#which makes it more frustrating if the upper management or whoever was like well . we dont care . she had too many problems bye

[yutadori]

really tired u__u the thought of looking for a new job soon is so depressing... being hired again feels so out of reach. when i think about trying to keep a job for more than a month it feels like such a far away concept. this is the second time i got terminated this YEAR.... it kind of feels like i should stop trying. when will i stop having work anxiety ...... it feels like it's pointless to try god i seriously feel so defeated especially since im not confident in my skills x__x im very clumsy and forgetful and slow and ouagh . had all of those events not happened, how long would i have stayed ?? would they have gotten sick of me and let me go anyway? hggghhhhhhh god i am just a girl.........

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.

Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D

Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.

**

Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.

Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.

Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.

For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.

But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.

Case in point:

The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.

The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.

Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.

He knows them.

He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.

He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.

This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency–

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.

It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.

The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.

The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–

–the Batman.

The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.

It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.

None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.

The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.

A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.

It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.

Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.

O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.

She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.

After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.

O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.

B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.

It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.

The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.

**

And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.

Natch.

For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.

O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.

The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.

Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.

A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.

Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.

The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.

B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.

Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.

Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.

"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.

"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.

"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.

– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.

Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.

First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.

The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.

But.

The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.

The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.

His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.

"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.

The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"

The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.

The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.

When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.

Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.

Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).

And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.

The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.

Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.

"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.

They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.

A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.

The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.

The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.

The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”

For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”

And then he lunges.

**

The fight happens very differently this time.

The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.

He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.

“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”

“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”

“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”

“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”

“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”

“Lies. All of it lies!”

Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”

And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.

It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.

When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.

[mysticalnightenthusiast]

S.N.A.F.U- A Daniel Ricciardo FanFic CH19-'Meeting the Friends’

Soon enough Daniel and Eadaoin arrived back at the apartment and the preparations for that evening’s guests went into full swing.  Daniel kicked off his shoes and swung into chef mode.  Eadaoin changed into a more casual ankle length strapless summer dress of the palest yellow that immediately revealed an elaborate shoulder and upper arm tattoo something that immediately drew Daniel’s attention.

“You have ink?” he asked keenly.

“Yeah most of which isn’t visible in decent company” Eadaoin replied “this one on my shoulder is the most recent one, only finished it a month ago.”

“What’s the design of?”

Eadaoin pulled her hair to the side and pulled down the material just under her shoulder blade to reveal a brightly coloured gothic style phoenix tattoo with ‘Éirigh cosúil le feiniméan’ (Rise like a phoenix) written underneath it.

“The script says ‘rise like a phoenix’ she said allowing him to trace the outline of the intricate tattoo with an index finger.

“Whoever did that has mad skills,” Daniel said admiringly “how long did it take?”

“Far longer than I would have liked,” Eadaoin replied making a face “the outlining itself took three hours then fortnightly sessions of four hours each for another two months.  God next to breaking my ankle it’s the worst pain I’ve ever experienced “I’d never do something this elaborate again.”

“Yeah the long sessions can be painful,” Daniel admitted “where else do you have ink?”

Eadaoin grinned and winked at him. “That will be revealed in the fullness of time,” she informed him rubbing her nose against his “you’ll see them all eventually.”

Daniel wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips against hers. “I look forward to it,” he murmured mid-kiss.

Daniel and Eadaoin were totally consumed with each other and sharing a particularly heated kiss when the apartment intercom buzzed.  Daniel pulled back and let out a groan of frustration. “I swear every time we really snog something or someone interrupts us!” he exclaimed striding over to the intercom “if it’s Max I’m going to kick him in the nuts.....yeah?”

“Brother its Michael, Blake’s here too,” the voice of Daniel’s personal trainer said “and we have booze!”

“Come on up,” Daniel replied.

“Ahhh now I’m nervous,” Eadaoin confessed.

“You’ll be fine darling,” Daniel assured her “Michael and Blake don’t bite, and they’re really fun guys, Well Michael is a bit of an arse during on of our training sessions but I pay him to be like that so it’s kinda my fault.”

A few minutes later an enthusiastic knock came at the door a Daniel answered it whilst Eadaoin remained in the kitchen and let Michael his trainer and Blake his manager in.

“Hey dude, shit luck today,” Michael said sympathetically slapping his charge on the shoulder.

“Yeah but it happens, there’s always next week,” Daniel said philosophically knocking fists with Blake “good to see ya, come in there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Daniel led his friends further into the apartment to the kitchen where Eadaoin was bustling around the kitchen lining up shot glasses on the end of the bench.

“Guys?  This beautiful woman in my kitchen is Eadaoin, darling this is Michael my PT and this is Blake my manager.” He said.

Eadaoin walked around the bench and greeted Daniel’s friends with a smile that split her face in two. “Nice to meet you guys,” she said shaking each of their hands in turn.

“Likewise, we’ve been hearing about you for weeks and weeks and we-” Blake began.

“Yeah yeah shut up,” Daniel groused his face turning a distinct shade of rouge “that’s a lot of bulls-”

“No it isn’t,” Michael piped up putting a bag on the bench “in our session three days ago you literally didn’t talk about anything but Eadaoin, even when I made you do thirty burpees and a five minute wall sit back to back.  Wall sits usually shut you up.”

“Now you’re really embarrassing him,” Eadaoin joked reaching for Daniel’s hand and giving it a squeeze “That’s alright babe I talk a lot about you too.”

Within ten minutes the intercom buzzed again and the last three guests, Max, Kelly and Lando arrived.  Daniel led them out onto the balcony where the BBQ was sizzling away and Eadaoin was holding court with Michael and Blake.

“Darling, more intros,” Daniel said taking her hand and leading hr over to Max, Kelly and Lando “this is Lando, of course you know him....Lando this is Eadaoin.”

“Good to finally meet you,” Lando said to Eadaoin shaking her hand “Danny Ric’s been talking about you for weeks.”

“So I hear,” Eadaoin replied laughing at Daniel who rolled his eyes skyward “good to finally meet you too, was too busy at the track today.”

“And this is Max and his girlfriend Kelly,” Daniel said next introducing the Dutchman “and before he opens his mouth you ought to know he’s an insufferable clown.”

“Hoi Max, leuk je te ontmoeten, ik heb veel over je gehoord” (Hi Max, great to meet you, I've heard a lot about you) ” Eadaoin said in word perfect Dutch “ik heb veel over je gehoord, gefeliciteerd met de overwinning vandaag” (congrats on the win today)’

Daniel choked on his prosecco and erupted into hacking coughs and Kelly laughed out loud at his reaction.

“Jij spreekt Nederlands?” (You speak Dutch?) Max asked in amusement, shaking Eadaoin’s hand “En hij weet het niet, toch?” (and he doesn’t know does he?)

Eadaoin shook her head and grinned as Kelly gave the shocked Australian a tea towel that was on a nearby table. “Nee, ik wilde hem verrassen....nog een keer” (No, I wanted to surprise him....again)

“Dutch?” Daniel said weakly once he’d recovered “any other languages?”

Eadaoin slipped her arm around his waist and grinned. “I know how to say fuck in French, Italian, Japanese and Serbian but apart from that, just the ones you know of.” She said.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Kelly said to Eadaoin “we’ve all heard a lot about you.”

“All good I hope.”

“Oh yeah definitely all good,” Max said accepting a glass of prosecco from Daniel.

“I’m going to steal Eadaoin for a bit,” Kelly announced taking Eadaoin’s arm after a sip of prosecco “we’re going to get drunk and talk about you guys and give you the opportunity to get drunk and talk about us.”

“Oooh that coud be dangerous brother!” Max informed Daniel.

Kelly and Eadaoin disappeared to the other end of the balcony and Daniel and Max made their way over to Michael, Blake and Lando who were gathered by the barbeque talking about that day’s race.

“Dude you are so punching about your weight with that one!” Blake teased “she’s gorgeous.”

“I know isn’t she?” Daniel replied with a huge grin “I’m a lucky sonofabitch.”

“So how did you meet her?” Michael asked in interest “despite the fact you’ve talked about her non-stop for weeks I don’t think any of us actually know how you two met.”

“These guys do,” Daniel replied gesturing to Max and Lando.

“But only because we busted him with a huge and I mean huge hickey on his neck whilst in Italy,” Lando piped up “seriously it looked like a tumor!”

Max let out a huge snort of laughter at the memory.

Daniel felt his face warm and chose to ignore his teammate’s teasing. “So back in mid-February I was still feeling pretty ordinary about what had happened in Bahrain and Andreas had just rung to tell me the race in Australia was off and the team was suspending season prep by two weeks,” he began “I decided to go for a run and ended up in Twickenham.  I had run so hard and long I had to stop because my chest hurt and I couldn’t breathe properly. I went to cross the road and head back home and I ran into her.  I ht the deck and head butted the towbar on a Land Rover splitting my forehead open and she fell down and broke and dislocated her ankle, we rode in the same ambulance to hospital and after I was treated and cleaned up I left my number with the triage nurse and asked her to pass it along to Eadaoin when she woke up and two days later I got a text.  I then visited her that day and every day for the following week whilst she was in hospital and we’ve kinda been keeping in touch ever since.”

“Kinda?” Lando exclaimed “bro you’ve had your nose in your phone constantly for the last four months!”

“Oh bullshit....” Daniel began.

“Well I don’t see you as often as he does but I wouldn’t disagree with that.” Max piped up laughing as Lando mimicked Daniel furiously texting “just about every time I’ve seen you lately you’ve been on your phone.”

“There are other people in my life you know!” Daniel exclaimed in amused exasperation “and they all get my attention too!”

“Yeah but none of them get attention like Eadaoin does I bet,” Michael said with a grin.

“I hope not, I love you brother but not like that.” Blake teased catching Daniel looking over at Eadaoin and flashing her a wink.

That comment made the group of men roar with laughter and Daniel blush a magnificent shade of scarlet.

“All jokes aside Dan you’ve been a different person these past few months,” Blake informed his friend “you’re more relaxed and don’t let the stress and frustration of your job get to you as much as you used to, you have a refreshed zest for life and it’s great to see.  After Bahrain I was really worried for you for a while.”

“Yeah we all were,” Max agreed “none of us would have blamed you if you spent the entire Winter break in an alcoholic stupor.”

“Weeell I almost was,” Daniel admitted picking up a pair of tongs and walking over to the barbeque “when I was in quarantine in Perth I was wasted every day.”

“I would have been too,” Michael said sympathetically “I don’t know Eadaoin that well yet but I can tell that she’s been good for you.  And it’s obvious as bollocks on a dog you’re into her.”

“Yup you’ve got it baaaaaad.” Lando added.

“Yeah I reckon I have,” Daniel said cheerfully flipping over a piece of steak.

“You introduced her to your folks yet?” Blake asked.

“Yeah last night,” Daniel replied “we talked to Mum and Dad for over an hour after we spoke to her parents and she intro’d me to them.  She greeted them in word perfect Italian too.”

“She speaks Italian too?” Max asked in surprise.

“Yeah but she’s still learning,” Daniel replied “she’s been taking twice weekly lessons for the last few months.”

“She learnt Italian for you?” Michael exclaimed “you lucky bastard Ricciardo, that’s a big thing to learn a language for someone you know.  She has it bad for you too.”

“Yeah I know,” Daniel replied looking up as together Eadaoin and Kelly laughed shrilly.

“So how did it go meeting her parents?” Lando asked.

“Better than expected,” Daniel confessed “Eadaoin said her Dad might be a bit gruff given what happened with her ex but he was actually far less intimidating than I was expecting.  He asked me if I cared for her and loosened up a lot when I said yes.  She also hadn’t let her parents know who I was either so when I appeared on screen I made him choke on his coffee.  Eadaoin had told me her family are big F1 fans so I figured her Dad wasn’t expecting her to be dating one of the drivers.”

“So the father in law is a fangirl?” Max asked with a snort of laughter haha!”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “He is not my father in law,” he said dryly “but kinda yeah, big fan of yours too apparently.”

“Well you’re sweet with her parents, that’s a good start,” Michael said “did you get bothered by the media at the track?”

“Not really,” Daniel confessed “a few photographers got nosey as we arrived and left the track both yesterday and today and a few of the guys at Sky F1 asked me a few questions off air but that’s the extent of it.  Eadaoin won’t be able to come to every race this year so I don’t really expect it to get too heavy.”

“It might do if word gets back to you know who that you’re off the market.” Blake informed his friend cautiously.

“Oh come on, Jem wouldn’t be like that would she?” Daniel said.

“Eh you never know bud, you knew Jem better than any of us and she was busted by you fucking another bloke and cornered people can do some weird shit,” Blake replied “my cousin’s ex went absolutely ape shit when he got a new partner after they divorced and made his life a living hell in court and out of it.  I’m not saying that’ll happen to you but just be careful eh?” 

“Will do.”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

After re-filling her glass of prosecco Eadaoin made her way back out to the balcony where Daniel was at the BBQ monitoring the food.  She slipped an arm around his waist and kissed him on the cheek in greeting.

“I’ve hardly talked to you all night,” he said “having fun?”

“I am,” Eadaoin replied “Kelly is great and we’ve already exchanged numbers and socials details and made plans to have lunch in London between the French and Styrian GP’s and you’re right Max is an insufferable clown.”

Daniel laughed heartily. “All my friends are,” he said with a chuckle “but they’re the best people to be around, I trust them with anything.”

“And I can see that,” Eadaoin said looking up at him “you know how fucking sexy it is to see you wielding a pair of tongs?”

“Just the tongs?” Daniel joked “what about my kiss the cook apron?”

“Both do it for me,” Eadaoin whispered in his ear “everything about you does it for meeee.” 

Daniel put down the tongs on the edge of the BBQ and drew Eadaoin close he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.  Eadaoin slid her hands up his chest and held his face in her hands and responded enthusiastically.

The loved up pair were interrupted a short time later by a shrill wolf whistle from Lando and cat calls and whoops from Blake, Max and Kelly.  Daniel grinned mid-kiss and dipped Eadaoin whilst she stuck out an arm and gave the group a middle finger.

“Jesus Christ Danny let her breathe man!” Blake called as the kiss continued “this is supposed to be a social barbeque not a CPR demonstration!”

The group roared with laughter as Danny pulled away from Eadaoin his face a magnificent shade of rouge. “Fuck you.” He told his friend.

“Let’s leave that sort of kissing til after everyone goes home huh?” Eadaoin suggested her cheeks a faint shade of pink “Blake’s right this isn’t a CPR demo.”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

“So what do you think?” Kelly asked Max, Blake and Michael as they watched Daniel and Eadaoin canoodle out on the balcony “you three have known Danny the longest is this the real deal for him?”

“Yes.” All three men chorused emphatically.

“I know its early days with Eadaoin but I never saw him act like this with Jem,” Blake said “and I knew them from Dan’s early days in the game.  I think they got used to each other, too used to each other and things went stale.  I don’t think things will go stale with those two, they put too much effort into each other for that to happen.”

“Yeah Eadaoin’s more like Danny in personality and has her own life outside of being the girlfriend of a F1 driver,” Michael added “Dan’s always says she doesn’t smother him and lets him be his own man, if that’s not a recipe for a successful long term relationship I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah, he’s a different guy,” Max chimed in with a chuckle “I mean he’s always been an insufferable ray of sunshine but now he’s just a nauseating insufferable ray of sunshine.”

“Well I like Eadaoin better than Jem,” Kelly declared “she’s more down to earth and less concerned with the trappings of being the partner of a millionaire than she was.  In fact I get the distinct impression Eadaoin doesn’t give a shit about Danny’s money, she told me she scolded him for paying her way over here.  I never heard Jem say that.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s happy,” Blake said draining the last mouthful of prosecco “alright who wants a refill?”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hours later the party wound up when Max and Kelly made to leave.

“We better head home, it’s getting late,” Kelly said embracing Daniel then Eadaoin “great to meet you Eadaoin, hope we see you trackside again soon.”

“You will, France is a possibility,” Eadaoin replied returning the other woman’s embrace “maybe even lunch this week before I head back to London.”

“Definitely!”

“Gaan we nu de hele tijd Nederlands praten? (So are we going to speak Dutch all the time now?) Max asked Eadaoin with a grin as he kissed her on each cheek.

“Laten we natuurlijk iedereen in de war brengen” (Of course, let's confuse the hell out of everyone)  Eadaoin replied with a grin “Echt goed je te ontmoeten Max is geen fangirl of zo” (Really good to meet you Max not being a fangirl or anything)

“Are you two going to speak Dutch all the time we socialise now?” Daniel asked in amused exasperation.

“We could teach you, then you could understand us,” Max said in amusement.

“And more than just cuss words,” Eadaoin teased “I know Max has taught you or the rude words.”

“Maybe the off season.”

Max and Kelly soon left and were thereafter followed by Michael and Blake leaving Daniel and Eadaoin alone.

“That went great!” Daniel exclaimed picking Eadaoin up and swinging her in a circle “I knew everyone would love you!  Did you have a good night?”

“I did,” Eadaoin replied wrapping her arms around his waist and listening the reassuring thump thump thump of his heart “I’m absolutely knackered and more than a little drunk though.”

Daniel pressed a kiss to her head. “Go to bed and rest up,” he said “maybe tomorrow we’ll head out for lunch maybe go for a drive, I’ve seen how you drool over my GT and can see how much you want to drive it.” “It’s more the driver I want to drive,” Eadaoin said with a wink “nighty night Driver Man see you in the morning.”

And leaving Daniel open mouthed Eadaoin skipped out of the kitchen and returned to her own room.

*******************************************************************************************

[patton-ly-absurd]

Spear of light, Sword of darkness

First previous

part 3!

Thea met Damian when they were both 2 months old. Thea while still young knew why it was an honor to meet him. He was the daughter of Talia, grandson of Ra’s Al Ghul. Both were the most powerful and dangerous assassins in the entire league, which begs the question in her mind. ‘Why am I being given the honor of seeing him?’

Thea saw in his eyes the green glow of darkness, not that anyone here would know what that means, heck she didn’t know what that means! But she knew it was true. She saw the glow on the sword he was going to pick, she knew it was his long before he did. The day he picked his sword she was there. She saw the words that glowed on his sword as it changed to his preference. “The glow of the darkness matches the light, though the two are separated they are always together, beware the one who makes the darkness kill, for though it does destroy it does not kill what the light guards. Beware the wrath of the light for whoever infects and abuses the dark,” she knew what the words said, they were a prophecy of things to come, a future that was not yet understood but true. For anything written in the language of the guardians was true.

From the look in Damian’s eyes she knew ‘He can’t read it’ but he definitely understood it was important. Well, probably she could only guess that’s what that look meant.

A month after Damian found his weapon, they started to train together. They would not talk during these sessions only communicating via the slight change of their expressions . Every detail meant a different thing, a slight twitch in her eye 'You're troubled aren’t you?' a slight movement of his brows 'You know this how?' A small movement of her lip 'Your eyes are slightly squinted, I know what that means,' this exchange happens while they are fighting, but their focus on the training never falters. Every little reaction also shows what they’re planning to do next, and they learn to completely understand each other in battle.

As a consequence of this they learned how to read people very well, how to tell what they’re thinking and what they may be planning. They only ever trained together, for they were ahead of everyone else their age and beyond.

At age five they started training with weapons other than their chosen ones. Learning how to turn anything into a weapon, take any option you can to get the upper hand. Only have a shirt that you can use? Take advantage of your enemy’s embarrassment to choke them with it. Only have table salt? Throw it in their eyes blind them and put them in a hold. You can use anything to get an upper-hand, and mastering that skill was what they had to learn.

While Thea excelled at this, Damian struggled. So while they were learning they had conversations their usual way 'How do you manage these situations? Table salt is hardly a feasible weapon,' he asked before looking back at the salt shaker like it killed his dog that he didn’t even have 'Well, let’s think about this for a moment. No it is not a offensive weapon,' he raised an eyebrow 'ok what is it then,' 'It’s a strategic weapon,' she answered 'Elaborate,' he commanded sounding frustrated 'Well, most of the time a salt shaker won’t do good with brute force, but what you can do is use it as a distraction, or throw salt in someone’s eyes to disorient or blind them,' he nodded but she continued 'You take that moment of weakness to put them in a hold or something, or better yet grab your weapon if it’s stolen. Salt in the eye is no smoke balm but it can make an easily accessible one,' this session they had to fight more people, because the league recognized they knew each other's fighting style well enough so that it really only came down to the element of surprise. New people meant more of a challenge because everyone’s tells are different. Because this lesson was about creativity and taking every opportunity to win a fight, only one set had weapons, and that set happened to not be Thea or Damian.

Thea walked up to the person she had to fight and tapped his shoulder signaling the start of the fight. Once she knew he saw her signal, she threw salt at his face, taking his moment of distraction to put him in a hold and twist his arm until he let go of his weapon. Taking it Thea pinned him to the ground, and put the weapon at his neck. He tried to break out but she just put the dagger closer to his neck. He tapped twice signaling his forfeit and she hopped up off of the boy. While helping him up, Thea saw Damian do the same thing, but with more strength and more finesse in the form he used to pin his opponent.

