#went to a bakery nearby and fell in the middle of the street while crossing it

[nauticalfools]

.

[raibebe]

Invoke

Genre: Mystery? Thriller? Slightly gore? With some fluff? And eventual smut? Words: 13.315 Prompt: Warlock Yuta, familiar Ten, female reader Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of religion, blasphemy (our warlock doesn’t like the church and made a deal with the devil), blood, devil summoning, murder with magic, actual murder

A/N: This has a couple of darker themes, if you’re sensitive to any of them, please be careful or just sit this fic out and don’t read it. The abuse is only implied and is not happening to any of the main characters. This seriously went out of hand and holy fuck I love warlock Yuta?? Thank you so much for requesting this @def-sol​! Ruby I loved this idea so much, I hope you enjoyed this. The beautiful moodboard is by @min-inu as always, thank you darling! Another big thank you to @burtonized, Jo you’re the real MVP for listening to me whine all day long.

Warlock: A male practitioner of witchcraft. The word comes from the Old English word wǣrloga meaning “oathbreaker” or “deceiver”. The terms were associated with witches and warlocks as they were seen as someone who made a pact with the devil and thus had betrayed the Christian faith and broke their baptismal vows.

It was a rainy autumn afternoon, the clouds had sunken into the valley your hometown was located in and covered everything in a layer of grey fog, washing away every color. You adjusted the hood of your cloak to shield yourself from the moisture after you stepped out of the little bakery you worked at when you heard the hooves of multiple horses on the beat up street that lead to the little town. Knowing that nothing good ever came from those horseman, you quickly hid the loaf of bread in your ratty coat and headed to the town square. A small crowd had already gathered when one of the knights pulled loose what seemed to be a lump rolled into a cloth from his horse that fell to the ground with a low thud. Only when it started to move, you felt the horror creep up your back. A couple of people quickly scrambled to see what was inside the cloth, even though you all already knew it. Beneath the thick linen, a girl’s face was revealed. You hadn’t known her when the knights had taken her with them just a couple of weeks prior but you could feel nothing but sincere pity for the girl. Her face was unnaturally swollen, her skin more the color of violets than her actual skin tone, blood clinging to her features and she was shivering in the arms of one of the women, completely silent. You turned your back towards her, not wanting to see the state the rest of her body must be in. The last girl that had come back from the royal court had only lasted a week before she had died due to the multiple injuries she had. She also hadn’t spoken a single word. But everyone had known what that men of the court must have done to her in the castle that overlooked the little valley, sitting high up on a nearby hill.

The knights just kept sitting in their saddles, completely unfazed. How could a person be this cold? How could they just follow the orders from their sires to keep taking girls away from their families to bring them back broken and beat, unable to continue to live a normal life? And how was no one doing anything against this? Why were the lords of these lands above the law? Why didn’t the priests do anything with all the power they had? The sight made you sick to the stomach and you couldn’t stand to look at the scene even a second longer, walking back to your home, trying to ignore the screams of the girl the knights must have picked out to take with them. You grabbed the cross hanging around your neck tightly and spoke a prayer to protect the girl from the worst.

That night you couldn’t fall asleep, your thoughts twisting and turning inside your head. Your anger towards the royals only grew more and more with each girl they took with them and you were sick of everyone just accepting their fate. The girls lived in fear that they would be the next one taken and the fathers and mothers were desperate to keep their daughters safe, praying every evening inside the small church. But with every day that passed you lost faith in your god. How could a just god let all of this happen? And the people of the town alone couldn’t do anything to stop this abuse. If they would speak up, they wouldn’t even be able to finish their words because their head would be rolling from their shoulders as soon as they opened their mouths.

Sighing, you rolled onto your back, staring at the holes in the ceiling. You refused to accept that you should patiently wait until the knights unfortunately picked you to take you to the castle where the royals would completely break you, shattering your being to the core. There must be a way to stop all of this. To put an end to the injustice that was happening. When the new lord had been initiated, he had sworn with his hand on the Sacred Scriptures that he would protect the people caring for his lands. If this was what him caring looked like, you didn’t even want to know what it would be like if he was turning a blind eye. It really seemed like you and your town needed some supernatural help or otherwise the royals would just keep playing with the lives of their subjects like they meant nothing.

That was when an idea shot into your head, making you sit up in your bed. After the last girl had come back and the healers of your village hadn’t been able to arrest her bleeding and the prayers of the priests hadn’t helped either, her mother had sneaked away to find a man that lived alone in the woods who was rumored to be gifted with certain powers that allowed him to give and take life. Of course the mother had to do it in secret; if the priests ever found out about that man, he would be burned on the town’s square just like the red haired woman who had wanted to travel through the town. Sometimes you could still hear her screams when the flames ate away her flesh. The next night you had seen a figure wearing a dark cloak sneaking into the home of the family. Curious as to what was going to happen you had sneaked over as well, watching the scene through a crack in the back door: The man had sat down on the bed of the girl and took off his hood to reveal long unruly strands of a red brighter than you had ever seen. He had spoken a couple of words in a language unfamiliar to you, keeping his voice level and his gaze down towards the girl. After a while, the girl had begun to shake and thrash only to suddenly stop mid movement before deflating back onto the mattress. The man then had let out a deep sigh before he put the hood of his cloak over his head again. He only said four words to the parents on his way out: “Her struggle is over.” When the parents ran to the body of their daughter, he had picked up a bundle the father had set up on the desk and left without looking back. That night you could hear the mother cry until the sun crawled over the trees of the forest again and the nature came back to life to cover her pain with beautiful symphonies.  

That man had liberated the girl from her injuries and pain by taking her life just from talking to her. He must have some special powers people attributed to witches and warlocks. He must be powerful enough to help you. And if the family of that girl was able to pay him to use his abilities in their favor (even if it hadn’t turned out how they wanted to), he must also have a price for killing the royals. Or at least send them a warning. You had to find this man and at least try to win him over. As far as you were concerned he might be your only chance to put an end to this.

After a rough night of twisting and turning in your scratchy sheets, you got up more determined than ever to find the mysterious warlock. You quickly got dressed in your warmest cloak and left the house you had rented your room in, sneaking past your snoring landlord who smelled like he had spent his night in the tavern yet again, drinking too much and then lusting after the skirts of women that were way too young for him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved when you left the house and could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. Once your lungs were filled with air smelling like a mixture of freshly cut grass and baked bread, you turned to leave the town. You had no idea where exactly you could find the man. But rumors about him had traveled around the town since the day you were born. Coming to think of it, he seemed to have been around for as long as you could think which didn’t match with how young he had seemed to be when you got that glimpse of him a couple of weeks prior. But the priests always preached that those who had broken their vows and abandoned the right path had many different wicked tricks to disguise their true form.

Mindlessly you followed a trail that lead deeper into the woods and away from the fields where the workers were cultivating different plants both for themselves and for the damned royals. If the priests had never bothered to pay the man a visit, he must live in a place they couldn’t reach, up higher the hill where the paths were narrow and steep. So those were the paths you were taking, paying attention to never lose your footing and keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious.

You were about to give up when the underbrush became thicker and thicker, clearly untouched when you heard the jingle of what seemed to be a little bell. Why would there be a bell ringing in the middle of the forest? Cautiously you listened and crept closer to what seemed to be the source of the noise. It wasn’t long until you found the cause: A small black cat was rubbing its head against a branch in what seemed to be an attempt to get the collar off but it was wrapped too tightly around its throat. “Do you need some help, little one?” You softly asked as to not startle the feline. The cat immediately stopped whatever it was trying to do and stared up at you from big, amber eyes. You carefully approached it and kneeled down, slowly extending your hand towards it so it could see that you meant no harm.  After it carefully eyed you up and down, the cat crawled over to first sniff your fingers before it pressed its head into your palm. Giggling you scratched it behind its ears which earned you a loud purr. “Let me get that collar off of you,” you murmured, carefully tipping the cat’s head so you could examine the leather band the bell was fastened onto. With nimble fingers you undid the intricate knot and the cat could slip out of it. Once it was free, it curved its back and hissed loudly at the little object resting in your palm. “You really didn’t like that bell, huh?” You smiled. “Who do you belong to, little one? I’m looking for a man with red hair. I was hoping he could help me with a problem.” Why were you talking to a cat? It wasn’t like it could understand and lead you to the warlock.

Strangely enough the cat crooked its head as if it was listening to your words and thinking about what it should do. “Do you know him and can take me to him?” You asked carefully, eyeing the cat carefully. It meowed loudly before it got up to disappear deeper into the underbrush. You sighed deeply. Of course the cat had neither understood you nor would it be able to help you. Whether you liked it or not, you might had to ask the family who had lost their daughter where you could find the warlock. It was useless to stray through the forest like this, hoping to stumble upon a house or the man himself. You were about to turn around when another rather annoyed sounding meow tore through the sounds of the forest and a pair of amber eyes looked at you from the bush the cat had jumped into. “Are you trying to help me find him?” You disbelievingly asked the cat who actually rolled its eyes at you. When did a normal cat ever roll its eyes? Could cats even roll their eyes? What was happening? Before your thoughts could spiral any further, the cat made its way through the underbrush again, and you scrambled to follow the black creature, not taking chances of losing it between the bushes and trees.

Soon you reached a clearing the cat eagerly crossed, climbing onto a big stone surface in the grass where it curled up in the sun. Further back between a couple of big oak trees sat a small hut that surely had seen better times. “Where have you taken me?” You quietly asked the cat. Of course it didn’t respond, it just lazily turned its head towards the house where a figure clad in black clothes just emerged, their red hair reflecting the light of the sun that was peeking through the trees. “You little shit!” The person called, clearly a male voice, “How did you manage to get it off?” The cat didn’t even react to the screaming, just stretching its lithe body in the sun. “And who are you?” The man asked when he came closer, his green eyes so piercing it made you shiver. “I- Your cat showed me the way,” you stuttered. “That’s not what I asked, woman.” The warlock angrily crossed his arms in front of his chest and arched one of his eyebrows, waiting for an actual answer to his question. Taking a deep breath, you explained your situation to the man: Beginning with the story of how the knights kept kidnapping girls from your town and in which state they brought them back, if they brought them back at all. Then you told him how helpless the people were, how everyone with a daughter lived in constant fear that she would be next. You told him that you had seen him all those nights ago when he took the girl’s life to rid her from her suffering. Through all of it his face remained blank just the cat got up from where it was curled up, walking around its owner’s feet. “I need your help. We all do,” you ended your speech, “I know it’s within your powers to take lives. We need help getting rid of these royals. We can’t keep living like this, they will keep taking girls until there are no more left and I can’t just watch and wait until they take me. Please, we have no means of doing anything against them.”

“No.” “What do you mean no?” You asked the warlock who had scooped up his lithe cat into his arms and turned to walk back into his house. “I’m not doing it. It’s no use to interfere with royals, they never change.” “But you could help the whole town. We are being terrorized, every week the guards come and take another girl with them and they either never come back or they are so traumatized they can’t even speak about whatever has happened to them and we can only tend to their wounds. I am begging you,” you pleaded but the warlock didn’t turn back around, only his cat seemed to listen who had climbed onto his shoulder, looking at you from its big amber eyes. “I’ll do anything. Take me, take my body, I don’t care. I just don’t want them to break me.” “Anything you say?” The man asked, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t want them to have control over my body,” you whispered, “You can’t do anything worse to me than what the royals are doing to those girls.”

After a beat of silence, the cat meowed loudly, jumping down from the man’s shoulder to walk over to you again, cocking its head as if it was evaluating you. “I’m not going to do it,” the warlock repeated but before you could protest, he turned around again, locking his piercing green eyes with yours, “But I am going to teach you so you can do it yourself.” “It’s not going to be nice or easy,” he continued, looking you up and down once, then twice, “Take that thing off, we won’t need it where we are headed.” He motioned to the cross you had dangling around your neck; your only possession of any worth. “It has protected me from evil up until now,” you protested, closing your fist around it. “Woman. What did the priests tell you where me and my brothers and sisters have gotten our powers from?” The warlock asked, his green eyes almost glowing. You had never heard a man saying the word ‘priest’ with so much hatred and disgust. “They say you’ve made a deal with the... With the devil,” you stuttered. “For once that is a piece of truth that those fat men are speaking,” he snarled, “We are not born with these powers, we have to offer Satan a piece of ourselves in exchange for the powers he grants us with and he won’t be pleased to see that symbol of lies and oppression around your neck.”

For a while you stood still in front of the warlock who had come so close to you that you could count every single chain link on the chain that was hanging from the cartilage of his ear. “How badly do you want to make those good-for-nothing-royals to pay for what they have done?” He spoke lowly, lifting his hand to slowly caress your jaw. You took a shaky breath and met his eyes again. “More than anything in my life.” “Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” he rasped before he grabbed your necklace and ripped it straight off, throwing it into the woods. Shaking off the shock, you quickly followed him and his cat into the little house that seemed to burst from its seams: Herbs, candles and different bones hanging from the ceiling and sitting on almost every available surface.

“Just sit on the sofa and don’t distract me,” the warlock said, starting to rummage through drawers. “Are you going to tell me your name?” You carefully asked after you had sat down on the only free space of the sofa, the cat quickly joining you, “In the town they just call you ‘the outcast’ if they speak about you.” The man snorted loudly. “I like that title but you can call me Yuta.” Yuta. You had never heard that name before. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” “I am not. Not that it is any of your business. I am just going to help you to get your revenge on those royals. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You nodded, idly stroking the black cat in your lap who had started purring loudly. You hadn’t expected the warlock to act like he did. You had come here expecting to bribe him with either money or even your body. It hadn’t fully sunken in that Yuta would turn you into a witch by making a deal with the devil. But you had a mission. You couldn’t just watch another girl getting taken by the knights to become a toy for some royal asshole that would throw her away like a broken shield. You really hoped that the whole process wouldn’t take long. The longer you needed to wait with your revenge, the more girls would get taken and never be the same again.

“What’s its name?” You asked curiously after you had been stroking the cat’s fur for a while. “He’s called Ten,” Yuta answered while grabbing different stones and skulls from the drawers of his giant cupboard that was covering the length of a whole wall. “Like the number?” “He’s the tenth child of a tenth child. Don’t underestimate him just because he looks like a cat.” “But what could he do?” You were confused. “A lot more than your mortal brain could imagine,” a smooth voice answered instead of Yuta’s and it took you a second before you realized it had been the cat who had spoken. “Did the cat just speak?” You squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything,” the warlock grinned and left the room to search for more ingredients. “He did just tell you my name, don’t go around calling me ‘the cat’ now,” the voice spoke again. You looked down to the cat that was curled up in your lap to find him looking right back at you with a stare that should have been way too intense for a mere cat. “How do you do that?” You whispered. “Does he know you can talk?” “You think he would survive out here on his own for years on end if he didn’t have me to talk to?” “But he said he doesn’t hear you.” “Because I am talking to you right now and not to him,” Ten stated as if this was the most normal thing in the world while he was cleaning his fur.

“Don’t believe anything he is telling you. Everything he’s telling you about me is made up,” Yuta said when he came back to the room, a dagger in his hands.  “I sincerely hope you aren’t scared of blood because otherwise this is going to be difficult.” You swallowed dryly, looking at the size of that dagger, but slowly shook your head. Yuta’s green eyes fixated on yours for a couple of moments before he nodded, wrapping the dagger in a cloth with multiple questionable stains. “I’m assuming you have saved your virtue?” You felt the heat rise to your face at his question, never had you met such a man who would ask questions like that so directly and unashamed. “I- I have,” you stuttered, feeling the need to cover your burning cheeks. “That saves us a lot of trouble,” Yuta nodded, grabbing some more things that he had scattered around the house.

“We need to walk for a bit, I am not opening a gate to hell in my garden again. The smell is horrible to get rid of,” the warlock called after he had found everything he needed and had rolled it into a cloth for transportation.   “The smell?” “Have you ever been present at a burning of a supposed witch? That’s the smell. But amplified,” Ten provided from his space on the sofa cushions. “Already scared?” Yuta asked with a smirk on his plush lips when he saw your scandalized expression. “No,” you answered, squaring your shoulders, “I’ll do whatever it takes.” “You better,” he grinned and opened the door of his home, leading you into the forest, further up the hill.

Soon you reached a little clearing where the soil seemed oddly burned where Yuta dropped his bundle of supplies. “You do this here often?” You asked curiously, looking around the area. “Opening a gate to hell? No. But sometimes it is fun to mess with demons,” he answered, winking mischievously, making your heart skip a beat. “Demons are a thing?” “Of course they are,” the warlock giggled, wiggling his eyebrows while pulling a smaller sachet from his makeshift bag, “Just stand in the middle of the burned area and don’t move.”

