#where Ria is like smoking or something

[kathlare]

frozen in time

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando and friends react to Drive to Survive with their usual playful banter. However, when they hit a scene featuring Lando and Amelie from Season 3, the mood shifts dramatically.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 10th, 2023 - London, United Kingdom

The dimly lit studio was alive with the buzz of friendly banter and the occasional bursts of laughter. Lando sat on a well-worn couch between Max Fewtrell and Ria Bish, the three of them clad in Quadrant merch as cameras captured their every reaction for the latest YouTube video. The premise was simple: reacting to Drive to Survive. The execution? Pure chaos.

Ria was already mid-rant about something ridiculous in Season 2. —Why does it feel like they add extra dramatic music when nothing's even happening? I swear, it’s like someone sneezes, and suddenly it’s DUN DUN DUN.—

Max laughed, nearly spilling the energy drink he’d been nursing. —I mean, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Make it feel like everyone’s life is constantly hanging in the balance.—

Lando grinned, leaning back and making himself comfortable. —It’s all a bit over the top, yeah, but it’s entertaining. And hey, at least I don’t look like a total idiot in this season.—

Ria raised a skeptical brow. —Not yet, you mean.—

The trio continued to watch, trading jabs and comments about the onscreen antics. Clips of intense rivalries, over-exaggerated voiceovers, and behind-the-scenes moments filled the laptop screen. They’d started with Season 1 and were working their way through highlights, jumping around episodes and reacting to iconic moments.

Everything was going smoothly. Until it wasn’t.

They clicked into a random episode from Season 3. The first few minutes were harmless enough—a dramatic montage of crashes and podium celebrations—but then the screen shifted to a familiar scene from the paddock.

Lando and Amelie.

The clip wasn’t long, but it was enough to make time feel like it had slowed to a crawl. Onscreen, Lando and Amelie were caught by Netflix’s cameras in the middle of a lighthearted moment. They were walking through the paddock together, laughing like kids sharing a secret. Amelie playfully shoved Lando, who responded by grabbing her wrist and twirling her in an exaggerated dance move. The flirty energy between them was undeniable, their smiles so wide it was hard to believe anything could ever break them.

For a second, Lando froze. His breath hitched, his face going pale. It was as if someone had sucker-punched him out of nowhere. The easygoing banter he’d been throwing around moments ago was gone, replaced by a heavy silence.

Max, who was mid-sip of his drink, noticed the shift immediately. His eyes darted to Lando, then back to the screen, and then back to Lando again. The tension in the air was palpable.

—Uh...— Max began awkwardly, glancing at Ria, who looked equally puzzled by the sudden change in atmosphere. —Maybe we skip this one?—

Max reached for the laptop without waiting for an answer, quickly clicking to a different episode as if that would erase what they’d just seen. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the laptop’s fan, the laughter and chaos of moments before evaporating like smoke.

Ria glanced at Lando, her brow furrowing. She could sense something was off, but she didn’t press. Instead, she leaned into her usual sarcastic demeanor, hoping to lighten the mood. —Wow, they really know how to milk the drama, huh? I mean, that whole twirl thing? Practically Shakespearean.—

Lando forced a chuckle, but it was hollow, his eyes glued to a spot on the wall behind the laptop. —Yeah, something like that,— he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Max shot Ria a quick look, silently telling her to drop it. He shifted in his seat, trying to steer the conversation back on track. —Anyway, uh, what’s next? Oh, remember that bit where Kimi says like two words, and everyone loses their minds? Classic.—

Ria played along, laughing exaggeratedly. —Oh, the man’s a poet. 'Leave me alone, I know what I’m doing'? That’s basically the F1 version of 'to be or not to be.'—

Max snorted, and the two of them kept the chatter going, their energy intentionally over the top to cover the awkwardness. Lando, however, stayed quiet, his mind elsewhere.

He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head. That moment with Amelie, so simple and carefree, felt like it belonged to another lifetime. Seeing it now, years later, it hit him like a tidal wave. The laughter, the ease between them—it was a stark reminder of what they’d had, and more importantly, what they’d lost.

Max’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. —Lando, you good, mate?—

Lando blinked, realizing both Max and Ria were looking at him now. He plastered on a smile, the kind he used for cameras and fans, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. —Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoned out for a second.—

Ria didn’t buy it, but she let it slide, leaning back into the couch with a shrug. —Well, wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’ve got a video to finish, and the fans are going to want your expert commentary.—

Lando nodded, forcing himself to focus on the screen as Max started the next episode. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to Amelie.

The laughter on the screen. The way she’d smiled at him. And the aching realization that nothing about it was coming back.

[envies-writing-corner]

Missing Your Scent

Genre: (F)

Includes: Luxiem, Iluna boys

Word Count: 744

TW: None

Title: Scent HC, what each member smells like

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

Ike Eveland:

- Ike would smell of old book pages, not the must and dustiness, but the crisp scent of parchment, as if sitting in an old library by an open fire, enjoying a nice cup of tea or coffee, along with the bold strokes and notes of ink.

- A smell that reminds one of their younger days where everything was simpler, where a story would take one away into a world of joy and bliss.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Fairytale mixed with a soft musk

Luca Kaneshiro:

- A commanding yet relaxing scent, one that you’d find on a knit hat or scarf, casting away from the small yet harsh wind, a crisp cold filling your senses. One perfect for a distant memory.

- A warm embrace type smell that continues to linger even after many washes, something that screams sophisticated and important but not cocky. A gentle smell that doesn’t overpower the world yet will remain in ones mind for days or weeks to come. 

- Bath and Body Works scent: Sweater Weather

Vox Akuma:

- All attention would be whisked away at the mere thought of the remembrance, a dark undertone fit for a monster but not for one who looks so much like an angel. A distant world filled with respect and covered in flame, so distant that one can not be sure if it’s hell or the world they currently inhabit.

- Something about the smell is bitter, as if withholding thousands of painful memories, yet it’s a comfort as much as a reminder. It is truly the scent a leader would carry, a scent fit for a demon.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Sweet Whiskey

Mysta Rias:

- A bustling city, every smell, every sight mixing together except for the man in orange, his cologne wafting off him in waves through the chilly wind, a tender scent that can only speak of importance. A cavern building as the man further vanishes from sight.

- Despite the hustle and bustle of busy streets, you know there’s only one who would remind you of such dark despair, and you won’t lose him again, not after the years apart.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Smoked Old Fashion

Shu Yamino:

- A smell that can bring one to a whole different dimension, a world they’ve never seen or experienced, yet continue to linger as a deja vu type of muse. The scent is trapped within your mind, a far forgotten face that smiles as you dance, sweeter notes mixing beautifully with the earthier tones.

- A scent that rejuvenates a soul, one that can only be done with magic. Yet, no matter where it came from, you’re sure it’ll never leave, at least not for a long while.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Japanese Cherry Blossoms

Kyo Kaneko:

- Although found within a sterile environment, one can’t help but smile at the faint strawberry smell, a breath of life in a seemingly dead room. Following the breeze into the night sky, it’s a scent that one begins to long for, to meet the one who is so far yet still so close.

- A tone of lovely relief, enchanting the mind as you wish to waltz the stars, wondering if the one you’re searching for resides under the same moon as you.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Your The One

Aster Arcadia:

- A distant smell that is warm, one that continues to remind those of another’s presence. Not too powerful but one that seems fit for a person who is shrouded by mystery. Someone you’ve never seen yet feel safe with.

- A type of scent that calms your woes and worries, similar to that of a childhood detergent that feels so familiar, yet one you can never seem to properly place. A far off feeling that continues to return, no matter how long it’s passed.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Among The Clouds or Cloud Nine

Ren Zotto:

- A world unknown to the source, a scent just as unfamiliar. It’s a type of lull that screams ‘find me’ one in which you can feel yourself fall deeper into as days pass. It’s only time that separates the wishes of the human heart that beats steadily through the flow of life.

- A whole new dimensional scent, one that’s hard to place but matches so well to the lost being that holds it. A dream wishing to become reality as he follows in the worlds long forgotten path.

- Bath and Body Works scent: Clean Slate

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

Authors Note: Was this just an excuse to write about the Sweater Weather bath and body works lotion, yes. It reminds me so much of Luca that I needed to write these HC, it was dire.

[maia-and-ria]

Absolute Trouble

Characters: Hoshigumi (Taiga Hoshibami & Jyuria Hoshizumi)

Summary: First friend; first real family. A story of a troublemaker and his only follower from back when they were kids – The Tiger and The Snake.

Word count: 2,3k

A/N: Yes as the summary says it's a story of two brats. it contains profanities and a bit of angst and a mention of blood and a shitty father. They're both 10 year old in this story and I know their hair probably didn't look like the art back then but I couldn't decide whether their hair was all white or not since Taiga's current hairstyle could be dyed. Anyways-- pardon my grammar mistakes, this is not my first language. In fact don't point it out or else I'd cry. Also it's been a long time since I went to a carnival so my bad if I got the shooting game part wrong lol.

Ria only had one thing in mind when she stepped into Sinostra, that’s none other than to wash her hands and face in cold water and let go of all the germs sticking to her skin. None of her minions were there to welcome her as the working hour hadn't started yet, and her surroundings were dead quiet too, no ghouls or humans lurking nearby—not a single heartbeat in her ears.

Without a care, she pushed the door open with barely any strength, only to find out somebody had broken in before her, and that person was standing still in front of her minibar, staring at a peculiar object sitting on the bar counter—in which Ria forgot to take back to its usual confinement.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Ria shouted at him.

There are only two people that can come into her office without permission. Maia is one of them, but despite that she never visits when Ria isn’t there–let alone without letting her know.

The other one is Taiga.

One reason was because he’s the boss of the house, and the other was because he’s one of the people she couldn’t detect through heartbeats, so she might as well give him a free pass to her private office rather than let people come up with strange theories. She even gave him the security number–not that he would remember it anyway. But it seemed like he just proved her otherwise.

Even before she took another step towards him, she already knew what he’d been staring at. Yet a part of her wished she was wrong, at least for this one time.

“Hey, Riri…” His eyes never left that small–fluffy thing, seemingly trying so hard to remember what it was. Where he had seen it before, when he had seen it before. “What’s this thing…?”

♦♥

“I want the kitten one!” The little girl pointed at the kitten plush being hung in the middle, with its colorful fur among the other eye-catching prizes.

“That’s small fry to me! I can get you something much better and cooler, like the tiger one over there! Watch!”

Normally the little girl would cower in fear by now. It’s not their first time sneaking out but usually when they did they’d hide around the house– just enough to be away from adults’ watchful gaze. Yet there they are now, at a bustling carnival where they could lose each other at any time. But Taiga said it’s where so many fun games are and that it doesn’t occur often in their area, and not being able to go out often made her agree to most of his invitations no matter how dangerous they could be. So who’s to blame now?

“I wanna play!” Taiga said to the booth attendant. He reached into his pocket to retrieve some crumpled money that he stole from her house.

The attendant looked down on them, that crooked smile hidden behind his ugly moustache. He didn’t even bother to take their money. “You can’t win, kid. Get your guardian and come back here.”

Something about the way he said it made Ria feel uneasy. He reminded her of her father’s guards – they reek of smoke and talk like pirates. Those people never failed to make her skin crawl. She moved closer to Taiga and whispered, “...Can we just go, Bami?”

“No way! Didn’t you say you want the prize?” Taiga stole the rifle from the person beside him. “Give me that. Watch how a winner does it, loser.”

The attendant got up from his seat and almost shouted a warning, but Taiga shut him up by shooting all three clowns at the top row without even a second break. The kid Taiga stole from couldn't help but gasp in amazement.

“That's so cool! Bami is so cool!” Ria hopped excitedly as she clung to his arm.

“Heh. Never underestimate me!” With a proud grin on his face he pointed at the booth attendant. “You, give me the prize! The white tiger in the corner.”

He scowled and took the money Taiga put earlier. “Don’t come again.”

Taiga handed the plushie to Ria, looking dead straight at the guy. “Don't worry. I'll aim at your head next time.” If there's one thing everyone should fear him for, it's how good his aim is. All from watching guards shooting with a real gun before. “Thought you could scam me…”

Ria noticed the change in his tone. A warning that things are about to get ugly. She tugged at his sleeve. “Bami… let's lea– AAA!”

“There you are, lil’ princess! Your daddy's been looking for ya!” 

Someone picked her up all of the sudden from behind. It's none other than Ria's assigned guard – one of her father’s men whose job was to “protect” her from harm. Not knowing that it's either his foul cigarette breath or dirty hands from touching God-knows-what that would kill Ria first. Probably both. And this time he brought his other ugly friend to catch the two kids.

“BAMI!!” She screamed out his name. The stuffed toy slipped out of her grip and fell.

Taiga aimed the rifle at the man and managed to land a pellet on his eye. He yelped in pain and fell onto the ground – must’ve hurt being shot from close distance – Thanks to that Ria could be free from his hold. But when Taiga was about to target the other man he realized he had no pellet left, so he used the weapon like a bat and hit him where it'd hurt the most – between his legs.

“RUN RIRI!!” Taiga shouted as he continued to beat the adults with all his strength. She held back a sob as she hurriedly got up from the muddy ground, putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could against the crowd of people.

“Ughh– get up you fucker! Yer gonna let a 10 year old beat your ass?!” Ria heard her guard scream.

Where am I going?

“S-sorry! I'm sorry!” Bumping too many people as she ran, she couldn't even get a glimpse of those faces she apologized to. The neon lights that she found pretty now made her dizzy. Her lungs felt like exploding and her feet might just snap anytime soon. How far are they? How much longer must I run?

Then she remembered Taiga whom she left behind. She let out a sob— the guilt washed over her like a bitter medicine stuck in her throat. I left Bami all alone. He's my family and I left him alone.

It was as if nature agreed that she's a bad kid—the sudden gust of wind made her trip on her own two feet. But she can't expose herself out in the open like this, she must hide. So with all the strength left in her, she hobbled her way to the nearest alleyway. She sat beside the nearest bin, hugging herself as her teeth couldn't stop clattering and her tears couldn't stop from falling.

“Bami…” she cried.

Ria wondered what would happen to him. Is he safe? Ria could only hope he also ran away somewhere. Away from her father's men. Because her father is never one to hold back from giving severe punishment to anyone he disliked.

Doesn't matter if it's his own daughter, let alone Taiga.

For someone who never looked at her daughter, he sure meddled in a lot of Ria's business. She couldn't go out of the house as she pleased, she couldn't make friends with anyone, and she's not allowed to talk with those coming in and out of the house – those strange women who seemed to always cling to her father for some reason. Ria wondered why she couldn't receive the same amount of attention they're getting from him, making her question what the true meaning of family was.

That's until she was introduced to her distant relative – Taiga. A mischievous boy who screamed chaos when he entered the room. The first information she heard about him was that he often transferred school for being a troublemaker. But to her, he's her first friend, her childhood hero.

Her first real family.

Everyone said that Taiga should mind his manners, he should be more polite, he should be this and that, but Ria wished he would stay this way forever. She didn't care that he's a bad influence, or that she would turn into a troublemaker like him, because when she sees that silly smile or playful glint in his eyes, the world doesn't seem so… empty. When she screams, she wouldn't be greeted back by those sad echoes, but by Taiga's mocking laugh calling her crazy.

She simply wished she was strong enough to protect his laugh… for the rest of her life.

“I hate you…” she mumbled under her breath. “I hate you, daddy.”

“I thought we agreed to not mention your papa when we're playing.”

She could tell who that cheeky voice belonged to. She could tell anywhere. Without thinking twice Ria got up from her spot and jumped at him. “Bami!”

“Yuck, you're crying again. Always the crybaby Riri.” Yet despite his words, he hugged her back anyway.

“Meanie…” she sniffled.

“Yeah, yeah, stop crying now. Here, you left your doll there. You can cry with this thing now.” He showed her the tiger – it's a little dirty on some spots. Hopefully they're not blood.

