#if i get into the mood to draw plated armor again i might do a knight!ciri dragon!cerys piece 👀

[xejune]

that was the last of last year's abandoned sketches/WIPs!

but if you'd like to see more of my art, reminder that my commissions are open :3c

(or you can or just wait for when i next finish a drawing ✨️)

#june talks #i do want to draw more priscilla/sh'eenaz bc i think theyre fun #and ciri/cerys maybe #if i get into the mood to draw plated armor again i might do a knight!ciri dragon!cerys piece 👀 #my witcher brainrot has been lessening a little so there might be some other fandom & oc stuff in the future too #but i have a soft enough spot for many of the characters that i dont think i'll stop drawing them for a long while #esp since im still slowly reading the books #(im on The Time of Contempt now) #(issue is that i only tend to read the witcher when im in the train and i havent travelled much lately so. rip) #anyway thats enough rambling on my part <3 #if you read this far. here's a little secret #if you'd like me to draw smthng but u dont want to/cant commission me (no judgement). u can just send me a request through my asks #i cant guarantee i'll draw it (& esp not quickly. im a rather slow artist) but i do draw requests from there at times 👀

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #25: Silver Lining

Silver Lining – an advantage that comes from a difficult or unpleasant situation

The date had snuck up on him.

Dahkar rolled out of bed feeling grumpy and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He had no plans for the day, no diplomatic engagements that he would have to suffer through, no foes to deal with, no responsibilities he found boring. The day was his to do with as he pleased.

So why did the prospect of leaving his room seem so daunting, so pointless?

Something tugged at his mind, a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. He looked over to the calendar on his wall, a simple one that Tataru insisted all of their rooms in the Rising Stones have.

Oh.

Oh.

It was the anniversary….of the day the man he loved died.

Shite.

He’d forgotten. With everything that had been going on, he’d somehow let himself forget that the worst day of his life was approaching.

He’d forgotten him.

No you haven’t

He groaned and flopped back first onto his bed. I’m really not in the mood for this, Fray.

Too bad. Whether you like it or not, I am a part of you, here when you need me. Right now, you need me.

He rubbed his temples. Can you not just let me be sad and lonely in peace?

Not if you are going to lie to yourself, no.

I’m not lying to myself. I haven’t thought about him in moons what with everything going on. I’ve forgotten him. I almost forgot the anniversary of the day he died. I claim to have loved him, and this is how I’m honoring his memory. I deserve this misery and you damn well know it

Are you done?

Oh will you just fuck off. You told me you didn’t think we’d ever talk like this again and here you are. lying to me.

I told you I didn’t know. I didn’t. I certainly didn’t think you’d tell lies to yourself thinking you needed to be miserable. As if that’s what he would want. As if ‘not thinking about someone constantly’ is the same as forgetting them. What a lode of shite, really. I thought we were smarter than this. Clearly you still need me.

Dahkar scoffed What the hells do you know about what he would have wanted?

Do you really need me to answer that? Or should I say ‘need us’?

Dahkar screamed in frustration, covering his face with his hands to muffle the sound.

Feel better?

No, but since you seem to have all of the answers, what do you suggest I do?

You’re being petulant, and you know it. My suggestions are still you knowing exactly what to do. But if hearing me say it will help you realize it, then fine. Get up, get dressed, go to his grave, leave some of those lilies, and tell him how much we love him and miss him. And then move forward. We both know he’d be quite cross with the idea of you holding yourself back from real happiness because of what happened to him. So accept it and let yourself love again already.

He sighed. For being my inner darkness, you’re weirdly romantic.

Do I need to drag us back to the Sea of Clouds so you can hear the moogle’s song again, or are you going to accept that because I remember it, you certainly do?

No, Gods no. Fine I’m going. And I’ll….think about the rest

That’s what you’ve already been doing.

Shut it.

A few hours later, Dahkar knelt at Haurchefant’s grave. While he still carried Nothung on his back, he’d eschewed the dark plate armor he normally wore as a Dark Knight, instead donning the mail of a House Fortemps Knight that he’d worn the Grand Melee with the Eorzean Alliance. It felt like a fitting tribute to the man he was here to speak to, even if it was so light he almost felt naked.