Nodding you followed his orders and watched him paint a perfect circle around you with the white powder from the sachet. After he had finished the circle, he painted lines through it, creating a pentagram. Satisfied with his work he pulled candles and crystals from his bag next, placing them at the edges of the pentagram and lighting the candles with a mere flick of his wrist. Next he grabbed a skull from his bag, placing it at your feet. “Now to the less comfortable part,” Yuta mumbled, pulling the dagger from its wrappings, “Hold out your arms and don’t move whatever happens. Your innocence is what keeps this whole thing from falling apart.” Slowly you held up your arms and he rolled up your sleeves. You prayed that he wouldn’t notice how you were trying to fight the way your arms were shaking but of course it didn’t slip his sharp eyes. “Nervous?” He grinned. “You are about to summon the literal devil, telling me I am what makes or breaks this ritual. Of course I am nervous,” you stammered, balling your hands to control the shaking. “Cute. Nervous about the ritual and not about losing your humanity for a petty revenge,” the warlock laughed. Before you could reply, he had quickly pulled the dagger across his palm without even batting an eye. “Now brace yourself.” He walked along the perimeter of the circle again, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice carrying a different weight than before, like he was speaking with multiple voices at once. When he had completed the circle, he closed off his wound with another flick of his wrist before walking towards you, still chanting the foreign words. Once he stood in front of you, he slowly raised the blade, locking eyes with you once before he dragged it over your exposed arms, making your blood seep from the cut.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the whimper inside that was trying to fight its way past your lips. You were not showing the warlock any more weaknesses than you already had; you could do this. Yuta kept his eyes to where more and more blood was coming to the surface, watching the droplets come together to drip off your arm. As soon as the first droplet hit the ground, the atmosphere around you changed: There were no more birds singing or wind ruffling through the leaves of the trees and it seemed to have gotten darker, almost unnaturally so, the candles supplying the only light on the clearing. A heartbeat later, the flames shot up high into the air, causing you to flinch. You fought your instinct to turn on the spot to run away. You needed to do this. Needed to do this for the sake of your town’s people. “Relax,” Yuta whispered into your ear, slowly turning your arms so the cuts were facing down, making more blood drop, “The devil is a lot nicer than the priests make him out to be.” You took a deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart which turned out to be a mistake: Your lungs were filled with the smell of burning air and sulfur, the smell so overbearing that you felt like you were suffocating. “Even breaths, in the mouth and out the nose,” Yuta whispered when he sensed your panic, gripping your arms tightly from where he was standing behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to even out your breathing while the scent of fire and burnt flesh got stronger with each breath you took. “Yuta, I can’t”, you heaved. “You can and you will,” he replied, voice stern, his nails digging into your skin. You tried to focus on the pain he was inflicting on you, the way the cuts stung and the way the blood was seeping from your flesh. You had no idea how much blood you had lost but your head was getting dizzy and your legs weak. “Don’t quit on me now,” you heard Yuta hiss through the fog that started to cloud your brain, “We’re almost there.” His grip on you tightened significantly when a loud crack resonated in the air not unlike to when a strike of lightning had hit its target. If it was possible, the smell only became more potent and the heat the candles gave off intensified tenfold. When you heard a deep rumbling laugh, Yuta turned your arms back around so the wounds on your forearms were facing upward again.

“My lord,” you heard the warlock speak, addressing whoever he had just summoned with the help of your blood. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, it was all too much: the heat, the smell and the stinging in your arms. If you were to see whatever was happening right in front of you, you were sure your brain would either forget how to breathe or how to keep holding your body up. You were already resting most of your weight on the warlock. “You brought me a new lamb,” a deep voice filled the space around you that seemed to come from every direction at once, covering you like a cloud. “Her cause is a noble one.” The voice chuckled. “Ready to give yourself over to me?” When you didn’t reply, Yuta pinched you again and you managed to squeeze out an affirmation even though your throat felt as if it was made out of sandpaper, your voice sounding gravely and foreign to your ears. “It’s over soon, my little lamb,” the voice rumbled, “I take good care of what is mine.” Whatever who you assumed to be the devil did next, filled your body with excruciating pain. It began from the cut in your arms and it felt like he had filled your veins with liquid fire that burned its way through your every fiber, taking over every thought in your brain. A silent scream left your lips and all you could remember before passing out were a pair of piercing green eyes and the smell of sulfur.

When you regained consciousness it was in the comfort of a soft mattress beneath a thick blanket. You carefully blinked your eyes open a couple of times, trying to get the herbs hanging from the ceiling into focus. Once you could make out the little flowers on the branch of lavender, you let your gaze wander. Opposite of you stood a big mirror in front of what you assumed was a closet made out of mismatched wood with intricate carvings. Yuta must have brought you back to his cabin. Which meant that you were currently laying in his bed. The thought made blood rush to your head and you instinctively hid yourself in the softness of the blanket even though no one was around to see you. Like this his smell invaded your senses. It was earthy yet spicy. Dangerous. You sighed and let the smell comfort you, closing your eyes again.

Your limbs still felt heavy but after checking quickly, the wounds on your arms were gone, not even the smallest scar left. How long had you been unconscious for?  With how tired you still felt, it couldn’t have been for long, but the sun that was shining through the curtains told a different story. Outside you could hear birds chirping and if you focused just enough you could hear a cat meowing, probably Ten. Smiling you let your mind wander, letting the sounds of the animals relax you. But while you were counting your breaths to empty your mind, you couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. With every breath you took, you mind didn’t become more empty, instead you were feeling more and more: First it was just the way the blanket was scratching your bare arms and legs. Then you thought you were able to feel the herbs that were strung up to dry above your head. And somehow you could tell that Ten was no longer meowing in the garden, probably talking to Yuta but that he was walking towards the window of the bedroom.

You quickly opened your eyes and sat up straight in the bed just as his paws met the windowsill. “You’re awake,” his voice filled your head. You could just nod, staring at the cat in disbelief. How had you been able to predict that he was jumping into the room the exact moment that he did? “Feeling different yet?” Ten asked on, smoothly jumping onto the mattress. “Not really but you do,” you confessed. From up close he still looked the same but something was different. He felt bigger? Older? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But what you knew for sure now was that he wasn’t just a talking cat. Yuta had been right, Ten was much more than his body made it seem. “I’m still the same,” he chuckled, neatly folding his tail around his sitting form, “But you certainly are different.” “How can you tell?” “Just take a look at yourself.” Both scared and curious you looked up and met your reflection in the mirror but the eyes that were looking back at you, weren’t your own. Your image in the mirror eyed you with deep emerald green eyes and if the light was not tricking your eyes, your hair had changed color as well. It wasn’t as vibrant as Yuta’s but it was definitely red. “So it is true that witches have red hair,” you mumbled under your breath, raking your hands through your hair to feel the strands. “Most witches have red hair but not all with red hair are witches and warlocks,” Ten confirmed.

Just with Ten before, you had a feeling that Yuta would enter the room before the door moved to reveal his body. “It’s about time you wake up, little witch,” the warlock grumbled. Today he had his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strands of his unruly hair escaping it and curling at his nape. His piercing eyes scanned over your body quickly before he met yours. “Do you feel them yet?” “Feel whom?” “The energies around you,” Yuta replied as if it was a self-explanatory thing. When you kept quiet and just looked at him from big, unknowing eyes, he groaned and ran a hand over his face. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.” “It would probably be easier, if you didn’t speak in riddles,” you mumbled under your breath but he must have caught it anyways. “Don’t give me this attitude or you won’t learn anything at all. I might be responsible for you now but I won’t feed you your lessons with silver spoon, you have to work for it. Starting now. Get dressed and meet me outside,” Yuta clarified and turned to left the room but halted in his steps. “And you won’t help her either, Ten. She needs to do this on her own.” Ten just meowed loudly and for some reason you could tell that he did not agree with how Yuta planned on training you. Were this the energies Yuta was talking about?

Once both the warlock and his companion had left the room, you quickly got dressed and headed outside only to find out that you were alone on the clearing. “Come on, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, looking around the house, “I didn’t come here to almost bleed out in a stupid ritual and then to be mocked.” But no one answered you. Yuta and Ten kept hiding. Wait, hiding? Why would they be hiding? Where did that thought come from? You let out a frustrated groan again and sat down on a patch of grass right in the middle of the clearing. “This is stupid, Yuta. I don’t know what to do,” you grumbled, picking at the grass and ripping out little pieces. But that did nothing to calm you down, it only got you more worked up for some reason.

“Take a deep breath and listen to your gut,” you heard Ten’s gentle voice resound inside your head. When you didn’t react and kept ripping out grass, he added: “Yuta is just as stubborn as you, he’ll not come out and I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” “This is so stupid!” You groaned again, letting your body fall back into the grass. When Ten didn’t answer, you took a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself back down. Why were you so irritated anyways? It really wasn’t like you. Closing your eyes, you started to count your breaths to calm your temper. That was when you felt it. Like a flame burning inside you: Bright and flickering wildly. Carefully you reached out to the flame and strangely enough it didn’t burn you, it felt welcome. Like coming home and you couldn’t help but smile. “Are you going to help me find Yuta and Ten?” You whispered. As if the flame was answering, it twitched slightly and calmed down a little. In turn you also felt calmer than you had been seconds ago. Taking another breath, you kept your eyes closed, focusing on the light your little flame shone and from your peripheral vision it seemed like there was another flame. It was a different color and seemed bigger than yours from what you could tell. Opening your eyes again, you quickly got up and walked over into the treeline where you had felt the flame.

“Are you going to throw a temper tantrum every lesson?” Yuta called you out when you had found him, lounging high in a tree eating an apple. You couldn’t fight the heat that crept up your neck, it had been rather childish in retro sight. “You gave me zero instructions,” you tried to rationalize it. “I didn’t have much more to go off from either when I gained my powers,” he argued and jumped down, “So lesson number one.” He patted down his pants once which did exactly nothing for the stains in the fabric before he placed his palm flat on your chest, making your breath hitch. “That in there is your energy. Get to know it. Learn how to read it. It’s where we draw our powers from, where every living being draws their energy from, they’re just not aware of it. If you concentrate and learn how to utilize it to your advantage, you’ll be able to feel other’s energies much more clearly and you will be able to manipulate them.” You nodded along with Yuta’s words even though you couldn’t quite grasp what it all would mean for you. “It’s overwhelming at first,” the warlock smiled, patting your chest before dropping his arm, “But I am here to help as long as you are willing to work with me and not throw a temper tantrum.” “Thank you,” you mumbled, smiling back at Yuta. “It’s thank you, master now,” he grinned. “Now go find Ten, I can tell he’s getting irritated.”

Nodding, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “His hiding spot is a bit far away, I’ll guide you,” Yuta promised, taking one of your hands in his and you felt warmth spread through your body, comforting you. Smiling, you took another breath. You could do this, if Yuta was there to guide you, you could learn to use your powers.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, you stayed with Yuta and Ten. The warlock taught you how to handle all the new things you were able to feel and how to manipulate the different energies around you. At night while you were lying on the little old mattress Yuta had dug up somewhere, Ten often joined you for some ear scratches and told you stories about old witches and warlocks who had become mad in their hunt for power or about incredible pioneers that had written the big spell books Yuta had yet to show you. You had gotten somewhat close with your master as well but you never quite understood him completely. One moment he seemed like he’d rather be literally anywhere else when you were struggling with molding the energies like he had both explained and showed you and the next moment he told you the most shocking made-up stories only to laugh at your face when you had actually believed him. But since he was the only other human you had contact with in a while, you grew attached to him quickly, always gravitating towards him even when he was doing mandatory tasks like cooking or cleaning (which admittedly wasn’t very often).

One rainy afternoon though, the warlock seemed more grim than usual. He had yet to teach you anything today; he had just asked you to grab a few herbs he was running low on. When you had asked Ten what was going on with Yuta, he had only given you a very cryptic answer before he had disappeared. “Something is different today,” you tried to initiate a conversation when the warlock wouldn’t talk to you while he was stirring something in a small cauldron over the fire. “What makes you think that?” “You haven’t taught me anything yet and refuse to talk to me. Ten is also nowhere to be found and he hates the rain.” “Wrong answer,” Yuta cut you off, “You’re still thinking like a regular human.” “I am still human,” you argued. At that your master just snorted, closing the lid on the copper cauldron louder than he needed to. “You’re so much more than just a human; you just need to finally acknowledge it. You came here seeking revenge on those who wronged your people and who abused their powers.” “And I still want them to pay for what they did to those girls.” “You want them gone.” It wasn’t a question. Yuta locked eyes with you: Piercing green meeting yours that were a little more muted. “They don’t deserve to keep living their lives like that. They need to be taught a lesson.” The warlock slowly nodded before he lowered the heat of the fire with a flick of his hand. “Get your cloak.” “Where are we going?” You asked, slipping on the thick fabric and following Yuta outside.

“You tell me,” he answered, motioning for the forest. “Stop toying with me.” “Use your senses, woman,” he spat, “Figure it out.” Huffing in annoyance, you closed your eyes, concentrating on your own energy that swirled inside your chest, feeling it like a small flame before you turned your eyes outward, feeling Yuta’s energy right next to you. His flame was bigger and seemingly less controlled than your own, a little deeper in color and burning hotter than yours. “Stop spying on me,” he spoke lowly, sounding almost amused. Slowly you expanded your sight, feeling the animals hiding from the rain beneath the leaves of the trees and in little caves, feeling the power of the stream that lead into the valley, feeling... Feeling something that was not right. “What is that?” You asked, trying to pinpoint where this energy was coming from. “You tell me,” Yuta spoke lowly, careful to not break your concentration. “Something isn’t right. Near the stream.” The warlock hummed, slowly approaching you to place a hand on your shoulder. Bit by bit you could feel the warmth of his powers mingle with your own, sharpening your senses, his energy guiding yours in the right direction. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only intensified but the comforting warmth of your master made you push further, looking for the source. “See it now?” “It’s a man,” you gasped, your senses almost recoiling when you found him. He was unlike any energy you had ever felt before. His energy felt off, you couldn’t quite describe it. “How does he feel?” Yuta’s low voice calmed you down again, encouraging you to look closer. “Wrong. Something is not right about him. His energy is small but it feels like it’s too warm. Like he’s about to burst.” “Do you know where he is?” “Near the bridge that leads to my town.”

“Alright,” Yuta spoke, sounding content with your analysis and you could feel his energy leave you, signalizing you to come back to the little house as well. Slowly you blinked your eyes open. “What is wrong with the man?” “He is not a good man,” your master spoke, “We’re going to kill him.” You wanted to protest, to tell him that you couldn’t just kill a man. But something, maybe a voice in the back of your head, told you that you could. And more importantly that you should. Wordlessly you followed Yuta to the path that would lead you towards the bridge.

“Remember what I told you about energies when you first felt them?” “We can neither create energy out of nowhere nor can we just make it disappear. We can just change the nature of the energy,” you recited dutifully. “And what does that tell you?” “We can’t rule over life and death.” “Not exactly,” Yuta agreed. “But you took that girl’s life when you came to heal her,” you argued. “I used up all the energy her body had left in it to heal the wounds that were hidden beneath her skin. I killed by healing her. After all her energy was used up, her heart stopped beating just like that.” “Is that what you’re going to teach me?” “No. that man’s body is healthy as far as I could tell,” Yuta shook his head, halting in his steps so you could meet his eyes again. “You might recognize him when we meet him. I need you to keep a level head and do exactly as I say or you might never get the revenge you want to get so badly.” You throat suddenly felt dryer than it had ever been and you tried to swallow down the feeling of fear that had begun to crawl up your spine.

“Swear that you’re going to do as I say,” Yuta pushed, holding out one of his arms. From what Ten had told you, Yuta was asking you to make an oath and those were not to be taken lightly. But you trusted Yuta. You trusted your master. He might have questionable methods to teach you certain things but he was a capable and strong warlock. Nodding, you held out your hand as well and he forcefully grabbed your forearm which you quickly copied. You could feel energy coming off of him, weaving around where you two were connected. “Say it.” “I swear I will do as you say as soon as we meet this man,” you said, your voice sounding deeper than it usually did, carrying a weight it only did when you tried to cast a spell. “And I will in turn swear to protect you and guide you through what we’re about to do,” Yuta promised, squeezing your arm tightly before his energy recoiled and he loosened the grip. “You’re going to make me kill him,” you breathed into the silence that stretched on. “I will,” he confirmed and turned around to keep making your way towards the strange man.

To say you were absolutely terrified was an understatement, your heart was hammering wildly inside your chest and you were sure Yuta must feel how unruly your energy was becoming. “Calm down,” he spoke, “Once you see him, you will feel differently.” “Can’t we start with something a little less drastic?” You pleaded. You weren’t ready for this. “What use does it have? You have learned everything you need to know about manipulating energies. The energy in humans is no different than the energy in a fire or in a plant and you’re doing well manipulating those. You’re ready for the next step.” “Yuta, I can’t,” you begged, swallowing down the taste of bile you suddenly had in your mouth. “You can and you’re going to,” he replied, a tone of finality in his voice, “Now be quiet, we’re almost there.” You had half a mind to scream so the man would run away when there wouldn’t be this voice in your head telling you that this man was no good. Taking a deep breath, you quickly followed your master until you arrived at the bridge, hiding between the bushes.