Taiga spoke in a different voice, “Gao! I beat those guys real hard to protect Princess Riri! Now you have to reward me with some fresh meat! Gao!” He playfully attacked Ria's face with it, making her giggle. He would never say it to her face but her laugh can be contagious sometimes.

“Then I shall prepare Mr Tiger with the best fresh meat I can find in the empire!” Ria said with a laugh. Her heart ached knowing that she wouldn't be this happy tomorrow. “I wish I could laugh like this everyday…”

“Am I your stupid jester now, Riri?” he faked a sigh. “You should know that I'll always be the king!”

“Well… you're right…” she mumbled. “Maybe that's why we can't see each other often. Bami is the mighty king, after all.”

Taiga went quiet. It's just some stupid title, why so serious…

“Even peasants can go see the king, y'know. As long as they bring him enough gold.” He grinned. “Hey, Riri, you recognize this hairpin?”

There's a gold snake hairpin clipped to his hair. It's a bit funny to see a boy wearing such a thing, especially Taiga. Not to mention he didn’t clip it correctly. “That's mine! It must’ve fallen earlier.”

“And I found it there, so it's mine now~”

“Well, I was planning to gift you something anyway…”

“Really?! You were planning to give me a hairclip? It's way too girly!”

“Dummy… you didn't even refuse earlier.” She carefully adjusted the hairpin. “You can’t return it now. It’s yours! So don't lose it.”

“Or what? You'll cry again?” Now that she stopped crying, he wasted no time teasing her again.

“You like my tears so much, Bami? Well I can get angry too!”

“Yikes. I think you should leave the angry part to me. What will you do with that anyway? Hit your big bro?”

“Pfttt– Hahaha!” It’s so ticklish hearing Taiga call himself that. It's warm but Ria would probably take some time to get used to it. Who would've thought about adopting someone like Taiga as their brother? Anyone would have to be crazy to do that.

“Laughing now? You got what you're praying for so don't regret it in the future! I don't accept returns.”

“If you don't start acting maturely as you grow, you'll become the little brother instead, Bami.”

“Never~ Because Riri is always the crybaby!”

♦♥

“Fuck I'm hungry,” he whined for the thousandth times. “Feed me, Riri. Take responsibility for your big bro.”

“How many times do I need to remind you that we're not siblings?!”

“Being all angry doesn't suit you, y'know that?” Taiga poked the tiger plushie, Ria could see the corners of his mouth turned up – and for the first time in a very long time, he looked like someone she was familiar with. The version of Taiga she used to admire when they were kids. Suddenly he shot her with, “I know that look.”

No, he doesn't. “No, you don't.”

“C'mon now, Riri, you never wear a mask around me.”

She hates that it's true. In a way. “People change.”

“I don't. I'm still your family.”

“Oh yeah? Where's that hairpin I gave you, then?!”

“Jeez, so you are getting pissy over that,” he grimaced. “I'll look for it later. It's probably somewhere in my room.”

“I regularly take care of this plushie and that's how you treat my gift?”

“Quit nagging, will ya? I'll wear it everywhere I go once I find it. Happy now, princess?”

“Ew, don't call me that.”

“Right. Because that's how the dudes in this place are calling you. Now I should come up with another unique nickname even tho I call you that first.”

“You're going to act jealous over that?!” Ria put the last glass she just cleaned to its place. Surprisingly, she found it alright to do something productive while he’s around. “You know what? I think you’re way too hungry to even use your brain, Boss.”

“That’s what I've been sayin’ since earlier!”

She giggled. “So what do you want to do? Raid Jabberwock?”

“Took you long enough to come up with a good solution. You can use your pretty face to distract Harry while I take his mouse.”

“You do realize Romeo is going to strangle you for this, right? You're basically picking a fight with another house.”

“Nah, he can deal with it.” He got down from his seat. “Life should be exciting when you're surrounded by your family. You should know that well by now.”

Two wicked pairs of green eyes filled with mischief staring at one another. Grinning from ear to ear, Taiga extended his hand to her. Like devil's invitation to chaos.

Jabberwock has no idea what's coming. 

“Our new adventure awaits, Riri.”

[walmart-icarus]

Apologizing

haha hey germs

warnings: mentions of abuse, death oh and this is sad/angsty

It was nice to feel the sun again, Star thought. The boardwalk sure was calm during the day.

"You okay Star?" Michael said gently next to her.

She nodded her head quickly

"I'm fine Michael, I'm enjoying the heat."

It's been a week since her friends/family/captors were killed. Laddie was returned safely to his family. She was glad. That kid had a bright future. Michael sat across from her on his grandpa's porch. Star was ever grateful for Lucy's talent in making lemonade. That shit was good.

She assured the Emmerson's that she has a place to stay. But did she really? The sunken hotel would be pretty empty without the boys.

The last home before that? She ran away from her dad and 2 sisters. Star doesn't really remember what her name was before Star.

I mean, who would go to the murder capital willingly? She just hopped on a bus and never went back.

She assured-no-promised Lucy she had a place to stay. And yet here was the one and only Lost Girl walking into the crowds of the boardwalk.

-"You sure you don't want to stay at our place?" Sam asked -"No, no! Don't worry about me" Star lied through her teeth.

She didn't want to stay in the house where the only family that cared for her died brutally. At least Michael understood a bit. She's pretty sure that he and David had something going on, but she didn't dare to ask. He has the same sad eyes as she does.

Sam nodded hesitantly before running off with his friends. The friends that started all this. The friends that saved her. The friends that killed the people that make her feel safe at the boardwalk.

She didn't mean to have their blood on her hands. She just felt guilty about taking Laddie, and didn't exactly want to kill innocent people.

she didn't even say goodbye.

Next thing Star knew, her legs were moving one after another towards that familiar place. Sure, she could've asked Michael for a ride, but she just left.

It's been a few hours, and it should be past dinnertime by now. And there it was, the hotel.

The bed, the tapestries, David's cigarettes, that bottle and...Marko? Marko!

She ran fast to the laying body on the ground. Marko always looked dead, but she never noticed how haunting it could be. It looked like he was sleeping.

And she held him. And she cried.

i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

There was one thing they had in common, and that was the gaping hole in their chests.

she grabbed David's cigs and Paul's lighter. She lit it and puffed out smoke.

"Consider this my goodbye to The Lost Boys. Didn't live long enough." she said in a raspy voice in the empty cave before she brought the cigarette back to her lips

sorry? @ria-coolgirl

[princesslacroix]

I just thought of this topic and I’m asking everyone this now: coping mechanisms! What are some things Hearst does to cope when things are rough for him? They can be healthy or unhealthy!!

HEARST ASK HEARST ASK HEARST ASK HEARST ASK

Hearst does a lot of things to keep his mind off of stress in his life because he’s taking care of his (recently) four year old daughter!

HEALTHY

Hearst likes cooking so he ends up just either baking or cooking to get his mind off of things and it works out for the most part! :D

^ Friends who live in New York get to have snacks and stuff :3

Alsoooo probably just spending time in general with Ria (his daughter) such as playing games with her, or watching something with her or just looking after her while he does mundane tasks around the house

If he doesn’t have time for any of that, he just sleeps because it takes away like 40% of the stress from him

UNHEALTHY

Smoking unfortunately </3

^ This habit still carries around from his teenage years when things were really rough for him

Hearst also has this negative trait about him where he just doesn’t speak about his problems no matter how bad they are

^ He has his own inner turmoil that makes him willingly emotionally isolate himself from other people

[scenetocause]

Hello Emptyhalf! Do you have a name? Or should we just call you Emptyhalf? I have a request which is Max going back to racing and Lando supporting him, please

i do it is cassian. me 🤝 lando accidental star wars naming. (it means hollow)

this is nearly angst, by my standards

It's not that he doesn't want anyone to know. He is going to tell people - he's gonna do a stream or something, afterwards. Look at the highlights, talk about what it was like to go back. If it, y'know, goes well.

Max is trying very hard not to curse things by thinking about what he'll do if it doesn't. The urge not to stream would be very strong but maybe. That shouldn't be how it is this time. He wants to think if he's dogshit and a second off he'll do something fun and talk about how getting back in the wagon was a challenge and maybe get Ria or someone to join him on stream so he's not just chatting by himself and it'd be alright.

If it goes wrong, he can laugh it off. He can go back to what he was doing or even try again and maybe it'll go right or maybe that'll be the message he needs that-

His mind shuts like a shark's jaws on the words could be the end of him racing. It's not even thinkable.

And ok, yes, he didn't tell Lando but Lando's busy and Max sorted this out for himself. Well, Veloce helped him, obviously but he didn't get it via Lando, it's not about anything to do with that. And it's just touring cars, might only be one weekend if he can't get it together so no one really needs to know anything about it.

He could renew his race license on his own, except it turns out Callum sorted that for him. And then there's a little - it's not a Veloce team but on the day, there's a bunch of them there.

They're all ex-drivers. He doesn't like to think about whether they find him relatable or enviable, still in that maybe zone.

He's not used to the car, hasn't had any testing time. Tries to keep out the way, most of all, in practice; if F3 had seemed like the wild west at times, with thirty idiots screaming round Spa then twenty tin tops round Oulton, at barely two thirds of the track length, is Arkham Asylum or something.

The little Honda hums under his fingers and feet, though. He can smell tyre smoke as he hangs onto it round a corner, feel the drop in his stomach on the straights and if it's nowhere near single seaters then that doesn't matter, it's still racing.

He's not 100% sure what he's doing, in race one. Down to where he's even trying to go to or from, relieved to still be in a support paddock before the main BTCC boys and girls go out but it's still all unfamiliar. Watching the GB4 race feels odd, wondering how many of them will make it much further up the ladder.

The race suit he's got on is pretty much sponsor-free. There's a Veloce management logo, the team and his name. Plain grey, without time to do anything else but it's also reassuringly anonymous. If anyone's noticed an M. Fewtrell on the timing boards they haven't blown his Twitter or Instagram up about it.

He's in the points at the end of the first race. Which isn't - something curls, somewhere in his guts. Some old, hurt thing that wants to say something like oh now it all comes together or something stupid like that because obviously not. This is different, he's different.

This is where he's at. Not what he's good enough for. That's not how this works.

On the Sunday it's sunny, he feels good, chatting with his mechanics. They're relieved he hasn't binned the car, half the rest of the field up late at night stitching bodywork back together with cable ties and trying to force bent axles back into a line. He's, honestly, also relieved, just hopes he can keep it up.

There's a part of him that feels like he's still a racing driver, that might have been missing since before 2020.

The second race plays out all weird. There's tyre management, then there isn't and there's a safety car and his radio breaks, so he's so focussed on trying not to miss a yellow flag or throw it into the gravel he doesn't really clock where he's finished until he crosses the flag and realises it's third.

It. He's not embarrassed but this does mean people are going to have to see him. And logically, most of them won't know who he is so that's ok and anyway, he's got a podium so hell yes, they should see him but it's still. The old thing in his guts squirms like it's going to make him throw up.

Parc Ferme is different when you've got to get the cars back to - wherever and then take them all to. Max has literally no fucking idea what he's doing. Just accepts the hug from Big Rob, the mechanic who's the first to grab him out the car.

There's some gruff, Northern congratulations in his ear and he gets picked straight off his feet before Rob plonks him back down slightly too hard and says "'Ere, yeh've got a visiter," gesturing with his thumb.

Max peers round, assuming it's Callum - maybe trying to get a photo or something, Veloce like celebrating when anyone does something good even if it's disturbing to think about himself in the same breath as Jev.

It's not Callum. Callum would not wear thermals, a hoodie and a gigantic coat, it's fucking April for god's sake.

He's frozen. If the idea of being seen on the podium was kind of embarrassing then this is just straight up getting caught.

Lando hugs him anyway, hood up so probably no one can tell it's him. Hisses "Congratulations, bitch" before Max is whisked away to the podium.

In the car home Lando strokes his champagne-dank hair, both of them in the backseat while Theo's yelling at them not to start making out. (Max had wondered who Lando'd got to drive him for as long as it took him to get back to his garage)

Max can't look Lando in the face, even with his arm around him. It feels a bit like he's going to start crying if he tries to explain it, which would be even more cringe than it all already was.

Instead Lando smushes his somehow-cold nose onto Max's neck, limpets onto him and says "So I've been working on some more Quadrant helmet designs for you," tongue darting out of his mouth to lick the skin over Max's throat.

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 Don't Call Me on my Bluff (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42 

A/N: Summary: in which Sasha needs to take care of business before she can take care of Anetra.

Thank you slutnetra & ria for the brainrot that started this fic, petitmonde for the pep talk that finished it, and athena for the beta-ing that made it post-able. Please note that I tried some new stuff for this fic--big TW for graphic depictions of violence.

Title from Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna

Sasha fucks into Anetra hard, pulling the younger woman's ponytail like a leash to jerk her ass back onto Sasha's dick. Anetra gasps and moans, gripping the surface of Sasha's desk for dear life as the sheer force of each snap of Sasha's hips practically pushes her doubled-over form right into it.

"That's it, good girl…" Sasha murmurs down to Anetra, though her voice is quiet, almost distant. It's not intentional, necessarily. Normally, answering emails while fucking her girlfriend would hardly be a challenge.

Unfortunately, Sasha has had to deal with quite the mess all morning. And for once, she's not talking about the one currently about to come all over her brand-new antique desk.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck , I'm so close--"

Sasha closes her phone and slides it into her blazer pocket, speeding up as she prepares to turn her full attention to Anetra.

At least, she means to--just as Sasha opens her mouth to egg Anetra on, her phone rings.

"Hold on, baby, one second," Sasha frowns as she fishes for her phone, her thrusts shallowing as she answers the call.

"John Anders is here for you, Ms Colby," Sasha's doorman informs her.

Fuck. He's early.

"Send him in," she tells the doorman, sighing as she brings her movements inside Anetra to a stop.

"Wha--"

"Our guest is here, sweetheart," Sasha sighs as she pulls out. "We're gonna have to finish this later."

"But I--"

"Fix your dress, baby," Sasha adjusts herself as she gives the command. "Our guest has wandering eyes, I don't want him getting any ideas."

"Just tell him to wait!" Anetra pouts, her leg twitching as if she’s itching to stamp her foot. It’s a tempting suggestion; Sasha’s cock is straining against her pants, and her belly is burning with desire to see Anetra come undone underneath her. 

But deep down, Sasha knows if she’s going to truly enjoy herself, she needs to get this over and done with. So she pushes her desires aside, shaking her head as she extends a hand to tuck her fingers under Anetra’s chin.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” she sighs apologetically. “Daddy needs to get this done as soon as possible, then we can finish where we left off, okay?”

“This is so unfair,” Anetra huffs, rolling her eyes. It absolutely is, Sasha thinks, but what’s done is done--any second now, her doorman will knock and their guest will arrive, so business is unavoidable. 

Thankfully, there is one saving grace to the situation, one that always cheers Anetra up.

“You know,” Sasha smiles, grabbing Anetra’s hand to pull the younger woman on top of her lap as she sits down, “If you want to stay for the meeting, there is something you can help me with.”

“That sounds boring,” Anetra says apprehensively, and Sasha has to hold back a laugh. 

“I promise, baby, it won’t be--in fact, if you’re willing to stay and be patient while daddy takes care of business, I think you’ll have a lot of fun at the end of the meeting.” 

Sasha watches with satisfaction as the realization dawns on Anetra. A twinkle lights in Anetra’s eyes as a smile spreads on her face, and she nods eagerly.

“Good girl,” Sasha laughs, kissing Anetra on the cheek. “Now here, baby, roll this for daddy, will you?” She slides the rolling tray waiting at the corner of her desk over to her girlfriend, “I could use a smoke.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, bringing the discussion to a close. 

Alright, Sasha. Game face . 

“Come in!” 