Almost every time they trained together. They improved more when they were together than when they were apart. Eventually they started talking about random things while they were training. But because they were still training, not a word was actually spoken, they kept talking with their faces, their intuitive knowledge of each other's thoughts and feelings still unknown to anyone outside the two of them. 'Damian, when do you think we’ll get to go out on our own missions?' Thea asked while they were training their acrobatics ' I am not aware of when we will be able to, that information is only going to be available to us when grandfather proclaims it so,' he answered while landing on the ground 'true, It’d still be fun to know though,' she responded while flipping in the air 'I do not believe they will be sending us on any missions soon, we are still very young, even though we are definitely more skilled than those four years our senior,' Thea has to keep herself from laughing, 'You’re rather blunt you know, I personally think it’s very funny,' she remarked while they lined up to start their obstacle course.

Their eyes met every once and while in the middle of the obstacle course. At one of those eye contact exchanges Damian said 'Nobody but you will get to see that bluntness, so laugh all you want. People will just think you're weird for laughing out of nowhere,' Thea was flustered for a moment before she responded jokingly in one of those exchanges of eye contact 'Is that a promise Damian?' one they reached the end of the course he said 'Yes, yes it is,'

Next

tag list!!?

@nightlychaotic @moonlightstar64

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “Sandstorm.”

Hope everyone is having a good Monday, Hope you like the story )

Sunny stood beneath the blazing hot son. The Iranboo market on Irus was hot and dusty with clouds of blue sand puffing up into the air with every step. The little domes of white rock that made up the houses here, were draped in colorful cloth which stretched from  roof to roof to cast the sandy market into a measure of shade.

Sunny was used to the heat, though volcanic heat and the heat of a star were much different, the volcanic heat coming in waves, while the heat from above seared downwards with ever-increasing intensity that made her entire body tingle with heat, and so she stayed in the shade near one of the tents, perusing a table full of decorative daggers, lorded over by a dark-skinned human, covered in colorful cloth from head to toe, to the point that only his upper face was exposed.

She wondered how the man could wear so many layers in heat like this, but didn’t ask.

Off to the side, Adam was busy taking the statement of one of the market herb sellers. 

They had come here on the wind of some disturbing rumors.

Apparently, someone had got it into their heads that ground up Drev carapace had some sort of medicinal properties, sort of like ivory -- or at least that is what Adam had compared it to. Either way, they weren’t sure if the rumors were true, but a slow trickle of calls had been coming into the UNSC and revolved around Drev and their missing friends or family members.

Sunny shivered at the idea.

What kind of person would have the audacity to hunt Drev.

It was her impression, for that reason, that this in some way involved humans. That was not because she thought humans were the only ones sick enough to do something like this, but primarily because humans were the only ones capable of challenging a Drev. Perhaps a team of humans headed by a Tesraki mastermind, or others, but it remained her opinion that humans, or spirits forbid, other Drev were involved.

She glanced back at Adam, pleased to see that he was taking this as serious as any other investigation that they had done. Things were slowly changing, but the war hadn’t left the Drev in a good light and there were still some who didn't take the issues of her people as seriously as they should.

Obviously Adam was an exception to that rule and followed the plight of the Drev very seriously going so far as to say ‘ive been adopted into two Drev clans; your business is my business, and I intend to do everything that I can to help.”

So far he hadn’t lied, and she was more than pleased.

She turned her head away from his questioning and back to the rest of the market. Iranboo was a center of trade on Irus, far out in the desert, but close to at least three major interstellar docking stations. At least two of those three docking stations regularly received travelers from Anin, her home planet, and was often the last place some of the Drev were seen before they vanished completely.

With Adam still talking, Sunny walked a little further into the crowd following her ears and eyes. If she were a drev come off Anin for the first time, what would she be looking for? Food for sure, but the weapons would surely catch their eye.

So she made her way along the sand fruit stalls examining tier wares cursily before moving on. It was not their items that she was interested in, but the aliens who sold them.

She took a turn around the other side of the market, losing sight of Adam behind a brightly colored green banner. She lifted her head, and, off in the distance, she saw alow haze beginning to form on the horizon. 

It was a familiar sight, from a memory long ago when she had passed through Irus.

The deep blue of atmospheric haze was growing even deeper, until it appeared that bright blue clouds were forming on the horizon. 

A sandstorm.

It was far away right then, but she knew from stories how fast they moved and how dangerous they could be. 

She walked through the market stalls and past one of the low marble domes, her feet seering in the scorching sand as she stared out at the gathering dust cloud. Behind her the sounds of the market merged and roiled into one great amalgamation of sound.

Her thoughts grew distant as she stared out upon the alien landscape.

And then something clamped around  the base of her throat. She gasped and choked but was assailed by an acrid smell hissing through her breathing holes and into her lungs.

Something gripped her tight about the arms and waist.

She choked and struggled, kicking at the legs of whoever held her, but even as she struggled, her body grew weak and her knees gave out. She felt her legs burning as she slumped to the scorching sand. 

Her head spun.

“Hurry, get her on the truck, we don’t have much time.”

“You get her feet, I’ll get her hands.”

“Hurry damn it.”

Her vision faded in and out, but she felt her body growing light, suspended through the air by unknown hads.

Her head lolled slightly. She watched the city recede upside down into the distance as she was unceremoniously chucked onto the back of the hover truck, whose engine roared and slowly began to slowly accelerate forward.

***

Adam clicked the top of the pen and slipped it into his jacket pocket, “Thank you for your help, sir. If you hear anything, call the number on the card I gave you, and a representative of the GA will take your statement, and dispatch a ship if needed.” The man nodded and raised the sand fruit he was eating.”

Adam turned on the spot, “You know I never thought th-” He paused when he found himself alone, and Sunny nowhere to be seen. He turned in a wide circle searching for her blue carapace in the surrounding crowd, but found nothing.”

That was strange, where could she have run off to

He walked a few steps forward, a tiny bit surprised when he found a good portion of the vendors to be packing up glancing nervously between the buildings and out towards the horizon. He Followed their gaze and paused nervously when he saw the large blue cloud rolling up over the horizon.

A sandstorm.

He really needed to get Sunny and get out of here. They might be able to beat it to the docking bay if they were quick enough.

But where the hell was she.

He took a few steps into the quickly vanishing market, and an arm suddenly caught his bicep, squeezing tight enough for a shock of pain to be sent up his arm. He jolted to a stop and turned to look at the one who had grabbed him.it was the man from the knife stand, with his colorful head coverings, and dark skin.

His eyes were wide and wild.

He placed a hand before his face, one finger over his lips to sush adam, and then     motioned his eyes towards the side of the market fervently. Adam nodded and the man let him go. The wind was beginning to kick up around them, and he pulled up his jacket collar against little particles of sand as they flew up into his face.

He broke into a jog as he headed towards the side of the buildings.

He broke from between two houses, his eyes scanning over the wide horizon. At first he didn’t see anything, but flipping up his eyepatch and taking a look through his augmented eye, he zoomed in on the landscape, and managed to make out a little white hovercade of vehicles driving towards the storm.

He zoomed in a little further, and froze.

Froze at the blue body who lay listless on the back of the rear truck.

His heart turned to stone, and rage welled up inside him the likes of which he had never experienced. In that moment, it felt as if he could have melted the sand below his feet to glass.

“Sunny!” He screamed, catching a mouthful of sand kicked up into his face.

A man rode past him on a hoverbike nose turned towards one of the distant docking stations, but as he passed, Adam grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him o a stop. The man yelped, “Hey, what.”

“UNSC, I’m taking your vehicle.” The man toppled and fell into the sand hand raised as Adam swung himself up onto the back and gunned the engine. The man’s yelling voice faded into a background of wind and spitting sand.

Adam pulled a pair of goggles down over his eyes, pulling a bandana up from his neck and over his face as little particles of blue sand stung his skin.

His one mechanical eye zoomed in and focused on the retreating hovercade. He switched gears and the engine roared as he pushed it to the max speed. The sand flew by below him in great waves and before him a wall of blue sand rose high into the air what seemed like thousands of feet in the sky. His heart pounded against his chest as the first wave of sand rolled over the hovercade, and Sunny was momentarily lost from his view. He screamed Sunny’s name, but his voice was lost in a massive gust of wind.

Darkness enveloped him as great waves of sand slammed against his body. His hands stung as did his hairline.

Up ahead the hovercade, which had been growing closer, was almost completely lost from view.

He screamed again in frustration and toggled his mechanical eye for ALL heat sensing wavelengths hoping that at least one of them would be able to penetrate the sand. Through the pulsing waves of darkness, little pinpoints of light managed to make it through to his eye.

He switched gears and gunned the engine, fighting against the wind and sand that whipped past him.

The wall of sand towered over him into the sky, impenetrable and powerful.

He snarled as his mechanical eye zeroed in on a source of heat flickering in and out in the ghosts of sand, and reached down to the sidearm at his belt.

And that is when the wall hit him.

It was so powerful it drove the wind from his body and threatened to throw him back off the hovercycle, but he lowered his head against great waves of whipping blue sand pelting his face and completely darkening the sky above. His mechanical eye was his only saving grace at that moment

***

The Hovercade pulled into the sand like they had done thousands of times. It was dangerous, but it was good cover, and no one would be willing to follow them. The half unconscious Drev lay hal in and half out of a tarp in the back of the vehicle which whipped back and forth with the powerful sand. A Tesraki sat at the front of the vehicle hunched against the sand blowing in through one busted out window,goggles low over his face as a scarf whipping out behind him.

Two humans stood in the back, crouched against the cab against the worst of the wind and sand.

One of them turned his head staring at the wall of blue behind them which broke and undulated like the depths of the sea. Great towering rifts opened up in the san, and light filtered down from above only to be enveloped again. It was in one of these beams of light, that he saw it.

A figure roaring through the whipping sand.

A lone rider on a hoverbike crouched low against the roarin sand.

He stood, and was nearly blown over hissing in pain against the sand. His partner turned to look at him and he pointed back to where the sand had obscured the figure. He tried to scream over the wind, but his voice was caught up in a gust. Another rift opened up, and his partner saw it.

The figure even closer now than before.

They pulled their weapons, hanging onto the bars on the side of the hovertruck to stead themselves. One leveled a weapon, but the figure was faster taking a single handed shot that tagged him high on the cheek and slammed into the metal of the cab.

He screamed and put a hand to his cheek firing another round.

His partner slammed  his fist against the caburging the Tesraki to go faster.

The man on the bike saw what they were , and slowly stood on the buddy pegs, bringing his feet up to stand on the seat, hands still resting on the bars.

This crazy bastard wasn’t actually going to-

He jumped.

Flinging himself into the air, impossibly high, with great billowing drapes of blue behind him, and lines of light nursing down from above. The boke turned sideways, was caught by a gust of wind and then plowed into the sand, erupting with a gout of fire that lit up the sand with a momentarily burst of orange light.

The figure slammed into the side of the cab hands latching on to the metal bars.

They leveled their weapons, but the figure lashed out, grabbing the first man by the front of his jacket and pulling him into the line of fire. He jerked once and then twice before falling still, two bullets in his back.

The figure threw the corpse aside and it bounced once before vanishing into the sand. 

The second man brought up his weapon to fire again, but the gun was knocked from his grip and out into the sand. An elbow to the face, and he was knocked to the round. A fist was drawn back plowing into the side of his head and knocking him out cold.

***

Sunny woke up with a roaring in her ears and sand spitting at her face. Her vision was cloudy and uncertain as she looked around, feeling something tugging at her.

She looked up, and through the sand and wind she saw a face. His skin was plastered with blue, and his usually blond hair looked almost green. It was Adam, kneeling next to her on the truck.

Sunny had no idea where he could have come from, but there hewas, standing over her. Her vision faded in and out, and she felt almost nauseous.

She could see the bandana he wore moving, indicating that he might have been trying to speak, but the wind was too loud. SO loud that it was almost impossible to hear anything.

That was probably why neither of them noticed the man slide from the front of the cab to lean out the rear window, didn’t notice the gun he held until it was too late.

There was a flash of bright light, and a sharp burst of sparks as the bullet took him high on his right thigh, bouncing off the metal but imparting enough force to cause Adam to slip back. 

Sunny saw, as if in slow motion as his foot was whipped out from under him, and he lost his balance. He fell forward slamming hard against the bed, hands scrambling against the smooth metal. She reached a hand for him,but her fingers were lethargic and stiff.

His right hand caught hard against the back metal, his body whipping with the sand behind the vehicle.

And then a boot came down on his hand grinding into his fingers.

Sunny watched in quiet horror as Adam’s fingers wen limp and then detached.

H was suspended for a second with his hand reaching out towards her, before he was sucked backward into the sand and vanished.

Sunny tilted her head looking up at the human standing over her, just before the boot came down and she was gone.

***

The white sun beat hot down on the blue dessert. The sky above was a uniform green grey and the air was completely still devoid of wind.

The ground was awash with large dunes of blue sand blown over from the sandstorm the night before, an unblemished mass of blue untouched by any living creature.

Until a hand burst from the blue sending grains of blue cascading down its arm. A shoulder broke through, followed by a head, hair completely saturated with the grainy azure sand.

It gasped and coughed, clawing it’s way to the surface, hands against the sand, palms burning in the scorching heat.

Adam pulled himself for the hole in the sand kneeling against the blazing heat.

He was breathing hard and his entire body ached and burned. But worse than that, worse than that was the thought of Sunny.

He had HAD her, he had been SO CLOSE.

He bent forward pounding his fists against the sand, “He could see her face, obscured by a swirling of sand as the Hovercade drove away.

They were going to pay for this.

They were going to die.

He leaned his head back and screamed, a raw animal sound made worse by the grainy san clogging his throat. He screamed and screamed and screamed until his throat choked with pain and blood came welling into his mouth.

He spit it onto the sand teeth clenched.

They had taken the wrong Drev.

And now they were going to PAY

[buglife]

Bend and Not Break - Ch 3: A Brand

Read here on AO3 :3

(please there is not nice stuff ahead with implied torture so be careful!)

Well, wasn’t this a predicament.

Monomon looked over her notes with a careful eye. It took three prisoners to get her even close to figuring out what was currently harming her son. It had taken hours and she was starting to get a little frustrated by her lack of progress.

So far, she figured out that what she had was a complex neurotoxin with trace elements of other toxic extracts. She identified hemlock and arsenic at the least, which tickled her since Quirrel used to eat those with no trouble. However, the delivery method was directly into the blood stream so there was no time for the digestive system to break down the toxins and neutralize them. So that just proves that they wanted her son dead and wanted him dead fast.

With that reasoning, she had no problems planning what she was going to do to the next prisoner on her list. There was going to be a fifth but sadly Tiso said she couldn’t have that one. Oh well, it made sense to keep at least one alive. She didn’t ask too many questions, she was too focused on her work to ask why. Ghost had sent a messenger to her every hour to update her on Quirrel’s condition and he had started to take a turn for the worse. The only thing she could do was send up advice on how to keep him comfortable and try to head off any permanent damage.

The last messenger had just departed from her makeshift lab and she slowly turned her head to look at the dragonfly strapped to the chair. He was shivering, his eyes wide as he watched her every movement. He had heard the screams and he most likely knew what was going to happen to him. It made her feel a little better that he was experiencing even an ounce of terror her son must be feeling. But it wasn’t enough, not for her.

Tiso had told her he had a lead on a possible antidote, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Not when it’s her son on the line. She grimly put down her notes and grabbed a fresh syringe. It was time to get back to work.

She refused to fail her child, not now, not ever.

-----

Tiso and Xena had to nearly fight their way through the crowd gathered outside the palace. News on what had happened had reached most of the Kingdom by now, so a vigil had been set up that seemed to get bigger every-time he looked out the windows. Candles and flowers were all over the place as various bugs prayed or tried to comfort each other as they collectively hoped for the King's safety. He was glad that the people were so worried over the nerd, especially when he saw the effects it was having on the prisoner walking with them.

Her name turned out to be Lara, and she had wisely decided to talk. She kept her head down, antenna pinned back in discomfort as they picked their way around the crowd. Her hands and wings were bound under the cloak, hiding the fact she was a prisoner from view. Hopefully, she was beginning to see how wrong she was, but her redemption wasn’t Tiso’s problem right now.

“You should have let me take Pickles with us.” Xena complained. All three of them were wearing heavy cloaks over their armor and bindings in an effort to blend in. “We could have gotten through the crowd faster.”

“That would be the complete opposite of being stealthy, I think.” Tiso deadpanned, keeping a hand around the arm of the ladybug beside him. “We don’t want them to see us coming, and your beast is hard to miss.”

Xena huffed in response. They all finally were able to clear the crowd, leaving the vigil behind as the headed to the Capital. Lara was silent most of the way, seemingly stewing in guilt. When they finally arrived at a rather opulent mansion, she stopped the both of them.

“Here. Like I said. There’s private guards inside and more people like...like me.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “They are probably all there...celebrating.”

“Well it won’t be a fun time for them all for long.” Tiso looked around the street and Lara tried to follow his gaze.

“But...it’s just you two, right? Even being Knights…”

Xena shook her head and made a gesture with her hand as she looked into the darkness in the alleys. Then, several pairs of eyes glittered in the soft light, and they were everywhere. Lara could see dark shapes stealthily climb their way to just above each window and door. They must have called in all the guard for this raid, as Lara lost count as they took their positions. A few were hanging back, most likely there in case someone tried to escape.

“Welp, time to crash a party,” Tiso said, bringing his shield out from under his cloak. He flashed light off the shield three times, and then suddenly, everything went into motion. Guards smashed their way through windows and doors and the screaming started. Each scream was getting cut off one by one as both knights leisurely strolled right up to the front door.

A guard helpfully opened it up from the other side and both knights and prisoner quickly ran inside. Guards were throwing bugs to the floor, quickly shackling them up so they couldn’t escape. The ones that tried to fight back were quickly shown that that was a mistake to make.

“This is outrageous! I can’t believe you would break into my home with no ri-” A rather obnoxious and nasally voice was trying to argue, and was only succeeding at pissing off the guard trying to arrest them. Apparently, they got so frustrating that the guard simply tossed them through one of the large ornate windows inside, spraying glass everywhere. The bug being thrown was clearly someone of wealth and power, judging by the sheer amount of gold on their person. The round bug couldn’t stop themselves from rolling and they ended up right in front of Tiso, who helpfully stopped them with a boot.

“Well well well…” Tiso grinned as he turned over the bug to see their face. “If it isn’t the little grub that got himself banned from court and stripped of nobility for being a gigantic prick.”

Said bug was not a grub, but they started to sputter in anger, mandibles flinging spit as they tried to put words to their rage. If anything they proved they were just so. They were a Jewel beetle and figured himself to be hot shit among the rest of the upper class, and was known for his tantrums. No wonder why he got put in a perpetual time out. Tiso for the life of him, couldn’t remember his name, but sure remembered his annoying, grating voice.

“Unhand me this instant you peasant!” His limbs wiggled, but he was trapped on his back and unable to get up. “I did nothing wrong to warrant this harassment!”

“I would figure treason is a pretty good justification.” He rolled the angry bug to another guard, who began to shackle them up. “Take him to the dungeon and put him in the worst cell we have.”

“Right away sir.” Two guards managed to get the beetle on his feet and made their way to a caged cart waiting outside, already filling up with prisoners. As soon as they were gone, Tiso turned back to Lara, who was still boggling at what was going on around her.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face, shocking her back into reality. “Where do we get the antidote?”

She glanced around the room, before pointing. “Here,” she said, indicating a locked door to the side. “That’s where the make the poison, at least, I think they do. I wasn’t allowed to go down there, and I don’t have a key.”

“We don’t need a key.” Tiso hefted his shield over his shoulder.

“Be careful,” Lara said, looking to the door. “It’s stairs behind there, I think it goes to the basement.”

“Alright then.” Xena pointed to a pair of guards that seemed to be free for the moment. “Stay with them, and do not move. Cooperate with them and answer any questions they may have.” Her tone left no room for argument, and Lara nodded and did as she was told.

Tiso readied his shield, and then threw himself at the door. The door rattled on it’s hinges, the lock vibrating from the hit as Tiso readied himself again. It four solid bashes for the door to finally crack enough where the lock simply fell apart. Everyone paused, listening, but there was only silence.

He gestured to Xena and a few other guards to follow as they silently and carefully trudged down the stairs. Soon they could hear snippets of voices and the further down the went, the clearer the voices became.

“Please….please don’t! I don’t want this! Stop!” There was a voice, sounding feminine and high. They were sobbing, words forced out between the rare times where they could catch their breath. They sounded absolutely miserable.

“This is for the good of the people,” answered another voice. It was deeper and held a cold edge to it. “It wouldn’t be so hard for you if you just cooperated.”

“I won’t! I won’t!” There was a sharp, zapping noise and the sobbing voice screamed. A flash of light blinked from the crack under the door and the sobbing melted into soft weeping.

Tiso took position around the door, Xena to the other side. He held up his hand, and folded down a claw counting down from three. When he reached zero, they both turned and kicked down the door. It practically flew off its hinges and collided hard with someone on the other side. Judging by the shout, it was the deeper voice they hit. Both knights and their guards swarmed into the room.

What awaited them was a terrible sight.

A scorpion was chained to a chair, crying in pain, her tail and stinger stretched out behind her and strapped to a bench. One of her eyes was swollen shut and there were cracks in her chitin, deep blue bruising blooming under the softer skin-like parts of her belly and sides.

Xena gasped, glancing at her pincers, thin and long instead of the more common large variety. “Holy shit, that’s a deathstalker!”

“A what?” Tiso was standing on the door, pinning down whoever was underneath. Whoever it was, seemed to have been knocked for a loop. It was easy for him to grab the limbs poking out from under the door and putting cuffs on them.