“He’s not far,” Yuta promised, “I’ll explain it once, listen closely: You will wait for him on the bridge. Make him stop so it’s easier for you to get a grasp on his energy. Just like you do it when you’re putting out a fire, you’re going to tug. Expect resistance because while every energy has the will to exist, human energy usually resists a little harder than just fire.” “What am I going to do with his energy?” You asked, proud that your voice wasn’t breaking. “It’s going to be a lot more energy than you can hold unlike with fires. You need to release it. Find something you can direct it to.” You bit your lip and nodded shakily. Sensing your discomfort, Yuta reached out and grabbed your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. “I’m right behind you. I swore to protect you. If you fail to redirect it, I’ll do it before it eats you alive. But I do not want you to not try. Keep a level head.” Taking a couple of beep breaths, you tried to calm down. Yuta must have his reasons he wanted you to kill this man. He wasn’t unjust. You trusted your master. “Now go out there and wait for him. Maybe stretch your senses to find something to redirect the energy to,” he smiled, making your heart flutter for completely different reasons.

Following your masters orders, you stepped out onto the bridge, pulling your hood further into your face so it would be obscured to the man and briefly stretched out your senses like Yuta had suggested. You could feel the weird energy of the man approach, accompanied by another energy that might belong to his horse. Other than that you couldn’t feel much. The safest way was probably to redirect the energy to the water flowing in the stream. You couldn’t think about any other possibilities because the sounds of hooves approached quickly, revealing the horseman. He abruptly stopped his horse when he saw you blocking his path. “Move!” He yelled but you didn’t budge. In fact you were frozen in place when you recognized the man.

He was one of the knights of the king. But not just any knight. Images from summer flashed your mind: The man had stayed at the inn when it was too late to make the travel back to the castle after he had laughed at the girl he had brought back. In the inn he had drunk enough for three men and boasted about what a great lover he was and that the women could never get enough of him. You felt rage rise inside you. This man was rotten to the core. Yuta had been right, he had no rights to live a comfortable life after he had destroyed the life of so many girls and women. “Move!” He called again but you stayed right where you were, slowly lowering your hood so he could see the dark red color of your hair. “A little witch bitch,” the knight spat, dismounting his horse, a big grin on his face, “The lord will be delighted when I bring you to him.” “You disgust me,” you growled, feeling your energy burn brighter inside you, itching to rip the rotten flame from this poor excuse of a man. Behind you, you could feel Yuta’s own energy shift but you paid it no mind. He wouldn’t interfere. This was your test.

The knight slowly approached you, step after step and you could already smell that he reeked of alcohol. “Stop right there,” you demanded, focusing on his energy. Against your expectation he actually halted in his steps before he started to laugh at you. That was it. You wouldn’t allow him to harm another person anymore. Determined, you reached out with your own energy, gripping his firmly and tugging just like you had learned it. The man promptly choked on his laugh, clutching his chest tightly, looking at you with wide eyes. His lips moved with silent pleas and it only made you feel more disgusted than you already were. How did he have the audacity to beg for forgiveness after all he had done? “You disgust me,” you spat before you tugged for a last time, feeling how the energy separated from his body that limply fell to the ground. A great sense of satisfaction filled you and you couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled from your chest. You could feel his energy course through and around you, seemingly growing now that it wasn’t trapped anymore, latching onto your body as it was the closest living thing. The feeling was indescribable. To feel this much energy coursing through you was incredible but after a moment you knew that you couldn’t hold it, the foreign energy trying to force itself inside you alongside your own energy.

Redirect. You had to redirect it before it ate you alive. Your eyes flickered from the trees to the end of the bridge to the sky above you, covered by dark storm clouds. Without thinking too much, you balled up your own energy, giving the foreign one a firm push upwards, forcing it out of your body and towards the clouds instead. Like a thread that suddenly snapped, the energy left you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

A loud rumbling noise could be heard from above and you knew that you hadn’t made the smartest decision with where you had redirected the energy to. The next thing you felt was a firm chest that you were pressed against and the smell of burning wood and static filling the air. “My little apprentice,” Yuta whispered fondly, gently cupping your cheek. His green eyes were sparkling and if you didn’t know better, you would say that he looked proud of what you had done. “Did I do good?” You asked, looking around his shoulder to see the damage on the bridge. A flash of lightning must have hit it exactly where you and the man’s corpse had been just moments prior, the wood now black and burning. “You did better than I had ever whished for,” Yuta answered, pressing your shivering body tightly against his chest, whispering words of praise into your hair as the reality of what you had just done came crushing down to you, making your body shake with the sobs you let out. You hated yourself for crying. But you weren’t crying for the man. He had deserved what had happened to him. You were crying because it was you who had done it. You weren’t just a human anymore and Yuta had forced you to accept it. You weren’t what was considered normal. You had special powers now, dangerous powers and the only other person that could ever understand and shared the weight that came with those powers was holding you in his arms right now.

“Let’s go home,” Yuta gently spoke, pressing a kiss to your hair and you could only nod and try to not get lost in his eyes when he loosened his grip on you.

“You’re ready.” Puzzled you looked up from where you were reading in one of the big spellbooks in the armchair in front of the fire, Ten curled up in your lap. “You’re ready to get your revenge. You know all you need to know,” Yuta explained himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest where he was leaning against his kitchen counter. When you still couldn’t find the words to tell your master how you were feeling, he continued: “It’s not far to the castle from here. The lord is having a banquet in the evening; all of the royals will be gathered. It’s a great opportunity. You shouldn’t miss it. Ten can show you the way.” “You’re not coming with me?” You asked in a small voice. As much as you still wanted the royals to pay, you had thought that Yuta would help you when it came down to get your revenge. The castle was filled with guards and knights after all. How were you supposed to get in and out of there without being seen? Especially when your plan was to kill the rotten men in charge. “I told you I wouldn’t kill anyone for you. I promised to teach you everything you needed to know so you can get your revenge. And I have done that. There is much more to our powers than just this but I did what I promised and now it’s time for you to do what you need to do.” Before you could argue or voice your concerns, Ten stretched his body in your lap so he could glare at Yuta, a disapproving sound leaving his throat. “Shut up, cat,” Yuta just growled when Ten wouldn’t stop complaining, angrily hissing by now. “I don’t care what you think,” the warlock exclaimed, throwing on his cloak, “Take her to the castle.” After taking a deep breath, he turned to lock eyes with you, a sad smile playing on his lips and added: “Make me proud my little apprentice.”

With that you were left alone in Yuta’s house that had become your home as well. You couldn’t understand the words he had just said. He was throwing you out. Had it all just been this to him and nothing more? Was he just trying to fulfill his promise all these weeks? Did you mean nothing to him? “He is a headstrong idiot,” Ten sighed, his smooth voice like honey for your soul, “You belong here with us and he will realize that eventually.” “Thank you,” you whispered, scratching Ten behind his ears until his purring filled the silence of the room. “And I am not just saying that because Yuta can’t seem to get that spot right there,” he added. You couldn’t hold your giggle, fondly smiling at the cat that you had gotten so close with. “He is right about you being ready though. We should leave soon.” “I have no idea how I should get in and out though. The place must be bursting with guards,” you voiced your concerns. “You would be surprised by how careless the royals are sometimes, they think they’re invincible.” Taking a deep breath, you felt out your own energy, feeling your fire burn brighter with excitement that you could finally give the royals what they deserved. “I’ll show them just how vulnerable they still are,” you said, your voice sounding more determined than you could have wished for. “That’s my girl,” Ten cheered you on, jumping from your lap onto the floor. “I’ll bring you to the castle but I won’t be a big help in this body.” You just nodded, gathering some things you had wanted to take with you: A couple of charged gems and the little dagger Yuta had given you a while back with a slender blade but sharpened to perfection. Lastly you got your cloak to conceal your red hair and green eyes that were a dead giveaway of your true nature. “Ready?” Ten asked, waiting for you outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered, following the creature inside the forest.

When the castle came in sight, you said your farewell to Ten, squeezing his lithe body against your chest to his great dismay. Many people were bringing different things through the big gates and carriage after carriage brought in more supposedly rich and important people. For a while you just leaned against the big walls that surrounded the castle, feeling out the different energies. Of course there were the ordinary energies from the servants and most of the guards that were patrolling mostly on the high walls but the deeper you felt inside the castle, the more rotten energies you could feel, making you sick to the stomach. Your rage was only fueled when you carefully made your way into the courtyard and you could feel distressed and terrified energies further into the castle as well, some of their flames so terrifyingly small that they must belong to some kidnapped girls who were barely holding on to their life.

Waiting for a chance to slip into the more private rooms of the castle, you watched the servants scrambling around behind their masters who for the most time either ignored or scolded them and when a lady screamed at a little boy who had tripped and let some of the stuff he had been carrying drop to the floor, you couldn’t help yourself but to give her energy a quick push only enough to make her heart stutter once before she lost her footing and fell herself. The secret smile the boy quickly hid behind a blank expression was enough thanks for you.

“When is this fortune teller coming around?” One of the guards suddenly asked another one who had just come out of the castle. “She should have been here since the morning and the lord is getting restless, he is snapping at every servant who is coming into his chambers.” A fortune teller? That seemed almost too perfect to be true. Pulling your hood further into your face, you slipped from the shadows and made your way towards the guards. “Good afternoon,” you greeted the guards, honey dripping from your voice, “The lord of this castle sent for me, he wished to know about his future.” The older of the guards slowly let his gaze wander over your form before he reached out a hand to lower your hood. “Don’t,” you hissed, taking a step back. “Come on, leave her alone,” the younger groaned, “I can’t take the lord’s bad mood anymore.” The older one gave you one last once-over before he deemed you no threat and shrugged his shoulders. “You bring her to him, I’m going to the kitchens.”

If you had known how easy it would be to see the lord, you wouldn’t have been this nervous before entering the castle. “Wait in here for him,” the guard told you after he had dropped you off in a small saloon that was just filled with a big sofa and a vanity that displayed big jewels. In the middle of the room stood a small table with a crystal ball on top and you could only barely hold in your laughter. The only problem with this room was that there was nothing you could redirect the lord’s energy to once you had killed him. No fire or plants. This was anything but ideal. Hastily you sat down in front of the crystal ball when you felt the lord approach. You needed a different plan. Either you needed to let this perfect opportunity pass and try to kill him later or you had to do it without your powers. Suddenly the dagger in your pocket felt like it was as heavy as a bag of stones, the handle digging into your hand. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass. You had to take it. Even if it meant that you had to kill him like this. You could do this. This was no different than the guard you had killed.

When you felt the energy of the lord approach, you took another deep breath, searching out your energy for comfort. “Leave us alone,” the lord’s voice commanded the guard who had lead him inside and just like that you were alone with him in the room. You had never seen the lord in person and you didn’t know what you had expected but you thought that his appearance suited his energy: He was a rather small man with greasy black hair. His stomach was rounded and he smelled like he had bathed in perfume to gloss over how bad he smelled. “Finally you are here,” he spoke and even his voice was unattractive, his tone nasally and off pitch, likely from too much alcohol. You just wordlessly nodded your head, not deeming him worthy for words of greetings either. “Sit down so we can get started.”   “I don’t like your attitude woman,” he snarled, looking down at you from his reddened eyes, “You are different than the last one that came.” “I have my special ways to see what the future holds for you,” you simply answered, dragging your dagger from your pocket and placing it onto the table. At that the unruly eyebrows of the man shot up. “Are you threatening me?” “I would never dare to,” you gritted, fighting the sarcasm from creeping into your tone, “But nothing is purer than what your blood could tell me.”

The lord seemed to think about your words for a while, if he was even capable of that. But his energy seemed to calm down after a while when he sat down opposite of you. “Very well,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of the gems you had and placed them on the table, “Please hold your palms up.” When the lord did as you asked, you took a deep breath and willed your hands to not shake when you were grabbing for the dagger. It was rather small in comparison to Yuta’s favorite ones but it should do its job just as good as any other dagger he had in his collection. You really hadn’t thought all of this through. But you needed to do this. For all the girls living on this lord’s lands. You weren’t close enough to him to hurt him much with the dagger and if you weren’t quick enough and he’d sense your true intentions, he would call for the guards. And when you had nowhere to redirect their energy to, you were basically helpless.

“I don’t have all day,” the lord complained when you hadn’t moved after a while. “I was concentrating on your energy, you disgusting piece of shit,” you spat out, making an on-the-spot decision to stop the charade. Quickly, before he could even completely fathom your words, you gave his energy a push to render him breathless for a while which gave you just enough time to leap over the table to ram your dagger into the fat of his neck. With a furiously beating heart, you watched his eyes widen and his throat gurgle with the blood that was flowing into his lungs and seeping from the wound when you pulled your dagger back out. Unable to move your body, you watched him convulse in pain until he stopped moving altogether, his eyes open wide and unseeing. Slowly you could feel his flame getting smaller and smaller until you couldn’t detect it anymore. You had done it. The lord was dead.

Just like the last time when you had killed, the reality came crashing back down to you after the adrenaline had seeped from your body and you felt your hand shaking that still clutched the dagger tightly. When you looked down and saw it covered in the lord’s blood, you instinctively let the dagger fall, the noise unnaturally loud in the silent room.  Your breathing picked up and you felt panic rise in your chest. How were you going to get back out of here? You were drenched in blood and people would surely start to miss the lord soon. Yuta had been wrong, you weren’t ready for this. Bile rose too your mouth and tears were collecting in your eyes. You were done for; they would burn you in the courtyard while laughing at you for your foolish plan to take all the rotten royals out.

“My little apprentice,” a voice said behind you and through your tears you looked up into Yuta’s familiar face. “What are you doing here?” You sobbed, balling your blood smeared hands to fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I thought you had left me.” “Watching out for you, what else?” He smiled, pulling you away from the lord’s corpse and against his chest, not minding that you were staining his cloak with blood. His calming energy engulfed you like a cloud and slowly evened out your own untamed energy and eventually helped you to even out your breathing. “There are a lot more people here than I expected,” you mumbled when your tears had stopped falling, growing basically boneless in Yuta’s hold. “We’re going to take care of them together,” Yuta promised, pressing a kiss to your hair before he loosened his hold on you and took a look around the lord’s room, picking up some of the expensive looking jewelry that was laying around.

“The banquet has already begun,” you spoke after you had felt out the remaining rotten energies, all bundled up in the big hall, “They will become suspicious if he’s not coming down soon.” “I have always had a thing for dramatic entrances,” the warlock grinned, loosening his cloak so it fell to the ground, “How about we interrupt this boring dinner they are having right now and heat this place up a little? There is this nice little fire in the fireplace to keep them warm but I feel like it could use a little more energy.” His words made you mirror the wicked grin that had started to spread on his lips. “Lead the way,” you spoke, ready to teach all the rotten royals a lesson. With Yuta by your side, you knew that you couldn’t fail.

Together you stood in front of the burning castle, a little further up the hill and hidden by trees, listening to the people screaming in agony. When you turned your head to look at Yuta, the orange flames of the fire beautifully illuminated his features despite the ashes that were clinging to his cheeks and the fact that he was missing half an eyebrow that must have gotten burned off, his lips crooked into a cocky grin. “Nothing more beautiful than the chaos some little flames can cause,” he spoke before he tore his gaze from the castle and looked at you instead. Tenderly he reached out to wipe the splatters of blood on your cheeks away, just smearing them further onto your skin in the process. “You look beautiful like this,” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling dangerously. “I’m a mess,” you argued, feeling how the blood on your hands was slowly drying. “The most beautiful mess I have ever seen.” Before you could argue any further, the warlock connected your lips in a bruising kiss, pressing your body close to his. He tasted of smoke, blood and danger but to you it tasted like the most intoxicating drink you ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“What are you doing, Yuta?” You breathed against his lips when his hands had slipped beneath your shirt, nails raking over the skin of your stomach. “Unleashing your full powers,” he groaned, all but ripping the garment over your head before roughly connecting your lips again. “What do you mean?” “Stop asking so many questions,” the warlock growled, sucking harshly on the skin of your neck, obviously not bothered by the blood clinging to your skin. You could just mewl and desperately clutch onto him, afraid your legs would give out. Once Yuta was satisfied with how dark the mark on your neck had turned he gripped your hair to yank your head back so he could kiss you again. Still high on the adrenaline from before, you shamelessly moaned into his mouth when he kept your strands of hair in a firm grip to angle your head just how he wanted. Grinning against your lips, he used his chance to slip his tongue between your parted lips, turning the kiss downright filthy. “Yuta,” you sighed when he parted from you, both of you panting heavily while staring into each other’s green eyes. Blood was smeared onto both of your faces now and you had stained his shirt with the blood clinging to our hands. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his hands wandering to where the wrappings around your chest were fastened, “Tell me to unleash your full potential, my little witch.” Before you could answer, he leaned in to steal another kiss while he tugged on the cloth that had kept your breasts covered. “You don’t even know how fucking hot you are like this,” he groaned against your lips, roughly grabbing your boobs to massage the soft flesh, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Do it,” you moaned, arching your back towards the warlock, “Do it, Yuta.”

A deep growl came from his chest and with quick movements he rid himself of his singed shirt and stepped out of his pants to stand before you completely naked safe for the ashes and blood clinging to his skin. His cock was already hard and hanging heavy between his legs. With a dangerous smile on his spit slicked lips, he crowded you against the trunk of a tree, the bark digging roughly into your back. With only so much as a flick of his wrist, the warlock had you naked as well and raked his widely blown eyes over the exposed skin. “My little witch, so beautiful,” he rasped, pressing his lips to the mark he had created on your neck, making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Chuckling he grabbed one of your thighs to wrap it around his waist, exposing your most private part to him. But before you even had time to think about what you were about to do and how improper it was, Yuta had snaked a hand between your bodies to cup your sex, slowly grinding the heel of his palm in your clit which tore a loud moan from your lips that mingled with the screams you could still hear in the distance.