Anders looks nervous as he enters the room, though it's obvious from his frankly unconvincing scowl that he's trying not to. Sasha doesn’t bother standing up; instead, she waits for him to approach, extending the hand that isn’t around Anetra’s waist for Anders to kiss.

“Pleasure to see you, Mother.”

“Have a seat,” Sasha says coolly. A strange look flashes in Anders’ eyes, but it smooths out as he sits down across from Sasha, clearing his throat as he leans back. There’s a beat, a moment of silence that Sasha knows is awkward for the man in front of her. Good; it’s when things are awkward that jitters spill over and people run their mouths, cracking without Sasha having to lift a finger.

Unfortunately, Anders is better at handling his anxiety than Sasha had hoped.

"Is it necessary for her to be here?" Anders frowns as he looks Anetra up and down, the corners of his mouth twitching. Anetra bristles, relaxing only when Sasha strokes her side soothingly with her thumb.

"Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of her," Sasha shrugs, leaning back in her chair to take a puff of the blunt Anetra had just finished preparing for her. "Isn't that right, kitten?"

"Mhm," Anetra hums, sticking her chin out for Sasha to place the joint between her waiting lips. 

“I just think that—“

“You know, funny thing about that,” Sasha watches as Anetra exhales a thin cloud of smoke, her whole body relaxing a bit against Sasha’s own. “I don’t remember asking what you think. Do you remember that, baby?”

“Don’t think so.” Anetra fixes Anders with an almost predatory look, her lips curling into a smile. She’s enjoying this too much, Sasha thinks; if she doesn’t slow Anetra down, their cards might get drawn too early by mistake.

“Patience, baby.” Sasha opts to disguise her warning with a kiss against the shell of Anetra’s ear. “Let daddy work first.”

Anetra makes a discontented noise, but relents nonetheless. 

“So let’s cut to the chase,” Sasha turns her attention back to the man sitting across from her. “Do you know why I called you here today?” 

“I assume to talk business,” Anders says, his tone brusque. Anetra stirs, and Sasha quiets her with a kiss to her cheek. 

“Don’t like how he’s talking to you,” Anetra burrows her face into Sasha’s neck, her murmur so quiet Sasha doubts Anders can hear. Honestly, it’s probably better that way. Anders looks nervous because of Anetra’s whispering, as if the fact that he can’t hear what Anetra is saying is destabilizing him.

Sasha will have to thank Anetra for that trick later. 

“You know, I like you, Anders,” Sasha sighs, running a hand through Anetra’s hair. “You’re good at what you do. Professional. You get your job done quickly without asking too many questions.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Anders clears his throat. The look in his eyes has lost its hard edge now, and it’s plain to see that he’s losing his footing.

“We need to talk about the Rembrandt.” 

“I don’t see why,” the man bluffs, and Sasha resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Baby, why don’t you show Mr Anders what I’m talking about, hm?” She sends Anetra off her lap with a tap to the younger woman’s ass, watching bemusedly as Anetra flounces over to the filing cabinet beside Sasha’s desk. Anetra stares at Anders wickedly as she fishes the key out of her bra, pulling out the requested file almost instantly without breaking eye contact.

“He sweats a lot,” Anetra giggles as she takes her place back on Sasha’s lap, licking her lips.

“Hush, baby,” Sasha pinches Anetra’s thigh in warning. Anetra hasn’t been able to attend one of these meetings in weeks, and it’s clear the resulting boredom has been getting to her--if Sasha doesn’t reign her in fast, Anetra will wind up jumping the gun, and Sasha won’t be able to get what she needs. 

She decides to hold Anetra extra close as a safeguard even as she pushes the dossier over the surface of her desk. 

“I paid you two and a half million to make sure the sale was untraceable. Tell me, does this look untraceable to you?” 

“I… I don’t--I don’t know what you…”

“ God , I want him,” Anetra whines, her feet kicking just a little in displeasure when Sasha ignores her. 

“Take a look if you don’t know what I mean,” she spits. “But I think you’ll see quite clearly where you so carelessly left footprints. It cost me almost three million more to cover those up, you know.”

“Well, mistakes happen, Mother--”

“Oh, I know they do,” Sasha sighs. “And like I said, Anders, I like you, so I was prepared to just chalk it up to that. But you see this little kitten here?” 

Anetra practically purrs as Sasha strokes a hand through her hair, laughing softly. 

“Why don’t you tell our guest what you found while you were looking through those papers, baby?” 

“He did it on purpose,” Anetra points out with a smile, reaching over the desk to point right at the centre of one of the splayed-out documents. “You can see it at the bottom of this page here, there’s a transaction of an additional half-million to an off-shore account that we don’t own. And then you can see in these transcripts of your Swiss account that someone from Russia was looking into it. And then look at this, daddy--the Rembrandt never made it to the buyer, it got intercepted in Chechnya. And remember how you called Smith after, and asked him all those questions? And then Smith called Ngo, and Ngo called Babanin? She said someone paid Mr Anders a lot of money to take the Rembrandt away from you. And you were gonna find it, but then the police knocked and we had to make the problem go away?” 

“I do remember,” Sasha laughs hollowly. “Tell me baby, what did the whole ordeal wind up costing me?”

“Five and a half million, daddy.” 

“That’s right,” Sasha echoes. “Five and a half million fucking dollars, and I didn’t see a cent of the original eight million sale.” 

“Well, I can hardly be blamed--”

“Except you can,” Sasha cuts Anders off the pass. “And you will be. Tell me, Anders, how much did the thief pay you?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Babanin already did,” Anetra sniffs. “She said you got a whole ten million this time.” 

Anders says nothing, but his face pales, mouth opening and closing like a cartoon fish before he sets his jaw desperately.

Bingo. 

“And you have the audacity to come in here and call me Mother,” Sasha laughs harshly. 

“So here’s what’s going to happen, Anders,” Sasha takes another puff of her joint as Anetra starts practically vibrating next to her. “You’re going to reimburse me every cent I spent on the deal, then give me what’s mine. Fifteen and a half million by tomorrow evening, you understand?”

Anders hesitates, and Anetra tenses.

“I can see you’re apprehensive,” Sasha smiles. “So let me sweeten the deal for you a little, alright? Starting with my girl here.” 

She grabs Anetra by the chin, pulls her in for a deep kiss. 

“You see, my baby’s a very playful person--she just loves all sorts of games. Problem is, she tends to get a little… excited when she’s playing. Poor thing breaks her toys so fast, Mother just can’t keep up! It’s a real shame--her tantrums aren’t very pretty, you know. Scares lots of new friends away.”

Anders swallows hard. “And this concerns me because?”

“Because she loves playing with boys especially, and I’ve heard you have five of them back home who she’d love to play with,” Sasha smiles. “Your youngest even just turned the same age as her--a perfect new friend to introduce her to! Wouldn’t you like that, sweetheart?”

“I love playdates,” Anetra muses, licking her lips. “Am I getting one, daddy?”

“Well, that depends,” Sasha purrs. “If I get my money, then sorry, baby, you’ll have to wait. But if I don’t, then I’m sure young Matthew will really love playing with you. What’s that game you like, baby? This little piggie, I think?”

“You’ll get your money,” Anders croaks. “You have my word.”

“I had your word last time, too,” Sasha says dryly. “Call your bank now, while we’re watching. Then I’ll believe you. Ah, ah, ah--I don’t want you calling a decoy on me. Give me your phone.” 

The call takes less than ten minutes, but it'll take about 72 hours for the money to hit Sasha's various accounts. Not what she was hoping, but it doesn’t really matter; good things come to those who wait, after all.

And that goes doubly for the woman on Sasha's lap, who looks like she might burst any second.

"So are we done here?" Anders huffs after Sasha passes his phone back to him. 

"You and I are done, yes," Sasha chooses her words carefully as she nods to Anetra, who smiles.

"Hold on," Sasha interrupts Anders, stopping him in the middle of standing up from his chair.

"Yes?" His voice is apprehensive, and the fear in his eyes makes Anetra squirm with delight on Sasha's lap.

"I said you and I are done, John." Sasha lets her hand drop from Anetra's waist, taps her back to signal that it's her turn. "That doesn't mean you're free to go."

"Mother, please--"

"Have fun, baby!"

Sasha leans back in her chair, closing her eyes to listen to Anders' screams as Anetra pounces, pulling her knife from her dress pocket in one smooth motion.

"This little piggie goes to market, this little piggie stays home!"

Anders makes a choking noise as Sasha snuffs out the rest of her blunt. She doesn't dare look to see which finger Anetra chose to shove down his throat.

"This little piggie had roast beef—“

Sasha just hopes Anetra has the decency not to go too wild this time--last time she played with someone this way, Sasha was picking shreds of skin out of the carpet for days afterwards.

“—And this little piggie had none!"

Jesus, Sasha's dry-cleaning bill is going to be astronomical this month.

"And this little piggie went…”

" Please, please, please!"

"... Aaaall the way… Home!"

Sasha opens her eyes right as the blade of Anetra's knife lands between Anders' own.

"He ruined my new dress," Anetra sighs glumly as she turns back to Sasha with a dejected frown on her face as she points to the deep red stains wetting her shirt. 

"I can see that," Sasha nods. "It's alright, baby--we can get you a new one.”

The offer seems to placate Anetra, who brightens up instantly.

“Say, think we’re gonna wind up meeting his sons after all?” Anetra brings her knife to her mouth, smiling as she licks it clean.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Sasha shrugs. “You know how families like ours can get--unless they’re much smarter than their dad, it’s only a matter of time before they visit.”

"True," Anetra folds her knife closed, slides it back in her pocket before reaching for Sasha’s hand instead. "Think I can come up with a new game for them before then?"

"Anything's possible. Now come on, sweetheart. Let's go upstairs so you can thank daddy for the playdate, yeah?"

The pep in Anetra's step as they go is almost adorable enough for Sasha to forget what they've just left behind.

--

Sasha’s breath comes out ragged as she thrusts in and out of Anetra, the younger woman’s hands tight around Sasha’s neck. Even filed down into ovals, Anetra’s nails dig into Sasha’s skin so hard that Sasha knows it’ll bruise, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Mother can do what she wants, after all. 

“Daddy, daddy, fuck , I’m so close, shit--”

“I know, baby, I know,” Sasha gasps, snapping her hips harder. “Just a little bit more, yeah? Hold it a little longer for daddy, there’s a good kitten.”

Anetra’s eyes roll back, her grip slackening and mouth dropping open as Sasha changes her angle slightly, picks up the pace. 

“That’s right, baby, that’s good,” Sasha praises. “Fuck, you look so good like this, taking my cock so well.”

Anetra beams, the praise spurring her on to tighten her grip on Sasha's throat again, grind down to meet each of her thrusts a little harder.

"Don't stop," she pleads, "Even if-- shit --even if I come…"

"Oh, don't you worry," Sasha laughs, "Believe me, baby, I'm not stopping until you're not walking."

As if on cue, Anetra tips over the edge, her whole body shuddering and arms falling to her sides as Sasha fucks her through her orgasm. It’s a sight that’s mesmerizing; Anetra looks so delicate like this, so vulnerable. Like Sasha could destroy her utterly and completely, and she wouldn’t care at all. In fact, Sasha knows Anetra doesn’t, because the very next second, she dissolves into a puddle of gratitude, thanking Sasha over and over again for reducing her to such a state. 

“Not yet, baby.” Sasha hushes Anetra with a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “I told you, daddy’s not done yet. You had your chance to play, now I’m going to have mine.” 

“You don’t need to make any more calls?” Anetra frowns as Sasha starts to move inside her again, letting her hand slide from Anetra’s mouth to close around her throat.

“Not tonight, baby,” Sasha laughs, picking up her pace as she feels her own orgasm approach. “Tonight, business can wait.”

Pride Challenge Points: 1435

[nicklloydnow]

“The article was published on the Kremlin's main propaganda website, RIA Novosti. It was written by Sergey Karaganov, a "Doctor of Sciences in History" and a political scientist. The article’s full title is "There is no choice: Russia will have to launch a nuclear strike on Europe".

And this is not his first such material. Less than two weeks ago, Karaganov published a similar article, the essence of which boils down to the same thing – Russia "must launch a pre-emptive nuclear strike on Europe." It was published in Profile, a private magazine.”

“As the video illustrates, it doesn’t matter much who starts the war: when one side launches nuclear missiles, the other side detects them and fires back before impact. Ballistic missiles from U.S. submarines west of Norway start striking Russia after about 10 minutes, and Russian ones from north of Canada start hitting the U.S. a few minutes later. The very first strikes fry electronics and power grids by creating an electro-magnetic pulse of tens of thousands of volts per meter. The next strikes target command-and-control centers and nuclear launch facilities. Land-based intercontinental ballistic missiles take about half an hour to fly from launch to target.

(…)

Unfortunately, peer-reviewed research suggests that explosions, the electromagnetic pulse, and the radioactivity aren’t the worst part: a nuclear winter is caused by the black carbon smoke from the nuclear firestorms. The Hiroshima atomic bomb caused such a firestorm, but today’s hydrogen bombs are much more powerful. A large city like Moscow, with almost 50 times more people than Hiroshima, can create much more smoke, and a firestorm that sends plumes of black smoke up into the stratosphere, far above any rain clouds that would otherwise wash out the smoke. This black smoke gets heated by sunlight, lofting it like a hot air balloon for up to a decade. High-altitude jet streams are so fast that it takes only a few days for the smoke to spread across much of the northern hemisphere.

This makes Earth freezing cold even during the summer, with farmland in Kansas cooling by about 20 degrees centigrade (about 40 degrees Fahrenheit), and other regions cooling almost twice as much. A recent scientific paper estimates that over 5 billion people could starve to death, including around 99% of those in the US, Europe, Russia, and China – because most black carbon smoke stays in the Northern hemisphere where it’s produced, and because temperature drops harm agriculture more at high latitudes.

(…)

We obviously don’t know how many people will survive a nuclear war. But if it’s even remotely as bad as this study predicts, it has no winners, merely losers. It’s easy to feel powerless, but the good news is that there is something you can do to help: please help share this video! The fact that nuclear war is likely to start via gradual escalation, perhaps combined by accident or miscalculation, means that the more people know about nuclear war, the more likely we are to avoid having one.”

“Article 92 of Russia's constitution lays down that if the head of state is 'incapable of fulfilling his duties' his temporary successor is the prime minister. That would be Mikhail Mishustin, a competent, low-key 57-year-old bureaucrat who is hardly a household name even in Russia.

But real power after a palace coup would lie elsewhere, probably with a Kremlin insider. Nikolai Patrushev, the national security adviser, is one candidate. His well-connected, fast-rising son Dmitry, currently agriculture minister, is another. Any such new leader would make Putin the scapegoat for the disastrous Ukraine war, and try to end it as quickly as possible.

A neat solution, but not a durable one.Many in Russia fear that what lies ahead is a 'Time of Troubles' (Smutnoye vremya), in which feuding clans battle for wealth and power. The phrase originally referred to the lawless period after 1598, when the tsarist throne changed hands six times in 15 years.

(…)

According to Igor Girkin, a military veteran with a wide following among nationalist Russians, last weekend's chaotic and violent events show that another 'Time of Troubles' has already started.

(…)

The state-controlled energy giant Gazprom has two militias: Potok (stream) and Fakel (torch). The defence minister Sergei Shoigu has Patriot, which hires experienced soldiers on hefty salaries of £5,000 a month or more — a fortune by Russian standards.

These legions serve many purposes. Apart from spearheading Russia's efforts in Ukraine, the Wagner Group — in particular — spreads Kremlin influence across Africa and was largely responsible for saving the brutal Assad regime in Syria. Yet the existence of these 'military contractors' is a sign of how deeply Russia has decayed. It would be inconceivable for British companies such as the energy giant BP, or the catering contractor Sodexo, to have private armies, let alone for Ben Wallace, the Secretary of State for Defence, to have his own personal fighting force.