“A deathstalker.” Xena sounded awed. “They have some of the deadliest venom among bug-kind. Incredibly rare and secretive as a people.”

The scorpion continued her crying. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t stop them!”

“Stop wh-?” Tiso’s eyes landed on a few jars filled with yellow fluid sitting on what appeared to be a work table. There were other bottles and jars that were labeled, but his eyes were drawn to the jars of fluid. Then he looked down at the bug, a beetle it seemed, squished under the door. The jar they were holding had rolled away, also containing a small amount of the same fluid. He glanced to the stinger, strapped down and leaking slightly from the tip, some incredibly angry charged lumaflies in a jar beside it.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“That’s...that’s fucking sick. I can’t…” The ant could barely think of a response to all of this. He heard a few guardsmen behind him, also boggling at the situation. He took a deep breath, and addressed them. “You know what to do, gather evidence and look everywhere. Someone send a message to Monomon and fast.”

The rest of the guard went about their duties, carefully checking cabinets and the walls, looking for anymore surprises. One waited around long enough for Xena to tell them exactly what the message should say, before they raced upstairs to deliver it. With that taken care of, Xena went about freeing the scorpion, who was still babbling, moving as carefully as she could to prevent anymore pain.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Shh, I know. You’ll be alright. I know this wasn’t your fault.” Xena was rarely the type to be gentle, but this was a situation that definitely required it. “We’ll get to you to a doctor and you’ll be okay. You’re safe now, they won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

“But...but they said they were going to-” The scorpion wobbled and collapsed back into the chair, her limbs spasming and twitching. It seemed like she wasn’t going to be able to walk under her own power.

“You two! Get a stretcher!” Xena barked at some of the guards. As they went to fetch one, Xena knelt down and took her now freed pincer in her hand. “Everyone is okay, we’ll talk about that later. What’s your name?”

“Poppy.” She seemed to be calming down, but instead of outright sobbing she started to shiver. Xena took off her cloak and set it around Poppy’s shoulders. She knew what shock looked like and she didn’t want this poor arachnid to suffer anymore than she had too. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for a stretcher to appear and Xena helped her on.

Once Poppy was secure, she sent them back to the palace to be seen by Monomon. Until they can verify a doctor, the scientist will have to make due. She at least had extensive experience in patching up the wounded and could at least make the scorpion comfortable. She made sure to include in the message that she was a victim and not one of the collaborators. Making a note to check on Poppy later, and turned to look at Tiso.

She sighed.

Tiso had the beetle pinned to the floor, and was threatening them with a bottle of collected venom. “Where’s the antidote, asshole!”

“I...I-” They sputtered and tried to wiggle free.

“Wrong answer!” He started to unscrew the jar. “Lets give ya a taste of your own medicine!”

Xena sighed. “Tiso…”

“Yeah?” He inclined his head at her, ignoring the beetle freaking the hell out under his boot.

“Give the bastard time to answer.”

“Fine,” he pouted. He screwed the lid back on. “Tell me where the antidote is. And before you stagshit me, I know there’s one. Because nobody ever made any poison without one in case they fuck up and stab themselves with it. So. Where. Is. It.” He punctuated each word by poking the beetle in the face, hard.

The beetle coughed and moved an arm to point at the work table. “B—blue bottle,” he wheezed.

Xena walked over to pick up the bottle, scrutinizing it. “There’s no way we are just gonna use it without testing it first.”

“That’s what Monomon is for.” Tiso grabbed up the beetle and clicked their arms behind their back. “Let’s get this all packed together quickly and bring it over.”

“I told the messenger that that’s what we were going to do.” Xena grabbed a spare box sitting around, and began carefully packing up all the bottles and notes that were on the work table.

“I’m never gonna get to smooch my girlfriends at this rate.” Tiso sighed. “We’ll be in the dungeons forever processing all of this.”

“Cry me a river, I’m not gonna be able to smooch mine either.” Xena handed the now full box to a guard and sent them on their way. “Let’s just focus on our work, we got lives on the line after all.”

“Yeah I know, but I’m still allowed to whine about it.” The beetle found himself wincing as Tiso dragged him up the stairs, letting them hit every stone step on the way. “I’ll see you back there soon, I’m gonna take in the prisoners.”

Said beetle was now sorely starting to regret his current life decisions.

-----

Quirrel was quickly getting frustrated. He found himself in the archive library, nooks and crannies stretching as far as he could see. The various scrolls, books, and stone tablets were scatter haphazardly and he had to put things right. But he couldn’t read the words in order to sort them, or he’d pick up a tablet for it to change into a book. There was so much to do, and he couldn’t even get something as simple as reading correct! Mother would be home soon and she always expected her library to be put back in order. He was going to get a scolding for this, for sure.

Truly, this was a nightmare.

“You cannot read because this is a dream.” Came a voice from behind him, suddenly making the air less foggy and thick. Quirrel whirred around, startled into dropping the stack of books he was carrying. He didn’t notice them falling apart into motes of essence as he lost his focus, looking to the figure sitting in one of the armchairs instead. “Surely, the proclaimed ‘Scholar King’ would know such a thing.”

They were a tall, elegant bug dressed in reds and blacks. Quirrel wasn’t quite sure on the species, they looked like a blend between a moth and a firefly. They were lounging, watching Quirrel with bright red eyes. Then, with all the manners of a showman, they straightened up to smile at him, and gestured with a bow.

“We’ve met before, though I understand if you are having trouble, due to your circumstances.” Their voice was deep and smoky, with an undertone of mystery and confidence. It was very familiar.

“Come and sit,” they gestured to a chair that suddenly appeared next to theirs. “We have much to discuss, and not so much time to do so.” A small table with a teapot appeared before them, still steaming hot and smelling wonderful. Oddly enough, there was a strange glowing red jar next to the honey and tiny sandwiches. He didn’t quite know what to do, but he did know that this bug was not going to harm him, somehow. So he walked over to sit, watching as the archives twisted and melted, changing into a cozy room with a lit fireplace. Quirrel sat, glancing to the jar. It had a very ominous feeling that made his chitin itch and a primal dread well up in his belly.

“Don’t mind that, it’s for me.” The bug continued, they poured out some tea and handed Quirrel a cup. They opened the jar and plucked out a few red marbles and dropped it into theirs. They stirred it with a smile and took a sip.

“What was that?” Quirrel was now intrigued, watching the other bug take another sip before holding the cup elegantly in their claws.

“Nightmares, my friend. Your dear spouse prunes them from their kingdom and saves them for my child and I.”

“Wait...you eat nightmares?” Quirrel glanced to his own cup, antenna twitching in thought. Spouse? He had to think hard for a moment, and took a sip of tea. It tasted like happiness, and it helped to jog his memory as he felt the pain in his head lessen somewhat. Spouse...spouse...a tall bug, no, vessel appeared in his minds eye. They were once so little and they were now big and elegant. They were a...a…Ghost.

He suddenly could remember Ghost. The first time they met in the Temple of the Black Egg so long ago and how the years flew by and suddenly they were married. They were rulers. He took a moment to remember exactly what they did besides ruling, and it came to him.

Ghost did go into the dream realm and told him about clipping away the nightmares from their subjects. Some, they left, if the dreamer needed or deserved them. So this was….

“Grimm?” Quirrel hesitantly voiced, “The Nightmare King?”

“Correct.” Grimm smiled as he took another sip of tea. “There’s the intelligent bug that causes a certain god to swoon.”

“So that means….”

“You are in a nightmare, yes.”

“It doesn't feel so bad?” Quirrel pondered, his tea somehow staying warm. “How is this a nightmare?”

“Because you are very sick, my friend. Do you remember what happened?” Grimm set down their cup, folding their claws together to regard Quirrel with intense focus.

Quirrel closed his eyes and thought, digging deep down into his own mind. “I was...with Ghost. In public. There were flashes then...I don’t remember?”

“Flashes hrm? Do me a favor, and take a look at yourself.” Grimm pointed with a claw, and Quirrel followed his gaze.

There, on his abdomen, was a nice gash. Certainly not deep enough to kill him, that’s for sure. But there was something…strange about it. Looking past the blue of his own blood was...another color? It was...yellow? It mixed together, turning his blood green as it trickled down his side and on to the chair. It seemed to vanish as soon as it touched the fabric. He touched his wound and felt only a numbness in response. Now that he saw it, he remembered.

“Someone tried to kill us.”

“Indeed, they did. And you were poisoned.” Grimm tilted their head, seemingly pleased that Quirrel had remembered so quickly. “Thankfully, your assassins didn’t take your biology into account.”

“Pillbugs are resistant to poisons.” it dawned on Quirrel. He was poisoned, but he wasn’t dead. He was...in between?

“Yes. You, however, are quite sick, and your friends and family are worried for you. Especially, your spouse, and my friend.” Grimm snapped his fingers, and the wound vanished like it was never there.

Quirrel took a moment to think, mulling over the obvious question.

“Am I going to die?”

Grimm shook his head with a soft smile. “Not likely. Everyone is working hard to bring you back to the waking world. Until then, I am here.”

Quirrel leaned back. “So...are you here to just eat my nightmares? Why are you here? Not that I don’t mind the company, I am just curious. Surely you must have something more important to do.”

“I owe Ghost greatly. Because of them, my daughter thrives. They cared for them even before the beginning of new Hallownest. They have provided a way to be sure that they will always have the scarlet flames they need to grow, and a way for us to feed without resorting to parasitism.” Grimm sounded fond. “So, I decided to keep you company until you awaken once more. It’s the very least I can do.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” Quirrel smiled. “Tell me, have you visited any interesting places outside of Hallownest?”

“I have, shall I tell you about them?”

“Please.” Quirrel sipped his tea and decided that perhaps, this wasn’t the worst way to pass the time. He needed to wake up, but that wasn’t in his control, he just hoped everyone would be alright until then.

-----

Ghost has yet to move from their husband’s side. Time seemed to come to a crawl, and they found themselves hanging on to every labored breath, every intake of air that Quirrel managed to take. There was always that split second of fear when they thought he had stopped breathing, only for him to thankfully, take another breath. It was exhausting and everything inside them ached for their beloved, helpless to do anything. Monomon of course, sent up advice. They had used cold water in an effort to bring down their fever. Made sure to keep their gills moist as a way to keep them hydrated. They dared not try to make him drink anything, not with their breathing so bad. They were trying so hard.

They found it ironic. All the power in the world but they couldn’t heal the ones they love the most. They could destroy all they want, but they couldn’t fix things this complicated.

They didn’t want to think about what would happen if things were to go terribly wrong.

They had nightmares before of losing Quirrel, back when they still slept like a normal bug. It had started during their journey through Hallownest before they defeated the radiance. Quirrel was one of the few positive experiences during that horrible time. Every time they saw him at some new place or another, they felt safe, and happy. It was like being offered a warm cup of cocoa when you were freezing to death, desperate to grasp onto any scrap of goodness you could find. Quirrel definitely fit the bill, and he and the others reminded them of what they were fighting to save.

Even when they finally got up on the growth they missed and took the throne, they still feared losing their best friend. Said best friend eventually turned into an awkward romantic interest and it was downhill right into the feelings from there.

They looked down at the bundled up pillbug and they could sense that he was dreaming. It was certainly better than being in agony, and he hoped that his dreams were of good things.

“Quirrel,” They crooned softly and rested their chin on his arm, afraid to place it on the usual spot on his chest in case it hindered his breathing. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but please don’t go. I love you.”

The only reply they got was Quirrel’s hand twitching as one of his nerves misfired.

The door opened softly and Ghost snapped their head up, alert for any type of danger. They had failed to protect Quirrel then...and they weren’t going to slip up again.

Thankfully, it was one of the few people they trusted with their life.

“My child,” Mato quietly shut the door behind him. “I came as quickly as I could.”

Ghost shook, feeling tears once again prickle in the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill over and stain everything again. “Father…”

The large bug crossed the room with scarcely a noise and pulled Ghost into a hug. They nuzzled into the warm fluff around his cloak and let their tears fall. “Father...I’m scared.”

“I know you are. It’s part of loving someone.” He rubbed small circles into their back, a way he learned that they liked to be comforted. “I know this is a very frightening situation for you, so I’m here to help.”

“I’ve been watching, and I h-”

“All day?” Mato let go to look into their eyes.

“Yes, and -”

“Did you eat? Sleep? Drink water?”

Ghost had to take a moment to think of an answer.

“Then you need to do both and you need to do it now. No butts, no excuses.” Mato turned them around and started to march them to the kitchenette in their apartment.

“I am a god, I don’t need to do those things.” Ghost knew better than to fight it, letting themselves be led to the icebox. Mato raided the inside, pulling out a bowl of leftover stew and pouring a glass of water.

“You may be a god, but I am still your father and I know that you need these things for your own sanity.” Mato passed over the stew, which quickly vanished into the void of their mouth. “You need to take a break, and take care of yourself or you will burn out and we’ll have two injured bugs on our hands.”

Ghost nodded mutely, accepting the glass of water and draining it as well. They didn’t know if they were imagining things or not, but it did make them feel a little better. Mato watched, nodding in approval.

“Good, now you rest, and I will keep watch over the both of you.” He had grabbed them again by the shoulders, and was leading them back to the nest.

“But you just got here, you must be tired too.”

“I can manage a few hours enough to let you rest up a bit. What kind of father would I be if I couldn’t give my child time to recover from a terrible ordeal?” Ghost was picked up and placed inside the nest next to Quirrel. They reflexively moved to hold them as Mato pulled the covers up around them. They started to purr, hoping that Quirrel could feel their love for him, even in the world of dreams.

Mato started humming, moving around to tidy up and starting a fire in the fireplace. It was the music of care and support that eventually lulled them into a state of peace. The stress of everything had taken a toll on them, and it didn’t take long for them to fall asleep, curled up next to their husband.

[alphasmoonlit-selfships]

Got curious uwu, from two different ask meme:

⚠️ and 🍄

“Why hello @shinitai-i !” Atsushi greeted with a wide smile, his belt tail swishing, “Thank you for the asks! This time an answer from both Dany and I! We appreciate your patience and hope you enjoy our answers!” — 🐯🌙

“Curiosity is grand! Let’s jump right in shall we?” — 🐺✨

⚠️ have you and S/I ever been caught in an embarrassing/"It's not what it looks like" situation? Please tell us what happened.

Oh no… ah o(*////▽////*)q...

Well, I’d be lying if I said no,,, eh he…but ah surprisingly the first thing that came to mind might not be what others could be thinking.

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to just explain what happened. The main point being Dany and I were caught in a semi-naked state��� Nothing like what you may be assuming, I swear! It was a deep, and just intimate, private moment before reality came slamming back >\\\\\\\>

I know most of you may be thinking it was a suggestive and funny moment, but it was rather serious prior to us being spooked soon after. I’ll try and keep some of the details vague and light as I can! Minor warning to past abuse and other indications, again, I'll leave as much of it vague as I can, but feel free to skip over to the last question, no worries!

We had just came back from a very serious mission that left both of us in a very heavily injured state. While my ability does help in self-healing a lot, sometimes the over exertion of it can slow it down. Dany has always struggled with her healing ability… especially due to her Shadow ability draining her more than heal.

Even so, we would have gone with Yosano-Sensei, but she was out on her own errands when we came back. We were told to just wait for her and get some rest in the patient room until she returned.

Ah, needless to say, we were concerned over each other’s injuries, and had some knowledge from Yosano-Sensei’s advice on basic aid. So we figured we could try and clean up some deeper cuts and try to wrap them up. Hopefully enough to keep away from Yosano-sensei’s usual treatments 😅

Just to note, Dany and I were definitely a few months into our relationship; we had become a generally sweet and foolishly in love and comfortable couple together and hadn’t done anything too intimate (…despite occasional nudges from our abilities ‘>>). So to say we were hesitant to remove at least our button-ups was an understatement…

We were both wary and embarrassed, we had never been semi-naked around each other before; but also just individually concerned on what the other thought. Especially when it came to old lingering scars of our pasts. Danielle definitely more than I…

Eventually, we both kind of just slowly let ourselves take that leap and removed our layers, enough to show the serious wounds that needed to be healed. Mine of course weren’t so bad and were starting to get better with help from my tiger ability. So that left mostly Dany to be treated and bandaged up.

Hers we’re definitely more serious and she needed to remove the rest of her blouse to really see her wounds. She was more tense and in a trembling panic at the time… I felt bad for being the cause of her nervousness. Though she has since reminded me that it wasn’t really me, but how she viewed herself and the scars that remained.

Eventually, with enough comforting words and settled with her own choice, she removed her layers.

…I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, definitely not the amount of scar marks that actually ran along her back and shoulders. Some long and small, some more darker than the others that are faded and silvery from age.

The moment of surprise and questions that wanted to fall from my tongue had came to a halt when I realized Dany was clearly struggling to hide her rising stress. She’s always been self conscious about herself and I never really pressed her on things she wasn’t comfortable talking about. At least not anytime soon at the time…

Of course I didn’t press, I knew a surface level of what she had dealt with before she was found by the Guild. But I couldn’t help but feel…angry at whoever had done this to her. My tiger was definitely far aggravated under my skin I’m sure she could sense it… but I kept my cool enough to help clean current wounds that she was struggling to heal with.

The silence felt like a long time, before Dany broke it herself. It seemed like I didn’t have to wait long for an explanation, as she bluntly stated how she received such marks.

I’ll leave a lot of it to the imagination…but the deep reflection about this bit of her past was enough to bring me to tears. It.. pained me to see Dany so melancholy and almost apathetic about the situation she had been under. Similar to how I’ve often seen Dazai-san’s own expression to things he’s reflected on from his past. Hell, even me to a fault during really bad days.

It was like she was a trance-like state, she honestly barely registered much of what I tried to say out of comfort and almost frustration towards her tormentors that had convinced her of something that was out of her control. It wasn’t until I calmed down a little when focusing on some scars on her upper back and shoulders that I decided on a different form of comfort.

I had placed a lingering kiss on her shoulder, directly onto one of the longer scars there; it definitely snapped her out of her daze then, practically breathing sharply from surprise. I pressed a few more before uttering some words of comfort that definitely brought Dany to tears. Likely from the very intimate kiss upon old wounds and from pent up emotions she’s hidden away for a long time without telling anyone.

I brought her into my arms then to hold her close in warm comfort, not really paying mind to our semi-clothed state. I merely wanted to offer her love and warm validation that she had been needing to hear, especially from me. I understand what that feels like and she’s always been there for me prior to our relationship and so many times after. I reminded her of how much I loved her and wanted to always love her despite such past hurts. Much like she has with me 💖

I gave her plenty of kisses, some lingering ones and others to draw her to laugh and out of her sadness. Thankfully, it worked after a few tickling ones… giving her a lasting one on her lips...before...

Well, the moment was ruined to say the least ། – _ – ། with Yosano-sensei, Dazai-san and Kunikida-kun walking in on…Well, us in our semi-naked state… and clearly noting we had just pulled away from a kiss...

Of course, we weren’t expecting them, so we both jumped out of our skins as soon as the door opened. My first instinct was to cover up Dany with the thin sheets out of respect for her and also knowing how intimate showing her scars was. Poor Dany practically hid midway under her shadow ability, but couldn’t entirely cause of her exhausted state..

…anyway the amount of scolding we got from Kunikida-kun was a mile long and I’m sure he would have strangled me for being indecent with Dany at the Agency, despite our relationship status. Of course, I say would have had Yosano-sensei not pulled on his ear for being such a parent… Dazai-san wouldn’t leave either of us alone for a week, especially without making a few innuendos when alone with me… 😓

Thankfully, Yosano-sensei was the only one not so overwhelming, but it’s not like we avoided her giving us a reminder of the Talk and giving us..well means of protection because of the situation…;>//////> I’m sure she has some level of understanding, considering she did give Danielle a check up prior to her joining the Agency, but wanted to just tease us for the fun of it..

Ah, but yeah, a bit heavy if a topic for something that was probably meant to be funny or even suggestive (U////▽////U)''. But regardless, if that moment is ever brought up, Dany and I do laugh with a bit of a look of soft comfort between each other. No one else needs to know the moment and understanding we felt in that point of our relationship. So everyone can continue to think otherwise if they want.

What matters is the moment before with my Darling and myself more than anything. 💞 🌸

🍄: Do you and your FO follow any familial or cultural traditions together?

Dany: Oh, traditions you say? 🤔 We do follow a few from our respective cultures. I try my hardest to keep up with memories of my mum’s traditions from our Hispanic/Latino heritage. Such as the food, recipes that I have long forgotten, but have gradually began to recall. I definitely researched how to make certain dishes I remember her making with the taste or flavor or ingredients it had.

Sometimes we try and mix up the foods in our cultures to have a variety of choices and cuisine! I’ve definitely made tamalés, with help from a chief that knew how to make the food, for the winter season. Sharing it with the Agency, to which I am really grateful that everyone really enjoyed it! ;;;w;;; thank god, I was very anxious they wouldn't or it came out bad ;;;v;;;

My mother definitely celebrated Día de los Muertos, I remember we had a small ofrenda in an extra room in my old cottage home. It was tiny compared to ones I’ve seen, considering my parents didn’t have much living family at the time and it was mostly just us…but anyway, present time. Atsushi definitely was curious about the holiday and give enough encouragement to me to try and replicate something similar to what my parents use to have. Some in Japan have tiny shines dedicated to family members and vary in size depending on the family.