A grin spread on Yuta’s lips when you threw your head back and moaned unashamed when one of his fingers played around your entrance, teasing but never slipping inside, making more and more wetness seep from your core. “You want it?” He asked, pinching the skin of your thigh that he still held tightly to get your attention. “I already told you to do it,” you whined, grinding your hips in an attempt to finally make his finger slip inside you. “When will my little apprentice finally learn to answer my questions properly?” He sighed, bringing his hand down on your wet folds, creating a wet slapping noise that brought blood to your face. The mixture of pain and pleasure made your head swim even more than the adrenaline had minutes ago. “Answer your master,” Yuta growled, bringing his hand down a second time, causing you to jolt in his hold. “Do it already,” you groaned, burying your hands in his unruly red hair to kiss him again, wasting no time to lick into his mouth. If anything you were a fast learner and tried to match Yuta in the kiss. While you were distracted with kissing the life out of him, he finally slipped one of his fingers inside you, making you gasp and break the kiss. “Feels good?” He grinned as he began to move his finger at a steady pace before quickly adding a second one, stretching you out. “Yeah, feels good, master,” you breathed. You could feel Yuta’s breath hitch against your lips before he let out a row of colorful curses, speeding up the motion of his fingers. “Say it again,” he growled. “Say what again?” You hiccupped, holding onto his shoulders tightly, the pleasure making your head swim. “Call me your master,” the warlock growled, crooking his fingers inside you so you saw stars behind your eyes, punching all air from your lungs. “Master, please,” you choked out, burying your nails in his shoulder to drag them down his back, leaving angry red lines and a trail of smeared blood.

Cursing, Yuta pulled his fingers from your core, making a distressed mewls leave your lips. He just chuckled breathlessly at your reaction but before you had the time to even feel ashamed, you felt the blunt head of his cock slip inside you, the feeling so foreign and overwhelming that you had to close your eyes. Yuta slowly pushed inside deeper and deeper until your bodies were as flush together as the position was allowing you to. “Fuck you’re squeezing me so tightly,” Yuta cursed and breathed heavily into your ear. You could only mewl instead of answering properly; you had never felt like this in your entire life. You felt your energy bounce around wildly in your chest, slowly expanding and turning deeper in shade. But before you had any chance to take a closer took, Yuta pulled his hips back and thrust right back into you, pulling loud moans from both of you. “You feel it?” He groaned, slowly picking up his pace, “Feel how your powers grow?”

“I couldn’t care less about any of my powers right now,” you whined, yanking Yuta close by the hair on his nape to crash your lips together to stop yourself from moaning out loudly. “So feisty,” he breathlessly chuckled against your lips, “Hold on tightly.” In a heartbeat he had twirled you around to lay you down into the grass instead. Watching your expression closely, he thrust back inside you, causing you to moan loudly with how deep he was inside you now. The feeling was so overwhelming that you clamped your thighs tightly around his frame and threw your head back with a loud moan. “That’s it, let me hear you,” the warlock moaned, caging you between his arms before he started to move his hips in quick thrusts that made stars spark behind your closed eyelids. You didn’t have any brainpower left to even remotely feel embarrassed by how loud you were being, instead digging your fingers into Yuta’s shoulders to pull him back down into a messy kiss that was more tongue and panting into each other’s mouths than anything else.

“Look at me my little witch,” Yuta panted when his trusts were getting erratic and you felt like the energy inside you was ready to burst and explode in thousand little stars. Just when your emerald eyes met his piercing gaze and you saw how his eyes were filled with so much more than just lust, you couldn’t help yourself anymore and let go of the coil inside your stomach, letting the pleasure overwhelm your body while moaning your master’s name. Seconds after you heard Yuta moan your own name while he pressed inside you for one last time, his back arched and lips parted. Around you, the air was buzzing with energy, almost singing with how potent it was. For a while you just looked at each other, breathing heavily, silly smiles on both of your lips before Yuta leaned down to connect them in a tender kiss.

“You two disgust me,” a familiar voice suddenly broke the delicate silence but this time it wasn’t inside your head. When both Yuta and you looked to the side, you saw a slender man with jet black hair sitting in the grass not far from you, looking back at you with familiar amber eyes. “But I can’t say I hate what you managed to do,” Ten added, looking at his delicate hands. “Go stare at some other people fucking, you creep,” Yuta growled, covering your body with his. “But I finally had something different to see than you sadly beating your meat or trying out questionable spells,” Ten teased, poking out his tongue. “If you don’t leave right now, I will find a way to trap you inside a frog next time.” “I’d love to see you try, honey,” Ten laughed before he actually left to give you some privacy.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled into Yuta’s chest where you had hidden your face that must have the same color as his hair at this point. “Don’t mind him,” Yuta smiled, kissing your forehead, then your nose and both of your cheeks before pecking your lips. “I can’t look Ten in the eyes anymore,” you groaned, making the warlock laugh. “Let’s not talk about him when I’m still inside you,” Yuta whispered, grinding your hips together to prove his point. “Let’s make him wait for a bit longer.”

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...

[snowdice]

A Twist of Fate {Part 4} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton, Remy & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus, Remy

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is… but… it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates, car accidents mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It took a moment for Patton to get his breath back after he collided with the ground, his back stinging from where it had slid slightly against the pavement. He heard a car zooming by where he’d been standing a moment before.

Had he almost died?

He hadn’t even noticed the car; it had come out of nowhere, and he would have gotten hit if a young boy hadn’t tackled him. How the boy had been able to notice the situation and react to it that quickly, Patton didn’t know, but he was certainly grateful.

He caught sight of the back of his hands and was surprised to see what he immediately identified as soulmarks even though that made absolutely no sense because he’d never had soulmarks on his hands. Suddenly having soulmates was something he’d never dared wish for, and now he had at least 5 more just on the back of his hands, one of which was already filled in.

Without even making the decision to do so, his hand came up to cup the boy’s cheek gently. “Hi,” Patton said softly. He could help but stare at the soulmark on his face, also colored in and the shape of which perfectly matched the one on Patton’s hand.

“Are you okay?” the boy asked.

“Fine,” Patton replied. “My back’s probably a little scrapped up, but it’s better than the alternative. Are you okay?”

The boy didn’t seem to expect the question. “I’m fine,” he said. His face was half taken up by a burn, Patton noticed, and it was perhaps silly that he was only just noticing it now, but one might forgive him considering his mind was elsewhere. The pattern… didn’t look random. It was a thought which made Patton feel a bit queasy. It was also clearly not fresh. He was so young; how old must he have been when he’d gotten it?

The boy appeared to notice the way he was staring at the scar and seemed to grow visibly uncomfortable. He looked down at his hand currently on Patton’s chest and grimaced for some reason that Patton could not puzzle out. He seemed confused and perhaps even a bit horrified looking at his own arm. Patton added that fact to list of questions quickly growing as his heartbeat settled back into its normal rhythm.

His attention returned to the matching soulmarks once again. The location of the mark on Patton’s hand inarguably indicated a parent child relationship was destined between them, but the boy was older than Patton would expect, 10 to 12 probably. He recalled from when he’d read up on adoption that one is more likely to have a soulmark that drifted to the wrist if one met their child soulmate later in development. Usually by the time a child was a preteen, it would be on the wrist or even towards the palm. Yet, this soulmark was firmly planted in the center of Patton’s hand.

Patton had definitely been staring at him for too long and the slight discomfort from before started to shift into something worse. He looked like he was getting ready to bolt.

“We should probably move from the middle of the sidewalk,” Patton suggested, hoping to keep him from running. “Why don’t we go to the bakery? I’ll get you some food and something to drink in thanks, and we can calm down from that fright.”

Patton watched a war happen on his face. Whatever was wrong seemed to be challenged by the prospect of getting food, and Patton couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a very bad thing. Judging by his skittishness, Patton felt it was probably a bad thing.

He nodded hesitantly after a moment, and Patton smiled gently at him. “You’re going to have to get off me first kiddo,” he pointed out.

The kid rolled off of him, and they both got to their feet. Patton offered him a hand without even thinking about it and after a bit of wavering, he took it.

“Um… look both ways?” he suggested when they turned to the street.

Right. Patton very carefully looked both ways and listened intently for any sounds of approaching vehicles. He imagined he would be doing something similar whenever he crossed a street for a while going forward. When he was sure it was safe, they crossed the street together.

There was another child loitering near the bakery door, one that Patton recognized. He shifted back and forth on his feet, staring at them.

“Jimmy,” Patton said confused. He glanced around but there were no other adults nearby. “Why are you here alone? Where’s your…” He remembered he didn’t actually know the nature of Jimmy’s relationship to the soulmate who always brought him to the bakery. “Where’s the man you’re usually with?”

“Uh,” Jimmy said. “He disowned me and abandoned me on the street.” Patton saw the boy whose hand he was holding make some sort of gesture out of the corner of his eyes. “I mean…” Jimmy said. “He slit his own throat to get away from me.”

“No,” the second boy hissed.

Jimmy threw up his hands. “That’s the gesture you were doing!”

“…Why don’t you come inside too, Jimmy,” Patton suggested as he unlocked the door. He was far too young to be out on his own especially when it was going to be getting dark soon. Plus, the two kids clearly knew each other, despite the fact that Patton had never seen the boy who’d saved him before.

“Kay,” Jimmy agreed easily.

Patton shepherded the two boys through the door. “Um,” he said. “How about cinnamon rolls and juice? At least to start.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up. “We’re getting food?!” he asked excitedly. “Bonus food!”

“I, yes,” Patton agreed because he didn’t know what else to say. “Bonus food.” He went around the counter and grabbed two cinnamon rolls and a couple of bottles of juice, making a mental note to reimburse the bakery for them later. He set them down at a table and gestured for the two boys to come over. Jimmy skipped over without any pause, but the other boy stood at the door for a moment before coming over. Jimmy started snacking on his cinnamon roll the moment he set down, but the other boy just looked at the food for a couple of long moments.

Patton took a seat on the other side of the table from the boys. “What’s your name?” he asked the boy who’d saved him.

“Why do you want to know?” was immediately shot back.

Patton didn’t react to the sharpness of his tone, though he internally wondered about the sudden defensiveness. “Well,” he reasoned. “You just saved my life. I’d like to know who I’m thanking.”

“Evan,” he said after a moment.

“Well, hello Evan,” Patton said. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for your help before.”

“It…” Evan said. “I was there.”

“So you were,” Patton agreed. “Still, thank you.”

Evan shrugged and looked back down at his cinnamon roll.

“Would you like something else?” Patton asked. “I can get you something different if you want.” He turned to glance at Jimmy just to see that he’d already finished his cinnamon roll. He was grinning widely and swinging his feet back and forth, his face covered in icing. He’d even managed to get a bit on his ear. Patton couldn’t help but smile at the adorable picture. “I can get you more too if you want Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s face dropped so suddenly and violently that it just about gave him whiplash. “You’re really nice,” he said, and there were tears in his eyes that spilled over without warning. “I’m glad you didn’t get crushed underneath a car and bleed to death alone on the road before the ambulance got there,” he cried.

Patton found himself reaching out to him as he sobbed, trying to give some form of comfort. Before Patton quite knew what was happening, Jimmy had scooted of his chair and climbed directly into Patton’s lap. Patton’s breath caught as his skin tingled, another of the soulmarks on his hand coloring in. Yet, he was too concerned with the sobbing child in his lap to wonder about how or why all of this was happening suddenly. Instead, he wrapped his arm around the child and hushed him. Jimmy nuzzled his cheek into Patton’s chest as Patton stroked a careful hand through his hair.

“It’s okay,” Patton soothed. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Patton glanced at Evan over the top of Jimmy’s head. Evan appeared distressed at Jimmy’s distress but tried to blank his face out when he saw Patton looking. Patton didn’t know much about what was going on with these boys, but he suddenly felt a strong wave of protectiveness for the small child trying to keep an image of strength and coldness as well as for the even smaller child curled up in his arms.

Jimmy drew back after a few moments to peer at him, still teary eyed. Patton let his thumb trace the light blue mark that had appeared under his left eye. There was another one on his chin, Patton realized, and it was one that definitely hadn’t been there before. Patton had specifically noted that he didn’t have any parental soulmarks. This one was not filled in unlike Patton’s.

Jimmy reached up to touch Patton’s face, mirroring the touch Patton was giving him with his slightly sticky fingers, and Patton caught sight of the other filled in soulmark on the boy’s forearm. Where was Jimmy’s uncle or brother or whatever he was? Patton had to wonder. He’d never seen Jimmy or the man without the other. It was strange that Jimmy wasn’t with him now, and more than that, didn’t seem worried about finding him.

Jimmy was no longer crying. He looked at Patton for a long while with far too old eyes that made Patton’s heart ache a bit for reasons he couldn’t name. “Can I have apple juice instead?” he finally broke his silence.

Patton snorted out a laugh at the sudden question. This was why Patton had always loved kids: wailing one moment and critiquing his drink choices the next.

“Sure, kiddo,” he agreed. “I’ll get you some apple juice.”

He glanced over at Evan as Jimmy crawled out of his lap. The other boy was looking over at Jimmy with a fondly exasperated look and Patton blinked, studying him. The look was strangely familiar. He studied Evan a little more intently. He was wearing clothing that was far too big for him and looking at them, they looked very familiar. He recognized that shirt from being on a taller body earlier.

It took him a few moments, but Patton was not stupid. The missing guardian, the way he’d looked at his hand earlier and grimaced, the clothes… Patton tilted his head to look and saw the soulmark on the Evan’s wrist that matched the one on Jimmy’s forearm.

He was a shapeshifter. It was the only thing that made sense. Evan was the man who usually came in with Jimmy. He must have shifted himself to look like an adult and shifted the scar off his face. It would explain why he seemed afraid earlier when Patton had been looking at the scar. He must have lost his shift when he’d tackled Patton.

Patton didn’t voice his revelation as he got to his feet to grab a different juice box from the bakery refrigerator.

The question then, of course, became what the circumstances were that made Evan need to shape shift to look older so frequently. It clearly wasn’t a game. From the little Patton knew about that specific superpower, it took a lot of energy and the power usually was one that wouldn’t fully develop until his late teens. He remembered a girl in high school came fully into her powers during their last year. She shifted into one of the teachers once for a joke and then proceeded to consume an entire pizza because it had burnt so many calories. Yet, Evan had managed to consistently fully shift into a convincing adult on a regular basis. It was impressive, but extremely worrying. Patton’s and the unfilled soulmark were the only ones on Evan’s and Jimmy’s faces which painted a worrying picture. No one was taking care of them, were they?

So, Patton guessed it fell to him now. The last thing he’d expected was to become a dad today or ever really, but that’s what was happening.

“What’s on your face?” Evan asked Jimmy as Patton walked back over.

Jimmy’s eyes flickered to Patton, telling Patton that he already very well knew what it was. “Sprinkle,” he muttered.

“Bullshit!”

“That’s maybe not the best word to use, don’t you think,” Patton said with a frown. “It’s a bit mean.”

Evan narrowed his eyes at Patton. “You’re not my dad,” he hissed. Jimmy twitched nervously at that. Evan must have noticed because his head shot to look at him. “What?”

“Um…” Jimmy reached forward and pushed the silver reflective napkin dispenser towards him.

Evan looked into it, blinked, and touched the filled in mark on his face. “What the fuck?”

“That’s not a nice word,” Patton said.

Evan looked at him, lips pulling into a snarl. His teeth almost seemed to sharpen… in fact considering he was a shapeshifter they may have. “Go stick a cactus up your fucking ass.”

“O-oh,” said Patton, startled.

Evan turned on Jimmy. “What the hell is going on?”

“You saved him, fate was changed, and so we got more soulmarks,” Jimmy explained calmly. Jimmy reached to take Patton’s hand and Patton let him. He showed the marks on the back of Patton’s hand.

“Absolutely not!” said Evan, standing up and shaking his head. “Nope, this isn’t happening. We aren’t doing that.”

“I-” Patton said, but Evan cut him off, putting his arms out in front of him like he was trying to keep Patton away from him even though Patton hadn’t taken a step towards him.

“I am not putting myself at the mercy of some random person just because I got a weird freckle on my face,” he said. The way he phrased it combined with everything else he’d inferred about their current situation made bile rise in Patton’s throat. “Fuck that noise!”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Patton promised.

“I’m not an idiot,” Evan retorted.

“You stayed with me because of a soulmark,” Jimmy said softly.

Evan hesitated. “That’s different,” he stammered. “A-and I would have stayed without it.” They looked at each other for a long moment. Jimmy crossed his arms. Evan looked lost and stressed. “We can’t,” Evan said. “You know why we can’t.”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Patton said even though the thought broke his heart. It was not about him, he knew. There was something else going on and as much as he wanted to grab them both and bundle them up in bubble wrap, soulmarks or no, he could tell it wouldn’t go over well. “I won’t keep you, but why don’t you come to my house, just for a visit. I’ll cook you something good for dinner and you two can get cleaned up. Maybe you can even sleep for a bit. Then you can leave in the morning or at any point if you want. How about that?”

