#yet others swear its a writhing mass of shadows

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 57

Cryptid Batman but… While at first it was all tricks, simply fear and shadows and tricks of the minds, that doesn’t stay the case. It’s barely noticeable at first, the way the grunts deepen to something akin to growls by the time he takes a small child from the circus in. It’s not too alarming when their vision in the darkness gets better or their skin feels as cold as a corpse the moment they step into the streets. 

It’s hard to explain to Jason when his own teeth begin to sharpen and nails become talons the first time he puts on that domino, when it almost seems to meld with his skin into downy feathers. 

It’s hard to stay in denial with each new clan member about how much Gotham has sank Its claws into their bodies of mortal flesh and bone, how much they’ve shifted from the forms they were born with. 

[pyjamac]

aiweirdness’s halloween botober prompts expanded upon by archivistbot. enjoy!

1. Howling canine ghosts scale the cathedral town pillars,

And the bones of the past their rusty shears.

Above a rattling rain the sky is black,

And the lights of the city flicker and die.

2. Leaves shaped like pumpkins litter the sidewalks, the season painting them in a sickly halo of vibrant red and orange. A woman walks past, holding a baby. The baby is covered in hands, faces, and arms, each with a different size, the arms twisted at a strange angle to the curve of the head.

3. Spiderwebs grow luscious on wet pumpkin grins. Have you ever seen how mesmerizing it is to watch the mummified body of the fruit transform into a spindly, wrinkled, new form? Amazing!

4. 'Thank you' trees lean out of residences, and the roofscapes are often barely visible from the high summer heat, it’s easy to miss the outlines of the structures here. The roads become dirt, the hedges are overgrown with shrubbery and the buildings sit there, too, tangled together. The contrast is made more stark by the uneven palletisation of these structures.

5. Black insects settle leaves and twigs over the damp patches of damp earth, and the lightless, empty sky of the city is punctuated by the dull glow of new suns.

6. Mouth mouth mouth mouth mouth mouth, the dead sea air pressing in on all sides, while the sun is in the sky, the sun is up in the sky, and the world is round the world, and the sea is forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever, forever

7. Snaking cobwebs mass on stalks of dead grass and wriggling through his open mouth, Philip Jennings looked up. He saw what was inside. Was it the end of him? Was it the end of everything? The level of abstraction that the nothing that floats above the level of reality?

8. Red eyeballs hit backlit branches, and a warm blue light spilled through from the open window. I could hear Dennis whispering to himself, softly to himself, that he’d done something right.

9. Wet forest steps on soft squirrel skins. There are no lights here, but the moon is bright, and casts everything in a sickly yellow. The only sound was the click of a boltgun against the barrel, and the sound of the bolt firing as the gun whistled its deadly message.

10. Murmurous forest insects smell caramel apples, creeping and twitching through the damp earth where the treat was dropped. They move slowly, unsteadily, and there is a sharp, snapping screech as they swoop down. They kill slowly, but they kill.

11. Haunting trees grow cuter on lighter dirt, and the sky turns a sickly pink. I can hear my father in the distance now, and see the patches of scorched wood where he’s buried. I can hear his voice, though it isn’t entirely clear what it is commanding me to do.

12. Planet-sized moon speaks 'hello' to us in a language we barely understand, but it seems to have good reason for its appearance.

It is a world I lived in for nearly two decades now, and it is a world I will continue to see in all my fondest, most abiding memories. A world so cold upon the shore, so empty, and yet so beautiful. A world so full of death, and yet so alive. A moon so bright and beautiful upon the sky.

13. The night sky kisses blood oranges lined with white and blue and red. I can see a small group of figures moving in the sky, slowly but surely gaining scale. Their movement is slow and, if not for the jagged edges of their weapons they might pass for human. Their eyes are a blur, and their smile is nothing but teeth.

14. Headless animals shiver in their sleep, and the world writhes on the edge of a precipice. You walk along, your boots crunch soft straw in the pen, and your shoes are stained with blood.

15. Mustaches creep creepily around his apartment, his neighbors started to notice that it left his face every night.

16. Slouching gargoyles lay spooky stones by the door, and the kitchen was decked out in a varied selection of fire.

17. Something is sitting in the center of the spectre tapestries. It is the thing that waits for those who would lose their way, and it is the one that plays its tune.

It is the one that begins in the quiet of the forest and reaches out into the very marrow of the world. It is the one that is not a thing, but is all that is, and which holds the answer to the question, How is it that I can love you? And if I cannot, what am I to do?

I see you in my dreams, and you would not hear me. But I know you, so I ask you. Are you there?

I ask you, are you there?

18. The unseen graveyard stretches for miles, far beyond the shore. And in the quiet that follows, the funeral dirge of that land sings.

19. Deep-skulled jack-o’-lanterns smell the warmth of my nose as I inhale it, the deep, musky smell of blood and wool and skin.

20. This town is filled with orange dust, cluttering the street and obscuring the sun.

And in the middle of the town, where the roads once met, there’s only one street: the one that goes right up to the house where the Reverend lives.

It is that street that leads out of the town, and down the steep incline where the ground oozes whenever the Reverend walks. It is that street that I now see, and that is where I will follow.

I will follow it as it leads out of the town and over the edge of the cliff. I will see the house, and the footprints that lead further into it, and the blood that flows from the wounds that followed him.

21. Mist-sheep chew on tombstones, and I think I’ve got a soft spot for you.

22. A scarecrow cuts a pumpkin with a sharp scythe from a wooden block. She rides on top of it and looks over it. She sees something staring at her from the pumpkin.

23. The graveworm snatches out the eyes of strangers who come by and threatens them in language that no one understands. The hunger is in its mouth, and it smiles as it waits for those who will soon be in its teeth.

24. Mist lamps glow with circling green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange and green and orange… it’s like… it’s like there’s, it’s a, it’s a fog machine, or something?

25.Monsters crawl through alien fursona on the streets of Tokyo, and people come running begging for help. There are no monsters in this story, but people do make monsters out of each other.

26. Spooky house skulls peeking out of the dreamlike brambles, and I swear I saw the outline of a long, thin hand. It slowly stalked its prey, darting between them like a hungry vulture.

27. Gangly moonlit grave rabbits lurk outside the windows of the church, and I can hear the regular chirping of the birds outside.

28. Murder rats roam the streets below the buried Earth Church.

The sky is blue and seeps with an invisible sickness; the chill of the November air is still in your bones, and you are wrapped in a thin blanket of damp. The churchyard smells of rot.

29. A shrub plays the banjo from the shadows, and the tune is as old as the hills, and it is the mood that suits me, as it is the harmony that makes me happy, and it is the song that I am. It is the only song that I will ever truly know.

30. Pumpkins melt quietly, quietly into the winter night, and the world seems to forget the rain.

31. The white skull leans out of the tower of the Palace of the End. The vacant blue skies of the prison are mirrored in the windows of the other side. It is an empty place, the last occupant has left it locked that fateful day.

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #11

Prompts:

74. Rome

46. "Hold me just a little longer."

15. Tackle Hug

Rook Hunt x Reader

Summery: The Gods are waging war and you wait for your God to come back patiently. But, when the war leaks into the mortal realm, will he be able to get to you in time?

TW: Blood; Violence; Threats; Religious Themes (very loose)

Word Count: 1,594

A note from Fel: This one, I've had done for over a damn week??? Like, I love Rook to death and my girlfriend really likes this one so like * high fives self * ALSO I LOW KEY WANT TO DO A SERIES WITH THIS??? IT'S JUST- I HAD SO MUCH FUN (if y'all want to send in any requests centered around this, you will own my whole H E A R T)

It had been a long time since he had waved to you, walking off into the forest, his bow slung over his shoulder with his quiver of arrows hanging from his hip. You had watched as the shadows devoured your god that night.

The seasons had changed and yet the angry clouds, rumbling with thunder lingered throughout each of them. Now, a thin frost had covered the fields, leaving you to shiver and pull your shawl closer to you. You stood at the start of the forest, the looming trees acting as a wall. You grip your basket tight in your arms, shifting the dried meat and the few fruits and cheeses you managed to save, the loaf of bread still warm. Your friends had tried to tell you not to go- told you that the gods would not be back for a long time. The war in their world was too important. You knew that. You knew that the first time a shower of red poured down on you and the fields you were tending to. You had watched as your neighbors fields faded, still hesitant to pray to lord Epel for good harvests. And, yet, you couldn’t just give up- not on your god, not on the one who so gently took your hand that night and saved you from the bandits who had burned your village to the ground; who burned your family to a crisp.

“You have no need to fear,” he had said to you, picking you up in his arms and cradling your head close to his heart. “I will protect you no matter what, for you looked up to me and asked for me to save you, Mon Clair de Lune.”

He had taken you to this village, where the gods held a special spot for the people- giving you the home closest to the forest. He had asked you if you knew how to draw a bow and you told him you did. You think that’s when the two of you truly connected.

The laughs and shrieks of joy as he would chase you around the fields and trees just to wrap his arms around your waist were memories you held dear to you everytime he went back into the forest to answer Lord Vil’s calls (no one could deny Venus his wishes).

“I will be back, Mon Clair de Lune. Je t'aime.” He whispered into your hair, running his hands along the expanse of your back.

It had made you nervous when he was hesitant to let go, like he was afraid he wasn’t going to come back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and cheeks before turning and waving with a soft smile.

You sigh, another shiver shot through you as the wind picked up. Your eyes squeezing shut and you blow a breath of white air out from your lips. Maybe you’d see if Ace (you refused to call him Lord Ace, you were much too close for that by now) could dial down on the winds- though it might not even be him dictating these winds for once.

You sigh, turning to go back to your home when you hear a strange gurgling noise to your side. You furrow your brow- it almost sounds like a creek, you think as you turn to see where the noise was coming from. There, off in the distance, a black mass pulsated and writhed. You felt yourself go stiff as it jerked to and fro, red dots rolling around the expanse of its flesh until they finally pointed forward to look at you. The basket in your hands dropped as you turned to dash somewhere away from the village, as you hear flesh tearing and a bone rattling shriek leave from somewhere behind you.

You rush past the fruit fields and through the flower beds, praying that Jack could forgive you as you feel the delicate stems crunch beneath your foot. The sound of thundering steppes racing behind you causes a ball to form in your throat, pushing yourself to run faster and faster.

You had hit the creek, the bottoms of your wool pants and boots frigid in the rush of cold water as you slosh through it. You’re almost to the other side when you stop: yellow eyes stare at you through the leaves of the bushes. The shrieking comes to a stop behind you and you look over your shoulder to see the black mass staring past you as you turn back. The eyes had moved, now well above the branches of the tree, you can make out long arms, veins straining underneath skin, and white teeth glinting in the light of the early morning sun.

You nearly begin to rush up stream when a voice says, “I wouldn’t.”

You freeze, looking back at the pair of eyes to see a long snout peeking out from the bushes.

It’s mouth smiles, showing off sharpened fangs, as it steps further into the light. It towers over you, hunching over as it pushes branches out of the way. “You look delicious- all of the humans here do.” It hums to itself as it takes more heavy steps towards you. “Maybe it’s because you all have been blessed by the gods-” it throws its’ head back to release a wheezy laugh- “the ones that left you to fight a war they won’t win.”

“The gods will win.” You’re surprised with how much confidence you say it, but you try not to let it show as you watch it tilt it’s wolf-like head to the side.

“Not if you are all dead. Gods have nothing without their worshippers, you know?”

You shiver from the mix of the cold water and the realization, crinkling your nose at the smell of rotten meat and old blood that wafts from it’s hulking body. You look up at it, glaring. “Do-” you almost gag at the smell and it almost seems to laugh- “do not doubt the strength of the gods. They’ll come back to us and they will save us no matter what.”

“You put so much stock into them, human.” It crouched on its haunches, sliding a hand under your trembling chin. “So cute and delicate.” You can hear the other behind you shuffle, grunts and wheezes following its movements. The other in front of you laughs again as it watches your gaze begin to shift. “Do not take your eyes off of me.” Your eyes stare at it, swirling with a dread that it finds positively delectable. “I will take your head without you realizing it.”

Your vision began to grow glassy as its maw stretched wide; hot, humid breath, that smelled of rot, hitting your face as a row of giant teeth showed itself to you. You clasp your hands together, praying with all your might, with every ounce of your soul, that Rook would come and save you. That your huntsman would come and shoot down the beasts that wished to devour you.

Just like that night when he had first saved you.

"Si ma lune prie pour que je vienne, je le ferai.”

The creature screamed in pain, the sheer volume shaking your bones and piercing deep into your skull. It shoved you away, your body falling under the frigid stream of the water. You hear a muffled scream from above as you break the surface of the water. You gasp as you suck in air, dragging yourself to the side of the bank where Rook rushes to meet you.

You're leaning on your elbows as you catch your breath when Rook’s body barrels into yours, knocking you back with a loud ‘oof!’ coming from you. His face nestles into your neck and you swear you feel him tremble. “R- Rook?” You wrap your arms around him, running them along his back to see for any wounds. “Are-” you breathe out a cold breath- “are you ok?”

He’s muttering in that tongue he adores so much (French- you remember him calling it), squeezing you tighter.

“Rook?”

“Hold me just a little while longer.”

You freeze, your eyes blurring with tears at his tone: devoid of everything carefree and casual. He sounded like he was in pain. You wrap your arms tighter around him, burying your face into his neck.

“I am so sorry, Mon Clair de Lune. I should have come sooner.” He pulled away, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his green eyes glassy. “Were you afraid?”

You blink, trying to keep the tears from spilling over your bottom lashes. “I was.” You close your eyes. “But, I knew you would come for me. I knew the gods wouldn’t abandon us.”

He laughs, soft and tired. “You are too important for me to let you die so easily.”

“And I will not die so easily as long as you will it.” The quiet that settles between you two is gentle and you can’t bring yourself to want to leave his embrace despite the cold of your wet clothes seeping into your skin and making your bones ache. You open your eyes to look into his. “Is… Is this truly going to be a war?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’ll stay by your side. No matter what.”

“And I shall protect you no matter what, Mon Clair de Lune.”

He presses his lips against yours and you let yourself melt into it, holding onto the last semblance of peace that may allow you rest for a long time.

<The Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 19/?

@turtlepated @mel-time @werwulfy @bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @monsterlovinghours @infptarius @sweetcat-666 @strange-n-unbluusual @go-whovian-universe @heresathreebee @fireflower1015 @genderless-cryptid @rainingpaint

SFW. Captured, and something comes through.

`

Pate’s heart plummeted into her stomach as all the assembled eyes turned at once in her direction at the young man’s shouting.

For a beat, if she held very still, they had trouble picking her out in her black clothing from the shadows in which she hid, but the red haired woman spotted her at once.

“Take her,” she commanded in an unbothered tone, and two large robed figures broke from the circle and converged on her.

Pate swore and darted for the door but just as her hand grasped the knob and pulled it open one of the hooded figures, a man, reached out and slammed it shut, grasping her wrist with his free hand. Pate immediately pulled away from him, yanking on his grip with all her might while another man came up behind her and threw his arms around her shoulders and middle.

“Get off me!” she demanded, elbowing him in the ribs as hard as she could but it was no use. He let go of her shoulders and grabbed her arm, wrenching it painfully behind her back and making her gasp while the other man took her other arm in both hands. They held her between them and marched her, fighting uselessly all the way, back to the red haired woman.

When they reached her the men forced Pate down onto her knees before her, each keeping a hand on her shoulders to keep her down. The red haired woman smiled down at her with a sickly satisfaction.