(…)

The Kremlin is belatedly trying to rein in these legions. But the lesson of the past few days is that central power is weak. Just like the boyars [barons] who clashed in the first Time of Troubles, the big players in modern Russia know that they need their own private militias, and the bigger the better.

As these rivalries boil over, long-buried ethnic grievances could resurface too. Regional chiefs, who have long chafed at Moscow's intrusive rule, could all too easily try to assert their independence. The Muslim peoples of central Russia — Tatars, Bashkirs and others — could exploit the crisis to regain the freedom they briefly tasted more than 100 years ago.

(…)

In Britain we may have largely disconnected our oil and gas supplies from Russia, but that is no cause for complacency if the giant country spirals downwards into disorder. Perhaps the most alarming prospect is 'loose nukes': the thought of Russia's stockpile of thousands of nuclear warheads falling into the hands of terrorists.

(…)

Decision-makers in Beijing have long looked hungrily over their shared border at Russia's natural wealth: hydrocarbons, minerals, timber, water and crops. It would be ironic if Putin's attempt to rebuild the old Russian empire ended in his country becoming part of the new Chinese one. Yet these are not the worst outcomes. A post-Putin junta or strongman could turn the country into a nuclear-armed rogue state like North Korea or Iran, bristling with weapons and determined to make trouble. Given our repeated failures to contain Putin's ambitions, we will struggle to deal with a regime truly bent on nuclear confrontation.

(…)

One thing in all this is certain — change will catch us flat-footed. Over the past 30 years I have watched in dismay and anger as our governments have eviscerated Britain's expertise in understanding Russia. Spies, diplomats and analysts with lifetime experience in Kremlinology, their skills honed by the high stakes of the Cold War, were cast on to the scrap heap.

(…)

Whether we like it or not, the Putin era — with the illusions it fostered in Russia and abroad — is coming to an end. Be prepared.”

[fireintheforest]

Cycle

tw: manipulation, implied abuse

“I don’t understand what is your need to be so cozy with that Bosmer.” Ondacano said flatly, with that last word full of contempt. Saufinril paused when the wave of dread washed over him, eyeing Ondacano via the mirror, then resumed taking off the leather strip.

“What do you mean?” Saufinril asked, turning to his boyfriend.

“You know exactly what I mean. You letting him touch you all over in public, it’s disgusting, not to mention you’re embarrassing me by doing it.”

“It was just a hug.”

“Saufinril no, it lasted longer than any other normal hugs. Is that what you call it?” Ondacano stood up, “Do you have feelings for him or something?”

“What? No! It’s Rialas, he’s just like that, and the culture is like that, and Rialas is married to Lillandril anyways.”

“Oh, so it’s ok.” He said in a sarcastic cheer

“Love, I didn’t say that.”

“No, no. I get it.” Ondacano’s green eyes were glaring at Saufinril’s, “It’s in their culture to be overly sexual, it’s ok, so if I sleep with one of them then it’s ok too! They’re overly sexual anyways!”

“No-”

“No? Oh, so it’s ok for you but not me.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Do you realize your double standard? The one you have going on?”

“It’s not that! I’m not sleeping with Rialas.” Saufinril approached Ondacano.

“You let him eyefuck you in front of me, you let him act that way in front of your boyfriend and then you want to say it’s nothing, and part of the culture? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Love-”

“Do you by any chance enjoy humiliating me like this? Does it get you off? Do you, what, enjoy it in some sort of sick way?”

“No!”

“Do you want to be with Rialas over me?”

“Love, no.”

“Do you not understand that I don’t like you being with something  that acts like that? He knows you have a boyfriend and he still talks like that, moves like that, I don’t like it. I know you have a history of sleeping with half of Tamriel and it’s evident that you like being everyone’s public mer, but in a committed relationship, this is not normal and this is not ok.”

“I know that!” Saufinril cupped Ondacano’s face with his hands, looking at him straight in the eye, “Love, you’re my only one. I’m not cheating on you, I have nothing going on with Rialas, it was-”

“Just a hug.” Ondacano said in a mocking tone, then changed it to a snapping one, “Yeah, it’s not important to you, but it is to me. This relationship? It’s important to me, and apparently only to me because you don’t care at all. But fine, I get it. I’m not important, I’m disposable, I’m some background character for you to play and toss aside when it’s convenient.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it evidently is!”

“No it isn’t! Just because you’re jealous-”

“I’m jealous?” Ondacano snarled, grabbing Saufinril’s wrists and lowered his hands away from his face, “So you can go flirt with whatever breathing being you find and when I call you out on your bullshit, I’m jealous??”

“Ondacano, that hurts.” The grip had gotten harder.

“Do you realize how manipulative you are? How much trash you make me go through for you? How you treat me??” Ondacano was now giving a brief, harsh shake every time he made a question. Saufinril stepped back, moved his hands down and back in a strong move and broke the grasp.

“Stop!”

“I don’t need this from you. I don’t need a boyfriend that doesn’t give a shit about me and-”

“Ondacano, I do care. I do give a shit. I don’t know what you want me to say, do you want me to avoid Rialas at all costs?”

“Uh, yes?? That would be appreciated. If you can control yourself for once, I’d love that, because that dog clearly won’t.”

Saufinril lowered his gaze. “He’s been in my life for a long time.” The inn room got eerily quiet until Ondacano started to head to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Far away from you. You disgust me.” Ondacano hissed, “You have absolutely no moral, no wonder your family prefers not to associate with you.”

“No no, Ondacano, wait. I’ll-I’ll do it, ok? I can lower- I can stay away. I can tell him not to touch me. He’ll listen.” Ondacano turned back to Saufinril, “He will. Just, please just stay.”

Ondacano eyed Saufinril, then sighed and walked back to him, still keeping distance. “Why do you do this?” he asked, softer, even hurt, “Why do you make me act like this? You dangle the prize in front of my eyes, make it difficult,” Saufinril lowered his head, “you make me snap, and then you agree and it was some easy compromise? Does it entertain you to see me like this?”

“No, no it’s not that.”

“Don’t you get that I love you? I just want the best for you.” Ondacano wrapped his arms around Saufinril, setting  a kiss on his temple as Saufinril hugged him back, “You make me go like this. I care about you too much and I just snap.”

“I’m sorry.”

It had been 36 years since that specific argument. Right now, Saufinril was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Ondacano sleeping on the other side. His own hair was disheveled, he’d only slept three hours, and the nail dents and cuts Ondacano left in his wrists had faded away but not the memory they’d brought out. How funny, he remembered the gist of that fight but so many details had been forgotten until tonight. Having flooded back on his head, he realized it was too much for him to deal with, and too much for him to have to stand up to for 64 years. He was tired of always second-guessing himself in his home, of running mental lists and checking what he had done correctly in order to enjoy peace and quiet with his partner, he was tired of Ondacano’s humor when he did something incorrect, he was tired of giving Lillandril so many explanations when they both knew the truth, of avoiding Rialas, of not being happy…

Saufinril carefully stood up and got dressed, tying his hair back. One of the few things he’d convinced Ondacano to step back from. How come he never detected them until they left some sort of mark on him? He tightened the leather strip. He had to be one of the stupidest mer on Tamriel. He should’ve left him back then, in that very same fight. He grabbed the closest parchment he found and started to write. Straight to the point.

This isn’t working for me anymore. I can’t do this, last night was my final straw. Good luck in life – S

He folded it and placed it on his pillow, then grabbed his bag and started to pack his things. The important things like clothes, money, books, emotional mementos, eyeliner, even some of Ondacano’s gifts (damn sentimentality) got in the bag. Other gifts and the white ribbon he’d given Saufinril just last week stayed behind. Once he was sure he had everything he needed, he moved with caution to the front of the house. The door closed behind him and for a second, he had to stop and take a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he could be stupid enough to realize he’d picked them wrong again, packed up to leave him and yet he was right now feeling guilty and sad over this. Maybe he’s just not strong enough to be on his own or smart enough to pick them better. He rested his back on the door, biting his lower lip hard to keep from crying. He didn’t deserve to cry. He had plenty of chances to walk away in 64 years and he was only now doing it. Saufinril took another deep breath, wiped his eyes and went  to prepare Ondacano’s horse. Around 20 minutes later, Saufinril rode out in a gallop, headed south.

[iwaasfairy]

@sejioh said: FAIWWYYWYW FOR EVENT HELLO I AM BACK akinori-nii + smoke <33 IHAKAJJS

Ria ily so much mwuah I hope you like

Smoke

tw drugs, incest, noncon, bad trip

There’s something in his eyes that always spells trouble. Even when you were kids he’d get this vindictive glint in his grey eyes right before digging his fingers too deep into your sides to the point where it’d hurt, making you cry.

But with a kiss on your head your mom always assured you that it was a phase boys just go through. You guess in a way she turned out being right, though you now wish she wasn’t. It had been so much easier if he just hated you, giving you a glare and maybe a shove before moving on.

You wish he kept his ‘phase’.

The first time your friends tell you that your big brother is watching you all as you lay huddled over your notes, you give some of the girls a raised eyebrow and a little smile. “Which one of you does my brother have a crush on, huh?” It was a joke back then, though you had wondered, looking around the group.

But then it became twice, three times, where he’d let his eyes run over you all like he was— territorial. You became used to the weird staring. So much so that you started glancing over your shoulder on the way to school. Getting up from your bed just to make sure your bedroom door was shut properly, hating the cold shivers you’d get.

Silly paranoia.

You don’t smoke with them a lot, your big brother’s friends. But it happens sometimes, which is how you end up with your face pressed against Washio’s arm, while Suna’s mumbling and Komi’s laugh make your head even hazier. “Don’t feel good,” you say, tongue thick and heavy. The buzz hit bad, only making you feel more constricted and frightened than normal. The sting of eyes tingling down your back, soon joined by a hand.

You’re only aware of it when you’re pulled backward, head falling into his lap as he scans your expression, big brother looking blurred at the edges. He grabs your cheeks before leaning down, staring at your blown out pupils. His are wide too, bigger and darker. “Gonna feel sick like that.” The look on his face is weird, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Want me to take her outside?” Suna offers, taking a pull and slowly letting the white smoke out through his mouth again, passing the dart to Aki nii. But your brother looks over only a tiny moment, face growing eerily blank. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in the room as you roll over and push yourself up onto your hands.

You don’t need to see him to hear the crack of anger under the sweeter tone when he gives a quick ‘I got it’. And you do your best to control your breathing as you walk down the hall, his feet close behind you. But then you’re pulled to the side and shoved back into the door under him, slamming it shut a bit too hard behind you.

“Take this,” he mumbles as shoves the dart between your lips, making you cough as you instinctively breathe in too sharp, but he keeps his hand pressed to your mouth so you don’t drop it. You look at the ceiling as your thoughts go a hundred a minute, when he pushes his body forward and his crotch against yours, rubbing himself against you. He’s hard, and your breathing speeds up more when you push at his shoulder, not moving him an inch.

“Aki nii,” you press your eyes closed at the panic welling up, but he lets out a breathy groan. “Get off—“

“Do you know how long niichan’s held himself back?” You pound his chest as hard as you can, but he only pushes your face aside and starts shoving your leggings down your legs no matter how much you tell him to stop. “I deserve this, stop fighting.”

a fairhi valentine’s events

[homeformyheart]

no feelings - mason x f!detective (twc)

author’s note: my original intention was to do a post-bakery, heartbreak moment for mason and I started this before the demo updated, but needed to change it since and hopefully it still works. I have no idea if I’ll do a part 2, my original plans don’t spark joy atm, and I was tired of seeing this in my WIPs xD. very minor book 3 spoilers (allusions but no specific mentions). enjoy! *thank you @silma-words for giving this a read-through all those months ago when i was stuck and to @narrativefoiltrope for the parentheses suggestion!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – mason x f!detective (ria knight) rating/warnings: 16+; swearing, angst word count: 1.7k summary: ria wants to end things with mason before she catches feelings for someone who won’t return them. mason isn’t sure what he wants but knows he doesn’t want to give up what they have.

no feelings

mason just stared at the door to ria’s office, the shades obscuring the sight of her but he could still hear the sound of her heartbeat. solid and steady, like her.

he didn’t know why he said what he did. he just knew that she was hurt, even though she pretended not to be. and even though he wanted to talk to her, he didn’t know what he wanted to say.

it didn’t matter though, seeing as how she didn’t seem like she wanted to talk to him anytime soon.

but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

he knocked, hesitantly. once. twice.

“come in,” a voice called out, loud to his senses, vibrating ever so slightly.

he opened the door and paused in the doorway, eyes searching hers for permission.

her head rose from where it had been resting on her arms, fists clenching once she noticed him. she lowered her hands to her lap, but mason had no doubt that her knuckles were white.

“what do you want?” she asked, her features stitching together a mask of indifference.

but he could see the truth in her light blue eyes. it was his special skill after all, being able to read people and get the truth from them.

a skill he tried to avoid using with ria as much as possible for some reason.

when did that happen?

even now, as he was holding her gaze, he knew he wasn’t trying to read her. but he could still sense that something was off. and he wanted, no needed, to figure out what it was.

the silence between them grew as ria’s gaze shifted. she looked expectantly at him. “well? if you don’t have anything new to report on the case, you should leave. i have a lot of work to do.”

he shook his head, a force of habit. he really didn’t know what to say.

she glanced away, eyes flitting across the posters and papers pinned to the wall next to her desk, but mason could see the gears turning in her mind. when she turned back to look at him, the pain from before was replaced by a newfound intensity that slammed into him and sent a prickly, but still pleasant, tingle across his chest and down his arms.

a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as her eyes appraised him, and not unlike the first time they flirted, the motion sent something warm and soothing down south. as her eyes met his again, the warmth turned into a simmering heat and he took a step forward, her darkened irises drawing him in.

he raised an eyebrow at her. while he was no stranger to the constant attraction between them, which pushed and pulled like the tides but always met each other at dusk and dawn, it didn’t seem like the time.

for once, he wanted to talk.

“look, about what i said before,” he started, folding his arms across his chest.

ria made her way around her desk until she was standing in front of him. “you were right. you made it clear that you were only interested in fun, and i agreed,” she shrugged, tapping her fingers lightly on his chest.

his brow furrowed. while he did say something to that affect, it wasn’t what he wanted.

“that’s all this is and all it’s going to be, so i’ll see you later at my apartment?” ria asked pointedly, her lip curling into a smirk.

a frustrated rumble crouched low in the back of his throat. “i never said that this is all it’s going to be,” he snapped, flinching at the volume of his own voice.

ria didn’t move a muscle. her light blue eyes had darkened to a cloudy grey, only a few shades lighter than his own.

“you didn’t have to, sunshine. i’m saying it. so am i seeing you later or not?” she asked, the glare on her face reminding him of the daggers she had hidden under her jacket sleeves.

an uncomfortable itch started in his belly and he subconsciously scratched at the fabric of his shirt, blunt nails digging in harder before he realized the itch was under his skin.

and it was spreading. traveling up toward his chest and out before making its way down his arms. leaving behind a tiny, circular weight in his stomach that he didn’t care for.

he could recognize it for what it was, a form of conflict. swirling counter-clockwise as a hurricane does when it approaches shore. but he didn’t understand why it was there.

what he did understand is that if she wanted to see him, he wanted to see her.

he gave her a slow nod. “i’ll see you later,” he said, hesitating for a brief second with his hand on the doorknob.

he glanced back at her and said softly, “sweetheart.”

