#will this finally fill the manner of death-shaped hole in my heart?

[pharawee]

CHAINS OF HEART • ตรวนธรณี • Official Trailer

[an-ambivalent]

Sukuna x Uchiha! Reader

A/N: This is purely for my own self-indulgent purposes -- expanding on this scenario I was daydreaming about. You are invited along to read about my cringefest scenario but only I’m allowed to call it cringe. 

Headcanon synopsis: You are amidst fighting Kabuto with Sasuke and Itachi in the Fourth Great Ninja War when the strangest thing happens. Between struggling to stay conscious from the poison that’s slowly eating you alive to trying to focus on the lengthy explanations of never-heard-before jutsus’ between the two emo brothers, the clash of such jutsus teleports you to another world during another fight. There, the line between enemies and comrades is nonexistent. However, one thing is certain: apparently you wear the same face as of a thousand-years-old demon’s deceased lover. 

For clarification, you are not related to Sasuke and Itachi because that would mean this “reader” insert has fixed looks of black hair and black eyes. You are from the same clan with abilities like the Sharingan and affiliation to fire chakra nature. But fill in your blanks of whatever you want to look like. 

Warnings: This has very minor spoilers about the JJK manga, specifically Sukuna’s abilities. So read at your own risk. It’s just a bunch of OP assholes trying to one up each other ig :P 

                                                          ~***~ 

The rustic smell of blood is present profoundly in the atmosphere. The heavy rain that is suddenly drenching you, and increasing the heaviness and wetness of your clothes and making them stick disgustingly to your grime skin, does nothing to waft away the awful smell. It washes off some of the dried blood from minor cuts and other injuries you had acquired during your fight with Kabuto, triggering your pain receptors in response and causing stinging and burning of pain. But for someone like you who has already been traumatised from the blood shed you have experienced as a ninja, the revolting smell of blood and the burning pain is nothing new. However, the thing that is new is the rain. It had abruptly replaced the mid-day sun that shone horribly bright. During the war, the clear and sunny weather felt like it was nature’s way to laugh at everyone’s face when they were fighting and barely hanging onto their life. The sudden darkness of the night and the open space you find yourself in, instead of the dark cave you were in just mere moments ago, has your shoulders becoming tensed and your blood flow and heart-beat going faster. 

Instantly, your eyes are their notorious deep red colour presented with three black tomes. Your refined shinobi instincts kick in, and you catch the lean and spikey black-haired male that was thrown your way. There is blood trickling down his mouth, and as you held him momentarily, it was easy to deduce that some of his ribcages and other bones were broken, in addition to more serious injuries. Like how milliseconds decisions were required as a shinobi because they determined life or death,  the abrupt situation you were thrown into also required it. You carelessly threw him aside as a half-naked pink-haired teen with black markings on his skin, a hole in his chest and blood dripping down his abdomen charged at you. 

He aimed a vicious and strong punch to your face, which you avoided by side-stepping. When he repeated the gesture with his other arm, you blocked it with your forearm, before twisting your body at an angle, and delivering a strong kick to his stomach and sending him flying away. Using the new created distance to your advantage, you quickly made the necessary hand-signs with practiced ease, before taking a deep breath in. 

“Fire Style: Great Fire Dragon Jutsu,”  You exclaimed, as you exhaled a vicious and high temperature dragon head-shaped flame towards your attacker. 

Sukuna, currently in possession of Itadori’s body, was internally questioning whether the very few hits that Megumi had landed previously had damaged his brain because there was absolutely no way he had seen her face. There was absolutely no way in hell that a mere human would be strong enough to land a painful kick on him. Evidently, the thought that he had seen her face had made him falter in his concentration so it was probably a lucky hit. But the giant dragon fireball that was currently heading towards his way was not going to be a lucky or a pleasant hit, if he did not counter or dodge it. Attacks with fire meant play-time for Sukuna. So, he simply waited until your attack was mere inches away from him, before he easily manipulated the flames and extinguished them. Then, without any current motivation for more fighting, he started to walk towards you. 

Your eyes widened when you saw your jutsu disappear in thin air. Then, when you saw the pink-haired male began walking towards you nonchalantly, your hand automatically went to your back and you unsheathed your sword slightly. Cracks of lightning sparked through it. You stayed grounded on your fighting stance and narrowed your eyes at him, ready to strike should he attack. 

The intense cold expression you wore on your face with her familiar features was so strange to see; and usually, Sukuna enjoyed fighting and taunting seemingly stuck-up people like you. Overpowering such humans before burning them to their demise -- it was such a great way to pass his time. But right now, right now, he was infuriated. He was surprised, and somewhere deep down in his dead demonic heart, was a small sense of longing and hope to regain what used to be. 

His red magenta eyes dug through you in a fierce glare as he stopped just a small distance in front of you. 

“Oi, who are you?” 

The corner of your lips twitched up into a smirk. 

“It’s customary to introduce yourself before asking for someone else’s name. Surely, you have that much manners?” 

Your reply evoked an eyebrow twitch from Sukuna. 

“You’re unnecessarily cocky, aren’t you? If you knew who I was, you would know what was good for you. It’s no wonder it’s so tempting to kill you humans.” He remarked easily, and took a step closer towards you. 

You raised an eyebrow in question. “Me, a human? You’re talking as if you aren’t one.” 

His lips stretched into a wide grin. “Huh, so you can see me and you’re attacking me, seemingly a fellow human without mercy and not actually knowing who I am or what’s going on?” 

It was something about the way he was questioning and taunting you like you were a three-years-old kid that made you glare at him. But, there were no hints of deception or lies in his words. And the nagging feeling you felt churning in the pit of your stomach made you know that something was seriously wrong. 

“So what are you then, a monster? That’s quite subjective though isn’t it; I kill another to protect myself or my loved one, I’m a human in their eyes. The loved ones of the one I killed in order to protect myself, I’m a monster in their eyes. There’s no difference. Although, why I’m suddenly here and not where I am meant to be... maybe only you can answer that. And if you know who I am, you would know what’s good for you. Answer me or you will regret even having the nerve to look in my eyes.” You warned, and just then, the black tomes in your crimson irises started spinning. 

Your cold threats, your body bent in the certain angle it was, ready and just waiting to kill something, and the power radiating off of you -- especially your brilliant blood eyes, it sent unanticipated shivers down Sukuna’s spine. His grin widened until his canine were visible, and just before he could respond, Megumi’s shouts were heard from the distance, interrupting his intense stare off with you. 

“What the hell are you doing?! Get out here civilian before he kills you!” 

Your gaze switched to him and the moment your cold red eyes met Megumi’s eyes, they widened in surprise. Then, finally, the poison that was still in your bloodstream sent sharp waves of pain to your head, causing you to wince and hiss out in pain. This was not missed by the two men around you, especially Sukuna, who was watching you like a hawk. 

He smirked. “Reaching your human limits already?” 

You scoffed. “Hardly. But looks like our chat will need to end here.” You responded easily. Then, with a single hand-sign and your Sharingan tomes spinning more fiercely, you triggered a low-level genjutsu. Both males, who did not know better than to not look into your eyes, were easily swept into it. It was solely for a moment; however, that moment was enough time that when the world around them stopped spinning, there was not even a single clue of you ever being there was even left. 

[necros-writing-stuff]

You were supposed to just be arm candy for the night. Quinn had strong-armed Bailey into bringing a date for the gala she was hosting. He'd staunchly refused, until she reminded him of last year's party. Maybe it was something in the air, but everyone wanted to either dance with Bailey, or sneak off with him. More importantly, everyone was constantly watching him. It was unnerving, given his history. That's where you came in.

While considering his options, he was forced to face the facts. Eden and his spouse were his only friends. Fuck Quinn, she didn't count. Couldn't trust her as far as he could throw her. Which wasn't far. Her fat tits weighed her down. He didn't trust anybody else to be that close to him the whole night, but Eden would never play along, and he'd kill Bailey before he could finish asking for his spouse to go, which was fair. Bailey had been close to both of them growing up and may or may not have nursed a crush. On both of them. At the same time. Regardless, everyone that attended these parties was some kind of scum. They were, however, very good for networking and making contacts. It's how he found Remy in the first place, after all.

Thus Bailey was left with slim pickings. He could hire one of Briar's skanks, but he couldn't trust they weren't a plant. One that would pass information back to his competition. So that was put. He could rent one of Remy's goons for the evening, but they were ill mannered and ill tempered. They'd no doubt cause a scene. He could bring one of his orphans, but again, they'd cause a scene. Not only that, it'd make him look like a massive pervert. No, bringing an orphan is something the previous caretaker would have done. He sees enough of that monster in himself daily; he didn't need any more. His last option, was to borrow Eden's kid. You were the most beautiful, well behaved little shit he'd ever encountered. Smart and resourceful, you didn't have a lot of love for anyone in town.

Getting his friends o agree was the hardest part. Eden hated the idea of his child going into that town, much less being surrounded by the people who made it awful. His spouse, well, they were skeptical he'd keep you safe. He had a lot of enemies and all of them knew it. What if someone went after their baby because you were with him? New survival equipment and cookware helped convince them. Mostly since it was basically him saying Eden could kill him with a shiny, new hatchet. Or his spouse could beat him to death with their new cast iron skillet.

You were excited to go to a party. Your uncle Bailey brought you to the store and let you pick out all kinds of clothes, just not a gown for the gala. He didn't care about your shape or size. You were wearing a long, open back dress with a slit up to your hips. It was made of black satin and had lace delicately sewn as the collar and cold shoulder sleves. It hugged your assets, the skirt flowing with each move you made. He also got you shiny silver and daimond jewelry, and black, heeled shoes with red bottoms. He even took you to get a mani-pedi. You felt so fancy!

When it was time to attend, you did your hair and make up. It was simple, and a little understated. You wanted to focal point to be on the stuff your uncle got you. He seemed happy enough that you were we wearing the outfit just as he told you to. You were thrilled to please him, after all, he was taking you out of the woods and letting you see the town! You got to meet new people! Besides, it was fun letting him dress you up. You honestly felt a little bad, like you were taking advantage of him. You weren't a child anymore, and he didn't need to spoil you like one.

On the drive to the hotel, you nervously picked at the lace on your dress. Bailey had to take a hand off the wheel and grip both of your hands in his to make you stop. It surprised you at first. Had he ever touched you before? It was usually the other way around, when you'd hug him goodbye. His hands were larger than your's. Calloused and scared, not as bad as your father's. His nails were short and well taken care of, like the rest of him. He chastised you. Your dress was expensive. You apologized profusely.

When you got to the event, all eyes were on you. Your arms wrapped around Bailey's as you let him lead you around. You didn't recognize any of the people other than Quinn. You were happy to talk with her when Bailey stopped to chat. She kept giving Bailey this funny look, like she was trying not to laugh, and wiggling her eye brows at him. If it meant anything, Bailey didn't comment on it, or explain it to you. With Quinn, was a handsome man dressed in horse riding clothes. He looked really out of place. Most people were wearing suits or gowns. Bailey didn't let you speak to him, instead sending you to savage the buffet. He didn't need to tell you twice.

While filling your plate with a variety of hordervs, you felt someone staring at you. An instinct honed while living in the woods. Looking around, you saw a darkly dressed boy watching you. He was really small, you wouldn't have guessed he was your age. His hair was kind of greasy, brushed straight down his face; covering most of it. It made his piercing green eyes stand out all the more. His face turned red and he shuffled uncomfortably when your eyes met. You offered a friendly wave and a warm smile.

Then your attention was back on the food. So many fancy bites to try. You didn't know they made quiches that small! A soft tugging on your sleeve had you turning to see the boy again, now standing in front of you.

"M- My name is Kylar." He said, not making eye contact. He was small, and his body language screamed submissiveness. It made you feel a little more at ease. You could probably kill him with your bare hands if he tried anything. You introduced yourself and offered him a baby quiche off your plate. You weren't a huge fan of meatless quiches anyway.

Kylar held the small baked good in his hands as though you had just given him your heart. You were pretty thankful when Bailey called you back over. As you walked away, you heard someone laughing. A blond boy with hair covering one eye was laughing at Kylar. Did they know eachother? Were they friends? Why was he laughing at his friend? Next to the blond, was another blond boy. The one with long hair, wearing monk's robes, scolded the boy with piercings. They looked like brothers.

When you finally made it back to Bailey, he put his arm around your waist and handed you a glass of champagne. It was bubbly and tickled your throat when you drank it. You drank a few flutes of champagne and felt really funny after the fifth one. Enough so that it was hard to walk without clinging to Bailey. Maybe it was because your face was pressed into his chest, but he smelled really good. You think that's when he decided to leave with you, but it's all hazy after that. Bailey, as it would turn out, was equally hammered. He had enough of his wits about him to rent a room for the both of you, and not drive. But not enough to keep himself from ogling you in the outfit he bought you.

He practically carried you to the room. Which was fine by you. You had a pleasant, warm feeling spreading throughout your body when you pressed against him. After unlocking the door, the pair of you stumbled into the room. It was nice and all, but Bailey had other things on his mind. One other thing, actually. You were so drunk you let him strip you of your jewelry, shoes and stockings. You didn't complain when he removed a but his boxers, not did you mention the damp tent he had going on.

You admired his physic, his scars and his tattoos. It wasn't until he was undressing you, that something in your brain clicked and told you this was wrong. You weakly tried to push Bailey away, your intoxication making hard to move or speak. You whined softly.

"What are you doing?" He ignored you entirely, tearing the gown to rip it from your gorgeous body. You squirmed under him, trying to move away, but he held you firmly in place. His hands felt really good on your hips once they were bare to him, fire igniting every where he touched.

Bailey was achingly hard. Quinn must have put something in his drink. There was no way he wanted to fuck Eden's smoking hot kid as badly as he did. It wasn't like he'd jacked off to the thought of deflowering you before. To sending you home, his seed running down your pretty thighs. Even as you weakly struggled and protested under him, he took off your bra with expert skill. When you tried to cover yourself, he gathered your hands and pinned them above your head.

"Uncle Bailey, stop." You whimpered, your begging only turning him on more. He used he free hand to force your legs apart, so he could settle between them. He thought, for a fleeting moment, about preparing you. No. He wanted to hear you screaming his name. He wanted everyone to hear it. Your undergarments were quickly pulled from your body, leaving your virginal sex exposed to him. Drunk as he was, Bailey was salivating at the sight of you; naked, tears pricking at your eyes, struggling and making the cutest sounds. He was going to fuck you till your pussy molded to the shape of his cock. His underwear went next, tossed carelessly across the room. Again, you tried to wriggle away from him.

"Uncle Bailey, please. I don't want this. I- I've never-" His lips crashed into your's before you could finish speaking. His tongue invaded your mouth, your teeth clacking together in his desperation. More focused on getting your mouth free, you were only distantly aware of Bailey lining the crying head of his cock up with your wet hole. It came to the forefront of your thoughts when he pushed against it. He was huge, bigger than you thought he would be. Not that you thought about it before. He was your uncle, why would you? You gasped as he groaned. Then, in one forceful thrust, he burried himself to the hilt in your tight, no longer virgin pussy.

"Fuck, I felt that. Were you waiting for uncle Bailey to pop your cherry, sweatheat?" He gave you no time to adjust, setting a desperate, needy pace from the get-go. You were crying fully now. The stretch of him hurt! It hurt and he was hurting you more by moving!

"Hu-u-urts!" You sobbed, encouraging Bailey to force your knees to your chest.

"Only for a little bit. It'll feel real good in a minute, treasure." Bailey nipped your lip before moving to take your nipple into his mouth. His lips sucked at the sensitive nub while his talented tongue flicked against the tip. He groaned against your soft skin when your pussy clamped down on his cock. His movement faltered for a beat or two before regaining his rhythm. He continued groping and teasing your chest until your sobbing became choked, unbidden moans. You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself quiet He felt your walls relax around him, making moving easier.

"Didn't I tell you, kitten? Fuck, you love this, don't you? Love having uncle Bailey's fat fucking cock wrecking your little pussy." You hated it. You hated him. He was right and it made the shame that much harder to bear. It didn't hurt anymore. The burning sensation from his cock felt good. It felt so good you wanted more. You felt so full, almost complete. Try as you might, he had you singing for him.

Bailey let go of your hands to force your knees to your chest, folding you in half and giving him easy access to a spot inside you that you'd never reached. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back into your head as he abused the sweet spot inside you. A tight, clenched sort of feeling began winding inside you. You found it hard to breathe suddenly, his name on your lips like a prayer.

"Fuck, yes, that's right. Fuck, you fucking love my cock." Bailey's pace increased, barely pulling out anymore before plunging back in; working the base of his cock and letting his heavy balls slap against your ass. He was ready to cum, but he refused to finish before you. A little denial never hurt him. He enjoyed it every now and then when he was getting himself off. Oh, but your tight little heat, absolutely dripping for him felt so much better than his hand. Far better than he imagined.

"Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna wake up and fuck you again in the morning." You arched your back orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. You cried out, incoherent as he continued to abuse your cunt; using your orgasm and the rythmic clenching of your pussy to get off.

"God! Fucking, yes! Gonna send you home with my cum gushing from your tight little pussy. Keep you coming back for- fuck!" Bailey's rhythm lost it's beat. He frantically fucked himself into you, desperate for his high.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Bailey, honest to god, moaned your name as he came. Pressed to the hilt inside you, he worked himself through his orgasm, prolonging it by grinding himself into you. The feeling of his pubic hair harshly rubbing against your clit pushed your over sensitive body to another high.

He didn't give either of you a chance to rest or recover. Flipping you over, he stared rolling his hips into you again. You whimpered and begged for a break, only for him to slap your ass, leaving an angry, red hand print, and laugh at you.

"Your body belongs to me now, and you're not going anywhere till I'm done with you, kitten." You whimpered as he pushed you down into the mattress, fucking his cum out of you as he prepared to fuck more into you.

Bailey never had much of a sex drive. He didn't know if it was from the abuse he suffered growing up, or if it was natural. Frankly, he didn't want to know. What he did know, was that it left him the a hell of a lot of stamina. You were in for a long night, and when you got home, you'd have to explain to your parents where your bruises came from, why you were walking like that, and why you needed to start visiting Bailey on the weekends.

In a couple of months, you'd have to explain to them why you have a bun in the oven.

(- anon 🚩 bad uncle Bailey takin it from noncon to dubcon gets me hrrrnnngggg.)

Bailey having a crush on both Eden and Pre-PC at the same time makes me think about them double teaming him after a night out drinking.

But also bad uncle Bailey breeding his sweet little niece, keeping her nice and dripping with cum at every chance is such a lovely image. Looking his best friend in the eye and telling him they had a wonderful time, he even took her somewhere to eat out!

Current-PC trying not to blush at the horrible puns Bailey makes about the various ways he's fucked her so Eden doesn't figure out what happened.

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out At Night

Chapter 2: Say My Name. A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me

Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con. 

              Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell. At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her. “Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop. “Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant. It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.

Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room. Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes. “Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.

‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself. The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.

Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?

The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away. “Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.

Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.

‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence. “Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister. Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.

When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!” “Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason. ‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.

One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first. “We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”

Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head. “M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.

“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.

The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure. Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”  

Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend. “P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”

The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.

“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.

“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.

“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.

Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.

Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare. “How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu. Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up. “Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother. Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.

‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers. “P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye. “See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice. In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.

With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.

Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.

She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.

“DESMOND!”

She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.

“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”

[junglekookbook]

Papilionem

Yoongi × reader

Genre: crack, yandere, angst

A/n: I write for my one muse and one muse only, I am scared to be posting again but it really helps to have a friend always have your back and support you. Hopefully I don't disappoint people with my writing. @cosmostae

Prologue (for context)

The human species as Y/n would soon come to understand was extremely selfish and pompous. Not a week had passed since she had crashed onto this planet and suddenly it became her job to save them. Like she owed it to them, when she barely managed to survive there was not one huan that worried about her but only criticsed her and called her incompetent and said that she was bad at her job. Duties aside, she did not deserve this. Why was babysitting this ungrateful species her responsibility. Her duty was to protect earth, the planet not it’s inhabitants. Maybe she should let these pitiful creatures just freeze to death. She hated Yoongi, but somehow she had grown to loathe the human species more. She had managed to secure a home in a rundown building far away from the city. Really far away. Something called ‘radioactivity’ or something was present in the area. She found it funny. ‘Just another one of those superstitions’ she thought. Her large crimson wings shimmered in the golden light of the setting sun. The warmth soothed her skin and helped her take away her attention from the pain from all her injuries that she had sustained while duelling with Yoongi. Her species was really not equipped to handle the cold. A cold dry laugh escaped her lips, finding it comical how over the years while the species of other planets focused on evolving traits that could be weaponized, hers had focussed on peace and aesthetics. Look where that got them. Cryonovians had evolved a trait to specifically destroy her planet and win the long cold war while her planet focussed on stupid things like ‘what is the meaning of life?’ “Mass extinction” She blurted out bitterly. Whilst it was true that her loyalty would always be with her home planet she could not help but be filled with disdain at the pompousness of all those philosophers. Sounds of cracking glass shook her out of her thoughts, straightening her back she poked her head from the sill to survey the surroundings. It definitely was not a human, they were very rigid with this superstition. Swinging her legs off the window sill she floated over the floor to the source of the sound. Her hands were already preparing a small ball of energy. 

Yoongi stood leaning against the door frame, a plastic bag in his hands. Y/n was in no shape to fight and he knew that. If she chose to fight now, she could die, only he wouldn’t let her. He had always found them to be like lamb and lion. There was no winning chance for the lamb but he found it cute how it still tried. His amusement had developed into an infatuation that he had denied for a very long until Hoseok, his closest friend from the neighbouring planet had made him realize that he was smitten with the lamb. It was from then that he did everything in his power to get the two of them together on Earth, away from all the dirty politics, of course he did not want the annihilation of her planet, but then that Jimin showed up and suddenly that planet needed to go. The first time he saw her on this filthy planet, looking so vulnerable, he was ready to recite the confession he had spent days preparing. He expected her to be angry or cry but he really did not expect the way his throat constricted and heart raced at the sight of her. His words formed a lump in his throat that made it hard for him to breathe.  That night she had knocked him off his feet, in every sense of the phrase. The days that followed seemed like a fun show to put on. He realized that watching her lose made him happy. This part of himself he was still battling with. How could he enjoy hurting someone he loved? Was it the fact that he hurt her or the fact that he never killed her? He enjoyed the control and the act of mercy he showed her everytime they duelled. It felt like a bonding activity to him.