Atsushi surprised me with a small casing box to dedicate to my passing parents…I had no lasting photos of them since I was a child. But he managed to find some individual photos of them from a report database, along with a family photo likely from whatever remained at my old home and investigators at the time found. All with Ranpo-kun’s intellect and help (the amount of praise and gratitude I gave him for it still is true uwu, and I give him plenty sweets in thanks).

Needless to say, I was very emotional and a crying mess when he did this for me. We both give our graces and often reflect a bit by the little ofrenda/shrine casing. I tell him a lot about how my parents would have loved to meet him and undoubtedly welcome him without any hesitation. Especially my dad, who was a shapeshifting animal gifted and had a favorite animal in the form of a falcon and a tiger too. Atsushi warms up a lot hearing that.

We’ve also celebrated the Lunar New Year too! That one was definitely new to me and had no idea on the festivities it entailed. We attended some of the festivals in Yokohama during the time with the Agency, the warm atmosphere and bustling energy has been beautiful and look forward to it. More so than the normal new year, keke.

Also the sakura blossom viewings are beautiful to see, very sweet and romantic if I may say… 😊🌸 we’ve taken a small boat ride though a canal that is littered with the blooms or taken a stroll and sat together under the beautiful view 💖 (❤ ω ❤). Definitely my favorite time, and I have collected blossoms to take home for the ofredna/shrine for my parents. I even made a lamination of one for safe keeping. 🌸 Definitely one of my favorite times of the year, the next being crisp autumn 🍂 !

The art provided is a commission by @/moon-fish-ghost and captures the awe and ethereal atmosphere during the sakura blossom viewing! It is truly a beautiful and romantic experience to have with my Darling 🌸🥰 she looks so beautiful in her wear 🌸💖 and love seeing her hair in a braid 💞🥰

Thank you again for the asks! We truly appreciated them and hope you enjoy these long winded asks! We try to make them as concise as we can, but sometimes we just dive into too much detail. We hope you understand. May you have a beautiful rest of your day! —Atsushi 🐯🌙

[thegrimmgrimm]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Story Summary: "What are you doing here, Jaskier?" Geralt watches as he brushes past, not quite close enough that Geralt has to lean away to avoid contact, and hovers opposite the fire.

Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest and gives Geralt a wicked grin. "Well, would you believe it, Geralt? I'm here to kill a monster."

Geralt gives a half-hearted glare to the sardonic response and tries to ignore the itch in his fingers to reach for a blade, his sword currently resting mere inches from him.

"No, what are you doing here?" In this wood, in this clearing. 

Jaskier's smirk turns sharp, lips curling away from sharp teeth, and golden eyes glinting in the low light. "I should have thought that was obvious."

Tags and Warnings: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, this bad boy can fit so many tropes, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Major Character Injury, references to past torture, enemies to lovers speedrun, more like rivals to lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, gratuitous homoerotic fight scene, Hurt/Comfort

Author’s notes: a lil something something inspired by another post on tumblr and got away from me a little (who'd have guessed?) thanks to eransandstorm for the beta and the fantastic title 👌🙏🙌 Enjoy 😘

It's near impossible to sneak up on a Witcher. Those that try are generally extremely dangerous, or extremely foolish. Whoever is trying to sneak up on Geralt at the present moment, so far as the Witcher can tell, is only one of these two things. Though, Geralt has yet to fully decipher which of the two.

Not being Geralt's first run in with this particular interloper, it doesn't take long for him to recognise their movements. He debates for a moment letting the intruder catch him "unawares" but decides that it would be inevitably more satisfying to watch them skulk into the clearing, dejected and contrite.

"This didn't work the last time you attempted it, Tojad, why would you think to try it a second time?" Geralt calls out into the woods. He hears a muffled curse in return and a fleeting smirk passes across his face as he leans in to toss more wood on his small fire.

"Oh, omniscient White Wolf, I'll have to keep that in mind for next time." Though the newcomer's tone is jovial and teasing, Geralt can hear the true frustration underneath. Geralt looks over his shoulder at the man slinking his way into the firelight.

The Cat School Witcher looks much the same as from their last encounter. His dark, chin-length hair still falls in front of wide amber eyes, catching and tangling in the closely cropped beard in a way that just has to be irritating. Twin swords sit at his back, curving over each shoulder, deadly as ever. A dagger at one hip, and a small satchel at the other.

Much like Geralt, every inch of skin from the neck down is covered by thick fabric or hard brown leather. It looks like the armour has actually seen some upgrades recently. New, heavier buckles and straps have replaced the old, worn thin from use and abuse. Geralt supposes it must have been a successful season for him.

"What are you doing here, Jaskier?" Geralt watches as he brushes past, not quite close enough that Geralt has to lean away to avoid contact, and hovers opposite the fire.

Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest and gives Geralt a wicked grin. "Well, would you believe it, Geralt? I'm here to kill a monster."

Geralt gives a half-hearted glare to the sardonic response and tries to ignore the itch in his fingers to reach for a blade, his sword currently resting mere inches from him.

"No, what are you doing here?" In this wood, in this clearing.  

Jaskier's smirk turns sharp, lips curling away from sharp teeth, and golden eyes glinting in the low light. "I should have thought that was obvious."

The challenge in his tone gives Geralt a fraction of a second to prepare. In an instant Jaskier has his dagger in hand and launches himself across the space at Geralt. Knowing it would be futile to try and wield his sword in such close quarters, Geralt instead takes a biting grip on Jaskier's wrist.

The pain of the hold seems to only make Jaskier's grin grow wider, more feral. Knowing he doesn't have the upper hand in strength, the Cat twists, kicks, and scratches at Geralt, landing a hard elbow to his cheekbone that will surely leave an impressive shiner.

Geralt keeps his hold on Jaskier's wrist as he struggles, and attempts to wrench it such that he drops the weapon. Geralt's other hand scrambles for purchase in Jaskier's armour, hoping that with a good handful he might be able to toss him off.

He half succeeds and sends the blade tumbling to the ground, narrowly missing Geralt's ear on its way down. He also manages to throw Jaskier's weight off to the side, and the movement pulls Geralt over after him, pinning Jaskier to the hard dirt and winding him for precious moments.

Geralt rolls away smoothly and picks up the fallen dagger, crouching slightly in wait for the Cat's next move. Jaskier is also quick to recover, jumping to his feet and pulling a second blade from his boot, smile gone, eyes narrowed in concentration.

They both watch each other with sharp eyes, as still as the trees around them, waiting, and Geralt weighs his options. Jaskier now stands between him and his swords, his horse, and still armed to the teeth, while Geralt holds only a dagger. Not ideal, but at least he's still wearing all of his armour.

Jaskier moves quickly, in almost the blink of an eye, kicking a cloud of ash and coals towards Geralt's face. His arm comes up to shield his eyes just in time, but then Jaskier is back in his space, wicked blade carving a shallow slice across the softer leather protecting Geralt's inner thigh. Though it doesn't cut through the pants, Geralt can feel the blow as it scores up the inside of his leg.

He twists away quickly, reaching so that his blade, or at least his vambrace, comes between him and Jaskier's next blow. The two daggers meet with a clash, and the spark has returned to Jaskier's eyes as he bears down with a series of rapid-fire slashes and stabs, only barely avoided by quick parries and dodging from Geralt.

Frustrated at being on the defence, Geralt make a grab for Jaskier's wrist again. Once he’s found a firm grip, he slams his shoulder into the other Witcher's torso, keeping a sure hold as Jaskier stumbles. With his other hand Geralt brings his blade across the weaker armour at Jaskier's shoulder, cutting clean through the strap and gambeson beneath.

The new give in the armour allows Jaskier's arm to twist into an unnatural angle, and a sickening crunch and pained groan tell Geralt the fight is won. He releases Jaskier and steps back, allowing him to drop to his knees and take in panting, pained breaths. Geralt swipes the second dagger from where it's fallen from Jaskier's now limp hand.

"Are you done?" Geralt rumbles, seeing the hurt and anger pulling together the other Witcher's brow in a deeply frustrated frown.

Jaskier glares up at him fiercely, not to be cowed, but he nods once and sits back onto his feet with a hiss. "You fucker, I just had this armour fixed."

Geralt huffs out a laugh. "Then you shouldn't go starting fights you won't win."

Jaskier glares again, but there's less bite to it. "One day you'll get cocky, old man, then I'll have you."

"So you say," Geralt teases, but decides to leave off further insult, seeing Jaskier poking at his injured shoulder, wincing pitifully. "You want me to help you with that? We should re-set it quickly."

Jaskier tries to shrug, and regrets it, letting out another pained groan which makes Geralt laugh again. "Fine! Fine you bastard, help me."

Geralt tosses both daggers away, out of reach for the both of them, and approaches the injured Witcher with less caution than he probably should. "Promise not to bite my fingers off," He warns as he reaches for the limp limb.

Jaskier grits his teeth and his good arm comes up to grip at Geralt's elbow, steadying himself as Geralt slowly starts to shift the joint back into place.

As he works, Geralt's eye is caught by sight of pale skin beneath the shredded armour. Like his own, the surface is mottled and marred with scars upon scars, but something about them stands out in his mind. Jaskier has his eyes tightly shut against the sensation in his arm, so he doesn't catch Geralt's intense scrutiny of his ruined skin.

Geralt's mind races behind the steady, stoic movement of his hands. Something sick settles in his stomach as Jaskier's arm is righted. With an uncharacteristically soft touch, Geralt takes Jaskier's good hand from his elbow and moves him to hold his own wrist against his chest while he searches in his supplies for a scrap of cloth to fashion a sling.

"Geralt?" Jaskier, now in a touch less pain, must have noticed Geralt's change in mood.

Geralt says nothing, hands clenching around the length of clean linen he's managed to find. He takes a breath to settle himself before turning back to the Witcher kneeling in the dirt by the firelight.

Jaskier is also uncharacteristically quiet, watching him approach with curious and concerned eyes. "What's gotten into you? Usually a good fight makes you less taciturn."

Geralt hums and looks away from those inquisitive eyes, whist also fighting to keep his gaze from returning to the bare skin of Jaskier's shoulder. To distract himself from the gnawing in his insides, Geralt turns to the logistics.

"Do you want to remove your armour before I immobilise the arm, or are you happy to sleep in it?"

Jaskier seems almost startled by the question and he chews on his lower lip, brows drawn together in thought. Geralt understands his apprehension, just moments ago they'd held a blade to each other, and now Geralt was asking Jaskier to make himself completely vulnerable in his presence.

Several expressions cross Jaskier's face in the space of a heartbeat, and Geralt doesn't even attempt to interpret them. Jaskier sighs, "I'll need it off for repairs anyway, might as well get it over with now.”

Geralt nods absently and gives Jaskier the linen to hold as he carefully starts to unbuckle the swords strapped across his back. His fingers feel stiff, and he feels strangely scrutinised as Jaskier watches him work, unable to provide much assistance. Geralt tries to keep any jarring movements to a minimum, but each gasp and wince from Jaskier tells him he could probably be doing better.

Jaskier lets out another pained sound as Geralt has to shift his arm to slide off the damaged shoulder piece, and he does feel a little guilty at causing such an immobilising injury. The being said, Witcher healing will probably have a good range of movement back by morning, but for a little pain, so the Cat will just have to survive until then. Geralt replaces Jaskier’s hold on his wrist once again, and together they manoeuvre off the second spaulder and leather breastplate as best they can between them.

The torn gambeson falls open wider at Jaskier’s shoulder without the armour holding it in place, and as Geralt suspected, the intense map of scars continues further beneath. Without thinking, he brushes his fingers along the shallow cut left by his blade, the streak of blood already drying, and the collection of old scars alongside it. At the touch, Jaskier finally notices the focus of Geralt’s attention.

Geralt can see from the corner of his eye as Jaskier’s jaw clenches, and he catches the sharp hiss as his muscles unconsciously tighten. Geralt meets his gaze and holds it steadily, taking in the pain, old and new, as well as the stubbornness that he sees there.

"Geralt-" Jaskier starts, tone cautioning, but Geralt cuts him off before he can continue.

"Who did this to you?" When Geralt speaks his voice is quiet and tense. He’s finally found a name for the feeling deep in his gut, the web of scars dancing across his mind's eye even as he looks into matching gold. Rage.

Geralt’s hand hovers over the clasp at Jaskier’s neck, not sure if either of them is quite ready for Geralt to see what lies beneath. Almost defiantly, Jaskier’s free hand comes up and releases the first buckle with an impatient yank, working quickly down the front until the garment hangs open.

Though hidden slightly under dark hair, it's impossible to miss the horrible extent of the countless interlacing marks. Before Geralt can stop himself, he's mapping them out with his eyes, noting the neat, careful lines interspersed with crudely carved words. Mutant. Freak. Monster. Butcher. Words Geralt knows well. He swallows roughly at the sight.

"No monster made those." Geralt's voice is as cold as ice, as sharp as the daggers now lying in the dirt. "Who did this?"

Jaskier's amber eyes are narrowed in annoyance, and something darker, when they once again meet Geralt's. "What does it matter? They're all just scars." Geralt thinks its flippancy he’s aiming for, but the steel in his voice betrays his unease.

"I know that's not true."

Jaskier huffs out an angry breath and tugs impatiently at his sleeve, clearly causing himself pain in the process. He gives up with a cry of frustration. "Will you just help me out of this godforsaken thing?"

Though Geralt has no interest in letting him just brush away the topic of conversation, he still moves quickly to help Jaskier carefully extract himself from the heavy garment. The weather is mild, but with his torso bare to the night air, Jaskier can't hold off a slight shiver.

Geralt curses and returns to his things to search for a spare shirt to lend Jaskier. Perhaps next time his unexpected guest could turn up with more than just his swords and an attitude. Thankfully Geralt is able to find an aging black undershirt to offer up.

Standing in front of Jaskier, something in the Witcher's expression calls out to Geralt. Jaskier's clutching the gambeson in his lap like a lifeline, picking aggressively at the cut in the fabric. Geralt kneels in front of him, once again level with those amber eyes, both of them searching for somehthing. What Jaskier sees in his Geralt can't rightly say, but whatever it is must inspire some confidence, or sincerity.

"Let's just say, not everyone appreciates a Witcher getting involved in local politics and leave it at that." Jaskier is working hard to keep his voice steady, Geralt knows, but he can't keep the stricken look from his eyes. "Why do you care, Geralt?"

"Jaskier," It takes nothing at all for Geralt to lean forward and catch the desperate words with a kiss. Many times, Geralt has imagined his first chance to kiss Jaskier. More often than not, he pictures a fierce, heated kiss in the middle of one of their impromptu sparring bouts. But this, this is nothing like that.

This kiss is soft, and warm, and short. Barely the length of a heartbeat.

"I care about you," Geralt confesses, sitting back to watch the expressions evolve on Jaskier's face.

"Oh," Jaskier says, looking dazed, and all the ugly feelings curling in Geralt's chest float away like smoke at the sight of the little crease between his eyebrows.

Something else is building in Geralt's belly that makes him feel like laughing, but he settles for a small smirk as he holds up the forgotten shirt. Jaskier does laugh and Geralt wants to chase it with another kiss, but he's painfully aware of sitting in full armour before the half-dressed Witcher.

Jaskier allows Geralt to help him into the shirt and set the injured arm as comfortably as possible across his chest, both of them silent from a new kind of tension as Geralt works. He binds the limb snugly against Jaskier's collarbone and ties off the cloth neatly where Jaskier can undo it himself quickly and easily when necessary.

Jaskier stretches, testing a few movements, and nods to himself and turns back to Geralt, evidently happy that it's stable and comfortable. His new expression sends a small thrill through Geralt, a shy smile, but almost as wicked as the last time he threw himself at the stoic Witcher.

His free hand goes straight to Geralt's hair to pull him forward into another kiss. Just as sweet as the first, but with all the fierceness Geralt has been expecting and anticipating. Geralt makes a sound low in his throat and his hands come up to cup Jaskier's face, sliding along his jaw and into his hair, beard both soft and rough beneath his fingertips and against his mouth.

Jaskier whines when Geralt pulls away, and gods if that doesn't make it hard not to just fall back into him and never stop, but Geralt has no intention to rush this. He also has a feeling neither of them will be particularly inclined to be careful if things go much further.

"You need to heal," Geralt murmurs, resting his forehead against Jaskier's as they both catch their breath.

Jaskier gives a breathy chuckle in response. "Spoilsport."

The two unentangle themselves and help each other back to their feet, not straying far from each other's touch. Jaskier steps away for a moment to let out a piercing whistle that leaves Geralt's ears ringing, even as he hears the steady beats of Jaskier's approaching horse.

"Oh, so you didn't need to steal my clothes," Geralt teases.

Jaskier smiles not-quite-innocently at him. "Much more fun this way, though."

As Jaskier collects his things from his horse, a stocky grey mare, Geralt eases himself out of his own armour, not feeling quite as vulnerable as the occasion probably calls for. When he's done, he turns to see Jaskier laying out his bedroll beside his own and Geralt watches him with a soft smile that he will absolutely deny if caught.

"Are you going to stand around all night?" Jaskier asks as he lays out on his back and looks up at him.

Geralt huffs out a laugh and settles down beside him, just out of reach. Jaskier rolls onto his side to face him, his good up under him, propping up his chin. Though Geralt internally kicks himself for being so sappy, he can't help noticing the way the firelight dances in Jaskier's golden eyes, and wonders if Jaskier sees the same in his own.

Jaskier leans in closer, reaching over to touch Geralt's face, fingers dancing across his cheekbone. "I care about you too," He whispers, and his fingers brush through Geralt's hair so softly it pulls the air from his lungs.

Geralt rushes forward to meet him in another kiss, the steady pump of his heart a constant reminder of the sensation threatening to burst in his chest. He loops an arm around Jaskier's waist and pulls himself in close, aching at the warmth beneath his touch.

This time its Jaskier who pulls himself away, leaving Geralt bereft. "As you said, I need to heal," He recites, and Geralt lets out a frustrated groan. Jaskier just chuckles and settles down into the bedding. He lets Geralt pull himself in closer and get comfortable wrapped around him.

Somewhat reluctantly, Geralt lets his eyes close, and he listens to the sounds of Jaskier's soft breathing and steady heartbeat. After what feels like an age, but also no time at all, Geralt finds himself drifting into an easy, comfortable sleep. 

 ------

 When Geralt wakes the next morning, it’s to the feeling of a warm weight above him, and a sharp blade at his throat. He cracks his eyes open to the sight of a familiar grin hovering above him and raises an eyebrow in question, only half-wondering if he should be concerned.

"What did I tell you, Kocimiętka?" Jaskier leans forward, and his smirking face nuzzles into the side of Geralt's neck with almost a purr. "Cocky."

Geralt gives an answering growl low in his chest, gripping hard at Jaskier's thighs where they straddle his waist. Jaskier leans back again to look him in the eye, grin sharp and wide, eyes dark in the growing light of dawn.

Geralt knows they're both aware that he could easily roll them over and reverse the position, but he's reluctant to do so with Jaskier's shoulder as it is. Instead, Geralt slides his hands up and around the firm, slender waist, and leans up to meet the smug Cat in a kiss, as slow as their last, and almost as sweet.

Secondary A/N: "Tojad" is the Polish for Wolfsbane or aconite, and I figure Geralt has been calling Jaskier this for a little while now "Kocimiętka" is the Polish for catnip/catmint and Jaskier is trying it on for size (I think he and Geralt like it, how about you?)

[gospelofme]

Tenuous At Best

Chapter 1: Introductions

Anaru’s eyes tried to focus on something a couple feet away. He blinked a couple times and that seemed to help. He was laying on his side in what looked like a concrete room. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his right arm aching due to it being pinned under his body. He rubbed the aching limb and looked around. Where was he? How did he get here? He thought back, the memories coming very slowly and then all at once. There was an ambush. Sith? Maybe. Something had struck him in the outer thigh. It stung but he’d brushed whatever it was off. A bug? Seconds after that his muscles had started to seize up, he had yelled to his team to press on after the Sith, but one stayed behind. His memory stops after looking up to see a bright red bolt pierce his comrade’s skull.

He hauled himself off the floor and stretched his muscles to try to get rid of the pain and discomfort. That concrete floor had been less than comfortable. He rubbed his necked and immediately noticed something. His hands felt around a collar, metal, with wires that he could feel every now and then. He pulled on it, nothing. He shrugged and figured he could remove it with the Force. Nothing. He frowned and tried again. And like before, nothing. A realization struck him, he didn’t feel anything. No connection to the Force at all. He knew it was there of course, but it was blocked from him. The collar emitted a frequency that affected his ability to use the Force. The notion scared him, but only briefly. If he was patient, he could figure something out. He needed to sit and wait and his captors would come to him shortly. With that thought In his head, he took a seat on the bunk in his room. The thin mattress barely had any cushion to it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. One didn’t need the Force to meditate.

Ursa’s eyes focused immediately on a word scratched into the wall about half a foot from her face. It was in some language she didn’t speak and so, she ignored it. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had a massive headache. A hangover? Maybe. Where was she? Jail? For what caused the hangover? Probably. Wait. A memory suddenly surfaced. No, she was watching a target. Her mission was to shadow the enemy soldier and find their camp. She had been so close too, until she remembered something stinging her in the neck. As soon as she had felt the sensation, her hand had flown to her neck and she had pulled a dart out. It wasn’t long after that that her fingers could no longer hold onto the object and it fell from her hands. She stood up quickly, not worried about giving away her position, it was too dark for her target to see her and she had cloaked her Force signature. As soon as she had stood up, she blacked out and hit the ground.