“Well well,” she drawled. “I must admit, I thought you might come. I didn’t think you’d be so foolish, but then you had decent enough incentive.”

At that she stepped aside and Pate saw past her, through a gap between the mirrors, her eyes finally meeting those of Beetlejuice.

⁂

His jaw slackened as he stared up into the hole in the ceiling, the hole that shouldn’t be there, that wasn’t of this world or this plane or this universe. The color of it was no color at all, a pitch black so pure it burned, and yet movement writhed within it. Something too large to fit through the opening these people had created, but with mounting dread Beetlejuice remembered from one of those Disney nature shows that octopuses could squeeze through spaces that seemed impossible, and the thing above him would surely have even better tricks. The upward pull against him continued against his will. The tendril that descended nosed about, and instinctually he realized that his shadow mass was vital to this--his Father would consume him for the energy to fully cross the barrier. More shouting and chaos was happening outside the circle he was trapped in. They must have caught sight of Rigel. They must have realized their ritual was working, and they were starting to celebrate. Morena must be ecstatic in her triumph--

A familiar voice shouting, “Get off me!” broke through his staring paralysis.

Pate.

Beetlejuice tore his eyes away from the hungry void, a move that felt like he was leaving layers of flesh behind. He ignored the pain and shrieked,

“PATE!” in a voice that rocked the foundations of this crumbling building, that overrode the chatter of the cultists that even stunned Morena for a moment.

He snarled and driven by rage and fear that his lover was here and was now held by these people, the specter flung himself at the chalk circle with a fury that eclipsed anything he’d done before. Talons and tentacles and teeth attacked the invisible barrier, pushing its limits, all the while he spat, “Let her go--fucking let her go, I’ll fucking kill you, I’ll fucking eat your souls--Pate! Pate, no--let her go--Rigel, help her, Rigel please--”

He’d never have thought he’d be begging his brother for help, but desperate times . . . Pate was on her knees, so close but so far, while Morena gloated over her. “--don’t you touch her--I fucking swear, you cunt--”

The witch looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a beautiful smile, enraging him more. Deliberately, she cupped Pate’s chin to wretch her head up and to the side, so he could have a perfect profile view of her before leaning down to press a kiss on her lips.

Beetlejuice redoubled his efforts to free himself at the brazen display of superiority. They’d forced Pate to the floor several steps away from where Eli--that weak, conniving bastard who had been too scared to even give him his real name!--had propositioned him, but a tentacle found the patch that had been made on the containment circle. It was similar to the minute cracks he’d used to escape Lillian’s mirror, and he had plenty of practice moving through those, didn’t he? He kept up the assault to try and claw though to Pate, drawing attention from the cultists right where he was so no one was watching one errant tentacle, and he worked frantically to get that one spot open, because he could slip through impossible spaces too, he would be out and he would tear these people apart like tissue paper and revel in their blood--

Something snagged him from behind, yanking him off balance as deep icy pain shot through him. An involuntary look backwards showed him one of his Father’s tentacles had made contact with one of his.

His plan might have worked too if he, like the rest of them, hadn’t forgotten the eldritch beast coming through the ceiling.

⁂

Beetlejuice’s desperate cries and threats, his feral attempts to free himself from whatever invisible barrier kept him contained tore at her heart. Pate struggled uselessly to throw off the hands that held her, glaring daggers up at the naked woman who gloated over her.

“I remember you,” Pate spat. “I saw you in my dreams. What the hell do you think you’re doing here? Let him go!” Naturally the red haired woman only chuckled, as if the whole affair were quite humorous.

“I think not,” she replied with a Cheshire cat grin. “He has a grand purpose to fulfill, and soon enough you will do the same.”

She reached out once again and took Pate’s chin, gently this time, turning her head side to side as if examining her. Furious at her own helplessness, Pate jerked herself away from the woman’s touch.

“I remember you as well,” she purred. “Your powers have developed quite a lot since I first became aware of you. Not that it has any real relevance to your situation, since my own are far superior.”

She spared a backward glance in Beetlejuice’s direction, pronouncing her next statement louder for his benefit.

“You’ll make a suitable offering to the King in Yellow, even with your meager abilities.”

Pate’s lips drew back in a snarl, but the two robed men continued to hold her down. Beetlejuice had gone quiet, not responding to the woman’s not-so-thinly-veiled threat to feed his lover to some sort of ghastly monster from another dimension. Pate craned her head to see around the woman, to get another glimpse of him, and what she saw filled her stomach with ice.

In the air a few feet above the dirty floor there was a black shadow that wasn’t cast by anything. It floated, disconnected and unnatural, like a black disc and Pate was ludicrously reminded of the old cartoons where the zany protagonist produced a ready-made hole that could simply be slapped against a wall for a quick escape. This one simply hovered, ominous as a thunderhead, but it wasn’t just the shadow that so unnerved her.

Inside that blackness, something was moving. It was hard to tell, because whatever was within it was just as black as the void that contained it, but there was one single tentacle, dark as crude oil and bearing the same slight iridescence, worming its way through the opening. Beetlejuice, she deduced, had gone quiet because this searching tendril had reached down and latched hold of one of his own tentacles. Pate’s heart hammered in her chest as a second and then a third inky tentacle, each one as big around as a man’s arm, gently breached the barrier in search of other tentacles to grasp hold of.

With some difficultly, as if her eyes had been glued to the horrific tableau unfolding behind the circle of mirrors, Pate wrenched her gaze back up to the woman.

“What have you done?” she said, and it was spoken with no venom or anger, only bewilderment and fear.

Cued in that something was happening within the circle, the red haired woman turned to see and let out a rapturous gasp, taking small steps closer towards the circle.

“It’s coming,” she breathed, enthralled and joyous. “The shoggoth is coming!”

Pate didn’t know what a “shoggoth” was, but if the twisting of her insides and the growing feeling of dread were anything to go by it wasn’t going to be good. Somehow she had to get free, she had to get Beetlejuice and Rigel and get them all out of here before this insane woman and her entourage of lunatics got them all killed.

tbc . . .

[yandere-daydreams]

A spicier Yandere!Villain!Izuku/Reader for an absolutely lovely anonymous commissioner, featuring just a little Katsuki /Reader on the side. It’s always nice to get to experiment with a scenario I don’t get to use very often, but honestly, making Katsuki absolutely miserable might just a hobby, at this point.

Title: Lasting Rivalries.

Word Count: 2.0k

TW: Noncon, AFAB!Reader, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, and Slight Exhibitionism.

The air tasted like mold.  

You could’ve sworn you’d fallen asleep in the cold, brisk atmosphere of Katsuki’s apartment, where every draft carried the vaguest traces of bleach and even the dust was neatly polished. Wherever you were now couldn’t be the same place, hell, you doubted it was the same building. The mattress underneath you was warm, uncomfortably so, the kind of damp, sticky heat that only radiated off of objects with a decade’s worth of grime. It was dark, the walls a bare, desolate grey and the few functioning lights only seeming to highlight how obscured everything felt, out in the open yet hidden by some thick curtain hanging just in front of your eyes. Your head felt… bad. You weren’t in pain, and you didn’t have a headache, but you almost wished you did. It would’ve been real, and that must’ve been better than whatever cotton had been stuffed where your skull was supposed to be.

You tried to roll over, intent on coughing away the blockage, but to your dulled shock, you weren’t able to do anything more than shift before falling back into place. Your wrists had been tied to something cold and metallic - part of the bed frame, you guessed, a post - but the rope was soft, seamless and smooth. A harsh distinction from the scratchy, cheap sheet that’d been spread out under your exposed back.

Oh, wait. Where were your clothes?

It was a startling realization, but you didn’t have much time to linger on it. As soon as you had time to properly feel the chill running over your skin, something replaced it. Two palms pressed into your sides, just above your hips, gloved but undeniably there, squeezing as they went, exploring. You kicked, reflexively, relieved to find your legs free enough to do so, but the mass was unmovable, catching your knee and pushing it flat against the bed with a light chuckle. You manage to focus, although your gaze was still blurry and your head still clogged, a shape forming in front of you. A silhouette, at first, then a form. A man. By the time you put a name to those hints of a face, you might as well not’ve bothered.

You would’ve recognized the voice of that monster anywhere. Even with the added smugness.

“When did they get so soft, Kacchan?” Izuku asked, a self-righteous smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. His tone was mocking, too patronizing to be genuine, but that didn’t stop his hands from falling to your waist, rubbing slow, measured circles into your midriff before moving towards your thighs and groping curiously. He continued, unprompted, not seeming to care that he’d never gotten a response. “You did that on purpose, yeah? I know you like your targets too weak to fight back.”

“Fuck off.” You didn’t have to think, your attention locking onto the interruption’s source, onto your boyfriend. Your restraints were child’s play compared to Katsuki’s, his hands encased in metal cylinders and leather belts laid across every extremity that could’ve possibly broken free. He was pinned against a cement column, immobilized, a loose muzzle strapped over the lower half of his face for Izuku’s personal enjoyment. He hadn’t been taken peacefully, either, a splatter of dried blood matting blonde hair to his scalp and his Hero get-up ripped to tatters, stripped of anything that could’ve been made into a weapon. You might’ve been jealous of how much effort had gone into capturing him, if concern hadn’t been shoved to the forefront of your mind, refusing to budge once it took its place. “Touch (Y/n) one more time and I swear I’ll--”

“Maybe we should gag him,” Izuku mused, cutting Katsuki off gracelessly. It took you longer than you’d like to admit to realize he was talking to you, but you didn’t dare indulge him with an answer, averting your eyes to the wall with a pointed glare. Izuku just pouted, crouching and nuzzling affectionately into the crook of your knee. You shuddered at the contact, but he didn’t seem to share your aversion, something lovesick weighing down his tone. “I don’t know how you put up with him for so long, angel. All those dirty words, and that rotten attitude…” He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “It had to be terrible. You need someone to love you, really love you, right?”

“I… I don’t need anything from you,” You spat, attempting to clench your thighs together. Izuku pushed them back open with a strength you couldn’t hope to counter. “Get off of me!”

“You don’t think you need me,” He corrected, prompting a groan and a series of volatile insults from Katsuki. If Izuku heard him, he didn’t feel the need to give a response, kissing the inside of your thigh, instead, his lips lingering a second too long. “You’ve been...  influenced by Kacchan. He didn’t love you like I would’ve, he didn’t take care of you. I wouldn’t have made you go out into the big, bad world every single day. I wouldn’t have been so ungrateful.” Another kiss, this one higher up. “You deserve better. I’ll give you better.”  

You opened your mouth, but anything you could’ve said was caught in your throat and choked on as Izuku took hold of your hips, pinning you down despite his attempts to buck him off. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but when a hot, eager tongue dragged along the length of your slit, the severity of your situation finally dawned on you, sparks of something callous and distant accompanying overwhelming, overpowering terror. Your mind went blank, but you flailed, attempting to kick and writhe and struggle until he let go, but your resistance only seemed to make Izuku more determined, pulling away to suck at your sensitive clit, flicking at it almost playfully with his tongue.

The pleasure was invasive, aggressive. Izuku was relentless, drinking you down like a man starved, his inexperience covered by his will to find whatever spot made your body contort and abuse it, whether that meant fucking your entrance with his tongue or drawing baseless, abstract patterns in your cunt or lapping at forcibly provoked wetness and daring you not to make a sound. You bit your bottom lip in an effort not to give him what he wanted, but his pursuit was a brutal one, the whimpers that found their way through your defenses meek and pitiful. Katsuki had been stunned into silence, but your involuntary submission seemed to snap him out of his stupor, an assumption only further backed-up by the garbled mix of ‘get away from them’s and ‘I’ll fucking kill you’s that soon filled the cramped space. Izuku delighted in that, nearly moaning against you, the reverberation sending an unpleasant tremor up your spine. You couldn’t tell what was getting him off more - your suffering or Katsuki’s.

Regardless of his intentions, your body was reacting to his ministrations, something in your core pooling and spiraling, delving into a dark, aching fire you wish had stayed untouched. Your hips nearly followed Izuku when he pulled away, straightening his back and making a half-hearted attempt to wipe away the spit and slick staining his chin with his sleeve before his shoulders slumped, a wide, malicious grin forming across his features as he looked over you. Wordlessly, he pulled off a glove with his teeth, swiping his newly freed fingers over your cunt, letting translucent fluids gather on fingertips. He held them to your lips, only hesitating for a moment before giving a command. “Lick it off,” He demanded, his smile never faltering. “Or I’ll have someone come in and slit his fucking throat.”

You weren’t proud to taste yourself on his skin, gagging when he shoved his digits down your throat and spitting when he refused to dislodge them, coughing until something in your throat tore and fell away. He only kissed your cheek, something you hoped was meant to be a reward.

You were still recovering when he started to undress, lazily unbuttoning his white dress-shirt and pulling it off, only bothering to shrug his pants down enough to free his cock. Of all things, that was what got you, how casual he acted, as if he was only admiring something he already owned. Tears sprung up in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision despite your attempts to blink them away. Izuku took care of that, though, cooing as he dragged his thumb over your cheek. It could’ve made you sick. It did make you sick. But, the sudden wave nausea did little to stop something painfully hard from rutting against your thigh as Izuku leaned down, the sensation a constant, perverted reminder of your growing misery.

“Please…” You mumbled, the words falling from your tongue reluctantly. You tugged at your restraints, trying to pull yourself into a more dignified position, but all you accomplished was irritating your already-sore wrists. “Please don’t, Midoriya, please. I’m… I haven’t done this before.”

His eyes widened, the hint of a scowl shadowing over his expression. “Poor thing, poor baby,” He crooned, the words dripping with manufactured sympathy. With one hand, he steadied himself, positioning his length at your entrance with the other, making it clear that no amount of sobbing or innocence would get you out of being defiled. “No wonder you’re scared, he must’ve neglected you for so long. But, you don’t have to worry, love. Your Izuku’s gonna take care of you, from now on.”

That was all the warning you got before he pushed into you, snapping his hips against yours and only stopping when he bottomed out inside of you. Something between a moan and a croak found its way from your throat, but you were quickly distracted from the discomfort as Izuku took up your thighs, digging his nails into your flesh and forcing your knees against your chest, something between confusion and distress flooding into your system. By the time he began thrusting in earnest, finding a steady rhythm to match the tempo of his fleeting, breathy panting, you were sobbing, trying fruitlessly to keep your breakdown at bay as a terrible, unknown pressure built inside of you, a knot forming somewhere in the bottom of your gut. You were snug around him, hot and tight and drooling, making each movement all the more tortuous, toe-curling, world-shattering. It felt like there was never a moment he wasn’t hitting something new, something foreign, something you couldn’t quite make up your mind about. Unwillingly, you clenched around him, and Izuku faltered, groaning shamelessly. You were almost glad you’d fallen so far, when you felt him twitch.

Anything that managed to numb the filth slowly spreading through your body was a mercy.

“You feel so good,” He drawled, hunching forward, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. His breath was warm on your skin, damp, your disgust unaided by the teeth soon embedded in your neck, biting into anything they could reach. He acted without care, without discretion, his only goal being to make his mark and ensure that it lasted, regardless of how much blood he had to draw to do so. “Gonna make you mine, he won’t be able to touch you when I’m done. No one’ll be able to look at you without thinking of me.” He paused, letting out the fractured bastardization of a laugh, relief heavy in the cracked sound. “I’ll knock you up. Kacchan could never give you that.”