“Hey, Haurche. If you’re watching,I reckon you’re probably yelling at me. I’m sorry for letting myself be miserable with sadness. I know you don’t want me to do that. You’d probably tell me something like ‘You have so much love to give, let yourself do so!’. And you’re right. So I’m gonna try my best. There’s actually this girl in the Scions, she-“

The loud CRACK of a flintlock discharging interrupted his words and his side exploded in pain. He screamed and went down.

“Well well well, boys. Look what we got here. Another bleedin’ heretic comin’ to pay respects to his heretic kin.”

The voice was young, male, angry, but strangely somewhat refined. He rolled over to look at his attackers, trying not to cry out at the pain the act caused him. A group of elezen youths, four boys and a single girl, all well dressed too. The leader held a flintlocke, still smoking, pointed at him. “What…” he coughed. “What the hells are you doing? This is no heretic’s grave!”

“Oh it isn’t? Oh, well my mistake then. I thought this was the grave of that bastard Haurchefant Greystone, who brought outsiders into Ishgard that up and utterly destroyed the very foundations our great nation was built on! Now we have another bastard as our leader who let fucking dragons into the city and let the fucking commoners have a voice equal with their betters!” the leader spat, lowering his gun. His cohorts nodded or shouted agreements,

“Ah, I see.” Dahkar spat blood onto the snow, trying to get to his knees so he could at least defend himself. The shot was well placed, though, and he was struggling to overcome the pain of it. “And what might you plan to do if it was?”

“Well first, we’re gonna gut you and spill your blood over this place. Then we’re gonna dig that bastard up, shatter whatever bones he’ s got left in there and spread em around so the beasts can have em, and whatever’s left of you. Then we’ll shatter that stone and toss it in Witchdrop where it belongs. How’s that sound to you, heretic? Don’t answer, we don’t care.”

The group all drew a series of blades, knives and daggers, and slowly advanced on him. Dahkar tried in vain to get to his feet, or at least his knees, any position where he could try to draw his sword and defend himself, but the strain was getting to be too much, and he nearly blacked out. A splitting headache overtook him as he tried to block out the noise in his mind.

Noise that he belatedly realized was a booming voice

GIVE ME CONTROL. LET ME IN, DAHKAR. I CAN END THIS, GIVE ME CONTROL

“WILL YOU SHUT UP, FRAY?” he screamed. He seized the darkness within himself and pushed it out, as if trying to excise the voice from his head.

Miraculously, it worked. The yelling stopped. He sensed a growing pool of darkness nearby. Opening his eyes, he looked over. A pool of dark aether had gathered next to him. From it rose a shadowy form of a hyur, glad in black and blue, gold-trimmed armor. On his back was a Deathbringer made of darkness. The Shadow looked to him with glowing red eyes

“Neat trick” it said in his own voice.

The youths had began to back away, screaming threats or oaths. He used that time to reach into the Armory and summoned his plate armor. With a flash of light, it appeared on him, the damaged mail gone. The cuirass clamped down on the would, reducing the blood loss.

The shadow offered him a hand, and he took it, getting back to his feet and drawing Nothung.

“Don’t kill them.” he said to it.

“Mercy? They’d have shown you none.”

“They’re angry and stupid. Everyone should get one chance to move beyond that”

The shadow, Fray, laughed. Or Dahkar did. It was impossible to tell, and in the end it didn’t matter.

Both lept at the elezen youths, who screamed in terror.

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Dahkar Darkspear #fray myste #or is it really?

[thenamesblurrito]

ladies and gentlemen this is ask dump no. 5

aw scrap here we go again!

answered asks include body modification as the opposite of empurata, Mutacons making bandages out of kibble, kibble used as furniture, numbers of Sweeps, a DILF alligator, RID15 Tidal Wave, a BIG infodump on dealing with the circus that is Iacon’s media, Cybertronian muppets, a WIP of Elita Infin1te (or rather her sword), and the many secret sufferings of Alpha Trion.

yea, sorta! body modification in SNAP is more limited than in canon. you can’t simply switch out your body like the total frame reformats of IDW or TFP, and losing a limb can be permanent if not healed in time. for the most part, the frame you have is the frame you’re stuck with, and those frames fall within specific parameters.