~ against her better judgment, ria met mason’s gaze before he left, the murmured pet name on his lips seeming to glide through the air and hit her in the chest. her body slumped back against the desk as he left, energy draining out of her and leaving behind the tempestuous grey look now seared in her mind. his words left an uncomfortable lump in her throat, and she hoped no one else came into her office.

she looked at the clock, a feeble attempt to fast-forward to the end of the day, only for her shoulders to sag at the realization that she basically still had eight hours to go. despite the tension in their earlier conversation and the uncomfortable moments they’ve had since breakfast, ria wasn’t mad at mason.

even though she had stormed out while trying to blink back tears and then he stormed away from her after finding out about bobby, she didn’t blame him.

no, the only person she was fucking pissed off at was herself.

it wasn’t supposed to get this far.

she wasn’t good with feelings. it was always easier to push away any uncomfortable thoughts or emotions by keeping her body physically distracted, preferably with either a partner in the gym or a partner in her bed.

learning how to box and working her way through all the various martial art forms gave her focus after quitting ballet.

(though it did little to quell the feelings of inadequacy caused by things completely out of her control.)

teaching herself how to use knives and rook’s family dagger was a welcome distraction after she was forced to abandon her aspirations to join the army.

(though digging through rook’s old stuff in the attic in desperate protest – to find anything that would tell her he would’ve supported her – only drowned her in the loss.)

flirting and sleeping with every person who showed interest in her and seemed even an inch better than bobby fucking marks.

(though every little fling, whether a one-night stand or a string of awkward first dates, only added supporting evidence to the story she told herself that no one would stick around for her.)

and it was supposed to be the same with mason.

no strings. no baggage. no goddamn feelings.

ria gripped the edge of her desk with her hands until her knuckles turned white. she already broke her first rule of dating: don’t catch feelings.

you can’t get hurt if there aren’t feelings involved, she reminded herself of the mantra that got her out of several attempts at relationships after breaking up with bobby.

but she could still implement her second rule.

~ instead of heading back to the warehouse right away, mason wandered toward the trees bordering the station that offered a shady respite from the scorching sun against his sensitive skin.

the heat was only going to get worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. even in the dark shade of the trees around him, the sun burned against his skin almost as if it were bare. he winced, not even wanting to think about how much worse it might feel if he wasn’t at least wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

they still needed to work together.

he pushed the seemingly random thought out of his mind as quickly as it had appeared, his body reacting viscerally in disagreement to the sentiment.

this wasn’t about maintaining a working relationship with ria.

this was bigger than that.

at least, he assumed, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.

he lit a cigarette, trying to distract from how his shirt is quickly becoming an incubator for the heat. smoke curled upward as he leaned his head back against the trunk of a tree.

he was always in it for the fun. it made traveling around and the downtime between missions more bearable.

he didn’t really care for hobbies and interests the way nate and felix did. and he could only take a beating from adam every so often.

having fun, especially with humans – who were so easy to rile up and even easier to read – made the endless time pass in a way that felt normal. for him anyway.

learning all the different ways he could elicit sounds from them. figuring out how quickly he could make them peak. knowing exactly what to do to leave them wanting more.

he took a long drag of the cigarette, closing his eyes and wishing the burn in his lungs would linger a little longer. it numbed the burn on the outside of his body.

but no feelings. that always took the fun out of things.

that was the rule.

and ria was fun, there was no denying that. maybe even the most fun he’s had in a very long time.

she knew his rule. hell, it was her rule too.

it was the perfect situation for him.

maybe he didn’t want to lose out on such an ideal situation. or mess up the team dynamic.

he dumped the cigarette butt onto the floor and put out the embers with his shoe.

whatever it was, he knew he wasn’t ready for things with her to end.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @babycracker; @writer-ish; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @pearlsandsteel; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @mevnraels;

[monstersandmaw]

Female tiefling guard x human princess (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week, and now it’s time to share it here!

Contents: a short, fiesty, gives-no-fucks female tiefling guard, some anti-tiefling sentiments from the other guards, a soft but 'don't mess with me' princess, an army of attacking demons, a minotaur best friend, and an nsfw scene to finish. Wordcount: 6756

A dull rumbling startled Salanei from her bed and set her reaching for the deep well of magic inside her in a heartbeat. The castle was shaking.

“Impossible,” she hissed, but other guards were tumbling out of their bunks all around her, some scrambling to draw weapons, others calling sparkling magic to their hands, though there were admittedly fewer of those. The castle was built on a promontory of black rock, harsh and stark against the chill morning light, but it was as old as the land itself and nothing should have been able to make the foundations shudder like that.

Unless…

Tilting her head to one side, letting her thick, messy, black braid slide down over one shoulder, Salanei opened her core of magic a little to the surroundings. At first all she found were the life-sparks of the other guards, but then, like a murmuration of birds on the horizon, she felt something far more sinister. “We’re under attack,” she yelled, stuffing her boots on and sprinting for the door. “Demons.”

The tiefling ignored the way the others dismissed her or scoffed at her - whether through deep-rooted prejudice or uneasy disbelief at her cry of ‘demons’ - and she bolted through the palace like a rabbit through its home warren. She didn’t think, she didn’t stop, she didn’t pause; she raced up back stairs and along half-forgotten passageways, and emerged, gasping, in what had once been an upper, open-air walkway that connected the main part of the castle to the residential wing. Her boots skidded on the rough stonework, grit and dust slipping beneath her soles, and she barely stopped before the gaping abyss into the courtyard below swallowed her.

Where a thick buttress of stone had arched across the space for centuries, now a smoking, singed stump of the bridge remained and the walkway was completely gone. “Shit.” Across it, she could see more of the royal guard backing into the part of the castle that would lead to the residential quarters of the princess after only a few staircases and passages. From the looks of it, they’d only just escaped back along the parapet in time.

Looking out at the landscape around the castle, she froze, horror icing over her veins.

Demons swarmed down the hillside and pooled around the outer walls of the castle to form a seething, foetid moat, their shapes as varied as the horrific noises they made; some with wings, some with horns, some with lashing tails and glinting claws. One or two of them breathed gouts of flame into the dawning sky, and from somewhere deep below at the curtain wall of the castle courtyard, the bellow of a bull in a blooded rage made her ears ring. A second later, the whole castle trembled again and a rain of fine particles and chunks of stone clattered down around her.

They were going to breech the wall.

“Fuck.”

The span across the gulf of empty air wasn’t so big that she couldn’t use a little magic to propel herself over it, and so, summoning a gust of air to spring her forwards, she leapt lightly off the stonework behind her and let the updraft catapult her onto the far tower. She landed hard but rolled through it and came to stand smoothly on her feet, finding herself face to chest with an enormous, familiar guard.

“Brandon, it’s…”

“Bloody chaos,” he said, falling into step beside her as they moved through the shrapnel-scarred archway and into the tower beyond.

The huge minotaur was about as broad across at the shoulders as Salanei was tall, and his huge war axe was cradled gently in his massive hands; ready. He was the only person who had ever treated her with any genuine respect at the castle, and the two were somewhat unlikely sparring partners more often than not.

“Who’s behind it?” she asked as they trotted down the stairs and a pounding, dolorous bell began to sound from the heart of the castle.

He shook his shaggy, black head, the patch of white at the front of his forelock dancing in the low light. “Not sure. Reports suggest they came from the west.”

“Dorhul?” she asked, steady pace stalling in time with her horrified, faltering heartbeat.

Brandon shrugged. “Seems likely. He’s always wanted to add the kingdom to his collection. With Ria’s father so ill…”

Salanei’s black eyes narrowed and she fought the urge to ram her hard horns against a wall with the wave of bitter spite that washed up inside her. The minotaur, clearly seeing the echo of a familiar urge bubbling up in the tiefling, laid a hand on her shoulder. It was so big, it engulfed the joint completely, and the weight of it steadied her. “Easy. We’ll get through this.”

“Where is the princess now?”

“The Elite Guard took her down to the undercroft.”

Salanei’s heart lurched and she stopped. “They’re taking her out by boat? Bran, that escape passage only leads to one place… if she’s caught out on the open water…”

“Dawn’s not far off. The sun rises over the lake,” he explained, but she could tell he was as unhappy with the plan as she was. “If the demons can even bear to look at the sunlight as it hits the water, they won’t see her. The glare will be too much. I think they expected to have broken through by now, but this castle’s a hard nut to crack, even with those numbers. It should buy her time to escape.”

He had a point. It was a flimsy hope and a prayer, but it was all they had.

They made it two floors down before the ring of steel and the snarl of demons reached their ears, and Salanei swore again, drawing deep on her reserves of magic so that it lapped like a vast lake a the very forefront of her mind; ready.

She flung a conjured talisman at the nearest demon’s head and the creature exploded into a mist of gore and black ichor. Not pausing to get splattered, she ducked low and aimed another spell - a lancing spike of ice this time - at a twin-headed monstrosity, one half of which was occupied with the head of a guard in its maw, the other half of which had just spotted her. The spike went through both skulls and pinned them to the wall before Salanei had even finished dancing lightly around them.

Quick and light as a mouse in a hay barn, she dodged and struck, until finally she was at the far end of the corridor. From behind her, she heard Brandon bellow a warning at her, asking her to wait, but she was gone like a weasel. Protect the princess. That had been what the old king had demanded of her in return for the shelter and comfort he had offered, and she had gladly accepted the trade.

Shouldering the door at the end of the corridor with a little extra magic behind the gesture, she burst through in a barrage of splintered wood and iron studs as the ramming spell cloaked around her shoulders made short work of it. Instantly, she found three spear tips at her throat, and she froze.

“Stop!” came familiar voice, and were it not for the glinting blades hovering so close to her pulse that she could see her blackberry-purple skin reflected in them, she might have gone slack with relief. “Let her go.”

“Highness,” Salanei said, bowing gratefully from the waist. “They’ve breached the castle from above, and they’re trying to get in from below. They’re only a floor above you now.”

She watched the princess’ freckled cheeks blanch, and she swayed ever so slightly before rallying her courage and pushing back her shoulders. “I have been advised that the undercroft is the safest route out of here, all things considered. Do you disagree?”

Before Salanei could reply, a guard stepped directly in front of her, his deep, maroon livery blocking her view of the princess. “Highness, we must leave. Now. Let the gutter rat fight the demons, but we have to get you to safety.”

Salanei’s lip curled back off her sharp canines and she snarled a warning at the soldier who ignored her completely.

It was a miracle that she even heard the soft tread of slippered feet on the stone floor above the clangour outside, but when the guard’s spine straightened and he shifted awkwardly back to where he’d been standing, Salanei almost snorted with laughter.

The princess’ face seemed carved from marble; all softness had shattered into hard lines, her eyes blazed green, her strawberry blonde hair falling behind her like a shield made of silk. “Repeat that,” she demanded in a voice low and deadly. When the guard stuttered himself into silence, she blinked. “Repeat that.”

“Highness,” he grunted. “Please, we cannot waste any more time! We must leave.”

“Repeat. That.”

“She’s a gutter rat, Highness. Everyone knows it.”

Stepping so quickly that no one saw her move, the princess darted forwards and backhanded the guard across the cheek. “I will not have someone spoken of like that, either in my presence or elsewhere in the castle. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Highness,” he nodded.

“Salanei, come here,” she said, turning away. Before Ria had gone two steps, a demonic portal began to open in front of her. The flickering purple and red edges were ragged as an old scrap of fabric, and a vile, sulfurous gas billowed out of it.

“Shit! Get back!” The tiefling dodged in front of the princess and brought her hands together, calling a binding incantation to mind and willing the strands of the spell to stitch the portal together again, preventing it from opening. The wielder on the other side was strong, their will like iron, but Salanei’s was stronger. Years of being whittled down until she was nothing but muscle and magic and sheer force of will had made her almost unbreakable now, and she knew it. Knowing it was half the struggle with magic.

I am stronger than you, she chanted in her head. This portal will not open.

“I knew having a magic wielder in my guard would be a good thing,” the princess muttered in her ear. “I’m just sorry my mother was so against it.”

Salanei could only grunt with the effort of closing the infernal portal. Behind it, straining against the glowing strands of her spell, a rabid demon snapped its jaws, trying to slice through the counter spell. The mage on the other side didn’t have a spare ounce of concentration to tell the beast to get back. Where was the High Mage when you needed her? Probably bolstering the wards on the castle walls, trusting that the Elite Guard would protect the princess for now.

“Get out of here,” Salanei finally rasped, sweating with the effort. The portal was almost closed.

A hand landed gently between her shoulder blades, fingers splayed wide, palm pressing securely against her skin through the fabric of her dirty shirt, and Salanei gasped as a rush of fresh magic and strength washed into her. With a snap, the portal sealed shut and she whipped around to find the princess smiling softly. “Come with me,” was all she purred.

Salanei nodded, winded and mute, and still dizzy from the surge of golden life that had poured into her from the princess and mixed so easily with her own magic. When had she learned to do that?

The path out of the princess’ chambers was littered with demons. Salanei used every trick and spell she knew, darting here, warping there, slicing, slashing, stabbing, to clear the path while the guard huddled close around their princess and picked off any stragglers who got through. The guards encircled the princess as though she were a jewel and they the setting. Nothing was going to touch her.

Out on another vulnerable, spun-sugar walkway that would lead them directly to the tower that sat atop the cavernous undercroft of the castle, a cloud of tiny, winged demons - which Salanei recognised with horror as having once been harmless forest pixies - swarmed towards them out of the lightening sky.

“Shields!” she screamed back over her shoulder, preparing another spell. Her vision swam from the speed at which she was hemorrhaging magic in the princess’ defence, but she blinked the daze away and focused on creating a wall of fire. Momentum sent the first half of the swarm ploughing straight through it, incinerating their fragile bodies to cinders, but the rest of the flock doubled back and regrouped. With a second flurry of flaming hands, Salanei danced through them until nothing remained but broken, blackened wings at her feet like campfire ashes.

One floundered uselessly at her boots, and while the princess was herded towards the safety of that final tower door by her retinue, Salanei scooped the wounded creature up in one hand and heard its infernal language as little more than a hoarse whisper, like wind through the grasslands. Tapping two fingers to her temple, she directed her magic at the creature, and connected a blue thread with its own yellow spirit thread, and demanded of it, “Who made you?”

A flash of images swirled through the connection, but she had seen enough. “Dorhul,” she spat when she saw the tall, slender figure of the most hated man in the four kingdoms. The connection sputtered, and the creature that had once been a pixie fell limp in her hand. Dropping it, she spun and trailed after the princess, blinking black spots from her vision.

Down staircase after staircase they plummeted, until finally they burst out into the echoing undercroft. Groin vaults stretched away into the darkness like the canopy of an endless stone forest, and Salanei shuddered. It reminded her of the dank dinginess of the slums so viscerally that she almost heaved.  

“Don’t stop now,” Princess Ria whispered, pausing to find Salanei staring off into the darkness with wide, black eyes. “We have to keep moving.”

Nodding silently, the tiefling fell into step beside her, scanning the shadows for the faintest hint of movement, but it was still as a sepulchre down there.

The lap of water eventually reached her keen, tapered ears, and she looked up to see three small rowing boats bobbing in the shallow, underground dock up ahead. A narrow canal of water led out towards the lake, and as they all climbed into the boats, Salanei took a moment to admire the calm presence of the princess. It was a miracle that Dorhul hadn’t known about this entrance to the castle.

Ria, still clad in an incongruously soft, pastel pink gown that was spattered here and there with the evidence of their desperate escape, somehow looked as regal as she had sitting in the great hall in her father’s stead these last two years.

She had remained a steady, reassuring presence in the kingdom even as the king’s health faded away despite the High Mage’s efforts to heal him. In his absence, Ria had taken over the rule of the kingdom with the grace and justice that her father had instilled in her from a young age. The queen had died only a few weeks after her father’s sickness had presented, and Ria had mourned her for the appropriate weeks before getting on with the governance of the kingdom. Beautiful, refined, and achingly gentle, it was no wonder that the kingdom was in love with her.

Salanei swallowed thickly. Half the kingdom, and… her too.

Now, although there was the air of a frightened child about her delicate shoulders, she sat in the centre of the small boat as her guards rowed her away, her green eyes fixed on the retreating castle as they skimmed across the lake. Just as Brandon had said, the morning sun glanced off the surface, glinting like a cut gem as the castle burned behind them.