Oh, god, Katsuki. Your head fell to the side, in search of something stable to latch onto, but he was far from a source of comfort. He was despondent, limp and motionless, his bindings slack, unneeded. Still, every muscle in his body was tense, on edge, but if he could do anything but sit and stare, you couldn’t tell. His eyes were peeled open, lips parted but no noise coming out, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to make the words. He was as much of a prisoner as you were, now. As helpless as you were, now.

Weakly, he opened his mouth, what was left of his will escaping in a miserable, wounded whisper. “I’ll fucking kill you, Deku.”

That was all it took for Izuku to finish, staining you so thoroughly, you doubted you would ever feel clean again.

[haberdashing]

Under And Over

Irene’s investigation of the dirt monster leads her to unexpected places. A Mabel/Heart of Ether crossover, and spiritual sequel to Birds of a Feather, though it should be readable without having read that first.

on AO3

Irene knew that going back into the forest alone (not counting the phone in her hand, cracked but still recording just fine) was probably- no, definitely a terrible idea.

But Irene also knew that there had been more to that living pile of dirt and branches than a family of rabbits, no matter what Aden thought, and she wanted to prove it, to learn the truth of what lay within the forest.

She had her phone, she had her radio, she would be fine. Probably. Hopefully.

“So, my big monster-hunting trek with Aden yesterday was... kind of a bust.” Irene laughed a little to herself at that understatement. Aden probably thought she was crazy before, if he hadn’t already come to that conclusion. “Maybe the problem was that two of us were there, and it didn’t want to show itself to both of us at once--strength in numbers and all that. Maybe I have to be alone to see it.”

Irene clutched her phone tightly as she added, “Well, I’m not entirely alone, am I? I have you, Rose. I’m recording this for you, after all, even if... if you’ll probably never hear it.”

A soft sigh emerged from Irene’s lips as she approached the spot where she’d seen the monster before. “The pile is still there, same as before. Doesn’t look like much right now, not when it’s standing still. I can see how Aden thought it was just a rabbit’s warren, though I still think... well, this should help me figure out the truth, one way or another.”

Irene looked at the pile of dirt and branches for a moment before turning around, making a point of looking away from it. “Aden was right about one thing, though, staring at it probably isn’t going to help. I was looking away when it started moving before, so...”

Irene waited for a moment, watching the trees shake in the breeze. The branches behind her rustled, the noise growing as she hesitated to look back.

“Okay, let’s see. If it really is just a bunch of rabbits living in there, I swear-”

Irene never got the chance to finish that sentence.

The ground underneath the branches moved and swelled, and Irene had to suppress her initial instinct to run away--she’d done that already, and it hadn’t gotten her any answers, only a series of new questions that remained unanswered. Instead, she watched the mass of dirt rise and writhe, moving slowly but steadily in her direction-

Until its movement suddenly because fast and steady, faster than Irene could manage to outrun (especially with her ankle still aching from the previous day’s fall), and this time, when the chase was over, Irene wasn’t the victor.

Her phone flew out of her hand, falling unceremoniously to the forest floor and shattering; Irene winced at the sight of it, even as the ground pulled her under. Aden was right, she should have backed up all of her recordings, but, well, it was too late now.

The earth engulfed her, and soon Irene was falling and falling and falling, with thickly-packed dirt on all sides of her, no sign of when her fall was going to end-

Until it suddenly did, leaving her on... was that a wood floor?

The landing wasn’t as bad as Irene had feared, but then, that wasn’t saying much. At least she was still conscious at the end of it all. At least she was able to get up afterwards, even if it made her muscles groan.

“I... I don’t know where I am now. Under the dirt, somewhere, it pulled me in, but it- it looks just like someone’s house, with light streaming through all the cracks in the walls. And symbols. Lots of weird symbols all over the walls... maybe Valencia would recognize them all, but I sure don’t.” Irene laughed at that, a sharp ugly laugh.

“I don’t know why I’m still talking to you. Even if my phone’s still working somewhere, there’s no way it could hear me from down here... it won’t have any of this, it’ll just seem like I... disappeared.”

Irene paused for a moment as the words sank in.

“Is that what happened to you, Rose? One mishap, one run-in with the wrong monster, and then you’re gone forever? Do they even have monsters like that in Seattle?” Irene made herself laugh, though she wasn’t feeling it.

“I don’t know what these symbols mean, I was kind of hoping one of them would look like a rose, that I could take that as some sort of- of cosmic sign or whatever, but no such luck. There is a rabbit, though, made of white light, shining through the wood. Follow the white rabbit, right? Like in Alice in Wonderland? It’s as good a plan as any, I figure.”

The rabbit symbols were all facing the same way, so Irene wandered in that direction, examining the area around her as she walked. The walls looked like those of an old wooden house, but some of them were leaking water through the seams, while others had--was that a deer there, hiding in the walls?

Whatever this was, it was definitely not a normal house, even if it might have looked that way at a glance.

The first door is the door of stone.

Out of nowhere, a wall of stone appeared in front of Irene--a wall of stone that, upon closer examination, she recognized.

“Oh, it’s--remember that park by our house that closed after sunset, or said it did, with the gate and those big stone walls? I can- I can see the mark you made here, Rose, from that time you stepped wrong when we were breaking in, and that one chunk of rock came off, and you sprained your ankle getting down after... what is that doing here?”

Irene shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, I suppose. What matters is, there’s something engraved on it now, and I know that wasn’t there before. It says...”

“My first is in fire, in frenzy and fame,

My last is in knowledge, in kindness, in knack.

A silence is central to knowing my name,

An absence once heard within learning or lack.

My whole is a term used for calling one’s kin,

And calling us, too, if you dare to begin.”

Irene let out a long sigh. “Christ, it’s a riddle. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a goddamned riddle-”

A deep breath, slowly exhaled, then another. “It’s fine, I can do this, I can handle this. Let’s see. Fire, frenzy, fame--all start with F, so it must be a word starting with that... and ending with K, then? Though two of those are silent Ks, good thing this was written out so I could see them... maybe that’s what that whole ‘silence is central’ thing is about, a, a silent letter in the center of the word?”

Irene started pacing back and forth, though her eyes remained fixed on the wall. “Starts with F, ends in K, silent letter somewhere in there probably... unless it’s a word that means silence or something instead... ‘an absence once heard within learning or lack’... a silent L, maybe, or, or they’ve both got the letter A too I guess? ‘Calling one’s kin’... ‘calling us too’... it’d be a lot easier if I knew who this ‘us’ was in the first place...”

Irene ran one finger against the cold stone of the wall as she paced. “F, L, K... throw a vowel in there, you get falk, felk, filk, folk, fulk... Folk, is that it? Calling one’s kin, like, folks... or, or maybe the ‘us’ is supposed to be the fair folk, from old-timey folklore, or something?”

The door rumbled before disappearing as abruptly as it had appeared in the first place, and Irene stepped forward into the space it had been occupying, continuing to head in the direction that the rabbit symbols were facing.

“Okay. See, I said I could handle it, right? There you go. Riddle: handled.”

Not long after, though, another wall appeared, this one made of darkened brick.

“...I jinxed it, didn’t I? Of course. Of course we weren’t done with the riddles. That’d be too easy. Alright, what do we have here...”

“My first is a pronoun, assumed when untold,

That rhymes with another that’s hidden behind.

My second is beauty man coaxed to unfold,

A thing once created for others to find.

I live in your insides, in shadow and bone,

Yet I carry tidings of love when I’m shown.”

Another deep sigh. “Alright, uh. pronouns. We’ve got I, me, you, he, she, they... ‘assumed when untold’ could be a lot of those, really... But rhyming you’ve just got he, she, me... I guess some people use he as the default? Unless it’s not a pronouns it’s rhyming with, but I’m not sure what else ‘another that’s hidden behind’ could be... so, starting with he, maybe?”

“‘Beauty man coaxed to unfold’... nope, not getting that bit, though I’m guessing it’s another word. So, two words, first one is he... ‘I live in your insides’, ick... wait, ‘tidings of love’... hearts are inside of us, but they’re symbols of love... He, art- art is beauty... Is that it? Heart?”

Again, the wall rumbled and fell away, and Irene walked forward.

This time, though, the corridor ended not in front of another wall, but in front of a door.

The third door is the door of nature.

“Is that my office door? Sure looks the part, though it’s a pretty generic-looking door I guess, just plain wood... and, yup, we’ve got another riddle:”

“I once went above, heading towards the sky,

But also am found growing close to the ground.

As past becomes present, no longer I fly,

And much has been made of my name’s simple sound.

One lost but not found, one here and yet far,

I know that you seek me, wherever you are.”

“These just keep getting tougher, don’t they?” Irene shook her head with a shaky laugh. “‘Past becomes present’... so it, it used to fly, to go upwards, but it doesn’t anymore? And now it’s near the ground? ‘Simple sound’, so probably a short word...”

Irene leaned against the wooden door, letting out a long breath as she looked at the carved letters. “I bet you’re better at riddles than I am, Rose. You always did like wordplay and such, you’d probably have this figured out in a heartbeat...”

A beat, and then it clicked. “Wait- Rose. Rose as in rising, but past tense, grows near the ground, ‘a rose by any other name’... ‘One lost but not found, one here and yet far’... I am seeking you, Rose. I always will. Is that you, Rose? Are you the answer?”

The door squeaked open, and Irene saw a chaotic scene unfolding behind it.

It looked like there was a party of some sort going on there. Music, lights, all the stops pulled out. But a lot of the guests looked far from your usual party-goers, and some of them didn’t even look human...

Irene took a few tentative steps forward, but she didn’t even notice the door closing behind her.

No, what she noticed was a familiar face chatting with two extravagantly-dressed woman Irene didn’t know, a face that made Irene’s heart ache and yet also made it whole again.

“Rose?”

“Irene!”

Rose’s embrace was warm and firm and right, and Irene never wanted it to end.

[nelllraiser]

BM and TJ: A Light Snack | Frank & Nell

TIMING: present. LOCATION: soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: frank gets more than he bargained for on his shift in the form of a bar fight that nell may or may not have started. he doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Soul on the Rocks wasn’t Nell’s usual haunt when it came to getting a drink. It had something of a reputation for housing seedy guys who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Not to mention Creepy-Joe who just stood in the corner as if it was his job. But the often questionable nature of its patrons also made it a decent place to pick up a few supernatural bounties from time to time, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that she was up to her ears in hospital bills that needed paying. So Soul on the Rocks would have to do. Regrettably, it didn’t seem that a new job was in the cards for her tonight, and it couldn’t have been all of fifteen minutes before some guy had already managed to piss her off with comments that weren’t welcome even after she threatened to break his fingers. Sure— she technically threw the first punch, decking him clean across the face before he could realize what was happening, but as far as she was concerned he’d been asking for it. It only took a quick breath for the other bar-goers to smell a fight brewing, and quite a few of them readily joined in, always eager to get the blood pumping. Soon enough there was a notable mass of writhing and punching humans, with Nell at the center of it trying to get a hit in wherever she could manage it. “It’s not my fault you’re an ugly bastard!” she yelled blindly at the latest person to try and kick her.

What godly force did Frank manage to piss off in his past life that every shift he’s on at the piss pot bar somehow ended up with somebody getting their teeth kicked in? Somehow, in the end, it was usually always Frank. Pheromones, he found were only of any use when the want to fuck is greater than the will to fight, Frank’s--what word did the shrink say to use? Not curse...ahh yes-- ability only served to fuel the former. Which was probably for the best. With great effort, Frank put away the glass he had been cleaning, and threw the towel over his shoulder--not unlike a willing fighting entering a ring. Only thing was, Frank wasn’t a willing fighter. He just wanted to do his job, get paid and go home. Frank wanted lots of things, like not wanting a stray elbow to ram into his side from an over-zealous spectator. “Move,” came after he had already physically moved that, and several other bodies from his way. An easy task when you towered over a lot of them. Frank had to move a lot of people in his job, it was probably one of the reasons why he was hired. At the centre of the commotion, he grabbed the closest body to him, taking care that it was skin on clothes and not the alternative. He pulled one back and pushed at the other, creating a separation that (hopefully) reason could exist in. That was Frank, he was reason. “Alright people, you wanna beat each other’s face in, you do it outside. Not in here. Let’s all be adults about this, no one needs to be kicked out.” Fuck, he was fucking tired.

Nell was in the zone, kicking and punching and dipping like she was back in the supernatural fighting Ring she’d been a part of no more than a few months ago. Before… helping to blow it up, of course. Ever so slowly, the crowd was seeming to thin, and she could hear a booming voice ring out over it, though the words were hard to actually make sense of. All of the sudden, a large, blond shadow moved over her, and it seemed that another had entered the fray. He was huge, but that didn’t stop her from sending him a challenging glare, a frown etched onto her lips as the adrenaline continued to pump through her veins, her heart thumping in unison with the simple manta of ‘fight’ that was running through her mind. She still couldn’t quite figure out what he was saying over the din of the scuffle, but decided it didn’t matter. If he wanted a fight, he could definitely have one. “Fuck off!” she yelled without thinking, and as his arm came close, she reflexively reached out to bite, like an angry puppy that was working off of instinct. Perhaps if she’d taken a single second longer to look at the man she would have recognized him as one of the bartenders, but thinking before action had never been her strong suit in situations like this.

Frank has been kicked, punched, headbutted, slashed, and in every other manner in which is violent. He’s yet to have been bitten however. His first thought shouldn’t have been (but it was) oh...this is different. His second thought was, “what the fuck?!” As he grabbed the girl by the scruff of her shirt and pried her teeth off his arm, a wet dotted half moon embedded into the skin as a reminder of his misjudgement. This proved to be another momentary relapse of attention that resulted in a fist across his jaw from her opposer. One that carried enough force behind it to jerk his head to one side. Now, Frank seldom got angry, and he wasn’t angry now, honestly! What he was, was loud, and stern, and the two were often mistaken for one another owed to his size. This was probably another reason why he was hired. “That’s enough.” One hand still firmly holding the scruff of the little she-wolf-- wisely keeping her at a distance where no teeth could attach itself onto any unsuspecting limbs-- the other grabbed the collar of her opposition’s shirt, as he hauled them both toward the door. With more force than he had intended, Frank shoved idiot number two out the door, watching with some small sympathy as he stumbled toward the curb and then onto his face. His jaw reminded him that he need not waste anyway. Now, to idiot number one. “You,” he said, “now I’m gonna let you go, but I swear to god if I so much as see a single tooth…” Gingerly, he does.

When she felt the hand tug her by the collar, some cursed cross between a snarl and a growl found itself rising from Nell, and she instantly started squirming, trying to get a hit on anything she could touch while trying to move enough that he would be forced to drop her. “Let go of me!” she yelled insistently as a warning to a man who was well over a foot taller than her, apparently uncaring of any possible consequences, and still not quite having the clarity in the haze of the fight to realize that this man worked here. She could feel her magic kicking in and pooling in her gut, asking for direction as fight soundly squashed flight into a pulp, running away having never been an option. Unleashing any magic probably wouldn’t be wise at the moment, though— and she tamped the rising feeling down as she was finally released, still refusing to stay still the entire time to the door and even for a moment after the man’s hand had left her collar. “Who the hell do you think-” Nell had been in the middle of asking who exactly this man thought he was, but she finally got a good enough look at him to recognize him as one of the people that had been on the other side of the bar, slinging out drinks. “Oh…” she said rather ungracefully as realization dawned on her. He’d been trying to break up the fight, hadn’t he? “He started it!” she insisted with a wild point towards the man that had just been tossed to the curb. In another moment her arms crossed over her chest, and the rampant aggressive nature that had been on display before ever so slowly began to chip away. Oh shit. She’d bit him, hadn’t she? And not in the way most men liked. “If you see a single tooth you’ll what?” It was less of a genuine challenge and more of a beginning of trying to salvage things.

