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traveller-of-the-knight · 6 months

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Only a Paper Moon

Prologue AKA The Boy who Saved them

General Moon Knight Fanfic

Ft. Daredevil and Jessica Jones

Tags warnings: Childhood trauma (did you see the picture? You saw the picture, you know it's trauma time!), angst with happy ending, skipable gore (you'll see the trigger warning but don't worry nobody got hurt you'll- you'll see)

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapter Summary: A glimpse of the system's childhood, haunted by a God and a family.

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 will be dropped soon!

Blood-stained candies fell on the ground.

Marc faced the sky, only to see a broken moon, leaking down on earth, all around him.

Its insides were hollow, the crates painted with markers and cheap acrylics making the emptiness of space feel plastic. Fragile like the moon, cracked and exposed for everyone to see the thin cardboard that held everything together, now socked with its intestines.

He closed his eyes, he didn’t want to look at the moon anymore, it was shattered, no one would play with it now. It had no purpose, beyond being destroyed for other’s entertainment. They were now playing over its mutilated guts, accompanied by the sound of plastic wraps scratching the rough surface of the carpet. It felt sticky as dozens of tiny candy bars had been stepped on by children fighting to get the most trophies -trophies that Marc had earned.

But he didn’t care,

he wasn’t there.

He was pushed to the side and attacked by what felt like tiny rocks, meteors falling from the vast depths of space to punish him.

He loved space regardless.

I wonder what it’s like… Being on the moon, looking down on earth, where the city lights of Chicago mix with the faraway stars. Funny, isn’t it? That I feel like I belong more with the stars than with humans… Looking down at myself from the moon, I feel so small. All this pain, my memories, my mistakes, all my worries are unimportant here. Here I am so small that I barely exist -if I exist at all.

And so, he disappeared, floating around, outside of his home, outside of all the judgement, outside of his own body.

He was free.

For now, he was truly free.

He pulled himself closer to the moon, close enough to hear it cry. Something cold was slowly dripping on his forehead from above. It made his bones shiver, as it run down, around his eyes and chicks, so cold he could barely feel them as his own.

He gently placed a hand on his temple, letting his shaking fingertips examine what was poured on him. A silent sob escaped him, making him realize he had been crying all along but still couldn’t make a sound. He then brought his hand in front of his eyes -to make sure his fingers were still attached as the cold had paralyzed them.

TW: Gore

Thank G-d. They were still here, but he could barely make out their silhouettes. One thing was certain, they were painted red. Red that started to blend with his vision, replacing his tears with the moon’s as they kept dropping, nesting for a new home in his eyes. The moon is bleeding down on him stronger than before, he can hear the blood twisting and spilling on him, but he still couldn’t move. He was so lucky to be chosen, to witness such a beautiful spectacle. Blood mixed with cosmic dust of faraway galaxies, now long gone, destroyed by the cruelty of space but still visible from his unimportant planet.

He examined the cosmos above him, he shouldn't, but he did. Inside the moon was a dead bird. Some of its feathers still attached on its rotten flesh so thin now, you could see its skeleton, with hollow eyes and crummy with scabs. It was wounded, an arrow next to its heart, Marc felt it too as the darkness of his glare pierced his very soul.

He couldn’t look away, he wanted but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Even when he saw it being consumed by bugs, taking slow bites, feasting on his flesh. It was all so loud. So fucking loud. He heard it all from inside his skull, flies in his ears, worms blocking his airway, choking him, tickling his nostrils as he tried to puke them away from his mouth, only for them to be reborn inside his lungs, crawling to be free.

End of TW

"Marc?"

Mom's voice.

Her face appeared for just a split of a second as shadows of little children blocked his vision again.

"Marc?!"

"Marc!"

Another voice appeared.

Roro?

"Marc, look how many candies I got!

Oh. You didn't get any...

That's ok, we can share, you can take the Mars bar, it's your birthday after all!"

Roro?

Roro placed chocolates and soft candies on Marc's palm. Even though it was still stained with blood. But he didn’t care and closed his brother's fist with his hands and held it with his tiny fingers. Marc looked down at how big his hands were in comparison to his brother’s, reminding him he had grown older without him, he experienced more of the world as his brother stayed the same, trapped inside a memory, a fate he couldn’t escape.

"It's ok… It wasn't your fault."

Roro what are you taking about?

...

Oh-

I'm dreaming again.

I’m dreaming.

He’s not real he’s-

"Marc! Marc don't go!"

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! ImsorryImsorryImsorry!

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Marc was standing there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his classmates, who were laughing and chasing each other for their candies, circling him in the middle, right under the paper moon piñata. He didn't even fully remove the blindfold from his head and kept holding his baseball bat loosely only for it to be dropped when something grabbed his ear and pulled him to the side.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

Roro?

"I didn't spend all that money on you to be ungrateful!"

Roro?

"You looked ridiculous! That's why nobody wants to be your friend."

No. No, this isn’t real. This isn’t real. Mom… Mom could never-

Mum?

What is mum doing?

Did I- do something wrong?

No, no Mom… She-

Mum?

Why is she angry?

Steven no, you didn’t do anything wr-

“Mu…m?” a shaky whisper escaped his mouth, loud enough only they could hear.

“Speak when you are spoken to!”

No! You can’t hurt him! You can’t- I won’t let you! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!

His cheek was studently throbbing with heat.

Mum? Mum, I think someone-

Shhh… Shhh… It’s ok, you’re ok, we’re ok. We’ll survive, that’s what we do.

Steven?

Shhh…

Let me save us.

Marc gave in. Mom’s yelling was nothing but a distant noise and eventually nothing at all. He was floating again, but this time he was safe, he was protected from the bleeding bird in the sky, he was still free.

…

But what happened to the boy who saved him?

What remained of him is now giving a fight. A fight for survival. Not his survival, but a survival non the less.

“Jake Lockley. What do you think you are doing?”

Blood-stained bullets fell on the ground.

Divider by: @cafekitsune

Jake faced the sky, only to see the moon, reflecting on a broken man, leaking his own blood on the concrete. He closed his eyes and tried to think of happy places. A diner, his cab late at night, a lawyer’s office in a cheap apartment building, his friends safe at the bar and him drinking whisky with a girl with terrifying high alcohol tolerance. He would do anything to keep these images real. Well… almost anything but that’s a story for another time.

Comment to be tagged in the next parts!

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pbelfz · 2 years

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Two to One | 12 |

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader x Midoriya Chapter Title: It’s by the Dime a Dozen Chapter 11 | Chapter 13 Story Masterlist Summary: You are a simple college girl working at a cheap, back alley café! The top heroes, Deku and Ground Zero, visit your work in hopes of ordering coffee, but they pick something else up instead. You begin an interesting relationship with the pair, while slowly becoming aware of certain underhanded tactics they are using. Idolization isn't always that bad... Right?

WARNINGS: NSFW, MANIPULATION

(Y/n) held her breath as she rang the doorbell to Izuku and Katsuki’s house.

Her feet shifted on their porch, and she adjusted her backpack, her eyes flickering across the silent, gated neighborhood. The suburbs always made her feel like someone was watching her through their window. She was only gone for an hour and, already, she missed the cracked sidewalks of downtown campus, the honking taxis, and how she had to shove past shoulders on the way to the metro. The wasteful amount of space everyone’s neatly cut lawn seemed to occupy made (Y/n) feel even more insecure about her marginalization.

She didn’t even know if Katsuki would still be home. She should’ve texted him.

The morning chirps of the birds made up for how dreadfully quiet and stale the upscale neighborhood was. Now that she thought about it, their chirps seemed rather loud; there might’ve been a nest nearby. It was getting colder as the winter steadily crept closer into view, and she wondered why birds were still up north. The sudden influx of a harsh chill in the air may have delayed their nesting habits, though. (Y/n) briefly looked over the nearest tree, the branches long ridden of its leaves, but didn’t find any nest, instead spotting a single turtle dove waddling along the edge of Izuku and Katsuki’s yard.

The yank of the front door made (Y/n) yelp, ripping her attention away from whatever previous questions she had about finding a turtle dove so far out from the city. She turned, and upon seeing Katsuki glaring down at her with a gobsmacked expression, shirtless and with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, she almost forgot why she came here.

“Da fuck ‘re you doin’ ‘ere?” He belted, resuming brushing his teeth. “’is six in da morrin’!” (Y/n) winced as he almost spat toothpaste at her.

This was her first time seeing him face to face since their hiking trip. He had a light stubble – probably from not shaving yet this morning. Though, sometimes he kept it that way. She tried to subdue her shakiness (he hadn’t noticed, right?) as she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a pack of Mevius Lights. Katsuki paused, his brushing slowing down and his furrowed brow deepening, unsettled as he stared down at the pack of cigarettes in (Y/n)’s hand.

“Izuku left these at my place last night. Since my apartment is on campus, we have a rule about–”

Katsuki met her eye with an accusatory glower, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth, a bit of toothpaste dripping down the side of his mouth. “Deku was with you last night?”

(Y/n) seized up. “You didn’t know?”

Katsuki’s face twisted into something ugly. He blinked, shaking his head slightly. He took a breath through his nose, attempting to self-soothe.

“No?” He snapped, a little harsher than he meant, but that’s how it always was with him. He heaved a deep sigh, snatching the pack of cigarettes from (Y/n) before trudging back into the house, leaving the front door wide open. Today’s already off to a great fuckin’ start…

(Y/n) stood unmoving on the porch, staring wide-eyed at Katsuki’s retreating back. She glanced to the side as she heard Katsuki spit his toothpaste in the kitchen sink and rinse his mouth out. This… was all she needed to do, right? Return the cigarettes?

She stood uncomfortably fixed, watching through the open door Katsuki stomp around the lower level of the house, grabbing a shirt out of the hallway closet. She slowly began to pivot on her heel, about to retreat down the sidewalk. Okay… Bye, Katsuki…?

“You want breakfast or not?” Katsuki shouted at her from the kitchen.

An apparent frown was plastered on Katsuki’s face as he slapped the shio koji on the fillet. He didn’t speak to (Y/n) at all except to ask her if the rice was ready. He moved about the kitchen naturally and deliberately – everything was where he expected it to be – though, he was a little cruel in his performance. That fish didn’t deserve to be sliced in the neck so viciously, did it?

(Y/n) felt sloppy and in his way, almost side-stepping him each time he reached to grab a different ingredient. All she was doing was preparing the rice in the far-off corner of the kitchen, and still, she blocked him from a cabinet by simply just being there. While attempting to get around her, Katsuki would glance down at her, finally breaking out of the almost trance-like state that cooking does to him.

“I–,” (Y/n) wanted to apologize. This was probably the fourth time they’ve tried to bypass one another.

“Move?” Katsuki hawked.

(Y/n) shut her mouth, stamping out of Katsuki’s way and pressing her back against the counter, watching him as he searched a cupboard for an extra bottle of soy sauce. She shrunk away from him as he passed her, frenzying around the kitchen more than usual, fixated on making her breakfast.

She was grateful, in a way. Katsuki would wring his own neck before she left his house unfed. She knew now Katsuki wasn’t really one for conversation; however, she tried anyway.

“This is a lot for just miso,” she commented, observing just how much Katsuki was cooking. His nose wrinkled slightly as he ran the steamed beans under cold water. He didn’t look at (Y/n) as he moved to check the rice.

“I’m used to making big helpings,” he replied, and oddly, it made (Y/n)’s stomach stir. This was the first time she’s spoken normally with Katsuki in weeks; to have him not raise his voice at her for a change made her realize what his fangirls were crazy for.

“Yeah?” (Y/n) leaned her elbows back against the empty spot on the counter. She watched Katsuki, her gaze lingering on his back as he lowered the heat for the fillet, sizzling filling the kitchen. (Y/n)’s stomach audibly growled, and she blamed Katsuki’s cooking skills for tuning her appetite. The rice finished, but Katsuki made it over to the pot before she could, stirring and fluffing the grains. He took the pot over to the sink, tilting it slightly as he cracked the lid, draining some of the leftover water.

(Y/n) easily settled into her role of watching instead of helping, and as usual during her visits, her gaze traveled over to the various pictures hanging on the refrigerator. Snapshots of Izuku greeting fans throughout the years were spread around; a few of them looked like they were from the start of his hero career. There were exactly two polaroids of Katsuki and his fans clipped next to Izuku’s. He wasn’t smiling the way Izuku was, and he looked a lot younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen. (Y/n) always wondered if Katsuki enjoyed the attention that came with being a Pro.

Other photos, selfies, of Izuku and Katsuki together littered most of the remaining space, and she could envision the progression of their relationship. Izuku was always smiling in them, wide and with teeth, and only the corners of Katsuki’s lips pulled up into tiny smirks, except for one photo where he was blurry and flicking off the camera from behind Izuku.

There was one photo of Izuku and Uravity together. Izuku didn’t smile as big in that one. (Y/n) always felt something burn within her whenever she looked at it.

(Y/n) looked over all of these photos any time she was in their kitchen, and every time, she found herself pausing at the few that were ripped in half and taped back together.

Katsuki sat across from (Y/n) at the island bar, crossing his arms. “Eat,” he vaguely gestured to all the food on the table. (Y/n) wanted to make fun of him for his usual way of talking in caveman-speak around her. He was a simple man: ‘woman, eat food, in stomach, work.’

(Y/n) took the pair of chopsticks, eyeing Katsuki with a raised brow. He appeared to be itching to ask her something. She wondered to herself who would even believe her if she told them Ground Zero was so much quieter once they got to know him. He watched her as she took her first bite of the salmon, the salty juices bursting in her mouth.

“Mmmm~!”

Katsuki seemed to relax, but his face remained as stern as ever. (Y/n) was too busy digging into her buffet to pay him any mind. Only when she swallowed her fifth bite did she glance up at Katsuki.

“None for you?” She asked, reaching across the table to pick up a piece of egg with her chopsticks. Katsuki shook his head, briefly holding his hand up. He made this for her. This was her breakfast.

The sound of slurping and munching may have been obnoxious, but Katsuki was filled with nothing but satisfaction; it told him she enjoyed his cooking.

When (Y/n)’s eating slowed, Katsuki was the one to pick up the conversation again. “Deku stayed with you?”

(Y/n) nodded, sipping the tea Katsuki brewed. She set the ceramic gently back down on the table.

Katsuki mirrored her, sipping his own tea and nodding.

He looked back at (Y/n) as he set his cup down, leaning back in his seat. (Y/n) thought his expression could’ve been mistaken for concern.

“Was he… Eh,” Katsuki glanced down, quickly licking his lower lip. “He was okay?”

(Y/n) lowered her bowl, meeting his eye. “Um, yeah… He seemed normal. He could’ve told me he was coming over, though.”

Katsuki nodded. He left it at that. (Y/n) needed to finish eating before her first class, and if Katsuki remembered her schedule correctly, it started at 9 AM today.

“Have you thought about it?” He eventually blurted. (Y/n) glanced up at him once more, swallowing a mouthful of rice and egg.

“Thought about…?”

Katsuki’s crossed arms tightened as he scoffed, looking down at what was left of the food between them. “Moving in,” he murmured. The tips of his ears burned, and part of him immediately regretted bringing it up.

(Y/n)’s head spun, and she glanced back down at her rice. “I thought you were on the fence about that?”

Katsuki sputtered at the accusation, fidgeting in his seat as he adjusted his posture. “If you don’t want to, just fuckin’ say that,” he grumbled. (Y/n) frowned at that.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, I just…,” she couldn’t vocalize it. She glanced back over at the pictures of Izuku and Katsuki on the refrigerator. “Wouldn’t it be too invasive? I mean, I don’t know…”

Katsuki stared at her blankly from across the table. Izuku was so much better at this than he was. Talking. Why couldn’t she just give him a straight yes or no?