HOWEVER-

some modification and upgrades do exist! the most prominent here would be a prosthetic helm like Lugnut. if the processor is left intact and attached after a helm injury, a new helm can be sculpted, with extra optics to make up for the lower quality of artificial optics, and as visibly different as possible to differentiate from empurata. other replacements and prosthetics are common after debilitating injury where the original body part cannot be saved. whether or not the prosthetic is as good as the original depends on the individual and the specific injury. there are also functional medical upgrades, like thicker armor attachments, alt mode additions, etc. almost every upgrade is for the express purpose of improving one’s frame for their function, and there’s definitely a limit to them. you can’t give yourself new limbs if you only had four to begin with. a grounder cannot become a flier. the spark can only power so much mass in the frame, and some people have adverse reactions that mean the upgrades don’t take and must be removed.

this sort of relates to the next point here-

yes, with some caveats.

Cybertronians are a segmentary species, so they can detach some body parts for a bit without negative consequences, as long as that body part is reattached for revitalization and repair. many folks can do this without any medical assistance for the less integral kibble. for instance, Kup uses his tow arm as a walking stick, but he has to reattach it whenever he wants to go into alt mode, and if he doesn’t transform he still needs to reattach it for a couple hours every day at minimum. so if a Mutacon were to create a makeshift splint out of kibble and detach it, it would likely be fine, as long as they got that kibble back. otherwise, they’ve lost a whole chunk of their body that they can’t just regenerate.

for shifting armor to cover a wound without detaching it, that depends on the nature of the wound. if it’s ragged, large, or in areas with a lot of joints or movement, it might be difficult to shuffle around plating to cover it. a more superficial injury in a less delicate area would be easier

sort of! it’ll depend on the individual’s kibble, of course! double checking SNAP Bulkhead, i don’t think he could, because his kibble isn’t large enough. but Scylla could probably use her alt mode arms as a chair, Wreck-Gar has a built in backpack and belly bag, and of course the Necrobot uses his wingcloak as hands. different kibble with different bonus uses

the ideal number of Sweeps is seven, since less than that means they don’t have enough collective processing power to function optimally. more than seven, however, puts a strain on that collective processing power to smoothly operate so many at once. so there’s usually packs of as close to seven as they can get.

as to how many can just exist at the same time, it’s limited only by how many Scourge is willing to forge. he first invents them in s1e06 A Use for Army-building! An Upgrade to Sweeps. by the next episode they figure out that having dozens of them running around is... well it’s about as chaotic as having dozens of flying puppies with hands and weapons would be. in large numbers they’re very difficult to control. good thing Galvatron is excellent at commanding his new army!

(the post this is referring to) @oldboyjensenhinglemeier​ thanks Dilf Waitress, i can always rely on you

(the post this is referring to) i think that’s fantastic, i’d love to see a Cybertronian whale. imagine the size of the holding cell you’d have to have for him!

oooohohoho what a sticky subject. here’s a quick rundown on faction ideology to give you some context for how they operate and thus deal with the media. the heroes aren’t referred to as heroes, but rather as vigilantes at best and violent gangs in a turf war at worst. Froid has remotely diagnosed them with pathological dissent. at the same time, some folks have jumped on the market to make hero merch, and it becomes a very lucrative business for some. public opinion is constantly torn between fear and anger at how they do whatever they’d like and gratitude and admiration for how they throw themselves in harms way to prevent disaster and save people. it’s really a giant mess all the time that changes by the day.

there is of course the whole snafu surrounding the media’s portrayal of the Elite Guard as a backup team for the Autobots, and Elita 1 as Optimus’ sidekick. and Elita 1 is Not Happy about that. Elita 2 is startlingly good at winding the reporters around her little finger and always seems to know just what to say, whereas Elita 3 just grumbles at the cameras, even sometimes demanding they respect boundaries or be locked in the nearest building with the use of her powers. Elita 4 barely notices them unless she’s in the mood to prank someone, and Elita 5 just avoids them, as they tend to dramatize her size and thus her danger. given their excellent teamwork and how they’re (mostly) in favor of reform instead of anarchy, the Elite Guard would actually have a good shot at getting along with the news, except they bow to precisely no one, including the people wanting to interview them, so instead they come across as a standoffish and self-serving clique with dangerous habits

the Decepticons are in the bad-boy limelight and they love it. well, at least Galvatron, Hellscream, and Thunderblast do. Galvatron takes advantage of every opportunity to pontificate on the evils of society and the right to rise up for freedom. broadcasters have learned to cut the cameras as soon as he starts speaking so his ideas don’t get the chance to spread too far. Hellscream cares less about principles and more about scaring the living daylights out of every reporter he sees, often leaving them with cracked equipment and ringing audials from the sheer destructive power of his voice. Thunderblast just wants to preen in all the attention and boy does she get it. Cyclonus actively avoids most gawkers, Scourge talks too long and complicated to make good news, Drift either ignores them or sends them away with some lofty spiritual advice, and Triptych is dangerously unpredictable so most reporters have learned to stay away from him.

