh.  “There is one more thing…”

 “What?”

 “The memories she’s going after… they kind of involve you naked.  With me.”

 Suddenly the humor in the situation nearly bowls Bucky over.  “She’s going to see us fucking.”  Bucky can feel his face warming, but it can’t possibly compare to how red Steve is.  “That little girl is going to see us fucking.”

 “I know.”  Steve buries his head in Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ll never be able to look her in the face again.”

 “At least it’s not Natasha. Or Tony.  Wait, she’s not going to like, record it or anything, right?  Make a sex tape of us for later study?”

 Steve glares at him and then bursts out into laughter.  “Oh my god no, no, she wouldn’t do that.”

 “Maybe you should ask first, double check.  Hey Wanda, you aren’t going to sell our young love for extra cash, are you?”

 Steve laughs harder, wiping his face against Bucky’s sleeve.  Bucky puts his arm around Steve’s shoulder and holds him as they both giggle.  When they’ve finally relaxed, Steve turns to Bucky with a serious look on his face. “I’m gonna do it.  But only if you’re there to protect my dignity.”

 Bucky laughs again, and Steve grins back, anticipating Bucky’s next line.  “What dignity, pal?”

 It’s undeniably awkward when they finally go back downstairs.  Sam, Clint and Wanda have already eaten, but there are a pile of burgers on a plate in the kitchen for them.  Clint is proposing various card games to play, but he insists that Wanda be on his team and this causes an all-out argument about how it isn’t fair since she can read minds.

 Bucky watches her closely during the debate, sees how her face closes up as they all pretend to know what she can do.  As they blithely assume she would cheat, because of the powers she has.  

 He stands up to return his plate to the kitchen and grabs a bag of some cheese powder covered popcorn he usually avoids because of the way it sticks to his metal fingers.  When he comes back to the living area, he plops himself down next to Wanda and holds out the open bag.  “Want some?”

 The debate about what game to play next continues to go on around them, as Wanda gives Bucky a grateful look.

 “Thank you.  These are my favorite.”  Her accent is a little stronger than usual – she’s still upset by the card game conversation, though she hides it well.

 “I know.”

 Wanda wrinkles her forehead. “How?”

 Bucky grins.  “I saw the way you looked at them when Sam unpacked all that crap you guys brought.”

 Doesn’t take a mind reader, he thinks to himself, and he can tell Wanda gets it.  

 They eventually ditch the idea of a card game, and put on a movie instead.  Sam makes hot chocolate, and Bucky stays where he is on the couch, next to Wanda.  He knows he can’t actually judge her character by mere proximity, but it makes him feel a little better to spend a few hours in her presence.

 When he and Steve finally go upstairs, after making sure their guests are comfortably arranged in the guest room and the pull-out sofa in the basement, Steve is quiet.  There’s no quiet undercurrent of pleasant anticipation before their usual good-night kiss/slash/make-out session.

 After a few minutes of silence, each of them wrapped up in the covers but not touching, Bucky reaches out to stroke his hand down Steve’s arm.  “What’re you thinking about?”

 Steve shrugs.  “You know.”

 “The thing with Wanda?”

 “Yeah.”  Steve shuffles closer to Bucky.  “What if it’s a bad idea?  What if you’re right?”

 “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

 Steve’s eyes widen. “You don’t?”

 “No.”  Bucky lets out a long breath.  “It’s scary as shit, but it’s not a bad idea.  Let me talk to her tomorrow morning – maybe we can start small, just give it a try.  See what it feels like.”

 “Really?”

 “Really.”

 Steve smiles, a small, shy thing Bucky can barely see in the dim light.  “Buck?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 Buck laughs, and leans forward to take Steve in his arms.  “Sure can, pal.”