“Invasive for who?” Katsuki almost grimaced.

“I don’t know, you guys just have a whole life here. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I’ve already told you, you don’t ruin anything, stupid.”

“Then, Koburi Pass wasn’t my fault?” (Y/n) mentioned bitterly, glancing up to meet Katsuki’s eye. He blinked, uncrossing his arms as he sat upright, no longer slouching in the chair across from her.

“No,” he shook his head, looking down at the food between them as he spoke. He sounded breathless and quiet. Shame. “Of course not. That was my own fault for letting my emotions get outta control. Nothin’ to do with you,” and he’s sincere about that, too.

(Y/n)’s stunned by the honesty in his voice. That was the first time she witnessed the quiet, rumbling honor Ground Zero set an example of. (Y/n) slowly took another bite of her salmon.

“It won’t happen again,” he told her. He meant it. He always meant it every time he said it.

Katsuki watched as (Y/n) chewed her food at an aching pace, really feeling his words settle in her gut. She wouldn’t tell him, but seeing him punch Izuku like that – so impulsive yet purposeful, almost practiced – really haunted her. Izuku didn’t exactly answer her when she asked if he’d ever done it before, and she was afraid Katsuki would be overly honest if she asked him. Maybe it was better if she didn’t know and left it in the past.

She took a spoonful of broth, gathering a decent amount of green onions and tofu along with it. Leaning forward, she reached across the table with the spoon in hand, almost shoving it in Katsuki’s face. Katsuki pulled away, his brow ridge creasing as he looked at her oddly.

“Try some,” (Y/n) offered. Katsuki scoffed.

“No. I already know it’s good.”

(Y/n) didn’t relent. “Aren’t you hungry, though? You should eat something before hero work.”

“I’m fine.”

“Please?” (Y/n) tried to pout, but her lips quivered into an inviting smile.

Katsuki stared back at her with a frown. He eventually let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically, before reaching to take the spoon, but (Y/n) pulled it away right before he grabbed it, careful not to spill anything. Katsuki’s eyes widened just a fraction because what the fuck kind of audacity does this girl have…?!

“Ah-ah,” (Y/n) tutted. She raised her eyebrows knowingly, and Katsuki darkened.

“No.”

(Y/n) groaned, almost deflating upon his denial. “C’mon, just one bite!”

Katsuki winced, his lip pulling up into disgust as he looked away. His body felt warm again, and he wanted it to stop.

“God, if it’ll get you to shut up, fine.” He caved rather quickly; he disliked the sound of whining.

(Y/n) giggled, leaning forward once more, reaching the spoon across the table, and Katsuki hesitantly met her halfway. He opened his mouth, lips enveloping the spoon; (Y/n) tilted the handle to allow the miso broth to slip down his throat. Katsuki tried to hold eye contact with her, but he ended up glancing away at the last minute, finding comfort in staring at the table instead. (Y/n) smiled at him, pulling the spoon away as she felt him swallow.

“Good?”

Katsuki looked appalled at the question. “Of course it’s good,” he murmured, his abrasiveness simmering down.

“Want another bite?” (Y/n) asked, tasting a mouthful of miso herself. Katsuki seemed to think about it, staring off distantly at the food, before shaking his head. (Y/n) didn’t pester him anymore. She was surprised that he even agreed to be spoon-fed even once.

“So, you haven’t thought about it?” Katsuki circled back to the previous conversation, though his normally gravely tone was softer and more curious this time. (Y/n) lazily played with her food, watching the rice mix with the remaining slices of fish left on her plate. She was feeling full.

She didn’t answer for a few minutes, going back and forth in her mind about the positives and negatives of moving in with her boyfriends. Katsuki was surprisingly patient. It wasn’t exactly too soon, was it? How soon do people normally move in with each other? She’s been seeing them for almost three months now. It’d be a load off of her financially if she moved in, and rent is already such a big chunk of her paychecks. A decent amount of her belongings are already lounging about their home… Some of her clothes… Her toothbrush… Skincare products…

The inside of her cheek rolled between her molars. “Give me two weeks.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows raised.

“Okay.”

Katsuki ended up running late (by his standards). He likes to leave for the agency before seven, so he was already running late by the time (Y/n) showed up. He bustled around the house, switching out his pajama pants for a pair of baggy jeans.

“Katsuki, what the hell are you wearing?” (Y/n) blabbed when he came back downstairs.

Katsuki whirled around, offended. “Wha–?! What the hell are you wearing, hah??” He snapped back, pointing to (Y/n)’s skirt that was much too short for the winter chill.

“Your jeans are just so big.”

Katsuki rummaged through his gym bag, double-checking to make sure he had all of his personal care items. “Don’t like shit hugging my nuts,” he grumbled.

Amid shoving a change of clothes in his gym bag, he paused, his eyes shifting back over to (Y/n), who was rinsing out her bowl.

“You got a ride? The agency’s in the opposite direction of your school.”

(Y/n) froze, blinking. He wasn’t taking her with him?

“I took the bus, but the nearest stop is–,” Katsuki turned away, satisfied with her answer as he moved to put his shoes on.

“Well, you made it out here, you can make it back.”

(Y/n) supposed he was right. She noted then how comfortable she became depending on the heroes, almost expectantly so, and all it took was one denial to remind her of her independence. But they couldn’t blame her for that. They weren’t her caregivers or anything, but they were steadily providing a hefty amount of support in different areas of her life. Meals, finances, transportation; it wasn’t that wrong of her to expect Katsuki to drive her back to campus.

“So, you’re going to leave me here by myself, then?” It sounded more anxious and accusatory than she intended. They never left her alone in their house before. She’s always accompanied by one of them, and their house was just so large. She’s only been in a few of the main, necessary rooms, and that was with their supervision. A majority of it was unexplored territory.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder at her, lacing up his sneakers with a raised brow. “Uh, you can leave at any time to get to the bus stop. Dunno when your bus is.” Dismissive, but he trusted her. Not many could say that about Ground Zero.

(Y/n) loosened up. She completely forgot she was leaving, too. Still, her shoulders were heavy with responsibility while her gut bubbled with mischief.

“What about locking–?”

Katsuki heaved his gym bag over his shoulder, reaching for the doorknob. “Call Deku. Or I can tell him to call you now. He’s probably already at the office. He can lock it remotely.”

(Y/n) was stunned into silence. Damn rich people.

Katsuki was about to leave when (Y/n) stopped him. He turned to look back at her, a little irritated because she was making him even later.

“Um–! Have a good day…?” She offered, her tone veering off into a question. All of this was too domestic, almost like they were married. She knew she overstepped a line when she got a glimpse of Katsuki’s confused expression.

“You…,” his brow furrowed, “too…”

(Y/n) wanted to kiss him goodbye, but that might’ve taken it too far. Where Izuku was eager to explore, Katsuki aired on the side of caution.

(Y/n) watched from the peephole as Katsuki pulled out of the driveway in the sleek, black sports car. She could tell it was expensive but not as flashy as it could’ve been – probably to not draw attention when on the road.

Now, with Katsuki gone, the house seemed to hold its breath, and so did (Y/n).

She peered at the stairwell, a resolve pulling her to check the rooms she’s never visited before. Giddy, she bounded up the stairs before pausing at the top, hesitation presiding over her previous enthusiasm to be sure she truly was alone in the large house. It wasn’t like Izuku or especially Katsuki to trick her like that, but she couldn’t help the inkling in the back of her mind.

Multiple doors remained closed on the expansive second floor, and (Y/n) already knew three of them were bathrooms. The first door to her right, however, was noticeably unlatched, hiding an All Might-themed office behind it. (Y/n) gaped as she pulled the door ajar, popping her head into the room to fully take in all of the Collector’s Edition All Might figures, posters, and random trinkets (several cans of unopened vintage All Might soda). It was a no-brainer that this was Izuku’s office. His desk area was cluttered with papers; (Y/n) noted that he kept much better care of his All Might merchandise than his workspace. She briefly pondered how he must’ve handled the previous Symbol of Peace’s death. It’d been seven years since then, but (Y/n) didn’t know how big of a fan he was. She frowned, glancing around the office once more, a pang of sickly guilt coming over her. Backing out of the room, she closed the office door behind her. She shouldn’t be nosing through his stuff like this.

Though, it didn’t stop her from moving further down the hallway, past the first bathroom, the second bathroom, and stopping at the next closed door. This one was shut tight, but she knew it was the guest bedroom. She’d offer to sleep here multiple times when she felt she overstayed her welcome, but Izuku and Katsuki always brushed off her insistence. She couldn’t imagine the spare bedroom was anything special, but she’s never seen it; her curiosity for the house she may eventually live in peeked, and it got the better of her. She turned the knob.

Oh. It was locked.

She stared at the doorknob for a second before trying to twist it again. Definitely locked.

(Y/n) stepped away, eyeing the door strangely before continuing to the adjacent hallway. Katsuki’s office was over here, but she’s never been inside – only peered at him from the doorway while he pounded away on his computer, acting like he didn’t notice her. She wanted to snoop around some; however, knowing him, he’ll know if something’s been moved.

Da, da, da, da, da! It's the motherfuckin' D-O-double-G (Snoop Dogg!)

(Y/n) jolted and squealed, her blood running cold and still in her veins as her ringtone blasted from her back pocket through the empty house. If she were any more superstitious, she would’ve imagined it was for her protection that it went off before she intruded any further. Maybe it was a good thing she forgot to put her phone on vibrate this time.

She fumbled to pull her phone out, quickly recognizing Izuku’s contact name and answering the call.

“Hello?” She blared on an exhale. Izuku took a moment to respond.

“Are you okay? You sound anxious,” he noticed almost immediately. (Y/n) fidgeted, her feet shuffling down the stairs to the lower level of the house, suddenly feeling caught. Izuku could hear her movement through the phone. “(Y/n)?”

“I’m fine, just heading out,” she explained, brushing off her previous haste. Izuku was quiet while (Y/n) tied her shoes, but she surmised he was just preoccupied with something. Once her shoes were on, she grabbed her bag and double-checked that she had everything. As she stepped out the front door, she let Izuku know she was leaving the house. Izuku hummed in acknowledgment.

“What’d you go over there for?” He asked, his tone muted. (Y/n) could hear the drag of a pen signing something. He must have her on speaker.

“You left your cigarettes at my apartment,” the writing stopped. (Y/n) waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. She walked down the sidewalk, looking to see if the dove was still there. It wasn’t. “I’d get in trouble if my RA found them.” She heard the creak of a chair, and Izuku continued writing.

“I’m glad you follow the rules so strictly, sweetie.”

She couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm, but regardless, she swallowed with a tightened lip. They danced around their actions from the previous night; Izuku was comfortable addressing it, but perhaps he wasn’t in the mood to. There was then a click behind her coming from the front door, and (Y/n) whipped around, still holding the phone to her ear. Everything appeared the same; the door she just closed remained closed.

“I just locked the house,” Izuku stated plainly, rather muffled. (Y/n) could tell he had his hand over his mouth, probably resting his chin in his palm. “I can stay on the phone until you get to the bus, but I have to leave the office soon.” (Y/n) blinked an eye roll away as she walked down the sidewalk, passing the large, neighboring houses. Talking to Izuku when he was at work was always cumbersome, and (Y/n) would quickly remember that her place came after hero work.

Almost rebelliously, she made him stay on the line.

“Did Katsuki tell you what I said?” (Y/n) teased, kicking the pebbled concrete under her feet as she walked. Izuku said no.

“I told him to give me two weeks until I decide if I move in with you guys or not.”

Izuku paused, and there was movement on his line; he took her off speaker, his voice now much closer, prominent,with a hint of urgency if (Y/n) wanted to press a little deeper. “Is that a promise?”

(Y/n) hesitated, the end of the upscale neighborhood coming into view.

“It’s a promise.”

The first week flew by almost unnoticed by the trio, and (Y/n) stayed over more frequently than before. They each melded into a morning rhythm to ensure (Y/n) arrived at school or work on time, even if it inconvenienced the two heroes; schedule adjustments were only a small price to pay for what they were asking of her. Steadily, (Y/n) carried more personal belongings with her each stay. An extra blanket here, some books from her bookshelf there; they flowed in with her, fitting snugly in their new spots in the living room.

Hands wandered a little more generously come nightfall. Katsuki staggered, uncertain as he watched through the dark his boyfriend’s hands slowly move to grip (Y/n)’s thighs, pulling her on top of him. (Y/n) mewled into Izuku’s mouth, and he swallowed it up, a stiffness pressing between them. Katsuki scooted closer to the two, frowning as the sheets rustled. His festering need to always be attended to brimmed, and (Y/n) felt a meaty palm, thick with callus entangling itself in her scalp, pulling her away from Izuku, breaking their kiss. Izuku watched with hungry eyes, dilated pupils harrowing through the low light as his two lovers now locked lips just as deeply, mixing his spit with their own. Katsuki shifted, pulling (Y/n) off of Izuku to now lie underneath the Explosion hero, their kiss never-ending. Izuku was never shy about intruding, placing tender pecks along Katsuki’s neck and jaw, his earlobe catching between his teeth. Katsuki groaned into (Y/n)’s mouth, and it was exquisite the way it filled her lungs. (Y/n) was never completely confident in Katsuki’s sentiments towards her, but as she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him further down against her, his thick, hardened cock rubbing against her through his sweatpants, she was optimistic she was getting on his good side.

Katsuki pulled away from (Y/n), giving her a quick peck on the lips, which she didn’t return in time, before sitting back on his heels and yanking his t-shirt over his head. He’s been cautious about exposing his lower half in front of her ever since the rejection; Katsuki learns from his mistakes. (Y/n) watched from underneath Katsuki as Izuku’s teeth traveled from Katsuki’s neck to his chest, biting one of his nipples before kissing it. (Y/n) sighed at the sight, her lower stomach stirring. Katsuki didn’t take his eyes off of (Y/n), the heat of their bodies already creating a light sheen of sweat on each of them. Izuku was already mostly naked except for his briefs, and the hand he had on (Y/n)’s thigh sneakily traveled up to her underwear, slipping them down her legs, stopping right at Katsuki’s aching groin. Katsuki’s breath hitched, and he glanced at Izuku, almost searching for clearance, but Izuku paid him no mind, too preoccupied with burying his nose (Y/n)’s hair, cradling her. (Y/n)’s legs fell from Katsuki’s hips, spreading open for Izuku’s scarred fingers, and Katsuki often can’t help but believe they’ve done this before – without him. Still, he watched with full attention as Izuku teased her clit with his fingertip.

(Y/n) whimpered, already feeling crowded by the two men, and shimmied, pushing her panties the rest of the way down her legs. Her knee brushed against Katsuki’s erection, and he held it there, his hips pressing forward, insistent on finding some kind of friction. Izuku and (Y/n) moved together so fluidly, and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel so rigid in comparison.

Izuku quickly recognized his boyfriend’s silently ripening envy and addressed him with a kiss on his pectoral, sitting up to meet his lips with his own. Their kiss deepened, eyes closing as (Y/n) watched Izuku move to palm Katsuki’s clothed cock. When they pulled away from each other, they shared a loving moment as they pressed their foreheads together, almost grounding one another. Katsuki whispered something to Izuku, and Izuku frowned and seemed unsure, but reluctantly nodded.

(Y/n) reached up, whining and gripping Katsuki’s waistband to get his attention back to her. Katsuki couldn’t help but be pulled back in, caging her underneath him. She guided one of his hands under her shirt, cupping it around her breast, and his cock twitched as his thumb ran over her nipple. He sighed tightly, knowing he had to be careful right now; his reserve was purposeful.