“Like I’m supposed to believe you’re actually giving us a choice,” Evan said bitterly. “I know adults. They lie and break promises all the time.”

“Go then,” Patton said even though it stung. The worst thing he could do right now was try to make them stay. Clearly, they’d been hurt before, been trapped before. He wouldn’t do the same thing to them again. He had to believe fate would bring them back no matter what they chose. “I won’t stop you. I’ll ask that you take my address just in case you change your mind, but I’d never force someone to stay with me.”

“You’re lying,” Evan said.

“I’m not.”

“You’ll call the cops on us as soon as we go and have them deliver us to your doorstep. They won’t even question it because of our soulmarks.”

“No,” Patton said.

He searched Patton’s face for a long time and then he looked at Jimmy. Jimmy just bit his lip and looked down. “I can’t see right now,” he said. “Anything. On the streets would be more dangerous.” Patton wasn’t sure what that meant, but it seemed to stress Evan out even more.

He looked back at Patton.

“One night,” Evan said. “You don’t separate us and there needs to be a way for us to leave at any time.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed with a soft smile. He was relieved. They were giving him a chance. He just had to do his best to convince them to stay.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 5

[alteridolriley]

Life Gets Sweeter: Meeting

Hello everyone! Welcome to the first written installment of the Sanders Sides bakery AU!!! Hope you all enjoy! Please be sure to read the warnings/triggers and protect yourself. Hope you all enjoy! Please also check out the character designs on my cocreator's @availe blog!! They're beautiful designs!!! NOTE: This series is not told in any specific order. Consider this just a random entry! <3

Pairings: Eventual romantic Moxiety/Logince, platonic Royality/Analogical/Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: (This is for the series as a whole, not just this entry) suicidal thoughts/actions, depression, anxiety, blood, Deceit mention/sympathetic Deceit, homophobia/transphobia, weapons, nightmares, burning, cursing (to be added onto possibly)

People who might be interested: @mirror2thespirit, @andy-the-anon, @shadowjag, @randomslasher (bc moxiety), @justanotherpurplebutterfly, @sanders-trash-4ever

It was a dark, gloomy, and otherwise sad day.

Virgil Sanders laid on his mattress, covered with a rather thin blanket. The pillow under his head may as well be nonexistent as most of the stuffing had fallen out. Dark purple curtains hid the early evening sunset from the room. The clouds had parted later during that afternoon, letting some sun peek through, but Virgil had closed the curtains.

With little effort, Virgil sat up and let the blanket fall to the floor. His mattress was thin and without a bed frame, it was rather uncomfortable. The thin man stood and pulled on his jean & purple hoodie, covering his head with the hood. He stared at the next to empty kitchen across from him, discarded books, paper, pens and such laying all over the nearby dining room table.

His stomach grumbled as his gaze passed over the fridge. How long had it been since he ate? Virgil couldn't honestly remember. He had no money. What little he had usually went to his rent. It wasn't as if he felt like eating anyway.

Virgil ran his right hand through his hair, ignoring his burning skin under his bandages. He pulled his sleeve down tight to hide them. Was he ashamed of the bandages or the fact he had failed? Virgil shrugged to himself before grabbing his keys and his cell phone, leaving his apartment.

Leftover snow blanketed the neighborhood and all was silent. Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets and walked. There was no specific destination until he spotted the bridge to his right which was the bridge that led back into town. Virgil sighed, turning on his heel and headed towards it.

As he waited at a crossroads and cars passed in front of him, he contemplated just walking in front of one of them. But then again, Virgil didn't want someone else to bear his burden. After the traffic had passed, Virgil crossed and stepped up the slope to the bridge. With every step, the air became colder. Virgil began to be able to hear the water below sloshing and lapping in the wind. Once he reached the middle of the bridge he sat down, dangling his legs over the edge.

How many times had he come here? Virgil had lost count. But there was one thing he knew. This was the last time.

College, work, family, life... it had all became just too much. Not that anyone would miss him if he was gone. His parents and brother had stopped trying to call since Virgil never answered. His boss at work was just an asshole. Who gave a fuck about him anyways? Same with his teachers in college. Their interpretations of works was wrong and fuck them too.

Virgil grabbed onto the metal frame just above his head and squeezed tightly.

Is it cold? Of course it is you idiot.

Will it hurt? Of course it will you idiot.

But it'll end. Everything would. And that was the whole point of it all.

Virgil took in a breath through his nose and out his mouth. Why the absolute fuck was he scared?

Just do it you goddamn coward. Just do it. Doitdoitdoitdoit-

"Hey, you okay?"

The voice startled Virgil so much he slammed the top of his head onto the beam. "Motherfuc-" he covered the pain with his hands, biting his lip.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" The voice spoke again. Within a second, a person was leaning down next to Virgil. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

Virgil turned to see a man sitting down next to him. He had a rather thin frame but a bit of a tummy. Black thin rimmed glasses covered his bright blue eyes. In his hands was a bright pink box with a decorative label that read 'Patton's Pastries & Sweets'. The man dangled his own legs over the side and proceeded to try and open the box in his hands. It revealed 6 donuts inside: chocolate, powdered, and one that was pink- strawberry? Virgil tried his best to ignore the rumbled his stomach made. He had never smelled such delicious donuts in his life.

"Would you like one?" The man asked, holding the box out. "Feel free! I give them away to everyone in town." He held the box out towards Virgil but Virgil pushed it back towards him.

"No, I'm fine." Virgil said firmly with a bit more anger than he intended.

"Are you sure? They're really delicious, if I do say so myself!" The man said cheerfully. He didn't seem bothered by Virgil's retort. "I say that because I made them!" He flipped over the lid, pointing at the name. "That's me! I'm Patton. You are?"

Virgil scratched the back of his neck, turning his gaze from Patton away and back to the flowing river under them. "I'm... I'm Virgil." Virgil finally mumbled, biting his lip.

"Virgil?" Patton repeated. A smile reaching from ear to ear formed on his face. "Wow that's such a cool name! Wish I had thought of that." Virgil raised an eyebrow as he turned back to Patton. "Anyway! Let's go! It's really cold out here." Patton sat the donuts down on the bridge and pulled himself up. He then offered his hand to Virgil. "Come on?"

Virgil looked from Patton's hand and then to the water and back up into Patton's deep blue eyes. They looked just like the water below. But instead of cold, they somehow looked like a nice warm bath rather than a cold dark death below the bridge. Virgil released a deep sigh and took Patton's hand, standing up. He could always come back to the bridge tomorrow.

"Also, Virgil, I must insist!" Patton leaned over and picked up the donuts. "I rather not eat all of these by myself."

Patton smiled brightly and Virgil honestly began to wonder how Patton stayed so happy. But Virgil knew he rather not be the one to cause Patton's smile to disappear. So he reached and took one of the chocolate ones, taking a small bite out of the side. For just a brief moment, Virgil felt a very happy sensation as the chocolate and sugar danced in his mouth. This was easily the best donut he had ever tasted.

"You like it?!" Patton asked excitedly, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. Virgil simply nodded and took another bite to prove it. Patton squealed happily.

The two of them walked down the bridge and back into the suburb area. Without realizing, Virgil subconsciously walked back towards his apartment while talking with Patton. To be fair, Patton did most of the talking while Virgil ate another donut. When Virgil stopped in front of his apartment complex, Patton peeked behind him.

"Oh do you live here?" Patton asked. Virgil nodded. "Oh okay! Well you get inside to warm up. I think I'll head home too actually. Have a good night Virgil!" Patton waved and flashed another smile.

As Virgil let himself inside the house, he realized Patton hadn't walked away yet. Once he turned to shut the door, the man gave him another quick closed eye smile and then turned to leave. Virgil pushed the door closed and locked it. He looked down at the half eaten second donut in his hand.

If it wasn't for the donut he truly could believe that this had all been a dream.

Virgil awoke abruptly, his head pounding and his heart racing.

Where was he? What happened?

Somehow Virgil had found his way onto his futon, cuddled in his old patchwork hoodie and a galaxy print blanket. He reached into his pocket for his phone but found nothing. Scrambling to get uncovered from the blanket, he heard a soft thump. His cell phone lay faceup and lit up brightly, cutting through the darkness. Virgil wiped his eyes as he grabbed the phone and blinked upon reading the screen.

"The 31st? Wait wait wait... wasn't it the 29th when I came home?" Virgil mumbled to himself before it came back to him as he eyed a dried out half donut sitting on the coffee table in front of him. "Oh my God did I sleep for two fucking days?"

Virgil forced himself up, feeling his brain go hazy and his vision flicker. A chill was sent down his spine as the blanket fell from his shoulders. He pulled the old hoodie off of his shoulders and then pulled his jean purple hoodie back on and grabbed his keys and cellphone, heading out the door.

The chill of the early January morning greeted him. Virgil pulled his hood over his head. He ignored the gnawing at his stomach and the light headedness he was feeling. Virgil only had one destination in mind. Patton. Most specifically, Patton's bakery. Virgil tried to remember the address on the top of the box under the logo. He had stared at it for so long but for some reason, it hadn't committed to memory.

"I think it said East 8th Street..." Virgil mumbled as he walked across the iron bridge. He didn't even so much as stop to look down. "I think 8th street starts at the second street at the end of the bridge and east is towards the high school..."

Virgil walked slowly and scooted his feet against the faded asphalt, hugging his stomach tightly. His vision was blurry and inaccurate but he was able to find his way slowly but surely to 8th street by way of a convenient restaurant on the corner aptly named "8th Street Cooking".

As Virgil walked along the sidewalk, he realized just how early in the day it was. He glanced at his basically dead cellphone. 3:49am looked back at him and his teeth chattered. What the absolute hell was he doing right now? Would Patton even be there? Did Patton even exist?

"No, he does exist. The donut is sitting in my apartment. Patton's real. He gave it to me. I just wanna see him again." Virgil spoke to himself as a wave of nausea and tiredness threatened to consume him.

Virgil tried his best to focus and continue walking but it was to no avail. His pain and fatigue got the best of him as he collapsed into a doorway, falling inside of a random building, losing consciousness.

Patton whistled while he worked in the back of the bakery. He had always been a morning person for the most part. Besides it was always quiet and gave him time to think and get things done before the hustle and bustle of the customers during breakfast.

Patton tied his navy blue apron around his back and set to work. He rolled the donuts perfectly, creating a few sheets in seconds, along with extra donut holes to sell on the side. From the fridge, Patton pulled out premade cookies, pastries, and other assorted treats which were prepared by his employees the day before. As he placed them in the large oven, the bell of the customer entrance rang out. Patton felt himself smile. It was pretty early so he was surprised to hear the bell, but maybe that meant it was someone new!

"I'll be right there!" Patton called out, grabbing a towel.

He walked through the door towards the front, seeing the door propped open by something. The wind from the early morning blew in fiercely.

"What..." Patton said as he walked around the counter, suddenly seeing a person had fallen inside his doorway and wasn't moving. "Oh my goodness!" He said worriedly, dropping the towel in his hand. He ran to the collapsed man and flipped him over. After getting a good look at his face, a realization washed over. "Virgil...?" Patton murmured, pulling him fully inside the building. Patton reached up to lock the door and flip the lights off in one swift motion. "Virgil, kiddo, can you hear me?" He asked, holding Virgil as gently as he could. The man was frozen to the core and his teeth chattered. His eyes were open slightly but he was unresponsive.

Patton looked back and forth, taking deep breaths. He had to get Virgil warmed up. He gently put his arm behind Virgil's back and his other arm under Virgil's legs. Taking a deep breath, Patton lifted the man, surprised at how light he was. He didn't feel any heavier than the largest sack of flour Patton normally purchased. Patton safely carried Virgil to the back of the store to the break room and laid him down carefully on the couch. He pulled some blankets out of the closet and covered him, tucking him in. As Patton fluffed the pillow, Virgil's eyes opened slowly and blinked as the man groaned.

"Where... am I?" Virgil asked, his voice scratchy. He blinked several times before his vision cleared. "Patton?"

"Yeah. How are you feeling?" Patton pulled a chair over to the couch and he sat down. He had so many more questions but he didn't want to overload Virgil too much.

Virgil shrugged. He leaned back and pushed his bangs out of his face. “How did I get here? What happened this morning?” Virgil said aloud. They weren’t really questions, mostly just confusion. “Wait, I think I remember waking up and realizing it had been like two days.”

“You slept for two whole days?” Patton said incredulously as his eyes widened. “Then when’s the last time you ate?”

Virgil didn’t make eye contact but murmured softly, “…donuts…”

Patton covered his mouth in surprise. “My goodness, Virgil, if you haven’t eaten since I gave you the donuts and you were outside this morning… it’s no wonder you lost consciousness.”

Patton bit his lip before turning to the kitchenette behind him. He stood up and walked over to the fridge, pulling out batter, eggs, bacon, and a random assortment of breakfast foods.

Within a few minutes, Patton had a fully cooked breakfast for himself and for Virgil. The boy was so small. He needed a nice, home-cooked meal. Patton turned to sew Virgil staring off into space and sat the plates down at the table before walking over to him. After standing in front of Virgil for a moment, Virgil finally looked up at him. Patton simply held his hand out and smiled. Virgil blinked and saw the same sight from the other day in his mind. The moment on the bridge when Patton offered his hand. Virgil took the hand before he realized it and Patton hoisted him up slowly. The baker guided him to the table, not letting go of his hand until Virgil had sat down.

“Do you like milk? Or maybe orange juice?” Patton asked.

“Um, what about apple juice?” Virgil asked sheepishly.

Patton grinned. “I gotcha, kiddo. No worries.” He winked and pulled a small container of apple juice from the fridge. He poured a glass and returned to the table with his own drink and Virgil’s.

As Virgil slowly ate, the food tasting so marvelous he wanted to savor each bite, he felt a sensation building up in his chest. It surrounded his heart, flowing down his arms and into his fingertips. Before he even realized it, he saw drips land on his napkin.

“Oh Virgil…” Patton said softly. “Are you okay?”

Virgil quickly wiped the tears away and continued to eat. “Mhmhmm… sorry.”

Patton shook his head. “No need to be sorry. Just eat up.” He reassured.

Virgil nodded and did as he was told. He couldn’t remember a meal more delicious in his life. Even though it had been made with relative ease, it seemed Patton had put all of his love for cooking into each dish. The eggs were perfectly scrambled and seasoned; bacon burned just a bit more than usual to add extra crunch; the pancakes a beautiful golden brown color and so fluffy. Virgil wasn’t sure if he deserved to eat such nice food, but he wasn’t going to go against Patton.

As the two finished up, Patton began talking about how he needed to open the bakery back up since he had closed it upon finding Virgil. Virgil opened his mouth to apologize but Patton shh-ed him immediately and began to clean up the table. Virgil bit his lip and followed suit. Together, they cleaned the dishes and the table. Virgil glanced up at the clock and it was just nearly 6am. Suddenly a yawn caught him off guard. How was it possible he was still tired?

“You should rest.” Patton chided, pushing him towards the couch. Virgil sat but Patton forced him to lay down. “Passing out isn’t normal so you should take better care of yourself.” Patton was right, of course. So Virgil covered himself in a blanket as Patton left the room. He turned off two rows of lights as he exited. “I’ll be back after we close up. Get some sleep, okay?” Patton’s voice was soft and calm. He smiled gently. Virgil was asleep again before the door closed.

Virgil awoke again to a soft, tapping sound. He peeked to see Patton typing on a calculator with one hand and writing something down with his left. Virgil scrunched his eyes closed tightly before stretching which caught Patton’s attention.

“Good afternoon.” Patton said warmly. “You must’ve been really exhausted to sleep as long as you did.”

Virgil shrugged as he sat up straight and glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:34pm. He turned back to see Patton still adding up something.

“Are you-” Virgil stopped, his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat as Patton giggled, holding an unopened bottle of water towards him. Virgil graciously took it and chugged half. “-already counting your business for the day?”

Patton mhmmed and took a drink of his own water. “Yeah, my bakery is only open for the morning hours. I have to have time to bake and such and most of my employees either can’t work in the afternoon or early morning because of school so I close a bit early to do some of the work myself. Then come back in the morning and do it all again.” He laughed at the last part, but to Virgil it sounded more like an exhausted sigh.

“Do you enjoy it?” Virgil asked. He stood up and sat back down at the table across from Patton.

“Of course.” Patton responded immediately. He dropped his pencil. “The problem isn’t that…” he met eyes with Virgil and smiled a closed eye smile. “I’m just very tired. That’s all.”

Virgil nodded, holding the water bottle in his hand. He squeezed it tightly and opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by a bell sound.

“PATTTTTTTTONNNNNNNN!”

A loud booming voice shouted loud enough to filter to the breakroom. Virgil turned to Patton with wide eyes while Patton only laughed.

“No worries, Virgil. It’s just my friend. His name’s Roman and he’s a bit of a big personality. But that’s why I love him.” Patton reassured with a smile.

Another bell tone sounded but no more shouting happened as a response.