“What? What are you here for? You are going to kill me aren’t you?” Y/n asked when she saw him leaning against the door. Yoongi took in her bruised body, and ripped wing, the bruises on her knuckles when she had had the grand idea of using physical attacks with him, it had felt like punching a brick of ice. It pained him to see her like that, knowing that he was the reason for it. That is not what he wants their future to be, when they do get married he would not be caught dead hurting her. “Why would I do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow. Y/n’s lower lip jut out in annoyance, eyes glaring daggers at him. “Oh, right I forgot, you prefer to mock me publicly everytime we fight.” She spat. “Mock you? I-” Shaking his head, he chose not to talk about it, “I came here bearing gifts.” He said raising his hands and showing her the plastic bag, the act making her flinch and making a dull pain settle in his chest. She did not feel safe around him, but he would fix that, starting with these juice boxes and packed potato chips. “I want nothing from you.” she said, moving away to create distance between them. “No, don’t say that! I had to freeze the cashier for these!” He protested, walking towards her again. 

“I don’t have a home to go back to. Do you know what that is like?” She blurted out, her eyes welled up and voice broke at the end of the question. Yoongi felt his heart constrict, “I would not go back either, I will stay here with you.” He offered, he did not want to see her in more pain, he had already caused her enough of that. His offer was met with the faint feeling of getting hit by her energy blasts on the arm. She did not have the strength to hurt him, it felt like a slight tap on the shoulder at best. “You have people to go back to. People who love you, care about you, who are waiting for you. I- I am alone on this planet, trapped with no where to go, their stupid atmosphere feels like a glass jar. I have no one to go to and no one who would take care of me! I can’t live with this loneliness forever!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face, she hid her face in her hands, falling to her knees, cutting them against the glass shards. Green blood dripped from her wounds, unlike the humans it was nitrogen her species needed. Most species relied on nitrogen and helium, luckily earth had enough nitrogen to sustain her. “You’re right, I don’t know what that is like.” Yoongi finally admitted, he took slow steps when approaching her, with great caution he wrapped his glacial arms around her “but I am willing to understand. We are away from all the war, away in a world of our own, maybe sometimes we just don’t have to fight,” He cooed at her, running his hand through her hair. He did not receive an answer from her, but as the sun set, Y/n cried herself to sleep inYoongi’s embrace. 

When she woke up in the morning, Yoongi was not around, a cool sensation lingered on her arms but it wasn’t the kind that caused discomfort, it made her understand why humans used ice on wounds. After breaking down last night in front of the man she had sworn to kill, she felt the pain fade and dull in a manner that fomentation with ice could only do. His words played in her head “A world of our own” he had said, no one would know if they fought or not, last night she felt a comfort she had not felt in a long time, but then again, she had not been shown kindness in a long time. It was the bare minimum on Yoongi’s part, she brushed it off as basic courtesy, as for what he said, she would give him an answer once her wounds healed. In the words of the human philosopher, Taylor Swift “Band aids don’t fix bullet holes” and she had just endured air bombings. 

The wings took the longest to heal, it took great patience to see them come together and for the scar to disappear. She took a day for herself, tried those potato chips and almost gagged at the ridiculous amount of sugar in that litchi juice box. Given that she hated sugar so much, she figured that she would use it to address Yoongi. She was growing tired of using that Cryonovian name. She wrote him a letter that day, to be fair, she wrote him at least thirty but sent only one. 

“Dear Yoongi, Yoongi, Suga,

What happened between us, nothing happened betw Maybe it is easier for you to ask for a few moments of peace, you have not lost everything that you had known to be true about your existence or purpose. With my planet no longer existing, I have often questioned why I must still keep the promises of an extinct species, but I understand it now. You froze a man to death for some edibles, something I could never do, these humans, they are so fragile… they need my protection, I must protect them from people like you who simply take and take and take. You took my home and my love, you are taking from these people too. I may not be strong enough to defeat you yet, but I will never stop trying, so long as humans can see that I am good and you are not, I will fight. When next we speak it will be as rivals.”

They did meet as rivals again. High above in the sky, a crimson winged fairy fought a white haired cryokinesis wielding assassin. With new found motivation coursing through her veins, she fought Yoongi. A part of her acted impulsively, filled with denial for finding comfort in his arms. She was relentless in her rain of energy on his figure. She knew that she was doing better than she ever had, she might just win, maybe she would mock him too. Let him live to be defeated again. Make a spectacle out of him like he did everytime. She allowed herself a small glance at the crowd gathered below that cheered for her today. That believed in her after so long. Only… they didn’t. They hated her for doing well against the mysterious bad boy villain with ice powers. They hated her for trying. They hated her no matter what she did. A sudden sense of despair consumed her, making her mind go numb, a window that Yoongi used to gain the upper hand. He had not intended to hit her heart, he aimed for her arm, he watched with dread filled eyes as her unconscious body started falling through the air. In his panic and desperation he reached out his hand to hold her, letting her survive that fall. Losing control of his powers in his state of distress he watched the icicle impale her heart in horror. The screaming of the crowd died down and the sound that echoed in his head over and over was the thud that had accompanied Y/n’s fall. He had killed her.

[loganisanobody]

Anxiety

I gasped, waking up suddenly on a cold, flat surface. I squinted at the light above me, glaring its cold fluorescence down into my face. I tried to move, but I found my wrists, ankles, and neck strapped down. My heartbeat and breathing only got faster.

I looked around, but there wasn’t much to look at. Besides the bright light above me, the room was dim, and besides me and the table, there was nothing else in the room. The walls were brick— large, white brick that had obviously had multiple coats of paint over the years. The floor and ceiling were concrete, the former littered with drag and paint marks and other wear and tear. There was a single door to my left, metal but under multiple coats of paint like the wall.

I turned back to struggling against my restraints, or at least the four that wouldn’t choke me.

My rattling must have alerted my kidnapper, because the door clicked, and I looked up to see it open, a smiling man walking inside.

“Ah, you’re awake!” He said, walking over to me.

I shrank away from him, tugging at my restraints still even as I stared at him.

He put on a dramatic pout. “Oh, no ‘good morning’ for me? Dear, dear. Someone should teach you more manners.” He shrugged and smiled. “Or, they should have. It doesn’t matter now.”

My heart skipped a beat. “W-what do you mean?”

His smile widened. “What I mean is it doesn’t matter. Your life doesn’t matter anymore. From this point on, you’re dead, or tainted.” He giggled.

At this point he looked down and dug into his lab coat pocket, pulling out a syringe.

His face slackened, looking more serious as he held the syringe up and started flicking it. I began to pull at my restraints in earnest, but then he took one hand and slammed my head down against the table, holding it there, though I was too dazed to fight back as he stuck the syringe in the crook of my neck, emptying its contents into my bloodstream.

By the time I had recovered, he had tossed the syringe aside with the sound of breaking glass and had started to undo my restraints.

I had enough presence of mind to lay still just long enough for him to undo all the restraints, then pushed him back and rolled off the other side of the table, scrambling for the door.

It was locked.

I heard laughter, and I spun, pressing my back against the door as the man stood on the other side of the room.

“Let me go!”

He laughed again. “Are you sure you want that?”

I hesitated. “W-what?”

“Are? You? Sure? You? Want? That?” he enunciated, stepping around the table.

I pushed my back painfully against the metal of the door, staring at him. “Y-yes. Let me go.”

He chuckled. “You don’t sound sure. You sound like what I just gave you is working. But alas, you don’t know what that means. And there we have the crux of the situation, don’t we? You don’t know what I just gave you. You don’t know what it will do to you, what it will make you do.”

My blood was rushing in my ears, and I was starting to feel lightheaded. He had stopped at the head of the table, or he would surely have made it to me by now.

“I… I don’t care. Just let me go.”

“You don’t? Not even about your boyfriend?”

Logan.

What if whatever he gave me makes me hurt Logan? Or kill him?

Suddenly my mind was filled with gruesome images of Logan hurt, dead, dying.

And the man smiled as if he knew exactly what I was seeing.

“You don’t want to hurt him, do you?”

“What did you do to me?!”

The man threw back his head and laughed.

Suddenly I couldn’t take it, the sound of his laughter. It was grating against every atom of my being.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Suddenly I was on the floor, curled up with my knees to my chest, my hands over my ears, my eyes squeezed shut. The light was too bright, the laughter too loud, my own clothes rough against my skin. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Images of Logan in a pool of blood kept flashing into my mind.

And then, finally, it all faded away…

*****

Dragging myself into consciousness was like dragging myself through mud. No. Syrup. Molasses. Tar.

My head was pounding and every inch of my body ached.

I groaned and moved to adjust my limbs to try to alleviate some pain. In doing so, I noticed the solidness beneath me.

I slowly blinked my eyes open, and as I took in my surroundings, memories rushed back, stealing my breath.

I was laying on concrete, and before me was a white brick wall. Slowly, I sat up, looking around. There was no table, no broken glass. Just a few holes in the wall, and a door, and me.

I stood quickly and rushed to the door, rattling the doorknob in an attempt to open it, but it was locked, and the metal was solid.

I pounded against the door. “Let me out!” I cried. “Help! Somebody, please!”

I listened for some sort of response.

But the one I got was definitely not the one I wanted.

A soft hissing sounded from somewhere around me, and I spun, trying to find the source. Was he trying to poison me now? Gas me to death?

But then there was movement from the base of the wall, and I looked to see a snake slither its way out of one of the holes I had seen before.

I screamed.

And then they were pouring out of every hole, every shape and size and color, some dropping from holes in the ceiling I hadn’t noticed. I pressed myself against the door, watching in horror as they quickly filled the floor, sliding over each other and around my feet.

I didn’t dare move or scream again for fear of attracting their attention, but my breathing was growing quicker and quicker, and my blood was roaring in my ears.

And then the door opened, pushing me forward. I screamed as I fell into the snakes, covering my face as they hissed and swarmed around me.

But then someone was grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.

“Hey! Hey! Are you all right!” I finally heard, and I peeked out from behind my hands. It was bright, and I flinched, but I looked again and saw the blue uniform and the concerned face of a police officer.

I pulled my hands down further and looked around. I was outside, in what seemed to be the downtown of some city.

Then I saw the snakes again as they spilled out of the building, and I screamed.

“Hey, hey.” The police officer grabbed me and pulled my gaze up so I couldn’t see the snakes anymore. “It’s okay. They can’t hurt you, okay? We’re going to get you home. Can you tell us where home is?”

I couldn’t think, could barely process what he was saying. My breathing was still fast and shallow, and my heartbeat quick and loud.

“Home?” they said again, recapturing my attention.

“Home?” I repeated. “Um… yeah… it’s 1249 Willow Way… out in Camden?”

“Okay, we can find that. Now let’s get you in the car, okay? Over here…”

*****

I was on the couch at Logan’s apartment, trying to pay attention to the movie he had put on for us to watch.

But, of course, I couldn’t.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I reached over, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. “Logan?”

“Yes, Starlight?”

I flinched, ignoring his worried expression.

I got up so I could pace.

“I… I’m sorry but I… I can’t… I can’t keep waiting. I know it’s going to come eventually but you always said you admired how I’d go down fighting, so… here’s me going down fighting.” I took a deep breath. “I love you, Logan. But you know that. And it doesn’t matter, if you don’t love me, but I do. I love you so much. A-and I can contribute to this relationship, still. I-I mean… I know I don’t have a job right now, but if you would let me, I promise I could find one and I would work any job so we would never have to worry about food or rent or doctors’ appointments… A-and! I-I can make my hours whatever you want so I’m always home when you want me to be. And you can always pick the movie, or dinner, or-or…”

“Starlight…”

I shook my head. “And any time you want… you know… it. We can do it. It’s… fine.”

“Virgil, no.”

“I just want to make you happy, Logan! And I understand! I understand that the only thing that will make you happy is me leaving, but I can’t! I… I…”

“Virgil—”

“No! How am I supposed to make sure you stay happy if I leave?! How am I supposed to make sure the next guy doesn’t mess up, too? How do I make sure he doesn’t mess up worse? At least I can contribute! At least I don’t hurt you, right?”

Logan was standing now, reaching out for me, but I was backing up, nearly at the opposite wall.

“Oh, who am I kidding. Now that I say all this, it sounds so stupid. Why would anyone want to keep me? He was right. I’m just… tainted.”

There was a silence.

“Who.”

I looked up, realizing as my sight of Logan was blurry that I had started crying. “W-what?”

“Who told you that you were ‘tainted’?”

I slapped a hand over my mouth, realizing my mistake. Over the past few weeks, I had of course had to tell Logan about the snakes, but I had managed to not tell him about the man and his mysterious drug.

“No, no. Tell me,” Logan said, softly but sternly, reaching up and gently pulling my hand away.

Tears filled my eyes again. He took my hand, still in his, and slowly led me back over to the couch.

We sat in silence for a moment as I gathered myself.

“H-he… he was my kidnapper, I guess… I don’t know… I never saw who actually did the kidnapping. But he was there when I… woke up…”

I paused, but Logan didn’t push. He simply sat and rubbed a thumb over my knuckles soothingly.

“H-he said… He… He said…” I let out a sob, and Logan jumped to pull me into his arms, my head tucked into his chest. “He said my life didn’t matter anymore,” I choked out into his shirt. “That I would be dead or tainted.”

“Oh, Starlight…”

I let out another sob at the pet name.

“Is he the one that put you in with the snakes?” I shrugged. “Probably? But…”

“But?”

“He also… He also drugged me…”

Logan pulled back, looking at me with wide eyes. “He did what?”

I shrank back.

“No, no, Starlight. I’m not mad at you. I’m appalled at him. How dare he?” Logan gathered me in his arms again, holding me tighter than before. “What drug?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

Logan was silent, but he held me so tight it was starting to hurt. Somehow, I didn’t mind.

“I was so scared, Lo…” I whispered.

“I know, Virge. I know.” Logan laid a kiss in my hair, then rested his head on mine. “I know.”

[bangtan-sinnamons]

Exotic

Part 2

⤞ Paring: Snake!Jungkook x Human!reader

⤞ Summary: When you are stranded on an island full of hybrids, a little someone is excited to meet you.

⤞ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Sprinkle of angst

⤞Warning: None that I can think of.

⤞ Word count:  2,323

UMM I put a bit more angst than I planned on. Pt 2 if y’all love soft kook.

Grudgingly you tried to get up, but quickly realized how futile it was when you had to bite your lip to avoid tears from slipping out. A sharp pain pierced your head and colorful spots flashed your vision, it felt like your whole body had been worn away ceasing every movement to ache. The ground beneath you seemingly wrapped you in its coldness and your damp clothes didn’t seem to help.

For perhaps a split second, you were no longer worried about freezing to death. A rigid feeling grazed your skin and its warm touch made you cease your shaking from coldness, but the fact that you didn’t recognize what was touching you made you anxious. Your vision becomes slightly clearer and you notice someone’s arm have wrapped around your form as they lay beside you. The blood drains from your face, your eyes expanding when you finally see what seems to be a human with scaly patches covering his body.

When he noticed you had stop shaking, he glanced at your expression and he was just surprised as you were, “Oh um Hi,” He nervously breathes out. “You were shivering and I wanted to give you my warmth…I didn’t know you were awake. I’m sorry,” he rambles as he unwraps his arms around you.

“You…” Your voice came out harshly and uneven. Your eyes danced around at your surroundings noticing you were in some sort of cave. You could see the hybrid twitched involuntarily at the corner of your eyes, his mouth formed a tense pout as he awaits for your next words. “You saved me?...Thanks,” you whispered. You were parched and your voice no longer held a sustainable tone.

His eyes brimmed with joy forming little crescents at your words. He felt so full of joy from a simple thanks. That’s when he realized his life wasn’t so bad, if you were by his side. His customary cautious poker face that he had adopted throughout the years exploded into a radiant smile. How did you break his barrier so easily? He sweared he was mentally stronger than this. “I’M…” he said too loudly before stoping to contain his excitement. “I am Jungkook,” he smiles, but If he had a tail you would have seen him wag a 100 miles per hour.

“Hey…I’m Y/N,” you manage to smile back at him and he looks pleased at himself.  

He scooted a bit closer to you, to hopefully give you enough body heat again, “How did you get here?” His head tilts in curiosity. He never met a human this close on the island. Well, he didn’t really meet any of the other hybrids either, but this new experience excited him. At first, Jungkook didn’t care when he saw a lifeless human on the shore, he assumed it was one of the evil people who had brought all the hybrids here to rot in their demise, but this human didn’t wear the typical bright and ugly yellow outfit. He slid over to you out of pure curiosity, but he never realized he would bring you into his cave.

“I’m not sure. My last memory was being in a yacht,” you say as you examined the man. His eyes were round and seemed to have glowed when the moon illuminated his hues from the cave. The other noticeable feature besides his scales were his canines being slightly longer than usual. You notice Jungkook give out a soft yawn before looking at you again .“Sorry…I’m probably intruding. Shouldn’t you go to sleep? You helped me a lot already,” you say as he hands you a large leaf filled with water.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m mostly nocturnal.” He smiles as he watches you gulp down the water.

You wiped your wet stained lips when the water dribbled down. “May I ask what hybrid you are?” You heard some people back at home talking about hybrids, but you never really believed it. Now seeing one right in front of you, definitely peaked your interest.

Jungkook was shocked at the question, he didn’t expect you to ask so soon. All the reasons not to reveal his identity came flooding in, as if he would fall back into his hole of anxiety if he did. He panicked with the thought that you would leave him like all the other hybrids, when he told them that he was a snake hybrid. You were already incredibly nice and he didn’t want it to come crashing down, at least not yet.

The words didn’t come out and you noticed his eyes flickering about. “I didn’t mean to pry. Can I just say, I feel oddly inclined to trust you,” you admitted.

“You do?” He stammered. “Thanks, Y/n” The nervous tingle he felt vanish and he was back to his bubbly self.

You sighed in satisfaction when the mood was uplifted once more. “By the way, do you know a way I can get back home?”

He felt conflicted. He wanted to help you, but at the same time he hoped you would somehow stay in his lonely place he had called home. Although he wants you, needs you, maybe even love you... presumably you will have to walk away. In this world, he was never supposed to meet you anyway. He couldn’t possibly steal your happiness for his greedy heart. “Yes, I do,” a soft but audible whisper left his lips. He tells you about how the government had dumped hybrids on this island in order to keep the idea of such beings as a fantasy and away from human minds. He mentions the weekly shipment of hybrids and that’s how you could escape. All you had to do was wait for another 6 days, stand on the dock and go in their ship. Before you know it, the sun had risen and the sleep in Jungkook’s eyes becomes apparent.

“Sleep well, Kook. Thanks for everything,” you soothed as his eyelids seemed to droop.

The nickname he earned continued to soften his cold heart, but your words made him nervous. Why did it sound like a farewell? He tried to stay awake by shaking his head vigorously. The soft hand rubbing his hair didn’t help and he snoozed off into your arms. You had relocated him onto the light that seeped through the cave before stepping out into the wilderness, beyond his small cave.

You started walking, inching toward nothing in particular and enjoying the warm rays. It was different from just going into your backyard to bask in the sun. The wilderness aspect made you feel more free, besides the fact that you were moving agonizingly slow due to the aches in your legs.

Just as you saw a creek nearby, you heard heavy footsteps crunching the leaves. It got increasing louder and moved towards you. You didn’t move a muscle and you held your breathe, somehow believing it would go away if you stayed silent.

“Human?” A raspy voices calls out. “So this new smell was you,” a male hybrid walks out from behind the tree. He was very tall and his shoulder was broad. His face was engraved with a frown. He shook his head in disapproval when he noticed where you had come from. “So you met the snake,”

“Who?” Your brows creased in confusion.

“That cave,” he pointed to Jungkook’s place with a disgusted look on his face. “The snake is really sly, he really likes to size up his prey and treat them nicely before he eats them,”

“He would not. You don’t even seem to know his name, so who are you to judge,” You critizited. His round ears flopped downward before he began to walk closer to you. Way to close and for some reason even though you had talked back to him, he still had an intimidating aura that made you freeze.

  He lowered his head near your ear and you felt his breathe on your skin. “I’m just trying to help you out human,” He tries to suppress a growl, but it felt threatening nonetheless. You were afraid, but you try not to let it show. “I’m a bear hybrid I could protect you way better than that fool. Plus I saw a boat sailing nearby that’s probably looking for you. Don’t you want to go home?” he fed you lies hoping you would take it out of desperation. The bear loathed the snake, despised how strong and intelligent he was. He always made sure no hybrid came close, but for some reason you remain unaffected by his words. How dare you go against his wishes.

You backed away from the fuming bear that seemingly wanted to rip your throat , “Too bad I don’t trust you,” it was a risk to provoke a bear hybrid, but the adrenaline pulsing through you made you stick your tongue out before heading towards the creek. It was silent for a while and you had a silver of hope that you won the verbal battle. If it got physical you were fucked. The throb in your body still remained and you were starving. One punch and you are a goner for sure.

“You’re hungry right. I can help,” he made himself known again, but in a calmer manner than before. His fake personality masked over once more, a smile appearing on his face. He really thought you were oblivious to his trick.

You dipped your feet into the cool water that rushed past in a refreshing way. The bear was unwavering from his spot, he stalked you like a small prey. “Don’t need any help,”  You say as you observe the slow moving water for some fish. You were able to spot something glimmer in the early morning sun and bended down to get a hold of one. A success, you were glad that you had prior experience. You smirked, seeing the shock register on his face.

“BiTcH. Don’t cry for help when you are eaten alive,” He yells, hands bawling into fists before he shape-shifted and disappeared into the trees. He knew it was pointless to fight a mere human that had no power in the hierarchy of the hybrid world.

Meanwhile, Jungkook shotted up, eyes wandering in search for you.  When he recognized your silhouette coming towards him he smiled, but that smile only lasted for a few seconds.

Jungkook’s nose twitched. He recognized the scent coming off you and worry clouded his thoughts. “Did someone try to hurt you?” He hissed, the suffocating smell invaded his cave. Nothing good came from this scent, he had associated it with the depths of hell and the fact that it covered you angered him. He wasn’t able to protect you. “He hurt you didn’t he,” his voice raised up fifty octaves.

He bares his fangs and his forked tongue flicks out subconsciously. He didn’t even realize how all those years of repressing his animalistic side was becoming undone by the second. You watch as his pupils contracted into a vertical slit. His attention was solely focused on you, cutting off anything that could possibly distract him. That’s when he noticed how stiff you were and how your soft smile no longer condoned your facial features.

“Kook…I’m okay. I can kick ass,” you made the effort to sound reassuring, despite how weak you feel.

He sighed, you probably knew that he was a snake by now, but for some reason you didn’t act any different. All the friends that he made ran away after this scent was on them, yet you were still here. This gave him the confidence he thought he didn’t need, but now he couldn’t help but love you even more. “Thats good,” he huffed. Silence filled the cave and he insisted to hear more reassurance. “You really trust me?” he trembled.

The simple caress of his hair became a fulfillment of his desire and crave for affection. “Yes,” you said, running your hand through his hair again until he seemingly purred against your hand. That’s all he needed before his shoulder fell from its intensity and his pupil dilated back to its original state. To be trusted is a great acknowledgment than being loved. If that’s all you can offer then he would gladly accept it.