That was a good point. What was he going to do? The answer was one he knew immediately and so did pride, and it halted the reply on his tongue. Nothing, Frank wasn’t going to do anything. What were the alternatives? Throw her to the curb? Swing a wild fist at her face? Anger had lost its hold on the girl and he could slowly see reason and comprehension formulating behind her eyes as she was no longer blinded by its red lens. Any suggestion of further violence would be ill advised, and while Frank wasn’t the smartest guy around, he wasn’t stupid. In any case, Frank never had much of an appetite for violence. He was always the type more ready to take the punch than to cash it out. Kindness, he thought, was a more valuable currency, although it wasn’t as if he readily gave those out either. “I’m going to call you a cab and send you home.” Somehow that sounded more menacing in his head. He was already pulling out his phone and punching in a series of numbers. One of them was getting a cab, and it was up to her whether she’d be joining the sorry idiot that was slowly picking himself up from the side of the curb. “Sit down, and shut up.” His previous display of bravery significantly injured, he sat down without a word. Good. Frank put his phone to his ear, the other hand absently nursing the bite mark on his forearm. “And by the way, ‘he started it’? What are you, seven? Actually...did anyone ask for your ID— hello? Hi, yeah, I need a cab at Soul...yeah, Soul for the Rocks...For one,” he turned and gave her a pointed look, “or maybe two, we’ll see when you get here.”

Nell’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his claim of calling a cab was revealed, as if she were scrutinizing it for any possible bluffs. But she didn’t have a chance to comment on it before his phone was already out, and apparently he hadn’t been joking about getting at least one cab. As the other man in question plopped down, Nell didn’t let up in glaring daggers at him, finding that entertaining enough to preoccupy her for the moment being. Her middle finger was itching to come up and flip off the douchebag, but she kept her arms firmly folded where they’d settled, trying her best not to be threatened with a cab once more. But she didn’t care much for the bartender’s phone call as he jibed at her. “I’m not seven! It’s true! He’s the one who was being a dick!” It probably didn’t help that her foot stomped instantly against the ground with the words, not unlike someone who was throwing a tantrum. “My ID?” The exasperation and indignance that entered her voice was akin to what it might have been if someone asked if she liked mimes. The most horrible of offenses. “I’m twenty-three! And it’s for one!” she insisted without hesitation, standing on tiptoe to try and get as close to the phone the giant man was holding to tell the cab driver that she’d be going nowhere in a taxi. Then she addressed the man grasping the cell phone directly. “Besides- I have my bike here!” Her thumb jabbed towards the spot where she’d parked her motorcycle. “And I didn’t even really drink.” She’d been looking for work, so getting drunk wouldn’t have been smart.

She actually stomped her foot. “Yeah, now I’m convinced.” Frank was tall, she was not, but keeping her away from his phone proved to be an uphill battle as she tried to speak into the receiver, threatening the space that he had carefully crafted between them, with each new attempt. He spared a fleeting glance in the general direction of her thumb, hoping to appease any further attempts. “Alright, alright, will you please just-- hello?...yeah, yes, I’m still here...excellent...thank you. I’ll be waiting outside. Thank you.” Now that that was out of the way. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you incapable of exercising some form of restraint? Oh and if someone is being a dick, you call security to kick them out, not start a brawl in the middle of a crowded bar.” Or bite people when they’re trying to help you! The latter never made it past pride’s careful guard, though the thought was betrayed in the form of his hand returning to nurse the tender spot. The cab pulled up not much sooner, and to keep himself from saying or doing anything else that might betray his thoughts, he turned his back to the woman and proceeded to stuff idiot number one into the back of the cab. Producing a handful of notes from his own back pocket, he deposited them into the driver’s window. “Just him. Make sure he gets into his front door please, thanks.” There was a pause as the driver muttered something through the window, Frank turned his head back to where the woman was standing. He seemed to have to think about his reply, but at last decided, “no, just this one. Thanks man.”

Nell’s frown only deepened as Frank’s sarcasm pervaded the air, her hands quickly going back into a stubborn cross over her middle. “I’m just saying,” she grumbled, not actually entirely finishing the thought aloud. This time she waited not quite patiently, but in a manner that was much more subdued than before as he finished up his call. Unfortunately, her offense was quick to return as soon as he started asking questions again. “What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you ask what’s wrong with him?” Her open palm jerked roughly towards the man still sitting desolate on the curb. “Why am I the one being yelled at for restraint when he’s the one who doesn’t keep his hands to himself! He could learn some restraint!” Her features quickly returned to something akin of an angry pout before she continued on, raising her nose stuffily into the air. “Security looked...busy.” It was a bald-faced lie. She hadn’t even bothered to look at security. Nell watched as his hand found the place she’d bitten him, and again her exterior lost a few of its prickles. “Did I...bite you hard or-?” An inkling of an apology was creeping through her voice. After all, even if the guy in front of her was making her bristle, he probably didn’t deserve to be bitten in a fight. “Is it bleeding?” she asked, trying to get a closer look. As the taxi pulled away without her in it, Nell scowled after it— as if she could burn a hole through the seat where the man she’d been fighting was sitting. “So you work here.” It wasn’t so much a question, and she wasn’t sure where she was going with it, but it was something to say that was neutral rather than combative.

“I’m not yelling at you!” Frank was in fact yelling at her. He realised this too and softened his tone to one more closely related to a sort of...diplomatic reprimand. “I’m not yelling at you, I’m just saying, there are better alternatives to fixing a problem than by punching it. And that was a test by the way. You failed. The security; that’s me. I wasn’t that busy.” At her remark, Frank’s eyes fell on his forearm, as if noticing the degree of injury for the first time. The dark spots of blood rising to colour in the indents left by the set of teeth; just sitting beneath the surface of the skin as no puncture was actually made, but still carrying with it the threat of spilling over if there was. A bigger ring surrounded the mark, red and angry, but would surely yellow and then disappear over time. Probably by tomorrow morning at the latest. Now that he was taking the time to examine his injury, he had almost forgotten that he was punched, and now that the adrenaline was no longer needed, the pain in his jaw made itself known. Frank pulled down the sleeve of his jacket. Stepping back before she could step forward. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry about it.” The change in her demeanour was welcomed progress, although this wasn’t saying a great deal considering how ready she was to, quite literally, rip into him before. “Well, I’m not here for the friendly crowd.” There was a pause as a sort of peace had settled between them, and Frank was not oblivious to how fragile it was and was even more careful not to break it. “Look, are you okay?” 

Nell was all too ready with a rebuttal to his claims of not yelling, but before she could get it out he rectified that particular situation, and she bit her words off before they could manage to surface. “I don’t know- punching always seems to work pretty well for me. And I tried to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t seem interested in doing that.” There was a flicker of humor to her voice this time, her temper once again fading into something less volatile for a moment. “Okay, well that’s not fair. You can’t give me a test without telling me. What kind of teacher are you, anyway? But you’re security?” she asked curiously, looking him over and ignoring the fact that she’d been caught in a lie. Again the disapproving curve of her mouth only dipped deeper as he tugged down his jacket. “If it’s not bleeding, then let me see,” she said— her tone firm once again, but filled with less hostility and more determination. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him stepping away. Maybe he just liked personal space? Or maybe he was worried she’d bite him again if he said something to anger her which was...fair enough. “Are you saying I’m not friendly?” she continued along the vein of a truce they’d managed to find, her fickleness in her emotions knowing no end. Confusion was quick to grip her as she blinked at his question, her knee-jerk answer of, “What?” probably too much of a give away as to how unexpected his query had been. “I mean- I’m fine,” she tentatively replied, not particularly used to people she’d bitten asking how she was doing. If any new bruises did arise from the scuffle tonight, she’d be hard-pressed to identify them with the steady collection of purple and yellow spots she generally sported from her line of work. “What about you? You’re not dying or something, are you?”

Alas, what more could Frank say to that? It wasn’t as if Soul was known to attract the upstanding citizen type. For most of its patrons, their problems could not be solved any other way so they found comfort instead at the bottom of a shot glass or a beer bottle, or a well placed fist on an unsuspecting face (and then there’s Joe, but he’s another species entirely). All Frank could really do was make sure nobody kills each other in the process; and fights never last too long when Frank’s on shift, which means he must be doing something right. “Well I’m not a teacher, I’m the deterrent.”  Frank kept his arm firmly by his side, one foot behind him in a strategic shift of weight should she prove to be as persistent as he suspected. It looked bad, yes, but that was now, and there was nothing more awkward than having someone witness an ugly injury, and the next day to find no trace of the previous night’s violence. He’d rather avoid that conversation if he could help it. “I’m saying you need to exercise restraint, and take people at their word when they say they’re fine and drop it.” However, a great deal could be said of one’s character, and their history, when their first response to ‘are you okay?’ was ‘what?’, and her reaction was not lost on him. But for the sake of keeping peace, and with no visible injury to invoke any immediate concern, he did not press. “Trust me, as long as my head stays on my shoulder, I don’t die easy.” He thought that he said it with enough casual grace to warrant no great suspicion. “I’ve worked here long enough to say with some confidence that tonight was not the worst night I’ve had. Come on Bitey McFierce, if you promise not to punch anyone else tonight I’ll pour you a beer.”

“Well if you’re not a teacher, then why are you giving tests?” Nell quipped back in the same moment the man had finished his sentence. It seemed she was still making the shift from aggressor to casual nuisance. Again, she took him in all at once, giving him a look over before saying to the tree of a man, “I bet I could take you.” It was still meant to have a home in that in between place they’d seemed to have found themselves, testing the waters of how far she could take her teasing. But then she was giving him a hearty eyeroll as he continued to preach the virtues of restraint. As for whether or not she’d drop the subject of a potential injury— she carefully mulled the thought over, deciding just how far she wanted to push. She was pretty sure she hadn’t tasted blood, and if he wanted to be some macho man and pretend he was fine when he wasn’t...it wouldn’t be her funeral. On the other hand, pure stubbornness was egging her on. “You’re bossy.” Was all she settled on after chewing the inside of her cheek. “But I should warn you I have rabies.” That was transmitted by biting, wasn’t it? She wasn’t entirely sure. But what a strange way to phrase that he didn’t go down easy. As long as his head was on his shoulders? Maybe she just wasn’t familiar with the saying, but it also made her think of how the undead were rather indestructible unless they lost their noggins. His casual delivery of the words were enough to make her brush past it, though. “Bitey McFierce?” she echoed with a cross between a scoff and an amused snort. “That’s the best you can do? I don’t know why I expected better of you, but I did....Turkey Jerky.” It was the first thing that had come to mind when she thought of things that might be hard to chew. “No promises,” she answered without thought, both being raised in White Crest and her general everyday experiences with fae nearly replying for her. Still- it was light enough to come across as still being her impish self, and Nell had intended it as such a thing. “And my name is Nell.” This didn’t seem like a moment to explain that it was short for Penelope. “Maybe you can come up with something half decent with that.”

It takes everything in Frank to bite back a retort. It would only serve to prolong this nonsense back and forth that she’s somehow trapped them in, and perhaps that was exactly what she wanted. If you can’t him, annoy them to surrender, which is why he was determined to give her precisely the opposite. “I am sure that you can,” he said, and the words, oddly, did not hold even a shadow of sarcasm. Of course, beating someone was easy when they weren’t willing to fight back, although a gut instinct told him that she was the type to enjoy a challenge or not at all. Or maybe she just enjoyed winning, who knows? He’s been wrong about people before. Although it seemed he was at least correct in her persistence, the woman would not shut up. “I am.” And he was. “Consider me warned.” He said, bearing the brunt of her nuisance with infinite patience. Although a weathered wall was not without its cracks, and the occasional jibe could, and did, muscle its way through every now and then, usually when he least expected it. “Turkey Jerky?” What the fuck did that mean? He can’t imagine a single characteristic about him, or his behaviour that might even resemble a jerky. Was he a jerk? He thought himself perfectly restrained, all things considered, her on the other hand... “Right. That’s reassuring.” Frank scratched his arm. His words were accompanied by a wary look and delivered with no great confidence. At least when he returned to his usual spot behind the bar, he knew who to keep an eye on. Nell, that can’t be a real name. A nickname, he decided. Yet deep in the pit of his stomach he felt an itch: what was her real name? This wasn’t Frank. The impulse was biological, totemic, ancient, and it made him uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck. “Frank. And I’ll let you know as soon as you come up with something that makes more sense than turkey jerky.” 

[fire-the-headcanons]

Red light pulsed in the distance, along with music and laughter. The main lobby. "Oh, thank gods it's over," Summer gasped, but Qrow drowned her out with an even more emphatic string of curses. He leapt to his feet and ran, wiping slime from the back of his neck, and the rest of them scrambled to follow.

More than a few heads turned as he pelted out into the party, still swearing and flinging ooze.

BANG.

One of the food tables buckled, the end slamming into the floor like a gunshot followed by the massive cascading crash of the dishes tumbling to the floor and shattering. A few other people screamed but not loud enough to cover Qrow's final curse as he jumped at the sound.

Someone grabbed her arm, dragging her sideways onto a bench. The rest of her team wasn't far behind—practically thrown onto the seat by two other fourth years.

"Take a minute to calm down," one of them barked.

Follow the Beacon Summer—A Bit Much

[Link to Masterpost]

[We're halfway through the book, whoa

This chapter was A Lot, and I also had to move my company's infrastructure online so everyone could work from home because of the pandemic... it's been a very, very weird month. Anyway, the chapter is finally up!!!Brief reminder that I've been using "obscura" in place of "television" because they call phones scrolls

TW for blood, death, and existential dread. You can skip down to where it says BANG on one line to skip the horror house if you wish]

*

The door rattled as something big slammed into the other side, still snarling. "Okay, moving on," Tai muttered, backing away. As one, all four of them turned and sped off.

"So, uh, you tied," Summer joked. It didn't do much to lighten the mood—Qrow giggled, high-pitched, with a glance backward. Tai and Raven just looked at each other and remained silent.

Thanks to the streetlamps outside the corridor was a little brighter than the warehouse had been, but not enough to see well. All the classrooms on the left were barricaded. Desks piled against some, barely visible through the windows of the doors, and others were convincingly boarded up.

"What is that?" Tai's voice rang with disgust. 

A sheet lay on the floor beneath a window, splattered with red. Summer's stomach twisted. Come on, guys. That's a bit much. "Someone very good at holding still," she said firmly, striding toward  it and reaching for a corner. "Oh, I bet it's one of the first aid dummies! That's clev—"

Oakley lay under it, eyes open and staring blankly into space. 

...Somehow she hadn't expected it to be someone she knew. 

They worked part-time in the campus post office, everyone knew them… The cloth slipped from her fingers and fluttered back over their face. Of… of course you'd recognize them. She stood and continued down the hall, the others falling in around her. Our classes aren't that big, we all know each other by sight at least.

"What is it?" Tai's voice wavered with concern.

They're just acting. Get it together. "It's nothing."

Haphazard piles of desks blocked the hallway ahead, but a classroom door sat open and streaming light into the hallway. The four of them crept in silently, trying to ignore the bloodstains on the walls and the thick haze of Grimm smoke trapped near the ceiling with nowhere to dissipate.

"Are we having fun yet?" Qrow whispered. Everyone else returned a weak chuckle.