(Y/n) met Katsuki’s eye with an almost helpless glint. Katsuki thought she was really playing up the virgin act, and it made him want to fuck her little cunt open even more. She pulled on his sweatpants again, testing him. Izuku had removed his boxer briefs and was stroking himself, observing the two. Katsuki can only be teased for so long, so he reached between him and (Y/n), pulling his sweats down, his cock bouncing and hitting (Y/n)’s lower stomach. She didn’t mean to gasp; he was just as thick and long as she remembered, his balls hanging heavy and the head already leaking a steady stream of pre-cum down the veiny shaft.

“You gonna actually suck it this time?” Katsuki nipped, his face souring into a scowl, and it made (Y/n)’s chest thump. In the heat of the moment, with how tentative he seemed, she almost forgot how awful his attitude could be. She stuttered, suddenly insecure as she shifted underneath him, and Katsuki pulled away to stroke himself once or twice.

Izuku stepped in then with a gentle smile, his hand replacing Katsuki’s around his shaft. He glanced at (Y/n).

“I can show you how.”

(Y/n) watched, holding her breath, as Katsuki huffed a dry laugh but leaned back, moving to rest against the various pillows and blankets thrown about. Izuku glanced at (Y/n) before leaning down, his lips wrapping around the tip of Katsuki’s cock. Katsuki’s jaw fell slack as his hand gripped Izuku’s hair – not tugging but guiding him down to take him further – and (Y/n) studied every technicality presented to her with widened eyes, frozen in place: how Katsuki’s hips tilted at just the right angle, thrusting lightly, how Izuku’s jaw loosened whenever his tongue jutted out, licking up the base of Katsuki’s cock, the wet noises of spit and pre-cum mixing, the moans coming from Katsuki. (Y/n)’s tummy swirled as she watched the Number One and Number Two heroes, and if she remembered their titles even for a second – how this is their private life the media doesn’t see – she’d have to glance away.

Katsuki pushed Izuku’s head down into his pelvis, his pubic hair tickling his nose. (Y/n) gaped, and she sat up on her elbows, watching Izuku deepthroat Katsuki. Katsuki groaned, licking his lower lip, and as Izuku swallowed around Katsuki’s cock, his hand came up to fondle his balls.

(Y/n) watched Katsuki’s face as he huffed and bit his lip, finally pulling Izuku off of him. Izuku popped off, coughing, with a mess of saliva and tears dripping down his face. He was grinning, though.

(Y/n)’s cunt was throbbing with how soaked she was. Her fingers wandered lower, finding relief in drawing small circles around her clit. She spread her juices around, wondering if the two men would notice her need.

Izuku readjusted, positioning himself on Katsuki’s lap, and only then did (Y/n) realize just how painfully hard the Number One hero was. There was an air of desperation that (Y/n) recognized in the three of them now, and she watched Katsuki wrap his hand around his cock along with Izuku’s, frotting. He stroked both of their cocks with a rhythm that had Izuku thrusting up into his hand, wailing, eager to finally be touched. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and his breathing became ragged as his hand pumped even faster, twisting his wrist once at the head of their cocks.

(Y/n) couldn’t sit there anymore, realizing both of them were too trapped in their chase for release to look elsewhere; she had to go to them. She came closer to Katsuki, and his free hand innately found her hips without even looking at her. She guided him to her cunt, and he inserted one, two digits easily. Katsuki’s gaze broke away from his hand pumping his and Izuku’s cocks to find (Y/n), her hips gyrating on his other hand as she rode his fingers, chasing her orgasm. Izuku took in the sight hungrily, his orgasm quickly approaching.

“C’mere,” Katsuki ordered (Y/n). (Y/n) faltered, her movements stilling for a moment, but she saw Katsuki eyeing her breasts. She paused just long enough to lift her shirt over her head, dropping it somewhere on the bed behind her. She leaned forward, and Katsuki took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking on the nub. (Y/n) squealed, her hips continuing to gyrate once more; his fingers fucked up in time with her, and his wrist rubbed against her clit with each thrust.

Izuku was pushed over the limit of what he could handle. He came with shuddering groans, his grip flinging to Katsuki’s hand to slow his pumping, but Katsuki persisted, even going as far as to speed up his strokes to ride Izuku through his orgasm. Izuku’s cum acted as lube as Katsuki pumped their cocks together vigorously, and Izuku begged him to stop, the squelching noises almost bringing Katsuki to his peak, too.

Izuku quickly pulled away, likely out of fear of further overstimulation. (Y/n)’s orgasm followed after; watching Izuku fall apart for the first time, seeing his thick semen spurt out and land on his and Katsuki’s bodies, and a particularly hard bite on her nipple from Katsuki was her downfall. She came on Katsuki’s hand with a loud moan, drenching his palm in his juices as her toes curled underneath her. Katsuki continued to stroke his own cock, using Izuku’s semen to quicken his pumps. Katsuki thrust up into his hand, feeling his balls tightening. He pulled off of (Y/n)’s breast as she came down from her orgasm and looked at the mess she made in his hand.

“Oh, fuck.”

He pumped faster. Just a little more.

(Y/n) suddenly grew bold.

She quickly knelt, taking the head of Katsuki’s cock in her mouth, tasting the remains of Izuku’s cum – warm, bitter. Katsuki audibly gasped, his eyes widening as he watched (Y/n) suck on the head of his cock. He felt her tongue run over his slit, and just as (Y/n) was actively trying to be mindful of her teeth, Katsuki came into her mouth with gritted teeth.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He hissed, his hands reaching to grip anything that wasn’t (Y/n) because he couldn’t promise himself that he wouldn’t shove her head all the down his shaft right now.

(Y/n) flinched, feeling the rush of cum into her mouth, just as salty as Izuku’s. She wasn’t too crazy about the taste, but maybe it was acquired.

Just as (Y/n) pulled away from Katsuki, Izuku kissed her, his tongue searching for hers and ridding her of any excess essence leftover.

Katsuki held her close that night.

The second week ended slower than the first, but (Y/n) kept her promise.

By that time, the only things left to move from her apartment were some clothes, pictures, and the Shoto figurines.

#bakudeku x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader x midoriya #deku x reader #baku x reader x deku #reader x bakudeku #mha #bnha #tto

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superfanficnatural · 1 month

Text

The Son: Chapter 2

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Male!Reader (The Son)

Summary: You’ve finally broken free of the forces controlling you at a great cost, though the cost of doing so was even greater than you thought. Now, you fight for the antithesis of what you had been representing, and have to grapple with finding your own place in the galaxy while grappling with the person trying to find their way into your heart. Will The Son choose the light? Or the dark? Whatever the answer may be, may the force be with us.

A/N: As you guys might have put together by now, this series is gonna be a long haul! Well kinda but not really, slow burn for sure, sorry about it but I promise you’ll love it. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,953

Italics are your thoughts

Masterpost

“It’s time to get up, my son.”

You woke to the sounds of birds chirping, your hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun peeking into the grand room where you sat. Looking around, you noticed that the room had become somewhat vegetated with multiple birds having nests on the pillars.

“I wonder how long I have been gone for,” you mumbled to yourself as you got up.

Your entire body was slightly sore even through the force protection so you assumed you had been gone for quite a while. Spending a few minutes stretching, you felt much more limber and decided to walk outside, coming into view of the cargo containers Anakin had brought you.

“Right, a ship,” you reminded yourself.

Reaching out, you opened each container and raised the parts out of them and into the air. You had made a scan of Anakin’s ship when you had brought him back to it with the force and by doing so, understood each of its parts and how each of them connected, what their purpose was, everything. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but thinking about it now, you realized just how powerful your control was over the force, how natural it felt. Once again, my father amazes me. You commanded the force, build me a perfect ship. Your connection with the force was so deep it was nearly as if you were commanding your own subconscious, telling it, or rather the force, to use your knowledge to the fullest, know your desire to the capacity, and carry it out to the fullest extent.

The rather large pieces began to float towards each other, thousands of smaller pieces coming to support their melodic sway. As they began to assemble, you understood what was happening, the process, the connections, the purpose, as if they were pieces of your own body. Piece by piece, the ship began to truly assemble, a perfect craft in your mental image, utilizing every single part. Soon, you had a completely assembled ship floating above your head, though, there were still a few dozen pieces left that you were unfamiliar with. Choosing to put those aside for now, you floated them through the ship into a closet room you already understood you had designed. Looking back down, you sifted the containers aside and planted the ship.

You gave it a once over with a solid nod, appreciating its beauty and capacity. It was a mid-size ship, with a bridge at the front with a gunner position right below, gunner position on the rear with another up top. The gunner position in the front was equipped with blaster and ion cannons, the rear supporting with blaster and concussive mines, the top gunner position being a turbolaser. You could also tell from the underbelly that there was a tractor beam as well, docking stations on both sides, with a small magnet area for cargo. You hadn’t seen many ships other than Anakin’s, but this one seemed to be quite capable. You wondered where he had gotten such weaponry but chose not to focus on the past.

As you walked up to the ramp, it opened immediately as you got closer, as if it could sense that you were approaching. Reaching the ramp, you entered the ship to be met with a clear silver and gray finish on the walls and floors, all of the parts so perfect as if they were brand new giving the ship a shiny look. As you entered, you found the navigation of the ship to be quite efficient and simple, hallways with markers identifying where which room is on the walls, a few bedrooms, a cantina area, living space, multiple closets for all kinds of storage, a bridge with plenty of space for a pilot and co-pilot with 3-4 others. As you sat down in the cockpit area, the controls in front of you felt strange. You had never piloted a ship before this so you chose to let the force control your body instead. Calling upon those who came before you in the force, you closed your eyes and allowed their skills to envelop you, your hands moving to flick knobs and push buttons, grabbing at the controls as if it were natural. The ship took off and you opened your eyes to see yourself controlling the vehicle now. You were still a bit apprehensive since it was your first experience but as you looked at the same controls you were baffled at moments ago, you now understood them, or at least were beginning to.

“Now, I need to repress my force before I leave the pyramid and assess the galaxy,” you spoke aloud, as if the ship could hear you.

You had no idea what the outside galaxy looked like and what the balance of the force currently was so you reflexively suppressed your force to just a bit under what Anakin had, hoping it would make you blend in.

Reaching out with your mind, you willed the pyramid to open and you left with your ship, going out into the dark and mysterious galaxy of the unknown.

“Now, what do you have to show me? What event has brought me here?” you whispered as you closed your eyes and focused.

Hundreds of events flashed through your mind in seconds and you winced as they overtook you. Death, pain, suffering, domination, it was the only thing you could feel. Your heart hurt in your chest and your throat burned, tears welling in your eyes at the horrid sights that took your breath away. You could feel the deaths of millions, dying at the hands of the dark side. The Jedi, betrayed by their own army, all of their lights being snuffed out in the dark shadow casted by the Emperor. But then you felt joy, freedom, and love, the Rebel Alliance rising from the ashes of the Jedi to defeat the empire and bring the light back to the galaxy. You sighed in relief as you believed this was the time you were brought back to. If only you were that lucky... you were instantly pulled into a new memory of a dark shadow rising from the Empire, undead almost as if it waved its hand and created a new... order. The First Order. The darkness came back, millions of innocent people dead, worlds sent into chaos under the pretense of “order.” You were violently thrown from the vision as you came back to your ship. Your chest heaved with your breaths and your eyes were widened, your body in a complete state of shock. It took you a few moments to collect yourself but you repositioned yourself in your chair and calmed down.

Why wasn’t I shown the nexus event? Why am I suddenly awake now? How did this happen to the galaxy?

Your mind was flooded with your thoughts and more questions arose than answers. You sat and studied the vision and the information that it gave you. You knew that no one that you had met and known before were no longer alive, and what was worse, that it was Anakin that brought upon the fall of the Jedi in the first place. Though, you knew that this was no time to mourn the past, but to figure out what to do.

If I was brought back at this point, that means that the nexus event is either happening or will happen soon... if it is the latter, then I must assume that I’m necessary for this nexus event which is why I was woken up. I must find the current representation of the light and help them.

Once more, you reached out with the force, trying to find any sliver of light amongst the muck of the dark. It took a while but you managed to find a decently strong light source, on a planet very far away. You instinctively input codes into the hyperdrive and set off immediately on your course, not even knowing what the name of the planet was. As your ship entered hyperspace, the galloping blue and white streams appeared on the other side of the glass, as if you were flying through a tunnel. As you looked closer, you found yourself getting tired, your eyes closing as you couldn’t help but pass out in your chair.

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

“My son.”

You opened your eyes to find your father standing in front of you, nothing around you but bright white.

“F-father?” your voice broke as you called out for him, not believing that you were truly seeing him.

His kind smile appeared on his face, “It is me, my son.”

You surged forward and planted yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could.

He laughed and embraced you the same, bringing you the sense of comfort you never thought you could feel again, “It is good to see you, you look... well.”

He tousled your extremely grown out hair and picked at your wild beard which you laughed at, “Our hair never changed, we didn’t exactly have scissors.”

“It seems you have finally awakened, which means there is something you must do,” he pulled away a bit to address you.

You nodded, “I know, I’m already on my way to Leia Sky-”

He softly stopped you, “No, there is something else. You are correct, however you must first acquire your protection.”

You looked at him, confused, “My protection? Father, I do not understand.”

He gave you his fatherly look as he always did, “What was the one thing that Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka had in common other than their connection with the force?”

You thought to yourself for a moment, “Their... lightsabers.”

He smiled, “Correct. They are the weapon of force wielders, and something that you need to protect yourself and those that cannot protect themselves.”

You shook your head, “But father, I am not a Jedi. Though, I am no Sith either. I am... something in between.”

“You are once again correct. You do not belong to either side of the force. However, you control both sides of them. You are a Jedi, you are a Sith... yet you are neither. You can feel it, deep inside, my child, you know what you must claim.”

You hummed in response as you felt a pang in your chest... kyber... kyber crystal.

“Kyber,” you whispered, “my crystals.”

Your father smiled and spoke, “Indeed, my son! Go claim what is yours and carve your path forward!”

The room boomed with his voice as the light blinded you-

You thrashed awake from your chair in the cockpit as you looked out to see the ship still in hyperspace. Though, moments later, the ship exited hyperspace and you were right outside of a green and brown planet. Looking down at the console, you saw that the planet was called Utapau. You were about to input a new direction to go get your kyber crystals first when you felt it.

Your crystals.

Somehow, while you were knocked out, the ship changed directions and went for your crystals instead. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the controls and began piloting yourself to the surface. You felt a heavy presence of the dark side on the planet and decided to avoid the populated areas to make sure that no one would know you were there. As you came into view of the surface, you saw hundreds of sinkholes litter the deserted ground and felt that your crystals were deep underground. Most of the sinkholes were too small for your ship but you found a ridiculously huge one and began to pilot your ship down to the core of the planet. You were flying visually blind as you were simply descending but your scanners let you know after a few minutes that there was land a few hundred feet below you. After initiating landing gear and maneuvers, you landed the ship and opened the cargo ramp... to be met with a pitch black area you could barely see only from the lights of the ship.

“Oh, I forgot to bring a light source... this is a problem,” you spoke into the darkness.

Sighing, you turned around and went back to the ship, going to the cargo bay and opening one of the drawers. Thankfully, Anakin had brought you more than enough material for the ship, you almost thought that he just dumped a bunch of junk on you but the drawers in these cabinets were filled with all different kinds of tools. They were so small compared to everything else, you hadn’t even realized that literal tools and equipment were also fitted to your ship. Grabbing a flashlight, you turned to open the larger container in the bay area to come across a shipment of blasters. Or at least that’s what you thought they were.

Your father didn’t let you or your sister go to the outside world, ever. All you had ever known was the pyramid and random events you were able to see through the dark side. Most of what you knew of the world was surface level knowledge, and you were beginning to realize that you were basically a child in a new world.

You grabbed a blaster and looked at its craft and ingenuity, seeing the power cell and the barrel and beginning to understand how the gun worked. It was very similar to the lasers you had on the ship which made it easier to understand its functions.