the Predacons came into existence in a negative light, and they were grimly prepared for it. after all, Sixshot used to be a Decepticon, and their falling-out and defection caused quite a stir. when Abominus first appeared, the fearful reaction of the public to such an ‘abomination’ is actually how he chose his name in the first place. Airachnid loves tormenting reporters with nuclear-grade sarcasm and subtle threats, but if anyone makes her truly mad she’ll string them up in her web cabling and leave them hanging. she also flaunts that cabling by using her darts to knit nets, shawls, and other decorations, despite the fact that getting cabling tangled up in seams and joints can lead to something called entrapment protocols, mentioned in the seventh ask here. Enforcers use capture equipment designed to trigger entrapment protocols, so her mimicry of that as nothing more than a casual accessory is a big ‘frag you’.

Soundwave.... is a category of his own. he only comes into being in the fourth season, but the media soon learns to quake at the thought of encountering Soundwave, and his minicons are little better. there’s at least one instance where he Rosanna-rolls the entirety of Iacon.

the Autobots keep wavering between ‘the only true good ones of all these vigilantes’ and ‘the worst possible people in the world, hide the children, lock the doors’ in the eyes of the media. Optimus does his best to treat everyone fairly, and the Mistress usually has something encouraging to share. much like Galvatron but for completely opposite reasons, broadcasters have learned to cut cameras when Ultra Magnus starts talking, because his encyclopedic knowledge of law means he regularly lists every instance of malpractice, abuse, illegality, and disrespect that he sees in the average reporter, Enforcer, or politician, which is not the kind of upbraiding that would serve the propaganda machine. however, it does get him the attention of Tyrest, who leverages legality and public opinion to try and draw Ultra Magnus into an agreement during s3e03- A Councilmember’s Boon! An Upgrade to Legality. Rodimus is a chaos beast who has been known to snatch cameras for selfies. it’s kind of a tossup as to whether Cheetor will be going slow enough to show up in the footage or not.

now, i can’t talk about the media without mentioning the feral force of nature that is Rewind. the best of the best, he’s the only one willing to brave the battlefields for an up-close look, constantly endangering himself in order to get the freshest scoop. he might not always hold opinions in line with the mandated propaganda about these vigilantes, but the media lets him get away with it, since he’s the most successful at getting them more news. this has caused him to be targeted at least once, unfortunately.

love this question. love it. you know those lil remote controlled robot dogs, or things to that effect? i’m imagining that’s what Cybertronian muppets are like, since they can create robotics and animatronics with a lot more finesse and ease than we can. in fact, making fabric is probably harder for them than robotics, since they don’t have the same materials as we do to work with. but anyway, these muppets wouldn’t be limited by what a hand can do to puppet them around, being instead remote controlled from off stage, so i don’t know if they’d have that kind of visual gag. maybe instead there would be fourth-wall breaking where one muppet snatches the remote of another?

the painful thing about this answer is that i have a design i’m happy with EXCEPT FOR THE HELM i have sketched and resketched a dozen different ideas ugh. the body looks fine, all five of them combined in a way that makes sense to me, but i just CANNOT get the helm right i’m so angry. anyway here’s the Cyber Caliber, all of their swords combined into one massive weapon

the more accurate question is, what hasn’t happened to him. he’s been through a lot, the poor mech. but i’ll list some things for you:

that one time he had a sibling be erased from reality

that one time he had to murder another sibling because they decided evil was fun

that one time a fragging beachball stole his work

the fact he doesn’t know if his twin is alive or not

that one time he was a junker running for his life

that one time he was too late to save the Terminus Blade, and it was stolen

that one time his pride and joy, the Athenaum Sanctorum, was destroyed, and everything archived there was lost

that other time the same fragging beachball stole his work

that other time he was a junker hiding for his life

the fact that the theft of his diary started a whole new branch of religion and he has to read his own words as if they’re sacred

the fact that the title of Trion was in fact derived from his diary, and the sheer painful irony of being given the title of Trion.

that one time he had to rip off some fingers to fit in

that one time Trypticon showed up, awhile before the JAAT was founded, and he had to take it on alone

that other time Trypticon showed up when the JAAT opened and he had to hand out some precious relics to children to protect the school

aaaaand his current reason for drinking! the fact that of all twenty-something heroes running around, he only knows who THREE of them are because he only gave out THREE RELICS! and relics just keep disappearing from the collection he’s guarding

someone help him he is not having a good time. and it’s only going to get worse...