They climbed through the rows of seats, outdated or worn-out textbooks crumpling underfoot with broken pencils and loose sheets of paper. An icy draft blew through the third row and they all hurried a step to be out of it. The only other open door was in the back of the room, so they headed that way despite the obstacles blocking the steps. Twice they had to climb over a bench wedged between rows.

The next hallway was worse. More debris littered the floor, and more sheets that Summer now knew better than to touch. It was darker again, too. The bright classroom had probably been there to keep their eyes from adjusting again.

"Look," Tai said, pointing to a sloppily-made sign pointing toward the east wing. "...That guy downstairs said to head for the safe zone, right?"

"Guess we follow it." Summer's hands shook, missing Gungnir's comforting weight. It's not real, it's not real. She still felt like she had to do something.

The path forced them into another classroom where a Boarbatusk roared and slammed into the walls of its cage to get to them. They ran through, eager to move on—that one was definitely not an actor.

"There's the lobby," Tai said. Debris still covered the floor but there were no more barricades between them and the 'safe zone'. On the other hand, it was getting darker again, which was probably for the best.

Qrow winced at the scene. "...When you guys said Halloween was about 'scares' I thought you meant… y'know… 'Boo!' Not…"

"A realistic depiction of a large-scale Grimm attack," Raven muttered.

"...It usually is," Tai said pathetically. "'Boo!', I mean."

It had been a triage. People lay lined up on the ground—a few on stretchers, but most on only blankets. What tables hadn't overturned held a few rolls of bandages. They'd clearly been running out of supplies, but that didn't really matter considering the small pack of Beowolves milling through the rows and sniffing at the 'bodies'. Nothing else moved.

"Help…"

The four of them scanned for the source of the feeble voice—a doctor in bloodstained scrubs sagged from the Alpha's jaws clamped around his neck. "Help."

As one, every other wolf in the pack froze and slowly turned to look at them. The unified, eerie movement sent ice down Summer's spine.

"Run?" Tai asked. The wolf furthest from them howled with disturbing accuracy and the rest rushed forward. Nobody bothered to answer him, pelting down the next hallway without discussion. To her unease, the light was still getting dimmer.

"I think they stopped chasing us," Qrow muttered, squinting behind them.

"Is that really what it's like?" Summer blurted. "Have you… ever..."

"The smell is wrong."

Raven scowled at the ground, her hair blending into the dark of the hallway and making it look like she was disappearing. "No blood or shit. It still smells like school."

"Oh. That's it," Qrow murmured.

So that's what we're fighting. Summer's hands clenched. Anger seared in her chest like an open flame. She'd never felt hatred like this before.

"Are you both all right?" she asked the twins.

They replied in unison, voices thin and tired. "I'm fine." 

Qrow folded his arms. "...I want to go back to the party."

Summer wanted to go to the Emerald Forest and turn the first Grimm she saw into a smoking pincushion. "Okay. We've almost looped back around to the main entrance. Do we push through whatever's ahead, or hop out a window?" she asked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

Tai swore loudly and jumped back from the darkened glass. The rest of them whirled around just in time to see a giant Grimm eye close outside. Something rumbled, almost shaking the air.

"Let's just get this over with," Qrow muttered. 

Summer grabbed his hand with her right and Tai's with her left, dragging them within comfortable reach. "All right, team STRQ! We walked into this mess together and we're walking out together."

"I'm fine," Raven said again as Tai pulled her into the chain too.

"Well, you shouldn't be, because this thing is messed up!" Summer declared, staring ahead into the dark. "...Here we go."

The hallway stretched on forever, eyes glowing from the depths of the classrooms on either side. Something banged on one of the doors and they darted forward a few steps as it rattled.

Help…

"...Did you hear that?" Tai whispered.

Help…

Qrow hissed, his hand tightening on Summer's. "I'm trying not to."

Help me!

"...Is that a child?" Raven said, voice a little higher pitched than usual.

Anyone!

"It's just an actor."

 "There aren't any little kids in the fourth year class!" They rounded the corner with a death grip on each others' hands.

"Tell that to her," Qrow muttered. The hallway was still dark, right up until the end where a single light shone on a little girl, even shorter than Summer, with eerily immaculate golden curls.

"Help me," she begged, making no effort to struggle against whatever bone-plated shadow curled around her middle, holding her five or six feet above the ground. "Please, help me!"

Against her will and better judgement, Summer stepped forward. There was more debris on the ground here—how many old books did the school have?—and she moved carefully to avoid slipping.

"What are you doing?!" Raven demanded, her yank stopping the rest of them short. "It's clearly a trap!"

"And it's all a game. The quicker we lose the quicker it's over."

She didn't seem any happier, but she also didn't protest as Summer stepped forward again. Qrow, on the other hand, was chanting swear words under his breath and his grip was probably cutting off the blood supply to her fingers.

"Help me," the girl sobbed again. "Please!"

"Okay, okay," Tai muttered.

"Help me." She smiled, going unnaturally stiff. "Help me, I'm hungry."

The lights brightened, revealing the twisted and disorganized mass of the Grimm poured over the end of the hallway. Fur and feathers and bone covered it like a pile of scrap, but the thing breathed, expanding and contracting around the point where the little girl emerged from the top, her arms and stomach disappearing into its mass.

A huge gash opened in its middle, glowing red and lined with teeth. The walls and floor seemed to writhe in the light, glowing violet—and then they twisted inward like a thousand arms and yanked the four of them off their feet and into its mouth. Everything was red and orange and screaming and they were falling—sliding—the walls getting tighter—slimy—

They tumbled out the bottom of the chute into another dark hallway. Red light pulsed in the distance, along with music and laughter. The main lobby. "Oh, thank gods it's over," Summer gasped, but Qrow drowned her out with an even more emphatic string of curses. He leapt to his feet and ran, wiping slime from the back of his neck, and the rest of them scrambled to follow.

More than a few heads turned as he pelted out into the party, still swearing and flinging ooze.

BANG.

One of the food tables buckled, the end slamming into the floor like a gunshot followed by the massive cascading crash of the dishes tumbling to the floor and shattering. A few other people screamed but not loud enough to cover Qrow's final curse as he jumped at the sound.

Someone grabbed her arm, dragging her sideways onto a bench. The rest of her team wasn't far behind—practically thrown onto the seat by two other fourth years.

"Take a minute to calm down," one of them barked.

Summer sagged against the wall, heart still pounding. It's okay, it wasn't real. It was never real. Next to her Tai leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in hands while Qrow returned to muttering obscenities under his breath and massaging his shoulder. And Raven…

She sat rigid on the edge of the bench, spine stick-straight and her hands clutched at the fabric of her borrowed pants. Most of the flour had fallen out.

"...Are you sure you're okay?" Summer asked. The way she stared glassily into the crowd didn't seem… right.

"I'm fine," she murmured tonelessly. "...Are… you?"

"Wasn't real," Summer said. "I just need to calm down… I... " Something twisted painfully in the back of her throat. "It's just a game. It's so dumb. I— I couldn't fight back. I felt helpless."

Raven finally blinked, looking down at her with something like surprise. "Me too."

"I guess that's kinda the point of a horror house." Tai's voice was slightly muffled by his hands. "All in favor of never doing that again?"

"Aye," Summer said, and Raven echoed her quietly.

"Not even at gunpoint," Qrow muttered.

They sat in—well, not silence, the party was plenty loud—but they all took hands again. Raven didn't even fight that much when Summer reached for hers, though she didn't lean in like the rest of them.

"Good evening, Miss Rose." She looked up blearily—Ozpin stood over them with a fresh mug of chocolate. "Is your team enjoying the party?"

Qrow muttered something that Summer rushed to talk over. "Uh, the horror house was… a bit much."

"Yes, that's probably Ebony's doing," the professor muttered into his cocoa cup. 

"I thought the gods-damned point of this party was to STOP people from drinking. Fu—"

"—n! Fun!" Summer squeaked, reaching around Tai to give Qrow a pointed shove and cutting him off.

"You need to watch your language," a horribly familiar voice said. Behind Ozpin the little girl from the… Grimm… thing glared at them over her glasses, holding a cup of punch. At least Summer hoped it was punch.

"What are you doing here?" Raven hissed.

"I'm on break." She took a slightly smug drink. "Throwing you around takes a lot of aura."

Summer's eyes widened. "You did that with your Semblance?"

"And a little bit of gravity Dust, to make you lighter." Her curls bounced as she smiled up at them.

The fourth year standing next to her offered a hand, and the two of them high-fived. "You got 'em good, Glynda."

Qrow folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. "Aren't you a little young to be at Beacon?"

"Aren't you?"

"What? No!"

"...I'm getting my knife back," Raven muttered, climbing to her feet and wandering toward the weapons check.

Tai followed and the crowd filled in around them but Summer still saw him gesture in exasperation. "Again. Why do you have one?!"

Well, she really couldn't put it off any longer. "Uh… will you grab my gloves and stuff too, Qrow?"

His eyes almost flicked to Ozpin as he nodded and climbed to his feet. "Yeah, sure."

"And maybe confiscate Raven's knife…?"

"Nah. I like my fingers where they are."

The professor raised an eyebrow at his back while he disappeared into the party. "Those two are a bit… wilder than I expected, when I met them."

Ask him. Just do it. Just ask him—"No costume, Professor?"—dammit.

Ozpin smiled down at her. "I could say the same to you, Carmine." She had to stifle a snort into her hand. "But… Truth be told, Halloween has never had strong appeal for me. I feel there is enough darkness in the world—though I would never spoil the fun for those that do enjoy it."

"I mostly like the costumes," Summer admitted.

"It can be amusing to wear a different face for a while."

"Every year since moving to Vale, I'd want to be a hero from another story. ...I never understood dressing up like the villains." 

Just ask, just ask, just ask. It felt even sillier here, with the loud music and 'spooky' lights. And dressed as Professor Carmine. Summer took a quick, steadying breath. 

"Professor, what's your favorite fairy tale?"

In obscura shows, when someone is surprised while drinking, they spit it out dramatically in a fine mist. Ozpin's cocoa revolted with an undignified glug and bubbled over to dump a streak down the front of his jacket and leave him with a hacking cough. Alarmed, Summer reached out and thumped him on the back.

"Who told you that?" he wheezed, glaring at her over the top of his glasses and wiping his mouth.

"Uh…" She steeled herself, speaking with firm determination. "That's not an answer." 

He studied her for a moment as his breath settled. When he finally spoke, his voice was neutral. 

"The Story of the Seasons."

And then he turned and left.

Next Chapter: Qrow—Mother Knows Best

[Oh, hello Glynda! What are you doing here? Besides scaring the costumes off teenagers]

[catgirl-kaiju]

Spare concept, ma'am? It's a long and dusty road and my horse needs sustenance.

Oh ho ho, we have plenty of tasty farm fresh concepts to nourish your starving steed!

Here's one that should pep your horse right up:

"You're a big kid now ( just turned 9) so you shouldn't be afraid of the basement, right? Only little kids are afraid of the basement; that's what you tell yourself.

And yet.

You could swear you've heard things moving down there, in the inky blackness. Shadows that clatter and creep on the edge of your vision. When you open the door and gaze down into that darkness your chest tightens and your stomach swims. Something is down there. You just know it.

Your parents don't believe you, of course. 'We go down there all the time and there's nothing scary down there. Just a bunch of old junk.' They're amused by your fear, but they don't exactly make you go down there. Often times they even keep the door locked. Are they hiding something?

'It's just so you don't accidentally hurt yourself. Those stairs are pretty rickety, you know?'

Makes sense, but it's still suspicious.

You have to know.

Today's the day. They left the door unlocked.

You're going down there.

Now.

Your chest is tight. You feel queasy.

Right foot first. You climb slowly, carefully down the stairs. They were rickety at that. The boards creak under the lightest step.

You take extra care to step lightly. Your chest tightens more and your eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets as you descend cautiously into the darkness.

At first you can only make out vague shapes in varying degrees of blackness, but soon your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and things start to come into focus. You see a pull chain hanging from a small light fixture on the ceiling. 

Ah, finally some proper light.

You pull it. Around you are boxes, storage bins, shelves and general clutter. Some old christmas decorations, dusty books and antique toys in various states of uncleanliness. It feels like a weight has been taken off of you and you exhale a sigh of relief. It really was just a bunch of old junk down here, like your parents had said. How silly you’d been for thinking otherwise.

As you turn to start walking back up the stairs, you hear something rustle around somewhere in the basement behind all of the clutter. Your hear skips a beat. You can vaguely make out shapes shifting through gaps in the shelves and boxes as you snap your head about to the source of the sound.

Then, your hair stands on end as a low moan emanates from the moving masses beyond your view. At first you can’t move, but slowly, you begin to walk towards the moaning. You’re shaking and there is an immense weight in your chest, but you just have to know.

You have to know what’s been down here this whole time, tormenting you with the mere impression of its presence.

As you creep around the shelves, you see them.

Your parents. It’s definitely them, but they’re skin is taught on there bones and they’re pale as chalk and they’re...

Oh my god.

They’re partially engulfed by some sort of fleshy mass. It’s largely inscrutable, however you can make out large tubes pulsating and tendrils writhing.

“We told you it wasn’t safe down here.”

You turn to see your mother and father standing there, just as you know them.

“If only you’d listened. We really thought we could leave you out of this.”

Your father’s head opens like a flower and your mother’s stomach rips open. A mass of eyes and human teeth pour out, attached almost haphazardly to limbs and sacks of unknown function. As your parents peel apart before you, you look back to see who you now realize are your real parents gasping like beached fish, unaware of what was happening in front of them. Arms, which should not be arms, grab you and you are engulfed again in darkness.

You’re a big kid now, and you’re not at all afraid of the basement.

Your parents have even let you go down to feed the creatures they keep down there. They warn you to never tell others about them; you never know how they’ll react.

You look at the creature whose face you took and a shiver comes over you, but you think nothing of it.”

Ho ho ho, I do hope your horse enjoyed that concept, and I wish you good travels. I hear the roads you’re traveling are quite tricky. I wouldn’t trust them, if I were you.

[hereliesbitches--me]

@visiblekindness asked: “We have ruined each other. Haven’t we?“ Young nakeee maiden and Sphinx lovers

A Moon is a vessel of Death,   keepers of divine life just as much as they are the extension of  Reapers. 

That , Rosie has known since the moment she awakened to this universe. Since she was assigned to her role as the guardian of the lost. When she became bound to this world, she became tied to a singular duty to protect these lands and its inhabitants from ever evolving humanity; The Lady of the Moon swore her life to keeping order and peace for all those under her light -- And yet, that sworn duty had seemingly become more.. Complex, as of late, when the fine line of duty and personal feelings began to blur together.  Because of that girl. The Herald of Death and Destruction finds herself weakened by an attachment far too personal for a celestial to have ever maintained.Yet the Sphinx’s heart strays with doubt and guilt -- not for having the feelings in the first place, but for the curse placed upon that girl for ever loving the Moon guardian who could never give her what she deserved. Thus now, the celestial makes the effort of placing a wedge between herself and the stubborn flower, for the sake of the girl’s mortal heart.

      When night falls, the cool air brings a soothing sense of serenity as the day’s heat evaporates away. The gears transition, from day to night, when the nocturnal life begins to stir from the underoots and walk about the surface fauna and foliage. This scene was Rosie’s favorite part.. Watching how life flourished before her eyes, the dawn for the creatures of her night.. Silhouetted with the soft glow of bio-luminescence the forest provided, she smiled to herself and sighed within her perch. From the cliffside, she could oversee the boundaries of her forest along the edge, ranging from the dark sea coast, to the speck of light in the distance where humanity lay undoubtedly raising hell as they often did. With the cover of darkness she dawns her true skin and stands as the blue spectre guardian, a fallen star among the people -- soon enough, Rosie should be making her rounds.. But she’s avoiding it. With good cause. Even from the height which she stands,  Rosie can see the lights dying down among the Tribe Angels below as the last rowdy members with their younglins finally go down for a rest… With them, she hopes, is her troublesome girl.