Salanei uttered a quick prayer under her breath for the minotaur who was presumably still inside the castle.

Halfway across the lake, the guards’ oars faltered with a splash. A vast wave of power pulsed from the heart of the castle and spilled out across the land in all directions, sweeping demons off the walls and parapets, scattering them to ash on the wind. The sheer, raw magic made Salanei’s ears ring and her chest tighten, but when she’d mastered herself again, she found Ria staring wide-eyed at the castle with a look of unbridled horror on her beautiful face.

“Highness?” Salanei croaked, barely resiting the urge to grab her shoulder and shake her gently. “Highness?”

“Father…” she choked. “My father is dead…”

Three thoughts raced through Salanei’s mind before it went perfectly blank again: ‘that means you’re the queen’, ‘if the king is dead it means he used a purging spell so powerful that it obliterated himself as well’, and ‘the castle is free of demons now’. “Should… Should we go back?” she finally croaked.

Ria just sat there in the little boat, her breathing shallow, her face ashen.

“Highness?”

Nothing.

“Ria?” she asked, reluctant to use her familiar name. She leaned forward to touch her arm, but one of the guards - a huge, leonine rakshasa - growled at her. Salanei bared her own canines at him and hissed like a cobra.

The sound of her bickering guards drew the princess out of herself, and Ria turned to them. “Please,” she whispered. “Not now. For the goddess’ sake, not now. Let me think.”

Chastened, they fell silent, though Salanei’s black eyes never left her princess’ face.

“We go back,” she finally said.

The leonine rakshasa’s ears pricked up and he growled softly as he said, “Highness, we only just got you out of there…”

“Look,” she said, her voice eerily calm as she pointed a trembling finger towards the castle.

A cloud of sparkling, fluttering sparks had risen like butterflies above the remnants of the highest tower, and Salanei recognised Maeva’s magical signature immediately. “The High Mage,” she whispered. “You think it’s a trap?”

Ria shook her head. “No. We have a code in case such a signal is ever used. Green with gold is a trap. Pink and pale green is all clear. We return. Now.”

The rowers turned the small craft around, and Ria sat with her jaw set and her fists clenched in the fabric of her dress, eyes intense, mind working. No one spoke or grumbled, despite how the guards’ shoulders must have been burning from the effort.

The princess ground her teeth, and muttered, “This is taking too long. It’s not your fault,” she added as a guard’s expression flickered momentarily. “You’ve all been wonderful.” Snapping her head up suddenly, the princess said, “Salanei?”

“Highness?”

“Can your tiefling magic teleport me from here?”

Salanei tilted her head thoughtfully to one side as she examined her reserves of magic. “If I do, I won’t have much left in the tank when we get there,” she said. “I’d rather not…”

“Do it,” Ria said. “That’s not a request. Get me to my father’s chamber, and Maeva can take care of the magic from there if needs be.”

Jartyn, a gnoll with half his ear missing and a huge burn scar on his face, interjected, “I really must object, Highness -”

Ria’s eyes flashed and he sat back, teeth clacking as he shut his mouth quickly.

However, she got control of her frustration and spoke in a gentle, if tense, voice. “I appreciate your concern, and I owe you all my life,” she said, gathering them all into the praise with a sweep of her emerald green eyes. “But my father just sacrificed his life to cleanse that castle, and now I must return to protect his legacy. If I don’t, there’s still a window of opportunity for Dorhul to step in and claim the crown and the kingdom amid the chaos. Do you understand?”

They did, and they all bowed as one.

“You will follow in the boat and attend me back at the castle.” Ria turned her gaze to the tiefling, and held out her hand. “Now, Salanei.”

Taking the princess’ hand in hers, Salanei concentrated every drop of will and magic on the king’s chambers. Teleportation was not something many could do, and it wasn’t something Salanei particularly relished. The familiar sensation of blurring at the edges announced that they were ready, and a heartbeat later, it felt like two magical grappling hooks had yanked them by the spine and guts and had torn them away to somewhere else.

The princess landed awkwardly beside her with a cry, collapsing against Salanei as they arrived in the bedchamber of the king, and the tiefling caught her. “I’m going to be sick,” Ria hissed a moment before it happened.

Salanei supported her and held her beautiful, long hair back, and then magicked all the mess away with an easy flick of her hand.

Clearly grateful, Ria straightened and turned to her. Her eyes were pink and her cheeks were pale, but she still looked so regal that Salanei’s heart twisted in her chest.

Then Ria’s eyes slid from Salanei’s face to the bed in the middle of the ruined room. The glass in the windows had been obliterated, blasted out into the courtyard below. The twisted remnants of the lead work hung like the gnarled roots of a ripped up tree from the casements, and the rest of the room was reduced to splinters and tatters.

On the bed, there was no sign of the old king at all, but where his head would have rested on the pillow lay the golden crown, and where his heart would have been was a glimmering opal. Salanei gasped when she saw it, following at a respectful distance, a pace behind Ria.

“That’s…”

“The heart of the Lunar Forge,” Ria whispered. “Yes. Imagine what hell a necromancer like Dorhul could raise with a focus like this… That must have been how he was able to wield so much magic just now too…”

Salanei shuddered, not wanting to think about what could have happened. The Lunar Forge sat at the heart of the castle, and beneath the light of a full moon, any weapons quenched in the pool of spring water had the power to destroy demons utterly. The focus of the power was that opal. It was the size of Salanei's fist and it thrummed with power. That power did not have to be used to focus the powers of the Lunar Forge though; it could be used at the heart of any ritual, to add unfathomable power, and if the necromage had got his hands on it, who knows what he could have brought into this world.

Ria picked up the stone and the crown and then sank onto the bed. When she looked up at the tiefling, another pang went through Salanei’s chest. Tears flowed silently down Ria’s face and the urge to embrace her surged inside Salanei. “Highness,” she whispered, her heart going out to the young woman.

Her face twisted, and sobs wracked the princess then, and her guard didn’t hesitate. She stepped in close and the princess folded forwards, throwing her arms around her wiry torso and burying her face in the filthy fabric of her shirt. Her tears dampened it until the flow finally stemmed as Salanei stroked the coppery hair and just stood there, taking her grief and fears in her stride.

“I can’t do it,” Ria whispered, still plastered to her chest.

“You will. You’re not alone. I know he’s gone, but you’re not alone. You have Maeva, and your guard, and… for what it’s worth, you have me.”

It took another few minutes before Ria leaned back to regard Salanei and drew in a deep, unsteady breath.

Taking a chance, Salanei reached out and thumbed the remaining tears from the princess’ blotchy cheeks. “You have me,” she repeated as her golden eyelashes fluttered softly. A moment later, the tiefling let go and spun, adopting a defensive stance as footsteps rang on the floor outside and someone burst in.

She relaxed instantly, adrenalin dissipating when the familiar red robes of the High Mage swirled to a halt and the older woman appeared to go through a similar gamut of relieved reactions upon seeing the tiefling. “Thank the goddess,” she breathed, leaning heavily on a long, slender staff. “Ria, child, are you alright?”

Mutely, the princess nodded and stood. She touched Salanei briefly on the arm as she passed, and sent a tiny rush of her innate magic into the tiefling. The tenderness of the affection made her sway on the spot where she stood and she smiled at the princess, bowing her head.

The Queen, she corrected, forcing herself to make the mental adjustment. That’s the queen standing there now, you dolt!

The severe figure of the High Mage was made all the more stark by the harsh daylight now flooding in through the empty windows. The wind at this altitude whipped right through the room, tugging at tatters of cloth and blowing papers around like dry, rattling leaves. Maeva drew the queen to one side and the two proceeded to talk in hushed voices, leaving Salanei with nothing to do except keep watch.

She crossed to the door at the sound of — she tilted her head and strained — hooves. Demon or friend…? Brandon’s telltale white forelock and black pelt drew into view as he trotted up the staircase and she relaxed.

“You’re alright,” he smiled, tugging her into a quick hug before stepping back. “Thank the goddess. When you disappeared like that — And… the princess?”

“Queen now,” Salanei murmured. “She’s fine.”

“Goddess shelter his soul, and long live the queen,” Brandon said under his breath.

“What’s the rest of the castle like?” she asked, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder and adding, “It’s a fucking mess in there.”

“Same,” he said, leaning on the door frame and suddenly looking extremely tired. “It’ll take weeks to clear the demons and the rubble, but whatever that was, it purged them all in one go. Damned powerful magic.”

“It was the king,” she said. “He sacrificed himself to save the castle.”

“Not just the castle then,” Brandon said darkly. “Saved the whole bloody kingdom with it.”

It in fact took just over a week to get the last of the ichor and demons out of the castle, but it did take much longer to clear the rubble.

Ria insisted on being crowned in the goddess’ temple at the castle, despite the fact that half the roof was missing. Maeva and anyone with even a scrap of magic had been drafted in to weave invisible supports over the roof timbers and pillars to stop it all from tumbling in and crushing the congregation.

Salanei stood at the head of the guard of honour, her blade raised as the queen passed beneath, and she winked at one of the kitchen girls’ daughters whom Ria had selected to be one of the four train-barers. The tiny child could hardly lift the heavy material of the excessively long gown, but she valiantly did her best, along with the other children who had been chosen from the families of the castle staff. It was a lovely touch, and it had only endeared the young queen more to her people.

As the queen drew level with Salanei, she didn’t stop or break her step, but she shot her a fleeting look in passing, and the tiefling’s heart leapt. Over the past few weeks, the queen had shown her a remarkable degree of affection. She’d raised Salanei to the prestigious position of the Queen’s Blade - her personal bodyguard. But where the two had hardly interacted before the attack on the castle, now Salanei found herself often being admitted inside her private study to discuss security and plans to bolster the castle’s and kingdom’s defences with magic and boots on the ground. On such evenings, it was not uncommon for their hands to brush or their gaze to meet, but whatever swirling emotions Salanei felt, she kept her thoughts to herself. This was the queen after all.

The coronation service went on and on, but finally the oaths were taken, and the queen, now formally crowned, processed out into the courtyard beyond to thunderous cheering and applause. Maeva sent a rain of enchanted petals down around her, and she addressed her people as their new leader. All the while she spoke, Salanei scanned the crowd, but to her relief, she found nothing but adoring faces and cheering people. She met Brandon’s eye from the front row of guards keeping the crowd back, and he nodded at her.

It wasn’t until Ria was back in her chambers, again with Salanei at her side, that she showed the faintest sign of her exhaustion.

She was silent while her maids undressed her, their nimble hands undoing the regiments of buttons. Finally, they removed removed the ridiculous gown from the room and found something more comfortable. In her humble, ignorant opinion, Salanei thought that the queen looked much better in plain dresses anyway.

Ria had decided, upon Maeva’s advice, to take the rest of the day to herself, and just as Salanei was preparing to stand guard outside her door, the queen took her wrist in her gentle, firm grip, and halted her.

“No, Salanei,” she said in a hoarse, tired voice. “Stay. Please.”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said with heartbreaking honesty. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Feeling her body go slack as her heart went out to the young woman, Salanei said, “Shall I run you a bath, Majesty?”

On the point of replying, the queen paused and changed her mind. “Call me Ria,” she said. “Please. When it’s just us two in these rooms, please… call me by my name. I’m… I’m afraid that I’ll forget the sound of it now that I’m queen and there’s no one left to call me that…”

Bowing her head under the weight of that gift, Salanei nodded. “As you wish… Ria.”

With a smile, the queen reached for Salanei's other hand and squeezed her fingers in her own. “You’re so strong, Salanei,” she said, running her thumbs over the rough, scuffed knuckles and feeling the calluses from weapons training on her palms and fingers. “You… You’re so beautiful…”

The breath left Salanei in a rush as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus. “Majesty,” she protested, embarrassed and trying to pull away, but the queen held firm.

“I mean it,” she said with a fierce light in her eyes. And then she went soft with a sigh and said, “But yes, a bath does sound nice.”

“I’ll run you one,” Salanei offered, glad for an excuse to leave the room. Her heart was thudding and her skin felt hot all over.

“You’re not my servant,” Ria barked as the tiefling made to stride away across the room towards the chambers. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to,” she said. “Please.”

With a nod, Ria accepted, and ten minutes later, a steaming hot bath stood ready for her in the adjacent bathroom, the scent of jasmine heady in the air. When Salanei emerged, she found the queen undressing again, and struggling with a button right in the middle of her back.

“Help me?” asked the queen in a surprisingly shy voice.

Silently, Salanei crossed to her and freed the tiny pearl button from the back of the dress, revealing the smooth, warm skin of her back as the fabric parted and fall away. She had three freckles just to the right of her spine. The urge to brush her fingers down the length of the queen’s back from the nape of her neck to the waist of her dress was almost overwhelming, but she forced herself to step back. “Anything else?” she asked in a croak.

With a knowing, almost playful smile, the queen looked over her shoulder and said, “Fetch me a robe?”

Licking her lips, Salanei swallowed. Had Ria’s eyes always been so bright? Her hair so golden? Her lips so…

“Salanei?”

“Of course,” she chirped and turned abruptly to fetch a robe from the back of the bathroom door and bring it. When she found the queen standing completely naked in the middle of the room with her dress pooled around her ankles, she nearly cursed. Her feet stopped and she stood there, slack-jawed and staring.

“Are you going to pass it to me or not?” Ria giggled.

Flushing hot, Salanei handed it to her and looked away as she extended her arm.

“Don’t,” Ria breathed. “Unless you want to, of course.”

She had no answer for that.

“Salanei…?” the queen asked, sounding suddenly unsure. “What is it you want? Answer me honestly.”

You.

“I can’t,” she hissed, turning completely away.

Oh gods, I want you so much, she thought. I want to make you forget everything. I want to kneel between your legs and taste you. I want to sink my fingers into your heat and feel you let go. I want to give you what no other can give you.

The queen’s voice was steady as she asked, “If you could speak freely, what would you say to me?”

“Tell me I’m not out of line,” Salanei breathed. “Tell me —” she couldn’t finish it. It felt… blasphemous even to begin to voice her desires. This was the queen. And she was a gutter-rat tiefling from nowhere, with no family and nothing but her magic and her fighting skills.

“I want you, Salanei,” the queen said unflinchingly. “I want you, but I don’t want you afraid.”

Her lips parted when she heard those words, and she turned to face her queen properly. Ria still hadn’t done up the bath robe, leaving a column of perfect skin exposed between her covered breasts, and a soft nest of golden hair between her legs. Salanei’s fingertip ached to touch her just there and see if her knees would buckle at the contact.

Without a word, the queen turned and walked slowly towards the bathroom, leaving the door open. An invitation? Salanei stood there for a long time, listening to the slosh of the water in the huge copper bath as the queen got in and then lay back. Steam billowed out of the room, coiling along the floor like crooked fingers calling.

Swallowing, her heart thudding, Salanei padded into the bathroom and came to an uncertain halt. The bath stood in the centre of the small chamber, and the queen had her back to the door where she reclined in the steaming water. “Come here,” she said gently.

“Would you like me to stay?”

“I’d like you to do more than that, if you feel comfortable…” she purred, and as Salanei drew level with the bath, she looked up at her, features sharpening. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to, alright? I’m well aware of what I am, and what your station is. If… If you feel as though you’re… obliged in any way to… to…” tears filled her eyes but she refused to let them spill, and in a rush Salanei knelt on the cold marble beside the bath and put her left hand on the rim of the tub.

“No,” she said fiercely. “I want this. Trust me, I want this…”

“You can touch me,” the queen said in a low voice, tilting her head back. The bubbles just skimmed the surface of the water, but as she moved, fragrant waves lapped at her chest and Salanei glimpsed the roundness of her breasts beneath the water and the dusky pink of her hard nipples too. “Please…”

Salanei slid her right hand into the water, her plum-purple skin in sharp contrast to the warmth of the queen’s own, and she found the inside of the queen’s thigh, letting her palm play up and down it for a moment. Ria let out a long, broken moan and arched her back a little, and it suddenly occurred to Salanei that she probably hadn’t ever been touched like this. Aside from being dressed by her maids, she was always apart, always unreachable, always kept safely at arm’s length.