Setting out, you pushed into one of the tunnels and closed the ship’s ramp behind you, shining your flashlight in the direction you felt the force pulling you in. As you walked along, there were other smaller cavities carved into the walls that seemed to go on endlessly. While you appreciated the light to see, it wasn’t what you were relying on, the force was guiding you. Through every turn, you felt the connection grow stronger as you drew closer to the crystals. After what felt like an hour, you had finally reached a large room with thousands of bright lights adorning the walls, floors, and ceiling. The entire room was filled with force energy and you found it difficult to understand which one was yours.

You dropped your flashlight and blaster, “How can I possibly choose from all of these?”

“It is not you who chooses the crystal, it is the crystal that chooses you,” a grainy older voice resounded through the room.

You instinctively ducked your head, “Who are you?”

You heard the same voice chuckle slightly, “Who I am, mmm not your concern, your crystals, yes?”

You raised an eyebrow in apprehension, “I suppose you have a point. Though you wish to help me find my crystals? And why is that?”

“Oh no, no no no. A Jedi you are, yes? Or no?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing!” the being giggled. “If Jedi you are, nothing in return you request, for helping others.”

You sighed in defeat, “I understand. What must I do?”

“Mmmm, let the crystal decide, we shall, hm? Sit, sit. Reach out with your feelings.”

You complied, sitting in a meditative stance and reaching out, letting every crystal in the room feel your presence.

“Goooood,” the voice affirmed.

You concentrated further, pouring your inner thoughts and feelings out to see which crystal would be interested. After a few moments, you heard a sharp ring, just for a moment.

Then suddenly you heard it again.

You felt movement, swirling, gathering, then... belonging.

You opened your eyes to see two crystals floating above your head. Pushing off of the ground, you were about to reach out for them before you felt a presence in front of you.

“Impossible,” you whispered breathlessly.

Force energy swirled in front of you and morphed into the shape of your sister, her kind and beautiful face gracing your eyes.

“Sister?” you asked, completely stunned.

“Brother, how good it is to see you once more,” your sister's voice graced your ears. “Though, I am afraid I am here only to do one thing,” she moved one of the crystals towards her open palm and gestured for you to reach your palm out for the other.

As the crystal floated above your hand, it suddenly began to shake and change color, a black hue enveloped the crystal and turned it into a deep black.

“As the dark was your nature, one half of your crystals, one half of you, will represent the dark,” she looked towards her palm which encouraged you to do the same. “Though my gift to you brother,” the crystal began to glow a radiant white, “is your rule over my light.”

The crystal had become a bright white, radiating a warmth that reminded you of her.

You looked back up at her as she placed the crystal into your palm beside the other to see her looking at you with a solemn smile, “I do not blame you for my death, my brother. I simply hope you may live the life I had lost in my place.”

She finished her words as her body dematerialized, her hand wiping the tear that fell being the last part of her you felt before she ultimately disappeared.

“Thank you, sister,” you whispered into the empty room before turning around and leaving.

You reached your ship soon and sat back down in the pilot’s chair, taking another look at your crystals before placing them on the center table and piloting yourself out of the sinkhole. As you exited the atmosphere, you input the code to the system that Leia Skywalker was on and set off to hyperspace.

Next Chapter

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva @impalawrites-blog @talesmaniac89 @malfoysqueen54 @writercole @hintsofhoney @lassie-bird @never--doubt

Male Reader Tag List: @myybebe @denim-devil @spnfanboy777

The Son Tag List: @brymalibu

#series #male reader #male reader insert #poe dameron x male reader #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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thelustybraavosimaid · 1 year

Text

A small compilation of Jon thinking of his favourites:

"He's frightened. We're leaving him." He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he'd given her Needle. (Jon V, AGoT)

Jon could have told him. He knew, they all knew, yet no man of them would say the words. The Others are only a story, a tale to make children shiver. If they ever lived at all, they are gone eight thousand years. Even the thought made him feel foolish; he was a man grown now, a black brother of the Night's Watch, not the boy who'd once sat at Old Nan's feet with Bran and Robb and Arya. (Jon VII, AGoT)

Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran…forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. (Jon IX, AGoT)

Outside the old Flint Barracks, he came across a dozen men pelting one another with snow. Playing, Jon thought in astonishment, grown men playing like children, throwing snowballs the way Bran and Arya once did, and Robb and me before them. (Jon XII, ADwD)

What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair.

Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself.

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. (Jon XIII, ADwD)

The last they saw one another:

It was more than he could bear, the thought of leaving him behind like this. Jon brushed away his tears, leaned over, and kissed his brother lightly on the lips.

...

"I know," Jon said. "Soon." He looked around at all the noise and confusion. "Leaving is harder than I thought." "For me too," Robb said. He had snow in his hair, melting from the heat of his body. "Did you see him?"

...

"Soon enough," Robb promised. He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely. "Farewell, Snow." Jon hugged him back. "And you, Stark. Take care of Bran."

...

"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?" He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. "I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer." Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses. (Jon II, AGoT)

#🥲🥲🥲#george come on man #asoiaf #jon snow #bran stark #robb stark #ramble

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ironwitchau · 5 months

Text

This is kind of a pilot/proof of concept for something I wanted to mess with. Wanted to see how it goes over with people. I might upload more if any one is actually interested, so let me know.

---

Fuck the Plot:

Luz walked downstairs, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The dark room she was met with was filled with bookshelves, each one had tons of books organized by genre and author. A simple counter stood between her and the dozens of books. She turned on the light and went about her daily tasks.

The place wasn't really hers. Luz merely rented the space upstairs from the owner, who also gave her a job as a cashier/ store runner. Luz owed the owner, Raven, a lot for taking the sixteen year old in, giving her a job, and a place to stay.

Once she finished wiping down the counter, she grabbed a cart full of books to reshelf. To think it was only a month ago that she found herself there. This was possibly the best job she’s had, with great pay.

Luz finished shelving the books and made her way to the front door. She flipped the sign to open and unlocked it before going back to behind the counter. She sighed as a blue see-through panel popped up before her.

[Daily Task Complete!

Raven’s nest: Prepare the store for open hours

Rewards: 50 EXP, +1 respect from early birds]

She blinked and thought the screen away. Ever since she woke up, these screens seemed to follow her. It seemed similar to a screen in a video game. Which Luz thought made sense in the world she found herself in. She hadn't noticed what really happened or where she was until she met Raven.

Raven was a demon with gray skin, violet hair, and four eyes. The top pair was a red color and the bottom the same violet as her hair. Luz was confused for a minute, sure that Raven was some cosplayer who’d gone camping for some reason. That thought went away pretty quickly when Raven pointed out the giant skull in the distance. That was when Luz realized she was in a world similar to the game ‘Titan’s Will’.

Titan’s Will was one of Luz’s favorite games. It might have been a long game, over 100 hours of gameplay, but it was well made with in-depth character arcs when the player puts in the time. The plot of the game was a magicless witch learning magic in order to beat the Big Bad. Luz was ecstatic about being in the world until she realized one thing. In order to win the game, the protagonist had to die.

She had no issue with that detail when it was just a game, but when Luz was actually at risk it seemed less great. That wasn't too big a deal when the character gets brought back, but there was another problem. More often than not, when Luz played the game, she died at least twice including the canon death.

In the game, it was pretty simple as the player could just restart the battle, but Luz had no idea if that worked for her in this game. Luz was terrified about dying before she got to the canon one with no way to revive. There was one option to Luz, just avoid the plot of the game. If the protagonist was in this world too, then it didn't matter that Luz didn't play an active role. They could use their plot armor and beat the bad guy and everything else themself.

So Luz, in the world of a game and the abilities of a gamer, spent the month hidden from the plot by working at a small bookstore that isn't even mentioned in the game. To the human, it was the perfect hiding space. She was brought out of her thoughts by the door opening.

“Welcome to Raven’s Nest.” She said only to pause at the sight of the customer. It was a teen girl around Luz’s age, maybe older, with long dyed green hair that went past her shoulders while tied up, the roots grown out enough to reveal the original brown. Her eyes a sharp, piercing gold. Luz’s throat and mouth felt unnaturally dry at that moment. ‘[Observe]!’

A new screen popped up.

[Name: Amity Blight

Species: Witch]

Fuck. it was exactly who she thought it was. Amity Blight, one of the possible love interests, one of Luz’s favorite characters, and most importantly, a plot important character. The hell was she doing in this hole-in-the-wall bookstore?

She blinked the screen away only for a new one to take its place.

[A skill has level up!

Observe: 5 → 6]

Now really wasn't the time for a skill level up. Even if it was nice that it did, Luz couldn't focus on it. She blinked that screen away too and watched Amity move around the store. This wasn't dire, the protagonist doesn't even meet Amity until after twenty minutes of gameplay. Unless you were a speedrunner, of course. But this was a pebble that could cause major ripples in her plan. The plot was sneaking up on her.

Amity placed a stack of books on the counter. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Find everything alright?”

Amity hummed as Luz marked prices down to create a receipt. She said nothing about a witch fictional story hidden among the textbooks. Luz handed Amity the receipt, telling her the total. The teen left after paying and Luz slammed her head against the counter.

The fucking plot. It was catching up on her. Fuck this. Fuck the plot that would kill her if she played a part.

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #luz is trying her best #the owl house au

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transgenderer · 11 months

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The sand martin is sociable in its nesting habits; from a dozen to many hundred pairs will nest close together, according to available space. The nests are at the end of tunnels ranging from a few inches to three or four feet in length, bored in sand or gravel. The actual nest is a litter of straw and feathers in a chamber at the end of the burrow; it soon becomes a hotbed of parasites.

It has been observed that sand martins favour loess as a particular type of ground to nest in.[7] Sand martins are generally found near larger bodies of water, such as rivers, lakes or even the ocean, throughout the year.[3][8]

In Britain, the sand martin appears on its breeding grounds as the first of its family, starting towards the end of March, just in advance of the barn swallow. In northern Ohio, they arrive in numbers by mid-April, about 10 days earlier than they did 100 years ago.[9][10] At first, they flit over the larger bodies of water alone, in search of early flies. Later parties accompany other swallow species, but for a time, varying according to weather, the birds remain at these large waters and do not visit their nesting haunts. The sand martin departs early, at any rate from its more northerly haunts. In August, the gatherings at the nightly roost increase enormously, though the advent and departure of passage birds causes great irregularity in numbers. They are essentially gone from their breeding range by the end of September.

The sand martin's twittering song is continuous when the birds are on the wing and becomes a conversational undertone after they have settled in the roost. The harsh alarm is heard when a passing falcon, crow or other suspected predator requires combined action to drive it away.

there might be some near you! extremely cosmopolitan

#i wonder where they nest

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worlds-largest-juice-container · 6 months

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My ideal forms are either Alex churchland from Lisa the pointless, some sort of twink like being, or a massive overgrown robot in the forest

I would wake up after thousands of years asleep, surrounded by plant growth, with birds making nests atop my head. I would try to get up, but the chirping of baby birds would cause me to sit back down, not wanting to hurt them. Over time while I wait for them to grow, I assign myself as their protector, keeping snakes and other creatures away from my birds. When they leave the nest, I stand up for the first time again, but the birds follow me still, for i am their protector. Soon my protection envelops the whole forest, all the creatures of the wild look to me for safety, which makes it all the worse when I see a tree felled with wounds from an axe. I would cradle the tree in my arms, then look through the remaining branches to see two men, chipping away at my beloved forest, one containing the descendants of my original bird friends. I try my hardest to reason, but when axe first meets steel, could you blame an old machine for retaliation?

I wake up again, the forest around me quiet, the men are gone, all that is left behind is a red stain, and dozens of brass casings. I see the birds in the tree, now safe, but as I reach to touch them, they withdraw from my hand. I return to the fallen tree, and i vow never to let myself slip like that again, I vow myself to peace.

Unfortunately for me, the two men feel differently . They head to the tavern, telling tales of a brutal and deadly beast of metal protecting the forest, and they hire a party of adventurers to defeat it.

The adventurers arrive, and see me standing in the middle of a clearing, with a single bird on my finger. It sings to me of the ones behind me, and while I vowed to stay peaceful, their drawn weapons remind me of the two men from before. Could you blame an old machine for retaliation? They do.

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sola-whumping · 10 months

Text

Gabrial Ch. 2 Lost

Words: 1,100

Cw: Lost children, Fae (the lost children are the Fae)

Light.

Bright and loud and absolutely *contaminated* with magic. It filled them, in their ears and eyes and soul as they passed through that ever present boundary. Heat and cold mixed into something almost unbearable, flashing against their skin in a way that made them feel both singed and frost bitten at once.

Light.

Bright and colorful and twisting. Blues and purples and reds and green. All warping their vision into something impossible to understand. Impossible to make out. The colors were so vivid it felt like if they could just reach out they would *grab* them- and that doing so would burn them alive. The magic was too strong here.. and it took everything they had not to simply be ripped to shreds.

In an instant the world went quiet, and dark and cold as the birds tumbled to the ground. Wings and limbs and quiet chirps all tangled in a pile belonging to two beings that for a moment, didn’t feel quite so separate. As they oriented themselves color and sound warped back into place, focusing in the form of ringing ears and dizzy vision that slowly cleared.

The birds were greeted with silent cool air, pulled along by a gentle breeze to brush past their faces. The world was changed. It was such a stark difference from their home it was almost sickening. Gone was the comfortable humidity of the rainforest, instead the cool grass under their bare feet was only slightly damp with dew. The absent ever present symphony of bugs ached in their ears. It was just.. so.. silent. Unsettling, in a way that made them both freeze.. scared to move for the fear that just a sound would alert the rest of this new realm that *they didn’t belong here*.

And *oh*, how dangerous this was- two little birds leaving their nest before they learned how to fly. Something new and different could snatch them up without a thought, without the safety of the boundary and the rest of their colony to protect them. They felt so small in this world- and that’s what it was, a whole world of unexplored terrain and new things to see.

Kol moved first, stumbling to its feet and pulling Ria up with it. In a heartbeat they were inching closer to the trees on the other side, Kol pulling Ria away from the edge of the border and into the forest. And Ria followed, little heart racing as they were lead away from their home. With a glance back the space between realms shimmered, and closed.

The baby bird panicked, looking to Kol for comfort and finding none- just the excited joy of a new place to explore. They felt it seeping into them, tainting their fear with an excited anxiety that made them feel sick. Ria let itself be dragged a few dozen feet before it’s brain caught up and it wretched its arm away.

“What do you think we’re *doing*” it cried, little wings pressed tight to its back as it trembled. “We have to go home! We went too far-“ tears formed and fell, reflecting like broken light against the dark night of the forest. They almost shown, almost a light source of their own as Kol turned to watch them.

“I.. I know. I’m sorry. I have to see what’s out there. I’ll never get another chance” Kol squeezed Ria’s shoulder, and instead of the usual stability that came with sharing an emotional burden all they received was the electric shock of unbearable giddiness. “You have to understand” Kol urged “just for tonight, then we can go home.”

Ria hesitated, feeling sick and dizzy from the almost forced rush of emotions. “I don’t understand- I don’t- you *said* you just wanted to touch it! You said *just a peak!*” it felt.. was that anger? Regret? It didn’t like those feelings.. how they burned a hole in its chest and *hurt so bad*. It.. blamed Kol, a little, for pressuring and pushing when it should have very well seen how uncomfortable its friends were! Kol should know better then this! Ria didn’t *understand* how Kol was so- so indifferent to its fear.

“Can you not feel it? How scared I am?” Ria’s voice wavered, threatening to break as it slowly got louder. “Can’t you feel *any* empathy at all?!” It was almost overwhelming, having all these big scary emotions and having to deal with them on their own.