#ask dump #worldbuilding #cybertronian biology #Empurata #mutacon #sweeps #gatoraider #cybertron #cybertronian culture #autobot #elite guard #decepticon #predacon #rewind #elita infin1te #Alpha Trion #faculty #i've given so much away about alpha now sheesh #well not really i guess but ITS STILL A LOT

[internalsealpanic]

Do It Yourself Hauntings

Summary: You and Terry get extremely bored while on a group date as you walk through a haunted house. Terry has a brilliant idea that’s sure to chase away your boredom. 

masterlist

a/n: Guess who is flagrantly avoiding homework to write a fic? So this is Cat!Reader x Terry McGinnis. Reader is still as gender neutral as I can make them so I went with the name ‘Stray’. A tid bit I could not write in organically is that reader is painfully shy in their civilian identity but has little to no inhibitions when in their night time persona. Another clarification is that this is the outfit I had in mind. It was legit the thing I had my heart set on when my lizard brain said Catwoman character.   

Warnings: Adult language, clowns, clownery, and this maybe a tinsy bit spicy at one point (I tried) (kind of? Look, I just don’t want anyone going all mother superior on me. Just in case. ).

You were incredibly, stupidly, magnificently bored.

You shifted on your heels, letting them click and echo trying to distract yourself from the thrum of excess energy surging through your body.

It-It didn’t work.

The clicking only made you more anxious, plucking at your taut nerves like well-tuned guitar strings.

It probably didn’t help that you just came back from a dazzling night of heists and getting shot at. Adrenaline still flowing through your veins like molten ichor. Heart still floundering in your chest as if- at any moment- the cops would come rushing in and you would have to make your daring, if not dramatic, escape.

Between this and the sorry attempt at jump scares the poor underpaid actors subjected you to, your head started aching and your mood plummeted into something vile. Thankfully, your group was none-the-wiser unless all of them spontaneously decided to master micro-expressions then you were the picture of an apprehensive young adult trekking through a cheap haunted house.

Why did you agree to this again?

Pulse still pounding loudly in your ears and content with letting the others have their fun, you silently fall into the back of the group. There was a higher chance that you would encounter the cringe-inducing scares but you weren’t too concerned. Nope. You were more worried about the very real possibility that you might deck Nelson or Chelsea or Blade or whoever the fuck decided that girls need to play scared to make guys feel cool. Ok, yeah, the last one.

When Chelsea did another ill-timed flinch, scrabbling for Nelson’s arm, and Nelson ate it up, you swore your eyes would roll their way out of their sockets. Whoever popularized this needed to be shot. Twice.

There was always a possibility that they weren’t faking it, that they were genuinely terrified but you highly doubted it considering if anything actually scary happened, Nelson would be the first one to run.

Neck deep in your musings, you hadn’t noticed as Terry slowed to keep pace with you. He leaned down close enough to brush his lips against your skin and blew a light gust into your ear.  You jumped clutching your ear feeling the heat spread through your body. You twitched away. The memory of his lips against your ear making your stomach dance. Your skin prickled with curiosity-

 You glowered at him. You prayed that the embarrassment plain on your body language did not dampen the venom in your eyes.

“Told ya I could be scary,”

He winked.

You sighed.

Of course, he hadn’t let that go.

You rolled your head to the side and shrank into your puffy leather jacket trying to hide the bright flush of your cheeks. From the absolutely smarmy grin he gave you, he was enjoying this. Was this payback? It was probably payback. Payback for all the slag you said over the comms, the flirty little touches, or all the little kisses you dealt him every time you encountered him in the field.

Here’s a novel concept! Maybe don’t dish out what you can’t take.

“Compared to this place? Yeah,”

“Ouch, what’s got you in a mood?”

You leveled him a look. Terry leveled you with his own. You tilted your head ever so slightly to show the bruise blooming on your collar bone. He winced. His jaw clenched.  You instantly regretted showing him when his brows were carved with guilt. Normally, you liked looking at Terry. Easy on the eyes kind of handsome. He only looked punchable in the Batsuit. But you could never stand the guilt and worry on his face, especially when you were the cause. It wasn’t even his fault. You took the blow knowing your armor wasn’t quite as enforced. That was on you.