Once on her feet, Ursa stretched her back. The crack that resulted felt nice. She spotted the door to the concrete room and casually waved her hand. Nothing happened. Maybe her connection to the Force is a bit sluggish from whatever she was drugged with. She moved her neck around and furrowed her brow.

“What in the kriff...” she muttered, touching the collar around her neck. She summoned the Force again and, nothing. She felt nothing. No Force. She began to panic, she didn’t like feeling this vulnerable. She wrapped her hands around the edges of the collar and pulled. No luck, it was secured tightly. Her fingers found a wire, that could be something. She gave a tug and it sparked, stinging her fingers as she pulled her hand away sharply. The collar stayed put and continued to operate, inhibiting her connection to the Force. She gave an irritated hiss, anger building in her core. Whoever did this would pay with blood. Their blood. She went to the door, there was a very small opening through which she just saw an empty hallway. There was another identical looking door across from hers but it was too dark to see if anyone was in it. Not that she cared. She slid her arm through the bars in the opening and tried to reach the control panel on the side of the wall. But no matter how she angled her body, it was just out of reach. She gave a frustrated yell and slammed the bottom of her foot against the door. The sound echoed through the hallway.

Anaru opened his eyes when a yell echoed around him. It sounded like whoever had made it was close by. He got up and walked over to his own door, peering through the bars on the small window.

“Hello?” He initiated conversation carefully, he wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick. Ursa perked up when she heard a voice answer. He sounded right next to her. She walked over to the door and tried to see who was in the room to her right. The angle was just not cooperating. She could hear him but not see him. Not that that really mattered.

“Can you reach the control panel to your door?” She asked, not bothering to introduce herself or make small talk. She wanted out so she could enact her revenge and get back to her missions.

Anaru tried to squeeze his arm through the opening in the bars, but couldn’t get passed his elbow.

“No, my upper arm is too big.” He said, defeated.

“Kriff.” Came the woman’s reply, sounding irritated. She didn’t say anymore after that. Anaru felt less alone now that he knew there was someone next door. Someone who wanted to escape as much as he did.

Anaru sighed and walked back over to his bunk, stretching out on the thin mattress. His body was still sore from laying on the concrete floor, at least the mattress was more comfortable. Ursa did the same in her room. She didn’t want to rest or sleep, but there was nothing else to do currently. She wasn’t interested in making conversation with her new neighbor either. If anything, she’ll use him as a distraction during her escape. Once she figures out how to escape that is.

Silence stewed between the neighbors but after 10 minutes, doors at one end of the hallway opened up and there were voices. Ursa leapt to her feet and quietly hurried to the door, she kept low so she wouldn’t be noticed right away. She peeked out watched two men dragging a form between them. Another prisoner. This one looked Rodian. One man held the unconscious prisoner and the other opened the door of the room in front of hers. She watched as the Rodian was tossed into the room, the door being closed and secured after. The Rodian had had a collar on as well. One of the men backed up close to her door viewing port. Ursa struck like a snake, her arm shooting out between the bars and wrapped around the man’s neck. She pulled him back and grabbed her wrist with her other than. The man didn’t get off much more than a startled yell before gasping and trying to pull her arm away.

Anaru heard the sudden commotion and tried to view what was happening. He could see one man and a portion of another who was struggling. His neighbor must be trying something. He wasn’t in much a position to help. All he could do was observe.

“Shock her!” One man managed to gasp out, his voice raspy. The other man fumbled for something, a remote. He pointed it in the direction of where his neighbor’s door was. He pressed a button and it didn’t look like anything happened.

“Hah! A little shock doesn’t hurt me!” He heard his neighbor laugh. Just who was that woman? The man with the remote tried again but his partner’s lips were turning blue now. Ursa pulled her arm back harder against the man’s throat. Soon he would be dead. The shock of the collar was irritating but she had been trained to resist electric shocks.

The man pocketed his remote and tried to pull the woman’s arm away from his partner’s throat. His partner was weakly palming at a pocket on his vest. The dart gun. Of course. The man took the small pistol out of his partner’s pocket and loaded a dart laced with the sedative Lecepanine. He couldn’t see the woman’s face, she kept it from view but her arm was in plain sight. He fired the dart into her outer arm, which quickly loosened. He heard a thump and knew she was out. His partner dropped to the floor, gasping for air. His face slowly returned to it’s normal color. He tried to speak, but could only manage a few raspy sounds.

Anaru watched as the man hauled his friend up and half walked-half dragged him back down the hallway. One man was still coughing and taking gasping breaths, the other berated him for getting within range of the prisoners. The door at the end of the corridor opened and closed, the space returning to silence again. Anaru knew his neighbor had tried something, he didn’t need the Force for that much. He wasn’t a fan of intentionally killing another life form, but he knew it was required at times. Plus he didn’t know how long his neighbor had been here, maybe she had been a prisoner for a long time. Anaru had returned to his bunk when he heard another prisoner call out.

“Is there anyone else here?” The voice echoed.

“I am.” Anaru said, approaching his door’s viewing port.

“Thank the Force.” Came the relieved voice, it was the Rodian who had been brought in earlier.

“I’m Haz Guff, who are you?”

“Anaru Kekoa.”

“You’re Draz Harley’s old Padawan! Boy, they’re looking for you!” The Rodian exclaimed excitedly. Anaru perked up suddenly, the Rodian’s face became visible as he looked through his own viewing window.

“You’re a Jedi too?” Anaru asked, smiling when the Rodian nodded.

“I can’t use the Force though, it’s this collar I think.”

“They’re Force Dampeners.” Came the woman’s dry reply. Anaru had nearly forgotten about her.

“Do we have a third Jedi?” Guff asked.

“Yup.” Came a quick, sharp reply.

“What’s your name?” Anaru asked.

“Ursa.” She replied.

“Well surely the three of us can figure out how to get out of here.” Guff said simply. Anaru liked the idea of an escape and liked Guff’s confidence. Ursa smirked. This couldn’t have been better. Sure she was stuck in this place, but that was just temporary. She’d use these Jedi to get her out, then she’d kill them and the ones that took her hostage. Easy as pie.

Tag list

@jgvfhl @leias-left-hair-bun @baby-queen-zen

@halzore @escapedthesarlacc

[tevivinter]

For DWC! Pairing of your choice for the college/university AU: "you live above me and I’m going to murder you if you don’t stop throwing parties Sunday night"

I couldn’t finish this in time for DWC but I wouldn’t be able to wait until next week to post! Thanks @luzial​ for the ask, I love these modern AUs so much :D

----

It had been only three weeks ever since someone moved into the room above his own. Not even a full month and this person, whoever it was, had already managed to turn his weekends into shit. Marel threw the pillow over his head in an attempt to hush the damn noise coming from above. No matter what he did - whether it was putting on headphones or even bumping the ceiling with a broom - nothing could change the fact that sleeping on Sunday nights felt like an impossible task to do.

“Hey, pissbag!” Sera, his roommate, yelled from the upper half of their bunk bed. “We’re friggin’ trying to sleep here!”

Marel’s voice came out like a muffled grumble from under the pillow. “They can’t hear you.”

“Ugh,” she groaned in frustration. Sera stared at the ceiling for a moment, considering. “We should really prank that guy. Bet he couldn’t do any parties that way.”

Marel took the pillow off his head with a frown. “You know who’s up there?”

“One of the popular ones,” she shrugged. “His dad is rich or something. Bet they’re both asses.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dorian, I guess. Pff, you really don’t know shit about him.”

“How should I-” Just when Marel began to answer, the roaring sound of music somehow became even louder. The beats thumped incessantly in his ears, loud enough to make him feel like the room was goddamn shaking. Marel tightened his fists. “You know what- fuck this.”

Sera sticked her head off the upper mattress once she heard the sound of footsteps in the dark. She quickly caught the sight of Marel reaching for the doorknob. “Tell him to piss off for me, yeah?”

He glanced at her before opening the door. “Gladly.”

Marel let out an annoyed groan as soon as he walked outside the room. He didn’t bother to change his flannel sweatpants nor the oversized shirt that he wore for sleep. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put some slippers on because he was pretty sure it was at least 2am and he just wanted to sleep. Marel crossed the corridor easily enough even while in the dark. He only used his phone light to go up the stairs, putting it back into his pocket as soon as he got there.

It didn’t take long for Marel to find what he looked for. The room just above his own had plenty of colorful lights leaking from underneath its door. The noise was somehow even worse on the second floor, which made Marel wonder why the heck no one else had complained about it yet. He approached the room with furrowed brows and knocked.

But no one answered. Fucking Creators. Marel took a deep breath before closing his fist tighter to knock once again, hitting the wood with more force. He was already counting the seconds for the third knock, and gods help him if no one listened this time--

The door suddenly creaked open, revealing a flash of colorful light that felt utterly blinding in contrast to the dark corridor. Marel instantly winced in response, raising one hand to his eye level to block some of the brightness towards his face.

The man who answered the door was impeccably dressed. His dark purple shirt was a perfect fit for his body without being too tight, and the fact that he had at least one button undone was distracting to say the least. His black pants looked expensive as well as his shoes - in fact, his entire outfit looked like something worthy of a movie star. But his clothes alone were not the reason why Marel went speechless for a second.

Marel cursed at himself for feeling his cheeks growing hotter by the second. “You're making too much noise," he finally said. "It's pissing me off."

He never expected that guy to be so damn handsome, for fuck’s sake. Marel simply found himself unable to look away from his face, swallowing.

"Well? Can I help you?" The stranger asked, arching one dark brow at him.

"Truly?" The man asked in what appeared to be genuine surprise.

Marel frowned. "You seriously thought that no one would hear this shit?"

"Who's there, Dorian?" A female voice came from inside the room.

Dorian looked over his shoulder, still holding the door half open. "It's only an unexpected guest, Mae. I'll be back in a moment." Just when he was about to step out, he added: "Oh, and turn the music down, will you? We so happen to be bothering our neighbors."

And with that he looked at Marel once again. "Well then. Do you have a minute?"

Marel took a second to realize that he was still standing in the doorway. He stepped back with a confused expression, not bothering to say anything.

The stranger turned the corridor lights on as soon as he stepped out of the room. "Let's start again, shall we?"

Now that they could properly see each other, Marel couldn't help but stare into the stormy grey eyes ahead of him. Something about those eyes seemed to pull him in, and Marel swallowed silently once he realized that guy was not only handsome - he was fucking breathtaking. 

Marel slipped his hands into his pockets, once more muttering silent curses to himself. "I'm not exactly here to chat."

"I know, which is why I'll make things brief." Dorian managed a small smile that lifted the edges of his moustache just a bit. "Truth be told, I was quite sure that my room had soundproof walls until this very moment. I did ask for it before moving here."

"Really? A soundproof room?" Marel scoffed. "You realize clubs are a thing, right?"

Hearing that made him frown slightly. "If only things were that simple.” There was a hint of resentment in his tone, Marel noticed, but it soon faded away with a small shook of his head. “In any case, I owe you my apologies. I had no clue I was bothering other people.”

It was becoming increasingly harder to stay mad at Dorian, mostly because his words sounded pretty honest. Still, the fact that no one even thought to knock at his door for three weeks made Marel intrigued. “So no one else came here to complain before me?”

“You are the first one. Shocking, isn’t it?” Dorian crossed his arms while casually leaning against the wall. “The other students - I assume they are most likely to be afraid of my father. How foolish of them,” he waved dismissingly. “But now that I’ve mentioned it...” He looked at Marel again with a certain curiosity in his gaze. “You don’t happen to know who I am, do you?”

Marel shrugged. “My roommate said you are a rich guy named Dorian.” A pause. “By the way, she told you to piss off.”

Somehow the comment made Dorian chuckle humorously. “She’s not entirely wrong, I’m afraid. It seems I should apologize to her as well.”

Marel couldn’t help a small smile at that. “You probably should. Wouldn’t want to see her angry,” he suggested.

“What about you?” Dorian asked, looking at Marel up and down in an attempt to recognize him. “I don’t recall seeing you around. What is your name?”

Somehow Marel had managed to completely forget that he was still in his pajamas up until that moment. He was probably looking like a clown with his red flannel sweatpants and old blue shirt. Hell, he didn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his undercut was a complete mess too. In the meantime Dorian looked dashing in every possible way, which made him feel more than just a little self conscious.

He glanced down for a moment while wishing to bury his head on the ground. “I’m Marel,” he muttered.

“Marel? I believe I’ve heard some things about you.” That earned him a questioning look, one that made Dorian chuckle once more. “But don’t worry. I’m not one to believe in mindless gossip.”

Being aware of his own reputation, Marel almost sighed in relief after knowing that Dorian didn’t care for any of that. People often thought of him as a troublemaker for numerous reasons, up to the point that he was already used to it by now. Still, it felt refreshing not to be judged at first sight.

“Me neither.” The music had already stopped by then, leaving the two of them in silence. Marel took his hands off his pockets. “I... think I should get back to sleep.”

Dorian nodded. “Naturally.” He watched for a moment as Marel began to walk his way to the stairs. “Oh, and Marel?”

Marel looked back at him, stopping when he was just about to step down. “What?”

“Do feel free to stop by if you ever want to have a few drinks.” Dorian smiled as he opened the door. “You should invite your roommate as well - I hear vodka is a wonderful way to apologize.”

The corners of his mouth involuntarily twitched into a smile. Marel let out a breathless chuckle, glad to be far away so that Dorian couldn’t see him blush. “I’ll see you around, Dorian.”

The lights were on when Marel returned to his room. Sera didn’t even wait for him to properly enter before practically leaping at his direction. “The music stopped. Just- stopped! How did you do that?” She questioned, eyeing him suspiciously for a second. “Did you find that Dori-whatever?”

“Yeah.” Marel closed the door, not minding the way she interrogated him. “Turns out he’s not an ass.”

“Really?” Sera asked, stepping away to allow him to move towards his bed. “Because he looked like richy-ass type to me.”

There was a slight creak of wood when Marel laid on his bed. He turned his body to face the wall. “He said that I- we,” he quickly corrected, “could join him for a drink sometime.”

It didn’t take long before Sera had a mischievous grin on her face. “Ohhh.” That made him roll his eyes. “You think he’s hot, innit?”

She giggled when Marel threw a pillow in her direction, dodging it with ease. “Missed it, dumbass.” She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was embarrassed.

“Go get some sleep,” Marel grumbled.

“Alright, but only because it’s hella late.” Sera turned the lights off and proceeded to effortlessly hop into the upper bed. A moment of silence went by before she spoke again. “Try not to dream of him, yeah?”

Marel groaned. “For fuck’s sake, Sera-”

She giggled one last time before finally falling asleep.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XLII: Refraction

There were more things I could have said, could have told the others as they ran, but that wouldn’t have done any of us any good. We had our paths to take, roles to play, and mine was to take down this enemy before me, the very same enemy that shared my own face.

“It’s just you and me now,” I let the venomous words pour out of my mouth. While I sounded bored, I was anything but; I was mentos and cola. I was downright itching for a fight. That slasher smile crept its way onto my lips and all I needed was the signal.

“Good,” ‘she’ too shared that same smile. Disgusting. I wanted to tear that smile clean off. No, forget clean. I wanted to make ‘her’ face a bloody mess.

“Who are you really?” I demanded while readying my rifle.

My foe, too, prepared and I watched their arms unfold like tapestry and shift into several small snake-like limbs with sharp, jagged tips.

“I said already: I’m Rhea Flection,” their smile spread. I could tell whoever it was behind that little monstrous form, they were taking delight in this.

“Bullshit.”

They lifted up their shirt (which may have been attached to them now as whenever they regenerated, the clothing did as well. Maybe it was a modesty thing, I wasn’t sure. Not like I minded either way, and besides, I’ve seen myself naked once or twice. It was just a body. Okay, maybe a dead body, but still) to reveal a large gash across their stomach, like fissures in the ground near a volcano. Just a deep slash; a horizontal line of dried, darkened blood from one end to the other.

All that confirms is that you took control of a fucking corpse. Big whoop.

After a few more seconds, they lowered the end of what I assumed was the shirt that once belonged to the other me and stared right at me as the sickening smile continued to display on that face.

“So you see, it is I: the original, reborn. As such, I’m sure you’re aware of the little rule about the universe, aren’t you?” They paced about, expression unchanged as they shifted behind one of the large kegs in the back.

“Yes. I’m aware,” I replied, my voice shallow. It was useless to pace as well. I closed my eyes and waited.

The same person from two timelines can’t exist in the same timeline. If one happened to cross over, the other would die, I recited that little thought. That rule which I was never even sure when it became defined, yet had rung true throughout history. Luckily, I don’t have to worry about that.

Those vine-like sharp appendages shot forth and I leaned back while opening one eye as I watched them pass me by just a hair’s breadth. In that same instance, I took my rifle in my other hand, then fired at my double, who happened to be situated between two large kegs. As I fired, they shifted again and in tandem, I shivered.

“Argh,” I ground my teeth. Out of all the times it had to happen.

This is what I get for choosing to live.

As the burst from the shell missed my target and hit the wall right behind them, they began to cackle a laugh that wasn’t very characteristic for the body they were inhabiting.

“You need to be more careful,” they sneered as they ran long, clawed nails against the wood of the keg’s exterior. It produced a sound like rubbing a coin against sandpaper. It was grating and made me shake my head and clench my teeth in frustration. “What if one of these kegs burst? And alcohol spilled out? Then, what if you fired your gun and it missed, and instead exploded –”

I adjusted my aim and fired right at the top of their arm, just under the shoulder. Sure enough, there was an explosion, but no puncture to the keg. What a relief.

They winced and heaved out breath after breath while I watched as what made up their arm wriggled as several tiny pieces. Like watching many worms or maggots. Whatever they were, tissue or something else, it was inhuman. Soon, they expanded and connected back to the arm in question and that smile smeared back onto her face with a very heinous scowl to accompany it. That was the last glimpse I caught before they dashed back behind the keg they stood behind.

I shook my head. How tiresome.

Little taps against the floor trickled into my ears and it wasn’t long before I saw their figure once more pass from the back and near the entrance to the tunnels, but stopped right at the end and shot forth both arms. Along the way toward me, they split into many more limbs, each with sharp tips. They spread out, making it so it wouldn’t be possible to avoid them all. On both sides, I was surrounded.

Time to get reckless.

I took a step back, then fired both of my pistols at the masses meant to surround me, the resulting blast caused a chain reaction which resulted in each of the little masses of limbs crumbling down and withering into bits of ash. At the same time, I ran in, knowing I had a short window of time as it didn’t take those things long to regenerate. As I darted toward the host in question, the multitude of limbs regrew and tried to close in around me as if they two tidal waves and I were in the middle of the ocean.

When I drew closer and the wave of wriggling limbs collapsed in on themselves, my impostor retracted their many vine-like limbs and returned to having long, clawed hands. They swiped to the side, but I ducked and fired the pistol their way, blasting a hole right in the center of their chest.

That time, no change in reaction. Worse, they stood in place and the gap in the center refilled itself.

“Are you sure you wanted to do that?” Came that sinister sneer and before I could react, they grabbed my arm, then lifted one leg up and kicked me so hard that I fell back onto the cold, hard floor.

Who knew they could kick so hard? I thought as I winced and jumped back up to my feet.

“These boots are mine,” they claimed, as if in response to my little thought. “I may be able to transform myself now, but I can assure you, it is I.”

Note to self: it’s not a good idea to get close to them. Too risky.

I darted away, off toward the giant keg barrel next to the entrance. It should have provided cover, but they sprinted forward and I jumped back just in time to line with their strike, then fired off one of my pistols. That time, a miss, as they ducked to avoid it, then opened their mouth and many needle-like appendages shot forth and tore through the thick sailor uniform I had donned and punctured the flesh of my arms. I hissed out and spat as I felt each cut, and then they went for my face, and I batted them away, but the little thorns and spikes cut through my hands as well.

Despite each little sting, I couldn’t be bothered to stop and react. I took off once more and the laughs of my enemy turned to a slow, deep taunt.

“Look at you: you were so confident back there, and now you’re running from me,” they bellowed. Whoever was behind that form must have relished in the fact that they were using the corpse which belonged to my other self. Like a little taunt in of itself.

You probably think it disturbs me to have to fight something that shares my own face, but I’m feeling quite the opposite: I’m excited.

“Let me ask you this: how did you manage to get down here without the others noticing? I know for a fact that you weren’t down here this whole time,” they inquired as their voice echoed and grew in intensity to match the sound of their ever closer footsteps.

“I was in vent,” I replied, not caring that they were an enemy. At that point, it didn’t really matter what I told them, as I would bring them down either way. Soon they would draw near, and in anticipation, I reattached the two guns so they were once again a heavy rifle in my arms.

Even if I go down along with them, I won’t draw my last breath until they’ve drawn theirs.

“Of course. I should have taken that into account. An oversight on my part,” they acknowledged, then lunged beside where I stood and those same claws reached out at me.

Running toward does me no good. Neither does running away.

I blocked those claws with my rifle, then it was my turn to kick them away as in one swift motion I raised a leg and thrust it into their side. They were knocked back and taking such an opportunity to my advantage, I pointed my rifle and pulled the trigger, its blast pushed me back as well. My eyes managed to lock on to my enemy who was struck and their head was obliterated, the place where their neck had been burnt as the sparks reached down to claim their torso.