“And that is probably Logan trailing behind Roman.” Patton informed. “They tend to both come here after work and classes respectively. I think you’d like them.” Patton looked at Virgil who looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

Virgil shook his head and stood up. His head went a bit mushy and he grabbed the chair for stability. Patton stood and rushed to Virgil’s side. “Virgil… you should really be careful. You’re still recovering.”

“I need you to help me see them.” Virgil insisted.

Patton raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Um sure okay. I didn’t think you’d actually want to but that’s great.” He put one arm around Virgil’s waist and the other holding Virgil’s hand. “Is this okay?”

Virgil nodded and the two walked out of the breakroom, down a small hallway, and finally through the door to the front desk and dining area.

Sitting at one of the tables were two men. One wore a gray beanie on his head and was dressed in pink and red. He was grinning with his head placed on interwoven fingers staring at the man across from him. The one who was being stared at was ignoring the starer, looking down at his book in his hand. His blue blazer was pressed perfectly and his face was contorted with annoyance.

“Patton! You have a new friend?” The red clad man, Roman, said. He turned to face them.

“Yup! I met him a couple of days ago at the Westward Bridge!” Patton said happily. “I gave him a couple of my favorite donuts and then he found my store here this morning. His name is-”

“Virgil.”

Virgil stared at the blue blazer man who spoke as he stood up. Their eyes met and Patton felt Virgil’s body tense up.

“L…” Virgil said softly.

“You two… know each other?” Roman questioned.

“Yes.” Logan responded firmly. “Roman, Patton: this is my brother, Virgil. The brother I thought disappeared off the face of the earth a few years back.”

A silence fell upon the room as Virgil and Logan awkwardly stared at each other.

Virgil sighed. There was going to be a lot of explaining to do.

[keeroo92]

Crimson Tide Ch5

Chapter Five - Home Sweet Home

______________________________________________________________

---Lady---

September 13th, 5:47 am

The first few rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and streamed through the window to illuminate the sleeping face of Lady in a soft glow. A thin line of drool trailed from her parted lips to puddle on the desk. She turned her head to face away from the bright window and shifted her crossed arms to use them as a pillow as she avoided the pain of being awake.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Lady’s eyes shot open, wakefulness washing over her in an instant as she recognized the sound. She spun so quickly in her chair she almost fell to the floor in her haste to check the screen.

***ENERGY SIGNATURE LOCATED***

Slim fingers flew to the keyboard, and Lady told herself not to get her hopes up as she verified the information. She searched the top three news websites simultaneously and found a single mention of a mysterious amber light hovering outside a candy shop. The article listed the location – Pendleton.

Another portal?! Already?!

She launched herself to her feet and sprinted up the stairs to the bedrooms, shouting at the top of her lungs as she went.

“Wake up! Wake up! We got another portal!”

Within seconds, dark wooden doors were flying open as everyone joined her in the hallway. Nico looked ready to strangle someone at being awake this early, but Lady didn’t care.

“Pendleton!”

A soft gasp drew her eyes to your face. You looked like you’d seen a ghost and licked your lips before speaking. “That’s where my mom lives, it’s just a few hours away!”

You turned around and dashed back into your room to dress, the others following your example a beat later. Lady still wore her clothes from yesterday, so she ran downstairs to pack everyone’s weapons and grab the bags in the hall closet. By the time everyone else was ready to go, she had the van started and was busily pacing beside it, chewing the nail on her index finger as the seconds ticked by.

Come on, come on! We gotta hurry!

A yawning Nico took the wheel with an energy drink in hand, already opened and half empty. Lady took the passenger seat and you, V, Kyrie and Trish piled into the back. The van squealed out onto the main road, barreling down the asphalt toward your goal.

 _____________________________________________________________

---Reader---

For the second time in two days, you sat beside V on the couch as the clattering of the van echoed in the surrounding air. There was an aura of something you couldn’t identify, a scent or emotion permeating the small space.

You fixed your thoughts on your mother. All the gates you’d seen so far had allowed demons to cross; depending on where in the city this one was, she might be in danger. You pulled out your cell to call her, warn her to be on guard and maybe even take a day trip, but she didn’t answer.

It is early… she’s probably still sleeping.

You fidgeted anxiously and tried again, with the same result. As you lowered the small device, the low hum you’d heard less than twenty four hours ago returned, stronger than yesterday. It was almost painful and you rubbed your temples to ease the ache, putting your phone away.

What’s happening to me? This is the second time…

“Are you all right, love?”

You dropped your hands and smiled at V. He was observing you, his eyes showing his concern.

“Yeah, just a headache. I think.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You think?”

The hum pulsed suddenly and you closed your eyes as a wave of dizziness rushed through you.  Urgency followed in its wake, as if you were running out of time. V extended an arm to steady you as you wavered. His look of worry intensified as you struggled to regain your equilibrium.

You ended up clinging to his arm for dear life as Nico slammed the brakes, making the van screech to a stop.

“This is it, y’all!”

The hum in your mind rose in pitch until it stopped. You looked out the window and caught sight of the portal, and your heart dropped like a stone. It was only three feet high and already closing. You were too late.

Again.

I don’t see any demons. Maybe that means mom is safe?

Lady cursed from her spot up front with Nico, the southern mechanic’s own expletives following a beat after. Kyrie scowled at their language but said nothing, wrapping her arms around herself instead. Trish sighed, her shoulders sagging as she reached the same conclusion you did. She looked thoughtful, as if something was troubling her and she couldn’t quite figure it out.

The six of you watched in disappointed silence as the small portal shrank and winked out of existence, standing guard in case something made it through. V kept a careful eye on you the entire time and you tried to hide the wince of pain as the portal vanished.

He’s going to want answers, but I don’t have any. What the hell is happening to me?

“We’ve gone weeks without seeing a single gateway, but now there’s been two in as many days. Something strange is going on,” Trish announced.

“Like what?” Nico asked.

“I’m not sure yet, but my best guess is there’s been an increase in activity in the Underworld. Could be Dante and Nero stirring the pot.”

“So, they’re alive!” Lady cried from the front.

Kyrie smiled widely, letting out a long breath as she lowered her arms. “That sounds like them. If they keep it up, it’s only a matter of time before we find a usable portal.”

“The lions lash their wrathful tails,” V recited with a smirk.

Nico cheered, vocalizing the joy and relief that each of the six felt. To have even this slim evidence that your two friends were not only alive, but still fighting lifted a portion of the weight off your shoulders. Yet you couldn’t relax, still consumed with worry for your mother.

“Right, guess we better head back so we can find the next one!” Nico said, starting the van.

“I need to check on my mother, first.”

“We should get back, we can’t afford to miss our chance,” Lady countered.

“It won’t take long, and she might be in danger. All the portals have been local, within driving distance. I have to warn her to get out of the area before it’s too late.”

“So call her, why waste time by going in person?”

“Lady! I can’t believe you’d say such a horrible thing!” Kyrie scolded.

“What? It’s the truth!”

V stood, taking the focus onto himself as he spoke. “I’ll take her. You all go ahead, we’ll catch up later.”

Thank you.

“Works for me,” Lady said. You tried not to glare at her, even though you understood where she was coming from. It still hurt.

“See ya in a bit! Be careful!” Nico called out from the drivers’ seat. You waved back and followed V outside, pausing to watch the van drive away with a chuckle as it swerved across the lanes.

“Shall we? You’ll have to lead, of course.”

You smiled and took V’s hand, already knowing which way to go. This was home, the town you spent several of your teenage years in after Lara died. It was as familiar to you as the back of your hand, and you easily navigated toward the house you remembered so fondly. Along the way, V kept throwing sidelong glances at you until you couldn’t stand it anymore.

“What?”

He gripped your palm tighter, grimacing as you caught him in the middle of his strange behavior.

“I’m worried about you. What happened in the van?”

You sighed heavily and dropped his hand to cross your arms over your chest protectively. The hum made no sense to you, and it scared you. It set your teeth on edge, made you feel like there was something about it that was just plain wrong.

“I… I don’t know how to explain it.”

V reached out to grasp your shoulder, gently pulling you to a nearby bench to sit and talk. He waited while you gathered your thoughts, holding his hands in his lap. You saw his tattoos shifting on his forearms, showing that Griffon was active in his mind, probably offering his take on the situation.

Just spit it out. This is V, there’s no reason to be scared.

You swallowed nervously and lowered your eyes to stare at your knees. It made no sense to you; you trusted him with your life, with your heart, why was it so hard to tell him about this?

“I’ve been hearing… a weird noise when we get close to portals. A humming sound, like vibrations. It’s getting stronger, and today it hurt a little when the portal closed,” you whispered.

His hands moved out of your line of sight to rest on your shoulders, sliding down as you uncrossed your arms. He took your palms in his and squeezed, offering his support.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, little fox?” The tone of his voice sounded so hurt and worried it made you bite your lip as you met his emerald eyes.

“It scared me. I don’t know what’s happening to me, I was hoping it would just go away.”

He sighed and pulled you closer until you were leaning on his chest, his arms around you as you listened to his heartbeat. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head and stroked your hair, and you felt the tension lessen with his tenderness.

“I suppose I can understand that, though I do wish you’d trusted me with this sooner.”

You shifted closer to him and wrapped your arms around his familiar frame, murmuring an apology. He hummed his acknowledgement and planted a second kiss on your scalp.

“It’s all right. We’ll figure it out together. You’ll tell me if it happens again, yes?”

You nodded, a relieved smile on your lips. Another few minutes passed in silence as you cocooned yourself in his love, marveling at how lucky you were to have him.

Pendleton came to life around you as residents began their days. A few of the shops nearby lit their OPEN signs and a few scattered pedestrians made their way to work. The smell of baking bread tickled your nose as the bakery across the street opened its doors, bacon soon joining it from the café next door.

“We should get moving,” you said. V nodded his agreement and released you, offering his arm to help you rise alongside him.

You were only a few blocks away from the house, and within ten minutes you spotted the familiar white porch.

“This is it.”

V didn’t reply except to squeeze your hand in encouragement, following you forward. You hid your sword in a large shrub, knowing it would scare your mom to see you with a weapon right off the bat.

The pathway to the front door appeared exactly as it had for years. The small yard was recently groomed, the grass freshly cut and shrubs pruned. It didn’t look like anything had been damaged or attacked, and your mom’s car still sat in the driveway. You breathed a sigh of relief and dropped V’s hand to knock.

The door flew open before you had the chance. Your mom pulled you into a crushing hug as she soared out to meet you.

“Honey! What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

You laughed, overjoyed to find her well. The tendrils of your fear for her shrank into nothingness as you smelled her hair and held her close. She released you with a sigh, and only then seemed to notice V standing beside you awkwardly, hands folded behind his back.

“Mom, this is V. My partner.”

He extended one hand to her with a smile. She hesitated for a moment before returning his gesture and the two shook hands.

“A pleasure,” V said.

“Likewise! Come in, come in! I was just about to make breakfast.”

She stepped inside and gave you a quizzical glance. You knew exactly what she was thinking. V looked unlike anyone else you’d ever brought home, and she was sure to have questions. You’d told her about him, of course, but seeing him in the flesh would likely raise new doubts in her mind.

“Are you two hungry? I can throw on a few extra eggs,” she asked as you reached the breakfast nook just off the kitchen.

“That sounds lovely. Would you like any help?” V replied. You smirked as her face lit up at the mere offer, but her response didn’t surprise you in the slightest.

“Thank you, but it’s just eggs. You sit down, let me get you something to drink.”

She busied herself at the fridge as V joined you, and you had to fake a cough as his clammy hand took yours. It was oddly charming that he was so nervous to meet your mom; the sheer normalcy of it caught you off guard.

“So how did you two meet?”

Hoo boy…

You shared an amused glance at V as you chose your words.

“He saved my life, the day of the attack on Red Grave a few months ago. He was one of the people I traveled with afterward.”

Your mother’s smile fractured as you reminded her of how much danger you’d been in recently and her hands shook as she brought over two glasses of iced tea. She pursed her lips and met his eyes.

“Then thank you. Though I must say, I’m not a fan of how Y/N stayed in the city. Why didn’t you bring her to safety?”

V’s hand tightened its grip on yours as he responded, his voice betraying none of his discomfort.

“I offered several times, but she refused. Insisted on helping me and my allies. It’s not an exaggeration to say she repaid me and saved my life in return.”

Your mom glared at you, making her displeasure at your choices clear. You met her gaze. You refused to feel guilty or ashamed of your actions, not when it had brought you and V together. She sighed and turned back to the stove to start the eggs.

“Look, mom… we’re here for a reason. What happened in Red Grave, it could happen again here. It looks like it will, soon. I want you to go visit Grandma or something. Leave town for a while.”

She faced you as she stirred the eggs with her spatula, scrambling them efficiently. “What did happen in Red Grave? The news never got the full story.”

Shit. She won’t go unless she has a good reason. How can I make her believe demons are real?

She’ll never believe me without proof.

You shared a glance with V and he nodded, understanding without a word.

“I’ll explain after breakfast, it’s a bit complicated,” he said.

She pursed her lips again, displeased. The next few minutes passed in silence, only the sizzling of the eggs frying filling the awkward tension. You knew your mom, knew she wouldn’t let this go until she had answers. There was no point trying to distract her when she got like this, and as she served breakfast you tried to explain.

“I promise we’ll tell you everything, mom. You know I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”

Her lips relaxed and she rested a hand on your shoulder.

“I know, sweetie. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Eat up, I want this explanation you promised me,” she said. Her smile as she sat made it clear she was partly teasing, but beneath the surface it was obvious how serious she was.

You obliged, taking the first bite of eggs. The flavor was like a taste of childhood, the cheese she used the same one as when you were growing up. Nostalgia filled you, missing the simplicity from so long ago. Before life had forced you to grow up so quickly.

V hummed contentedly with his first bite, swallowing before making a comment.

“I see now where Y/N gets her cooking skills. Thank you for breakfast.”

Your mom smiled at him, his charm starting to win her over. She waved a hand as if to dismiss his words. “They’re just eggs, dear. You should see what I can do with a casserole.”

“I’d very much like to,” he replied courteously, then took another bite.

The three of you ate quickly and within minutes you were taking the plates to the sink. You weren’t entirely sure how V planned to explain the demon attack, but you had some guesses.

I hope he doesn’t break anything…

You led the two of them to the backyard, glad to see the various trees and shrubs still kept it mostly out of view of the neighbors. Your mother looked at you expectantly, waiting. You shared another glance with V and opened your mouth to begin.

“What if I told you demons were real?”

“I’d ask you what drugs you were on,” she scoffed.

You sighed. It didn’t surprise you that it came to this, but still…

“V, can you please summon Nightmare? Carefully, please.”

He nodded and indicated for you two to step back. Your mom watched him in curious fascination as he raised his hand over his head and snapped, her eyes going wide as the black shards lifted from his hair to reveal the snowy locks beneath. The ground before you began to bubble with Nightmare’s arrival, and she yelped as it rose.

“Mom, it’s okay. It won’t hurt us.”

She looked terrified, but she didn’t run away as the golem formed, its one eye gazing at her in what you thought might be interest. Or maybe curiosity. It was so hard to tell.

“This is Nightmare. It’s one of three demons V can summon. It’s friendly, if you want a closer look,” you explained. You took her hand and despite her fear, your mom allowed you to lead her forward. Once you were close enough, you pulled her palm out to touch the rocky form of Nightmare. She glanced up at it as if expecting it to attack her for her insolence, but it only gazed back at her blankly.

“A… a demon… so, the rumors are true?”

You nodded and she wavered, her extended arm trembling as she tried to accept the truth standing before her.

“The attack on Red Grave was the work of the demon king, Urizen. We ended the crisis by ending him,” V added.

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Are you saying you… you fight these things?”

You took her hand off Nightmare, holding it in your own as you responded in the affirmative. She wobbled again and you led her to one of the chairs nearby, helping her settle against the metal.

V released his hold on Nightmare and the massive creature bubbled into nothingness, returning his hair to its obsidian hue. Your mother flinched visibly.

V strode over to join you, watching her with concern etched across his features. She was handling the revelations better than you’d expected, but you knew from personal experience how disorienting it was to discover the truth. In her mind, you knew she was reassessing her very understanding of the world, updating it to include this new information.

“How do you fight them? You’re a nurse! You’re supposed to heal people, not fight evil!” she burst out.

“V? Could you…?”

He nodded and turned to fetch your sword. While he was away, you crouched in front of your mom and held her hands in your own.

“I don’t know what to think. Did he drag you into this?”

Oh, mom…

“No. Demons attacked me, and he saved my life. I had every opportunity to walk away, and he was the one to offer them. I chose to stay, I chose to fight. You know me, you know I can’t just watch people get hurt.”

She lifted her eyes to meet yours, her gaze still confused and terrified. “What if you’re the one who gets hurt?”

V returned with your sword before you could answer her. She gasped as you took the sheathed jian from him and strapped it home on your waist. You drew the blade and presented it to your mom. She stared at it.

“This is how I stay safe. I’ve been training with it for months.”

“You should show her, love.”

Good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?

You stepped back to a safe distance and dropped into your standard stance, holding the blade in a guard position. The familiar motions helped you forget where you were as you shifted through several maneuvers Trish had taught you, thrusting and dodging and blocking as you danced across the grass. You imagined a Caina attacking and blocked it, following with a swift strike as you released a battle cry. By the time you finished your display, your chest was heaving and sweat dripped down your face.