 “ Its for her own good…”  Muttered to no one in particular, Rosie lost count of the amount of times she uttered the sentence to herself in solitude when she made the effort to set a divide. She watched from the distance as the final lanterns went out.. And at last, the full nature of night takes overs the forest many called home. She waited some more..      Seconds, minutes.. Had it been an hour? Pacing restlessly like a lioness within her den, after she had the confidence that Lauren slept soundly among the others, she could emerge from her perch. A heavy breath escaped, one she had no memory of holding til she passed her reflection within the trickling pools of the cave, then she paused. Staring back were a set of eyes much darker than her own.. The spider-like Darkmoon glared blue daggers to her light, “ This is ridiculous, Rose. She’s impeding our duty.

   All this for a human..” 

Rosie can’t quite blame her other for her malice upon her.. venom dripped from the voice within herself,  the Light’s colors dim and her figure loses its opacity in her uneasy retreat. Dalia was far more practical than herself.. The better, efficient side as all DarkMoons should be. From the moment the girl blossomed into a woman, the Dark held bitter, pragmatic feelings in the trouble that would brew upon the gentle heart of the Light who was swayed easily by such a thing. Rosie knows well , the truth.. But her flawed heart continues to be their downfall. She draws her arms towards herself and stares back with wavering strength to keep her confidence,  “ Its not her fault. Its Mine. And I was about to leave anyhow! I just wanted to let things unfold..” 

“ You are a terrible liar, when it comes to me. You can’t hold secrets from yourself.” 

The figment scuffed, to which the Light’s colors returned to a bright whitened blush upon her cheeks. Filling into a solid shape, the Moon pursed her lips and jabbed a finger at the water in retaliation,  “ I’ll have you know-! ” “ Be still.”

Abruptly, two become one with a cold fusion of essence -- two minds aligning, defenses raised by the Dark that writhes about her Light. Rosie freezes, exhales a frosty breath, then reestablishes herself towards the stony walkway just by the den’s opening. Dalia coils tighter within herself.. Bringing a tension to the Light’s limbs with a narrowed gaze upon approaching presence. It takes time for her to settle and truly feel recognition.. But It was the Dark who huffed when the answer came to her first.

“ Its that Child Pet of yours..”

“Lauren?”

 Dalia retreated to the shadows of conscience as Rosie lit up in a show monochromatic shades of swirling blues. Indeed, it was that girl.. That young, moss and flower covered girl under a messy head of curls trudging up the cold stone where she shouldn’t have wandered. Excitement quickly fades and her colors dim softly when she realizes, yet again , her vow for distance has been broken. Rosie repeats her name in a low, somber murmur, “ Lauren…” You shouldn’t be here , she wants to say at first. The Sphinx drifts and flows with animate life, flicking in a spark to greet the maiden by the doorway, and stop her with what little will she has. “ You should be sleeping with the others..”       Better.  Rosie has not bitten her tongue in a jumble.  “ I told you, its safer down there.. You belong among them.   Not in this old crow’s den of death.”

      Contact to the warm copper skin , even through the essence of a celestial, tingles through her nerves upon the amiable hand on Lauren’s shoulders. Rosie makes it a point to avoid the maiden’s deep blue gaze, weaponized easily in an unnatural power held over most supernatural beings.. To stare deeply, she could find herself drowning in them. Drowning and falling into an age old cycle, only to be pulled out and reprimanded by the vicious Dark that keeps her light safe. Keeping them still at the entrance, Rosie lightly turns the girl away with a guiding hand on the small of her back, “ I was just about to make my rounds…” “ But I wanted to see you..”  Lauren’s squeaky voice ebbs with lethargy.. Its clear she’s woken from sleep just to come up here. Rosie makes it a point to resist, to gawk elsewhere, and continues to coax her away, “ You see me. Now its time for bed, where good humans and angels should be..” “ Please,” Lauren reached out and tangled her hand within the celestial’s hanging sleeve, her bare feet scuffing upon the cold stone demanding the Moon halt her pushing. And it works, for Rosie is caught off guard, and falls prey to the blue ocean pleadingly staring at her. Lauren, in a move she’d done countless times, wraps herself within the silky blue robes of her guardian and presses close to Rosie’s cool skin. “ Please, I can’t sleep. Can’t I just stay with you? Just for tonight?” Just for the night.. The Sphinx had agreed to that so many times, swearing to be the last time, and there was no doubt that this would repeat again. The Moon’s light shaped figure flickers with Rosie’s hesitation, a visible strain on her face as Dalia fights within the thin layer of light to push the girl away or outright fling her. Fortunately, the Light holds her strength with an exasperated groan,  “ Child, I have rounds to make..  I’ve neglected my duties enough tending to you.”  Rosie cringed at the unintentional harshness of her own words and quickly turned her face away from the sapphire honey trap set by the maiden’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the mossy covered stone walls beyond Lauren’s messy hair. She makes reparations with her reasoning, her hand raising to stroke through the curly locks with her signature tenderness,  “ What I mean to say is.. Even if I did stay, I’ll be gone by morning.. I’ll be leaving too check on the other safe havens, and you know it may be a while..” 

   Though, Lauren doesn’t know it’s intentional that Rosie keeps away. 

There’s no doubt in her mind that if the Sphinx dared to look, she might crumble at the hurt written across the flower maiden’s face with the reality placed before them. Rosie makes a move and tries to carefully break away from Lauren’s hold as sympathetically as she could.. But Lauren’s insistent grip tightening demands her attention. The maiden’s face is determined as she replies sharply,  “ Which is more of a reason why I want to stay with you tonight..”  Rosie’s will is slowly cracking and it shows with her dimming colors. For a fleeting moment she is silent, mauling over her answer while faced off against a deadly, persistent opponent. Lips pressed into a fine line, Rosie let her head fall back and stared up towards the starry sky. “ If I stay with you til you fall asleep.. Will you be satisfied?” Lauren beamed a brilliant smile and nodded with childish youth and a cartoonish bop of curls following her head,  “ Promise I will.”        “ Just for tonight..” Rosie concedes to her defeat. It was only then that Lauren let her go. Turning on her heels, the bareskinned flower maiden was prepared to waltz up to the den, til swiftly her feet no longer touched the ground and she was left floating in air with a black misty mass wrapped around her waist. Lauren's startled, confused, and looks towards the guardian with furrowed brows and pouting lips, “ What are you doing…?” Rosie drifts lazily towards her.. A dreary, melancholic smile worn as black dissipates into her essence, and her arms now wrap around the maiden's soft body to support the weight, “ I told you, you don’t belong in a crow’s den of death. Little Flowers like you belong among the tribes, in groups where you aren’t alone.” The girl puffed her cheeks, lips parting to whine in protest, only to be silenced by Rosie’s quick kiss upon her button nose..

Then , together , they flew.

       To fly with Rosie was different than flying with the winged Angels. It was not a crude attempt to hold on for dear life while you clung to the back, or dangled within the strong arms of the hunting members that took to the sky -- the wind did not whip by and deafen your senses, or blind you as your eyes dried out and watered painfully. The raw physics seemed to lack entirely, for the world was but an aspect to manipulate to the existence of a celestial… held within the arms of the Moon, there is a calming serenity which overtakes Lauren as she huddles close to the Light. To fly with a Moon was akin to flying within a dream.. Weightless, surreal, and fantastical as all laws of the waking world are disregarded for the pure joy of flight. Above here, Lauren could see the entirety of their domain, of the kingdom she had grown within and loved with every fiber of her being… surrounded by creatures that looked nothing like her, and feared anyone who did. A bird's eye view, a perspective which Lauren would never have seen on her own were it not for the spirits and beings who took her to places no human would ever get a chance to see. In that moment, the flower maiden shifted her gaze and caught a glimpse of her guardian in her most natural state: Fierce, focused.. Tinged by an eternal blue gloom that clung to the light, no matter how brightly she shined as the Beacon of Hope. Rosie may not have looked at her, but a pang struck within Lauren’s beating chest at the sight… when normally she would chat, point towards the earth below them and coo a joke to spur a laugh out of her Sphinx, she is stricken to silence by a twisting feeling. The flower merely smiles in the soft blue light.. Loosening her breaths soundlessly, she closed her eyes and nestled closer. The flight she hoped would have lasted forever far sooner than she hoped. 

    Seamlessly, Rosie floats downward, til her feet connected upon the thick surface root of an ancient tree as they stand at the base. A private little cubby, close but out of the way of wandering habitants that make their living in the night. Carefully then, she slides Lauren from her arms and set her upon the grassy earth, in the center of the circular nest of roots. Rosie smiled,  “ There we are. Didn’t shake the sleep out of you too much, did I?”      “ I wasn’t tired..”  Lauren grinned sleepily, definitely, but her puffy eyes and drooping lids could not deceive. Rosie chuckled lightly and shook her head, “ You are an awful liar, my little flower..” “ Lay with me…” Lauren, unbothered by the dirt and thin grass beneath her, settled down into a comfortable sitting position. She held out her arms expectantly, perceptive of her lover’s subtle flash of hesitance when Rosie gave a wary look around them.. Nonetheless, she gives in and dissolves away into a mass of glowing mist, wavering down to the Maiden's side, then remainfesting around her. Lauren’s body was incredibly soft.. Smooth skinned and cushioned by light layers of added weight Rosie couldn’t help but compare to hugging a toy. Though she dared not voice it.. Feigning pain, Rosie hissed playfully, “ This isn’t very comfortable..” Lauren snuggled closer, her sleepy smile widening while her hand reached back to stroke the ethereal cheek of the celestial,  “ You make a fine bed..” “ I can make one better, so you won’t have aches when you wake up..” At once, the ground crackles with the wet shifting of fresh soil. A sound familiar to the residence under the Moon’s dominion, as lush foliage and flower blooms break through the surface and blossom beneath their bodies as padded cushioning.. Elevating them so slightly, fresh green vines snake their way over the ancient roots of the elder tree and splash colorful life through the flowers that swirl and open upon the dark , aging roots. What was once a worn place of thin grass and moist dirt had now become a lush pit of green life, a perfect nest for a nymph to rest in the safety of the forest and its seedlings. Rosie pressed a gentle kiss to Lauren’s temple, “ Better..? ”  “ You didn’t have to..”  Lauren willed open her eyes, a tenderness within them, as Rosie looked beyond her. Huddled safely in the warmth of the goddess, Lauren relaxed, but did not close her eyes… not yet. “ Now little one, A promise is a promise..” Rosie’s hands skim and trace up the maiden’s arms.. then  rest, politely folded at the center of Lauren's chest, just above her beating heart, “ Sleep..”

But how could she? Lauren laid awake in silence, breathing in and out in the arms of the sacred guardian… waiting for something. Anything from the Moon. Some sort of acknowledgement, or sentiment. And the minutes sicked on painfully.. The pang in her chest grows.. Til Finally, Lauren can’t seem to take it anymore.. She cracks the silence with a remorseful, bittersweet question.

“We have ruined each other. Haven’t we?”

Its abrupt, unsuspected, and it stops everything. Of all things to be heard from the maiden... The world is still, but the air grows colder.. Rosie makes no movements from her position, yet it feels like the slightest ice runs down lauren’s shoulder when the sphinx whispers against her, “ It that what you think, little one?

     That we’ve ruined each other?..” 

Distorted , wavering unnaturally in an agglomeration of voices, Lauren squirmed to turn and face Rosie, only to be caught by the neck and held in place.  “ Please,” The voice strains,       “ Stay still..” Normally warm fingers suddenly felt so cold.. Trembling, they apply the slightest pressure, then release again. They held her firmly, dangerously. Lauren, however, calmly stared at the star above. A small, forlorn smile worn on her lips. “ It's alright...I understand, Rose..”  Her small hands raise and caress the celestial blue that holds her as they darken to near shades of black. Rosie twitched.. Then cowered within the shoulder of her flower maiden, releasing the neck now as both her own palms cradle Lauren’s head,

“ Now, Listen to me..”   She can’t bring herself to meet Lauren’s face, turned away in shame, she speaks lowly in her lament,  “ Understand that you’ve done nothing wrong.. You haven’t ruined me, because I’ve been ruined since the day of my creation..”  

Her pained glare only bleeds through the earth as her figure trembles and loses its opacity, “ Its I who’ve ruined you, my flower.... I made you love something you should have never loved, and it seems I’ve ruined your heart... that just won’t run to when it should be held and nurtured..”

It eats her alive. That very notion she knows is reality, that the unlovable Moon has stolen the heart of a mortal who would now only know tragedy..  It kills her, because she is the ruiner of good things.. The herald of death kills everything it touches, even if she loves it.. There are no exceptions.

The tears well and spill from her glowing eye as she chokes out, “ And this is why.. You have to forget me.”

And Sleep

“ N-NO..!” There was no stopping it. 

The feeling bleeds into the heart first, cold and heavy, pumps with every beating pulse. The transfer of energy can’t be resisted as Lauren’s veins light up with the Moon’s essence, a tingling warmth that begins to fog and dull her senses and shroud the world in creeping blackness. The call from the void that wills heaviness and the need for sleep, the flower maiden’s will battles fruitlessly to fend off the force taking over her subconscious to sink heavily into a blanket of dreams… Lauren gasped as her vision fades, as the last bit of reality she can make out is the mournful, weeping face of the mighty Moon guardian cradling her body, she wheezed with her last ounce of strength, “ Y-You’ve cheated...! You.. s-stay..!...” As light dies away and Lauren sinks deeper into the endless sea of her mind, peace soothes the straining and overcomes at last when the maiden is laid peacefully within the sanctity of the forest’s vines and leafy growth to protect her bareness from the world. Sleeping, while memories alter and dissipate like the falling leaves in the changing seasons. For a while, Rosie simply stood there and studied her while she slept.. Frozen, grieving for what was, even if she knows it was for the best. When at last she turned away, Dalia whispered her approval in the back of her mind.. 

“ You’ve saved her.”

In the shadow of the night, the Moon vanished in the shape of a bird after making her rounds and securing the borders for a long absence.

When the flower maiden should rise with the morning sun, with her absence goes the memories of the Guardian who loved a mortal woman, and a young woman who loved the unreachable. Til she makes her return, Lauren will have a chance to fill the space where a bleeding heart with an unknown wound would be..