Kol hesitated, then sighed with a frustrated trill. “Fine. Let’s at least explore for five minutes, then go home. How’s that? At least give me that much” it let its voice dip into short irritation, watching as the ‘rejection’ of its tone took an effect on Ria.

“Just- just five minutes” the dove confirmed, anxiety heightened by Kol’s apparent anger with them. It was hard, handling all this on their own, it almost made them nauseous.

Five minutes of exploring, of new terrain and colored leaves and dim moonlight peaking through the trees. One bird having fun, while the other clung to them. The pair tracked over logs and under branches and through small streams that sapped the heat from their skin, leaving little bruises in its wake.

Finally, Ria stopped again and this time its urging was heard. A deal had been struck, forcing the two to head back through uncharted wilderness. Through the streams they went, under the branches, and over moss covered logs to seek an unfamiliar clearing that felt farther than they had traveled.

Again, by the stream the two looked at each other. “We didn’t go the right way. Follow me this time” the black bird chirped. “You got lost in your anxiety”

This time the pair went along the stream, over the logs, and under the low hanging branches.. just to find the stream again.

“This way, surely this way is correct”

Past the log, through the branches, and over the stream.. left them in the same location. Over and over they trekked, seeing the same three landmarks in slightly different ways.

By morning Ria had collapsed, exhausted by wandering with its aching limbs. Every joint seemed to hurt, from the baby birds knees to their ankles, to somehow their back where their wings connected and now drooped. “We’re lost” they despaired. “If only we hadn’t left. If only we’d turn back”

“Let’s wait for the light, when the sun is high and the paths are clear, then we will find the clearing” Kol tried, not ready to regret it’s decisions yet.

“We’re going to be in so much trouble..”

Masterlist

#Fae #whump story #whump series #original writing #chapter 2 #umbran #Gabrial #ocs

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havoc-warband · 2 years

Text

Oh, so I- I see, I’m too incompetent for you, is it?

Trahearne picked up another sheaf of papers, desperately hoping the document he was looking for would be underneath.

It wasn’t.

He was certain it should’ve been somewhere around here. No such luck: he’d have to go through the whole pile.

Sitting down with a sigh, Trahearne grabbed the first several dozen pages and started leafing through them.

I see. No, it’s fine. I’ll leave you to it then, Marshal. Go and cleanse Orr. I’ll work on my skills in the meanwhile. Maybe I’ll be good enough to be your paper-boy the next time we meet.

The Marshal stared at the papers with unseeing eyes. He forced himself to wake from his daydream - day-mare would be more accurate - with a shake of his head, and put the papers back down. He would just have to put the lot of them into his messenger bag and sort through them on the airship. It would be heavier like that, and his shoulder would not be happy with him the morning after, but at least his heart wouldn’t be alone in that anymore, then.

His last conversation with his Comm- with Vikaros had gone so terribly wrong. He couldn’t get the sour aftertaste out of his mouth whenever he started thinking about it. It was already more than two years ago, and he hadn’t heard anything from Vikaros since. Nor had he sent anything himself. Every time he’d picked up a quill and some parchment, all words had fled him. He knew that he should apologise for the truly tactless way he’d brought it up. He knew that he should assure Vikaros that he was one of the most competent warriors and leaders he’d ever seen. The rage on the charr’s face during that horrible conversation had been burning, but it didn’t entirely hide what was underneath - surprise, betrayal, and worst of all, shame. Trahearne thought that maybe he could invite him to view Orr, once it had been cleansed, or go visit him himself, but it had taken much longer than he’d thought: once reanimated, even without a leader, the Risen proved incredibly stubborn. It didn’t help that they didn’t seem to feel pain or fear anymore, either. Just hunger.

Their efforts had paid off, however, and the continent was nearly completely cleansed of Risen now. Grasses had started sprouting up here and there, and birds were nesting in the elaborate coral structures. Last week, right before he’d left, he’d even spotted a daisy springing from the still-sickly-looking soil. He might have even cried a little at the sight, such a bright sign that his Wyld Hunt was finally coming to a close after a quarter of a century of hard work, if he hadn’t been so busy. He had been sketching flowers into the margins of whatever he was reading since.

Then, they received word that Mordremoth’s activity had surged dangerously. Trahearne had sent word for his commanders to start preparing the fleet already, so that he could join them as soon as he’d returned from Orr. He had even sent a missive to Vikaros, awkwardly leaving out personal touches. He was resigned to rebuilding their friendship from nothing, but he had not received anything in response.

All of the others had sent back confirmations. Except for Vikaros. The messenger had come back empty-handed, but at least said that he’d received and read it. Trahearne supposed he’d see if the charr headed his summons or not once he arrived at Camp Resolve.

A bit rougher than it really warranted, he shook out his head again, and shoved another folder into the by-now-overly-full bag. He did really not have time for-

No, not for a knock at the door, either. It was probably just Caithe, anyway. He had arrived in the Grove only a day ago, but had been too busy to contact her, and hadn’t planned to before he left again. He supposed she could carry a few stacks of paper for him, since she’d disturbed him.

“Come in,” he said, back still to the door. He heard it open and close.

“I’m sorry, sister,” he began, “as you can see, I’m really quite busy, I’m afraid I don’t have the time to-”

His sister wasn’t purple, nor did she have yellow slitted eyes.

The stranger had been as silent as Caithe usually was, and Trahearne suddenly realised, didn’t have a presence in the Dream either. Soundless?

“Who are you?” he demanded, reaching for his staff.

“Firstborn,” the stranger greeted, “I was hoping to find you here.” Daggers glinted from where they were strapped to his legs, but he made no move to grab them. The stranger seemed at ease, a stark contrast to Trahearne himself, and the situation.

“Why?” Trahearne asked, suspicious. He finally found his staff, one-handed and without removing his eyes from the intruder, and raised it, ready to defend himself.

Normally, he would not be this suspicious of a sibling, but years of dealing with the Nightmare Court and, more recently, being a prominent political figure, had taught him distrust.

“You should not go to the Maguuma Jungle,” the other said. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth - did he find this humorous?

Trahearne scoffed, trying to hide how unsettled he was. “Do you think you can stop me?” he asked.

“Yes,” the stranger said, his smirk fully breaking through, a touch unhinged at the edges, “because you’ll doom the whole damned Pact if you go. And my friend - he’s in the Vigil, and loyal to a fault - I won’t put his life in any more danger than it already is, stuck in the middle of the Jungle with your idiotic Commander. I won’t allow you to put his life in any more danger.”

“What?” Trahearne said, lowering his staff a little, confused. The fleet hadn’t even launched yet, how were they already-

“Mordremoth has awoken,” the intruder continued, “and it wants to control every sylvari it can reach. If it could touch you, and find the knowledge in your head about the Pact’s supplies and movements, it would destroy everything. It’s almost worse than Zhaitan and the Risen.”

“What?” he repeated. This was impossible. “But the Pact-”

“Launched days ago,” the other said, and his smirk turned into a snarl. “Without you. And that’s a good fucking thing. As it currently stands, I had to- nevermind the details, I’ve saved my friend from the dragon, and I hope to the Pale Tree that the charr I’ve left him with - your rogue Commander’s warband - haven’t killed him yet, because being sylvari just became an extremely undesirable trait in a soldier.”

Trahearne fully lowered his staff then, placing the butt on the floor so he could lean on it. This was… entirely too much information, none of which he had been prepared for. “The fleet launched without me?”

The stranger groaned. “Yes, old man, keep up. It’s also the least of your problems, or have you not been listening?” He spoke with such venom behind his words, but Trahearne got the feeling it wasn’t aimed directly at him. As it was, it was only barely missing him, though, and he was tiring of it rapidly.

“Who are you?” Trahearne asked again.

“Not one of your pawns, Firstborn,” the other spat. He had been calm at the beginning, but was getting more worked up by the minute.

“Can you give me a detailed report of the situation?”

“What do I look like to you, a soldier?”

Trahearne graciously didn’t point out the daggers at his side, or the rifle on his back.

“Why are you even here?”

“I have a letter from Vikaros,” he said.

Trahearne only just managed to resist throwing his staff at him. “Why didn’t you open with that?!”

The other only laughed at his reaction, and his face fell back into the slightly insulting grin from earlier.

“And won’t you please just tell me who you are!”

“My name is Renfrac,” he said, seemingly calm now that he’d had his fun.

But now it was Trahearne’s turn to be angry. “If you say that Mordremoth claims all sylvari that come near the jungle, how come you have a message from my Commander, who you claim is in the jungle?”

Renfrac raised an eyebrow. “You did pay attention!” he praised.

“Either you are a jokester with a horrible sense of timing, or you’re already corrupted yourself,” Trahearne said, voice low, “either way, I think it’s time we end this.” And he followed it up with a shout, “Wardens!”

Renfrac’s eyes were suddenly wide, and he dropped the cheerful smile. He raised a hand towards Trahearne, and opened his mouth to say something, but the Marshal had raised his staff again, intending to keep him immobile and harmless until the Wardens arrived, already hearing commotion on the hallway outside his Grove office.

Something in the other’s face hardened, and he was suddenly directly in front of Trahearne, too close to attack with the staff. He barely had time to recover, before he was roughly grabbed by the back of the head and his forehead was colliding with-

The jungle, tall and dark and spine-shiveringly wrong

Tendrils in the earth, slithering and alive but dead, preying on the soldiers crawling over the many skins of their master

The silhouette of someone who might’ve been Nightmare Court, except not even they corrupt a body so heavily, distort it so much as to

Fire-warm metal chunks, half-buried in the loose, upturned soil, stinking of blood, surrounded by corpses, survivors, medics, a camp built on the wreckage

My friend, my other self, my- attacker, possessed by the jungle itself, trying to eradicate me, hints of power, of corruption, testing my defences, overwhelming the lessers, but I caught it, and I fought it off from him

Fangs and snarling and the Commander and a missive don’t come to the jungle don’t enter the domain of the Dragon don’t risk it just help me help me please doubt/worry/regret/guilt

He is bodily pushed backwards, and takes a minute to remember that he is Trahearne, and he’s in the Grove, and not currently in danger from anyone except a madman with some daggers, a gun, and the ability to project a vision immediately into his head.

“What?” Trahearne said, eloquently.

A knock sounded from the door. “Marshal, are you alright?” someone asked through the door, and he vaguely recognized the voice of the captain of the small personal Pact squad that was assigned to him. Cigna, he believed she was called.

Renfrac’s eyes bored into his, not moving away, not betraying any emotions. Trahearne took a step back instead, still bewildered.

The vision had been bleeding searing intensity and sincerity. He had difficulty reconciling it with the sylvari before him.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you, just a- a nightmare,” he said, raising his voice a little to penetrate the door. He wasn’t known for sleeping at regular times, or for experiencing particularly calming dreams.

“Okay,” she called back, sounding tired, “the airship’s due to leave soon, Marshal, let us know if you need help packing,” and then the metal-clank of Vigil armour faded into the distance.

Renfrac still hadn’t moved, posture or expression.

After another few moments, to be sure Cigna was no longer in earshot, Trahearne spoke up again.

“What in the name of the Pale Tree was that?”

“That’s the current state of the Maguuma Jungle, and the remains of the Pact that are in it,” Renfrac replied, visibly on edge.

Trahearne sighed. Sure, okay, they weren’t going to talk about what that was, then. He did not think interrogating this sylvari was going to yield anything but frustration.

“Fine. So, if I understood… that… correctly, I should not go to the Jungle?”

Renfrac’s stance lost some tension, but not all. “You would likely doom the world.”

“And your friend lives in this world,” Trahearne smiled. Renfrac’s worry and affection had stained the entire vision.

To his amusement, the other blushed violet for a moment, but did not look away. “He does,” he agreed.

Then the implications of the situation started sinking in. Trahearne grimaced and turned around to start pacing the small office.

“I will be unable to command directly; that’s going to be difficult,” he thought out loud.

“Just different from the war on Zhaitan,” Renfrac said. His posture had relaxed completely, and he had moved back to slouch against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve made a deal with your Commander, to act as messenger. I have a raptor, and I can defend myself against Mordremoth’s mental attacks.”

“All of these things would have been great to lead with, you know,” Trahearne grumbled, but this time, Renfrac just laughed. “Down to business then, I guess.”

He sat down at his desk. When he looked up, the other was still by the door, not showing a sign of intending to move.

Trahearne cleared his throat. “Did you have an actual report from the Commander as well, or did you just come to warn me to stay away?”

“Oh!” Renfrac said, jolting away from the frame, shrugging off his rifle to access a pocket on his belt, and producing a slightly-crumpled envelope from a pouch. He walked up to the desk and handed it over. It still had bits of moss on it.

“Uh, thank you,” Trahearne said, somewhat awkwardly. “I need to read this, perhaps unpack some documents to be able to write a reply - I’d nearly boarded the airship, you were lucky I still had one document to find - and then I’ll send captain Cigna to find you when I’m done, if you’d like to, uh, go and enjoy the Grove?”

Please leave me alone for a moment, I still need to process whatever that vision was and if possible find three books about similar phenomena, Trahearne didn’t say. But Renfrac just cringed a little, and said, “I’ve never felt particularly at home here, if I’m honest, so I’d rather just, if you perhaps have a book I could-”

And by the Pale Tree, if that didn’t hit right home. “Sure,” Trahearne said, pointing at a bookshelf to Renfrac’s right. “Those should be fairly digestible human history books.”

“Human history?” Renfrac made a sound of disgust at the book he’d just picked from the shelf, but didn’t drop it or put it back.

“Necessary for diplomacy,” Trahearne smiled. He was reminded of when he was still starting out in this. He had learned to enjoy the various topics related to his current occupation since, but he could still vividly remember the first months, when struggling through even one desiccated tome felt like a victory. It wouldn’t do for even a messenger to insult allies unknowingly.

Renfrac sent him a long-suffering glare, but sank to the floor with the book in his hands, crossing his legs and leaning back against the wall. He doesn’t seem to enjoy the concept of chairs, Trahearne noted, before looking down to his own task, breaking the seal on the envelope, pulling out the letter, and reading the worst news he’d received in a good while.

#havoc writing #renfrac #trahearne #guild wars 2 #What's A Diplomacy #renfrac never asked anyone #i have already yelled at various people about this one while writing the first/second drafts #but if you have notes or observations or questions do poke me as well #unreliable narrator my beloved #the only time renfrac will admit to Emotions about Scothin is when he isn't narrating

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ophelia-jones · 1 year

Text

(graphic sexual content 18+)

Haven - ch 12 - fly the coop

9 months later

Spring was returning to Haven. The daffodils and crocuses were blooming and the trees were lacy with new growth. The birds were making a racket as they buzzed about and fought for territory or mating rites. They weren't so different from us, Etta thought from her position at the gate. She looked up at the third floor of Haven, her own nest.

The damage to the two lower floors had been extensive and it had taken months for them to fully secure it and insulate it again. Luckily Negan had it ready by winter. Most of the hens were gone now, but half a dozen remained and they all continued to lay eggs. There were so few people left now that the difference in egg production was hardly noticeable. Etta turned away from Haven, battered and worn as it was, and scanned the forest and fields for signs of threats.

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

Negan was resting comfortably in a queen-sized bed with a good mattress and clean sheets. He had no right to long for anything more, but when he rolled over and reached out to touch the cold sheets on the opposite side of the bed he felt a pang of disappointment.

"I'm here," Verity told him from the doorway. "I wouldn't miss the fringe benefits of waking up with you." she teased, slipping into bed and reaching down to grasp him in one hand - Negan never failed to wake up hard as a rock. He smiled broadly at Verity and reached for her rocking his hips against her grasp. He sighed as his mouth found hers, and he lingered in their kiss. There was no rush; their lovemaking was something to be drawn out and enjoyed on mornings like these. Mornings when the others were busy on watch or feeding the children.