You returned to V and your mother, sheathing the blade as you took in her expression of utter shock.

“You… I… that was… wow.”

You fought back your laughter and pulled over another pair of chairs for you and V to sit upon. Content to wait for her inevitable questions, you gradually slowed your breathing until it was back to a normal pace. V handed you a napkin he’d picked up somewhere and you wiped the perspiration from your face with a silent thank you.

“So… why’s it dangerous to stay?” she asked finally.

You sighed.

“Because demons can cross through portals from the Underworld, and we’ve been seeing more and more of them in the area. We’re doing everything possible to keep them from hurting anyone, but we can only do so much.”

“When will it be safe again?”

V pushed the hair out of his eyes and answered for you. “When we get our friends back. They’re trapped on the other side.”

Your mom froze, staring at V incredulously.

“You aren’t going after them, are you?”

“That’s the plan,” you replied.

And with that, your mother started to cry.

______________________________________________________________

---V---

V watched in silence as you hugged your mother, his heart aching with jealousy. He struggled to keep his mind in the moment. Thoughts of his own mother were flitting through his mind like fireflies, begging for attention.

This is not the time.

He didn’t know how he could help right now. The lack of his usual assuredness and composure felt strange to him, uncomfortable, but he refused to let it keep him from being there with you.

Your mother eventually quieted, wiping her tears away with a sniffle. She locked eyes with you and spoke.

“Can you get us some water, sweetie?”

You smiled and turned away, leaving him alone with your mother. The instant you were out of sight, she faced him with an intense glare.

“You… if she gets hurt, if she… doesn’t make it back, I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy you. You protect her, got it?”

Ha, she sounds just like Nero! If you screw this up, you’re gonna have a full-blown mob hunting you down, Shakespeare!

So it would seem.

He sighed and looked at his hands, hiding behind his hair.

“There would be nothing left to destroy. I would sooner die than allow her to come to harm. For every thing that lives is holy, but she is the most precious of all.”

“She’d better be. What are your plans with her in the future?”

Damn, she’s not pulling any punches! You should tell her you wanna make babies with her daughter! Oh, and that you’ve been practicing!

Hush, you’re not helping.

Griffon sent an image of you with a round belly, swollen with the growth of his child. He sent back an image of himself dragging Griffon by the legs toward a cooking pit and the mouthy bird faded into the background of his thoughts.

V blushed, all the dreams and hopes he’d allowed himself to indulge coming to mind in a flash. He forced his head to rise and met her gaze, his honesty plain to see in the tint of his cheeks.

“I plan to make her as happy as I can. I hope to someday call her wife, if she’ll have me.”

Your mother’s eyes shifted, from suspicion to warmth as she reached out to squeeze his hand. The gesture shocked him, but her words left him speechless.

“Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for her to be happy. She took Lara’s disappearance so hard, I don’t think she ever got over it. If you can bring her joy, you have my approval.”

She paused, a mischievous smile crossing her lips as she added, almost as an afterthought, “Judging by the way she looks at you, she’d marry you today if you asked.”

His mouth popped open in surprise, but you returned with three precariously balanced glasses of water before V could respond. You handed one to each of them and your mother gave him a final knowing smile as she sipped.

A moment passed as V forced himself to focus, to not get distracted by your mother’s words. It proved to be a challenge, especially when Griffon sent an image of your face stretched in a delighted grin as his tattooed fingers slid an engagement ring on your finger.

Behave, or I’ll let Shadow sit on you.

The panther purred her approval and Griffon quieted once more.

“I’d better pack a bag. How long should I plan on being away?” your mother asked suddenly. V saw your face fall.

“I don’t know. It could be awhile, our friends have already been trapped for a few months,” you responded, setting down your glass. Your mother sighed, but nodded.

“It’s a good thing I can work remotely. I’m going to go call your grandmother, see if she’s up for a visit.”

With that, she stood and walked into the house, leaving you and V alone. You spoke first.

“That went better than I expected. Did you guys talk while I was inside?”

Oh boy, did they ever!

V ignored the jibe, choosing to spend his attention on you instead. He had no idea how long one normally waited before proposing, but his gut told him it was far too soon. Perhaps he’d ask Nero when they found him? The image Griffon had sent him wouldn’t leave his mind, the future he so desperately wanted so achingly possible if you two got past this last obstacle.

“A bit. She asked me to protect you,” he said.

You smirked knowingly. “That sounds like my mom. She seemed calmer when I got back, what did you say?”

He reached out and took your hand, stroking the back of your palm as you waited for his answer.

“I told her the truth. That I would rather die than see you hurt.”

The look in your eyes stole his breath away, so full of adoration and warmth. V still didn’t think he deserved you, he doubted he ever would. But he was too selfish to let you go.

“I love you, my poet, but I’d rather get hurt than see you die.”

He chuckled, leaning closer to rest his forehead on yours.

“Aren’t we a pair, then?”

You hummed your agreement, but it became a sharp gasp as your hands flew to your temples. You clenched your eyes shut in pain, hunching inwards in a display of defensiveness.

“What’s wrong? Is it that sound?”

“Yes… it hurts so much more than earlier. What the hell is happening to me, V?”

Your expression broke his heart, so full of agony and confusion. He wrapped his arms around you and did his best to offer his reassurance. He searched his mind for a clue, an idea of what was happening, but he had nothing. All he could do was hold you and whisper empty words of comfort.

[antiquechampagne]

Divine Inspiration

The morning breeze carried the honeyed scent of the nearby roses mixed with fresh earth through Barbara’s open window. She woke early, just as the sun warmed the horizon to get a start on the day’s baking. Taking stock of her wares, she realized a trip to the trader was in order. After the first batch of pretzels was out of the oven and cooling, she made her way over.

“Good morrow, Barbara! What do you need today?” Kornelius saddled up to the table laden with wares.

“Can I get a bag of flour, please?”

“Sure thing. Anything else? Maybe some salt? Sugar?” His words had a bit of a sting to them and he knew it. Barbara’s reputation preceded her, as it did everywhere in Pribyslavitz.

She huffed.

“Just the flour, then.” Groschen quickly changed hands.

Barbara headed back to her shop, her cheeks burning.

She puttered around the shop, keeping her hands busy while her mind stewed. Sugar! Really?! She could bake dozens of pretzels faster than anyone around could and they tasted exquisite… but there was one thing that eluded her. One prize that seemed forever out of her reach… she could not for the life of her bake a proper biscuit. Every time she tried, she would end up with a lump of pallid flavorless dough or a burned chunk of coal. She had all but given up ever figuring out how to create a sweet treat.

The bell above the door rang as a familiar customer entered. Barbara managed to have a smile by the time he greeted her.

“God save you, Tom.”

“And you.” He eyed her wares while stroking his luxuriously thick mustache. If it wasn’t for all the dice he played, Barbara would have considered Tom to be quite a catch. She forced herself to focus. No use getting distracted in front of a customer.

He picked up a fresh pretzel after haggling for a minute. As he popped a corner in his mouth, his finger raised up as if remembering something important. “Just a fair warning,” He mumbled in between bites. “The bailiff might be on his way. I saw him walking down the road.”

Barbara’s heart sank. She thanked Tom for his patronage as she ushered him out of the shop. Peeking beyond her door, she saw the Bailiff’s silhouette far down the rutty road. His armor shone as he waved a greeting to the people passing him in the street.

Barbara slammed the door shut, pressing herself against the wood. She wasn't ready to endure the bailiff and his incipient disappointment again. It was like this endless ritual. He would burst through her door, scrutinize her offerings and then leave in a huff over the lack of sweet confections—day after day.

She couldn't deal with it today—it was just too much. Barbara opened the door a sliver to spy the Bailiff jovially entering another shop across. Now was her chance. She slipped out and bolted the door behind her.

Her nerves were raw. Perhaps a nice walk in the woods could soothe her. The minutes trickled in a steady stream. She felt that the farther she wandered from home, the calmer her spirit became. She knew not to ramble too far. Bandits and Cumans hid in the woods to attack unlucky travelers. The sun rose high in the sky, its warmth pressing its balmy weight on her shoulders.

At an intersection, a familiar conciliation cross greeted her. Needing a rest, she sat on a nearby log. She thought long and hard about all the biscuit recipes she had tried over the year she had been the baker in Pribyslavitz, and each time she failed. Barbara offered a heartfelt prayer that God would somehow grant her the grace to finally create an eatable confection.

Rested, she rose to continue her stroll when her foot caught on something in the grass. Stumbling, she landed on her knees.

"Damn it." At least the bailiff wasn't around to see her fail again.

Before she could rise to her feet, her eyes fell upon the object that had tripped her. To her surprise, she spied a wooden box wedged beneath the log where she had sat. Intrigued, she tried to pull it free, but it refused to budge. After giving the log a good shove with her shoulder, she managed to free the box, pulling it onto her lap.

Barbara felt compelled by some outside force to open it. Luckily, the lock had long since rusted away, leaving it easy to pop open with a deft thump with a nearby rock. Lifting the lid, she found a single book. Its leather cover was intricately carved ivy with tufts of feathery wheat intertwined. In the center, crowned with a buzzing beehive, was a stately oven surrounded by loaves of bread, cakes, and buns.

Barbara delicately opened the book to pages filled with beautiful script and dotted with numerous detailed illuminations.

She cursed under her breath. She had no bloody idea how to read.

---

By the time she had returned home, she was exhausted, though more mentally than physically. Opening her shop, she soon found a rush of people through her door. She figured most were trying to finish their daily shopping and she had become their last stop to get a few loaves before heading home for supper. Happily, Barbara realized as she closed for the night that the bailiff seemed to have better things to do than food shopping.

Her mind returned to the mysterious book. She turned the pages absentmindedly as she ate her own dinner of lentil mash and hearty bread, studying the drawings to see if they held any clues to the contents of the pages. Unfortunately, none were forthcoming.

Discouraged, Barbara pondered about who might help her decipher the text... without charging too much. She spent the remainder of the night cleaning the shop before heading to bed, the book tucked neatly beneath her pillow. She would have to find a safer hiding spot for such a valuable item, but until then she wasn't going to leave it too far from her side.

As the pale moon arched across the sky, Barbara began to dream. She found herself in a quiet chapel in the woods surrounded by dozens of frozen figures, stately frescos staring at her with their unmoving eyes.

The belching blast of an alien-sounding trumpet abruptly broke the silence. Startled, Barbara looked up to see the wall glowing with a golden light. Out stepped a figure.

“Quiet, Boris,” it said. “And go and get a tissue.”

“Who are you?” Barbara blurted.

“I am Saint Honoratus of Amiens!”

Barbara quickly crossed herself as she knelt, bowing her head. God had truly sent her a boon in the patron saint of bakers. In their right hand, they held a golden baker’s shovel.

“Glory be to God! He has sent me a sign!”

"To be honest, we thought the recipe book would be enough. We normally don't send anyone on a personal intervention like this but someone forgot to check if to see if you could read."

The trumpet emitted an annoyed-sounding blurt. Barbara looked away confused, feeling she might be intruding on some otherworldly spat.

"But that is neither here nor there," the saint continued. They lowered the golden shovel to reveal a trio of perfectly round pale biscuits. A small heart cut in the middle exposed a red center. "These, Barbara—Baker of Biscuit Town—are Jammie Dodgers. These are God's gift to you."

A holy hand burned Barbara's forehead.

---

Barbara woke with a start, gasping as her mind buzzed and churned with godly knowledge. Even though the sun had yet to start to rise, Barbara began to prepare. She found her larder filled with every ingredient she needed, even though part of her knew she had never seen some of them in any market. As the town woke around her, she hardly noticed the bustling outside her windows as she stirred and mixed, kneaded and baked.

She pulled sheets and sheets from the oven, soon realizing she had nowhere to place the hot biscuits to cool. Looking around, the only place to put them was her display tables... which were still filled with yesterday’s leftover pretzels. In a fit, she opened a shutter and tossed them all into the street, her only worry the creation of these divinely perfect confections.

Like a woman possessed, she worked tirelessly, forgoing food and water in her quest. She wiped sweat from her eyes as she positioned each faultless biscuit on her table.

Suddenly, the bailiff burst into the bakery.

"It's I, Henry! Bailiff of Biscuit To-" Henry stopped, his boisterous entrance arrested by a wall of sweet-smelling treats. His eyes went wide as scanned the table laden with row after row of shortbread framed red hearts.

"Barbara?" he gasped. "What are these?"

Barbara puffed up with pride. "Why, Sir Henry, have you never seen a biscuit before?" She couldn't help but direct a small jab at the bailiff, but he seemed too shocked to notice. He stood, unmoving. "Well, try one, good man! You shan't leave me in suspense any longer!"

Henry carefully took a bite, crumbs catching in his bushy beard. Barbara held her breath. In her fervor, she had forgotten to actually taste the biscuits as she was creating them.

A huge grin spread across Henry's face. "At last, we have a proper biscuit in Biscuit Town! God be praised!"

---

Author’s Notes: I wrote this fic for a wonderful Youtuber (Sexy Biscuit) who does a great job of showcasing Kingdom Come: Deliverance. Their channel is amazing, as well as the game. They bemoaned that there was barely any fan fic out there for KCD, so I wrote them some. I hope they enjoy it!

[coyotebombsquad]

Bikepacking down the California Coast

Words and photos by C.J. Foster

Prologue:

Last April, I was transitioning between jobs and scored nearly two weeks off; enough time to throw together an adventure -- something that would offer a moment to reflect, reset, and prepare for the road ahead.

I set out for the California coast. I rented a car and drove to Crescent City (20 miles shy of Oregon). This is where I would begin my real journey -- pedaling home to San Francisco -- a grand total of 420 miles and 32K of elevation, after all was said and done.

Leaving behind the city, I began to feel a quiet peace settle upon me. It was the sense that a chapter had ended and a new one was beginning. There were big changes to ruminate on, something that journeying through forests helps coax along, but still I was eager, anxious, and nervous about taking on a solo trip of this magnitude.

Day 0 (SF to Crescent City -- 355mi + 100 bonus miles due to rerouting )

Heavy rain was in the forecast; just what California needed to replenish our depleted water table and reservoirs. More roads were washed out with each downpour, serving a deterrent for this bike packing trip. Despite poor conditions, I retrieved my rental car, picked up some last minute provisions, and impulsively purchased a quality point and shoot while on a lunch pitstop at In N Out -- this wouldn’t be a road trip without it.

I crossed my fingers that the rain wouldn’t be too bad or last too long.

While on the road, worst case scenarios played out in my mind and doubts churned in my head. Questions about my fitness levels, on-the-fly bike maintenance, and my safety all nagged at me. I have taken numerous solo trips before, but I was still greeted by familiar doubts. I warded off these old friends and pushed the accelerator, willing this trip into fruition.

A landslide had occurred the night before just North of Leggett, which closed highway 1 (just North of where 101 merged with 1). I thought I could outsmart the landslide and the CHP by taking a route that I found on my phone, but the locals and tow trucks dissuaded me. There were potholes that my rental car wouldn’t negotiate successfully. A CHP officer suggested that I drive back to highway 20 and cutover to highway 5 and back on highway 36 -- an extra 7-8 hours of driving to get around one landslide. I was highly motivated to find an alternate route and was successful! There are some windy gravel mountain roads that cut through Covolo to Zenia off highway 162. They were sketchy, pocked with potholes, and many blind corners had cattle hanging around them. Nearly 4 hours and 135 miles later, I was dropped back onto 101. Just in time for a wild downpour to obscure my visibility nearly entirely for the last two hours of my drive. As the wipers whipped away, there were a few moments that I questioned if I should abort the trip and go find a B&B somewhere to lounge around and take it easy. Where’s the adventure in that though?

I made it to Crescent City after numerous bursts of sketchy downpours and 11 hours of driving. At a cheap hotel, I took the last hot shower that I’d have in several days and drank an IPA to settle all my nerves from the drive.

Day 1 (Crescent City to Clam Beach) -- 75mi/4.2k ft

https://www.strava.com/activities/948298792

When you roll out of bed and see your bike next to you, you know it’s going to be a good day. The storm had ended (for now). I returned the car at the world’s tiniest commercial airport after running a few last minute errands (patch kit and lighter are crucial). A polite and professional looking middle aged woman in a knee high skirt helped check the car back in. As I went to check the mileage a man with a mangled undercarriage came driving back up with a dumbfounded expression -- the cowling of the car was dragging on the ground, making an infernal noise. The rental car woman casually walked back in to grab a pair of tin snips. When she returned, she squatted down and removed the offending piece, then informed the man that he was all set. What service!

From there, I was free, off on my two wheels, fully supported. The day was sunny, dry, and a bit windy, but still gorgeous. The road felt solid under my self-propelled vehicle; my legs marginally ready for the physical challenges ahead. The cliffs along the ocean fell away like they had been cleaved by the great Paul Bunyan himself. The ocean would be my comfort, my well of motivation for the next several hundred miles.

The miles of coastline stretched endlessly in front of me. I rolled along undulating roads that led to tiny coastal towns; nearly forgotten, yet timeless. The forest stood sentry over the towns, over the coast, and over me.  