“I…” Ria faltered, her eyes still closed. “I never thanked you. I never found a minute, but… I should have made time. You’ve given everything to me, and you helped to save my life.”

“I made your father a promise,” she said, still just cupping the curve of her thigh in her hand, hardly daring to believe that this was happening. “And I grew to love you years ago. Your goodness, your grace, your kindness… You won me heart and soul, Ria. I’m yours. Always.”

A tear slid from Ria’s eye and disappeared into the dampness on her skin at her neck. “Touch me,” she whispered, voice intense, and Salanei complied.

She moved her hand further up her smooth thighs, feeling her tail coiling around her own ankle as her body heated up and she began to get wet from the sheer anticipation of touching the queen like this at last. How many nights had she touched herself with thoughts of the queen’s pleasure ringing in her imagination?

At the smooth glide of fingertips over her folds, the queen’s legs fell apart and she bucked weakly, sloshing water almost over the rim of the bath. Another moan escaped her and she let her head loll as Salanei repeated the gesture on the other side before circling her swelling clit and then nudging just beneath it.

A shudder ran through the queen and she gripped the edges of the bath as Salanei brushed against her, teasing and testing, finding out how she liked to be touched, where was too sensitive and what garnered her the most vocal reactions. Slow and firm seemed to drive her closer to towards her peak, while tentative and teasing made her buck and gasp, shivering and grunting with satisfaction delayed. Naturally, she drew out the process for as long as she could, and oscillated between the two.

“Please!” Ria finally gasped, curling forwards, knuckles white on the rim of the copper bath as Salanei ran one callused fingertip back and forth just between her clit and her entrance. It was far too slow and far too teasing. “Oh goddess… oh goddess…” she chanted, her whole body winding tighter and tighter. The water could not disguise the slickness that eased Salanei's attentions either.

In a single motion, Salanei slid two fingers deep inside her and crooked them, pressing against her walls while circling her clit with her thumb, and the queen shattered. Salanei was fairly certain she’d soaked through her own underwear, but nothing could distract her from the tight, clenching heat as pleasure ripped through the other woman and swept her away with it. She gave herself completely to it and convulsed, water slopping over the edge of the bath and onto the floor and drenching Salanei's loose trousers too.

“You’re so beautiful,” Salanei crooned as the queen continued to come. “Goddess, but you’re so beautiful…” She kept the pressure inside the queen’s body with her fingertips, easing her through it until finally Ria slumped back against the bath, her chest heaving, her eyes closed, and the softest, sweetest look of joy on her face.

When she’d caught her breath, she opened her eyes with a flutter of golden lashes and whispered, “I want to do that to you.”

“I’m yours,” Salanei replied with a wry smile, withdrawing her fingers and tracing a fond touch across her sensitive inner thigh without removing her hand from the water.

“Give me a moment to feel my legs again,” Ria said, “And then help me out of here, and I’ll return the favour. I do feel bad that you were on the floor though,” she said, a tiny frown pinching her eyebrows together.

Salanei laughed hoarsely and said, “If you knew how wet I was, you wouldn’t have said that.”

The queen went still, a surprised smile on her face. “That got you wet? Doing that to me?”

“You have no idea.”

With that, Ria stood somewhat shakily, water cascading down her perfect body, and, with her eyes practically glowing, said, “Show me.”

___

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[thebibliomancer]

Flames of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 28

Flames of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because the battle rages on. What am I going to do, just not read more? Ridiculous.

Last times on book: The seven fires of the Gelfling clans have been lit thanks to the efforts of Team Naia and also Rian helped. The Emperor was eavesdropping on the fire group call and brought eleven friends to Stone-in-the-Wood to murder the Gelfling for their insolence. With a sneaky ambush plan, the Gelfling manage to split up the Skeksis so they can be fought by clumps of Gelflling but as soon as the Emperor gets annoyed with the protagonists, he reveals a surprise of his own. skekMal the Hunter shows up and yoinks Rian up the Stonewood tower.

Chapter 28

The Emperor is real smug for a while and then eats dirt; so much for Legendary Swords.

The Emperor is real smug about having skekMal swoop in and kidnap Rian off the battlefield. And super smug about how baffled and distraught the protagonists are that it happened.

He even asks if they’ll try to fight without Rian or whether “Rian’s little toy” was the only weapon they had.

Maybe its not the time for subplot but it does feel weird that the Emperor has Naia and Gurjin in front of him and he doesn’t... care? Or recognize that its specifically them?

There’s been so much plot time spent on the Skeksis specifically wanting to capture the twins to squeeze the twin magic out of them for... reasons? Aughra thought that the Emperor thought it would let him slurp up his counterpart’s power? Or something? And skekSa thought that sounded like the dumbest thing she’d heard in her life.

But as recently as skekSa’s battle in the Sog, the Emperor wanting Naia and Gurjin captured was a thing. That was why skekSa tracked them down. It was her last chance and all.

And now that subplot doesn’t matter.

The Emperor doesn’t acknowledge them. He doesn’t make a decision on whether to order them captured or that he’s so angry that he just wants them dead at this point. He doesn’t even mention that skekSa was supposed to get them and she’s failed him for the last time.

I would have liked him to mention skekSa, give us some Emperor-side context for what she feared if she didn’t capture Naia and Gurjin.

But, it seems like that whole thing has been dropped.

It makes this whole part of the book feel less connected to the rest of the YA book series. Like... its prose DLC stapled to the end. Buy the One More Fight Flames of the Dark Crystal DLC.

ANYWAY.

Hey. In prose and not-puppets? The Second Battle of Stone-in-the-Wood gets brutal.

All around them, in pockets of battle throughout Stone-in-the-Wood, Gelfling and Skeksis voices screamed almost in unison. Trees near the border of the clearing had been lit up, choking the air with whorls of ember and stinking black smoke. Naia flinched as the Ritual Master smashed his scepter into a band of Gelfling rebels, killing one instantly and wounding the other two. Across the clearing, the Chamberlain knocked a Spriton off his Landstrider -- Lun -- and plunged his twisted dagger into his belly. Where his blood fell, the earth darkened.

Lun.... ;__;

(Bit weird for the Chamberlain to be the one who did that murder though. He’s described as standing right at the Emperor’s back so he shouldn’t be across the clearing. Unless the across the clearing is in reference to the Ritual Master and I’m bad at reading comprehension. VERY POSSIBLE. Anyway.)

Above the battle, skekMal the Hunter reaches the top of the Stonewood tower and just chucks Rian up there.

Rian managed to hold onto his special, cool, magical Plot Sword so despite being hurt in the climb, he gets up to face the Hunter.

And it looks very cool, by the way. (Source)

Back down at the battle, the Emperor suggests

“When the Hunter kills him, this battle will be over,” skekSo said. “This battle and this resistance. This rebellion. Over, in one move. Tiny flames die so quickly.”

Gurjin and Naia both insist that Rian will totally win.

Naia even says “The Gelfling and the sword have called upon Rian as their champion, and he will win” but she’s wracked with doubts. Whether Rian can defeat a beast like skekMal but also whether that’s even a good and ideal outcome since it will kill her good friend urVa.

The Emperor gets annoyed that he keeps giving these speeches telling the Gelfling to abandon all hope and they stubbornly remain defiant.

So he pulls out a sword and attacks Naia, Gurjin, and Amri dual wielding his scepter of office and a sword.

Like all Skeksis, he’s a beast compared to a Gelfling but after fighting skekSa, Naia is less than impressed. skekSo doesn’t have skekSa’s fighting prowess. He’s just swinging around reckless and angry.

Since Naia threw away her weapon back at Great Smerth so she’s blocking the Emperor’s sword with A ROCK whenever she can’t dodge. Just some rock.

Meanwhile, up on the Stonewood tower, things take a turn.

At the top of the rise, in sight of all who watched, skekMal the Hunter brought his sword down on Rian.

Metal flew in splinters, reflecting the afternoon sky. The azure light flickered as it struck the shared of the now-shattered sword blade that exploded out from between Rian and skekMal. Rian stepped away as metal pieces crashed to the ground.

Then all went still. The reverberation of Rian’s sword breaking echoed like a funeral song, a dirge that made Naia’s bones want to weep. Everyone heard it and everyone stopped. The Skeksis, weapons raised for slaying Gelfling. The Gelfling of the seven clans, scattered between them, many climbing the rise of stones that towered at the center of it all.

skekMal let out a booming laugh, holding up his weapons. Its scarred blade remained intact, whole and proof of what it had just destroyed.

And in Rian’s hand was a hilt with a jagged twist of broken metal.

Every face that could turned upward. Every eye saw Rian, staring numbly at what remained of the golden-hilted sword, falling to his knees in disbelief.

Welp. Farewell, unnamed Dual Glaive.

You were more underwhelming than your televised version.

The Age of Resistance Netflix Dual Glaive summoned the talking fires without the need for a quest to each clan. It could drain essence... for some reason. Rian used that to defeat skekVar. And, uh, it got broke.

But I think the not-explicitly-called Dual Glaive being a let down is kind of the point.

A lot of the YA novels have been questioning if violence is the right way to defeat the Skeksis and what alternate methods may be used. Its lampshaded that its incongruous for a sword to be the answer to all of that.

So the sword gets broken after being used in combat a little. Well, it has been sitting untouched in the Tomb of Relics for who knows how long. And Skeksis metal has been established as super tough stuff. Yeah, sorry, the legendary sword got broken.

But this isn’t a story that resolves with hitting something with a legendary sword.

Dark Crystal is a different beast from Legend of Zelda.

Anyway again.

While Naia is distracted by the plot sword breaking, the Chamberlain grabs her, shakes her senseless (despite her attempts to defend herself with her rock), and tosses her on the ground in front of the Emperor.

She pushed herself up as the Emperor’s shadow hovered nearer. Clutched her stone and dug her fingers into the earth and met his eyes, even as he raised his sword to kill her.

“I won’t give up,” she said. She felt a tear that had finally slipped past her lashes, one of grief and anguish, that had seen what she had seen. The tiny drop of water slipped off her cheek onto the ground and disappeared. “You can kill me. But you can’t change me. The forest is forever.”

Orange and red wings flashed in front of the sun. The Emperor’s cries were garbled as a Gelfling shot through the air. With a mighty cry, Maudra Fara struck him in the face with both feet, hard and fast as a bola stone.

YES! I LOVE A DYNAMIC ENTRY!

“Naia!” she shouted. “Go to Rian!”

She groaned as the Emperor’s talons pierced her body. At first Naia thought she was gone, but before she went, she drove her spear beneath the Emperor’s metal mask and jerked, snapping it off his beak with a grisly spray of gore.

“Go to Rian,” she said again over the Emperor’s screams. “Go --”

Her final command ended abruptly on the Emperor’s sword.

;__; >

Farewell, Mauda Fara. You went down kicking and I respect the hell out of that.

And her death marks a major turning point. As every remaining clan shows up to join the battle!

Wings of every color filled the sky: Sifa and Dousan, Grottan and Vapra. Fire and swords rained down upon the Skeksis, spears and arrows flying from the Gelfling who rushed from the woods on foot and on the backs of Landstriders dressed in the indigos and silvers of Ha’rar. Rainbow light filled the smoking ruins, flashing off iridescent wings and the banners of seven Gelfling clans.

Woo!

Adding to the chaos of sudden reinforcements, they enter the battle by dropping a whole bunch of fire dust smoke bombs on the Skeksis. The Gelfling have escalated to chemical warfare.

The Emperor still comes after Naia even with all this happening.

But before he can even raise his sword, he gets broadsided by a Landstrider! AND THEN BY A SECOND ONE!

This battle just got amazing.

It knocks him on his ass and knocks him away from his sword.

They should just keep hitting him with Landstriders if you ask me. Every time he gets up just BONK right back to rolling in the dirt.

That’ll either take the fight out of him or he’ll get so mad he’ll supplex a Landstrider. Either way, I want to see it.

The first rider wheeled her Landstrider about with perfected ease. Naia had never seen a Sifa on one of the tall beasts before, let alone such an expert rider. When the soldier raised her visor, though, she understood. The sunny, freckled face was a welcome one.

“Go!” Tae called down. She turned her head so Naia could see the crystal spider clinging to her hair, whispering in her ear. “Tavra and I will take care of these Skeksis fools!”

TavraTae!

Glad to see Tae up and not in a coma but I have so many questions!

You guys were supposed to handle the Grottan and Stonewood fires so where the heck were you and why did Rian have to handle it instead?

Also, I see that Tae is still lending her body to the cause. The cause of “Tavra is awesome.” So, like, in the long term was Onica’s vision right? Tae did meet Tavra that day in the storm. Is Tavra Tae’s significant Vapra? But in a less straightforward manner.

Like, is this going to be a permanent arrangement?

Dangit, if only this wasn’t the middle of a battle and TavraTae could stop and explain what’s going on with them.

Amri tries to stop Naia from going to help Rian because he’s afraid for her but Gurjin is still in bro-mode and tells Amri to let her go.

You’re a bro, Gurjin.

I’m glad that you’ve dealt with your deal and have gotten back to being the cool Gurjin.

Also, this is maybe funny just to me but Naia probably shouldn’t be the one who goes to help Rian.

She’s the protagonist and the POV so that’s why she has to. In fact, until she goes up there, Rian’s climactic confrontation with the Hunter is almost as off-page as the rest of Rian’s adventures in YA book land.

But any other non-Drenchen winged Gelfling would be a better option since they’d be able to fly up there much more quickly than Naia with her swimming wings.

I’m glad Fara saved Naia (and sad she died) but rather than telling Naia to go help Rian, she could have just flown up with the wings she has.

But to be fair: I assume that everyone in the battle is trying their hardest and can’t just break off. Naia was trying to fight the Emperor with a rock but he keeps getting knocked over by Landstriders so she’s actually free to go to Rian.

“Hmmmmm,” sneered the Emperor, pulling himself to his feet with an awful cough. He spat blood, weaponless, surrounded by the chaos as the battle shifted to the Gelfling’s favor. “Let her go. Let her die up there too, for all the Gelfling to see.”

“Trust me,” she whispered. First to Gurjin, then to Amri. “Trust me.”

Amri’s fingers tightened, then released. Naia gave her brother and her friend a last look, trying to pour every feeling into it, then turned away and ran for the rise.

I cannot believe. That the Emperor would so cruelly steal skekSil’s catchphrase. After all his trine of loyal service.

Tsk tsk.

[ghost-town-story]

FebruarOC Day 18: Ryder

(And this time this boy is the same as last year’s! (rip my naming conventions. seriously.) Anyhoot, once again combining with an ockissweek prompt, “night”)

Night was just beginning to fall when the back door slid open, releasing a familiar redhead into the backyard. Alec paused and looked around. When his gaze passed over Ryder, Ryder raised a hand to wave.

Alec immediately made a beeline for him. “Is everything okay?” he asked the moment he got within earshot. “I noticed you weren’t inside, and Max said you needed air—”

“I’m fine Alec.” Ryder rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the fond note that crept into his voice. “More like I needed space to not piss off Max and Ria and probably everybody else.”

Alec stared at him in bemusement, which quickly morphed into understanding as Ryder took a drag of his cigarette. “Oh.”

“So, since I’m not shitty enough to light up in somebody else’s house, and Max and Ria lowkey hate it…” Ryder gestured vaguely with the cigarette. “Taking a break for fresh air.”

“That’s the dumbest excuse,” Alec said bluntly.

Ryder raised an eyebrow. “What’s dumber, me using that excuse knowing nobody buys it, or you believing it?”

“Dick.” Even in the low light, Ryder could see Alec’s cheeks flushing, close to matching his hair for a few moments.