It was their morning, and neither would take it for granted.

Verity would never walk without a limp, but Negan had held so tightly to her and provided such determined care that she otherwise suffered no long-term effects from her wound. At least, not the physical wound. But he was working on healing her heart as well.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her throat as he kissed it.

"I went to get something," she told him moaning slightly as he bit down against her pulse. "for your anniversary."

"My what?" he asked, leaning up on his elbow and looking down at her, kneading her breast gently with the other hand, flicking her nipple into a tight peak with the tip of one calloused finger.

"It was around this time last year that a tall, dark - scruffy - stranger came moseying on up to Haven," she said, leaning into his touch.

"And you shot at him," Negan replied with a smile, biting his tongue at her. "Are you glad you missed?" he teased, leaning down to catch the nipple between his teeth.

"I didn't miss," Verity protested, gasping at the pinch of his teeth and burying her hands in his hair. He hummed and took more of her breast in his mouth, his tongue soothing the sting of his bite.

She collected herself and pushed Negan over onto his back and straddled his stomach. She could feel his erection against her backside, but she was taking her time today.

She smiled at him and dangled handcuffs - the ones she had put him in that first day - from one finger. He lifted his eyebrows at her, chuckling in surprise.

"Is it my turn to put them on you?" he asked, both hands reaching up to squeeze and caress both of her breasts now. Verity shook her head slowly, slid the cuffs on one of his wrists, and then guided both of Negan's hands up, securing the chain behind the bar of the brass headboard, and closing the cuffs around his other wrist to secure him there with his hands above his head.

"I think you're forgetting who's in charge here." Verity smiled as she cuffed him. He laughed lightly and grinned up at her.

"Yes, Ma'am! Sorry, Ma'am." he teased, looking up at her with greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he watched her let down her thick brown hair. It was halfway to her waist, now. He squirmed and longed to bury his face and hands in it.

"That's more like it." she purred, pressing her breasts against the bare skin of his chest, nipping at one earlobe. He turned his head for a kiss but Verity lifted herself back up and winked at him.

"It's my turn to lead for once," she whispered throatily. "just lay back and … let me have my fun." she trailed her hair over his face, down his bare chest, - just a soft tickle, the hint of touch - and over his stiffened cock which twitched eagerly. He bucked his hips, his head pressing back into the mattress as he moaned as if he were being tortured. She continued down the length of his sinewy legs until she stood at the foot of the bed.

"You," he growled, wriggling in frustration, "are having too. much. fun."

"Sit still or I'll tie your ankles down, too." she teased. Negan bit his lower lip in both amusement and frustration.

From under the bed, Verity produced a small container filled with a viscous white substance.

"Should I be scared?" Negan asked, eyeing the container nervously. Verity laughed gaily.

'Don't you trust me?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at him, her face half concealed under a curtain of messy brown hair. Negan groaned a bit in frustration, he wasn't used to not being the one in control.

Verity slathered one hand with the slightly gooey substance, then slid up along the length of his body close enough for the heat from her body to radiate into his skin but never touching.

"Trust me?" she asked seductively, her face inches from his.

"With my life, but sugar tits, what exactly are you thinking of doing with that stuff?" he asked, his eyes on her greasy hand. She grinned and ran a finger over his lower lip before leaning down to kiss him hungrily - their mouths flooding with the taste of coconut. Their tongues, lips, and breath danced. They were both soon breathless and Verity broke her kiss to apply a trail of the sweet coconut oil lube she'd made from his belly button, down to the base of his eager cock which was begging for her attention. She kept her eyes locked on Negans as she traced the trail with her tongue. He was grinding his teeth with the effort it took to remain still. When she grasped the length of him and began to coat him in the sweet lube he let his head fall back and thrust his hips against her grip.

"Oh. MY. GOD!" he declared, his voice thundering, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. He didn't give a damn. "Jesus Christ, Verity, take the cuffs off!" he demanded as she stroked him slowly. Too slowly.

"You're not the boss of me." she teased, bending to run her tongue along the length of his shaft and then taking him into her mouth and humming gently. Megan hissed and groaned, straining to control his tightening balls. She straddled him now and guided just the tip into her, so he could feel her heat, feel how wet teasing him was making her. She held this position for as long as she could before he let out a long string of profanity and struggled against his restraints.

"Say please," she purred.

"Fucking PLEASE already, oh fuck I need to be inside of you," he declared, biting his lower lip and panting with need.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she joked a split second before settling on the length of him, burying every last inch of him in her and crying out when the tip pressed against her cervix, his width spreading her, filling her so suddenly and completely she nearly came already.

"Take the cuffs off, Verity, Take the god-damned mother fucking cuffs off PLEASE!" Negan demanded desperately, his voice so low it was almost a growl. Verity was so overcome by the pleasure of him filling her so completely, she could only nod her agreement and reach for the cuffs.

Her fingers fumbled anxiously with the keys. The moment the first cuff was unlocked and Negan had one wrist free he was moving. He didn't give a damn that the cuffs were still dangling from his left wrist, all that mattered was that he was free. He flipped Verity over onto her back and pinned her down, her legs over his shoulders so she was practically bent in half. He buried his hands in her hair, one hand cupping her cheek and the other coming to rest on her throat.

He drove into her mercilessly, like a wild animal - feral with need. She couldn't help but cry out at the intensity of the pleasure and pain he brought - she felt as if he might just split her in half, but it would be worth it because she'd never come as hard as she did then.

"Oh, shit, darling - Jesus you get tight as fuck when you come." he groaned. "I'm going to need you to do that again.' he said eagerly. Verity relaxed, coming down slightly from her climax. He slowed slightly, lowering the hand that had been on her throat to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

"Say my name this time," he ordered her breathlessly. She could feel it coming again already and thrashed her head from side to side at the intensity of it.

"Whose girl are you?' he demanded, grunting now as he struggled to keep up the pace without driving himself over the edge.

"Negan! Oh God, Negan - I'm yours, I'm yours, don't stop don't stop don't stoooaaaaaah!" her screams of pleasure combined with the tightening waves of her orgasm around him made Negan come, he buried himself and ground his hips down and spilled until he lost vision and his arms and legs trembled. He rolled away from her onto his back, gasping for air, the room spinning around him, and began to chuckle.

"FUCK!" he declared, laughing as he turned to look into her eyes.

"Fuck." she agreed with a grin.

"I fucking love you," he told her softly, reaching one hand into her hair and cradling her head as he leaned in to kiss her slowly.

"I love fucking you." She agreed with a playful smile between long, slow, lingering kisses.

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

Shondra was in her apartment with the children, finishing breakfast. The first time she heard her next-door neighbors, she'd been bemused, but people didn't find that kind of happiness often these days and who was she to begrudge their way of enjoying their love?

But today, as the sounds from the bed and those in it began to grow louder and faster she was eager to usher the children elsewhere before they started asking questions she wasn't ready to answer.

"Ok, guys, let's go outside and play for a while!" she declared, tossing the unwashed dishes in the sink or leaving them where they lie for the sake of speed. She made sure they were warmly dressed and pushed them out the door.

"Hey, Shondra! A little chilly for the kids this morning. Didn't expect to see you all out so early." Etta greeted them with a smile and a nod.

"It's uh, it's Verity and Negans morning off," Shondra explained with a little playful grimace. Etta chuckled.

"I'm glad they're still going strong - even if it means I'm on my own again. He, uh, he used to slip and call me her name when we were… you know. So, it's not like I ever thought it was anything more than a little fun." she sighed.

"Do you think we stand a chance at ever finding anything as they have?"

Shondra smiled at her friend with the raven hair and dark eyes. She shrugged.

"The only thing I know for sure is you never know what life might drop in your lap next," she replied.

"That is the truth." Etta agreed. "Do you hear that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head slightly. Shondra listened too.

"I don't hear anything," Shondra replied with a shrug, hurrying to pick Vida up off the concrete when she stumbled while chasing Olivia. "If you're going to play tag at least let her win once in a while so she doesn't hurt herself trying!" she scolded the older kids.

A little while later, Verity and Negan joined them in the courtyard. Verity used a walking stick, still, just in case she stumbled due to her limp but she was stronger and more able by the day. Negan was all smiles as he scooped Vida up and tossed her in the air as she squealed.

"Negan, can we play catch now?" Stanley asked, retrieving the ball and glove Negan had found for him this past winter.

"I was just about to suggest that very fucking thing," Negan told the boy, sitting Vida down and patting her gently on the head.

"What is that?" Verity asked, squinting into the distance through the slit in the fence.

"I knew I heard something!" Etta declared. "It sounds like an engine, and it is getting closer. It purrs almost like a Harley," she replied, gazing out to the road now from her position atop the car roof so she could look out beyond the parking lot.

Negan was busy playing catch with Stanley for several minutes before he heard the rumble of the approaching motorcycle. When he did, he climbed up next to Etta, and even without the binoculars, he knew exactly who was approaching.

"Holy shitballs. No fuckin' way," he said, his mouth hanging open for a minute before he regained his senses. They were too close for him to run for cover in the building, so he squeezed in between the fence and an old car.

"What's wrong? Should we be ready for a fight?" Verity asked, concerned.

"Only if they find out my ass is here, then they will burn this fucking place down and the hick driving that thing will have my balls for breakfast," Negan replied nervously, his eyes darting side to side, hoping to find the best possible place to remain out of sight. "Just… be polite but whatever the fuck you do, don't let them in."

The women all exchanged looks to verify everyone was on the same page. Jessie had even come out to see about the noise by now. Verity looked around, then looked up to see Harper and Amari on the roof, looking down with curiosity at the sight of strange men approaching.

"Be ready just in case, but wait for my signal. We suspect we can do this the easy way." Verity spoke to them through the handheld radio.

"We're ready for whatever you need," Amari informed her stoically.

These were all the people in the world she loved. They were everything she had left. Her heart was full of so many emotions, she couldn't accurately name them all.

The motorcycle came to rest thirty feet or so feet from the gate. The engine faded as it was turned off, and Verity could hear two sets of footsteps approaching, crunching along the gravel and debris as they slowly approached the gate.

"Hello! We mean no harm." a man drawled, holding his hands up as he approached, addressing Etta where she stood, tall above the top of the gate with her rifle at the ready.

"We're looking for someone, is all. We just wanted to ask if you might have seen him," Etta continued to stare in silence. She had perfected the stony stare of the 'Indians' stereotype in 1960's Western movies and TV shows.

"I'm Rick, Rick Grimes. This is Daryl." the man introduced them, his eyes locked on Etta's. She spread her gaze equally between the man in the worn deputies uniform and the man in the leather vest and grimy jeans. She arched an eyebrow at the sight of his massive shoulders and arms. Her heart picked up its pace a bit when Daryl cast a glance her way and grunted slightly in greeting.

"Ettawagszhing Wabizii," Etta said.

"The hell?" Daryl asked, his mouth slightly open as he squinted up at her.

"My name. Ettawagszhing Wabizii is my name," she told him, her face unreadable. She watched Daryl as he studied her with interest. "it's Ojibwe, it means both sides of the sky." she added, then smiled at the men. Her smile changed her appearance dramatically, it was like a sunrise after a long dark night. "Or you can call me Etta Swan."

"That's real pretty, Etta. And thanks for taking it easy on us. I'd hate to make a mess of your name." Rick told her with a nervous smile. Daryl just continued to squint at her.

"If you're not looking for trouble, what are you looking for here?" Etta asked, her eyes falling on Daryl more than Rick now.

"A man. A bad man." Rick replied, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops as he looked around, his dark curls brushing the nape of his neck. He looked back up at Etta, his head to one side.

"Tall, skinny sumbitch." Daryl added, his voice almost too low for the human ear to perceive. But Etta sure did feel it in her belly. "Calls himself Negan," he added.

Etta frowned and shook her head slowly from side to side. Before Verity could catch her, Olivia (now six years old) scrambled up beside Etta.

"We don't let no bad guys in here!" she declared proudly. "When some got in last time, my dad killed 'em!" she announced, her hands on her hips. Rick smiled brightly at the girl.

"Well, that's good. That's what a dad should do, protect their family." Rick told her sweetly. "Is he here? Your dad?" he asked, and Olivia's eyes darted down at Negan and Verity.

"He's in bed. He gets to sleep in on Sundays." she lied. Negan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the fence. His head was spinning, fear and love battling for control. Olivia calling him her dad had nearly brought tears to his eyes. Please, he thought, please just a little longer here. A little longer with my family.

"Well, who is in charge around here?" Rick asked, and Etta started to reply but Olivia was too quick.

"My mom," she told him, glancing down at Verity.

"Is she right there? Can we talk to your mom?" Rick pressed on despite the frown darkening Etta's face now. Verity nodded up at Olivia and smiled her permission. Olivia beamed, feeling as if she had done something good for her family.

"Come on down, now, sweetheart. Shondra, will you take the kids inside please?" Verity requested. Once the kids were inside, Verity radioed up to her girls on the rooftop.

"I'm going out. If they try to come in or attack in any way, I want you to start shooting. Understood?"

"Loud and clear." came the response.

"Etta, open the gate," Verity said with a nod at her younger friend. Etta frowned in concern and glanced over Verity's shoulder at Negan.

"I am in charge here, Etta - when I say open the gate, I mean now," she told her firmly. She didn't see Negan give Etta the nod of acquiescence behind her but she still knew he had. Etta opened the gate just enough for Verity to exit, then closed it again behind her.

"Gentlemen." Verity greeted them curtly. Rick leaned forward and offered her a handshake. She only paused slightly at the gesture before accepting it. She had to admit, perhaps it was his uniform, but she felt a camaraderie from the man.

"Ma'am." Rick greeted her. Daryl grunted, eyed her up and down once, and then returned to squinting at Etta.

"Officer Salvatore, Deputy Grimes. Detroit PD," she told him, and Rick nodded, smiling with a sincere interest. She had cop written all over her.

"Detroit? Tough department. How'd you wind up down here?" he asked, respect in his eyes.

"Same as you, I suppose. Life just sort of… pushes us along where it wants us to be," she replied dryly. "I heard what you were asking Etta, about some man called Nolan?"

"Negan," Rick corrected her, "that's right. He's a very dangerous man."

"Sumbitch has a lot to answer for," Daryl grumbled, moving back to lean against his motorcycle and cross his arms. Behind her, Verity hoped Etta didn't swoon and fall head-first over the fence.

"Well, I've never heard the name Negan before. Does this guy have a last name?" Verity asked Rick.

"Well, he just goes by Negan," he replied, head down, eyes on the ground.

"Like … Prince? Or Oprah?" Verity quipped, and Rick chuckled and nodded his head.

"Guys got an ego ten miles wide. He's a legend in his own mind." Rick responded, looking up at Verity with his head still tilted downwards, his smile shy and sweet enough to charm the pants off a nun.

"Well, I guess he's not all wrong if you're traveling around looking for him," she said, glancing up at the clouds. "But we don't make a habit of letting strange men into our home, Deputy Grimes. So, I can't help you out." Rick nodded, head hung low once more.

"Well, I appreciate your time and your trust, coming out to talk with us. Remember, if you do come across him - he isn't somebody you should trust," he told her before spinning on his boot heel and returning to the motorcycle. Etta scrambled down from her perch and squeezed through the gate.

Verity turned and scowled at her.

"I needed a closer look," Etta told her, peeking past Verity at the men. "Aw Mom, can't we keep one?" she sighed. Verity rolled her eyes but turned back and called out to the men.

"You wouldn't happen to know where we could get our hands on a rooster, would you?" she called to them. Rick looked at Daryl, who shuffled his feet a little and nodded.

"Hilltop has three, and they're gonna be hatching chicks soon." He informed them.

"We can make a good trade for it," Verity said. "We have an extra UTV we'd be willing to give up."