How did anyone want to hurt this little ball of sunshine? It was as if all the pain in his world had finally found a voice. “I would fight him if I needed to,” you laughed, lightening the mood.

“Fight a bear?!? Don’t do that…” he mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You raised a brow and a sly face appeared, “Kook if I could..” You laughed, when you registered the shock plastered on Jungkook’s face as you shoved him to the floor, one of your hands easing into the space above his right hip. He didn’t even realize that it was where he was most ticklish. Now making him squirm and laugh uncontrollably. “If I could beat you. I can beat a god damm bear”

You were on top of him and his face was brighter than ever. Not Fair. So not fair. He loved you so much even though he’s known you for 10 hours… how can he be so hopelessly in love.

Of course he didn’t dare push you off, so he allowed your assaults to continue, until laughing brought aches in his stomach. You bended down to give a kiss on his nose before you lay beside him , “You got a very boopable nose,” you innocently acknowledge without noticing how Jungkook literally turned into putty in your hands. How was he gonna handle it when you leave him. This left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, but he was gonna enjoy this moment for now. Because there’s nothing better than deep breaths after laughing so hard. Nothing that feels as great as a sore stomach for the right reason.

Part 2

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 41

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

The air was crisp and buzzing with tension as you walked through the forest that was a part of the endless gardens surrounding the palace. No matter how far you ventured, the palace still rose behind your back, melted into the very core of the mountain piercing the clouds. 

The river shimmered somewhere to your right as you followed Loki through the thicket.

"You okay?" he asked again, casting you a glance over his shoulder. 

You just nodded, a little breathless after circling around the fallen trees and muddy holes. 

The reason behind Loki's concern was getting nearer with each step. Magic was sizzling in the air, filled with energy not unlike one of a storm front's lightning about to strike. You'd passed a few bird-like creatures on your way there, but they didn't dare come close to the Rift. Double sets of wigs took them away and into safer spots. A three-eyed doe disappeared among gnarled trees, shedding starlight as it skittled off. Even the plants, usually a feral mass of color, seemed all to have withered the closer you got to the Rift. The only things left were dried, greyish branches and rotten greens of mud slipping upwards over them. 

Loki stopped at the edge of a clearing and took your hand. Your breath came out in clouds against the icy cold that shouldn't have been possible on the Edge.

In the center of the clearing hovered a rip. It was a long, sharp wound that filled you with a sense of wrongness. The mud in the direct closeness to it rose as if sucked by phantom winds and entered the dark, narrow space where it sizzled and disappeared. There was nothing natural in the way it made your skin crawl, even despite the safe distance between you. 

You couldn't blame anyone in the palace for wanting to stop it from spreading. Even if it meant complicating your life. 

Loki must've sensed your tension. He ran a hand over your back in a soothing manner, as he often did to calm you down. 

"We're far enough from it to be safe from its influence," he said. 

"Are you sure it'll be enough to hide your magic?" 

"I think so. Opening a portal requires a lot of energy from Bifrost, but the Rift should help us hide the evidence." 

"If it opens at all," you reminded him.

"Indeed," Loki sighed, getting ready for the inevitable. 

Having been almost murdered by a huge spider put both of you in an uneasy situation. No matter how you looked at it, it became obvious that your little investigation was definitely going against someone's plans. 

It would be dangerous to try and point a finger at anyone without evidence. Everyone you'd met so far had a motive. Your only wonder was the ambassador's role in this tangled mess - was he working with someone, or trying to correct the balance on his own? The notes found in his study were quite clear about his interest in the value of life on the Edge. The bloodiest conflicts in its history led to centuries of peace and freedom from Rifts forming, but was such bloodshed even possible anymore, let alone worth it? Was the ambassador's death just a door to achieving it through a new war against Asgard? Or was it simply a suicide? 

Loki and you spent a large part of the morning looking over the few facts in your possession, feeling like you were piecing a puzzle together without ever seeing the original picture. They had to connect somehow, and make sense through the details, but no matter how you looked at them, you still missed something vital. 

Those were frustrating hours that only resulted in making your heads hurt from coming up with increasingly bizarre theories. It was a good thing then, that you never left the bed and could relax for a while. There were marks on your bodies left from the night, and it took you both a while to retrace them. It took you longer to add some new ones, in ways that still made your toes curl thinking about it. Unfortunately, as pleasant as it was, it couldn't last forever. 

Which was what led you to decide to change the course of action a little bit, and play by a different set of rules. Neither Loki nor you were allowed to leave the Edge, but who would be there to blame you for it if no one ever found out? There were interesting places in the universe to pay a little visit to. 

One of those places was Asgard, where Loki claimed to have hidden a handy little device he had frequently used to trace even the thinnest whispers of magic back to its original caster. It was a long shot, considering how long ago he set foot in his chambers, but unless they'd been completely trashed, his secret stash should still hold. 

There were a few ways of sneaking into Asgard without notice, but Loki had to admit none of them led from the Edge. 

That left you with only one choice. A choice that made Loki's skin crawl. 

"Stay here," he braced through his discomfort and offered you a tight-lipped smile. "I'll see what I can do."

You watched him walk a few steps away. Loki held his chin high and shoulders square as he faced the dome of the neverending night overhead. 

"Listen, Heimdall, I know it's been a while, but don't you dare pretend you haven't been lurking-..." 

You leaned on a nearby boulder, carved with some intricate, needle-thin patterns. There was no reason you could come up with carving some huge boulder and then leaving it in the middle of a forest, but it was a good place to let your legs rest for a moment anyway. 

Loki left his bottomless bag with you as he continued his one-sided conversation, working himself up the more words poured out of him. He wasn't the most detailed about his relation with the being operating Biforst and guarding Asgard's borders, but from the way Loki talked about him, it was clear they weren't friends. What Loki had to ask of him now was a risky favor he had little hope would succeed. 

He tried it anyway, humiliating as it might make him feel. 

You watched him. His conversation turned into a rather heated argument, as one sided as it was. 

You looked up at the clusters of stars and galaxies passing the immeasurable expanse of the universe. Rarely had you felt so small and irrelevant. 

"You know," you said quietly, "Loki's really trying. He's doing his best, despite how shitty it is here. It's unfair how everybody expects so much out of him, but don’t consider how overwhelmed he is with all that's expected of him. No wonder he tries to hide it. It's hard to live knowing you'll never be what people want you to become, and how they are willing to force and shape you into what they'd rather have. But he's trying. He really is, and even now, he just needs this thing from Asgard to let us have some evidence and finish this investigation before we get killed for trying. Loki's amazing and capable, but even he needs some help sometimes, and I think now is one of those times. I try to help him as much as I can, but it's not me he needs right now. Just… be kinder on him, okay? If you're truly listening, I mean."

You sighed, biting your lip. The wind picked up some rogue leaves and dust, and took them away from the unnatural blemish looming to your right. The Rift was suspended mid-air, as if air itself had been torn and whatever lurked underneath the surface of reality, waited for the moment when it got wide enough to pass through. 

The weather on the Edge was mild usually, but you couldn't help a shudder from running down your back. 

Loki cursed in a language you didn't know. 

"At least we tried," he shrugged. 

There was a tight smile on his face, but it couldn't hide his disappointment completely. He would think of another way out, though, he just needed some time. 

Just as you were taking his bag and began to walk toward him, light enveloped both of you, and a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling threatened to bring the contents of your stomach to daylight. 

There was surprise in Loki's eyes, and a thread of hope as he reached out to you and gathered you in his arms. Clinging to him would be much more pleasant if the atoms weren't ripped out of your bodies, but before you blinked, the Bifrost plucked you out. Where you'd been standing, only faintest scorch marks remained. The Rift buzzed, but there was nothing for it to feed on. 

Pressing your face into Loki's chest didn't look dignified, but it helped you get through the blinding rush of universe passing you by. Your heart hammered against your chest, but Loki's arms held steady around you until all finally stopped. 

Peeling yourself from him took a considerable amount of effort, but once you did, both your fear and nausea dissipated. As it had happened with the Edge, the first thing that hit you was the smell you could only describe as otherworldly. It wasn't strong, but it filled you with the certainty that you were the stranger in this place of blinding gold. 

Loki and you arrived in a circular room at the end of a bridge casting rainbow reflexes under the setting sun. It was a beautiful thing, but you could only spare it a single look before a figure stepped down from the dais in the center. 

The man clad in armor of gold didn't budge at your gawking. Loki might be tall, but even in his own armor, he didn't look so menacing. 

"Hello, Heimdall," Loki nodded calmly, even though his arm was still on your back. "Long time no see, or at least on my side." 

"Coming here was an unwise choice," the warrior's voice boomed in the small space. He sheathed the impossibly long sword with ease. 

Loki put an unnerving smirk on his face. "And yet you got me through." 

You could've sworn Heimdall's eyes rested on you for the briefest moment. 

"So I did," was all he said, though. 

That was not an answer Loki had expected. He was tense, as if readying himself to argue or fight, but there was nothing about Heimdall that would suggest the need for that. The great Gatekeeper just stood, and waited. 

"We won't stay long," you promised carefully, breaking the silence. 

Loki loved you for it. 

"I have to retrieve something for the mission so thoughtfully commissioned to me. " He kept his chin high, not yielding a step. 

Staying composed and calm was an uneasy task in front of Asgard's most vigilant guardian. Loki had changed since he was a mere child, but something from those days stayed with him in the way he had to crane his neck to look into Heimdall's face. The Asgardian didn't change at all, or so it seemed. He was still an unbreakable mountain, with golden eyes capable of seeing all and knowing all. 

"I won't linger any longer than necessary," Loki added into the silence. "I know I'm not welcome." 

Heimdall took in the young Prince, who had grown strong, despite how cruel life had been to him. Then he turned his all-seeing eyes to you, noting the defiance in your pose, and the tension on your face, as if you were ready to throw fists with him, had the bargaining not worked. And based on the firm grip Loki now had over your shoulder, the Prince was aware of that. 

There was a hint of a smile on Heimdall's face, but it was obscured by the golden helmet and the shadows lurking beneath it. 

"Then go, and be quick about it." 

You cheered and quickly moved to the bridge, but Loki lingered, just a while longer. 

"Why?" he asked, the frown not fully gone from his brows. 

The Gatekeeper moved back to the dais, rising in the center. 

"I serve Asgard, and Asgard I protect," he said. "If war is imminent, I shall spill my share of blood, but if there's a chance to stop it from ever happening, I shall take that chance." 

The Guardian stood tall on the dais, as he did for as long as Loki's memory went, overlooking the portal and all the worlds it opened to. Loki bowed curtly, even though Heimdall's back was to him. The golden armor flared in the rays of the setting sun, but never before had it looked so heavy. 

You waited for him at the bridge, and despite the towers of gold and glass piercing the clouds ahead, they were secondary in your eyes, following Loki's steps instead. 

There was something unwinding in him, as if only then it truly occurred to him where he came back to. He knew that bridge, and the palace shining brightly in the sun heading to rest beyond the shore, and the salty waves that would swallow it in a few hours. Until the very moment his feet hit the bridge, Loki wasn't even aware of the ache deep in his bones that had finally eased. 

He kissed your brow and cast a glamor over both of you. Heimdall might've been forgiving, but the guards stationed at the gates far up ahead likely weren't. 

"Let's go, love," he said, leading you by the hand. 

"Are you sure we won't be noticed? There's nowhere for us to hide on the bridge." 

The waves crashed underneath it, and seagulls screamed overhead as you walked. The glamour made both of you look almost translucent, or at least it did in your eyes. You had no idea if it would work against others, in a world where magic was a common thing. 

Loki pointed ahead, where the guards were stationed at the far end of the bridge. "They have sensors sensitive enough to mark any ounce of magic on travelers."

"Makes sense. What do we do?"

"We shed the glamour." 

You blinked. The seagulls overhead shared your confusion. "Wouldn't that make us visible, though?" 

Mischievous light filled his eyes. "Not if we slip on a secret little passage beneath the bridge beforehand, and only there recall all the magic around us. We wouldn't want to alert anyone, would we?" 

"Oh dear, sounds like someone was a naughty little kid," you laughed. 

"And look at what's become of me. It's a wonder I hadn’t been banished centuries ago." 

"They are idiots for doing that now." 

The sheer conviction in your voice made Loki imagine Odin hearing that from you. You wouldn't balk or juggle around, that he was sure of. And would pay to see that, even if it earned him a few more centuries of banishment. 

The guards were closer now. Loki looked around for the tiny mark on the carved railing he made long ago. 

"Do you trust me?" he whispered in your ear, approaching the railing. The shore was close enough to see the waves crashing down on the blackened rocks, but still not close enough to jump to it. 

You looked down at the foaming chaos of the sea crashing against the pillars and stone. "I mean, I wouldn't trust you with a car, but I literally traveled worlds with you, so I guess I do?" 

"That's fair," he said and jumped over the railing. 

Despite yourself, you rushed to it, half expecting to see his bloodied corpse sprawled over the jagged rocks. The wicked grin on his face told you enough. 

"You're an ass," you growled, quietly enough not to alert the guards posted nearby. 

"You love my ass, don't lie to yourself," Loki reached out to you, urging you down. 

Crawling over the railing wet from the sea mist was not the way you imagined this day to go, but the steady form of Loki waiting below made you a little less nervous as you let go of the cold metal and fell into his arms. 

"Welcome back," the smug bastard dared to smirk at you as he navigated the barely noticeable path over the rocks. 

You noticed the glamour disperse as you neared what would be the gates overhead. The width of the bridge hid you from the guards' eyes though. Loki skittered over the rocks, somehow finding just the right place to step on. 

Despite his grip on you, you couldn't help but wince every time the cold waves crashed beneath you, the mist spraying high. The path was winding and barely noticeable. Every leap between the rocks made you tighten your arms around Loki's shoulders. 

"I know you like to joke around," you managed to say with the heart in your throat, "but please don't fake-fall or something." 

"As you wish." 

The shore neared soon. Sand never felt so much like a blessing than when Loki finally put you down on the steady ground. The cliffs to your left hid you from the guards' outpost, but Loki didn't want to linger there any longer than necessary. The patrols rarely visited the narrow stretch of a beach, but it was not impossible. 

Loki knew every stone and thorny bush on this side of Asgard. He led you up the cliffs hanging high, through a path concealed so much it looked as only the wild prey might've ever used it. You stopped only for a moment, to look over to the sea and the evening reflexes in deep shades of orange and red playing over its surface. 

Loki waited for you a few feet ahead, with an expression you’d rarely seen on him. 

"We'll get in through the stables," he said when you almost reached the top. 

The glamour was back on you as you sprinted through the lush, green fields surrounding the plain in front of long barracks. People were rushing in and out, and no one noticed two additional sets of steps in the loose hay and sand as you snuck inside. 

Most of the boxes were closed already, horses and hunting dogs readied for the night. In one or two you passed by, you could've sworn you'd seen winged creatures, but there was no way of getting close enough to them with so many people around. 

Loki led you out of the stables through a courtyard, to a narrow pathway and up the steps carved in stone to a more pronounced building. The doors were open, but no guards stood the watch there. Coming closer, the smells betrayed the reason. Kitchens, even in another world, always seemed to be a place steaming with sweat, spilled food, and not enough hands to control every pot around. 

Bent low, you followed Loki below the long tables, yielding under the weight of all the dishes prepared. Feet stumped around in a rush, plates landed heavily on the counters, and the absolutely divine smells made your stomach grumble. Loki must've felt the same because his hand reached out for a few freshly baked pastries at the same time as yours, pocketing them with a knowing wink. 

You slipped out into a dim corridor, for the interior use of the kitchens and took the doors to a pantry full of meats and sacks of something stored by the walls. 

In the far corner, Loki moved old, rotting boards to the side and revealed a small, dusty corridor hidden behind them. 

"After you.” He bowed. 

You looked at the webs and thought of their owners. "I'd prefer to stay in the back, if you don't mind." 

He only laughed and broke the thick webs before crawling inside. 

It wasn't long, and soon opened to a winding staircase full of dust and only a few slits instead of windows somewhere ahead allowing the faintest shreds of light inside. 

"A long time ago, part of the kitchens was located upstairs," Loki explained when he sat down on one of the steps. "This was a shortcut used mostly by the kitchen boys who had to run around all day, but it hasn't been used for centuries. I used to hide here with whatever I managed to sneak out of the kitchens." 

"And it looks like you haven't changed much since then," you observed, as you both pulled the pastries from your pockets. Even in the narrow space with little to no fresh air, they still smelled absolutely delicious. 

There were crunching noises as you both devoured them in record time. You hadn’t even noticed how hungry you were until you took that first damned bite. Minutes later, only a few crumbs were left, scattered on the narrow steps below. 

You caught Loki looking at a few stains of old ink that surely none of the kitchen boys had left. 

"So many hours I had spent here, feeling like an outcast among my own family," he said, tracing them with fingers. "And here I am again, as mere outlaw, no closer to them than I ever was. Do you think I'm even capable of changing?" 

There was no sorrow in his voice, not really. Loki had enough time to dwell over the same question over and over again that it no longer bore its initial weight. He was no closer to finding the answer, but at least it no longer hurt. 

Loki didn't budge as you slipped into his lap. He only turned to look at you when your hands cupped his face. 

"You are here, because you made a conscious decision to do everything in your might to prevent that pointless bloodshed and war from happening. You could have ran - look how easy it would be to just sneak out and hide in some remote location far from responsibility. Still, you chose to stay and do your best, and even if that doesn't answer your question directly, I think it's something worth keeping in mind."

Loki didn't answer. The dust in the air turned into gold as it hit the narrow rays of the setting sun. His eyes were closed as he pulled you into a slow, contemplative kiss. 

He had countless memories of the hours spent on that staircase. There were books he had all but devoured, and pages he had reread until he'd had them memorized. There were tiny spells he practiced where nothing would burn or get destroyed by untrained fingers. There were cookies and cakes and sometimes even some wine hidden from all eyes. 

And there was you, in this place of cold stone and times long since gone. Tasting you, Loki was reminded that no matter what the past had brought, the future was still a mystery worthy of waiting for. 

"Thank you," he muttered breathlessly into your lips. 

[scarlettwitcher]

Baby Girl Chapter One

Summary: Y/n tried to avoid her past with a certain Statesmen but when they’re partnered back up for a mission that could cost millions their lives, Y/n must make the right choice. (This is the Kingsman: The Golden Circle movie basically in writing with reader insert. I recommend watching the movie, it’s amazing! It’s on Amazon Prime Video.)

Characters: Agent Whiskey, Agent Gin(Y/n), Tequila, Ginger Ale, Eggsy, Merlin, Champ, Harry, mentions of Poppy, Charlie, and Clara in coming chapters..

Word Count: 2.327

Warnings: Canon typical violence, angst, cursing, fluff here and there, uh guns?

Author’s Note: We’re finally here! I have been working so hard on this series and I have finally finished it! I’m so excited to be sharing this. Shoutout to my lovely @giftofdreams​ for being an amazing beta and friend. Also send my girl @queenxxxsupreme​ some love. After this series, I’ll be working hard on my requests and on my existing August Walker Series. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget it babes. Thanks for all the love I receive daily! If you’d like to be a tag, please send in an ask! As always, thanks for reading, feedback is always welcome/needed. Also, please reblog! I know this fandom is kinda small but I’d love for people to find this fic. I just worked so hard on it and I want it to get the love it deserves. Love to you all!

The loud sound of rain burned into Eggsy’s ears as he stared at the broken-down building in front of him. He didn’t know whether he should scream, cry, or curse anyone who was listening. He looked up to see a black figure walking towards him, holding a black bag. He immediately reacted, pulling out his gun, aiming it straight at his head. As the figure stepped closer, Merlin's face became visible to him but he never lowered his gun. Slowly the both of them started to walk towards each other as Eggsy gripped his gun harder, feeling it's weight get heavier with every step. “Someone decides to wipe out every Kingsman property, every agent, and somehow, conveniently, you weren't at home.”

Neither of them stopped walking towards each other, walking between all of the rubble of Eggsy’s blown up home. “I could say the same thing about you.

Finally, Eggsy stopped when he was a few feet away from Merlin, his voice cracking from emotion. “What, you think I'd kill Roxy? And my mate, Brandon, and my fucking dog?”

“No. You think I would?” Eggsy kept his gun trained on Merlin as he swallowed thickly. Merlin held up the black bag towards him, opening it up and pulling a robotic arm, holding it up. “This thing hacked us. Clearly, this arm can be remotely controlled. I'm only alive because my address wasn't on the database with the agents. Whoever Charlie's working with doesn't think that mere staff are missile-worthy.”

Eggsy scoffed angrily as he lowered his gun, his voice raising an octave. “This ain't funny. Roxy is dead! Everyone's dead! Gone! Do you even care?”

“Pull yourself together. Remember your training. There's no time for emotion in this scenario.” Eggsy nodded quietly in understanding. “Now, as all surviving agents are present, we follow the doomsday protocol. When that's done, and only then… you may shed a tear in private.”

Eggsy sighed deeply as he nodded. The loud sound of thunder echoed between the two men filling in the absence of conversation. The deaths of all the Kingsman weighed heavy on their hearts. “Okay. What's the doomsday protocol?”

“We go shopping.” Both of the men decided to take the night off and try to sleep. It was a restless sleep for both. First thing in the morning, they both headed for Berry Bros & Rudd; Wine merchants. They walked in dressed to the nines. Merlin approached one of the workers. “We're from Kingsman. We'd like to buy some wine and use tasting room number three, please.” The man in the shop nodded quickly, before taking both of them towards the room. The man left, leaving Eggsy and Merlin alone. “Not one of my predecessors has ever been in this situation before. Thank God.” Merlin walked towards a distinctive place in the wall, recognizing a familiar shape. He pulled out a pendant, exactly like one Harry had given Eggsy when he was younger. “A-ha. Remember this?” He showed it to Eggsy who smiled softly, remembering its significance. 

“Yeah, how could I forget?” Eggsy watched as Merlin turned towards the wall, slipping the pendant into the shape, fitting perfectly into the molding. Loud sounds of locks being opened and gears turning filled the room. The wall slid open, revealing a black safe. 

Merlin pointed towards the safe as he spoke to Eggsy. “Whatever's in that safe is the answer to all our problems.” Merlin got to quickly opening the safe. Pulling the door open, his brows furrowed in confusion as he leaned closer to see what he was looking at. “Huh.” He pulled out a bottle of whiskey with clear big letters that read “Statesman” on the front. He showed it to Eggsy who looked confused.

“Is that it?”

“I suppose that must be upper-class humor.” Merlin looked down at the bottle, analyzing it for a few seconds before looking back up to Eggsy. “I don't get it.”

“Me neither. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“I think we should drink a toast to our fallen comrades.” Merlin served both of them cups of the Whiskey. Eggsy grabbed one and held it up towards Merlin as he grabbed his own cup, doing the same. They clinked their cups together. 