“Sorry. Love you.” Ryder didn’t think it was possible before that moment for Alec’s face to turn even more red.

Alec scuffed his feet against the ground for a moment, then, his voice barely above a mumble, asked, “D’you want company?”

Ryder shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind. Only disclaimer is you can’t bitch about the smoke. I’m not gonna be a dick about it, but I’m also not putting it out before I have to.”

“Fair enough.” Alec slid to the ground next to Ryder. Whatever his opinion on Ryder’s smoking was, he kept his unspoken promise and kept those thoughts to himself. Ryder ruffled his hair with his free hand, and made sure to blow his smoke away from Alec.

Overhead, the stars slowly began to appear, shining softly around the tiny plume of smoke from Ryder’s cigarette.

Alec was the first to break the silence. “Hey Ry?”

“Hm?”

“What do you know about Tides of Man?”

Ryder choked on a lungful of smoke. “Where the fuck did you hear that name from?” he managed to gasp out between coughs.

“Are you okay?” Alec hesitated, shifting as if he was about to stand up.

“I’m fine.” Ryder waved off his concern as he started to get his breathing back under control. “Where did—What the hell have you and Jay been talking about?”

“It wasn’t exactly Jay,” Alec defended himself.

Ryder raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

“I may have been stalking your Twitter the other day—”

“Oh my god.”

“—and somebody in your replies said something about Tides of Man, so I asked Jay, but he said I should talk to you about it, so…” Alec finished with a shrug. “Here we are. Apparently killing you.”

“I’m fine.” Ryder debated another drag, but his lungs were still aching from his coughing fit. “Why the hell were you stalking my Twitter?”

“You’re stalling.”

“You’re the one admitting to internet stalking me.”

Alec huffed. “Accidental rabbit hole. Now quit stalling. I’m curious.”

Ryder sighed heavily. “Did you think to look it up?”

Alec didn’t respond, but his sulky silence gave Ryder all the answer he needed.

“Alright, fine, I’ll quit stringing you along.” Mostly. Ryder figured he’d given his lungs enough of a break, and took another drag, letting the smoke settle into his lungs.

“So,” he finally said. “A long long time ago, before we ever met—”

Alec made a little noise that sounded caught somewhere between amusement and skepticism.

“—I was in this little band called Tides of Man. Just me and Declan. Declan Powell.”

Alec blinked, not a trace of recognition in his face. Ryder couldn’t help but laugh. “Figures you’re like the one person who doesn’t know who that is. I’ll get to it,” he added as Alec began to either protest or question Ryder.

“Anyways, so we have this band, it kinda takes off, we’re not doing half bad, then one day outta the blue Declan comes out and says he’s going solo. Dumps me, ditches the band, and fucks off into the metaphorical sunset.”

“What a dick,” Alec said.

Ryder laughed a little. “Join the club bud. But yeah, after I got ditched I went pretty radio-silent online till we started doing From the Ashes stuff, so I’m not surprised old fans keep bringing up Tides of Man.” He made a face and took another drag from his cigarette. “But boy howdy has that ship fuckin burned.”

“Cause of Declan, or…”

“Yeah, in part. But also,” Ryder gave Alec a grin, “I got something way better here, don’t I?”

And there was that blush again, even as Alec nodded in agreement.

“So that’s that,” Ryder said with finality.

Silence fell for a few minutes, though Ryder recognized Alec’s fidgeting that meant he was trying to find the right words.

Finally, Alec spoke again. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”

“I’ll do my best,” Ryder promised.

“Twitter rabbit hole might’ve happened because I was curious how you already had so many followers,” Alec reluctantly admitted. “Which, yeah, old fans from old band makes a whole lot of sense now.”

Ryder smirked and shook his head so his hair flipped back. “Nah, it’s cause I have that pretty-boy charm.”

Alec stared at him for a moment, then laughter bubbled past his lips. “You,” he gasped out, “are so full of shit.”

“Hey now, and here I was promising not to laugh,” Ryder teased lightly. Alec tried to muffle his laughter, but with little success.

He looked so pretty in the fading light, eyes reflecting the dying sunlight and budding starlight, and before Ryder thought too hard about it, he leaned in and kissed Alec quick.

“Sorry,” he apologized even as he pulled away. “I probably taste like smoke.”

“Yeah.” Alec blinked, his expression a little dazed. “It’s, uh. Not terrible?”

“Compared to Max or Ria’s reactions, I’ll take it.” Ryder took the opportunity to steal one more kiss from Alec before taking one last drag of his cigarette. “Ready to head back inside?”

“Are you?” Alec asked.

Ryder nodded, putting out the remains of his cigarette in his ashtray.

“Alright then.” Alec pushed himself back to his feet and helped Ryder up. And together, they headed back towards the house.  

[keiths3dart]

Max in the Black Lodge: A Life is Strange / Twin Peaks Crossover.

Part 2

Chloe headed through a gap in the trees, panning her flashlight to either side rather than in front of her. It was this that led to her literally walking straight into the man she had completely failed to notice. Chloe's heart froze and her blood ran like ice. Who the fuck could she have run into in the middle of the woods at night other than Max?

Regaining some measure of composure, she pushed herself away from the man, and brought her flashlight to bear on him. The sharp weathered features of a well built, grey haired native american in a Sheriff's department uniform were illuminated.

The man winced as the beam from Chloe's flashlight dazzled him. He put his hand on Chloes and gently but inexorably lowered the light beam from his face. His companion approached, a younger man but still with hair peppered with gray. He too wore the uniform of the Twin Peaks Sheriff's department. It was he who spoke first;

"Hey Hawk, have we found them?".

"I think so Bobby, according to the descriptions i got from Margaret i think this is Chloe"

"What about the other one? Max?".

"We got seperated, have you seen her?" Chloe blurted out, her head swimming. What were the cops doing out here? Why were they looking for them in particular? and how had they managed to find each other in an enormous forest which stretched all the way into Canada?

The older man, deputy Hawk looked concerned. "when did you become separated?" he asked.

Chloe had to think, she and Max had stuck together for most of the hike up into the hills but as the darkness set in, they'd taken slightly different paths around obstacles and before they had known it, they were no longer in sight of each other. It had almost been like the forest itself had gently and insidiously prised them apart and set them on divergent paths.

"I don't know" she stammered, and it was true, when it came down to it she had no idea how long she and Max had been wandering the woods separately.

Hawk looked at her kindly, an experienced woodsman as well as having a lifelong experience of Twin Peaks and its surroundings gave him an understanding of how strange things could get out here in the woods, especially for the unprepared or unwary. He was just glad that he and Bobby had found the first of the two girls without any harm coming to them.

"Bobby, get onto base and let them know we've located Chloe and she's ok. We're gonna continue on to find Max. And Bobby, make sure Lucy gives Margaret a call".

"Right away Hawk" Deputy Bobby Briggs answered and thumbed the transmit key on his radio.

"We took a call from Margaret, the woman you met in the Diner earlier".

"The one with the Log?".

"Lucy, it's Bobby, are you receiving? over".

"Yes, she told us she'd relayed a message to you and that you'd run off into the woods".

"We've located one of the girls, Chloe".

"Later, her log felt that there was something seriously amiss so she called us at the Sheriff's department".

"Yes, that's the one".

"So me and Bobby came to find you, there are hidden darknesses to this place".

"Yeah, this forest has been giving me the creeps for hours".

"No Lucy, i don't think she's a natural blue".

Bobby had raised his eyes to the heavens in exasperation.

"Im worried about Max, what have we got ourselves into?".

"Lucy, just put it on the damn form as 'Dyed', Tell Harry we're proceeding onwards, and get poor Margaret on the horn and let her know what's going on".

"A lot of things happened here a few years ago Chloe, We need to press on but i'll explain as we go."

Deputy Hawk motioned for Chloe to follow him and he began to tell Chloe about the strange history of Twin Peaks. Bobby followed silently to the rear. He had been a high school senior through the entire episode and it had been a tumultuous and traumatic time for him which he didn't feel like contributing to. He was lost in his own thoughts, heading he knew for the very place his own father Air Force Major Garland Briggs had disappeared from never to be seen again.

So Chloe learned that night about this strange town, about Laura Palmer's murder by her father Leland, Leland's own death, the investigations by FBI Agent Dale Cooper, Dale Cooper's own disappearance, reappearance, disappearance again. About Wyndam Earle, about The Black Lodge and "Bob".

Christ and she'd thought Arcadia Bay was fucked up. Why had Rachel and Frank come to this place? (Apart from Norma Jennings' heavenly Cherry Pie) and why had Rachel disappeared again? On top of it all, where was Max? Please God let her be safe, Chloe couldn't even bear to picture being alone again.

The room was neither cold nor warm, and the sounds of soft Jazz permeated the air, the hypnotic shuffle beat having an almost soporific effect on Max. She looked around to take in her surroundings. A second ago she'd been in the woods at night freezing her nipples off in the autumnal chill of North Washington State and now she was.... Well now she was sure she was tripping, she was in a room. The tiled floor was an eye bending zigzag pattern of black and white and the entire space was ringed with heavy crimson drapes. There were few furnishings. 4 easy chairs, a statue and a small table with a bowl in it.

If it had just been the surroundings and the circumstances, then Max might have been able to not freak out. But it was the fact that the room was not empty that made her wonder why she felt so fucking calm. Why everything seemed to happen slowly and calmly and in silence. An almost cloying serenity when her very soul should be clawing at the back of her head before making a bolt for the nearest exit.

Sitting in the chair in front of her, in a dapper red velvet suit was the oddest little man Max had ever seen, his head swaying in time to the music. To his right sat Rachel Amber, silent and unreacting to Max's presence. She simply sat, a benignly neutral expression on her face, looking over at the occupant of the chair opposite to her, on the dwarf's left.

Mark Jefferson.

Similarly oblivious to Max's arrival, he sat looking over at Rachel and Max's stomach churned with hatred for that despicable man, what he'd done to her in the dark room, what he'd done to Kate and those other poor girls he'd groomed then drugged. And how he'd manipulated Nathan into trying the same thing with Rachel with (Prior to Max's temporal intervention) fatal consequences for them both. How he'd killed Chloe, and Nathan, and Victoria and driven Kate to take her own life. But still Max felt like a puppet in somebody else's show. she still stood there just taking this bizarre scene in. The little man began rubbing his hands.

And laughed, the sound strangely distorted, almost reversed in sound, like the backing to one of The Beatles' more psychedelic studio explorations.

"S'TEL KCOR" The little man clapped his hands once.

"I EVAH DOOG SWEN! TAHT MUG UOY EKIL SI GNIOG OT EMOC KCAB NI ELYTS". He motioned his head towards Rachel.

"S'EHS YM NISUOC, TUB T'NSEOD EHS KOOL TSOMLA YLTCAXE EKIL LEHCAR REBMA?".

Max spoke for the first time since her arrival.

"But it is Rachel Amber. Are you Rachel Amber?"

"I LEEF EKIL I WONK REH, TUB SEMITEMOS YM SMRA DNEB KCAB". Rachel appeared pained as she said this.

"S'EHS DELLIF HTIW STERCES, EREHW ER'EW MORF EHT SDRIB GNIS A YTTERP GNOS, DNA S'EREHT SYAWLA CISUM NI EHT RIA".

The little man sprang from his chair as the music in the room began to not so much get louder but simply permeate Max's consciousness more and began to dance. Backwards. Max became lost and hypnotised by the scene, losing all track of time or reality.

Chloe's chest felt like it was on fire, the two policemen were setting a brisk pace through the woods, Hawk darting his eyes this way and that before deciding on a course. Like a hunter on the scent. Bobby had taken up station towards the rear.

"Christ, i'm hella unfit, i really should quit smoking".

"Just a little further Chloe, i think we are close. can you feel it in the air? like static electricity".

"Hawk" Bobby called out sharply, "is that a light off to the left?".

"Max!" Chloe called out as Hawk veered off to the left to investigate the light. No answer. Not even the hooting of the owls. Their damned racket had been driving Chloe nuts but now she missed their reassuringly natural presence. The watchful, expectant silence of the woods worked on her anxiety like a violent catalyst causing it to well up inside her like a tsunami choking, smothering, cloying and overwhelming. She staggered, her head reeling with every conceivable fear her subconscious could throw in front of her eyes. The strong arms of Officer Briggs caught her before she could topple over completely and Chloe allowed herself to be gently guided forward into the little sycamore ringed clearing Hawk had led them to.

The little clearing with the smouldering campfire. Max's discarded flashlight, still on. Max's bag.

But no Max.

[heroic-endeavors]

The Fall of Radiance

Summery: The Fall of Radiant Garden, from the perspective of Ria the Songstress.

Ria was making her way home from school. She walked alongside her cousin. He was talking about this one student who seemed to have viewed him as some kind of rival. Well, Isa did get what he wanted. Wonder if he knew that her cousin wasn’t all that interested in working under Ansem.

The streets were as lively as ever. Yet, at the same time something felt amiss. She wasn’t sure what it was. Just that something terrible was just about to happen, as unlikely as that sounded.

“Were you planning of meeting that Xehanort guy tonight?” He asked her. She stopped in her tracks. What was this feeling. It was as if some invisable hand grabbed at her heart. “Yes. At least that is what I’m hoping.” Her cousin stopped too before turning to her. “You hope.” Ria nodded, “Sometimes something would come up. I think Ansem would give him some kind of task at the last moment sometimes. He doesn’t really talk about it.”

He nodded, “So, what do you think of him? That Xehanort?” He asked. “He seems nice. Kinda sucks he lost his memories.” She let out a sigh, “I do wonder though, what happened.”

“You okay?” He asked. He noticed she seemed a bit off. “It’s nothing. Just, a weird feeling I guess.” Ria said before she kept on walking. Soon enough there were screams. These... dark creatures running around the streets  attacking people. Without another word the two of them ran. The two of them would eventually become separated.

Ria would see Xehanort. Walking calmly among the panicked crowds. His expression seemed blank. Ria would run on to him. Calling his name. “Hey! Xehanort! We have to leave! The town is dangerous.” When she became close enough he lifted his... sword? Some weird shaped blade. He’d thrust it towards her chest.

Without anticipating the attack Ria is stunned. She couldn’t avoid it. It hurt. It hurt a lot. With that pain was a weird feeling. A painful feeling spreading though her body. The pain turning to some kind of numbness. Is she going to die?

Xehanort pulled the blade from her chest. Some kind of dark smoke seeping from the wound. At least it looks like some kind of smoke. Xehanort looked annoyed. “Ah, the one who wanted to fix me. Not the only one.” He muttered as she fell. Landing on her back was staring up at the sky. Storm clouds hung overhead. It would begin to rain.

Then everything went dark. A shining light floating upward. It was warm. But soon enough it was gone.

***

Ria woke up in an unfamiliar place. The room was completely white. Where was she? She sat up and looked around. There were some odd creatures around her. But unlike those dark creatures all of these didn’t seem hostile. In fact they all seem as confused as she is.

Something was feeling wrong. Looking at her hands she noticed something seemed off. Her skin seemed to have no color. She managed to get up on her feet. She felt unsteady. She noticed a mirror not too far off.

Slowly she make her way towards it. Walking unsteadily. When she reached it she’d see her reflection. An odd outfit. Pants that were mostly purple that faded to pink. Some kid of black shirt that didn’t seem to cover much of her colorless skin.

Then there was her face. It looked normal aside from the lack of color and the glowing yellow eyes. It was weird seeing her emotionless face staring back at her. She noticed some of these creatures looked a bit like her. As if she were one of them. Seeing an unadended hat she’d put it on before turning back to the mirror and seeing she was no different.

Soon enough she’d see a few men walk into the room. Both wore black coats. One looked like Xehanort.. the other... Braig? “It’s going smoothly.” Xehanort commented as the two of them talked past. “It is a good start. We already have eight.” Then they were gone.