"That's one hell of a trade, you sure about that?" Rick asked, raising his eyebrows. Verity nodded,

"Can't eat a machine. Can't make chicks with one, either," she replied.

Rick looked at Daryl for his opinion.

"You want to go back? We haven't found Negan yet." Daryl said, leaning in close to Rick's ear.

"Yeah, I want to go back. We've been at this for too long, and haven't found a thing. He could have doubled back to Alexandria. I want to be there, with Judith; with Michonne. If he shows up, we all need to be ready." Rick told his friend firmly. Daryl pursed his lips and let a huff of dissatisfaction out of his nose, then turned and got on his bike.

"You should know it's at least half a days trip back to Alexandria, and another 20 miles to the hilltop after that," he warned her.

"I'll drive the UTV there," Etta volunteered. "I can find my way back," she assured Verity.

"Carrying a Rooster?" Verity objected.

"We'll see she gets back safely," Rick assured her.

The women slipped back inside the gate.

"I don't like this," Verity told Etta nervously.

"If Rick promises to see to her safety, he'll follow through," Negan told her with a sigh. Etta clapped her hands, hugged each of them, and hurried to get a bag and one of the UTVs.

"Why do I have the feeling that rooster isn't the only cock she's after?" Negan whispered, looking at Verity out of the very corner of his eye. She smirked and held back a laugh - barely.

Before long they were on their way, Rick opting to ride with Etta rather than on the back of the motorcycle clinging to Daryl any longer. They waited until they could no longer hear the engines, then waited a little longer to be sure. Then Verity and Negan slipped back inside, safe and sound in their Haven, with their family.

"What say we go back to bed for a while," Negan whispered in her ear with a devilish smile on his lips.

The End

(For Negan and Verity, at least. Next will be the follow-up, 'Swan Song' the tale of Etta Swan's adventure to Hilltop)

Complete story:

#original female character #the walking dead fanfiction #negan smith #negan #negan fanfiction #twd negan #negan smut

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books-of-the-great-leviathan · 1 year

Text

Chapter 17- Luca

***

Sunset arrived like an armada in full splendor, a clash of scarlet and flame made brilliant by the volcano's smoky haze. The tide rose, washing clean the wrecks of An Gholam's bay, booming in their hollow hulls. Luca watched the sun sink below the horizon, spilling shadow as it went.

Across the darkening sea came ships.

Dozens, hundreds, until the bay of An Gholam became a sea of running lights and signal lanterns, shouts carried on the wind like birds, the water groaning under the weight of countless hulls. Luca had never seen such variety since Valeris's bay at the swollen height of summer, traders coming from all across the Inner Sea. Square sails, and triangular, and pleated like a fan. Twin-hulled ships slung low over the water's surface, skimming the waves like a landing seabird. Crews dressed in lightlock armor, made to float, or wearing strange leather masks, or painted jet-black and silently slinging ropes as they guided in their vessel. Massive ships, four-decked and carved with menageries of legendary beasts. Sea-orks in duskwood snarled from bows, sails of midnight blue and rust-red reflecting the sunset so they seemed to glow in the gathering darkness. Small vessels, sleek-sided and quick, pointed sails and rigging fluttering with countless pennants.

"See those?" Matteo said, pointing the vessel out as it sailed by. "Each one taken from a ship after her captain's slaughtered the whole crew."

Luca was only half-listening. A dinghy had been lowered over the side. In it crouched a cloaked figure, shimmering with shadow. Luca had asked Nadya on the matter, and the third officer had told him Sirin was taking a few supplies, a pistol or two, and booking passage on a supply ship leaving An Gholam that night. She'd be gone by the dawn, vanished into the Inner Sea. Where she was going only wind and ghosts could say.

He'd been too much of a coward to go to her, to catch the dinghy's rope before it was too late, to say a proper goodbye. She deserved more than their last argument. She deserved more than that by far.

Maybe this was what she'd always wanted. She had her freedom. No chains, no debts. She certainly didn't owe him anything. She'd saved his life, after all. She'd thrown her shadows and caught him before he could sink beyond reaching. She'd twined her darkness into him, had brought him back into the light.

Her hands, gripping his.

Her eyes, bright with the Leviathan's light.

Luca shook his head and turned away. When he looked again, the dinghy was gone, and Sirin was gone with it.

Puppy gave a soft whine. Luca looked down at it, and it gazed up at him, eyes round.

He scratched its chin. "I know," he murmured.

The ships gathered around the Fishcutter, their numbers becoming denser, ropes thrown from vessel to vessel and pulling taut, so that by the time the moons rose the bay was an island of ship decks and sails, masts thick as a forest, flags snapping at moorings and filling the sky with the billow and creak of canvas. Seabirds descended in flocks, carnivorous and clamoring, nesting on riggings by the hundreds. The smell of cookfires rolled in on the wind, roasting meat and fruit sap and the tang of rum. Songs, and howls, and music, too, the twangs and melodies of strange instruments battling for supremacy.

He heard gunshots, too, but neither Captain Irene nor Atana seemed concerned.

"There are always scuffles when the pirates of An Gholam gather," Atana said, standing by Luca at the Fishcutter's bow. "They're resolved amongst themselves."

"How many are there?" Luca could barely see the ruins of An Gholam through the thicket of masts.

"Too many ships to count," Atana told him. She turned, her eyes settling on an approaching ship. "Oh! Look!"

Avenues had been left between the vessels, broad pathways of water wide enough to allow two ships to sail abreast. This one took the entire avenue, a floating fortress, its triple masts jutting almost twice the height of the Fishcutter's. Its hull was black and crimson, glossy as lacquer, crusted in ornate patterns rendered in gilt. Its sails were red, too, each one webbed like a fin. Three levels of cannons glistened along its flanks, mouths shaped like snarling jaws, and its crew wore crimson sashes and waistcoats bright as its sails. Instead of a figurehead, a massive sea-ork's head rendered in gold jutted from the ship's prow, maw open wide as if to swallow down whatever crossed its path.

The magnificent ship cruised closer, swinging alongside the Fishcutter. Luca made out the massive man standing at its bow, one hand on the hilt of his blunderbuss.

"Lord Sabat!" Atana called. "It's good to see you again."

"Atana." Lord Sabat's voice boomed like a cannon. His red greatcoat was as gilded as his ship's hull, and on him, it was magnificent. His skin was so dark it shone blue, his oiled muttonchops curling in abundance from the sides of his square, brutal face. Silver rings glittered on his hands, and each fingernail was silver, too, not paint but steel, the metal pushed through some bizarre alchemy into his living flesh.

The gangplank was lowered between ships, and Sabat crossed, trailed by two of his crew, watching the crew of the Fishcutter like a pair of pit-hounds.

Lord Sabat approached Atana and bowed, sweeping off his enormous tricorn before sinking to one knee. "You've grown tall."

"You inspired me, Sabat. It's good to see you well."

"And you." He took her small hand. "I am sorry to hear about your father."

Atana nodded, looking down. Sabat rose, slowly, and faced Luca. "Is this the man who saw the Leviathan die?"

"Luca Valere," Atana said. "Prince of Lapide."

Sabat approached, his step quiet for such a big man. He prowled around Luca. "Never much liked Lapidaeans," he said.

"Never much liked pirates," Luca said, with a shrug.

Lord Sabat stared down at him, then barked a laugh. "You've a funny one, Atana."

"Not as funny as you think you are, Sabat," said a cold, hoarse voice.

Luca looked; so did Atana and Sabat. A second crew waited on the starboard deck. Luca hadn't heard footsteps, hadn't heard the approach of a second ship. It drifted alongside the Fishcutter: a battered schooner, its sails faded gray canvas, its hull much-mended.

Sabat drew back. So did Irene and Matteo, glancing at one another, Matteo's fingertips dancing over his pistol grip. The trio of newcomers was led by a white-haired old woman leaning on a cane, small and hunched and dressed in ragged shawls. Her crew wore light armor made of fish-skins, glimmering in the smoky haze.

"May I present," Matteo whispered to Luca, "The Eel Queen."

"Welcome," Atana said. She and the Eel Queen exchanged nods, and spoke quietly for a moment before the Queen turned her eyes on Luca. They were pale green, like the glow of some deep-sea fish, and they rested on Luca and Puppy for a long time before she spoke.

"I can see why we've gathered," the Eel Queen said. "This is...rare."

"Rare," scoffed Sabat. "Heretical, more like. Look at the creature." He advanced on Luca, reaching for a heavy hatchet at his belt. "I say we strike off its head and spill whaleblood into the sea. Free the Leviathan from the shackles of-"

"Touch Puppy and it's the last thing you'll ever do," Luca said.

"No one's striking off anyone's head," Atana commanded, her voice ringing over Sabat's. "Not yet."

Luca swallowed, his mouth at once dry. Niive approached from behind him, standing at his left side. Wind swelled at her approach, and Luca felt a charged crackle pass over his skin. Cereza stepped forward to his right, slipping his hand into hers.

"Stand down, Lord Sabat," Atana went on. "We're not yet gathered."

"Then hurry." Sabat eyed Niive, then turned on one heel. "I didn't come here for polite conversation."

He strode away, back over the gangplank. The Eel Queen retreated too, crossing back to her battered little ship without another word.

"They're afraid," Cereza said. "All of them."

"They're right to be. I don't think there's a soul alive who's stood in our circumstances. Sirin," Luca said. "Do you suppose-"

He cut off. Cereza's hand tightened around his. No one answered. Because Sirin wasn't there. Sirin was gone.

Luca let out his breath. Wherever she was going, he only hoped she'd be at peace. That was all he could give her now.

The pirate lords assembled one by one, ships circling the Fishcutter like sharks around a dying sea-ork. Sabat's, and the Eel Queen's, and two more besides. The next to come was a triangular-sailed caravel, elegant and maneuverable, its hull daubed deep cobalt. A pair of flat painted eyes stared from either side of its bow, and its crew were blue-skinned Isozi, each warrior woman competing with Lord Sabat in height. Its captain wore a headscarf round her long white braids, her bare arms rippling with muscle and pale blue scars.

"Noor," Atana greeted, and they held hands, Noor bending down to press her forehead to Atana's.

The last to arrive was a black Buyani icerunner, its hull reinforced with a spellforged steel plow for cleaving through sea-ice. Its sails billowed, each one vivid orange-gold; its flag carried the device of a roaring blue and red flame. Its captain, when she vaulted easily onto the Fishcutter's deck, was a young woman, a sheet of red hair swinging down her back. She wore an enormous hat with a red feather, her pointed face set in a grin. She approached without invitation, looking Luca over with a flick of her eyes.

"Well," she said, her Buyani accent thick and rolling. "At least he's handsome."

"You look a little young to be a pirate lord," Luca said.

"Looks can be deceiving. Who knows. I could be hundreds of years old and simply be wearing a youthful skin. Some witchborn have such gifts, after all."

"You're witchborn?" Niive said, doubt dripping from her voice.

The Buyani woman raised her hand and clenched her fist. Flame erupted from her skin: a crackling sphere of pulsing fire, blue at its core, flickering red where it licked at the night air. She opened her hand and the fire extinguished itself. Luca still felt its heat radiating from her.

"Careful," she said, with another flick of her eyes. "Don't get too close."

"Captain Anoshka Safi," muttered Matteo, as Anoshka sauntered away. "Really. Don't get too close. I've seen her cut a man's fingers off and feed them to her hounds."

"Sounds like just your type, Luca," Cereza said sweetly. Luca elbowed her in the side.

"My Lords," Atana called. "Let's get this started."

The pirates gathered on the deck. A table had been dragged from Irene's stateroom, scarred and battered. The lords assembled around it, sinking into carved wood chairs set with shell, armrests wrought in the shapes of reclining sarkyvors.

Sabat and Anoshka exchanged whispers; the Eel Queen sat on her own, pale, veined hands pressed to the wood. Noor leaned back in her chair, her chin lifted, her blue eyes set on Luca. Irene picked at her nails with a flensing knife.

Luca held Puppy. The little creature sat silent on his knees, paws on the table, eyes shining in the lamplight. The lords surveyed them like they were antiquities on display in the Royal Library of Valeris Palace.

"May we see the creature?" the Eel Queen asked at last.

Luca stood, lifting Puppy onto the table. It gave a small whine; he stroked its back as the pirates leaned forward to get a better look.

"Sweet little thing," the Eel Queen crooned. "Look how its fur shines."

"You can't say you believe this is some part of the Great Leviathan," Sabat growled. He waved a hand through the air. "Some exotic beast, perhaps. Some creature culled from an unknown island, brought here like a taxidermy chimaera to fool us pagan believers. Not the Leviathan."

"What's your story, Valere?" Anoshka asked, leaning back in her chair. "Surely a man as pretty as you with a nose as broken as yours must have a good one."

"How's this for a good story?" Luca said. "I was there when the Leviathan died. I watched it burn, heard its death-song. I was thrown overboard, and when I was, I spoke with it."

Murmurs broke from the assembled, from the crews watching at the surrounding ships.

"And what words did you pass with our god?" asked Noor, her eyes bright.

"I told it I was sorry. That I would carry it. Make this right." Luca's jaw clenched. "I might not have been the one to fire on it, but I'd brought its killers to its seas. I enabled the Witchhunters to find it, just like I enabled them to find An Gholam and burn it down."

"We have a tale where I come from," Sabat said. "A tale of the Korag Magra. The Ork Mother." He gestured to his own figurehead, the snarling golden sea-ork. "She is a goddess so dark no insect dares to gnaw her bones, no maggot brave enough to tunnel her flesh. The seas themselves conspire to hide her, the sun to steal the light from her presence and conceal her from sight. Only at the world's end, when all grows too dire for other options, does she return, coming to us in our hour of greatest need."

He set his eyes on Luca, gaze heavy as a blow. "I know prophets, Valere, and you are nothing close. How do we know you're not lying, too?"

"My sister, Princess Cereza, and our witch companion can attest to that," Luca said. Cereza nodded, and after a pause, so did Niive.

"He's not lying," she said.

"No," Atana said. "He's not. We found them in the middle of the Great Blue, clinging to a wreck, with this creature in their company. Would you care to suggest I'm lying, too, Lord Sabat?"

Sabat looked away. Irene stuck the knife deep into the tabletop.

"Seems the damage," she said, "has been right well done, don't you fine folks think? The Great Leviathan as we know it is gone, and we've all seen what damage that did. Our friends and comrades missing, the seas thick with dying fish. This plague of crystal."

"When the Leviathan is gone, all things suffer," the Eel Queen said. She curled her knotted old hands over her walking-stick, her long black nails biting deep into the bone handle. "The Leviathan is the world. The world is the Leviathan. The deep currents of the universe are as the godsblood that veins through its flesh. Its absence skews the turn of the firmament, the rise and fall of the tides, the pulse of life and death within us all."

Luca's hands tightened in Puppy's fur. "I'm sorry," he said, but his voice was crushed small.

"We don't want your apologies," Irene said. "We want a solution. I worshipped the whale just like you all did. I jammed its crystal into my own eye socket."

She tapped her whaleglass eye with one fingernail. "I felt it go, just as we all felt it. Heard its song in my dreams, just as we all did. Felt it die."

"It's not dead," Luca said.

"What?"

"It's not dead." He stood, lifting his voice. "Irene's right on every point, save one. The Great Leviathan isn't dead. Its body might be gone, but it's more than that, more than a sea monster or an overgrown whale. We all know that much. It's why we're here, isn't it? If it agreed to my bargain, if a part of it is still alive here in this form, then it must know there's a way out."

"Did it share this...way out?" Noor asked, her voice cool as rain.

"No," Luca said. "There wasn't time. I wish..." He trailed off, tracing a gash in the tabletop, then sighed.

"No," he repeated. He straightened his spine. Under his palm he felt the gentle pulse of Puppy's heart, the little creature's warmth leaching into him in turn, giving him strength. "I may have found the beginnings of a solution."