“To Roxy.”

“Roxy.” Merlin oohed in admiration of the taste. Eggsy nodded his approval as well as they served another round, doing what they had previously done again. “To Arthur.”

“Arthur.” They both drank their whiskey before Eggsy stopped in thought. “Mmm. Should we do one for JB?”

“I think we should.” Eggsy pulled out a chair, sitting across from Merlin as they poured more whiskey. They took a drink for every fallen Kingsman. Leaving the bottle almost empty, Merlin started to cry, wiping at his eyes in pain with his handkerchief. “I should have seen it coming. Charlie, the taxi. It's all my fault.” Both men had forgone their jackets and glasses as they spoke.

“No, that's bullshit, Merlin. It ain't all your fault. You're the best, bruv. Honestly, without you, I'd have lost it a long time ago.”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Eggsy placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin stayed quiet before reaching for the almost empty bottle. "I think we should drink to Scotland."

Eggsy quickly took the bottle away from Merlin. "I think we've probably had enough, to be honest." He analyzed the bottle as Merlin cleaned his glasses. 

"You're probably right." Eggsy stared at the bottle. Looking closer he saw a small print at the bottom of the back of the sticker, 'Distilled in Kentucky'. The K looked very familiar to him before it clicked. 

"Merlin."

"Aye?"

"I think we're going to Kentucky."

"Fried Chicken? I love fried chicken."

"No, proper Kentucky. Look." Eggsy placed the bottle on the table as Merlin slipped his glasses on. 

"You know what else I love? Country and western music." Before Eggsy could say anything, Merlin started to sing. Eggsy was annoyed but listened quietly anyways. "Country roads, Take me home, To the place I belong.." The boys moved quickly, getting what few things they had left before flying over to the distillery. They noticed a tour happening as they arrived and they followed behind as the woman spoke. She didn't let them into a large warehouse, explaining something about how the temperature is perfect for the barrels and both men stopped. Eggsy scanned the door with his watch, nodding towards it. 

"Biometric security scanner just to protect a few old barrels of whiskey? Pull the other one, love." 

Merlin fiddled with his tablet as Eggsy watched him. "Got it." The door slid open behind Eggsy. They looked around before skidding in. Eggsy kept his hand up with his watch, surveying the area. They looked around amazed at all of the giant barrels. 

"Are you getting anything?"

"Not yet."

"Fucking hell."

"It's a shame it's not scotch." Merlin's tablet started to beep loudly. "Hang on." He looked at the image, showing underneath them was the base. "According to this, there's a huge underground structure right beneath us." Merlin walked quickly to the end to place his tablet down, grabbing an axe placed lazily on the side. "And if my calculations are correct…" He moved towards the main barrel in the middle, holding the axe tightly. "This is the way in." Without a second thought, Merlin hit the wall with all his strength, denting and making a hole on the barrel. Whiskey gushed out of it and both men panicked. 

"Fucking hell, Merlin. Shit." Merlin moved quickly, covering the hole with his hand. 

“You know, my mama, she always told me us southerners get our good manners from the British.” A man slowly walked towards them, holding a shotgun loosely in his hand as it rested on his shoulder. Eggsy tried to act casual, crossing his arms and leaning on the barrel as Merlin kept his hand on the hole he created. “I was thinkin', ain't that a pity. Y'all kept nothing for yourselves. Y'all ain't never heard of knocking before you enter?” The man turned his head slightly, smirking before spitting to his left. 

“Well, actually we had an invitation. Didn't we?” Eggsy looked over at Merlin as he nodded quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, did you now?” The man watched them unamused.

“Yeah. It came in the shape of a bottle. We're from the Kingsman tailor shop in London. Maybe you've heard of us?”

“Oh, the Kingsman.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. That's where y'all got them fine suits and them fancy spectacles y'all got on?” The man pointed towards them with the end of the shotgun, acting like he knew what they were saying was enough.

“Exactly.” Merlin nodded his head enthusiastically, almost as if he hoped they made the right decision. 

“That's right.”

“Y'all look damn sharp. Let me see if I got it right, here. You want me to believe that it's normal for a tailor to hack through an advanced biometric security system with nothing but a little bitty old watch on?” Eggsy clenched his jaw nervously as Merlin frowned. They were starting to realize their name meant nothing. Merlin looked over at Eggsy with concern as Eggsy rolled his eyes, staring the man down.  “I can promise you,” The man grabbed his shotgun, loading it as he twirled it effortlessly in his hand, aiming it at both of them. “That dog don't hunt.” With the shotgun, he motioned for both of them to get down. “So why don't you go on and get down on your knees and tell me who you really work for.” 

Eggsy raised his eyebrows, mocking the man before looking over at Merlin tight-lipped, as Merlin nodded, silently saying, ‘okay, you asked me to’. He removed his hand as the barrel started to leak again, dropping whiskey all over the floor. The man quickly sucked up some saliva, spitting it across the way on the hole, covering it perfectly.  Eggsy looked at Merlin with disgust before turning back towards the man with the same expression. “That's 1963 Statesman Reserve. You just made it personal.”

The man walked towards both of them, as they ran towards him at the same time as well. Eggsy raised his fist, ready to punch but the man ducked and hit him in the back with the shotgun. Merlin lunged for him next. The man hit him in the abdomen, looping his arm around Merlin’s and used his body weight to throw him against the barrel, knocking him out cold. Eggsy took out his gun but the man used the shotgun to trap his arm between his body and the shotgun before swinging it around and smacking it out of his hand with his shotgun. The momentum of the hit threw Eggsy on his knees as he swung the shotgun into his ribs, swinging it the other way around. Eggsy blocked the hit but still groaned in pain as the hit threw him against the barrel. The man pinned Eggsy’s arm with his shotgun before moving quickly to flip through Eggsy’s watch until he found the stun option. He pulled Eggsy off of the barrel and angled it so he shot himself with the dart. Eggsy stared at him in surprise as the man smirked. Eggsy moved to touch his neck where the dart was as he went limp on his legs. “Who the fuck are you?” Eggsy stepped back once before falling onto his back, blacking out quickly like Merlin. 

“You’re right. You are getting better Tequila, almost as good as me.” The man, Tequila, looked up to the left where you slowly stepped out of the shadows. You licked your lips as you walked over to the limp bodies on the floor. You bent down beside Eggsy and reached out, touching his watch admiring the technology. “I guess you didn’t need me after all.” 

Tequila smiled and shook his head as he nudged Merlin with his foot. “Now darlin’, don’t say that. You know I love having you around.”

“Well, duh. I’m a fucking catch.” Tequila laughed out at your comment before moving to grab Merlin, throwing him over his shoulder as he motioned towards Eggsy with a nod of his head. 

“Can you handle him?” You frowned and shook your head. You were smaller than Eggsy and even though you were strong, you weren’t that strong. 

“I can drag him.” You grabbed his arms and slowly pulled him towards the real elevator, dragging him inside as you huffed. He was heavy. Tequila laughed as he watched you and you glared at him. 

“Did you hear?”

“What?”

“Whiskey might be coming down this weekend. Something about a meeting.” You visibly tensed as you clenched your jaw. You took a deep breath as Tequila watched you concerned.

“I didn’t know. How long?” You didn’t even realize you whispered this until Tequila reached over pulling you into his arms. The big lug basically swallowed you in his big arms but you didn’t care. You wrapped an arm around his waist before letting out a shaky breath. 

“Just for the weekend. Has he tried to talk to you?” You shook your head as the elevator stopped, indicating you were on the floor you needed. “Good. How about we go to that restaurant I told you about?”

“Sounds nice Tequila. We’ll take Ginger. She’s really been wanting to go there.”

“It’s a date.” You giggled at his remark. You grabbed Eggsy once more, slowly dragging him towards the interrogation room you had. Once Tequila secured Merlin into his chair, Tequila moved quickly, securing Eggsy beside him. You sat in the far side of the room as Tequila took his place in front of the both of them, leaning on the table. He licked his lips, trying not to show how much he would enjoy this as he leaned over, slapping the both of them out of their unconsciousness. This was going to be fun.

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling @dancingalone21 @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @lovebodymindstuff @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @chook007 @akshi8278 @evansrogerskitten @bringmesomepie56 @persephonehemingway @blacktithe7 @donnaintx @queenxxxsupreme @whitewolfandthefox @riviawitch3r

Kingsman/Agent Whiskey Tags:  @thesadvampire @le-roman-rose @mcudisiac @someone-take-my-bagelseverywhere @chibi-liz05 @marvel-avengers01 @themandjalorian @floccodineveautunnale @jassiepoohbear @gollyderek @retrobhaddie @wolf-lover74

[darkelfshadow]

Session Summary - 98

AKA “The Fallen”

Adventures in Taggriell

Session 98  (Date: 13th November 2020)

Players Present:

- Rob (Known as “Varis”) Elf Male.

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor) Dwarf Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Trenchant”) Human Male.

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male.

- John (Known as “Ragnar”) Dwarf Male.

Absent Players

- Nil

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by Travis>

Summary

- Moonday, 15th Desnus in the year 815 (Second Era). Summer.

- The party begin this session, having just arrived at Kranun’s Crater, observing a small group of Orcs seated around a campfire and a large group of Dragon Cultists.

- The five Orcs appeared relaxed and unconcerned. The Cultists however appeared alert and focused. A purple robed female officer, sits atop a muscular looking Wyvern.

- This must be Ixusaxa Terrorsong that the party were informed of. The rest of the Cultists are lead by a Dragonsoul, two Dragonfangs, and twelve Dragonwings. Two Guard Drakes are pulling a cart with a large barrel on it.

- Trenchant uses magic to change the appearance of the party to that of a group of Orcs and their Direwolves. They approach the Orcs on “guard” around the camp fire and demand to be let in to join. The Orcs refuse and unsure of what to do at this situation, send one of them away to get further help.

- This unusual occurrence, the squabbling by two different Orc Tribes, the Burning Banner and the Red Fangs (the Tribal name chosen by Trenchant) intrigues Ixusaxa. To her knowledge the Burning Banner lead by the Orog Narle Shieldbiter, is the only Tribe around these parts. Ixusaxa’s suspicions grow when thinking what she knows about the Red Fangs of Shargaas. Worshippers of Shargaas, the Orc God of darkness, stealthiness, thievery and the necromancy.

- A group such as this, appearing now, fells wrong to Ixusaxa. She flies her faithful Wyvern closer to observe the disturbance. She attempts to cast a Detect Magic spell, but then one of the new Orcs starts jumping about and screaming. Her spell is countered! Furious, knowing no mere Orc could do this, she flies her Wyvern closer still, landing on one the larger rock formations closet to these new Orcs. Trenchant eyes her carefully, as it was his disguised and hidden performance, that countered her spell.

- The party, all still disguised as Red Fang Orcs, move closer to the camp and Orcs, whilst another group of Orcs appears from an unseen hole in the ground. Now ten Orcs stand and challeng the disguised party. Trenchant, is now engaged in a one on one heated exchange, versus one of the new Orcs, a large commander.

- During this exchange, Ixusaxa once again casts Detect Magic and sees to her alarm and surprise the bright glow of multiple magic sources covering these new “Orcs”, and in particular a extremely bright glow coming from the head of one “Orc”. Unknown to Ixusaxa this glow is coming from the powerful artefact of the Black Dragon Mask worn by Sir Krondor.

- Ixusaxa immediately launches her Wyvern into the air shouting, “A trap! Kill them all ….”

- But before she can finish her command, a single expertly aimed arrow plunges into her heart. Her lifeless body then falls to the ground, as a satisfied looking Varis slightly loweres his bow, admiring his shot.

- Mayhem brakes out. Quickly Trenchant casts a Mass Suggestion spell on all the Orcs and luckily or by the grace of the gods, all the Orcs succumb to the Spell. The party, still disguised as Orcs, now have all the real Orcs under their control to fight for them against the Cult. The Cult now just sees a large group of Orcs all turn on them, and start to attack.

- The battle is now on. Dragonwing Enforcers leap from rocky boulder to rocky boulder, keeping cover, until they can get into position to attack. The Dragonsoul and Dragonfangs, leap forward and immediately start throwing Orbs of Acid at the Orcs, real Orcs and disguised party alike.

- The Guard Drakes bite off the leather harness attaching them to the cart and then begin to race around the side of the combat and towards the far side.

- The enraged Wyvern begins attacking indiscriminately, its poisonous stinger proving deadly and killing Orc after Orc.

- The party move forward, engaging the Dragon Enforcers one by one. Blade, arrow and spell dropping foe after foe whilst the party ignore any injuries received.

- The air around the battle changes, the sound dimming, almost as in fear. A form emerges from the hole in the ground, slowly and without any care of the enemies or battle around it. Shrouded in a full plate armour, with a purple cloak flowing behind it, as if moving from unseen winds. The head of the figure is fully covered in a metal helm, but two red glowing points of light emerge where the eyes should be.

- A deep voice, filled with anger and vengeance, and a confidence born of absolute devotion and power sounds from the helm, “My faith is my armour.” Glowing sigils appear all over the armour, and the air around the figure appears to bend and warp, affecting light itself.

- The figure holds out its right hand, black mist appearing from its hand as the mist begins condensing into a large great sword. The deep voice speaks again, “My sword cuts down the unfaithful.”

- With a slow assured gait, moving onwards, like a river that pushes aside all in its path, the figure moves towards Gim. The red glowing eyes lock onto Gim, the figure raising its great sword up as if in a mock salute to Gim who is disguised as an Orc, and the voice speaks one final time, “By the will of Tiamat. I serve.” The red eyes seem to stare directly at Gim, seeing him for true, past the illusion.

- Sweat starts to pour down Gim’s face, looking at this thing approach him.

- Those words, somehow the words are familiar to others in the party. Trenchant, Labarett and Sir Krondor look over to at the new figure, terror at the sight of it but also something about those words sends shivers down their spines. All three have heard words spoken before, long ago, similar words but different. The memory eludes them yet it scares them to their core.

- Fear extends from the new figure, affecting those around it.

- Gim raises his great sword up but before he can even think to block, the figure moves, faster than it seems possible. The dark great sword held in the figure’s hand, black mist swirling around it, moves with a blur. The blade strikes again and again, cutting into Gim, and with each strike a flash of purple light erupted from the Divine Smite.

- Gim’s head reels as he is brought down to his knees from the force of the blows. Regaining his senses, he leapes up and swings his enchanted great sword Narhethi at the figure in plate mail but the blade is turned aside at the last second by some arcane shielding surrounding the figure. With more determination, Gim pushes on, his great sword swinging into the figure with all his might. This time the blade strikes true and hits the helmet of foe with full force. Gim watches with satisfaction as the helmet cracks and then shatters into purple light and mist, exposing the “head” within. A dark mist, formed into the shape of head, with two red pulses orbs for the eyes, stares back at Gim.

- Ragnar’s skin crawls as he realises what stands before them. He shouts out a warning to Gim, “That’s a Fallen Paladin! A vessel for a God! A Champion Of Tiamat!”

- Gim, stepping slightly back, shouts back in anger, “His armour is stopping my sword’s power!”

- Trenchant moving closer, shouts, “The armour glows with sigils whenever you strike it! It must be warded from magic.”

- Sir Krondor, climbing over some rocks to get to his cousin, shouts, “Then we do this the old fashioned way!”

- The battle continues. Chaos and destruction rages. Trenchant calls upon his most powerful magics, creating a Stinking Cloud upon the battle to keep a large portion of the Dragonwing Enforcers out of the battle, and animating to life a number of rocks and boulders to smash into their foes.

- Gim bravely stands his ground versus the Champion Of Tiamat but he can not match the power inflicted by the Fallen Paladin. He is soon knocked to the ground, bleeding to death. Sir Krondor, enraged by the sight of his cousin laying on the ground, rushes up to the Champion and fights the foe. Labarett too has joined the battle, climbing into a higher position on the rocks and attacks the Champion. The Champion turns his attention to Labarett next and begins inflicting serious injury upon the raging Barbarian.

- Varis rains arrows into the battle, each expertly placed, his assassin training kicking in. Naillae, staying back, rushes forward, throws a well placed and well need dagger, before quickly retreating back to safety near Varis.

- Ragnar too is casting spells, inflicting damage upon the enemies and creating a swathe of destruction and death on the battlefield.

- Just as Sir Krondor and Labarett think they have gotten the upper hand on the Champion, their concentrated attacks having dealt enormous damage on the Champion, their hope turns to despair when they see the Champion heal himself when he places one of his hands onto his chest, and use the divine power of Lay On Hands.

- Sir Krondor, sweat and blood pouring down his scared faced and into his beard, looks at the dying unconscious body of his cousin Gim. He swings his battle axe in a threatening manner at the Champion, speaking in a deadly voice, “Labarett, get to Gim and spare his life. This son of bitch is mine!” and then the Dwarf Knight leaps into ferocious battle.

- The Wyvern, having flown over to the abandoned cart and having taken a firm hold of the barrel, is now flying away from the battle in the direction of Phlan. Trenchant launches himself into the air, enchanted with the power of Flight, and starts to head towards the Wyvern until he hears a shout from Varis.

- “Leave the Wyvern to me, Trenchant. Do something about that dam Champion before he kills everyone!” shouts Varis.

- Trenchant watches the Wyvern fly away as Varis aims his bow at the creature. Trenchant flies straight down towards the Champion his arms outstretched.

- Naillae, crouched down behind a small boulder, sees what Trenchant is doing and stands up in shock, “What is he doing? Is he trying to lift that armoured warrior into the sky!”

- Trenchant reaches the Champion and then attempts to grab onto the foe.

- Varis quickly rushes over to Naillae, “Don’t worry about that idiot, worry about us!” As he says this, two Guard Drakes leap towards Naillae and Varis, and force the pair into close combat.

- Trenchant slips behind the unaware Champion and places both his arms around the torso of the foe and then immediately flies upwards into the air. The Champion, taken completely unaware, tries to free himself but can not. Once Trenchant has gained some height, he tries to let go of his cargo, and the Champion realises too late the danger he is in. He slips from Trenchant’s grasp and falls to the ground, to smash into the ground with a sickening crash of broken metal. The Champion falls directly into the Stinking Cloud that Trenchant summoned before, and is unable to raise, the enchanted area affecting him.

- Within the Cloud is now the Champion and a handful of Dragonwing Enforcers. Ragnar hurls a Fireball into the Cloud, indiscriminately burning everything within. Trenchant too directs his animated rocks and boulders to smash into everything within the Cloud. Dragonwing Enforcers are blasted away by fire and rocks and the Champion too, already badly wounded, is finally destroyed. With a blast of force, the Champion explodes in a purple flash, his armour and weapon dissolving back into mist. The wave of force dissolves the Stinking Cloud.

- The party now mop up the remaining enemy forces. The fleeing Wyvern is killed by Varis’s arrows, but in the process the barrel it was carrying was dropped to the ground, smashing it open and losing all it’s silvery liquid to the dirt.

- The party pause and catch their breath, regrouping. Gim is brought back to unconscious with some of his wounds healed thanks to a healing spell by Labarett. Slowly, the party walk past the scene of devastation, past the dozens of dead bodies, and make their way to the edge of the crater to look down.

- The massive crater descends about two hundred feet below, a set of stone steps spiralling around the inside wall the entire way down. Two ledges can be seen set into the wall, one close to the top and one half way down. A massive open entrance can be seen near the bottom of the crater, with a wide stone ladder leading to it. A stone building is visible on the floor of the crater, set within small shrubs and the broken ground. A series of stone pillars form circle on the crater floor but it appears that a recent impact has destroyed one of the pillars and formed a small indentation within the crater. This indentation has a small quantity of silvery liquid still visible, but it would appear from the discoloured earth that at some stage the entire indentation had been filled with the liquid.

<And as the badly injured party contemplate how to proceed, whether through the dark hole that the enemy forces came from, or to descend into the crater, that is the end of the session.>

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- “Stolen Radiance” - Recover the barrel safely from the Cult = FAIL

Creatures Overcome

- Orcs = 500 XP

- Orc Berserkers = 600 XP

- Orc Commanders = 2200 XP

- Ixusaxa Terrorsong (Cult Officer) = 2300 XP

- Wyvern = 2300 XP

- Guard Drakes = 900 XP

- Dragonsoul (4th Rank Enforcer) = 2900 XP

- Dragonfangs (3rd rank Enforcer) = 3600 XP

- Dragonwings (2nd rank Enforcer) = 5400 XP

- Champion Of Tiamat (Fallen Paladin) = 3900 XP

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

Nil

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start +  Received = Total  (Notes)

Rob : 127249 + 3186 = 130435

Arthur : 101707 + 3186 = 104893

John : 97276 + 3186 = 100462 (Level up to Level 12)

Travis : 116899 + 3186 = 120085 (Level up to Level 13)

Paul : 106382 + 3186 = 109568

Bob : 117540 + 3186 = 120726 (Level up to Level 13)

NPC (Naillae) : + (1593)

[doctolka]

Intro to New WIP: The War of the Shadows Book 1

This is my last post tonight, I *promise*. I'm out of coffee and excerpts that make sense out of context. The former is probably going to be more influential....

Anyway, this is the opening scene (currently) of my new WIP, which takes places several hundred years prior to the other one (yeah, that one's still not done. I know), during the fabled War of the Shadows. It introduces the root causes of some of the disagreements and problems in the modern, and was actually the first plot I built for Adoana... So without further ado....

A Guide to Adoana...

Note: I'm leaving off the taglist for Adoana, since this is technically a new WIP and I don't like assuming people are on board... so if you want me to make a taglist for this, and want to be on it, do let me know!

It was a dark summers night when the first of the band began to arrive in the pre-ordained clearing. Chismos shone darkly overhead, the barest glimmer of its swirling blue light breaking in through the treetops. They had chosen this location well; they did not wish to be disturbed this night. It was an assured place, safe from prying eyes, and far enough away from the city walls that even the sharpest-eyed soldier in the highest tower would not see their meeting had they been looking straight at it.

They were very self-assured, these cultists, as they filed into the clearing, each bearing their respective talismans and rune-inscribed voidglass. This one was from the city, look at all his rings, glittering in the light of the candle he brought about; many cultists only used the finest candles. That one was a poor farmer, though his face lay hidden like the rest by a deep cowl, his rough hands worrying the rounded wooden bowls he held. That trio, warming their hands over a small brazier, they were merchants, their charges already placed: a stark white blanket, soon to be red, covered a set of folding desks; a set of seven voidglass-covered boards sat waiting, with a stack of parchment and charcoal beside.

The final two of the ranks entered the circle of dim light with heavy burlap sacks over their shoulders. They were contacts, the face of the organization that worked with the various undergrounds in the region: a supply of bodies, both warm and long cold, was always a profitable venture. This night, only on of the sacks contained a body as they emptied them onto the ground.