I shook my head. As much as I wished it were that easy, I knew it wasn’t yet over.

Before I could react, hope to finish things sooner rather than later, those same worm-like appendages swung around from the stump that once made up their head, and soon more accompanied them. I reached into the sailor outfit, hoping to use my secret weapon, but I knew it wouldn’t have done me any good. Not yet.

Yet I didn’t want to give them any satisfaction, either. I shot forth once more, this time in the chest. Just as the head was beginning to reform, as well, but it became useless; their entire upper-half was gone, incinerated.

Their legs became the only thing that was left of them and I lowered my aim, but before I could, two long appendages emerged from the top and I saw mouths at the end of them, open wide and hungry, having taken on a life of its own.

They swerved around my rifle, much faster than I could aim or avoid, and tore into the sleeves of my sailor’s outfit and bit into the flesh of my arm. I reached for those...whatever they were. Goddamn leeches, for whatever I cared, and pulled them off. But when I looked up, saw what they were attached to, I knew the fight was far from over: they had regenerated once more, a full, taunting display. That same sinister face.

“You can try many times, but I’ll continue to come back and I just know you don’t have an unlimited supply of ammunition,” again, that taunt. “Sooner or later, you will run out and the question will be whether your life or your ammunition will run out first as you, meanwhile, only have one life.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I brushed off. “I’ve heard it all before. YOLO.”

It was true, though, that I couldn’t just keep shooting and hope that one shot would put them down for good. If I wanted to put an end to this, I would have to make whatever few shots I had count.

Of course, I have other means to finish you off.

“But you know,” I continued, with little regard for whatever their next move would be, “in a way, that’s my strength. You see, pain means little to you as you can just recover within an instant. But me? I bleed, and I feel the weight of every one of my injuries.”

“How is that a strength?” They asked, incredulous.

Really, I could have given an answer, but if I was being honest, I didn’t know how that worked either.

Maybe I just prefer being mortal, if I’m being honest. That sense that there will be an end.

They ran forth, going on the offensive. Figuring the time to pull it out was drawing near, I dashed out from between the kegs and back into the middle of the room so that I would have more space to work with. However, their many appendages were faster and swung forth at the back of my heel, cutting through the skin of my ankle and causing me to trip over. I landed on my side with a heavy thud.

“Damn it,” I hissed. At least I landed smack dab in the middle of the room, right where I wanted to be. As I turned to my back, I grabbed my rifle and aimed toward the creature who had taken on the image of that other me. But before I could fire, they shot one of their appendages from out of their back and tossed my rifle out of my hands. To add insult to injury, or maybe just more injury, before I could pick myself back up, they leaped forward and stamped down against my chest with their boot.

I wheezed out a little, “oof” sound and tried to get up, but they just dug their heel further into my chest. They looked down and as hard as it was to admit, I really was pinned down.

“You really have become so weak, haven’t you? Your old self wouldn’t have sustained so many injuries, wouldn’t have fallen for so many obvious traps, but here you are, a feeble shadow of your old self. Now that I’ve worn you down, I’ll stamp out every bit of life left in you, tear you limb from limb, devour you, and at last, take your place.”

I gasped as she dug in deeper and my breaths soon became shorter and more shallow. Their heel was so close to my neck, weighing down on my throat.

This is so uncomfortable, was my only thought, is this what Demetria wanted me to do to her way back when? I don’t get it, though. It doesn’t feel good at all. So why? Why would she want something like that? What’s so attractive about this? It makes no goddamn sense!

“...Why…?” I managed to wheeze out.

“Why? Really? That’s all you have to say? The answer should be simple enough: you don’t belong to this world. You were just an opportunist, thinking you could –”

I turned my head and my shaking hand grabbed their ankle and squeezed down, then pulled.

“No. Why does anyone find this attractive?!” I gasped out, and that time I was furious.

I slammed them down and that time they were the one on the ground. That meant it was my turn to stomp down, and sure enough, I did. Over and over and over and – you get the idea.

“Why?!” I stomped down and shouted.

“Is this hot to you? Huh? Huh?” I stomped down. Again.

“It doesn’t feel good at all, does it? DOES IT?!” My voice grew more shrill as I aimed my own boot right at their head and stamped down, hard enough to squish through their skull like it was a pumpkin.

“What if I kept going? Huh? Does that turn you on, then?” I huffed and puffed and continued to stomp around, disregarding the fact that it wouldn’t really kill my enemy. That no longer mattered to me. I went on until at last, a deep breath and I willed myself to stop.

As soon as I stopped, my foe wriggled across the floor and reformed a couple of meters away from me. It only took a few seconds for that replica Rhea to stand across from me once more. Just as I was confused about what made something so violent a turn on, my enemy also had a confused expression as their brow curled and their head tilted. No grin, just pursed lips and a tilted head.

“Did you get that out of your system?” They asked.

“Yeah,” I let out one last deep breath of relief, “I think I’m good now. Thanks.”

“Good. Shall we continue?”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

We both charged at each other, our fists readied. I already knew I was at a disadvantage, but that didn’t matter anymore. At last, I began to feel it: the heat of battle. As if little drafts of hot air flew past me.

As their clawed fist opened up and those long talon-like tendril nails shot out, I ducked and reached into the sailor uniform and pulled out the small spear I had crafted and swung it upward, tearing that vessel in front of me clear in half.

They shrieked as blood spilled out onto the floor and I thought I saw a massive maw of teeth and a tongue split in two right in the middle of what should have been their torso.

“You,” they growled, the ‘mouth’ on their head also having been split in half, yet able to speak just fine all the same.

“Yeah, it’s crude,” I held up the small spear. Once just a metal rod, but I had a particular mineral tied to the end of it, “but while I was out at sea without my rifle, I had to make do with what I had. There could have been any number of creatures of the deep ready to strike, not to mention that I knew that if I wandered through that fog, you’d have wanted nothing more than to tear me apart then and there. So I fastened a shard of an angel’s essence to the tip of it.”

They scowled and grimaced. I dunno, I guess they didn’t like the exposition. Here I thought they’d have appreciated an explanation, but I guess being Remora was a thankless job. Alas, while my bullets contained similar kind of material, it was amusing to think that what could have done them in was just a poorly made spear.

Alas, that wasn’t the case: no, it wasn’t a straightforward reformation like before, as their left fist clenched and their face scrunched up, like they were trying to connect the two halves, but couldn’t.

“Ha,” I scoffed. “I’m amazed you’re even able to stand at all right now.”

But the many worm-like pieces of each half did move, and the ends to the left half sprouted many tendrils and appendages as it filled itself out until the left half was one whole fake-ass Rhea. Then, with the newly formed right hand, they grabbed hold of their former right half with their new right arm and reshaped it into what looked to be a large, one-sided ax or butcher knife, but made up of veins and muscle tissue.

“No fair!” I whined. Of course, that should have been expected. An opponent who could reshape itself after being destroyed several times over wasn’t meant to be a “fair” sport, now were they?

I composed myself. I had to, as they charged on once more, no longer that sinister smile, and just an indignant scowl. As they approached, they swung forth and I dodged to the side, then swung my spear down and chopped off their left arm. No cry of pain this time, no indication that it held any meaning to them at all, and it fell to the floor, only to regrow. But by then, I swerved to the back and shoved the spear right into their chest, then swung upward.

Again, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Regrowth without a second thought.

Guess the same trick won’t work twice.

In fact, they turned and swung their large fleshy ax right at my face. I stepped back, held the spear in front of me for protection, but watched as the ax split it with ease and little shards of my spear from the tip flew at me and made little cuts across my cheeks.

Well, great. There goes my secret weapon.

Things weren’t looking so cool after all. Odd, too, how it worked so well back in the alleyway even without an angel’s essence. I just had to get to their heart and that was that. Not the case with the one in front of me, was it? It was like I had to go for total annihilation, no trace remaining, and I just didn’t know if I had the firepower for that.

Maybe if I set this basement on fire, but I’m not about to risk the lives of the people above. Say what you will about my cold heart, but even my old self didn’t believe in collateral damage.

I stepped back and wiped the blood off my cheeks.

“Ha. You’ve been disarmed. Your little makeshift weapon broke. You’ve been made into a bloody mess. You’re at the end of your rope,” they recited as if they were some sort of judge reading off my list of crimes.

“Are you kidding? I’m just warming up,” I snickered, and I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, I was more desperate than I had been before, but if nothing else, this was fun.

“You have nothing!” They roared, but I shook my head and ran toward them anyway. My move prompted them to swing their fleshy weapon, but I ducked down and swung my fist into their false face. Their free hand caught it, then dug their talon-like fingers into my fist and I bit my lip just to avoid yelling out, then I decided that wasn’t very efficient: so, I reached in and bit down on those fingers which held my fist themselves, sunk my teeth in. It tasted less like flesh and more earthen, like dirt or mold.

I spat out as the impostor had little choice but to release their grip and upon doing so I headbutted them. For not even a second, a thought arose that cautioned me not to do so, as there was the chance that my own head would sink into the strange wormy mass that made up their head. But that thought didn’t matter to me in the slightest, and it didn’t seem to matter much to them either as they reeled back and winced in pain.

“You’re desperate,” they groaned.

“I’m alive!” I declared. It was the rush I always craved in battle. That moment which seldom lasted long, but always brought with it a taste of what I should have felt more often.

But of course you wouldn’t get it. Even if you were her, you wouldn’t have, would you? That thought brought with it a tinge of sadness I didn’t think I ought to have felt.

Their claws swung forth faster than I could have reacted. For all my boast, for all the thrill that came with such a struggle, I had no defense this time and I felt the extent of each sharp finger dig into the side of my face.

Along my cheeks came three or four deep cuts and my eyelids slammed tight, barring any entry. When I struggled to open my eyes, all I saw around me were various hues and blurs, the notion of colors I couldn’t quite put names to as even my thoughts turned to fuzzy static. Wetness filled the bloody side of my face which reminded me of ants running down a sugarcane, or if I wanted a more normal comparison, icicles melting into clear water down a windowpane.

Clear...no, murky…

My thoughts would not cooperate. Analogies did me little good and as I staggered back, I felt a tug at the collar of my sailor uniform. Damn, I should have taken off the blasted thing a while ago. It was too bulky for its own good.

I blinked a few times, my senses regaining. Blurs of colors took concrete shape once more. However, I felt the vibration of numbness surround myself as I peered down to see the enemy lift me up above them.

“I bet you think you did the right thing,” the creature, impostor, animated corpse, whatever they were, declared, “letting the others run off while you held me off. You don’t get that they too will meet their deaths in time.”

You underestimate them…

“The old you wouldn’t have cared. You would have been more concerned over yourself. But now I take it that you expected the possibility of not making it out alive. That it didn’t matter, as long as they survived. How commendable. You’ve gained emotions. You’ve grown to care about them. But it’s made you weak and naive. After I’ve finished you off, they will be next, and all your efforts will mean nothing. It shouldn’t take me long at all to get to them and tear them apart.”

Are you done? I know I can’t really do anything right now, but you’re really annoying. If I’m really finished, couldn’t you at least grant me the courtesy of shutting the fuck up?

I glanced over and noticed them ready their little whatever weapon.

Ugh. This is so cringe. I bet the other me at least went out in a cooler fashion than this.

“Hey grossface!” Yelled a shrill, mouse-like voice in the distance. Some sort of voice which might have been cacophonous in a certain context, but for me it brought a certain sense of joy. It was a familiarity that said, “yes, this is a comfort voice.”

However, “grossface”? Really? That was the best insult?

With my mind preoccupied, I was a little startled when I saw a knife flung into the side of my impostor’s face. They must have also been unprepared, as they didn’t manage to react in time and in their effort to block or deflect it, they ended up dropping me back to the floor.

I collapsed at first, but found my footing and stood back up. My first course of action was to turn and yell at Demetria, who stood near the entrance to the tunnels.

“What are you doing back here?! I thought I told you to go on ahead!” I chewed her out (not literally. Look, I knew some figures of speech).

“And I would, had I not been aware that you would pull such a reckless move,” she replied with a scowl and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was like she was scolding me right back.

For all my disappointment that one of the others returned, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of joy from seeing her once again.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I touched the side of my face once more. I thought for a moment that I had blushed, but nope, it was just blood.

When’s it gonna dry already? This is so lame.

Demetria’s knife flew out from the side of the enemies’ face that it had been wedged in and returned to its owner. That’s when I had a sort of idea. With a few hops backwards and my head continuing to spin, I made some distance between the false Rhea and I and Demetria ran over to me as well, allowing us to meet halfway.

“Are you so weak that you’re having to rely on the help of another to bail you out? Just a moment ago you were frail and in peril. What happened to being strong? Independent? Do any of those things mean anything to you?” My false reflection taunted, or demanded answers from me. I couldn’t tell which. Whether it was a playful sneer or a harsh bout of confusion. For my own sake, I preferred to think it was the latter.

“What you fail to understand is that I was never given an option,” I replied in earnest, “no one ever asked me if being strong was something that I wanted, and if given the choice, I would rather be weak and feel than cold and lifeless.”

Although I am still very much cold, and maybe that would always be a part of me. Still, there’s more to me now.

“That’s something you would get if you were really her,” I added, “it’s never been about strength, but about finding some sense of warmth, whether it be physical or something else. How even though it may not have been possible, even futile, the search continued until the very end. Even now, I’m looking for it. If you don’t understand that, then you lack a fundamental understanding of who Rhea is. Who I am.”

“Such drivel. None of what you said will matter when you’ve reached your end. It doesn’t matter if you have another supporting you, you’re still at the end of your rope,” that vessel growled.

“Is this what you’ve been dealing with?” Demetria turned to me and asked.

“Pretty much,” my voice weary, I replied. As bad of a shape as I was in, I felt rather good about my odds. Not to mention that I was sure I’ve been in worse shape before. “Anyway, I’ve got an idea. Are you up for a distraction?”

“I’m up for anything that will put an end to this,” she answered.

Oooookay, a simple yes would have sufficed. But I’d take it.

“You take the left. I’ll take the right. Let’s keep them occupied,” I instructed. She nodded along, then the two of us ran at our respective ends.

“That won’t work,” Not Rhea warned, on on cue I watched as they shot out multitudes of writhing tentacles in both of our directions.

In response, I slipped out of the sailor’s uniform and tossed it in front of me, then bolted, only looking back to see it be torn up and in tatters.

Good riddance. Thing didn’t even keep me warm, anyway.

With a small window of time available, I rolled out from behind the keg barrels and reached for my rifle, then darted to the other end where Demetria was situated.

“So, what’s the plan now?” She turned beside me and asked.

“I need to grab that spear,” I answered, “it should still have a small fragment of the angel’s essence. Even something so tiny should be enough.”

“What? All your other shots haven’t been enough, have they?” She argued, and really? She just had to bring that up? When I was so sure I had some semblance of victory?

“I’m not going to say this time will be different, but a plan is a plan.”

“Redundant, but I get your point,” she commented, then nodded as she took off. She tossed one of her knives to the fake-ass Rhea, but they caught it between their fingers (or whatever they were).

“Nice. Try,” the creature uttered and from their mouth shot forth many appendages, ever increasing in size, and all headed Demetria’s way. However, she just stood, as if every last one of them meant nothing to her, and just as they were about to hit her, she raised her arm out and a translucent barrier erected.

A miniature bounded field? But how did she get such a thing?

I thought that I could run out while they were focused on Demetria, but of course, that was wishful thinking as more appendages sprouted from their arm and soared in my direction. I fired my rifle in the center of the creature’s palm and slid down to the floor to grab the spear. Indeed, its end had been chipped off, but not completely broken.

Good. Now just like back in that alleyway. Only this time, it will be much more explosive.

“Out of the way, Demetria!” I shouted and just in time for the impostor to turn around, but it was too late: I took the spear and shoved it right into their chest, where their heart would have been, had they one.

“All that effort, just for something so useless?” They looked down and reacted with incredulity.

“Who said I was done?” I sneered, then split my rifle in two, back into the pistols. I then explained, “here’s the thing: yes, my rifle uses ammunition, but my pistols? Pure energy, self-replenishing. Almost like what you’ve been doing with your body. They don’t do much damage on their own, but they still pack their own kind of punch.”

“So what? You’ve already shot at me with those and I just regenerated. How will this time be different?”

My smile widened and I aimed at the end of the spear which stuck out from the creature’s humanoid form. Maybe at one point the thing in front of me was human, was even who they claimed to be, but that time had long past.

I took aim and the resulting blast surged through the metal rod and created a charcoal-like cloud of smoke. As the smoke began to clear, I lifted my leg up and rammed the heel of my boot right into the end of the spear.

That impostor, that endless sea of thorns in my side, had fallen, a great collapse roared as the floor we all occupied shook for a full second.

I knew it wasn’t over. That mocking voice said as much:

“Great show, but I’m still here. I can still regenerate.”

Yes. Great show indeed. Before me lay a crude display as the spear was planted firm within their chest and the blast had taken out both of their arms. Little bits of static jumped around their disgraceful body and I saw as they winced. That wince soon turned to a frozen struggle of anguish.

“Why? Why aren’t they coming back?” They grimaced, groaned, and soon their voice grew to a panic. “Come on!”

I shook my head and approached them.

“You wore her face, you used her name, but you didn’t know anything about her. How she should act. What her name means,” I began. “you know, I used to be ashamed of that name, because of the knowledge of who else had it. Yes, I was a groundhog, afraid of my own shadow. I would criticize myself, and when I would, it would be her name and face doing the criticizing. It was like I had to live up to some standard that didn’t even exist because she didn’t know me and acted in accordance to who she was. I knew that’s how I should have been as well, but I couldn’t help but think that I wasn’t worthy of that name, that it meant something important, and indeed, it did.”

“Ugh. I’ll bite. Humor me. What does it mean?”

“It’s a pun. Reflection. That’s all it is. It means little unless you state the full name, as anyone could have that name. Even then, even if you state that full name, guess what? It wouldn’t be the only name. If you were her, you would know that. Because Rhea Flection isn’t just Rhea Flection. She’s also Clara Waters, Mira Image, Claire Skye, Clair Ritty, Dee Flecked, and many more. I know this because I am Rhea Flection, and I’m not the one that was her, but the one that is me. I’m also Remora, and to top it off, I just came up with a new one: Rhea Fraction.”

“Are you calling yourself that because you’re just a fraction of who you once were?” They asked, an obvious attempt to get under my skin. Really, poor attempt. 2/10.

“No,” I shook my head, “it’s because Rhea is just a fraction of my names.”

“Can we hurry this up?” Demetria demanded with impatience as she tapped her foot.

“I’m almost done,” I dismissed her, “this is important.”

Then, I turned my attention back to the creature:

“I used to think that I never knew you, could never know you, but I do. I understand you because you are also me: you were afraid, afraid that you could never feel anything, that you could never love, let alone be loved. That despite the fact that you wanted friends, wanted people in your life, you just felt that you couldn’t have that because such a thing and yourself were incompatible. You felt alienated from the very concept of connection. So day after day, you would do your job without purpose until eventually you found others that you wished you could share a connection with, and upon realization, you ran.”

“You don’t have to do the whole speech, you know,” Demetria informed me, “that’s not really her.”

“I know. But for my own sake, I need to say it: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I never saw you as your own person. I’m sorry that you didn’t think you could have those things. That you saw no other way but to go out the same way you’ve always lived. I want to tell you that it’s possible, that you could have had those things, however difficult, but I can’t. I think you would have loved meeting all these people, finding out that you could have friends, have connections. I’m sorry, because I can’t even blame you for thinking such things, because even now, it feels unreal.”

I let out a deep breath.

“And the worst part is? The person I want to say this to isn’t around to hear it.”

I stepped back, then opened fire against the spear lodged in the impostor. By that point, there must have been enough of a shock to create a chain reaction, and if so, then every piece of that creature would feel its effects: complete obliteration.

Another step back, another two shots, and that time, I heard it: their gurgling wails of agony, the sounds of bugs being squashed and a thick, dark cloud of smoke formed. It soon engulfed the one who inhabited that corpse, the one who had caused so much trouble, soon to be gone.

Demetria walked over as I reassembled the rifle, then strapped it to my back. Another deep exhale found its way out from me, a sigh of relief.

“It’s finally done, isn’t it?” She commented, giving the dissipating smoke a quick glance.

“Yeah. Soon they’ll fade into ash until that too floats off and fades away.”

It was that same way with the one who called themselves Buddy Fairweather, much as it was the same with the guy who attacked Ceres and I in the alleyway. My eyes were fixed upon that cloud, that impenetrable smoke. After a few seconds, I saw it: the ashes, dust, whatever it was, rose into the air, then scattered until they too were no more.

“Let’s get goi –” Demetria was about to urge me to head off. After all, the others could have used the help. But something stopped me, kept me frozen in place, and then my eyes felt a stinging sensation in the same moment that my heart pounded away at my chest, begged for release. When I saw it, the reason for such an abject reaction, I shook and shivered, harder than I may have ever done: a pair of legs began to form as the smoke started to clear. Then two hands, arms, followed by a torso of someone wearing a thick, red jacket. Once I saw that face, I had to do everything in my power not to make my jaw drop.

“No…” I muttered.

Demetria turned just as the smoke cleared, and threw her hands up.

“Oh, come on! It’s still not over?” She complained.