[ducktracy]

93. pop goes your heart (1934)

release date: december 8th, 1934

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: n/a

if your heart ACTUALLY goes pop, you may need to consult a doctor or a good surgeon. another bug-centric cartoon. all animals and insects unite in harmony as we monitor their day to day lives—including how beavers deal with a hungry bear.

a cold winter’s day (well, night now) as i type this, a cold winter’s day on the screen. a bird sings its call, the scene fading out and back in to a lovely spring setting, flowers blooming and grass green. all of the animals and insects are soaking up the spring sun, humming birds and bees collecting nectar/pollen while humming/buzzing, a bird laying an egg and shaking hands with its significant other as a tally is crossed off, keeping track. the sequences with the humming birds, robins, and bees stretch on for quite awhile and lose a bit of their charm, but the backgrounds and scenery are very pleasing to admire.

elsewhere, we have a grasshopper teaching its children how to spit tobacco. priorities! now these are the true morals our children need to be seeing, not that hinky dinky stuff about love and acceptance and being a decent human being. we need TOBACCO! nah, it’s an amusing scene, but a gross one at that. the father spits just fine and urges his kids to give it a go, one of them spitting it up all over its face. mmmm, delightful. i swear i’ve seen this before, somewhere. i have no idea where or how. i don’t know where i’d come across THIS cartoon, it’s certainly fallen under the radar, but i know for certain i’ve seen this scene... anyway.

more parental lessons, this time with turtles. a mother turtle teaches its children how to swim, the turtles lazing on their shells as they leisurely row along with their cattails. elsewhere, a very beautiful painting of an apple tree. pan in on two spiders strumming “pop goes your heart” on a spiderweb—very fun, jaunty, and cute. i’m already hooked to the tune, and there haven’t been any vocals! a handful of worms are also enticed, two groups of worms dancing around with apples as their bodies and a different worm for the limbs: head, arms, legs. nothing too exciting, but the music is a joy to listen to and the animation is fun and beautiful.

a group of frogs are our destined singers, singing “pop goes your heart”. once again, very catchy and fun. a nice shot of their reflection in the water as they sing to mix things up, undoubtedly to flex on their newfound technicolor usage, as if saying “hey, WE have color now, too! looky what WE can do! huh? huuuuh? top that, disney!” as the frogs sing, we’ve a gag borrowed from the infamous one step ahead of my shadow, a swan feasting on a few fish before a giant fish eats the swan and licks its lips contentedly. nutritious! the song ends as the frogs dive into the water, breaking their reflections.

focus shifts to a nest of hungry baby birds. a curious bird spots a worm writhing in an apple, fresh for the picking. the bird jams its head inside the apple, the worm snaking out another hole and using the opportunity to spank the bird senseless. these are the things they don’t tell you about the food chain. clutching its wounded butt, the bird hops around and chirps in pain while the worm laughs in ridicule.

beavers occupy the next scene, specifically two playing ping pong... or tennis... or badminton. the ball looks like a ping pong ball to me, so who knows. they play back and forth with their spacious tails. as always, some sort of conflict must arise. a bear sniffs the ground, searching for some food. a relatively amusing gag as the beat attempts to roar, making a squeaky garble instead. embarrassed, the bear sprays some throat spray and provides an adequate roar, smiling contentedly at the audience.

the hungry bear stalks a hapless turtle, hurriedly picking up the pace. eventually, the turtle retreats to its shell, its head popping out where its tail was and giving the bear a good bite on the nose. the bear retreats as the turtle smugly continues its stroll.

full of fresh rage, the bear vents its frustrations by coming across the beaver community and disrupting all peace. a nice, flouncy, hurries rendition of “pop goes your heart” as the bear chases after the beavers, who seek refuge in a tree. the bear sticks its head inside the tree while one of the beavers pops out and smacks the bear’s exposed rear with its tail. lots of spanking going on in this one! meanwhile, another beaver gnaws at a tree ranch supporting a beehive. the branch falls and the beehive breaks against the bear, plaguing the bear with a swarm of angry bees and some honey on its fur.

predator quickly transforms into prey as the bear tries to outrun the bees with little success, animation nice and volumetric as the bear twirls around aimlessly and swipes at the bees. typical cartoon fashion as the bear launches itself into a grassy field, the honey causing the grass to stick to the bear. the bear rolls downhill, a mass of grass engulfing it completely.

just in time for a farmer to be making hay. the mound of bear-grass lands next to the farmer, who shovels it into the hay bailing machine. predictably (yet still funny), the bear is turned into a hay bale. iris out as the bear darts away, much to the bewilderment of the farmer.

not the most enthralling merrie melody, but, as always, not the worst. the colors were very pleasing and intriguing, and the music was certainly the highlight of the short. i especially loved the harp sequence between the two spiders! not much going on with the plot. the cartoon was enjoyable, but none too engaging. i found myself zoning out at the climax, so i suppose that’s an indicator of something. nevertheless, the backgrounds were beautiful, as was the music. might be best to skip, there isn’t much to remark on, but it isn’t a total waste of time, either.

link!

[lettersofsky]

A Meeting at the End of the World

Written for the Fic Exchange over on AO3  for user frogslay.  A threat in the Northern Continent draws the attention of the world's saviour, while investigating they meet someone eager to be of assistance.

“And why should we help you? This s the third time you’ve managed to screw things up.” Cloud fixed Rufus with a bland look, staring down at the older blond seated behind the desk. He had, of course, been expecting something like this when Shinra called him and asked to meet, but being proven right never failed to brighten his move.

“The second time wasn’t my fault,” Rufus reminded him, the slight furrowing of his brow the only indication that the older man wasn’t as unaffected as he made himself out to be. “Nor is this one. You can’t blame me for the results of my Father’s actions.”

“You’ll fine I’m very good with blaming the wrong people for things,” Cloud stated, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting on his feet. “Just ask Tifa, she’ll tell you all about it.”

There was a minute twitch of a fine brow before the business man took a deep breath, releasing it with a soft, almost inaudible sound. “Regardless,” Rufus said, emphasising the word. “That isn’t what’s important here. Are you going to help or not?” The question would have sounded short from anyone else but from Shinra, the words were almost desperate.

Cloud wasn’t cruel enough to turn the man down, despite how much he thought the other deserved it.

“Of course I am,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes at the stunned look he got from the business man at his nonchalant words. “Just because I hate you, doesn’t mean the Turks deserve to suffer for it. They’re ok sometimes.”

Rufus stared at him silently, peering at him with cold eyes. He took a deep breath before releasing it harshly, speaking in a blank voice. “Do you need me to send you the coordinates?”

“Nope, Reno sent them before you called. Cid’s probably already waiting for me so we can leave.”

There was another twitch, this one a bit more noticeable than the last. “I better not keep you then,” Rufus forced out through gritted teeth. “I hope to hear good things from my Turks when they return.”

“The fact that they’ll have returned will be good enough.” Cloud called over his shoulder as he turned and strode out of the office. Pulling his PHS from his pocket showed him that he had several messages from his friends, they were ready and waiting for him on the Shera a few miles away.

He put his PHS away and continued to stride out of the building, making his way to Fenrir with steady, confident footsteps. He started the engine and immediately turned in the direction of the airship.

When he reached the airship, he discovered that neither Barret or Yuffie could make it to help them, Barret was dealing with issues in Corel and Yuffie was swamped with things in Wutai. Cloud didn’t hold it against them, they were both quite busy with their lives and couldn’t keep dropping everything to deal with Shinra’s messes.

Reeve was updating Cait Sith so the one he sent with them was only for communication and wouldn’t be joining them in any battles. The small robotic cat sounded far too downtrodden when he informed them of that.

Cloud strapped Fenrir down in the Shera’s cargo hold and put himself against a wall in preparation of the journey, he really hated having to travel by anything that wasn’t his own two feet.

“If you fuckin’ vomit in my ship, then you’re gonna be the one to fuckin’ clean it!” Cid shot at him as he started the Shera’s engine, the airship rising rapidly into the air.

It was time to save the world once again.

Apparently, the Northern Continent was one of the best places to try to end the world, the other was Midgar but that was more than obvious. The coordinates Reno had sent led them to an empty, mountain range and a smouldering wreckage of a helicopter.

It seemed that being unable to land a helicopter safely was something common amongst all the Turks. Cloud remembered that Tseng had somehow managed to crash one on a beautiful day, with absolutely nothing wrong with the copter and while nobody was attacking them; it was kind of amazing, now that Cloud could think back on it.

Cid set them down a few miles away from the crash and they quickly made their way to the helicopter. The smouldering metal was a stark contrast to the snowy mountain around them, it wasn’t on fire so Cloud counted that as a win; it meant that they didn’t have to worry about the helicopter exploding on them.

They started searching for Reno and Rude then; Nanaki trying to find a trace of their scent as the rest of them searched for more visible evidence of their presence. They soon found the two hidden away in a cave and were almost shot for their trouble; the two had had a tough time of things it the number of injuries they had was anything to go by.

“He was some fucked up dude, yo,” Reno told them after he recognized who they were, the man was a little woozy but still coherent. “That fucking throne dude from year, ya’ know?” Rude nodded silently from where Tifa was casting a Cure Materia on him, sunglasses broken but still on his face.

Cloud turned to where Vincent was lurking in the shadows, peering at the mass of darkness that was the gunman. “I thought you said he died,” he questioned, tone more curious than accusing. “You’re usually so good about things like that.”

The shadows shrugged but made no other move to answer. Cloud rolled his eyes at the gunslinger and turned back to the Turks, looking them over critically. “We should get you back to the ship,” he suggested, staring at the way Rude almost fell over himself where he was sitting. “You both look like you’re about to keel over.”

“Yeah, we’ll let you guys deal with the fucker, yo.” Reno agreed, waving a hand drunkenly in Cloud’s direction. “Just point us where and we’ll let you guys get to the thing.” Rude nodded once again, muttering a soft “yeah” to Reno’s words.

“You might die if you go alone,” Cloud informed them bluntly, looking over his shoulder at Vincent as he continued. “Vincent will get you back safely, won’t you Vincent?”

There was a moment of nothing, Cloud imagined that Vincent was giving him a dirty look from where he was hidden in the shadows, before the gunslinger nodded. “I shall meet up with you as soon as I am able.”

Cloud nodded at Vincent’s answer, turning back to his other companions. “We’ll start by going back to where Nanaki picked up that scent a few miles back, Vincent will be able to follow us from there.”

His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear the words Vincent muttered under his breath, “I could track you in my slumber, in the dead of the darkest winter night.” He was sure the man was aware that he could hear him, so he ignored the other.

He got confirmation from the others and they informed Reeve of what their next course of action would be.

They left the Turks in Vincent’s care and set off for where Nanaki had picked up the scent of mako and blood.

“You sure they’ll be alright?” Tifa asked, casting a worried glance back at the cave they had just left. “What if he comes back for them?”

“Vin can hold off any fuckers that come at him!” Cid assured her, a wide smile on his face. “He’s a tough bastard! Nothing’s managed to kill him yet!”

Tifa nodded, looking reassured by his words. “Yeah,” she breathed, turning away from the cave to where Nanaki was already on the trail. “They’ll be fine.”

The Turks were, in fact, more than fine with Vincent.

And why was Cloud so sure of that? Because Weiss, the throne dude, made it obvious where he was.

A giant, glowing mako pool surrounded by large, terrifying monsters was not the most inconspicuous thing in the world. Then again, the world-ending threats never were inconspicuous; Sephiroth and Meteor couldn’t be ignored and Deep Ground made sure everyone paid attention to them.

Weiss immediately sent his beasts after them, content to sit back and watch them fall to his little (GIANT MAN-EATING) pets.

They might have been able to handle them if both hadn’t come at them at the same time. Two beasts, both larger than most houses were, bearing down on them at once, was not something they could handle easily.

Cloud almost screamed in frustration when a Limit Break did nothing against them, he did scream when one of them completely healed the other after they had almost whittled it down to nothing. Even Vincent joining them did nothing to turn the tides in their favour.

Then one of the beasts erupted into flames, writhing in agony as deafening screams of pain filled the air around them before it collapsed to the ground and went shockingly still. They stared at the corpse for a moment, shocked by the sudden turn of events.

Then a large blur of red slammed into the ground in front of them.

He stared at the man as he stood to his full height, he was tall and his red-hair fell to his lower back. He turned to them, fixing them with inquisitive mako-blue eyes before turning away with a scoff. “You’re lucky I decided to help, instead of letting these things tear you apart.”

There was a moment of silence, then;

“Aw, fuck you, you bastard! Come over here and say that to my face you fucker!”

Cloud sighed softly as Cid continued to swear at the newcomer, earning a cold look from the stranger. He decided not to bother with them for the moment and turned his attention back to the other beast; Tifa and Nanaki were divvying its attention between them while Vincent focussed on taking shots at the thing when he had the opportunity, he went over to assist them.

Taking the stranger’s example Cloud started using his Materia against the beast. While it’s twin had a weakness to fire, this other was taken down by a powerful lightning spell. Tifa and Nanaki were tired from their efforts, chests heaving with their breaths as the beast fell to the ground.

“Who’s that?” Tifa asked, gesturing towards where Cid was still shouting at the stranger. “Someone you know?”

Cloud turned to glance at the man, seeing that Cid was now shouting in the other’s face. The man looked less than impressed by what the pilot was saying. The stranger turned away from Cid suddenly, approaching them with a confident stride. “I don’t know him,” Cloud answered his friend. “But I’m not going to turn away any help we can get.”

“I agree with Cloud,” Nanaki said, watching the man approach them from the corner of his eye. “I doubt we’ll be of much help against the upcoming enemy.”

Tifa looked troubled for a moment but agreed with Nanaki. “You’re probably right about that,” she rolled her shoulder, wincing and reaching up to grasp her upper arm with her hand. “I think I’m out anyway.”

Cloud fixed her with a concerned look, “will you be ok?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course I will be, I just pulled something.”

He nodded at her response but the stranger reached them before he could say anything else.

“What are we going to do about our friend up there?” The stranger asked, coming to a halt next to Cloud. He peered at them all with a judgemental look but didn’t say anything else.

“You, Vincent and I will be going after him while the rest wait here for our return. If things look like they’re going south, then they’ll come give us backup.” He turned to where Cait Sith was silently listening to them, “you got all that?”

“Ay lad, Reeve said yar in the clear! We’re ready to mark ya grave if ya don return.” The cat’s response drew a stunned look from the stranger and a surprised noise form his throat.

“Good, hopefully it won’t come to that.” He turned away from his friends then and stared at the man still seated above the mako-pool, it didn’t look like he had even recognized that his beasts had been killed. “Take shots where you can Vincent, just try not to hit us alright?”

Vincent scoffed silently but didn’t say anything and moved off to find somewhere to perch.

“Right,” Cloud breathed, nodding to himself. “Ok, let’s mosey.”

“What?” The stranger questioned, staring at him like he was insane. “What about a strategy of some kind?”

“I’m going to smack him with my sword and Vincent’s going to shoot him,” Cloud answered, continuing to move as he spoke. “Try not to die.”

A harsh sound came from behind him but Cloud focused on getting himself to Weiss.

Time to finish this.

Weiss wasn’t as difficult to take down as Sephiroth had been, even Kadaj-Sephiroth had been harder to take down. Maybe they’d been giving Vincent too much credit after the whole Deep Ground thing, especially if Weiss had been the strongest among them.

Weiss had gone down after two stabs; one through the stomach from Cloud and the other through the chest from the other man. Vincent hadn’t even gotten a shot in, it had been over so quickly.

“Is it always so easy?” The stranger asked, turning to stare at him over the corpse slumped over in the throne. Cloud shrugged in response, eyes trained on the other man’s sword; it was an impressive piece, a small SOLDIER sword retro-fitted with an ornate grip and etched with glyphs that pulsed with magic. It was also red, Cloud couldn’t tell if that was by design or something that had later been added to the blade.

“Usually there’s more destruction,” he admitted in a distracted tone, tearing his eyes from the crimson blade. “Midgar gets a bit more wrecked each time. Usually someone dies.”

The taller man blinked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not. “Ok,” he breathed, turning away from the corpse to where Vincent was perched a few miles away. “I expected it’d be harder to save the world.”

“Vincent might shoot at you if you ask him,” Cloud offered, hoisting First Tsurugi onto his back. “Or if you tell him how awful he is if he lost against that guy.” He stepped down to the strip of raised ground connecting the platform the throne was on to the shore of the lake.