She was a fair maiden, long of hair and thin of bodice, a light green chemise. Likely she had been taken from her bedchambers, hoisted out after drinking carefully drugged water, or after a sharp knock on the head. The two contacts lifted her up to the prepared table, then began to distribute the tools of their trade: colored powders for the fires, some mixed with an incense that would drive those near the brazier to intoxication and even greater fervor than they could get into without it. The woman, directly next to the fire, would be driven to the brink of insanity, if not past it, her mind shattered by the sudden influx of alchemical magics, and leave perfect roosting ground for the beast the cultists were so eager to summon away from prying eyes.

Had they the care to look upward, however, they might have seen that there were indeed eyes to pry, several of them, in fact, perched like so many awkward birds amongst the long limbs of the trees.

Like birds they had feathers, poking out this way and that, in such a way that the trees might have had more fletching in them than leaves, so stuffed were their quivers. And all their bows were held ready to draw, heads already aligned with their targets; all that remained now was for the cultists to begin, and signal their watchers that all members were present.

As if on cue, the man with many ringlets marched to the head of the group, so that a line drawn connecting them all would make a fine teardrop, seven paces tall and four wide, with a sacrifice in the middle. He raised his sparkling hands high, beginning a low, sonorous chanting which the rest took up just after. His hands were filled with the dyes, secreted safely in pouches to burn in the fire. Marcus drew his fletching to his jaw with a creaking of bowstrings about him. The man tilted an arm back to throw as he inhaled, and Marcus released just as the man’s arm began whipping forward.

A burst of yellow powder was quickly followed by a less vibrant burst of red as the long, blade-shaped arrowhead split the man’s hood and temple. A cacophony of surprised shouts and screams rose underneath them as the hail of arrows rained down, each striking true as a mounted troop jogged into the clearing, lances high.

Some few dismounted, drawing their swords, while the rest rode about, back into the woods to harry the cultists back into the hellfire of the clearing. They were a motley assortment, their arms and armor as mismatched as if they were but farmers. Which, after a fashion, they were. Or had once been.

Marcus nocked and loosed again, choosing this time on of the contacts as he slipped past the ring of steel toward the untended horses. He fell with no fewer than four arrows through his chest—or rather her chest, her hood falling back as she fell—and plenty other littered the ground where she had once stood.

For a battle, it was silent, a ritual for the hunters just so much as it had been a ritual for the cultists. Stalk, ambush, kill. Rinse and repeat. That’s what Marcus had done for well over two years now, and many of his comrades even longer. With exception of the screams of the cultists, and the occasional grunt by a hunter as one turned to fight, it was quiet. No shouting orders, no horns or drums or horses galloping across a field.

It was, to put it bluntly, a massacre.

Tirosh dropped to the ground just as Marcus did, drawing his long hunting knife even though the fighting was wrapping up. He was a King’s Ranger, on loan along with a couple of others from King Relnero of Corval to help bolster their numbers. Fredrick was fighting to drive all of these witches out of the man’s kingdom, after all.

There was one cultist left standing as the rest of the bowmen slipped from their trees, dueling with one of their own. No one stepped in to help; Marion had it well under control, even though the last of the contacts was clearly trained. She was an expert duelist—she even entered in tournaments, sometimes—and even with her arming sword against the other’s longsword, it was clear to all that she was, once again, playing with the kill. Some of the men contended that she was really an Other-Kin, a Skin-Changer, and that’s why she acted the way she did, sometimes, but never within her hearing.

They twirled about each other, not in the dance that some poets call swordplay, but in the manner in which a caged wolf might stalk, and the way a deer might flee a hunter. Marion deflected thrusts and slashes alike calmly, letting them get almost close enough to her to hit before sweeping them aside. Finally, she deflected a straight thrust from the man, aimed high for her should, and swung around the outside of his sword arm, inserting her blade easily between his ribs and sliding it out in one quick pirouette. He had time to look down at the hole in his side before he fell; she had sliced both lungs and punctured his heart.

She wiped her blade on the man’s cloak as he gurgled the last of his life away. “That was entertaining,” she said lightly, returning the blade to its sheathe at her side, ornately worked with a red rose. “But why didn’t one of you louts see to the girl?”

“Just wanted to make sure that bastard didn’t have any tricks up his sleeve,” Fredrick growled. He always growled, though he was not an unkind man. “All you need is one time meeting someone as good as you out here to end the game, one for all.”

He was one of the few people who could get away with talking to Marion like that. Isaiah was another, but he was the one who healed their wounds and crafted their antidotes and poisons. He could talk to Fredrick like he was some lost puppy and get away with it. Not that he did, of course, but that did not mean he could not.

“And what of the rest of these, eh? You’d just trip over each other!” she returned, speaking first to Fredrick and then to all of them, sweeping out one long arm in a great arc. “Go see to the girl, and make sure all the fuckers are dead!

Marcus and Tirosh were the closest to the table and Marcus hid a grin from his companion as they loped over. He hated checking the pulses of the cultists. It was one thing to shoot a man, and another thing entirely to feel a man’s pulse and plunge a sword through his chest because of it. He supposed there was a mercy in it—they were almost always too wounded to survive—but it was a cruel sort of mercy, the kind that made him feel black inside, as though he were no better than these cultists that worshipped the Shadow. He checked the woman’s pulse while Tirosh gently checked to see if she was wounded; just because they hadn’t seen any wounds from the treetops didn’t mean they didn’t exist. More than once they’d rescued a victim only for them to die later on from some wound or poison they had overlooked.

Tirosh nodded his beak-like nose as he finished his assessment; the woman would be fine, when she woke. There wasn’t so much the question of if she would wake, since the incense had never made the brazier, though it was a consideration. Together the lifted the lady—who else would have dyed bedclothes? —as gently as they could from the table and tipped her up onto Fredrick’s stallion, Bright-eye. He always like to carry the victim back to safety, to Isaiah’s caring hands, even if they arrived too late. Something about it being his responsibility. He had a lot of those.

“Mount up, folks,” Fredrick called as Hisam and Regenor returned to the clearing, “I mean to be back in a warm bed by sunrise!”

Some of the men laughed at that, a rough, raucous laughter of men used to death, but still uncomfortable with it. At least the cultists hadn’t had a battlemage with them, or a medium such as a wand or staff. Only a week ago, they’d lost ten men in a raid much like this one because of a fellow with a wand. Isaiah had it now, though he was uncomfortable with the thing—he didn’t much care for violence.

As much as Fredrick wanted to be back into a town by sunrise, he didn’t make them push their horses. Fredrick didn’t make them do much of anything, really. He planned and organized their raids, and led them in that regard, put the time between raids was their own. There was nothing binding them to the party, save for the bounties.

Under typical circumstances, witch hunters like themselves would be under suspicious eye at the best from the law. Some kingdoms made them bring some witness or other—a sheriff or detective, typically—but in Corval the custom was to bring back the thumbs; the king would not stand for witches within his borders, and didn’t much care if they were caught in the act or ambushed in the streets: he would pay the bounty.

Fredrick’s group didn’t need to do that any longer—and each and every one of them thanked the ancestors for it; it was a most gruesome task—since they’d been personally tasked with removing even the slightest vestige of the ‘infestation,’ as the chamberlain had but it. Fredrick fell on the task with vigor.

They walked through the early morning, dew falling and fog rising as they worked their way out of the woods. Fredrick trotted on ahead, taking with him a good three quarters of their number, but Marcus was in no hurry, nor did it seem that Tirosh was. Though many of them thought the cultists less than human for what they did, some needed time after raids to come to terms with themselves. That category marked a significant group; the new had no trouble, or at least feigned not having it, and they passed on ahead with nary a glance to a side; the old had already come to terms, and had been for years. They had no need for quiet plodding. No, the ones that lagged behind were the ones that were old enough to recognize what they had done, but not quite seasoned enough to simply brush it away.

Marcus grabbed his reigns from Isaiah, swinging into the roan’s saddle with practiced ease. He had ridden a lot growing up, once he had gotten off the streets. It was one of his few comforts on the estates of Lord Darius Tyldian, one of the few things he could do without being watched by a half-dozen servants and guards. It was quite difficult to steal a horse, after all, from a walled-in area. Word had come recently of the odious man’s death. There were no estates waiting for him—for which he was eternally grateful and simultaneously put out—as they had all gone to his sister, an equally odious individual.

He fingered the sword laced to the saddle horn as he walked the horse through the mists. It wouldn’t be long now before they started north again, nearly to the border with Salos. They would have to be careful up there, more so than usual, since the mountain passes offered little in terms of cover, and even less in terms secrecy.

“So how’s the lass look?” Henrik asked, walking his horse beside Isaiah’s—to whom the girl had been transferred.

“Not terribly well, I’m afraid,” Isaiah said in his usual timid manner. “I don’t quite know what to make of it, for certain… I can’t say she’s been drugged, but nor can I say she hasn’t been! A typical bump on the head would leave signs, which I haven’t seen, so they must be using some sort of toxin of which I’m unfamiliar, I think, but there really never is telling with witches whathas been done. You follow?”

“Aye. That I do, at least in part,” the burly Sundlander said, combing his bushy blond beard with thick fingers, “You’re saying these witches is up to no good, that’s what you’re saying!” he finished with a bark. There was nothing much that could keep Henrik’s spirits down for long. No one was really sure why he stayed back with the mourners.

Isaiah shook his head. He knew Henrik was joking—he had to, he’d known the man for some two odd years running—but sometimes the man’s disposition got under his skin—especially when he had a patient he didn’t know what to do with. “Even the dullest of dimwits could tell you that, Henrik, and gladly pass along their title to you,” Tirosh interjected, earning a relieved grin from Isaiah. He might be as dour as could be from a man, but he was a good one, and of sharp tongue to boot.

Henrik’s scowl melted to a wide grin moments later, his feigned hurt evaporating like the morning mist under a hot summer sun. “Aye. That I could tell myself, though I haven’t any idea about handing a mantle to myself—waste of energy, if’n you ask me.” He wasn’t slow—though some considered him to be, as much due to his heritage as to his demeanor—and he always had a clever quip coming to deflect any real hurts.

Marcus tipped his head back as they continued to banter amongst themselves, gazing up at the stars that glimmered through the trees overhead. This was what life was supposed to be, minus the killing; walking through the woods with nary a care in world, surrounded by friends… too few people experienced such freedom. What would the world be like if more people were allowed to live happily?

Speculation and philosophy never got him anywhere. Too many ifs and buts; too many unknowns. Likely there would be just as many depraved sorts as there were now, if not more, what with those too lazy to work even for themselves. That was what was said, anyway, though usually by the people doing the whipping. It was almost ironic in that one of the few areas where all people, no matter their walk of life, were equal was within covens.

Not all covens were bad, despite what Fredrick would have a man believe. Marcus had run into the first kind some time before joining up with Fredrick, though it had been an incident with the second that lead him to fall in. The first kind he wouldn’t overly mind joining when he grew too old to hunt the others; they were a kindly, peaceful people, so much so that neither beast or Other-Kin would trouble them. They lived secluded lives, unlike the second kind—the killingkind.

The second kind was worth eradicating. They were named Cultists of the Shadow, politely, and witches when safest from their cursing. They lived in the cities and towns, they could be a man’s neighbor without him knowing… at least until he ended up a sacrifice for their dark god.

That was where Marcus had found himself, a year ago now, in the same place this woman had found herself in this night. He had spent the evening with a farmer on his way back to Marasol after his horse bolted with all his belongings; he’d mucked out his very first pigpen for his board, and found his bed instead being a cold wooden slab in the middle of the forest.

He attributed his survival in no small part to the incompetency of his captors, but mostly to the timely arrival of Fredrick and his band—not so differently from the raid tonight, in fact. That was how a sad majority of them got into the business, it seemed. Victims turned vigilantes, as some put it. Whether they’d found themselves on a cutting table, or next to an incensed brazier, or whether they’re home had been burnt down, or their village victim of an unnatural plague; they all had some grievance or other with the cultists. Few were those who could stay without a firm, personal vendetta.

[mrneighbourlove]

Wake Up Leere

A Sequel to Evil’s Bane. Happy Halloween!

“Wake up Leere. Please wake up. We need you.”

~

“NOOOOO!!!”

Leere Dragmire rose from her bed awake in startled manner, gasping for air after screaming furiously. There was so much rage in her heart, and she had no idea why. Taking a few moments to breath and lower her heart rate down, Leere finished off with a little chant to herself. “No worse shadows than the ones that come from closing your eyes. You’ve had enough sleep for the day.”

Throwing her feet off the bed, she leapt off to get changed. Sunny must have already awoken for work around the ranch. Getting dressed, Leere walked to her office door, only to find it locked. “Oh, come on.”

Fiddling with the lock, Leere started to get frustrated. She told her daughter in the past to never lock her out of her office. “Alright now Joy, open up. If I have to come in after you, I’m going to be very upset.”

She knocked on the door a few times. When no answer came, Leere decided to peer through the lock hole. Maybe her daughter wasn’t in there after all and the door just happened to be malfunctioning. Bending down to look through the lock, Leere was met with the ghostly image of herself looking right back at her. This startled the woman to jump back. “What the hell?!”

To make matters worse, the ghostly version of herself walked through the door to smile down at her. “Finally awake? Good morning Leere.”

Leere’s first instinct was to try and bind the ghost with her magic, but it wasn’t working. “Stay back spirit!”

“Leere. You can stop that. Your magic isn’t going to work here.”

The Sage was reluctant to listen, but the results were speaking for themselves. “What do you want with me? Who are you and why do you look like me?”

The ghost Leere rubbed her chin, nodding along. “All good questions. As for why and who, that’s simpler to answer. I am the angel of purgatory, Katha. The form I take is one that mortals can easily process. Themselves.”

“Purgatory?” Leere started to feel sick. “Wait. That’d mean I’m…”

Katha looked at the door and opened it open. What as on the other side was not Leere’s office, but instead a block of town covered in a deep, deep foreboding fog. “Come with me Leere Dragmire.”

Once again, the Sage was reluctant, but didn’t see other alternatives. Stepping out of her room, Leere breathed in the fog. It tasted oddly like her sister in law’s cotton cherry candy. “Why-?”

“Does it taste like something slightly tasty when you breath in the fog? The fog wants you to grow comfortable here. I rather you not.”

The town blocks Leere and Katha walked through had small businesses on the sides, or three-story rooming. Everything was tight together, but even so Leere could only make out a building when it was 15ft in front of her. Clearing her throat, she asked the question anyone with mortality feared. She’d seen it enough from spirits she communicated with in the past. “Am I dead?”

Katha turned to her with a straight face. Were they mad? It was frightening to see her own blood-soaked face look at her like that. “No. Not yet.”

Arriving at a bench, Katha took a seat, urging Leere to join them. When both of them sat down, Katha let out a sigh. “You are a very special case Leere Dragmire. It seems every spirit wants you. Ba’puu wants you back alive and going back to protecting Hyrule. Zarazu and some of the other gods think you’ve put in enough time in protecting the world, should stop cheating death, and let your soul be reincarnated so that the next shadow sage can be selected amongst the mortals.”

“My sister in law wants me dead?”

“No, no, no. The actual goddess of death Zarazu.” Katha waved their hand to dismiss the silly thought. “Heaven and Hell both want you dead and in their possession. Yet you’ve hung on thanks to your own stubbornness and those of your friends.”

“If I’m not dead, then why am I here?”

“Sorry, I have to tip toe around this, because if you remember too quickly, we’ll kickstart events far too quickly.” As Leere raised an eyebrow at them, Katha continued without breaking pace. “In this realm, most of the time, I look after souls who are so damaged, so broken by the circumstances of their deaths they are too weak to linger on the living world as spirits, but not ready to go to a Heaven or Hell yet. Sometimes, there are souls who are split down the middle with all the good and bad deeds they’ve done. Those souls take special trials to decide where they’ll end up.”

Leere felt a hot tingle run up her spine when Katha grinned at her with the image of her own skin growing leathery by every passing second. “Then there’s those like you. People with a strong connection to magic or the spiritual who suffered a horrific near-death experience to both the body and soul. Your soul becomes separated from your body until both are healed.”

The Sage felt angry at herself, but why? She couldn’t recall, but she felt like the facts were just under the surface ready to be uncovered. “Why? What happened to me?”

“If you want to return to your body, all you have to do is have the will to find the door. Your soul was recovering its need to use magic and hold its strong connection to the spiritual. Afterall, you nearly sacrificed yourself for the greater good. Isn’t that Leere Dragmire?”

‘Why are you so foolish?! So unbelievably stupid?! You never listened to him… why couldn’t you just listen?’

A familiar voice echoed in Leere’s head, and a spike of pain hit her backside, traveling up her spine up to her head. A horrifying memory of fighting a demon filled her mind. It was going to devastate the world if she hadn’t put a stop to it. Her quest to stop evil meant sacrifice itself. “Oh, sweet goddess.”

Around them, a wailing siren of souls echoed out in the town, hidden by the thick layer of fog. “Well, you’ve remembered how you got here. Now they’ll want to keep you here.”

Leere got off the bench, looking around. “Who does?”

“You’re an interesting soul Leere. Despite the good you’ve done; you’ve done vile acts as well. Such as the souls you turned into energy for your blood magic. Except you didn’t even use all of their soul matter. Now those men cling to your soul as vile ghosts. Not to mention the little demonic residue that lingers on you. They will want you to leave too. Only the exit they want to take you too is far more gruesome than the living world.”

Leere looked around for a weapon to use, or a way to escape to. “How do I know what to look for?”

Katha got up, picking off the flesh on their check. “Trust your instincts Leere Dragmire. You’ll know when you see it.”

As Katha walked away into the deep fog, Leere decided just standing around wasn’t going to cut it out for her. With a fast start, the Sage took off sprinting down the streets. “Instincts. Trust my instincts. Do I really sound so fucking droll when I’m preachy?”

Coming from an alley way, something ran at her. It was a man’s body twisted into the shape of a dog. Only their head was screwed 180 degrees backwards. It was an odd sensation, but as Leere kept running past the shambling creature, she knew exactly who it was. Larry the Dog Butcher. A sickening piece of shit who killed puppies in Danjur as a way to make money. She knew he did it primarily for fun. The human mutt groaned aloud, running at her with an awkward sprint. Even when it caught up at her, all it could do was manage to punch her in the back.

With a furious determination, Leere spun around on the monster, reeling a kick to its head when it lunged at her. The hound squealed and whined, turning tail. Leere hated that it mocked the cries of innocents to make her pity it. Turning her around, she realized the fog had a funny way of sneaking things up on her. There was just enough visibility to reveal a courtyard leading to a large factory. What looked like a smoke stake revealed a large tower up ahead.

Just as she was about to start walking towards it, a loud snapping sound was heard behind her. In the fog, the wail of the hound was heard, being replaced by a trumpeting vibration. Leere decided to book it to factory doors before whatever that thing was saw her. Let her demons tear each other apart for once.

Arriving at the doors, Leere had to smash her shoulder into them a couple times to get them open. She never looked back, but she heard the vibrations getting closer as she was breaking in. Pressing the door closed, she found an iron bar to bring down to lock the entrance. Catching her breath, she expected whatever was outside to try and force itself in. Instead, she was only greeted with silence.

Turning around, she saw that she was in a narrow hallway with barbed wire walls. It was so thin that she had to walk sideways to avoid being cut up by the walls. At the end there was a door way. It would be a slow hop over, but she could make it unscathed if she was careful. Halfway through, she was spooked out of her mind seeing Katha again. “Well done Leere Dragmire. You picked the right door.”

Leere nearly threw up when she saw Katha use her body to crawl through the barb wire, keeping up with her pace. “Why can’t I use my magic here? This is my soul. Magic is supposed to be connected to the soul.”

“Because you’re still too weak. Even if you return to the land of living and reunite with your body, it could take years for you to have mastery of your abilities again. Maybe it could be less than a month. Or maybe you’ll never have it again.”

Leere winced as the barb wire snagged Katha’s arm, only for them to keep pressing forward and having it ripped apart. “Besides the needless reason to show me having my own image tortured, you don’t seem like a cruel angel. Why not just lead me directly to the exit out of your realm?”

“Oh, I can’t do that. Otherwise you’ll never be able to leave. Only your will can do that.”

Deep within the sea of barbed wire, wails grew loud as a red and black aura filled the room. Staring into the Abyss, Leere saw bodies upon bodies of Mortuus tore apart by the wires. As she keeping moving down, her face of horror told Katha exactly what was on her mind. “Yes. Them. Terrible. An entire country of souls all damned. They started coming here, but very quickly, they leave, their souls forcibly taken.” As they spoke, a few of the wailing souls appeared to be torn down to the molecule, stripped down layer by layer from the skin to muscles to bone. “You stopped the Evil from destroying the world, but it cost Malus.”

‘No… no gods why. Why did it have to be like this?’

Was that Sunny? Leere gripped her head, those words echoing her very own thoughts. When some of the Mortuus in the wire reached out to her, she didn’t know if they wanted help or to drag her in. Guilt in her heart drove her to believing it was more the latter. “I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard to save you.”

It seemed like they were getting closer to Leere, one even grabbing her by the hair. She had to punch a poor woman in the face just to escape. “I’m truly sorry.”

Katha’s word could be heard behind Leere as she pried the next door open. “Be careful. There are those who you couldn’t save, who you murdered, and who you damned. Context on how you killed them matters.”

Entering the next room, the black and red hues were replaced by a dark blue. There was an instant shift of temperature as Leere felt her body plummet to a cold shiver. The area was so cold that a thick mist floated around her as she walked through it. Pushing through a plastic tarp, she was greeted to a disgusting smell. Rows and rows of meat were lifted up on hooks.

‘Mommy. I baked you a meat pie. Can’t you wake up and eat it with me?’

The voice of her daughter poking inside her mind gave Leere a boost of confidence to venture past the wretched setting. Some of the stacks of meat the Sage had to physically push to the side. Just as she was getting used to the touch, she pressed her palm against something that made her skin crawl. That was no cow. Looking up, her eyes became transfixed on a human body strung up on a hook.

Backing away from the body, her back hit another body. Scanning her surroundings, she realized that all of these meat hooks were holding up human bodies. Why were there so many dead bodies here? She couldn’t puzzle it together until she saw the body of a Hasai Warrior on one of the hooks. Looking at another body, she recognized the face of a bandit she had to kill on one of her journeys around the world. All the bodies lightly swung back and forth, almost appearing to look directly in her direction. Why wouldn’t they? Every body on a hook was someone she killed in her life.

Feeling a stomach knot twist inside her, Leere backed away from the bodies, hoping to find another door out, when a hand reached out and grabbed her on the arm. This body was built like a scarecrow with straw, yet was filled to the brim with knife wounds that still bleed blood. On their shoulders, two pinks crows were picking out his ear drums. It looked like an existence of pain and misery. That didn’t stop them from smiling with flies in their teeth. “Icky caught you. You stop his angel. Now Icky stops you.”