Several hours of headwinds and roughly 40 miles in, I stopped in Klamath Falls to admire the 40 ft tall Paul Bunyan and Babe the Big Blue Ox. It dwarfed me and my bike. My hunger had built, so I indulged in a plate full of chili fries and a sandwich at a nearby cafe in False Klamath; got to love being a cyclist, you can eat anything and it’s all considered fuel for the next ride. I had been cruising at 13 MPH, slow and steady, and this would be pretty much the fixed speed that I’d be moving at most of the trip.

After lunch, there were a few decent climbs: one up to Prairie Creek Redwoods and another out towards the stunning Patricks Point. A few lagoons loomed in the distance, they distracted me well enough for about 10 miles as I rounded my way to the campground.

I landed in Clam Beach State Campground after deciding to press on passed Patricks Point (my original stopping point for the day). The tent was a small project, as it was my first time pitching this new 1p tent, which proved to be a trivial task. The hunger was driving me to skip the backpacking meal and opt for some pizza at a local joint in McKinleyville. The kids working did not care if I brown-bagged it while eating a few slices in their store -- likely not their first dirtbag cyclist. Four slices and a 22oz of IPA prepped me pretty well for passing out. There was a slow ambling pedal along the airport road that led me back to camp. A few small planes landed during the sunset and I soaked in how light everything felt, nothing was tugging at me or compelling me to do or be anywhere, I was exactly where I needed to be.

Day 2 - Clam Beach Campground to A.W. Way County Park (Mattole Road) -- 75mi/5k ft

https://www.strava.com/activities/949287569 https://www.strava.com/activities/950851373

The first light of the morning woke me and I felt rested. I wanted to get an early start on the morning since rain was in the forecast, but not until afternoon. I planned on covering a fair amount of ground before the rain came (hah). As I packed up, my camp neighbors warmly offered me a cup of coffee, they lived locally and told me they were getting ready for work -- made me reminisce about camping up at Hawk Camp back home during a work night. The kindness of strangers would be a recurring theme during my trip.

Breakfast was eaten on the bike; the convenience of a breakfast burrito and a chocolate milk on the road. It conjures up an image of a train engineer shoveling coal into his engine to keep it chugging along. The morning was beautiful, I mostly pedaled by coastal farmlands and a smattering of small towns. The headwinds were ever-present, but I felt strong nonetheless. I caught up to another cyclist in Eureka who looked like he was out bikepacking with his loaded panniers, I excitedly asked him where he was off to. He was commuting to work and wasn’t on much of a journey. I wouldn’t encounter another cyclist until my last days of riding.

The farm roads gracefully lead me to Ferndale (my halfway point for the day) where I loaded up on provisions. While visiting a grocery store, I absentmindedly left my sunglasses on a rack and left for a pastry and coffee (I retrieved them). A local who had been in the store had noticed me down the street and flatly observed “you didn’t make it very far” when he saw me in front of the bakery. I’ll call that small town humor.

The climb out of Ferndale was absolutely brutal. It felt like hitting a vertical wall and only the powers of levitation would be able to lift me up the ridgeline that I was attempting. I was desperate to move quickly, but humbled by the aggressive grade and the howling winds at the top of the climb. The threat of rain was no longer merely a threat, I donned my rain gear quickly and prayed that I’d stay dry and cool enough to finish out the next 30 miles. From Ferndale, I covered about 4.2k ft in 35 miles. Brutal with packs, brutal without them.

Needle like rain stung my face for over an hour, my amusement during this section quickly changed. A sketchy winding descent led into Capetown, where I lost one of my water bottles and I narrowly missed being crushed under a dump truck’s wheels. The trucker that was just a tad too comfortable with the roads and cyclists on them.

Following the descent into a cove, a local in a green Tacoma stopped ahead of me and dangled a construction high-visibility vest out of his truck window and stated “dude, you need this!” His name was Oliver, and again, strangers with endless kindness had been looking out for me with safety and hydration (Oliver gave me a water bottle to replace mine, it was even alkaline, for sensitive stomachs). My flickering flame was ablaze for the adventurous path again.

A few miles ahead there was the town of Petrolia with a little gem of a bar called White Rose. I saddled up at the bar to wait out the storm. A beer would revive my sense of humor and the locals were entertained by my very presence. Who bikepacks in the rain, they asked? A few randos contributed to a hot shower fund in their own amusement since AW Way Campground had a coin-op hot shower. The kindness of strangers also contributed another gift from Humboldt county too, a special little doobie hand rolled under the bar. Despite the fact that it had only been two days of pedaling, I felt the beginnings of loneliness assuaged by strangers. I was striving to stay open to any experience along this road.

The campsite was a few flat miles from The Rose (as the locals referred to it), I even turned down several ride offers, told them that this was my journey to power. The campground boasted 30 soggy sites, they were all empty, so I had my choice. The hot shower was restorative, a bit of magic for a renewal that I would need for tomorrow.

Day 3 (AW Way Campground to Wright Beach 76mi/10.3k ft via Usal Road)

https://www.strava.com/activities/950851391 https://www.strava.com/activities/951928834

There’s always an odd sense of waking up in a campground without anyone else around; it’s a bit eerie, but also deeply peaceful. Rested, I packed up and hit the road, noticing a new lovely creaking noise my bottom bracket had developed due to all of the rain.

The plan was to take Mattole Road and connect to Usal road despite most people informing me that Usal road was still closed, but I felt that I didn’t have much of a choice since the reroute due to all the highway road closures would climb up and over Garberville and add an extra 70-80 miles (I had no idea how much climbing it would add). The folks from the White Rose had informed me that the Bryceland Market would be a good place to stop for food and road intel.

Still groggy with sleep encrusted eyes, I rounded a bend, and from the shoulder of the road a blur of black streaked ahead and veered into the center of the road and turned around to face me. It was a bull, of sizable proportions! He pawed at the ground as if to feign a charge. This frightened me, but I took comfort in the fact he didn’t have horns, nor did he have testicles (minor thing noted when he ran ahead of me), but I was leery of this 1500lb bulldozer and hoping he wasn’t too aggressive. I stopped about 50 yards away from him, facing him down like it was a standoff (it felt like a David and Goliath faceoff). I first yelled at him, then rang my bell, tossed small rocks in his direction to get him to move out of the road. He wasn’t budging. Then I thought to channel my inner cowboy spirit, and boldly rode towards him, yelling at the top of my lungs “GO ON, GEEEIIT!!”. This magically compelled him to turnaround and he trotted in the direction that I was rolling in. My inner childhood cowboy was giddy and terrified all at the same time. Such power I yielded. The bull veered off the side of the road before we got to a cattle catcher and I was free from my escort/keeper. I pedaled off to safety, and continued binging on serial killer podcasts, such a odd choice for a sojourn on desolate mountain roads.

Honeydew was a good restocking point where I pounded yogurt like it was water. They had a map of the area and informed me that Usal road was still closed, but I should check in with the BLM office in King’s Range. Just outside of Honeydew, there is a massive climb that aggressively stretches up to King Peak. It humbled me. I stopped several times to give my knees a break and to lube my chain. At one mini pitstop, a local named Grant stopped to check in on me, and I informed him that I was ok, and instead of speeding off to his day, he casually chatted with me for a few minutes. I inquired about Usal road, but he didn’t know much about its current state. The next several hours were a virtual elevator of careening ridgelines, towering forests, washed out roads, and serial killer podcasts.

Dropping into Thorn Junction, I crossed paths with Grant again, he was hauling a load in his truck, and chatted with me briefly and offered up an apple juice. I was thankful for the offer, and took him up on it. Each drop was refreshing, the kindness of strangers continued.

The BLM office was down the road another mile. There was one woman with a colleague there, they both heavily advised me not to take Usal, not that it was a fool's errand, but pretty close, saying that I needed a mountain bike or something beefier than my cross bike (on semi slick 32s). They weren’t exactly too far off, but I decided Usal was my best option, considering my current location and what I could physically tolerate (at this point I was 40 miles in and nearly 5k ft climbing).

There was a awkwardly situated cafe in a lumberyard called Caffe Dolce. Their pastries and sandwiches were exceptional. Both the fuel and the rest were a much needed respite. I was surprised at how busy the cafe was. There was a constant stream of people coming out to pick up a sandwich, I surmised that they were all potentially pickers at some of the farms in Humboldt county. I overheard an Aussie gal talk about going back to the farm.

Back on the bike, there was a smell of dank herbal piney resins wafting at me, I was definitely in Humboldt county. To punctuate that point, I was nearly at Usal road, pedaling along fern laden roadways, when a women walking along the road was most certainly on a different plane than I was. She stated everything is beautiful and asked me for a hug, which I complied and listened to her delve into hyper connected beauty and how we’re all one. I was grasping for an understanding of what all she was conveying to me. I pointed her the way that she should continue walking, and hoped that somebody would return her to wherever she had come from. Bizarre.

Usal’s beginning was a formidable muddy clay-like road, deeply rutted and pocked. The mouth of the whale that would swallow me up and eventually spit me out some ~30 miles and 4k ft climbing later onto highway 1. I ignored the closed gate and passed by. There were rollers that climbed and descended into expansive groves, with each descent typically requiring me to dodge pond-like flooded sections of the road. At least 3 cars were abandoned, a Honda Civic had no chance, the two trucks, despite having 4 wheel drive, succumbed to the relentless muck.

I pushed on. I was grinding away at 6-7MPH for the next 6 hours. I had to dig deep and find humor in the pain and to not let all the beauty wane. My nerves were starting to wear and my body was feeling tired of endlessly riding the brakes and carefully choosing my line, which was even harder with a load. The risk was high since both ends of Usal road were closed and I didn’t have any phone reception. A single mechanical issue could ruin the trip, a fall was a different story… actually, I laid the bike down on one slick descent and took a tumble. I was incredibly thankful -- no mechanicals or injuries.

After a few more hours of rocking out (fittingly enough to If These Trees Could Talk) and noting the descending sun, worry began to set in. I wondered if I’d ever get through this seemingly endless road. My strength was waning, but mentally, I was committed to getting through this. After rounding one of the innumerable bends, Usal beach revealed all its glory, just in time for the sunset. This helped to steady my nerves, as I knew there should be a camp nearby. Indeed there was a camp at Usal Beach, but I was pumped and ready to bid this road farewell, so I cranked on into the night. I climbed another 2k feet and rode another 16 miles in the dark. Thankfully, I had my headlight that was charged, but unfortunately, my taillight died on me. There were just a few cars that passed me (it was 9pm on a Thur night with a highway closed just North of me, hence why I decided to commit to Usal route).

Haggard and nearly broken, I arrived at Westport-Union Campground. I had been on my bike for nearly 15 hours that day. The campsite was on a bluff, the chill winds were refreshing, and helped to cool my nerves. What a day.

Day 4 Westport-Union Landing to Russian Gulch (28mi/1.5k ft)

https://www.strava.com/activities/951928593 https://www.strava.com/activities/953575322

There’s a smile that creeps across your face knowing that you accomplished something that most people wouldn’t dare to attempt, it’s not like I rode a 24 hour endurance race, but it still something to take some level of pride in the accomplishment. As the sun crept up and the ocean sang it’s morning chorus, I couldn’t help but reflect on the tough day; my body was spent. Thankfully, there was a short road to a recovery day, as I was meeting the rest of the Coyote Bomb Squad in Russian Gulch for two chill nights of camping.

I pedaled through Westport, a quirky little coastal town (more like a hamlet), with a tiny cemetery situated on the bluffs and some funky whale mosaic fountain. I savored my breakfast sandwich from a small market run by sweet earthy ladies and then slowly rolled towards Fort Bragg. Coming into Fort Bragg, I stopped in the local coffee shop before hitting the local bike shop, Fort Bragg Cyclery, and chatted with the owner, Mark. Later, I picked up some Teknu since I had managed to hit some poison oak on Usal road. After scarfing on the best pizza in town, Piaci Pizza, and sharing a surprise beer with Mark (bike shop owner), I cruised off to the campsite to meet up with my friends.

Several days on the road riding solo can be a great time for self-reflection and really stoke the fires of your inner hobo, but there are those moments when you’re inundated with gratitude for good friends and their adventurous spirits. I was happy I didn’t have to ride any further and more importantly, elated to be around the warmth of friends and the warmth of my first campfire of the trip. The sunset on the bluffs was of epic proportions.

Day 5 Russian Gulch Exploring, Canoeing, and Hardcore Chilling

Nothing is sweeter than sleeping in and waking up to the smell of hot buttermilk blueberry pancakes cooked on cast iron. Resting, chowing, and some mellow canoeing was on the agenda for the day. We gawked at the ultra-marathoners running through our camp; a funky route, and oddly enough, the canoeing location was the finish line.

Catch a Canoe and Bicycle Too was a quirky shop filled with collectors bikes suspended in the rafters, a series of beautifully crafted “toy” rockets, which looked like they could deliver at least a marmot to outer space, all run and owned by an idiosyncratic shopkeeper. He seemed half-wizard, half rocket scientist, and likely was the most intriguing person that I had encountered while on the trip. His knowledge of photography and rockets was astounding, and he ran a bike shop and a canoe rental business too. And these weren’t just any canoes, these were real works of functional art, just like one would imagine with a beautifully crafted bike, these were easily the most beautiful water-worthy canoes I had ever seen, not to mention the fastest; replete with outriggers for stability. I can’t recommend this experience enough; anyone can manage to enjoy a languid paddle up a gentle river in one of these. On the river, there’s a calm that’s induced that coaxes one to slow down to drink in all the fresh air and sights. Even a handful of seals with pups laid around without a care in the world. A few hours worth of this and it’s like hitting reset on your body. Just mellow; nowhere to be, but right where you are.

The remainder of the day was just chilling with friends, scarfing yet another burrito, and roaming around the bluffs followed by an epic paella cooked by the birthday boy himself, Youngblade.

Day 6 Russian Gulch to Bodega Bay (102mi/6.5k ft)

https://www.strava.com/activities/955648904

These are the types of days that most riders dream about: a good deal of rest, a pancake breakfast, and an epic tailwind that would leave most vikings envious. Despite the fact that the option to hop in a car was there, I opted to pedal the remaining miles back home in 2 days. This might have been one of my favorite days of riding. The hills were fast rolling, each corner plunged down toward the ocean and climbed back up along a coastal bluff. The farmlands added to the serene and bucolic views that elicited a smile. Such a beautiful coastline, such a simple life that calls you to standstill, reflect on a slower pace of nature and the simplicity of it.

Each descent propelled me closer to home and I began to squirm a little thinking about joining the fray again. I pushed on.

Point Arena is a small town that boasts having one of the oldest lighthouses on the coast. It’s a cute and quaint little pitstop close enough for a number of motorcycle riders to reach it from the Bay. A weird sight: hippy/coastal/biker community. California is filled with contradictory juxtapositions, but that’s one of the reasons I love this state. After a solid lunch, I caught up to a crew of riders bikepacking, the only legit riders I had seen! The trio were Canadians heading down from, well, Canada and going down to LA. I was impressed with the amount of beer they were loaded with and sad to turn them down to join them. I had hoped to finally exchange some road stories with fellow riders. There was a brief stop at Salt Point with them, but I felt great from that luscious tailwind, even after 75 miles, and decided to push on to Bodega Bay, about 30 miles down the road.

I rolled into Bodega Bay around 6pm and treated myself to a quality glass of wine and a massive fillet of halibut. So perfect, so nourishing. The campsite at the dunes was a windy one, and made it challenging to sleep despite wearing earplugs. No wonder it’s a favorite spot of windsurfers. Some peculiar dreams crept in that night. Maybe the corporate lifestyle or the dread of the routine that was right around the corner.

Day 7 (Bodega Bay to Larkspur to SF 65mi/3k ft)

https://www.strava.com/activities/956749405

The morning dew hung tightly to everything in sight, it limited my vision, and would eventually morph into a full rain. Undeterred, I knew a hot bath and a cold beer was at the end of my road, but first, I needed a solid breakfast. Estero Cafe delivered. Seated just outside of Marshall, it’s a quaint little organic farm to table type of place, but felt more like a cafe that you might encounter in anytown USA with the local sheriff stopping in and a few regulars just picking up their morning joe. The mist had built up to a sprinkle after I finished my last bite, so it would be a drizzly ride home. Another 60 miles of meandering through dairy farmlands and verdant hills. A  host of classic porsches from the 50s zipped along the same roads, they respected me and I certainly marveled at their classic contours.

Fairfax is always a favorite destination of mine, as many bikers can attest. There is a shared love for bikes in this upper-crust hippy town (seemingly contradictory). Gestalt was on my mind, after collecting rain in my shoes for the last 50 miles, I was ready for a beer and a sausage. Both were savored. I felt lonely and wanted to share my journey with someone like I had done the previous year after a longer tour, but nobody extended me the pleasantries. A tired and weariness settled in from the week of riding, yet there was a lingering satisfaction from knowing what I had accomplished.

I opted to take the ferry back to save a few miles and to soak up the bay and the bridge from a different perspective. The quiet Monday afternoon in the city made it feel like a distant stranger, as the streets were quiet. The city towered over the mouse in a familiar concrete cornfield. It felt good to be home; an appropriate way to close out one chapter and start a new one. The cycle continues, as does the adventure, it always will.