The other followed him quickly, keeping up with him by virtue of his longer legs. “Where are you going after this?” He asked from behind him, pressing forward to breath into Cloud’s ear. “I’d love to hear about those other times.”

Cloud glanced over his shoulder, seeing glowing blue eyes staring at him intently. “It’s not that interesting,” he tried to tell the man.

“It’s got to be more interesting than this,” the other insisted, gesturing to the silent mountains around them. “It’ll certainly make the trip a bit more bearable.”

“The Turks will love that,” Cloud said in a bland tone. “Getting to listen to how useless they’ve been.”

“Turks?” The stranger questioned, freezing in his stride. “There are Turks with you?”

Cloud paused, turning to look at the man. “Yeah, they crashed their copter so we’re taking them back.” He was quiet, staring at him without really seeing him. “You gonna be ok with that? I mean, a lot of people are uncomfortable around the Turks.”

“Hmm,” The taller man hummed, blinking lazily before snapping back to attention. “Oh, yes. No, I believe we’ll have to save those stories for a different day.” He stepped back then, a large black wing materializing behind him. “Until next time.”

He was gone before Cloud could do little more than take a shocked breath, leaping into the empty sky and disappearing before his eyes. Cloud blinked at the dark spec in the sky for a moment then turned to look at the presence that just appeared at his shoulder. “That just happened, right? He’s got a wing too?”

“Yes, it was quite impressive.”

“Right,” Cloud nodded at the man’s words, sighing and turning to where their friends were waiting. “Let’s go tell everyone the good news.”

He realized while walking back to the airship that the stranger had never introduced themselves.

Only he and Vincent could make it the next ‘potentially world-ending crisis’; the others were too busy with their own lives to come help them. Cloud didn’t blame them; if he had a choice, he would have stayed home and slept in too.

When they reached the battlefield this time it was to see the swordsman from last time get thrown across the ruins of Midgar by an enormous creature with several arms. Its lower body seemed to be melded with wires and its body was dripping with mako, it was odd to see something like this; a kind of meld between something organic mixed so closely with something non-organic.

Cloud raced to where the man had impacted the ground, dropping into the small crater around the man’s body without a moment’s hesitation. He was relieved to see that the man was conscious, groaning as he pulled himself to sit upright. He turned to Cloud with hazy eyes, blinking at him a few times before speaking. “I believe I was robbed during our last meeting,” he told him seriously, raising a hand to grasp Cloud’s shoulder “Also, you’re far too pretty.”

Cloud ignored the man’s words, focusing on casting a Cure on the other man. He watched as some of the larger wounds on the man’s arms closed before stopping his spell, looking over the man for a moment. “You’re not gonna die yet,” he informed the other, watching the way blue eyes focused on him. “Think you can keep going?”

The man nodded after considering him for a few minutes, lifting himself to his feet. “Of course I can. Can’t let you have all the glory again.”

“If its glory you want then you can have all of it,” Cloud informed the man, lifting himself from the crater. “I’m just here to kill things and get myself a pay check.”

That startled a laugh out of the stranger and they set off to engage with the giant creature, keeping a close look of the other’s back as they fought the monster.

They eventually found the creature’s weakness; the underside of its head was particularly susceptible to stabbing so while Vincent and the other swordsman distracted it, Cloud forced two of his smaller blades into the soft skin, ripping its misshapen head from the rest of its leaking body.

The other swordsman was nice enough to catch him before he fell into the gapping, open wound of the man’s neck. He picked him out of the sky between one beat and the next, carrying him with the help of enhanced strength and his large wing.

Cloud could admit to himself that it was kind of nice. The man had a tight grip on him so he didn’t have to worry about being dropped and he smelled like apples and something he couldn’t identify, it was a very nice experience.

The man set him down safely on the ground, far away from where the corpse was dispersing into the Lifestream, the oozing flesh fading away and leaving the mechanical parts behind.

“I wasn’t aware your sword could do that,” the winged man said, the feathered limb dematerializing into nothing as he fixed his gaze on the blades in Cloud’s hands. He lifted his eyes from the swords to meet Cloud’s. “Any other special tricks?”

“None I’d ever show someone without knowing their name,” Cloud informed the man, turning to look for where Vincent had placed himself. He hadn’t meant to say that. His attempted to diffuse the coming awkwardness with his next words. “My friends want to have some standards.”

A soft noise of consideration came from behind him. “I suppose that’s reasonable,” the other man moved into his personal space, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. “Is a name all I need to see these special tricks?” The question was almost purred into his ear, warm breath fanning across his flesh and freezing Cloud in place.

He hadn’t expected the other man to response like that, it was unexpected to say the least.

Cloud swallowed heavily, abandoning the search for his friend. Vincent would have made himself apparent if he was here, meaning the gunslinger had left him to deal with this situation on his own. He wouldn’t put it pass the man to do that. “Um,” he responded eloquently, frozen for a moment as he tried to figure out how to react to this new situation. “It’s a start.” The words were muttered a few moments later as he forced down the heat that was threatening to rise to his cheeks.

He was usually much better around pretty people, he shouldn’t be getting this flustered by some random winged stranger that flung magic like he had been born doing it and had a sword as pretty as he was.

… Cloud might be a little bit screwed.

“Well then,” the other purred, pressing flush against his back and placing lips against his ear. “Genesis Rhapsodos, I can’t wait to see those tricks of yours.”

A shiver ran down his spine before Cloud could stop it, the way the other’s mouth grew into a smile told him that the swordsman, Genesis, had felt it as well. “Cloud,” he muttered quietly, shifting a bit to brush his mouth against the other man’s. “I’m… I’m Cloud.”

“Well, Cloud,” the way Genesis purred his name sent another shiver down his spine, not helped by the way their lips brushed with each word. “Shall we go to your place, or mine?”

There was a bright smile on the man’s face and he was staring at him with warm eyes.

Cloud was definitely screwed.

He was awoken a few hours later by the shrill tone of his PHS.

He groaned, reaching out from beneath the thin blanket to grasp the device. He lifted himself a bit, dislodging the warm arm that had been wrapped securely around his waist as he did so, and answered the call. He lifted the PHS to his ear and spoke, “hello?” His voice was gruff from previous activities and heavy from sleep.

“Cloud?” That was Reeve. Why was Reeve called him? “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you calling?”

The warm body next to him stirred, tightening the grip of the arm around his waist. Genesis lifted himself from the bed and pressed his nose into the hollow of Cloud’s throat with a disgruntled noise. “Whoever that is better be important,” he muttered into the flesh of his shoulder. “Or I will set them on fire.”

“Is there someone with you Cloud?”

“Yeah, he said if this isn’t important he’s going to set you on fire.” He answered, glancing down at the man nuzzling into his shoulder. “He’s probably serious about that.”

“… Ok. I take it things went well, then?” Reeve asked, bemusement clear over the PHS. “With the creature that is.”

“Things went fine,” he responded, ignoring the distracting way Genesis was dragging his fingers over the skin of his lower abdomen. “It had re-joined the Lifestream by the time we left. Didn’t Vincent tell you?”

“You know that Vincent can be very… cryptic. He said something about a crimson angel and seduction that made his own look like a ‘masterpiece of a declaration of affection’.”

Cloud furrowed his brow at Reeve’s words, reaching up to run his hand through his messy hair. Genesis took the opportunity to capture the hand with his own, bringing them to rest against Cloud’s chest. Cloud turned his hand to thread their fingers together, feeling the smile that the other man pressed into his shoulder. “Yeah,” he muttered in a distracted voice. “Is that all you wanted Reeve?”

“Yes! Of course, my apologies Cloud. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. I’ll speak to you later.” Reeve hung up then, the sound indicating he had hung up almost cutting off his last word.

Cloud pulled his PHS from his ear, closing the device and setting it back down away from the bed. Genesis pulled him back against the mattress, pushing him flat on his back and kneeling over his prone form. “I hope we won’t be having any more interruptions,” Genesis purred, eyes half-lidded as he ran a hand along Cloud’s side. “You haven’t shown me all your tricks yet.” His last words were accompanied by a smile, a warm, lazy curl of the other’s mouth that stirred a warm feeling in Cloud’s chest.

Cloud leaned forward to take Genesis’ mouth with his own, reaching up to sink his free hand into long hair. He wrapped his leg over the other’s hip, rolling up into Genesis’ space with an exaggerated movement. He used the moment of distraction to flip their positions, forcing Genesis back against the mattress before pulling from the other’s mouth.

He stared at the other with lidded eyes for a moment, staring down at him from his kneeling position. He shivered at the feeling of the man’s hand coming to rest on his side, pressing into the warm weight.

“I’ve got a few more things up my sleeve,” he breathed, using his grip on Genesis’ hair to urge the man up to meet his mouth. “Can’t promise that there won’t be any more interruptions, though. They might need us to save the world again.”

“Well then, we’re simply going to have to make the most out of our time. Aren’t we?”

[galaxyofdragons]

Over the waters of the Bay, the battle raged.

Dragons of every Flight swarmed in the skies. Hundreds, if not thousands, of clans had members in the fight, whether they were lone travelers caught in the sudden chaos, or entire squadrons of trained warriors. Bolts of lightning crackled through the air, and below the waves rose up with such force that the very tides retreated from the shore, revealing all manner of fish, shells, flotsam and long-lost treasures. Seaweed and shadows alike rose up, twisted, and writhed, attempting to gain a grip around some part of the behemoth and drag it back beneath the sea, and even the light of the midday sun was honed into burning rays to singe the creature. Around them all, gusts of wind buffeted dragons and monster alike, and sparkling rays of magical energy assaulted the abomination. Yet for every tentacle that was broken, lopped off, or otherwise disabled, two seemed to rise in its place, and the deafening roars of the creature filled the air as it snapped and gnashed its teeth at its attackers, until the senses of every dragon rang with the violent energy of its cries, and they would swear that this sound had always been a near-crippling wall of white noise in their heads.

Merit was one of the dragons wielding magic, waving his staff in complex patterns in the air as he chanted spells in his Fae drone. Every now and then, his voice would falter, and he would flutter down to a large lilypad which floated fitfully in the Bay some distance away, to cast a magical shielding dome over himself to shelter him as he rested.

Virtue and Sigarni used magic, as well, lobbing balls of stunning energy at the creature, though more often than not they had to try to numb a huge tentacle as it came coiling through the air toward them. They soared, seemingly incapable of tiring; Virtue, thanks to her steam-powered wing braces, and Sigarni, bouyed by her own tenacious spirit which, slow to anger, threw itself into battle once riled, and would not give up until the struggle was ended and the enemy vanquished.

Perhaps there was more magic responsible for this stamina of hers.Wind dragons never tire, some dragons jawed to each other, as they sat out the battle to rest or simply watch. They can float forever, on the slightest breeze. Had Sigarni heard this, she would have scoffed. For had she not spent her adolescence fighting the loathsome, Shade-touched Tengu by the score, with nothing but her own swiftness and cunning and might? For her, battle was simple. One must simply fight until there was nothing left -to- fight. Or until she herself had taken her last breath.

Above and below her, Magnus and Arao wheeled through the skies, eschewing magic for brute force. The Guardian roared fit to match the abomination, lashing out with his tail and snapping with his powerful jaws, and the Mirror shrieked curses fit to make a pirate blush as he swiped at rubbery black flesh with his talons. Normally, such language would make Sigarni ruffle her feathers and bow her head, but in this tempest, it was sweet music to her, and every now and then she would echo a particularly choice phrase, as she hurled yet another bolt of magic at the monster.

The monster roared, as it had countless times before, and its myriad tentacles flailed in cartwheeling swipes which had been proven to force dragons to scatter and back off. This time, however, Arao did not back off. Perhaps he was growing impatient with having to whittle away at the beast in slivers and shreds. Instead of retreating, he lunged forward and latched on, and sent his iron-sheathed front claws punching into one pulsing roseate-hued opening on the thing’s limb.

Bright pink ichor gushed from the wound. The monster’s roar took on a high, shrill sound of agony, and a pair of prehensile limbs whipped out at the Mirror. There was a sharp, sickening -crack- as one of them hit him, and Arao was sent out tumbling to the water far below.

That was just the sound of it hitting air. Like a whip. Please let it just be like a whip. The thought moved swiftly in Sigarni’s mind, even as she screamed her mate’s name. She stared down at his floating form in the water, and did not notice the trio of tentacles lashing, now, toward her.

Another roar, this one of a dragon, of a Guardian. Magnus swooped down to intercept the tentacles and beat them back with claws, with his jaws, with the sheer mass of his body between them and Sigarni. As they retreated, he turned to her, snarling still from battle. The hide on his face beneath one horn had been laid open to the bone from the latest buffet; an inch to one side, and he would have been blind in that eye. “Get him to land,” he ordered the Skydancer. “I will keep them off of you. GO.”

It was the first time Sigarni had retreated from a battle. But she did not need to be told twice.

Arao’s forelegs paddled frantically in the water, trying to keep his head above the waves. “Sig,” he moaned, and Sigarni told him to hold still and save his strength. Her tone was sharp with concern and fear.

Somehow, she got him to the shore. There, chaos of a different sort erupted; dragons from their Clan swarmed around them, tripping over themselves to get the two fighters to a safe place. “Get away! What are you doing here? Get out there and -fight-!” she snapped at them, but they wouldn’t listen. They hovered around him, fussing with him, and cut her off from him, and her crest rose, as did her chin, and she spread her wings and gave a sharp HISSSSSS.

“please. friends. let us through.” Merit fluttered to the fore, and Sigarni shouldered her way into the tiny gap that the Fae was able to carve through their clan-mates. Arao lay there on the wiry grass, his forelegs quivering as he struggled to lift himself back to his feet. His tail lashed, but his hind legs would not move. He pushed, heaved...and then uttered words which no one other than Sigarni had ever heard him say, before, and only in dire straits.

“I can’t,” he gasped.

“there. there. just sit tight. friend. lie down. there you go. let us have a look at you. we will put you back to rights. just relax.” Merit alighted on the Mirror’s trembling form, and crawled about to inspect as best as he could without removing the Mirror’s armor right away. As he reached the dragon’s hip, Arao cried out, his tail lashing again.

“You can move your tail. You are not paralyzed,” Sigarni heard herself say. She watched his tailtip wriggle about like a freshly unearthed worm, and finally tore herself away from the sight to look him in the eyes.

“yes. yes. this is good. you will be all right. friend. just lie back. we will take care of you.” Merit clambered up onto Arao’s armored shoulder, patting it soothingly, and began to croon the words of healing magics.

“Alright, move aside, everyone.” Virtue’s voice was ragged around the edges, but it still carried, still had the authority of a Progenitrix. She moved to the front, took in the sight, and sighed heavily.

“You should build a litter for him,” she said, as she looked to Sigarni. “It will be more comfortable for him and--”

“Do I look like a mere millwright to you?” Sigarni blurted. “Is that all I am, someone to hew logs for you and build whatever you like, when you like it? Get these do-nothings to do it! Any imbecile can saw a plank from a log and tie it to something. My mate is lying there right now because he was fighting for you. And now -I’m- going to go -help-. Where it’s -important-”

The sight of Virtue’s jaw hanging slackly open in wounded dismay burned in Sigarni’s memory, as she winged her way back toward the battle in the Bay.

Disclaimer: Merit, Sigarni, and Magnus are not my creations. They are based on characters created elsewhere, and all credit goes to their respective creators. I hope that they will regard their appearances here as fan-fiction and tribute to their characters, nothing more.