"Have you now?" Anoshka said, her eyes glittering with interest.

"Beneath the rubble of the temple are ruins. Ancient ruins." Luca reached in his waistcoat pocket and brought forth the broken chunk of whaleglass. The silver that bound it was spotted with tarnish, but no amount of centuries could dull the starlit glow of the crystal. "Witch ruins."

"Witches?" the Eel Queen echoed.

Luca nodded, and together he and Cereza explained as best he could what they had seen on the Leviathan's island, in the caverns beneath the temple, mummies and magic, whaleglass forged and broken, ancient wars and ancient bloodshed.

"They weren't what we think, not at the beginning," he went on. "They had power. Magic used in ways I can't comprehend. That knowledge was lost when they fell. I don't know how. I don't know why they lost their power. But I intend to find out, and I intend to use it. And to use your help, if you can give it. Your knowledge, your reach. Please." He ground his knuckles into the tabletop. "I have to make this right."

"We all have to make this right," Cereza said.

"You want our help," Lord Sabat said.

"Yes."

"And what are you prepared to give us in return?"

Luca glanced at Atana, then put on his best smile. "Lapide has vast fortunes-"

"I don't want your Lapidaean gold or your Lapidaean promises," Sabat snarled. He stood, knocking the table back. "None of us do. You see our city, Luca Valere? You hear the ghosts calling to you from the ashes?"

He swept a massive hand toward the ruins of An Gholam, the smoke drifting over the faces of the full moons. "We want justice. We want vengeance. We want blood. And we know you have the blood we're hungry to spill, onboard this very ship."

Luca blinked. "Wait. No-"

"Bring him out," Atana called, her voice icy.

Luca whirled toward her, but before he could speak, the hatch leading belowdecks was thrown wide, and Nadya shoved Azare onto the deck.

Shouts, jeers, howls and curses filled the air, a storm of sound: pirates beating on decks, gunshots, the clang of sword to sword. Sabat snarled, hand clenching his pistol. The Eel Queen drew her lips back from sharp canine teeth, while Anoshka's eyes flashed to flame. Only Noor didn't move, but the hatred in her gaze was enough to wither Luca's resolve.

"Atana," he called, but his voice was lost in the clamor.

He pushed away from the table, toward Atana, but Matteo swung in front of him, stiletto drawn. Luca fell back against Cereza.

Niive advanced, flickers of blue-white lightning crackling through her hair. "Shall I shatter these fragile little ships and send them all to feed the sharks?"

"No," Luca urged.

Niive shot him a look, but the sparks died down.

Nadya shoved Azare, and he stumbled forward, chains rattling from his collar and fetters. Blood streaked his face from a bruising gash over one cheek. Nadya's face was stony as she cracked her knuckles.

Atana rose and approached Azare.

"This is Captain Severin Azare," she announced. "Royal Witchhunter of Estara. The man who murdered my father, Remi Bateleur, and who commanded the spellfire that destroyed An Gholam. Tonight I sentence him to die."

Another wave of shouts and jeers lifted from the other ships. Azare stood straight-backed and rigid, his face betraying nothing.

"Nadya," Atana said. "Draw your pistol."

Anoshka stood. "No," she said, and the sparks glimmering from her fingers brightened to flames. "He burns."

"Luca, he can't," Cereza begged.

"Wait," Luca called. "Triune, Atana-"

"Enough, Luca," she said. "He burns."

Azare closed his eyes. Anoshka advanced. The flames flickered up her arms and neck until her torso was engulfed in a shifting, living wreath of fire. Swords beat swords, and feet pounded a hammer pulse from deck after deck, so hard Luca felt it in the backs of his teeth.

Desperation lit his nerves. He started forward again, but Matteo pressed his stiletto point into Luca's chest.

"One more move, pirate," Niive snarled.

"One more move, witch," Matteo drawled in return.

"Anoshka," Atana cried. "Burn-"

"Stop!"

The clamor fell silent. Waves whispered. Atana whirled, staring at Cereza as she burst from the crowd.

"Do you have something to say?" Atana said. Her eyes were bright with tears.

"Yes," Cereza said. "I do."

She lifted her eyes to the congregation. "I demand a trial by duel."

Atana's mouth dropped open.

"No!" Sabat roared. He shoved the table aside, so hard it skidded; Noor sprang to her feet and stepped smoothly out of its way. "No, no, no-" "How can you know about trial by duel?" Anoshka asked, her fire fading to a shimmering glow over her skin.

Cereza lifted her chin. "I've read all about your laws, despite what all of you might think. Azare, do you accept?"

"Princess, you can't do this," Azare murmured.

"Yes, I can." She pressed her hands to his chest, gripping his shirt. "Listen to me, Azare, you have to accept. If not for me, then for Alois."

A long moment passed between them. At last, Azare nodded. "Then I accept your trial."

Sabat ripped his enormous blunderbuss from his belt one-handed and leveled it at Azare's chest, cocking it with a sharp snap. "One more word, Witchhunter-"

Atana pressed her hand over the gun's muzzle. "Lord Sabat. She's invoked trial by duel. To kill him now would violate our most concrete laws, the laws my pa died to defend. Stand. Down."

"The girl is no pirate-"

"She doesn't need to be a pirate to invoke trial by duel," the Eel Queen rasped. "You know that as well as I do."

"Damn you all," Sabat snarled, but lowered his blunderbuss.

"Who by the Three are you going to have fighting your duel?" Luca said, shoving past Matteo and catching Cereza by the arm. "Either of you?"

Azare didn't look at him. "I am."

In his periphery, the crowd of crewmen and pirates on the Fishcutter's deck parted, as if pushed out of the way. People stumbled, shouting, cursing. Darkness snapped and coiled: a column of shadow, standing just out of the reach of the lanternlight.

Luca couldn't breathe. Cereza grabbed his hand again, her palm slick against his.

The shadow fell like a cresting wave, sweeping away to fade in smoky coils against the Fishcutter's railing. Sirin stood in its place. Her eyes were hard as black glass, their depths flickering with the remnants of her shadows.

The crowd stared, silent, shifting, hands going to weapons. Sirin paid them no mind. She stepped into the moonslight, and the shadows came with her.

She lifted her hands.

No, she said. I am.

#grave of the great leviathan #tales of the great leviathan #fantasy fiction #original fiction #serial novel #chapter 17

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eritvita · 2 years

Note

❛ The queen is not at all pleased about any of this. ❜ (Lennie, running from bees)

@thinnyhopper

He laughs in high nervousness, seeking shelter behind a pillar in the ancient castle’s courtyard. A shattered ball, a cacophony of shrieking persons so high like the sounds of panicked birds, and the angry buzz of a dozen swarming bees ... !

“Perchance shouldst I speak with her,” mentions he, low-voiced, cautious of the sound of his vibrating Throat. He wags a finger. “Canst I do this Thing. Perchance couldst I soothe her, or tender her onto another bauble for quiet nesting somewhere far Gone.”

assassin’s apprentice.

#thinnyhopper #hi!!#notepad.

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bobelblogger · 26 days

Text

The Lost Realm

Clamgams half shells with legs.

Blood Ape Rapetor hybrid Raptor Pack

Breeze 'Bree' Ariss Breath 'Brea' Flamid Pyrod Flamid

Because the idea of this happening while the titular character is present doesn't fit, refer to these stories as the B.J.G timeline, after the creation of the realm before the entry of said protagonist. (remove)

The entry of a comet into the sky heralded woe and misfortune just to start, such an event would prove disaster laden to any area the object impacted upon, moreover it's what was riding in the comet that would cause the most destruction, it drew closer and closer as it crashed tumbling into a foul bog hissing and smoking.

Twin sparks flicker in the pitch darkness gave rise to a swaying form who took breath and burst into flames incinerating the foliage around it as trees bowed blackened as it became aware it was first hungry and second hot for a mate, third inquisitive.

'This thing is strange, it had thoughts and is alive?'

'well that's the supernova calling the sun bright isn't it?'

'Things often don't need reason to act as they may, they just do on instinct or by will.'

'We are therefore proof that will is reason, we saw our plight and made a instinctual choice to save ourselves.'

'So this thing we shall observe for the time being, as one does to better understand it's process.'

'That is a bad course to follow, wait for it to do something horrid and then what, ask it to stop.'

'Meaning observe for a weakness by tailing it, it's living flame, nobody can't touch it even if they wanted to.'

"Umm, gust of wind, smother with dirt, a heavy rain fall, you think those would do the job, it's a walking ember."

"Most would think that, but its far from the only methods we have to employ, a chance for someone to change."

"My sapling broke before I even had a year, now I'm out of my element, why not send me?"

"You're not out of your element, you are exactly where you belong until the time to plant your seed comes."

'Let me go, it's my turn out anyhow, let me see what this thing is and what it wants.'

'You must only watch, if you intervene the consequences would be calamitous, no extra blessings on you."

'Fine just leave me flight, quicker to move and be stealthy and if this thing attacks me I can escape.'

'Done, let us unseal the boundary and be gone, speak to anyone in the area and bring news of its movement."

'Oh look it just ate a leech, now it ate another.' If it's possible to mentally gag she did. 'I will be leaving now.'

As a spirit blessed with air she could modify her form to be stiff or lax, blow things and make her voice soft as a whisper or loud as a torrent along with flight swift as shadows before the sun, unseen as a star in daytime.

"In my task I set forth---oh how rude of me--for a second I, anyway the names Breeze Ariss, call me Bree."

Her voice echoed as she took form amid the smouldering remnants of bushes and shrubs.

She looked about in awe at the realm she inhabited but had rarely seen much of, taking off with wings of wind to follow the stench of brim and ash, little knowing the way or what she would find at the trails end.

A really big cloud nearly grazed her as she blew by in haste to get the word out, she plowed through a flock of birds on their way to nest, to whom she whispered an apology.

Scouring the ground with her far flung vision, spied many objects on a sandy shored cove near a wide lake, descended to treetop level into dense foliage, a dozen very large white clamshells lay in semi circles along the sand seemly to soak in sun, some appearing more dull or shimmery as the rays hit them, unimaginable.

Seeing no threat took a deep breath and blew a medium wind across the sand to stir them as none could see her current form, within a moment one moved and unburied itself, standing on two sleek feminine appendages ending in four digits, legs and foots if she recalled rightly.

"Shellby, Shelley, Shellsa, Shellma, Shellode, Shellynn, Shellsea, Shellucy, Shellisa, Shelltir, Shellfay, turn over!"

In unison all burst from the dunes and stood on long legs with glowing circles at the joint were foots met legs.

Shaking, stretching and dusting eachother as the main clam walked up and down the rows and checked each one.

Making whispy noise began to rebury themselves in the sand a ball of flame from the foliage began assaulting them.

The freak doused its gripping part in the sand to seize a clam about to dive by the leg and dragged her foot up to its face, tickling with frivolity for a straight minute until she opened up coughing up a shimmery orb that glowed on hitting the sand, intrigued let her go and looked at it, then jumped another and gave them the same treatment, crackling roars like a geyser blowout, was it amused?

Bree found the sight weird yet was oddly intrigued and if she believed her eyes the thing deprived five of their orbs before letting them submerge to safety in the water, taking the gathered items in hand and in one motion gobbled them up, tapping its gripper on its chest burped and ran into the jungle as she swiftly made to follow.

The water pulsed and moved with a malevolence Bree sensed something gigantic as the tides flooded the shore she stood on watching, two streams of bluish mist poured from within it using such force as to float the whole oval ridged hulk into the sky and up until it vanished.

Sprinting like the wind after this flaming freak using the limit of her blessing blew across a smelly bog over a rocky ridge and two raging rivers, she whistled through purple and pink blossom vine curtains until she found signs of charred and burned shrubs which she parted to find the infernal hothead attempting to wrangle what appeared to be a big lizard thing that was running in zig zags with smoke rising from its tail and back chortling clearly in pain, with a mighty blast of her nostrils sent the burning baddie tumbling as another lizard thing emerged from the brush and following from above this hairy white and red creature leaping from the trees shrieking as it hurled stones.

The burning turd simply stood and watched bit before setting a fern alight and absconding into the bush again.

The second teamed up with the first as they turned chasing the lone hairy beast behind some foliage the noise morphed from screams and roars to hoots and coos, Bree looked about in worry as the bush went silent and held still. -----------

Silvery tinted folk wearing colorful robes come to climb the highest peak, serenade their deity to be given wishes.

In doing all that they pollute the environment with semi awful sounds and litter and lewd acts.

"Chord, Overlord of Lyricism, Conductor of Valvana's Host, Master of Minstrels, Most Honored, In thy name."

Maestro white robe baton 47

Maestra black robe baton 46

Sibling Harm red robe drum 31

Sibling Onia orange robe fiddle 29

Sibling Bari yellow robe mandolin 30

Sibling Tone green robe accordion 32

Sibling Bass blue robe xylophone 34

Sibling Alto purple robe harpsichord 25

"Sibling sings true."

"Sibling sings false."

"By Chords Tempo."

"Six Step Sibs Serenade Sweetly So Sun Shine Shall See Song Sorrow So Save Skin."

"Stay single file and keep quiet unless I motion so, Maestra keep order at the rear." A tall man in pure white robes with a hood barked to red robed man. "Harm, beat in three four, step in time."

A short curvy woman in black hood robes drew one stick like thing from her sleeve as the man in white did the same.

"Ave Maestro, if anyone falls out of formation has to go it barefoot, breaks will be permitted when we stop so use the buddy system, if you lack in discipline," She paused. "punishment will be mercilessly swift."

Six more in red orange yellow green blue and purple stood with objects slung along the back or side, eight total.

Bree

Red and Orange robes left soon after green and blue followed them, leaving yellow, purple, white and black at the mountains base.

Far from Harm, orange was accosted by the two in green and blue, parted her robes and poked her supple udders.

"What flavours have you got for me today?" Knelt in the gold grass as they stood on both sides of her with robes flapping in the wind wearing looks of mirth and eagerness as she delved into their folds, emerging with two fat silvery stems firmly in her fists with lips pursed into a O rhythmically slicked her grippers up and back down again and again as all three swayed together in the bizarre act.

Placing both to her lips while groaning the hood slipped from her head was caught by blue, who replaced it and green guided her into licking and kissing both with lavish attentions unbecoming of a maturely mannered maiden.

"Liquorice and caramel, tart and bitter to the taste, equally delicious." Smacking her lips and remarked lively.

"Sure hope thee oral talents have improved since last played, commence the performance, Sibling Onia."

'what were they doing, why do it and why was she watching them?' Breezy pondered. 'Could it be me?'

'Get this thing to take care of these invaders for me, the spirits will bind him and leave me free in reward.'

-------

'For your crimes of blessing a dangerous being aiding in the murder of eight mortals and the eruption of a dormant volcano leading to destruction of acres of land, I sentence you to under binding with your gifts stripped and only this creature for company.'

"That's not fair, sure my methods sucked but it got the desired result, anyway what's a few hundred acres here or there that's nature."

'That reasoning is exactly what got you here, methods or results pale when loss of life and unrepentant spirits are allowed to go unpunished, understand your folly and maybe in time the cost of your actions will be repaid.'

-----

Daily life of two caged roommate's in a maze in a hole a buried under a mountain suspended in time.

You think the fucking would be pretty awesome right? they got pretty burned out by round sixty I mean, How much can two persons do the deed before the trysts become stale, some extra kind of stimulation was in order.

"I'm 451 sparks old as ash by my races standards Pyrod spoke squarely "So how young are you, whisp of wind."

"Get lost Pyrod

"I deserve to be blown! before anything else, I'm in heat so get on your non existent knees and do your duty."

"Go suck yourself Pyrod, I don't love or need you, get the fuck away from me, your not worth two shits."

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