Leere couldn’t stop the man from screaming out an ear-piercing screech. “Now Revenge is ours!”

The Sage pulled away from him, getting her shoulder cut apart by the grip of his nails. Moving through the meat, she saw the figure of her childhood demons push its way past the bodies to reach her. Being over eight feet tall, they had the same height difference now as they did decades ago. Only this time it was exaggerated to horrific proportions. Any part of their body that wasn’t clothed by the yellow jumpsuit was a deep pitch black to silhouette their hands and head. Only two piercing white eyes broke up the void of darkness. And both of those eyes were wide and looking squarely at Leere.

The colour of the environment changed dramatically to a grey scale. The only colour came from the man in the yellow jumpsuit with his clothing, black shape, and white eyes. If Leere had to face past traumas and lingering victims of hers, this would be the most powerful left over.

Leere’s first instinct was the freeze, but she quickly fought against that thought as the giant’s hand reached out to her. Running away proved to be difficult, however. Her with her sense of colour gone, everything looked the same to her. All the swinging sacks of meat down to walls gave her zero idea of direction. Feeling the air shift behind her, she ducked low to avoid the giant’s hand from grabbing her.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. She was angry. This speck of nothing held no more influence on her. And like hell it was going to be the death of her.

‘We miss you Leere. We know you can pull through.’

That voice in her head. Was that Rinku? Sunny? Both equally urged her on to keep holding on. Glancing about, she saw a gleam of colour through the sea of bodies. The colour purple. She knew that others could easily misinterpret that as an ominous hue, but, to Leere, it was her colour. Running towards it, she heard a static rumble behind her. The yellow bastard must have not liked what she saw. It let out a rattling croak that sounded like it was just behind her ear.

Long ago, this might have rattled or faltered her. Now, in all her experience, she’s seen worse. And the dead were the least of her problems. Breaking past all the bodies, she saw that the source of the purple light was a mirror. It held the reflection of herself, and just behind her, the yellow pursuer. Their eyes looked down on Leere with intense hatred.

Breaking out more into a sprint now, Leere followed her instincts and dived at the mirror with her arms covering her face. It was time to escape this tacky haunted ride of her mind.

Her body smashed through the glass, and she gained all of her colour back. Her body fell into free fall, now falling down a long tube of images. As she fell downwards, Leere saw a silver string. Grasping it, she stopped her fall. It seemed this string had the force and girth of a rope. Gasping to catch her breath, she glanced all around at the images. They were patchworks of her entire life playing back to her. Every good memory, terrible memory, and anything in between.

Looking down, she saw foggy town in the distance. As she peered down, the structure of the town shattered apart. Every building shifted around with the fog. With this bird’s eye view, Leere could see the town turn into the shape of a face. With a grin, the voice of Katha spoke out to her. “Looks like you are ready child. What a strong will you have.”

“Katha! The town. Is this another one of your tricks?”

“I can turn my realm of purgatory into whatever I desire. It is my maze. And you passed. Now, its up to you if you want to return to the land of the living, or cross to the land of the dead. Follow the string. Goodbye Leere Dragmire.”

The image of the face broke apart like dirt falling through a crack. All that was left was the foreboding fog. Leere gripped the string tightly. Looking up, she saw even more fog. Each end of the cylinder of memories was the same. At the top of the string, she felt a sense of light. Comforting even.

As Leere started to climb up the string, she looked downwards. Down below, against the walls of the cylinder, the literal demons of her soul started to climb upwards. They attempted to jump and grab the string, only to fail. Leere gasped, determined to climb higher now.

As the demons raced upwards to attempt their luck at grabbing her, Leere continued to climb the string upwards. Finally, she felt a sense of calm as she felt like she was getting close to the top. Almost their, she was about to push herself for the final stretch, when she saw a woman look down at her.

Her face was neutral, but her eyes were devoid of joy. It was a subtle gesture, but she shook her head at Leere. The woman gripped the string tightly, looking up and down. Below, on the sides, there were demons coming out of the walls, birthed from the bad memories in Leere that played on loop. Hell wanted to drag her down. Looking up, there was a peaceful sense of light and warmth, but the woman told her not to go up. Why?

In a moment of clarity, Leere understood. Rising to the top was simply a different afterlife. One of tranquility, but still the death of her. On all sides of her was hell. If only she could plant her feet in some earth instead of dangling in the air.

Leere’s red eyes suddenly shot up with adrenaline and understanding. Kicking a demon in the face away from her, she looked down. Exactly below her. The string went down into the fog, but no demons were coming up to climb the string itself. She needed to fall back to earth. With a couple deep breaths, Leere thought about the faces of Joy and Sunny one more time. “Hope I’m right. I’m coming home baby.”

With only one hand on the string, Leere let her feet and other hand go. Sliding down the string, all the demons dove after her. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of even a glance. Just as she hit the fog, Leere closed her eyes.

“I wonder what we’ll have for dinner.”

[neoatiny]

Ateez!pirate au (Horizon)

Chapter 3: Eunsung (3)

Plot summary: Obedience has been the very core of who she is. Cursed with not being able to identify faces and haunted by dreams of a monstrous woman, she spends her days serving under the feet of others with no hope of freedom. Later proving herself on a slave ship, she's recruited into the ranks of the Horizon and meets the infamous Pirate King, Kim Hongjoong. The pirate life is uncertain, but at least she's free.

Warnings: mentions of slavery, death, burning, scars

Word count: 2129

Synopsis: Fear of water.

Masterlist / Next chapter / Previous chapter

Leaving the healer's quarters, Eunsung trails behind San as he guides her through the halls of the lower deck. They stop in front of a double door, and he turns to face her. He jabs a thumb at the circle-shaped windows and she spots a young man wiping the kitchen counter.

"Watch this." He whispers mischievously and she sends him a confused look. San turns on his heel and kicks the kitchen door open.

"Seonghwa! Come out, you have a new mouth to feed!" He says in a chirpy tune. For a second, the kitchen is completely empty and she wonders if her dreams have finally affected her mental health.  A black-haired figure appears behind the counter, wielding a pan.

"Who?" The man's voice comes out deep in annoyance. San steps out of the way to introduce her, now dressed in some crew member's clothing. "This is Eunsung. She was one of the slaves on board of the ship we raided a few days ago."

"I know who she is, Choi. The captain's been telling us about her for days."

Eunsung faces the cook nervously and bows to their surprise. Seonghwa lays the pan on the counter, crossing his arms. "I'm not the king of the seas for you to bow to me."

Eunsung stammers. "I-I'm sorry, it's just that on the ship we needed to bow to everyone on board as a sign of respect." San places his hands behind his back and laughs. "We don't do that here. Especially not to Seonghwa." Seonghwa throws a kitchen towel in his direction in response.

She nods slowly, feeling out of place. The cook points to one of the empty wooden stools. "Sit there. I'll go make something."

As they wait patiently, Eunsung stares in amazement as Seonghwa begins to cook. The fire burns bright, but he remains unaffected to how close the flames are to his hands. She recalls the boy slave again. The way his skin had burned away etching deep into her mind. She swallows hard.

He must be dead.

San sits in front of her, clasping his hands together. "You don't have to watch him cook the entire time, you know?" She turns to face him, quietly apologizing.

He waves it off.

"So.." He starts. "You really don't know how I look like? Or Seonghwa?" She nods hesitantly. "Then how are you able to identify people?"

"I-uh, by their clothes and their hair. Sometimes it's by their voices." She answers, drumming her fingers lightly on the wooden surface.

"How were you even able to get in touch with a witch in the first place?" His voice comes out curious and her eyes turn downcast. "I mean, you must have known the risks when you went to negotiate with one."

She drums her fingers harder, now more focused on the sound than his voice. Risks? Had she known the risks? She didn't even know what she wished for or what she had given away. She shuts her eyes for a moment and she's greeted with bloodied green eyes.

"Most ask for something non-material, but sometimes they ask you to commit a ritual of some sort-"

A plate is loudly set down on the table, cutting off San and stopping Eunsung's nervous drumming. "I think that's enough." Seonghwa moves his head to face the healer as he talks. There's an unknown tension around the table. "Wouldn't want her to think of you as a big mouth."

San's voice lowers. "I appreciate the concern."

The cook makes an effort to slowly pull out the chair at the head of the table before sitting down. She notices three unusual white scars at the side of his neck. He faces her suddenly and she's quick to turn her eyes away to look down at the table.

Seonghwa props his elbow on the table, resting his head against his hand. San grumbles, moving his chair so his face isn't covered by his arm. "What are you waiting for?" He gestures to the sizzling meat sat on the plate and a glass of water. "Eat."

She reaches for it, dragging it slowly towards her, the delicious intoxicating smell beckoning her to eat. She stabs it with the fork, quickly bringing it to her mouth.

Gods. She couldn't believe how hungry she was at that moment. As she continues to hungrily scarf down, she listens in on their quiet conversation.

"You shouldn't fire at her with all your questions. She's a former slave, she'll get overwhelmed." Seonghwa scolds. Her heart tightens at the word slave.

San scoffs, crossing his arms. "What would you know? At least I'm actually talking. Don't think I forgot about you though. Glad to hear your voice box is still working." He taps at his adam's apple.

Seonghwa huffs. "I can't believe the captain assigned you to show the newbie around."

"Who else would do it? You?"  San suggests amusingly. "Do you think you'll do better than me?"

"At least I won't chew her ear off with my incessant questions for my useless research."

San lightly claps his hands onto the table, letting out an amused sound. "You have a complaint, you tell it to the captain. Don't waste my time with your pettiness."

The tense atmosphere grows thicker as she swallows the last slice of meat down her throat. She shifts awkwardly in her chair, taking a sip of water. "Hey, look. She's done." San announces emotionlessly. "I guess we'll get going now." He rises from his seat, looking down at Seonghwa before quickly making his way towards the exit.

"Let's go, Eunsung. Say bye to Spark."

"Spark?" She asks, confused at the strange name. Seonghwa sighs. "It's a childish name San gave me. The 'S' stands for my first name, Park is just my surname."

She gradually nods. Her eyes wander back to his neck again and she notices that he has the same three scars on the other side of his neck as well.

"You should get that checked." He points at her side. She thoughtlessly moves her hand to her faint bruise. "The shirt got raised a bit, I'm sorry for staring." He admits.

She's slightly taken aback from his apology. A horrible feeling washes over her for even staring at his scars. She clears her throat. "I did already. It's okay, I've endured worse."

"Well, you shouldn't have to." He responds neutrally.

San yells from the other side of the door. She catches herself bowing again. "Goodbye."

--

After leaving the kitchen, San brought her to every other room in the lower deck. They went by them in a flash, but the most memorable room to her was the living quarters for the Powder Monkeys. She had expected it to be similar to the nightmare that was the hole.

It was separate from the rest of the crew's living quarters, but when San opened the door and greeted them all by their names, her expectations disappeared in an instance. Some boys were sleeping on clean hammocks, and Eunsung wonders if there was another ship with this kind of nice treatment. She could only see their bright hair colors, but they greeted him back in the same friendly manner and waved at her before focusing back on the game they were playing.

She bows at them before he closes the door. "You're very old-fashioned," San mentions. "You seriously need to stop bowing to every person you meet."

"It's a habit." She murmurs.

They're both now at the upper deck. She steps on the wooden floor and her knees ache with a familiar dullness to get down and scrub. Close by, a man carries a bucket filled with water in her direction and she visibly stiffens, her eyes transfixed on the object. He stops a few feet in front of her and spills the water over the deck and it carries away the dirt and muddy shoeprints, disappearing over the ship. His nearby crewmates yell at him for getting their shoes wet, but he merely laughs at them until they join in on his merriment.  

"Eunsung? Are you okay?" San's worried voice snaps her out of her trance and he appears beside her in an instance. She's quick to look at him despite his lack of a face. She nods. His head moves in the direction of the laughing men, but if caught on to what she was looking at, he didn't say anything. "Come on. Don't want you going missing now, do I?"

She's not a slave anymore. Never again.

They move to the right side of the Horizon. Some of the men working stop and whisper amongst themselves as they pass them. "that's her..", "The captain's life.."

She stares over the railing and she sucks in a breath and almost expects a giant hand to rise from the water like in her dreams. Her throat tightens and she realizes she's afraid of the darkness of the sea.

She tears her eyes away and struggles to focus back on what San was talking about.

San slaps the sides of one of the cannons. "Here are the cannons, I won't go into too much detail since you aren't going to work here. The powder monkeys fire the cannons and are usually the new members of the ship like you, but you're a special case."

San cups his hands at the sides of his mouth and yells towards the mizzenmast. "Wooyoung! Come down here! Captain finally assigned your pathetic butt an apprentice!"

She strains her head to look above and sees a flash of purple before a young man skillfully climbs down the Riggs.

"An apprentice?" The man, supposedly named Wooyoung, asks exasperated. "I just helped raid a ship a few days ago and the captain is already giving me more responsibility?"

Wooyoung points at her, his tone annoyed. "You. What's your name?"

"Eunsung." She replies, straightening her back after being addressed. He scoffs. "I can't believe we're already replacing the old gunman."

"The..the old gunman?"

The head gunner points at his neck. "Poor man got shot right here and fell off the foremast. It wasn't pretty."

She gulps and San fake laughs, patting Wooyoung on the back. "Captain's orders, so please don't try scaring her off on the first day. She's a pretty decent shot from what I heard. Maybe even better than you."

Her eyes widen. Nobody said anything about that. San waves, giving words of encouragement before disappearing downstairs to the lower deck.

Wooyoung crosses his arms, giving attention to the gun in his holster. "You were one of the slaves on board the snake-something, right?" She nods, the action feeling more forced.

He stays silent and she awkwardly speaks up again. "I'm cursed." Her words feel heavy on the tongue. "I can't see what expression you're trying to show."

He groans, pointing towards the Riggs. "Start climbing. I'm not going to waste time on someone who won't even be able to qualify as a rigger."

She stares at the tall wooden beam and she swallows nervously. She's never been that high before. "Get going!" Wooyoung commands.

She slowly makes her way towards the tied ropes, getting used to the strange texture.

It's just like the ladder back in the hole. Just treat it like the ladder.

She begins to climb. She imagines the top to be the hatchet door -- her temporary ticket to the outside. Her foot slips momentarily and she exclaims in surprise. She hangs by both of her arms and she struggles to pull herself back up.

Her heart plummets down to her stomach in fear and she does the mistake of looking down. Everything looks tiny from her perspective. Her grip begins to slip and she holds on for dear life. She's going to die if she falls.

She stares down to see the small figure of Wooyoung watching her, and she admits that she's even more afraid of what he might do if she fails.

She's not going back to being a slave.

Her muscles strain and she hooks her foot back onto the rope and continues to climb until she finds herself pulling her body onto the top of the mizzenmast. She stands in victory and she finally smiles for the first time in a long time. She leans against the railing to look down at Wooyoung. "I did it!"

He walks towards the Riggs and in a couple of seconds, she finds herself face to face with Wooyoung. Her mouth opens slightly in disbelief. "You passed..for now." He concludes. "Did you think we were over? I'm not going to let you go until you're able to climb as fast as me."

He cracks his knuckles and even through the blurry facade, she can imagine him smirking. "Get back down and restart."

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Ch. 9

The continuation from the previous chapter’s cliffhanger c:

> Read it here on Ao3 <

> Read it here on Wattpad <

CHAPTER 9: AGITATO

Music glossary: Agitato: To perform in a hurried, restless and agitated manner

(Mood Music: The Lightning Sonata, Op. 1: III - Dr. Tony Cicoria)

“TIKKI!!!!!!” Marinette whisper-screamed as she held the body of an unconscious Chat Noir. “WHAT DO I DO?!”

“Stay calm, Marinette!” the tiny god zipped out of her hiding spot. “We need to take him to Master Fu. He’ll know what to do.”

Unsure, Marinette bit her lip, looking back and forth between Tikki and Chat. “But he’s about to transform back. Shouldn’t we just take him to the hospital once he does?” she asked, wiping a droplet of water that landed on her nose. She frowned. Of all the times for it to start raining, why now?!

Tikki shook her head. “Chat Noir is in very bad shape. I can sense Plagg, his kwami. At this point, Plagg’s magic is the only thing keeping him alive.” Tikki gulped. “If he detransforms, it’s very likely that he won’t survive.”

“He WHAT?!” Marinette exclaimed, on the verge of panic. She could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes as a chill crept down her spine, spreading through her shoulders. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!!!” she cried, terrified, clutching Chat’s body even closer and resting her head on top of his.

Tikki flew in front of her face, trying to get her to focus. “Don’t panic, Marinette! Fu has knowledge that we need in order to help Chat Noir. But we need to hurry. We don’t know how long we have until his transformation drops. Now that you’re older, we know that you can remain transformed for about twenty minutes after using your Lucky Charm. But we’ve never figured out how long Chat Noir can stay transformed after summoning his Cataclysm. It could be minutes; it could be hours. The point is, we need to go right now.”

Marinette squared her shoulders, taking in a few breaths to clear her head. “You’re right. Tikki, spots on.”

This was agony.

Marinette sat in the parlor room of Master Wang Fu’s house, hair damp from the sudden downpour, restlessly fidgeting, legs never sitting still; occasionally getting up to pace, only to sit back down a minute later. Repeat times infinity. Or, at least, that’s how it felt to her.

A literal eternity later (or close to it, surely), Fu emerged from the back room, wiping his red-stained hands on a short apron.

Marinette leaped out of her seat and rushed to her mentor, words tumbling out of her mouth like a dam that had just burst. “Master Fu, is he alright?! Is he alive? Is he going to be okay? Is there anything I can do? Can I see him? Do you need anythi-”

“Marinette, calm yourself. I’ve only been gone for five minutes,” Fu said evenly. “One question at a time.”

Marinette’s mouth snapped closed and she did her best to rein in her nervousness. More quietly, she tried again, “How is he?”

Fu rubbed the back of his head, exhaling long and slow. “He is in precarious condition; there’s a significant amount of internal damage.” He paused thoughtfully. “It will be difficult, but I believe we can help him.”

Marinette’s eyebrows raised in astonishment, eyes glimmering with hope.

“But I will need Tikki’s assistance,” Fu added.

“Tikki’s?” Marinette looked back at her kwami, who flew over to him. “You can use her powers to help him?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Tikki has many healing powers that you haven’t been able to harness yet, since you are still so young. But she can perform them alone, to a certain degree, under the right conditions.”

“Alright,” Marinette sighed, somewhat pacified. “Good luck, Tikki.”

Fu resumed, “Chat Noir will detransform any minute now. When he does, I will give his kwami a special potion I’ve prepared. This potion will allow Chat Noir to retain his transformation for 48 hours without his kwami needing to recharge. Remaining transformed will allow him to heal faster and, hopefully, without permanent damage from his injuries.”

Marinette gulped, brows furrowing in concern. “But… Tikki said… she said his life might be in danger if he detransforms. Will he be alright?”

“Tikki will ensure that he survives while he is changed back to his regular self. However,” Fu’s gaze became more serious, his voice tense. “Pay very close attention, Marinette.”

Marinette’s body stiffened, stomach swirling with uneasiness. Inhaling sharply, she finally nodded.

“Chat Noir will be in a great deal of pain while detransformed.” Eyes narrowing, he cautioned, “But no matter what you hear, you need to stay in this room. For his safety, the ritual must not be interrupted. After ingesting the potion, Plagg can return to the ring and transform him back into Chat Noir without needing the magic phrase. The danger will have passed and Tikki can begin the healing process.”

Before Marinette could ask anything else, the last beeps of Chat’s miraculous rang urgently through the air, dropping another thick layer of tension in the air.

Fu clenched his jaw, nervously sticking his hands in his pockets. “It is time. Remember: do not enter the other room, no matter what.”

He rushed out of the parlor with Tikki in tow, leaving the anxious teenager alone with her uncertainty and apprehension.

She sat stiffly, unable to get comfortable; eyes darting around, trying to find something, anything, to distract her.

A small noise startled her and she shot up from her seat, turning towards the source. It was Wayzz, Fu’s kwami.

“Wayzz? What’s wrong?! Is everything okay??” Marinette practically yelled, almost bowling over the little god, who backed away a few inches in surprise.

“It’s alright, Marinette, don’t worry. My master asked me to be with you. For… moral support,” he offered with a small smile.

Releasing a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, she thanked Wayzz and sat back down onto the stiff leather couch, with the latter following her and sitting on the armrest to offer his company.

A few moments later, Marinette was unceremoniously startled while leafing through a magazine she’d picked up to try and distract herself, involuntarily flinging it across the room, and herself jumping several feet in the air. A commotion had started in the next room. The room Fu and Chat were in. She stared at the door so intensely that Wayzz began to think she might burn a hole through it.

A sound. Low and long, it speared itself into her heart. A song of death and despair echoing around the room, so deep Marinette couldn’t tell what it was at first. Then another, just as long and horrendous as the first. Moaning.

That was good, right? At least he was awake?

A third, guttural and horrible, and it didn’t sound human anymore.

Marinette’s jaw clenched; her eyes filled with fear and worry, horror-struck. Her body felt both hot and cold, with goosebumps all over and an unbearable stiffness spreading from the base of her neck. But she couldn’t move; the moaning kept her in place, frozen by the sound and hanging on the silence between.

Marinette winced and squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip painfully. But she couldn’t drown out the sounds. They tormented her, mocked her, reminded her of her failure to protect him.

She should have known. She should have known this would happen! She should have told him not to go home. She should have realized that he’d be in danger; that his father wouldn’t let him go without a fight. How could she have been so stupid?! They’d become partners just a few hours prior and already she’d failed him, had almost gotten him killed.

This is all my fault. He’s hurt because of me. I did this to him. It’s all my fault... she repeated to herself over and over and over, heart ridden with excruciating guilt and regret.

Minutes passed and the groans did not subside, nor did their intensity abate.

Then a shriek. So loud that she thought someone outside the house might be able to hear them despite the rolling thunder. There was muffled thrashing, glass objects breaking, frantic muttering, and other indecipherable sounds that echoed within the walls of the sparsely furnished room.

On the other side of the door, the boy behind the mask cried miserably between sobs, “Help me… please ... make it stop…!”

Unable to take it anymore, Marinette raced towards the other room, hand reaching towards the doorknob.

Wayzz dashed in front of her, his tiny arms outstretched in warning. “STOP!! You can’t go in there!” he yelled.

Tears streaming freely down her cheeks, Marinette begged, “Wayzz, I have to help him! I need to do something, I can’t bear to hear him like this!!”

Wayzz reasoned with her, “I know that you care about him a great deal, and that it pains you to know he’s in distress. But if you care about his safety, you must allow Fu and your kwamis to finish the healing ritual. You will be able to help. Later. But for right now, you must place your faith and trust in them.”