“Be...be on your guard,” I advised, and my teeth chattered. I knew it wasn’t the same cold I usually felt: no, it was fear.

Demetria readied herself in a half-crouched stance, switchblade knife in her palm.

“What about you? Why aren’t you doing anything?” She turned and murmured.

“I’m...I’m…” I couldn’t figure out what to say, but everything felt different. There was a heightened sense of tension, despite what should have been a lack of danger. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if we were going to have to fight that impostor again, but I wasn’t sure about anything. There was no spear, no metal rod, lodged in her chest. There were hands, pale hands, and on her face, between her lips, I thought I could see something poking out, but I wasn’t sure of what.

Wait. ‘Her’?

I waited. For something, anything, so I could figure out my next move, so this terrible feeling could leave me.

I glanced over and saw her/their fists begin to twitch, and then her/their face stirred, the eyes left closed.

“Ugh…” Escaped a low and quiet moan and then her/their mouth began to open, just slow enough so that the thing between her/their lips stayed intact.

“Why have I woken up? I was enjoying a nice rest,” came the sprained words, its sound only a little more than a whisper.

“Don’t...don’t let us keep you…” my own voice trembled, a forced reply I did not want to make.

This is wrong. This is so wrong. Thisisowrongthisiswrongthisiswrong.

“Uh…” Demetria looked up at me, confused, maybe a little frightened, herself. I couldn’t even tell, but she asked me, through clenched teeth, “what’s going on?”

“It’s her. I don’t know how, but it is,” I concluded and my hands felt stiff, as if turned to a block of ice.

Our miracle guest lifted up one of her arms and placed it over her stomach, where torn fabric and a large gash with deep, red blood oozed out. She turned her head and her eyes continued to refuse to open.

“What are we supposed to do now? What’s the plan? What do we even make of this?” Demetria asked a barrage of questions, none of which I had the answer for.

“Mm...Juniper? Is that you?” Moaned out her dry voice once more, still only little more than a whisper.

“What?” Demetria groaned, flat.

Juniper...Hmm…

“I still don’t get it,” I rasped, “but she’s still not going to last long. You should be there for her before she goes. Comfort her.”

“What?!” She spat out, but I couldn’t bear it any longer, I bolted, ran for the tunnel.

“Do it. For me. Please,” I urged Demetria, and then, when I was far enough from those two, I collapsed, fell back against a wall in the tunnel. My hands still trembled, everything about me trembled. My heart rate continued to speed up.

If she’s alive...if she lives...then that means…

“No...please...I don’t want to go just yet,” I begged, slumped my head over, and felt dejected.

Was this what everything’s been leading up to? Just a hollow victory before I too disappear?

There were things I could have done. I could have at least tried to go to the others, see them one last time, but I was too scared to move. Too scared to do anything but sit and try to wrap my head around everything.

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - Male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Eight (v. light nsfw)

Friday means it’s dragon shifter romance day!

Last time we learned that Mikaeïl's late partner was also an artist, and that made us feel a bit wobbly and insecure... This time we finish our dinner date with him and make one or two steps forwards...

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

“So you see why I was reluctant to talk to you about him…” Mikaeïl murmured softly after he’d risked a glance up at your face. “I would have told you, I’m sure. My past would have come up sooner or later, but…” he murmured, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “Ah, that’s just the face I didn’t want to see,” he said as he glanced up and caught sight of your stricken expression.

You tried to hide it behind a smile, pretending to brush it off. Whoever this long-lived creature had been, he had clearly been unfathomably dear to Mikaeïl. How could you even begin to compare with that? With a hundred years of love? What could you offer him after all that time in each other’s company? “You’re right,” you said with an overly bright smile. “It’s not first date talk. I’m sorry I pushed it…” you said, fighting the way your throat closed up around the words.

His shoulders relaxed just a little, but he still had his jaw clenched tight as a goblin’s metalwork vice. He swallowed thickly and said, “Alright, but let me just say that my attraction to you isn’t some vain attempt to rekindle something that was lost a long time ago. You are an artist, and so was he, but there the similarity ends.” The light that glowed in his eyes was like a fire burning low, the coals smoldering red after the bright heat of flames had exhausted itself. In truth, he looked suddenly very tired, and every bit his two hundred and sixty odd years old.

While you could still taste that bitterness on your tongue from the self-doubt that had swirled through you like a rip tide and stripped you of your confidence, you tried to be brave. Mikaeïl suddenly looked thoroughly miserable, though he was hiding it behind his usual chilly facade. On impulse, you reached your hand out to his where it now lay quiet as a corpse’s on the wooden tabletop. The chill of his pale fingers always surprised you, but you squeezed his strangely delicate hand and smiled at him.

“Come on,” you said. “We were doing so well. Tell me about how you know the goblin who owns this place… I didn’t catch his name…”

“Kiriavin?” he said, his throat working again as he swallowed and sighed, trying to push his pain aside. A wariness still lingered in the corners of his reptilian eyes, but he clearly appreciated your efforts at moving things along. He chuckled then. “I taught his wife at university, if you can believe it.”

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” you snorted, which made him roll his lovely eyes. “I wondered if you knew him through your music? Lidaë back at Stickybeak’s cafe mentioned that there was a goblin in your group…”

He opened his mouth, but before he had the chance to go on, Kiriavin returned with menus and two glasses of sparkling wine in elegant flutes. “You drink, I presume?” the goblin asked you before setting your glass down on the table, and you nodded. “Very well. This is a sparkling wine made from grapes grown just outside Starfall Springs. And in a moment I’ll bring some nibbles out for you as well,” he added with a sharp, hungry grin that briefly made you wonder exactly what a goblin might consider ‘a nibble’…

“Thank you, friend,” Mikaeïl said and something wordless passed between them in the space of a heartbeat.

Kiriavin nodded once, and then left with a distinctly softer smile.

Attempting the same kind of silent eloquence, you tilted your head curiously at Mikaeïl and he smiled the first true smile since his late partner had been brought up. His lips curled slowly and then drew back to reveal his white teeth, the canines more pronounced than on a human. You wondered fleetingly what else about him might differ, but reined your imagination back in as he spoke, shaking his head slightly. “That sly old goblin knows exactly what just happened between us, and he’s sorry for it. I think we might be expecting even finer wine with the meal…”

“He doesn't have to,” you said guiltily, but Mikaeïl waved his hand.

“Trust me, you can’t make a goblin do anything else once they’ve got their mind set on something. It’s quite literally impossible.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said. “Cheers,” and you held up the delicate flute of sparkling wine.

The expression on his face was a strange one as he regarded you in the candlelight of the restaurant. It reminded you of the way someone looks at a painting in an art gallery that they’ve only seen in books and reproductions before. He stared at you as if trying to fix the lines and shapes of your face in his mind, as though he would sculpt you later from memory. It only lasted perhaps three seconds, but it was so powerful that you nearly didn’t react as he gently chinked his glass against yours. “Cheers,” he said, the word very softly enunciated.

Even the way he drank was elegant and he held you transfixed as he sipped, the very tip of his tongue just sampling the little tide-mark that was left behind on his upper lip after he’d swallowed. When his eyes met yours again, his gaze clouded and he frowned quizzically at you. “What?”

Taking a deep breath, you grinned and said, “Are you honestly telling me that after two and a half hundred years, you have no idea how good looking you are?”

The flush began at his collarbones and crept up his cheeks to his slightly tapered ears, obscuring the golden dusting of very faint freckles on his cheekbones.

“Come on,” you pressed playfully.

He licked his lips. “I… I have been told as much, yes, but… it’s… it’s always embarrassing to me.”

“To be attractive? Mikaeïl, people would pay millions to look like you!”

The red in his cheeks darkened and he took another sip, looking away.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still laughing that somehow you of all people had managed to make a powerful creature like a dragon shifter blush furiously.

The meal was incredible, the wine heady and rich, but perfectly matched to the food. Mikaeïl and you soon moved past your initial awkwardness and settled into an evening of playful banter. As you shared a gorgeous dessert, you asked him about his family, and he said that his sister Caerelia was the only family he had left now. “She’s very… protective of me,” he murmured, going pink in the cheeks again. “She’s been asking me a lot about you.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. I told her to mind her own business though. I’m not a hatchling anymore… But she’s never going to change.”

“As long as she’s not… you know…” you shrugged, “Overbearing…”

“Oh, she’s overbearing,” he laughed. “But I know what you mean. She means well, and nearly always backs off if I ask her to.” Inhaling deeply, he leaned back in his seat and said, “I can’t eat any more.”

“Me neither,” you groaned. “That was so good.”

Twenty minutes later, he was walking you along the road towards the taxi stand in the centre of Old Trollbridge. You held his hand and murmured, “Thank you for tonight. I… I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I,” he said, his feet falling still as he turned to look down at you. In a barely-audible whisper, he asked, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Letting go of your hand, he placed his left hand on your hip, drawing you close with his right, the fingers of which he placed just below your chin, tilting your face up. His eyes glowed in the dim light, and your heart rate soared as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek before cupping the back of your head and coaxing you further into the gesture. His lips touched yours in the briefest ghost of a kiss before he returned and began to kiss you more confidently, as though he now believed that you did want this after all.

You let him set the pace of the kiss, his grip tightening suddenly on your hip, but after what felt like only a moment or two, he drew back, his breathing a little ragged.

“Mikaeïl?”

His eyes really were glowing golden, and he ground his jaw again, stepping back and closing his eyes before laughing. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I got a little carried away there…”

It hadn’t been that fervent a kiss… “I didn’t think you did - oh,” you breathed as he raised his lip up on one side in a little playful snarl and showed you that his canine was significantly longer than it had been, almost like a vampire’s. A deep, low-frequency rumble rolled off him too before he turned it into a laugh.

“You do remember that it’s been a while for me…”

“Yeah, but, oh… When you said you hadn’t been with anyone in that time, you meant… at all…?”

The blush was back in his cheeks and he shook his head, his red hair dancing in the lamp light. “It… I didn’t… It wasn’t something that I…” He took a sharp, shaky inhale and smiled awkwardly. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” you said gently, pressing your palm to his cheek and watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned gratefully into the touch like an affectionate cat.

“Thank you…” he said without opening his eyes. “Come, let me take you home.”

You ached all over to stay with him that night, but you sensed he needed more time, to move at a slower pace, and it was probably for the best anyway. With a nod, you and he continued to walk side by side down the cobbled street, and in another grateful gesture, he briefly squeezed your fingers in his without looking at you.

Part Nine

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[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 90

The more chapters I post, the weirder that number feels. I swear.

“Have a good night, Grandma Kim,” I smiled from the door and waved as she and Lyric made their way into the stream of foot traffic in the corridor.  Conor had just come home from work, so I had the obligatory two people to keep any eye on me for the night.  Turned out that my mandatory escorts were not only for travelling to and from anywhere - and locking the door to my quarters wasn’t considered enough, either, since “Too many people have permission to just walk in,” as Xiomara pointed out.

When I turned around, both men were already seated at the table, a small and tidy dinner of roast, boiled potatoes, and salad waiting. “No GK?” Conor frowned, pointing at a fourth place setting.

“She said she had to get to another appointment,” I explained.  With a groan, he reached down.  To my surprise, he picked a fifth place setting off the floor.  “Wait, you set a plate for Lyric? You don’t even do that for Mac!”

 Jokingly, he shook a finger at me. “That cat’s a damned menace,” he grumbled. “Besides, we all know Mac eats from whatever and whoever’s plate he wants. He doesn’t need his own.”

 Maverick just smiled at his back as the taller man put the plates and silverware away. “Says the person who always saves an entire serving of everything for the ‘damned menace,’ as you put it.”

“He likes my plate better.” With a wink and playful grin, he sat down and started slicing the roast.

Smiling lightly, Maverick brushed his hair out of his face and turned to me. “Stuff better between you and Tyche?” 

Stabbing a potato, I shrugged before wobbling my hand a bit. “Kind of?  We’re still working through a game of Twenty Thousand Questions, but we aren’t mad at each other anymore.  So there’s that.” 

“You’ve been in a noticeably better mood, at least.”

I scowled as he set some salad on my plate. “I haven’t had five minutes to myself since the incident with Charly.  That’s going to make anyone cranky.”

“You didn’t help when you put that bloke flat on his back, love,” Conor chided gently. “One slice or two?”

Eyeballing how thick he cut them, I thought for a second. “One, for right now? With gravy?”

“What heathen doesn’t put gravy on roast?” was the scoffed answer.

Maverick’s head snapped up, half a slice of meat hanging out of his mouth. “Ee guy ah even eh own eye ussoom gayey.”

“Babe, please cut the rest of that up before you choke…” I begged, looking away.  The military had done horrible things to his table manners, but at least he kept them isolated to ‘private’ meals.  “On the topic of Tyche, we fence twice a week while Arthur scowls at us or Coffee pretends to ignore us and read a book. I ask her questions, and she whallops me when I guess wrong.” 

“And why is your sainted best friend scowling at you?” Conor stabbed half a potato and shoved it in his mouth, staring at my skeptically.

I stabbed my own potato before cutting it carefully in half. “He may prefer saber.”

“Ehrr oaf.”

“Maverick,” I sighed without looking over. “I am begging you…” A snort of laughter forced me to surrender and turn towards him. “You shit.”

He was sticking his tongue out at me, mouth clearly empty. After I stared long enough, he lost his composure and started laughing, squeezing my upper arm with one hand. “I’m sorry, Sophia.  I’ll stop, I swear.”  Briefly managing a serious face, he ran a hand down and then across his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“King’s X,” Conor corrected.

All I could do is roll my eyes. “It’s the same thing…”

“Still tense, huh?”

“A little,” I admitted softly.  I usually would be laughing and joking with them - who could you be gross and ridiculous around, if not your loved ones? - but I just couldn’t right then. “I think being watched all the time is making me feel watched all the time.  Like I always have to have my public face on.”

Conor hummed, rubbing the arm facing him. “Maybe we can think of something to let you have a bit of time to yourself.”

“We could have the sensors monitor you, have one of Miys specifically keeping a watch on that?”

I shook my head. “That’s literally how I met you, remember? Someone destroyed the navigation sensors, and hacked the monitoring ones in order to destroy the replacement parts.  Xiomara will never agree.”

“Damn it,” Maverick swore softly. “We can at least leave the room?”

Dropping my fork, I threw my hands in the air. “And go where? It’s not like you can leave our quarters.”

“She’s right.  And we can’t even go in the bedroom and leave her out here… If we aren’t in the same room with her, we have to be in one closer to the exit.” Conor pointed over his shoulder with a fork before using it to dig into his salad. “Meaning she can be in the bathroom or bedroom alone.”

“At which point I may as well be a prisoner.”   My frustration was vented against my slice of roast, and I absolutely did not cut it more aggressively than strictly necessary.

With a wince, Maverick slowly lowered his hands from where they had been covering his ears. His eyes darted to the knife that was now laying beside my plate, clearly trying to figure out how to take it away from me. “More potatoes?”

Clearly discretion was the better part of valor in his case.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, prodding the lumps of formerly-roast on my plate.

“We’re going to get through this, Sophie, I promise.”  Conor stood, but rather than trying to approach me, he stepped into the kitchen.  When he returned, he had a plate of soft rolls.  Tearing one in half, he started scooping the massacred remains of my dinner onto it before handing it to me. “There. All better.”

I gave him a watery smile as he set it on my plate.  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a grumpy bitch lately,” I whispered.  Glancing up, I could see them exchanging puzzled looks.  “Oh come on, don’t pretend I’ve been an angel. Just last week, you two left me and Tyche here, with strict orders to sort our shit out.”

“If you didn’t get grouchy when things are out of your control, you wouldn’t be Sophia,” Maverick pointed out generously.  “Besides, it’s not like you threw anything.”

“Or broke shit.”

“I still owe you both an apology,” I argued. “Just because I’m out of my comfort zone, that doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to snap and snarl at you two.”

Conor snapped his fingers several times. “Dinner.  At the Undine. You, your sister, Charly… Maybe don’t get drunk this time, but a night out, yeah?  People who would be there anyway, just like we’re usually the ones with you at night. Whatcha say?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think Xio is going to approve that. Both of us in one place, for starters. Plus somewhere that crowded?  Security would be a nightmare.”

“What about camping? Charly keeps mentioning at work that she’s dying to go camping.”

This time, it was Maverick’s turn to be confused. “Where?” he gestured around us. “We’re on a space ship.  Where can we go camping?”

“BioLab2,” came the answer. “It goes into night mode from mid Beta-shift to the start of Alpha. That’s fifteen hours of night time.  We’d have to get special permission, since folks aren’t usually allowed in there at ‘night’, but given the circumstances, I think Grey could be convinced to try it out.  See how the nocturnal species in the lab react to their schedule being interrupted.”

“You seriously want me to go camping?” I asked skeptically.

“Hey, I love to go camping!” He looked comically offended.  Glancing at Maverick, he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Never been, but I can give it a shot,” was the mild reply.  In the bottom of my field of vision, a hand snaked over and snagged the sort-of stuffed bun from my plate.  I didn’t even stop him, just waited for the inevitable.  Sure enough, less than a minute later, he started sputtering. “Oh, that is disgusting!”

Conor tsked at him, shaking his head. “Love, you saw me put her poor roast on the bap. You knew it had gravy on it.”

“But you put the mushrooms on the bread, too!?”

“I did it for the lady, who likes mushroom gravy.”  Heaving a sigh, he stood up, went back into the kitchen, and returned with a small carafe of something. Prying apart another roll, he gently tucked a slice of roast inside, before pouring the contents of the carafe - plain, brown gravy, as it turned out - both beneath and on top of the meat. “You have to have something or it’s too dry,” he explained, handing it to Maverick, who surrendered mine back into my own custody.

I took a bite of mine, and gave a little hum of delight. It reminded me of being in school and stuffing mashed potatoes with gravy and thin sliced mystery meat into a yeast roll to make the meat edible, only much better.  Gesturing to Maverick’s own sandwich emphatically, I waited.

Unlike his enthusiasm for stolen food, he stared his own bun down suspiciously before taking a very ginger bite.  Chewing carefully for a moment, he furrowed his face in thought before finally making a similarly happy noise and taking a larger bite.  Covering his mouth with one hand, he gave his verdict. “Dis iss guh!”

Conor and I both rolled our eyes, landing on each other’s face. “You’d think the boy never had chipped beef on toast. Or a French dip sammy,” Conor scoffed as he made his own.

It took everything I had not to dissolve into laughter as I watched my beautiful roast dinner be turned into schoolyard sandwiches.  But sometimes, that’s what you need, I reminded myself as I took another bite. Kids have the right idea.

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[officialleehadan]

Bone Bars

Hello darlings! I hope you're having a good week so far. I certainly am! If you haven't noticed, the very first chapter of black Lenz posted today! Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride!

Today's story was brought to you by Larry! Thank you so much for all your support! It means the world to me!

Prompt: HGE - Mismatched

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Magic, thick as paint, streamed over Xaenxa’s skin. White, crackling into metallic black lightning that raced along the blood-soaked chains. Wherever her lightning touched, the chains washed out and splintered, turning from metal to sun-bleached bone.

Brandon swore and pulled his gun even as the necromancers turned upwards. He was too far to hear their words, but the sight of red-black magic on their hands was warning enough. He opened fire even as he and Thori circled the upper story. There were stairs on the far side of the room. 

Xaenxa, of course, had no such concerns.

Three men died before she hit the ground below the cage, which was already starting to fall, no longer supported by chains that were cracking apart under Xaenxa’s potent magic. As she rolled to her feet, hands wet to the elbow with her magic, the blood around her rose as well, coating the bones that surrounded the alter. 

The skeletons, one by one, began to Rise. Metallic black magic wrapped around them and left them in armor, split down the middle, white on one side, and black on the other. 

“Oh they are very, very screwed,” Thori muttered to Brandon as they ran down the stairs, stopping only when acolytes tried to get between them and the growing massacre at the altar. “You see the cage? Thought I heard it fall.”

The compound shuddered.

Xaenxa screamed.

So did a lot of necromancers.

Brandon seriously doubted she needed their help.

“It did,” he replied, and didn’t break his run as another acolyte, and how many acolytes were there, anyway? He and Thori already killed a dozen or more, and they just kept coming. “Five-o-clock from the alter.”

“Glad you were paying attention.”

“You had like, four guys to worry about at the time.”

“Valid.”

By the time they made it to the bottom floor and the alter, Rhys was Burning again, but Xaenxa’s skeleton warriors were ripping the alter apart to build a barricade. Xaenxa herself was at the cage, magic creeping through the bars. Like the chains, the bars slowly turned from metal to bone, and she staggered. Brandon risked the very decent chance of being stabbed to steady her. To his surprise, she let him keep her upright, and even slipped her goddess-blade back into the sheath on her thigh. 

“Thori,” she said tiredly, leaning on Brandon more heavily than she probably wanted him to realize. Spending so much magic all at once had a cost “The bars.”

“On it,” Thori promised, and raised his axe meaningfully. “Will they break?”

“Yes.”

Without another word, the half-dwarf put all his considerable strength behind a powerful overhand swing that brought his axe down on the bars like a thunderbolt. They cracked under his blow, and he hit them twice more before slinging his axe over his back as he wrenched the spikes away from Rhys. Brandon made sure Xaenxa was steady on her feet, and went to help. By the time he got there, Rhys had managed to take a human body again, and lay in the wreckage of the cage, gasping for breath. Brandon and Thori knelt and got his arms over their shoulders and he still staggered when they got him standing. 