Marinette groaned pitifully as she crumpled against the door, wiping her tears, a crushing weight bearing down on her chest. She put her head in her hands, dismayed sobs racking her body.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she realized the screaming had stopped. She eyed the doorknob wearily, wondering how much longer it would be until she could see Chat again. An unsettling silence permeated the room, accompanied only by the sound of rain thumping heavily on the rooftops.

A few minutes later, an exhausted looking Tikki phased through the door, wobbily floating towards her. Marinette held out her palm, catching her, then pulled her close into a hug.

“Thanks, Tikki,” Marinette whispered.

Tikki hugged back weakly, nuzzling sleepily into her. Marinette reached to her side to retrieve a cookie, then realized that she hadn’t brought her purse. Heading towards the kitchen, she set Tikki down onto the countertop to rummage through the pantry for a suitable snack. Settling on some candied fruit, she picked up her kwami and handed it over to her, then returned to the waiting room.

When Fu returned, Tikki was already fast asleep. Marinette looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. Gently placing Tikki down onto a couch cushion, she shambled over to Fu as if in a daze.

Dread and fear tied her tongue, but she needed to know. Is Chat alright? Is my Kitty okay?

As if he’d heard her question, Fu answered, “He’s fine. He’s still unconscious, but the danger has passed.”

Choking back a sob, Marinette did her best to blink back fresh tears that threatened to fall. She drooped onto the shorter man, bringing him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice quaking.

Chuckling softly, Fu returned the hug. “It is quite remarkable, you know. You’ve spent such a short amount of time together, and yet you already care so much about him.”

Marinette felt her spine stiffen, a sudden heat rushing to her face. “W-well, I-I mean, he’s m-my partner, of course I care.” Marinette stammered in a haze, trying to explain… explain what?

Before she could reply, Fu continued, “Don’t thank me just yet; now it’s your turn to help him.”

Marinette straightened up, a determined expression on her face. “Of course, Master. What do you need me to do?”

Fu replied, rubbing his sore joints, “As I said before, Chat Noir will remain transformed for about two days. This will allow him to make a full recovery... as long as Tikki is nearby.” He paused briefly. “This is why I must ask you to take him home, and let him stay with you until he recovers.”

Marinette blinked.

“I need to WHAT?!” she exclaimed once her brain had finished rebooting itself.

Fu scratched his beard. “Hmm, you couldn’t hear me? My apologies, I will repeat. Chat Noir is to remain with you at all times, until he is fully healed.”

“B-but Master Fu!” Marinette stammered, her voice bewildered and steadily rising in pitch. “I-it’s not that simple! What about my parents?! How will I convince them to let a notorious criminal hang out in our house??”

Fu calmly patted her arm, “Oh, I know you’ll think of something. You’re a very resourceful young woman,” he replied with a smile. He tugged on her arm and directed, “Come, you should transform and take him back to the bakery before it gets late.”

Marinette could swear she felt her soul leave her body. She stumbled after Fu, stuttering incoherently.

Finally, she managed to sputter, “W-wait! Can’t he stay at your place?”

Fu glanced back at her, shaking his head. “Oh, no, definitely not. Obviously, Tikki must remain with you . You must always be prepared in case Hawkmoth dispatches an akuma.”

Before they reached the bed that Chat was resting on, Fu dropped Marinette’s arm and turned around to face her.

“Oh, and another thing,” he uttered quietly so as to not disturb him. “You must not reveal your identities to each other.”

Face scrunching in confusion, Marinette spluttered, “W-what?! Why not? He’s my partner now, and I trust him! Shouldn’t it be okay to reveal ourselves?”

Wayzz floated next to them and explained, “Given the traumatic experience he just went through, Chat Noir will be particularly susceptible to akumatization. Therefore, your identities must remain a secret for a while longer. Not just until he is healed physically, but emotionally as well. That way, he’ll be more able resist Hawkmoth’s powers. If Chat Noir knew that you are Ladybug, you and your family would be in grave danger.”

Marinette’s mind was still reeling, her brain still trying to catch up with all that was happening.

Fu excused himself to prepare a few poultices for her to take home, with Wayzz following closely behind, leaving Marinette alone with Chat.

The petite girl approached him, kneeling by his side. The sight of him soothed the ache in her chest, and a tiny smile of relief appeared on her face. She took his hand in between hers, lifting it up to her lips and placing a soft kiss on the back. She’d been so frightened. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the moment she found him in that alley. But at last, it felt like the hardest part was over and she could finally breathe a little easier.

But… at that alley, had he really called her by name, or had she imagined it? She shook her head. No; she definitely didn’t imagine it. The way he’d uttered her name, so reverently, so earnestly, and apologizing in such a heartfelt way… That was no trick of the mind.

So, why did he know her name? She’d never told it to him. It was possible that he’d overheard her talking with Nino and Alya after the akuma attack. That must have been it. Because she’d certainly never met him as a civilian. Despite the effects of their miraculous’ magical glamour, she was certain that she would have recognized him.

…Right?

Setting that question aside for now, she looked upon him fondly, relieved that they’d been able to get him here in time, and grateful that Fu and the kwamis had managed to save his life.

Fu swung the door open, holding a small bag of supplies. “Here you go,” he chimed.

Still skittish and on edge, Marinette sprung up with a squeak, jumping away from the fold-out bed as if it was on fire. She flushed in embarrassment and meekly accepted the pouch.

“Now, I don’t know if he will remember being here,” he said. “And really, the less he remembers about this place, the better. We must keep Hawkmoth from finding out that there are other miraculous in the city. He may still hold a connection to Chat Noir’s mind, so we must be cautious. As he spends more time away from Hawkmoth and more time with Ladybug, their bond will weaken while yours will strengthen.”

Marinette’s stomach was a messy whirlwind of nerves and butterflies. How was she going to pull it off? Taking a former supervillain home, convincing her parents to let him stay, a nd not reveal their identities? A tall order, indeed.

But she recognized that they had no other options. Hesitantly, she complied. “Understood, Master.”

Welp. Looks like I’m taking a cat home.

(Mood Music: Broken - Helen Jane Long)

Ladybug landed discreetly by the back entrance of the bakery, carrying the still unconscious Chat Noir in her arms. Peeking her head into the house and finding the coast clear, she slipped in and gingerly propped Chat up against the wall, careful not to slip on the slick, wet floor. Releasing her transformation, she immediately missed the increased strength and energy that her superhero form bestowed upon her, leaving fatigue and listlessness in its stead.

Tikki flew into the back of her shirt to hide. Poking her head out, she whispered, “Are you ready, Marinette?”

The latter replied sarcastically as she squeezed the excess water from her hair, “Oh sure, no problem! I’ll just pop in and say, ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, I found a stray! Can I keep him? He’s litter trained! Pretty please??’ Yeahhhh, that’ll work for sure.” She grimaced, wrinkling her nose.

Tikki giggled, patting her wielder’s shoulder. “Trust your instincts, Marinette. Your parents will understand.”

Marinette exhaled, cocking her head to the side wearily. “Not like we have a choice.” She squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath in. “Here we go.”

The door to the Dupain-Cheng living area opened with a small creak. The subtle smell of pastries and oolong tea wafted through the air, familiar and sweet, enveloping the room in a comfortable atmosphere. There was friendly chatting amidst the indistinct clattering of dishes and running water, while a cheerful song by Queen played on the radio.

Marinette’s father called from the kitchen, “Hi, sweetie! I’m gonna make some hot chocolate as soon as your mom and I finish with these dishes. Would you like some?”

There was no reply; only some shuffling and struggling noises. The lack of response drew the couple’s attention. Looking up from their task, they noticed them immediately.

There at the threshold, in stark contrast with the pleasant, homey surroundings, stood a sopping wet Marinette, laboriously holding up a much taller and equally soaked young man, a dark hood obscuring his face and hair; body limp and battered. Marinette’s pastel colored clothes were stained bright red, and, despite it being black, that same red stains were visible on the young man’s outfit as well.

Sabine stared in fear and shock, breaking the silence as the mug she was drying slipped from her hands onto the floor, shattering on impact.

“Tom—” she croaked out, shaking her husband out of his own horrified stupor, never taking her eyes off her daughter. She rushed to her with outstretched arms, stepping over the broken shards.

The large man scrambled towards the pair and scooped up the unconscious youth. “Marinette, are you injured?! You’re covered in… in…!”

“Papa, I’m okay,” Marinette reassured him. “The blood isn’t mine; it’s his,” She pointed to the person in Tom’s arms. “And he’s badly hurt!”

Tom nodded and walked towards the living area, placing the lanky young man onto the long side of their sectional couch. Sabine reappeared with a basin full of warm water and a few washcloths to clean up the wounds.

Kneeling by his side, she soaked a washcloth in the basin to clean the mystery man’s face. Marinette scrunched her eyebrows in unease as her mother reached for the hood.

She held her breath, suppressing a flinch. This is it. Moment of truth.

Sabine pulled back the fabric, revealing a striking face with sharp features and a mess of golden blond hair. His skin was pale from blood loss, his lips colorless, his sickly sunken eyes noticeable despite the black mask that framed his face.

Pulling her hand away as if she’d been burned, Sabine leapt away, almost tripping on the coffee table behind her. “I-IT’S CHAT NOIR!?”

“WHAT??!?!” Tom shouted, eyes popping wide open in alarm. He rushed to his wife, pulling her behind him, effectively shielding her. “Honey, call the police!” he cried to her. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything!” Sabine nodded and ran towards the kitchen area across the way.

“Mama, wait!!” Marinette yelped, reaching for the hem of her mother’s shirt. Her mother stopped short of the countertop where the phone laid, looking back in confusion.

Marinette explained, “Don’t call the police, they’ll just lock him up; he needs medical attention!”

“They can give it to him in prison,” her father replied, baffled by her response.

“But they’re not going to care about what happens to him! They might even leave him like this just so he won’t escape!” Marinette insisted.

Tom scratched his head in confusion. “What else are we supposed to do? We’ve got nothing to do with him. Like I said, we’ll let the police deal with it,” he retorted.

“We can take care of his injuries ourselves,” she proposed.

Tom’s eyes grew wide in alarm, head whipping back as if she’d slapped him. “WHAT?! Are you nuts??”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I think we should let him stay until he feels better,” Marinette argued.

Tom crossed his arms. “You can’t be serious! This criminal not our responsibility! We can’t get involved!”

Frowning, Marinette scurried next to him and took a wide stance, hands on her hips, with the most intimidating look she could muster, appearing taller than she ever had. “Just a moment, Papa,” she said, holding up her index finger for emphasis. “Under Article 223 of the French Penal Code, ‘anyone who willfully abstains from rendering assistance to a person in danger will be found liable before the French criminal court. This offense is punishable by five years imprisonment and a seventy-five thousand euros fine.’”

“Wha-WHAT?!” Tom sputtered. “How the heck do you know that?!”

“I got a perfect score in the law enforcement unit of my social studies class,” Marinette replied without missing a beat. She had to suppress a smirk upon seeing the stupefied expression on her father’s face. Years of being the sole protector of the city of Paris meant that she’d become very familiar with its legal procedures and rules. But her parents wouldn’t question the validity of her claim if she used school as an excuse. “That means we have to help him! It’s the law!” she insisted.

Tom argued, “Absolutely not!! Law or not, it’s too dangerous! He could wake up any minute and kill us all!”

“He won’t!” Marinette stated with conviction. “Have you ever actually seen Chat Noir attack a civilian?” she countered. “Just think about it! Remember when Grandpa Dupain was akumatized? Chat stopped him from destroying the bakery and lured him away from you guys. Or when he saved me from getting turned to stone when Nonna was akumatized? He wouldn’t hurt us!”

Recalling the events, Tom paused to reflect upon all the possible reasons why Chat Noir would have done that. It didn’t make any sense. What ulterior motive could he have had at those moments? Surely there was something. He was evil. Why would he rescue them?

“Regardless,” Tom finally answered. “He was still an active participant and Hawkmoth’s accomplice. We have to turn him in to the authorities.”

Marinette continued to stall. She couldn’t reveal that Chat was Ladybug’s friend now without arousing suspicion and being asked questions about how she’d acquired this undisclosed information. “Couldn’t we at least treat his injuries up before we do that? In spite of everything else he’s guilty of, we should pay him back for saving us, don’t you think so?”

“Even if we wanted to, we only know basic first aid. We’re not equipped for anything more serious,” he replied.

“His miraculous will help him heal; he’d just need a place to stay while he gets better. Papa, he could die! Even if he’s a criminal, we can’t let a person die under our roof. Not when we can do something about it!”

She whipped her head towards her mother, hoping for backup. “Mama, it’s pouring outside. Can’t we let him stay, even if it’s just for a few hours? He may have committed crimes, but nobody deserves to suffer like this!”

Sabine had been silent during their dispute, carefully assessing the situation, fingers tapping on her chin as she always did whenever she was deep in thought.

“Mama, Papa… He needs help... Please.” Marinette implored, eyes shining with unshed tears, wringing her trembling hands together. Even though her parents knew nothing about her relationship with Chat, it was impossible to conceal how much this mattered to her.

“Dear, will you excuse us for a moment?” Sabine finally answered her daughter. “Your father and I need to deliberate.” She took Tom’s hand and headed towards the spare bedroom next to the living area.

“Deliberate?! What is there to deliberate?” He planted his feet and replied urgently, “A-and we can’t leave Marinette alone with him! Darling, we’re all in danger right now! This crook is like a bomb that could detonate at any moment! We know what he’s capable of! He could Cataclysm this entire building the moment he wakes up.”

Sabine’s expression turned grave and resolute, looking straight into her husband’s eyes. She firmly squeezed his much larger hand, wordlessly beckoning for his cooperation.

A few moments later, Tom sighed. Sabine was taking advantage of his biggest weakness: he could never say no to her.

“Alright,” he complied at last. Turning towards Marinette, he instructed, “But holler if you need us.”

The pair entered the next room, not quite shutting the door all the way so they could still hear their daughter in case of emergency.

“We should hurry, I don’t like leaving her alone with that guy,” Tom fretted. “What’s on your mind?”

Sabine replied, “I think we need to know more about what happened. Like who did this to him.”

Tom flailed his arms in bewilderment. “Wait, why does that matter? What is this all about?”

Sabine crossed her arms, scrunching her brow in concentration. “I don’t know… Something just isn’t adding up.”

“Maybe he got jumped by an angry mob, or by people who’ve been akumatized,” Tom speculated. “He and Hawkmoth are everyone’s enemies; it could’ve been literally anyone!”

“There’s just something really odd about this whole thing,” she pressed. “Why did it happen now? And why didn’t Hawkmoth save him?”

“Sabine, there’s a supervillain on the other side of this door!” Tom sputtered. “We’re not detectives! This isn’t our responsibility. We need to call the police and get this thug out of our house now!” he cried desperately.

“Tom, he has superpowers. What chance would they have? As you said, he could Cataclysm his way out of jail. Just hear me out first,” Sabine insisted. “Remember earlier today on the news, during the akuma attack? They showed Chat Noir defeating the akuma himself. They showed him leaving the scene with Ladybug. What if something happened between him and Hawkmoth, and now they’re at odds with each other?”

“All the more reason to get rid of him immediately,” Tom argued. “We can’t get caught in the crossfire of two superpowered villains. We need to think of our family!”

“But Tom, he’s just a child. He’s not a full adult yet, just like our Marinette, and most likely still in lycée. Probably not even old enough to vote. And where’s his family right now?”

“Are you seriously considering that we let him stay?!” Tom stared at Sabine as if she’d just suggested he drink a gallon of poison.

She tilted her head in thoughtful concern. “I’d feel terribly guilty if we turned out an injured person, even if they have a bad past. Especially someone so young,” she iterated.

“Being young is no excuse,” Tom retorted. “If he’s old enough to terrorize a city, he’s old enough to accept responsibility for it.”

“You’re right. He is old enough to be held accountable for his actions,” she conceded. “But could we at least wait until morning? It’s late, it’s thunderstorming, and we should find out more about the situation before we do anything rash. Ladybug should be the one to take care of this, not the authorities,” she reiterated. “If there’s even the slightest possibility that he's working with her now, I'd hate to deprive of her an ally. Heaven knows that poor girl has been alone for so long. We have to find a way to contact her.”

Tom groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Sabine... You’re right too, but still… I don’t like this.”

“I know, honey, and I’m sorry to ask this of you,” she said softly, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. “But it feels right. And it’s important to Marinette. I really don’t think he would hurt her. Plus, he did save us.”

Her husband nodded at that, considering her words. A whole minute passed, neither of them speaking as they held hands.

Finally, Tom spoke, “Well… You always were an excellent judge of character.” He sighed deeply, biting his lip in trepidation. “I trust you. And I’ll trust Marinette.”

Sabine gave him a soft smile. “I think Chat Noir ended up on our doorstep for a reason. I don’t believe it was a coincidence.” After a pause, she added, “And if we don’t help, nobody else will.”

The Dupain-Chengs re-entered the living room hand-in-hand. Across the room, a tired looking Marinette was hard at work cleaning up Chat Noir’s face and arms. She had removed his cowl and staff, and laid them carefully on the coffee table.

The pair glanced at each other, mutually acknowledging and admiring their daughter’s big heart and capacity for compassion.

Sabine knelt next to her, placing her hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you go shower and change? You’ll feel a lot better. I’ll keep fixing him up.”

Marinette whipped her head around, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“Let me move him to the guest bedroom first,” Tom interjected. “It’ll be easier in there.”

Gaping like a fish with her jaw somewhere on the floor, Marinette struggled to formulate a coherent sentence. “D-does that mean that you– that we’re letting him– that you’re gonna—!”

“Yes, he can stay.” Tom suppressed a grin and did his best to put on his Stern Father Face. “But just until tomorrow, after we find out more about what happened. We’re going to try to get in contact with Ladybug. Maybe if we get word to her first, she could sort this out.”

“Thanks, Papa! Thanks, Mama! You’re amazing!” Marinette cried, eyes glistening with relief. She reached over to hug her mother, but was stopped halfway as Sabine held her back by the shoulders.

“Ummm, maybe we hold off on that hug until you’ve changed out of these dirty clothes,” Sabine said, mouth quirked to the side in amusement.

Marinette glanced down at her filthy, blood-stained shirt. “Oh! Right!” She shot up and dashed up the stairs to her bedroom, tripping on a step in her haste. “THANK YOU GUYS!!!”

Her parents smiled at each other, then set about moving the subject of tonight’s commotion into the guest bedroom.

Freshly bathed and changed, Marinette assisted her mother in patching up Chat Noir, applying bandages and antiseptic where needed, and removing articles of clothing to treat the areas underneath. They worked in quiet conversation, and before long, it was time for Tom and Sabine to head to bed so they could open the bakery at dawn, as they always did.

“Don’t stay up late,” Sabine called. “I’ll check in on him in the morning, so don’t worry about a thing.”

“Yes, Mama. I’ll just stay here for a few more minutes. Good night,” Marinette chirped contentedly.

Sabine kissed the top of her daughter’s head, then exited the room. Once again Marinette was left alone with Chat. The room was silent but for the sleeping boy’s soft yet steady breathing and the continuous splattering of rain outside.

Tikki cautiously peered out of Marinette’s shorts pocket, whispering, “I’ll be under the bed to speed up his healing. Sneak me some cookies now and then, okay?”

Marinette nodded. “Can do,” she whispered back. “Thanks, Tikki.”

She watched her kwami disappear under the bed frame, a myriad of thoughts swirling around her head. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful and relieved that her parents let Chat spend the night, or to fret about how she would convince them to allow him to stay for longer than just overnight, as Fu had instructed.

Finally concluding to tackle the situation one problem at a time, she grabbed up a nearby pillow to sit on and held Chat’s hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb.

Despite being asleep, she noticed how much more at peace he appeared, physically. The pained scrunch that had been fixed on his brow was gone; a softer, more relaxed expression had appeared in its stead.

She sat comfortably by his side, watching his bare, muscular chest slowly rise and fall as he slept deeply. A pleasant shiver traveled down her body and she bit her lip, blushing.

Somehow, despite being covered in bandages and scratches, he was still exceptionally handsome. He must be even more gorgeous under the mask, she surmised. Sighing dreamily, she placed her hands under her chin, eyelids fluttering slowly as she dumbfoundedly gazed upon his sleeping form.

So… beautiful…

Her brain screeched to a halt. Wait, what?? Realizing where her thoughts had wandered, she squeezed her eyes shut with a wince and frowned. Marinette, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!! This is literally the most inappropriate time to be ogling your new partner!!

She shook her head, inhaling sharply in stubborn denial.

No, not ogling… You were just… admiring! Yes! In a totally not-creepy way! He would make a fantastic model for your designs! For sure! That’s all it is. Yep.

Despite herself, she opened one eye and peeked at him, heat blossoming within her chest yet again.

You were most definitely not ogling your partner. Your extremely attractive and sweet partner, who shamelessly flirts with you but is actually ridiculously kind, whose broad shoulders and strong arms give amazing hugs and make you feel safe and warm, and whose hair is so silky it may as well be in a shampoo commercial, and– GAAHHH, WAIT, NO!!!

Mortified, she curled in on herself with a long groan, covering her now ruby-red face with her hands.

Distraction… need a distraction!!

Marinette looked Chat Noir over for the hundredth time, searching for anything else she could do to make him more comfortable, since making herself useful would be a sure way to keep her tired brain away from any further indecent thoughts.

Her gaze landed on a speck of dirt in his hair that markedly stood out against the light-colored tresses. Now, this wouldn’t do. She plucked off the offensive particle, only to discover a few more stragglers hidden under some tangled strands.

Hesitantly, she threaded her fingers through his blond locks, tenderly smoothing it and picking off any remaining bits of debris and dust. Satisfied she’d done the best she could short of actually bathing him (DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM BATHING, DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM BATHING) , she continued to stroke and massage his scalp, set on offering him as much relief as possible. A low, fluttering sound emerged from his throat in response.

Marinette froze in confusion, and the grainy sound ceased. Odd. Quirking an eyebrow, she formed a hypothesis. She caressed his head again, and the vibrations resumed. Eyes bright and curious, she moved her ministrations up to the area around his cat ears, and the tonal sound intensified. She grinned widely, stifling an excited squeal at her conclusion.

He’s purring. That... is so ADORABLE.

A wave of overwhelming affection rose in her chest, and she had to suppress an almost inexorable urge to hug and squeeze him as hard as possible. Since that wasn’t an option, however, she decided on the next best thing. Gotta give the kitten his rubs.

Humming idly and enveloped in a dreamy calm, Marinette continued giving Chat his much deserved love, losing track of time and only stopping when her arm got tired. She slowly slid her hand down to his cheek, stroking it gently. Still smiling, she leaned forward, placing a light, yet lingering kiss to his forehead.