“Krovavaya Luna,” he whispered when his eyes landed on Xaenxa. She made a small, angry noise, and Brandon was just fast enough to get out of her way as she flung herself at Rhys. He freed an arm to catch her and held her close. They would have toppled over into the wreckage of the cage, but Thori managed to brace them both, and rolled his eyes at Brandon. “You shouldn’t have come for me. It’s a trap.”

“We figured,” Brandon promised him. Xaenxa showed no sign of letting go of Rhys any time soon, so Brandon pulled his gun again and moved to the front of their group. “We didn’t come in the front door.”

“You know how we operate,” Thori agreed, cheerful despite their ghoulish surroundings now that they had retrieved their teammate. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of this nightmare before Blaec gets antsy.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Rhys managed a weary, pained smile. He wasn’t injured, but Burning over and over had taken a toll. Between Xaenxa and Thori, he was walking, and that would be enough to get him back to camp. “There’s a phylactery under the alter. They were siphoning my death-energy for the Horde.”

“It’s shielded,” Xaenxa told him as they made their way up the stairs. She snapped a word in Elvish, and her skeletons stayed behind, armed form the fallen acolytes and waiting for whoever came through the door next. “They’ll buy us time. I couldn’t get to it. Not in the time we have.”

“We’ll tell Blaec when we get out,” Brandon promised. He held the door for them, and heard the one down by the alter crash inward. Someone had noticed their presence and taken exception to the locked door. Screams filtered upwards, and Brandon ignored them. The necromancers were, for the time being, not his problem. Their only goal right now was to get Rhys and make it back to camp. “This way.”

There were some benefits to having murdered their way into the compound, and then made a substantial fuss at the alter. Everyone left in the compound, and it sounded like a significant battle where the necromancers met Xaenxa’s Goddess-Raised warriors, was thoroughly distracted for the time being. Brandon carefully ignored the bodies they left behind on their way in, and kept his gun at the ready in case they were discovered.

For once, their luck stayed good.

By the time they made it to the darkened forest, Rhys was steady on his feet, and Xaenxa’s smile was back. 

“Last trick,” she said when they reached the wards. She reluctantly pulled away from Rhys, and pressed her hands to the ward, her Goddess’s power lighting up under her hand as it soaked into the ward like ink through clear water. “Let’s make sure they remember what happens when they step on the wrong toes.”

With that, she plunged her goddess-blade into the ward, and magic boomed through the air, howling thunder that nearly flattened their whole party. 

When Brandon looked again, the ward was gone, and their way into the forest was clear.

+++

HGE - Mismatched

What do you get when you put a dragon, his mermaid, a dark elf, a half-dwarf, and a firebird into a zombie apocalypse?

A very frustrated human, who really isn’t sure how he ended up in this situation to begin with.

Too Fast to See

Hot Desert Night (Free on Patreon!)

Dial Emergency

Death Valley Sand

The Regency

Red Scales and Golden Hair

En Route

Silver-White Knife

A Question of Faith

Coven Court

Aftermath

Under Stone

New Arrivals

Battle Lines Drawn

Deep Defense

Pineapple Box

Oncoming Tide (Subscriber Only!)

Nothing Special

Fiery Negotiation

Pearls and Claws

Fire Brought Low (Subscriber Only!)

Long Distance Call (Subscriber Only!)

Cruelty’s Kindness

Switchblade Ward (Free on Patreon)

Flying Leap (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

[legacyofabsolutewalnuts]

(Don’t) Move

I haven’t really been following through on the heavy whump I would usually with these prompts, but they have provided my plenty of inspiration. So have a brief look into how Viticalia and Thomsyn first met on Quesh, mid Sith Warrior stoyline. Meant to go with prompt 11. (Don’t) Move

“Don’t move.”

The snarl that ripped out of Viticalia’s throat echoed across the cavern, muted only by the bodies at her feet. She didn’t bother looking, her own senses bouncing off the precious beacon of light standing between her and the exit. More than likely yet another one of Baras’ pawns, he certainly had enough of them scattered through the Republic, and she could think of a hundred better uses for them than what  Baras had achieved. Most of them have been wasted in their time only observing, when action could have changed the face of the war a hundred times over before the first treaty.

Vette, wisely, moved into a position where Viticalia’s blades could protect her. They’d worked together long enough now that she didn’t need to ask. The younger woman looked a bit worse for wear, they hadn’t been close enough together when the cave collapsed for Viticalia to get as solid of a barrier in place as she would have liked. She had done her best to protect Vette, which had left only her own force of will to keep her from being crushed by the debris. It had worked, if only barely, but breathing in more dust than air, and accepting the punishment of the rocks had left her body weaker than she was willing to accept.

“Get out of my way, Jedi, and you can leave here with your life.”

“If I were a betting woman, I would gladly bet against that. You don’t have the strength left.” The Jedi’s voice was more than amused and Viticalia palmed her blades as she turned to face the Jedi. She had not yet drawn her weapons, arms crossed over her chest and simply watching. She had that frustrating sense of calm, vague interest that most Jedi were capable of. Nearly emotionless. Grating.

She ignited one lightsaber as a threat, and the Jedi didn’t move. “This is your last warning, Jedi.”

“I’m willing to let you and your slave live, Sith.”

A common misconception, and one she didn’t have the energy to correct at the moment. “What do you want, Jedi?”

“I want  to know why you’re here. And what all of this is about.”

“That’s-”

“None of my business and Imperial secrets, yes, I’m aware. I can take you prisoner and ask you these questions later, if you like?”

The Jedi had  already read the hesitation in her long before it showed on Viticalia’s  brow and she growled lowly. “Let Vette- let the Twi’lek go, and I’ll answer your questions.”

“That would allow her to call for reinforcements for you.”

“Scared?”

“No.” Something glinted in the Jedi’s eye. An edge, something less than serene, and Viticalia focused on it, searching. “She may go.”

“Vits-”

“Vette, go, now. Back to the Fury, directly. Do not speak to anyone else till you get there, do you understand?”

She was opening her mouth to protest and Viticalia allowed herself to take her eyes off the Jedi for a moment. “No one else, Vette. Go.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You’re not. The Jedi’s here.” She managed a twitch of a smile and Vette relaxed a little. It was enough of an admission that she’d survived worse, and would come back alive. “Off you go.”

She gave the Jedi a wide berth as she passed, and the Jedi responded in kind, allowing Vette to get to the entrance without incident. Viticalia tested the weight of her blades in her hands, igniting them both. “Stand down, Sith.”

“No.” She drew herself up, drew on her relief and power and let it settle clearly for the Jedi. “I am not so weak as you imagine.”

“I am well aware. There’s no need to fight. You negotiated on behalf of your...friend, it would seem. Clearly you’re the rare example of a reasonable Sith. We can negotiate.” The Jedi dropped her arms, taking a few paces forward so that Viticalia could see her a little better in the glow of her lightsabers. She was a tall, broad shouldered Cathar, thick hair drawn back and armour paired with the robes of a Jedi Master, modified for ease of movement. 

“I have no intention of betraying my people.”

“They seem to be willing to betray you.” The Jedi’s voice softened. “I felt the tremors when the cave collapsed, and I can feel the betrayal rolling off you. If one of my people had done it, I would have known.”

She snarled out of habit, to back up weakness with ferocity and the Jedi did not flinch. Of course. 

“You think I’ve come here to seize the opportunity, or because whoever betrayed you asked me to.” The Jedi’s head tilted curiously and Viticalia held her stare, gathering the Force into herself, preparing. “I can and will match you in battle, Sith, and right now you’re wounded. You're smart enough to send your ally to get others you trust, I think you're smart enough to avoid a fight right now.”

“You speak as though you understand my motivations. Assessing them from the few of my actions you’ve seen is foolhardy.” She deactivated the blades and set the hilts on her belt slowly. “But I have more important people to kill than a single Jedi.”

The Jedi took something from her pack, backlit by the entrance to the cave before an emergency lamp was lowered. “Good. Now. Which one of your Masters is making a play within the Empire by trying to off you here?”

“You think I’ll happily reveal any weaknesses the Empire may have?”

“You seem to realize the Empire has weaknesses, as everyone does, which puts your intelligence leagues above many I’ve met.” The Jedi set the rest of her pack down on the floor. “You may call me Thomsyn, by the way.”

Thomsyn was as pretty as she is powerful, and practical. “Viticalia, of house Volcatius.”

Thomsyn blinked once, even as Viticalia lifted her chin to state her family name with pride. “Lord Dapatica’s younger sister then. I’ve heard reports about you.”

“I suspect you have.”

“You left Balmorra a mess. And your sister is no less impressive.”

The word choice was telling. Viticalia shifted her stance, embracing the pain she’d been ignoring while negotiating, pulling it deeper into herself, letting it fester and drawing on the fire within it. Thomsyn looked at her for a long moment, big green eyes boring into her and tilted her head a little again. “You’re hurt worse than you appear.”

Her upper lip raised in a half-hearted snarl, but her own exhaustion and weakness, combined with the Jedi’s overwhelming sense of calm was beginning to get to her. “I am fine.”

Thomsyn took the hilt of her lightsaber, and Viticalia tensed for a long moment before the Jedi casually tossed it toward the entrance of the cave. “Come here, let me look at your wounds.”

“I am not unarmed, Jedi.”

“Nor am I even without my lightsaber, but the gesture counts. You’ve agreed, although you’re being rather obtuse about it, to provide information. Let me offer you something in return.”

“Aside from my life?”

“If you die of your wounds before your allies reach you, then I haven’t upheld my end, have I?” Thomsyn rolled her shoulders once. “I only bite people I like, promise.”

She dropped both her lightsabers a moment later, stalking over to the Jedi. “I can, and will, kill you with my bare hands, Jedi.”

“I told you to call me Thomsyn.” She sat, and Viticalia followed hackles up, but unable to deny the strange ease and trust radiating off of Thomsyn. Either she overestimated her own abilities, or she truly did have a good bead on Viticalia’s current situation. It seemed very much to be the later, “I assume you don’t want me to touch you?”

“No.” Healing took a great deal from a Force-user. Concentration and power. It would leave them vulnerable in the meantime. She could feel the Jedi focusing her power, and the rush of Light over her stung like wounds being cleaned. She swallowed once and then allowed herself to speak. “My Master was Darth Baras.”

“Ah. Thank you. You may answer my questions at your leisure. Now, please, don’t move.” 

[thewritewolf]

Two For Two Chapter 18: Close Call

A team of four enemies might be a little too much for our heroes to handle... especially with the elemental powers each of them possess.

@ladynoirjuly2020

Enjoy!

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

“Okay, Hawkmoth is definitely getting some extra power somehow,” Dragonbug said as she did her best to hold off what appeared to be a person made out of fire and a living whirlwind.

It was a frustrating combination - the whirlwind was scattering embers from the fire akuma, leading to a blaze that was slowly spreading across her city. A glance at the scene around her - all fire and smoke and heat haze - was enough to make her grateful once again for her miraculous cure. Soon enough, neither of them would be able to breath in this arena, let alone fight in it.

“Four akumas seems like an awful lot,” Snake Noir replied as he tried to stay ahead of two more enemies. “Do you think he’s been doing his homework? Or did he just find a new magic crystal or something in his cereal box?”

One of his opponents was similar to Stoneheart in that it looked like a person made out of boulders. The main differences were that this one was more the size of a large person rather than a giant, and it lacked a face. The other looked like a rolling tidal wave with a giant human face in the seafoam. As much as she would hope the water would cancel out the fire, it was doing a great job avoiding being helpful, instead constantly striving to slam into her partner.

“Only two of them are akumas,” Dragonbug corrected, using her yoyo shield to block a heat blast and getting a little singed anyway. “I think the earth and air ones are amoks.”

“Great, so Hawkbutt still has help. At least I feel better about this!” Snake Noir slammed his baton full force into the earth amok’s side, sending it flying into one of the burning buildings.

As glad as she was that they’d managed to get all the citizens out of the area before Hawkmoth’s crew arrived, she also recognized a losing fight when she saw one. And seeing the building collapse into a hellish blaze reminded her that they still had options.

“Chat, follow me!”

Latching onto an as-of-yet intact piece of masonry with her yoyo, Dragonbug pulled herself away with the wind roaring in her ears.

Or so she had thought, until she realized it wasn’t the usual wind whipping past her, but the living whirlwind assaulting her. She was being battered all around, her grip on her yoyo slipping as she held on for dear life.

It ended in an instant. There had to be something solid inside the air amok, otherwise Snake Noir’s baton extending into it at max speed would’ve done nothing. With a nod of appreciation at her partner, she pulled on her yoyo and they both got out of there.

A few streets over and they leapt through the windows of an abandoned office building.

“Over here!” Snake Noir grabbed her hand and pulled her into a bathroom. He let go of her and rushed into one of the stalls. She took the one next to his.

“Longg, Tikki! Divide!” Longg’s powers left her and for a moment, Ladybug stood in the bathroom stall. It didn’t last long before she called off that transformation as well. “Tikki, spots off.”

While the kwami looked up at her expectantly, she heard Chat go through the same process, less than a meter away from her.

“Sass, Plagg! Divide. Plagg, claws in.” Whoever it was behind his mask addressed her. “So, my lady. What’s the plan?”

“Well, the red potion for Tikki and Plagg, for sure. I'm not sure what else we should use, though.”

“‘Cause of all the fire, yeah, I figured.” There was a pause. “Wait, does that mean…?”

“Yes.” Marinette looked into her kwamis eyes and saw some surprise, but also steady resolve. “I think it’s time to use two potions at once.”

“Well,” Tikki said with some uncertainty. “You won’t have access to both at the same time, I think.”

“How would we use both then?” The boy who was Chat asked. “Is it wasted?”

“No…” Sass said. There was a hint of worry in his voice, but Marinette couldn’t figure out why. “You’d have to either turn off your primary miraculousss or redo the unification.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Marinette nodded. “Got it, Chat?”

“Y-yeah,” he said. Before she could wonder about his uncharacteristic nervousness, he pushed on. “So, second potion. What are you thinking?”

“Well… ideally we’ll be beating the fire akuma with the red potion.”

“It might be good to take out the water guy at the same time,” Chat added. “That way, we can put out some of the fires.”

“And if I’m right about them being the two akumas-”

“-which you no doubt are, knowing you-”

“-then that means we can focus on the mindless monsters afterwards. So maybe something that gives us some leeway. Flight again?”

“No orange?”

“If its true that Hawkmoth is copying the potions we use, then I’d like to keep that in the bag for now. I think we can manage with the others.”

“Spot on as usual, my lady. Ready to feed the kwamis and suit up?”

A smirk crossed her face. “Always.”

-----------

Snake Noir was working hard to keep the whirlwind and boulder monster at bay for his lady. Teaming up on the fire guy had ended up in disaster, but a quick reset and a change in strategy later and things were going a little better now. Even if he felt the loss of having more allies now more than ever.

Against his better judgement, he snuck a look over his shoulder toward Dragonbug while his opponents were still reeling from one of his attacks. Black covered her hands and feet, with bright flame markings ending the soot-like marks at her wrists and ankles. A scale pattern had replaced her usual suit texture, and gleamed like hot embers. He caught a look of determination as he saw through the blue tinted visor of her new helmet.

Then she swung her sword turned axe, its blunt side sweeping against the water monster and splashing the fire guy with a sizzling hiss. His attention was pulled back to his own fight just in time to dodge a rocky fist.

In comparison, his suit hadn’t changed all that much - instead of his smooth black leather, his suit almost looked like bronze. Tufts of tawny fur edged the cuffs of his gauntlets and boots, and a whole mane of it surrounded his head - a head which was now completely covered in something similar to a motorcycle helmet.

Which was topped with cat ears, naturally. A perfect match to the lion’s tail that had replaced his leather belt tail.

In this fight, the tail was less useful than the ears, which often gave him his only warning about when an attack was coming in. Sure, he didn’t need much help when it came to the rock monster since it telegraphed its attacks in what felt like hours ahead of time. But that wasn’t the one he was worried about.

No, what he had to listen for was the whistling wind that rapidly built to a howling gale as the air amok tried to slam into him. There was never much time to evade since it came so quickly, but the trade off was that it didn’t hit all that hard.

The problem was that the rock monster did pack a punch and being hit by the gale stunned him long enough for the boulder fist to wind up and hit him, something he’d figured out the hard way. Thank all the kwami for Second Chance or this battle might have been over already.

All that to say, this fight was on a razor’s edge but only for him. He was struggling to make any offensive moves, but then again, he didn’t really need to.

“Found you!”

The eager shout from his lady saw him look back just in time to see a splash of water reveal a necklace around the fire guy’s neck, buried in flame. But while she was busy rushing for that, he caught a glimpse of something in the water akuma as it took a moment to recover. Something weirdly shaped located at the core.

On the bare-looking akumas and amoks, odds were that it was the source of their power. He waited and listened, staring intently at the rock monster as he positioned himself just right.

The whistling started just where he thought it would, but even then he waited, tensing all his muscles, until the howling gale were nearly on him then-

He threw himself to the side with as fast as he could, at the very last possible second. The living whirlwind breezed past him to slam into the stone beast, staggering it back a step and stunning the wind as well. The two of them distracted briefly, he whipped around and ran.

As he approached, Dragonbug was making desperate grabs for the now freely dangling necklace, but the fire akuma was keeping just out of reach. The water akuma, trying to support its ally, was too focused on Dragonbug to notice him. At least until his baton was slicing through it. It connected with something solid which shattered satisfyingly.

The water creature began to shrink in on itself as it transformed back into a human. The sight of which must have surprised the fire akuma and uncertainty flickered in its flames. A moment of hesitation, but more than enough to give Dragonbug the upper hand as she lunged forward and yanked the necklace off it. A swift punch shattered it and the fires coating the person extinguished.

Two purifications later and two citizens in The Last Airbender cosplays stood blinking in bewilderment on the battlefield. Trusting Dragonbug to fix things, Snake Noir returned to the remaining amoks who were even now barreling down on them.

“Water Dragon!”

A sudden rain, like a tropical deluge, fell all around them. The fires were extinguished, leaving the area much colder and darker than before.

“Chat, come on! Get the civilians out and swap out!”

After blocking a swing from the rock monster and dodging the whirlwind, he nodded and scooped up one of the civilians. Dragonbug got the other and they escaped the area. The whirlwind seemed to be playing it safe now, since it didn’t chase after them.

The four of them landed on a rooftop, where they dropped off the civilians.

“I’m super sorry about all this,” the woman wearing a Water Tribe cosplay said. “I didn’t think an argument would be enough to cause… that.” She gestured toward the scorched section of the city, now dripping wet.

“Just an argument turned you into such powerful akumas?” Dragonbug’s eyebrows rose.

“Well, it was a pretty heated fight,” the man in a Fire Nation outfit said with a smirk. Snake Noir chuckled appreciatively.

“Any clue where the… control thing for those things are?” Snake Noir tapped his chin in thought. “It’ll probably be something tied to your fight.”

The man and woman glanced at each other, then patted themselves down.

“Uhh… Do you have that wood leaf?”

“The one painted to look slightly burned, like Aang had practiced firebending on it, right?” The woman shook her head. “No, I don’t. Do you have the glowy crystal, like from the cave of two lovers?”

“Nope,” the man replied, popping the ‘p’. He turned to the two heroes. “Looks like you’re after a crystal and a wooden leaf.”

Dragonbug tapped her chin. “I bet the leaf is lightweight, huh?”

“Oh for sure,” the woman said. “It kept getting blown away by the fan.”

“I see…” Dragonbug took out her yoyo and jumped up onto the roof ledge, Snake Noir following her lead. “Thanks for the help, you two!”

Snake Noir waved at them as he jumped off the roof after her. “Stay out of trouble!”

“I’ve got-” Dragonbug stopped when Snake Noir’s bracelet let out a shrill beep. “Take care of that first and meet me at the amoks. Just follow my lead and we should have this one in the bag.”

“I never doubted it for a second.” He gave a quick bow and dashed off.

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

“Perfect timing, Chat,” Dragonbug said as she engaged in an aerial duel with the living whirlwind and nimbly dodging the occasional thrown boulder from the rock monster.

Snake Noir’s emerald green wings carried him into a flanking position, no doubt intending to help her beat up on the wind amok. But she had different plans. It had taken her a while to figure out which piece of floating debris was the leaf in question, but once she saw it she had refused to take her eyes off of it. All she had to do was wait until-

Now!

“Wind dragon!’ A gust of wind, even stronger than her enemy but very short lived, blew straight at the leaf… and right into her partner.

Although he was surprised at the sudden attack, it all clicked for him once the leaf smacked him in the forehead. A quick punch shattered it and the winds finally died down around them.

The purification must have been the final straw for Hawkmoth and Mayura, since they retracted the feather from the rock monster’s amok after a moment of hesitation. The feather slipped from between the monster’s fingers, causing it to drop the crystal the cosplayers had mentioned. Despite its best attempts, the feather didn’t get away either and it too was purified.

“Lucky Charm!” A first place medal landed into her hands and a smirk crossed Dragonbug’s face. She immediately tossed it back into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Dragonbug put her hands on her hips and watched with satisfaction while the city was mended before her very eyes. Snake Noir stepped up to her with a smile and a raised fist.

“May I interest you in a ‘pound it’ for a job well done?”

She pretended to consider it for a moment before nodding and returning the fist bump. “You may.”