Plopping back down to her cushion, Marinette sighed deeply, rife with exhaustion. What a day. She certainly hadn’t expected it to be different than any other when she woke up that morning. Thinking back on it was almost mind-boggling, having experienced a myriad of different emotions in such a brief time. Shock. Confusion. Pain. Relief. Joy. Love. She’d been so terrified, so worried. She was still worried.

Bringing Chat’s hand to her own face, she leaned into it, almost nuzzling it, relishing the feel of his naked hand on her skin. His purrs quieted, but remained. The gentle rolling sound soothed her as well, making her languid and serene. She stayed this way for a long time, despite her needing to go to bed.

Even though she knew Chat was safe here in her house, she didn’t want to leave him. She couldn’t explain why, but she just… needed to be with him. An irrational fear nagged at the back of her head, as if he’d disappear or get taken away the moment she left him alone. Somehow, being near him brought her indescribable comfort. Which, if you’d told her a few months prior that she’d be cuddling up to Chat Noir and giving him a scalp massage, she would have laughed in your face.

Marinette exhaled, deep and heavy and long. With a tired groan, she rolled her shoulders back, trying to rid herself of the tension and stiffness from the day’s events. So much had happened. She tried not to think about it anymore, but the thoughts were intrusive, nagging, incessant. Her body shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, yet found no reprieve.

The immediate danger had passed, but thoughts of Chat’s suffering, of his bloodcurdling, agonized cries and thrashing continued to haunt her, to remind her of her inadequacy and inability to protect him as she’d promised him only hours ago. She pursed her lips tightly, trying to hold back tears. With a fiery determination, she vowed she would never allow that monster to touch him again.

But, for now, they deserved a rest. Chat was safe, and they were together. And that’s all that mattered.

[pennys-th0ughts]

Loser... 🥀

A long sigh came out of my mouth like some kind of relieving sensation that had been trapped deep inside my chest for so long, but I didn’t feel any relief, only frustration. I picked up the three balls lying on the floor, gathered the rest of my stuff inside my duffel bag and got out of the big tent hearing the mocking laughter at my back. “You will never be good enough as a clown” someone said, “¡your parents must be ashamed of you!”, “¡Go back to the stinky hole you came out of!” and the insults kept on coming until I finally got out.

I looked around searching for a quiet place to put myself together. Once I spotted it I headed there and sat down on the edge of an empty wagon belonging to the circus I just finished performing one of my complex acts just to be rejected, as had happened in the previous one. It was my fifth try and I still had no luck finding a circus that wanted to hire me. The owners kept telling me that I was too old to be a clown and they wouldn’t take the risk of hiring someone of my age or they would just say I lacked experience. So many lame excuses…

The day had been long and tiring and the heat was overwhelming. The summer season was at its highest peak and some days the temperatures were barely tolerable. The key to survive such weary time of the year was to remain away from the sun and stay hydrated, and one of those things was becoming the hardest to get.

A couple or guards began to look at me in a uncomfortable way so I left that place and ended up catching my breath sitting under a tree. I was enjoying its cool shadows when a thin hand landed on my left shoulder. I sighed and didn’t dare to find out which body that small and delicate hand belonged to but since it seemed not to belong to one of the guards, I finally raised my eyes trying to avoid the rays of the sun. The other hand offered me some fresh water and also an apple.

Moved by such kind gesture I saw myself forced to stand up and thank to whoever was being benevolent enough to offer me such things, but both hands didn’t allow me to, instead, this mysterious person knelt by my side.

– You must be tired – the smooth and calm voice said-. Please, don’t bother yourself in standing up. ¿May I?

The young lady pointed an empty space next to me, I nodded and moved a bit to make some more space so she could take a sit and shelter herself from the sun. We spent some minutes in silence whilst I took some sips of the fresh liquid and later bit the sweet fruit. In the meantime, I could sense her staring at me as if was some kind of peculiar creature, like the most the circus would hid behind its red curtains. I devoured the apple in a couple of bites and then I realized how embarrassing that must have looked like. She just chuckled.

– I must apologize – I used the back of my sleeve to clean up my chin-. I was starving, to be honest…

She raised both hands to let me know it was okay and laughed amused. The innocence of her waysput a smile on my face instantly. Her smile was as bright and warm as the sun and her manners were as fine as the ones of a princess. We stayed under the shadows talking and laughing about so many mundane things until the sunset gave its lasts breaths and the purple blueish tones began to paint the night sky. The laughter she ripped off from my lips was so plenty that my eyes watered many times washing part of my make-up.

The little lightbulbs surrounding the big tent began to light one by one bringing some light to the vast territory the circus occupied. The people belonging to it started to walk to their tents to get some rest from another long hot day. I realized that that painful moment to say goodbye had come and I would need to leave before the owner of the circus could tell I was spending my time with his daughter. The less I wanted was to get her into trouble so I stood up and got ready to leave but she grabbed my hand and almost dragged me towards her tent in some kind of stealth mode. We successfully avoided a couple of guards, a handful of jugglers and some lion tamers who were taking those exotic animals back to their cages. The excitement of hiding from the circus owner in his daughter tent was the most thrilling experience I had in many years since the last one when I was around ten years old which consisted in the fruit stealing from the neighbor’s tree.

That night my heart was beating exactly in the same erratic and fast way it did that day but there was something different now and the company made it a lot more interesting.

– You have never told me your name… – I point that out in a very curious tone of voice.

– ¡Oh, you are right! – She said looking notoriously embarrassed-. My name is Elizabeth but everyone here calls me Liz.

– Delighted to meet you, Liz – I kissed her knuckles and introduced myself as well-. I'm Robert Gray but you can call me Bob.

The mystery was solved and I was even more interested about discover more about this girl so I began to cherish every minute of our conversations. I took a last peek outside the tent to make sure nobody had seen us and once I felt reassured I turned around with a confident smile on my face. Liz poured some water in a metallic bowl and wet a piece of cloth.

– Have a sit – she invited me-. I will help you remove the make-up.

– That’s really not necessary, Liz… – I tried to avoid her selflessness help but it was in vain.

– Don’t be so modest, Bob – she insisted-. Besides, if you keep wearing it, it might spoil your skin.

I sat on the little bench and she placed the bowl on a table almost of the same size next to me, and carefully, she began removing the paint of my face. When she finally finished she stared at me for some long minutes as if she was admiring the very uncommon features of my face. She brushed my ginger hair backwards and fixed her blue eyes with mine. Then a painful memory came to my mind when the soft tip of her index finger followed the irregular line of one of my scars. Instinctively my hand grabbed her wrist by impulse but without any intentions to hurt her. When I realized what I just did it was a bit too late.

– I'm afraid to ask but – she hesitated- ¿how you did get these?

I lowered my eyes until I had the dusty floor in front of me; I took a deep breath and told Liz the story about those peculiar scars. In the meantime people outside their tents were getting ready for the typical midnight feast in which many of them would eat and drink until early hours of the morning and probably sleep big part of the day to get rid of the hangover. Those would be precious hours to share with Liz and I was looking forward to prolong our talk. She made me feel like I was at home and for some reason the need of being with her was becoming imperative. Liz didn’t care about my aspect without the make-up and her interest in me since the beginning was touching. She gently caressed my forehead and the scar that made its way over my eyebrow and ended up in my cheek. She made me close my eyes and, out of the blue, she sat down on my lap. A little smirk curved my lips whilst Liz kept stroking my hair backwards making the experience even more intense with the perfume her skin was letting go. The scent was delicate and yet it was all over the place as if the aroma was coming from a bucket of just trimmed flowers. Then I felt them. At first the feeling was suffocating but warm, soft and finally passionate. Elizabeth had the tastier lips I could have ever kissed and her possessive way of seducing me was delicious.

– Liz – I made my best to talk her out of it, that what she was trying to get wouldn’t probably end well- if your father catches us red handed he will definitely throw me inside the lion’scage.

– He won’t – she shut me up placing her finger on my lips-. He would have gotten drunk enough by the time we have left.

I blinked several times, uncredulous but mostly dumbfounded. Leaving the circus with the owner’s daughter was definitely a very bad idea that would mean a certain death for me and a severe punishment for her. I shook my head in denial; I had to do something about it and fast.

– I will be forever doomed to steal you from your father’s hands and I will happily live with it but ¿can we reconsider the possibility that your father will haunt us just to make our lives miserable?

Liz remained some minutes in silence probably having second thoughts about my words. I knew what she wanted from the moment she suggested to leave the circus, but leaving in that way will only cost us more than we could bear, so we carefully thought and planned our escaping way starting that very night. We still had a few hours ahead so we would take our time to do whatever we wanted to do.

Her hands were soft as cotton as all the skin wrapping her little but harmonious body whilst the curves of her breasts and waist were almost perfectly shaped like the silhouette of a glass cup. She was out of her usual vestments and the light of the fire was bathing her smooth skin in red and gold tones. As the flames were dancing making the whole room dance at their compass, Liz started her own choreography taking off in each turn a piece of clothing. The lines of her back seemed to resemble the dunes of a vast dessert whilst her long black hair, shinny and silky, was like the oriental night sky. She took possession of my mouth again but this time I could feel she was more than certain of she was doing so I let her go over me without any restrictions. It had been long time since the last time I was with a woman and Liz was beyond attractive to deny her charms.

The night went by wonderfully like some kind of mixture between a romantic novel and an adventure tale. After making love for almost two wild hours we decided to soothe our appetite, for food this time, so we ate richly and drink a delicious sweet wine, as for dessert we tasted some fresh fruits and a strange pudding with a filling I have never ate before. Once our bodies were satisfied in many ways, we fall asleep. Liz wrapped her thin arm around my chest and hid her face in the hollow of my neck. To feel the peacefulness of her breathing tickling my skin was all I needed to dive into an intoxicating sleep.

Rooster’s badly tuned song woke me up from a very pleasant dream just in time to avoid prying eyes. I gently shook Liz’s shoulder to wake her up. She got dressed and helped me to put my make-up back only this time she painted my face in a very different but interesting way which I liked more. She made the lines that crossed my eyes vertically longer and connected them with the corners of my lips, so the new design ended up looking like a big “U” shaped smile starting in my forehead and finishing in my mouth. I borrowed some clothes from her wardrobe and put them on, maybe that would help me avoid the guards on my way out of her chambers.

Another day went by and Liz and I were keeping our love adventure out of the circus thus behind the curtains. I have never felt so excited before and the feeling itself was captivating. I was looking forward to see her every time the circus closed its doors and everyone went to sleep just to discover our naked bodies once more, swim in the lake or eat delicious evening meals at the candlelight. Tonight we had planned to leave and spend some hours at the quarries and enjoy the night and its sparkling stars.

– The moon light is so bright tonight – Liz pointed that out looking up the sky as if she was a little girl looking at some marvelous treasure.

I took her hand and guided her towards the shore of the lake. The temperature of the water was nice and it was an unspoken invitation to get into it. We looked at each other in complicity and ready to throw each other to the lake but we didn’t, we just took our shoes off and got our feet into it to avoid ending in a water fight. The songs of the crickets, the hoot of the owls and the wind whispering all around us was making of that brief moment something worthy to live for.

– Moon looks like a tiny firefly compared to you…

Careless words got out of my mouth like a bunch of wild horses and by the time I realized what I just said, it was too late. I shut my eyes tightly feeling my cheeks going beetroot in no time, but the night was allowing me to stay low key regarding my feelings. Liz accidentally put her hand on mine and I immediately hold on to it as if it was a life jacket to what she only gave me her most shy but tender smile.

– You turned to be a very sweet man, Bob – Liz hold my hand back-. And I really like you…

– Liz – I unintentionally interrupted her, fearing that her final words would probably be painful for me since I was sensing some kind of hesitation in her voice- I know we barely know each other from few days ago but I have really wanting to tell you something…

Her blue eyes began sparkling under the pale light of the moon and my heart started racing like a steaming machine out of control. I got my hand inside my pocket and took a little box out of it; I opened it trying really hard to keep my shaking hands at bay so she didn’t notice how nervous I was. Once the shiny red stone caught her attention I felt confident enough to say the big words.

– ¿Would you marry me, Liz?

Judging by how hard she was squeezing my hand I could tell she had been caught totally by surprise and her reaction gave me hope. She took the small object out of the box and looked at it full of excitement and perplexity and started nodding until she finally said yes. My heart was pounding inside my chest like a giant old bell, not leaving more space for any other feeling but joy. Her face was distorted because a big smile that kept making the moon to look even smaller. We sealed our union with a long kiss and agreed to leave next day at night. We both knew that Elizabeth’s father won’t allow us to leave and less knowing that her daughter was planning to run away with a loser.

I have never had more than five dollars in my pocket and a clear destination where to head to but this time, this time was so different, I was carrying something with more value I could ever imagine and I had, for the first time in a long time, a crystal clear idea where to go. For the first time in my life I was certain about my future and happy to meet the person I was going to share it with. I might still be a loser with nothing to lose or maybe I'm just a lover with everything to live for...

Image: credits to the owner

[gumnut-logic]

Gentle Rain

Title: Gentle Rain

Warm Rain Series

Part One

Author: Gumnut

14-15 Jan 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count:

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Scott/OC, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the timeline.

Timeline: After ‘The Proposal’ and before ‘Goodbye’.

Author’s note: This fic sprouted from two directions. The first was from a prompt by @scribbles97 who wanted some Scott whump, but shortly after that there was a discussion about poor Scott’s love life, so an OC has been born into Warm Rain. I hope you like her. Thank you to all my wonderful readers and supporters who continue to help me create more and more stories. I’m having the time of my life, you guys are wonderful :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“For the love of god, will you bloody well sit still!”

Kayo frowned.

“I need to-“ Scott. That was Scott.

“If you don’t stop moving, I will knock you out, you hear me?” It was a threatening tone. Kayo attempted to force her eyes open. They moved, but flickered closed again.

“Please, she’s my sister.” That sent alarm bells ringing. What the hell? Scott’s voice hurt. “Virgil...” Virgil! She struggled against the weight drawing her down. Virgil? Where was Virgil?

There was dust in her nose.

“Your sister is okay. It is you who you should be worried about. Sit still.”

“But-“

“What do you think your sister will do to you if you haemorrhage attempting to get to her? What do you think she will do if you go and die on her simply because you’re being a stupid ass and won’t sit still?

There was no answer. Scott? Virgil?

Her eyes opened only to encounter blur. Grey blur. “S-Scott?” That was her voice?

“Kayo!”

“God damnit, if you undo what little I’ve managed to do, I’ll kill you myself!”

That had Kayo moving before she could think. She sat up abruptly and her reward was a spinning vertigo and spikes of pain through her head, her back, her legs. She groaned, her stomach crawling up her oesophagus.

She swallowed desperately and only just managed to keep whatever she last ate where it was supposed to be.

“Keep yourself calm. You have a concussion.”

Her voice was parched. “No kidding.” Her eyesight was wobbly, blurry and grey. “Where are we?”

“Basement of Kenny’s Hotel, King’s Park.”

That made her blink. “Where?”

The voice sighed. “Perth, Western Australia. I guess you guys could find yourself anywhere on the planet at any time. You were here to help with a landslide.”

Landslide? In Perth? She frowned. Her memory was a mess. Only one name and one face kept resurfacing. “Virgil? Where is Virgil?” She reached for her kit, feeling for one of those light sticks her fiancé demanded she carry. There was the crack of broken seals and the blur glowed green.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who Virgil is, much less where he is. Only you, your brother Scott and myself are privileged to be caught in this hole.”

She frowned again, looking towards the voice. The green blur cleared a little, leaving shapes. “Scott?”

“Here, Kayo.” He didn’t sound too good. “Contact Virgil.”

Contact Virgil...yes. She hit her comms. Nothing happened.

She hit them again. “Virgil? John? Thunderbird Five?” No confirmation of an open line, no crackle of transmission. Nothing.

She ran her hand over her face, willing her thoughts to clear and the pounding to stop. Where was her helmet? A moment of discovery found it beside her on broken floorboards. How?

Calm. Now was not the time to lose control. If Virgil was okay, he would find them. If he wasn’t, she would find him. Concentrate.

Using years of mental discipline, she pulled herself into focus, desperately compartmentalising, shunting pain away, grabbing for control. She was needed. No time for weakness.

It helped. It forced more clarity. Her eyesight wasn’t much better, but it improved a little. The woman had dark hair and was lying beside her brother. Scott’s shape was crumpled on his side. He was staring at her.

They were in a hole, literally. Broken masonry and brickwork surrounded them, but they were in a clear spot created by a massive concrete beam above them capturing all the debris and leaving the open space that had obviously saved their lives.

“Scott, status?”

She knew the answer wouldn’t be good. She dreaded it.

“Er...” He didn’t want to tell her, it was obvious.

The woman answered for him. “Perforated abdominal cavity, broken ribs, arm and leg.”

“Your bedside manner sucks.” He snarled at her.

“Put yourself in a bed and it might improve. But for the moment, stop moving, stop talking, keep living. Be damned if I let you die on my watch.”

“As I said, it sucks.”

“Who are you?” Kayo blinked desperately trying to clear her vision. This could be a security situation.

“Em Harris. Doctor Em Harris. I’m supposed to be on vacation, but the hillside decided it wanted to fall on people. Tried to help, then this hotel decided to join the party.”

Kayo took what she needed from that and discarded the rest. “Your medical status?”

“Severe lacerations to my legs, possibly a cracked rib, bruising and a knock to the head. I’ve bound the bleeders as best I can.” There was hesitation. “I may need some assistance with that.” Another pause. “How’s your eyesight?”

“Not great.”

“Give it some time.” The hiss of an exhaled breath. “What about the rest of you? I didn’t see anything, but...”

Kayo did a quick mental check of herself. Her thought processes were definitely getting clearer. Everything was aching, but bruising was the likely culprit. She arched her back, argh, nasty bruising. She must have fallen some distance, the timber beneath them probably saved her. “Nothing serious.”

Silence fell for a moment and the lack of sound was oppressive.

“Did you want me to check your legs?” She had eyes on Scott, but from what she could see, which was admittedly blurry, the doctor had done everything she said. His arm was splinted to his body, his legs tied together, and cloth was wrapped around the obvious wooden cause of the damage to his side. Kayo was running scenarios through her head and none of them were good. They needed to get out of here. But lives first and the woman had shown her only hesitation at the mention of herself.

Not waiting for an answer, she shuffled her way over to the pair, a hand landing briefly on Scott’s fingers, her heart twinging at the sight of darkness staining his uniform. Iron control kept her in check, thoughts briefly flickering to Virgil shunted away.

The woman, Doctor Harris, was lying alongside her brother, the green light making her look sickly. Her legs were sprawled carelessly, the material of her pants shredded. There was that same darkness seeping through. Kayo bit her lip. Torn pieces of clothing, presumably her jacket and part of her shirt were wrapped in strategic places.

This hadn’t happened where she was lying. It couldn’t have. Kayo frowned lighting up a trail of darkness leading into the rubble. God. “What did you do?”

The woman looked up at her. “What was necessary.”

How was she conscious? Grabbing the remains of the woman’s jacket, she pulled out the small laser cutter that her fiancé also had on his list of must carry, and sliced up some more quick bandages and began first aid on the woman’s legs.

Halfway through the first wrapping, the doctor reached down and touched her hand. “I can’t feel it. Haven’t been able to for a long time. You’re not hurting me.” And she pointed to a half-crushed piece of equipment lying amongst the rubble.

A hover chair.

Kayo caught her eyes for a moment, but then hurried on to prevent the woman from slowly bleeding to death, whether she could feel it or not.

In the end, the IR operative managed to conserve enough material to bind the doctor’s legs together and immobilise them completely.

The woman smiled briefly, her fingers going once again to Scott’s pulse. Her brother mumbled something and Kayo slid herself around so he could see her.

His eyelids were drooping, but he was fighting to keep them open. “K, sorry.”

She rolled her eyes. “For what? This isn’t the first time a building has fallen on either of us.”

“Virgil’s gonna be pissed.”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled, ignoring the fact she didn’t know his location or status. “The building is going to get it good. He is going to kick its ass.”

Scott smiled, an exhale of a laugh crumpling into a grimace. “Wish he’d get on with it.”

She reached out and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing away a single pain-filled tear.

Then as if in telepathic answer, there was a roar of machinery, followed by the familiar whine of her fiancé’s exo-suit in action.

The satisfying grind of shifting brickwork and finally his voice. She loved his voice at any time, but right now, she had to admit it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Kay?! Scott?! Can you hear me?”

“Virgil!” His name danced from her lips.

“Kay! Oh thank god.” More sounds of shattering brickwork. His breathing as he worked echoed over his external comms. “Status?”

“Three of us. Civilian. Female. Lacerated legs. Moderate bleeding.” She caught the doctor’s eyes. “Medical history of paraplegia.” She took a breath. “Scott.” She looked down at her brother. Still fighting to stay conscious. “Conscious but injured. Broken arm, leg, ribs and perforated abdominal cavity.” It hurt just to say it.

“Copy that.” Something outside crashed with attitude. “And you?”

“Concussion and simple bruising.” A pause. “I’m okay.” Love, I’m okay.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. There was another crash and a grunt. Light flickered around them through gaps in the rubble. Moments later, her fiancé tore through the last of the brickwork, his hydraulics wheezing as his chest heaved, his eyes darting between her and his brother.

Gordon and Alan broke the tableau by dashing in from behind him, a backboard and kit each, followed by local paramedics. There was a flurry of medical assessment, Scott attempting to yell, Doctor Harris equally yelling at him to shut up and keep still. Gordon taking charge and setting his eldest brother straight in the sharpest tones possible, enough to have everyone staring at him for a matter of seconds.

“Way to go, Gords.” Alan muttered the words, but was focussed on the doctor, busy securing her to the backboard.

Kayo struggled to her feet, ignoring the attention of the paramedic attempting to keep her down. Her body creaked as she walked over to Virgil. His eyes were on her, then on Scott, on her again, his chest still heaving from his exertions. She knew he was moments away from shedding the exo-suit and diving into help.

She put her hand onto his chest and felt his heart pounding through several layers of uniform and her glove. “He will be alright.” He had to be.

Then Gordon and the paramedics were racing past them out into the Australian summer sun, the blue of the sky denying the weeks of unseasonal rain that had caused the landslide in the first place. Alan followed shortly after with the doctor spouting off Scott’s condition even while being carted off herself.

She shook off the paramedic who accosted her again, and suddenly they were alone.

One arm slipped out of the exo-suit and she was suddenly in a crushing hug, her bruises protesting. He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

It was one self-indulgent moment and then he let her go. His voice was deep and hoarse. ‘Let’s get you checked out.” His hydraulics wheezed as he slipped his arm back into the suit and gestured her forward.

She blinked at the sunlight piercing her eyes, but straightened and walked out from under the building.

-o-o-o-

End Part One.

Part Two