You sucked in a breath and rolled your shoulders contorting yourself away from the ever-present need to apologize. Instead, you waved your hand vaguely at the cheaply constructed haunted house. “Admit it, this place is-” 

“isn’t that-” He looked around rubbing the back of his neck. “-bad?”

“Terry, the scariest thing about this place is how many credits I wasted,” you deadpanned looking down at your, now, lighter wallet. It wasn’t physically lighter but you were a drama queen and you had a point to make.

Terry chuckled at your antics and rolled his eyes. “It’s got its charms,” You raised your brow and crossed your arms. His shoulders slumped then straightened, a teasing quirk to his lip curling.   “Still better than doing that family studies paper,”

Ok, that you could agree on.

The rest of the walk was marginally bearable with you and Terry providing quiet commentary on each scare. It was hard to hold back laughter. Your body shook, nearly falling into a giggle fit several times. You got dirty looks from the others several times for the transgression of ‘ruining’ the mood.  You were a little impressed that they had managed to make a mood for you to ruin. After all, what’s more romantic than zombie clowns and warehouses?

 Your sides ached. You really wanted to just let out a laugh, a real full belly laugh but you hated your laugh. Terry, you thought, was aware of your broken plate laugh. Why did he keep trying to draw it out?

Your group made it into a large clearing. Your anxiety immediately ratcheted up with the wide-open space but relaxed after scanning the room. There was nowhere to put

Creaking and scraping of old rusty metals resonated in every corner.

Terry nudged you and pointed upward, directing your attention to the silhouette moving around in the rafters.

Your heart stopped momentarily but picked back up again as soon as you saw the graceless way the figure moved around.

A clown covered in gore and shards of metal jumped down from the rafters landing in the middle of your ragtag group. You scattered. You heard a few gasps. You even saw Nelson flinch. You took some petty satisfaction in being right.

You yawned less concerned with the crazy act he was putting on and more with how the hell he hasn’t landed on a single patron. You made your boredom plain. You’ve seen crazy.  Your sides throbbed in protest of the reminder.

You looked down to distract yourself only to be met with the sight of floppy red clown shoes. Genuine, floppy, red clown shoes. You pinched the bridge of your nose and bit your lip. Your body trembled from trying to contain the laughter roiling in your stomach.

The man continued to spout something about keeping you all here for his entertainment. Blah. Blah. You crossed your ankles and leaned ever so  slightly into Terry’s space, cocking your head to the opposite side.  You yawned into your hand muffling the sound as best you could in an attempt to be polite. Terry had other ideas.

Terry leaned down into your ear making an exaggerated snoring sound.  An ugly snort tore its way out of your nostrils loud enough to be heard over the clown’s overly dramatic soliloquy. You felt everyone’s eyes on you. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stifle the onslaught of snorts rising up from your chest. You narrowed your eyes at Terry who, at the moment, was also fighting his own fit of laughter. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you, in solidarity, tried not to laugh too hard at the expense of the wannabe Shakespeare actor.

You kind of felt bad.

Maybe.

Ok, you did. But not nearly enough to actually stop laughing. In your defense, Ace had more acting chops than this guy. But kudos, he was really into the bit.

He lunged at the two of you, fuming with smoke coming out of his ears. Terry grabbed you pressing you to his side and wrapping a protective arm around you. You let out an embarrassing little squeak. You witnessed as he cataloged it into the ‘stuff y/n is never gonna live down’ part of his brain. ‘Cute’ he mouthed silently. You cursed yourself. You turned to cuss at Terry-

The clown lunged at you again, murderous intent plain as day on his face. He snarled as you two dodged him easily with a quick sidestep. In the corner of your eyes, you could see the other actors look on in bewilderment.  One of them shook her head clearly exasperated. Ok, so you unintentionally pissed off one of the actors. Great. Now, what?

The man lunged for you again. Dodging gracefully, you two turned on your heels and bolted leading him away from the group. You could hear the group collectively cheering him on behind you as you made your escape.

Technically, you could just knock him out and maybe go back to the group. One of you was the goddamn Batman while the other was Stray, thief extraordinaire, after all. But between the gasp of laughter and the playful grin stretching across Terry’s face like hell that was happening.

You two ducked into a corner tired and panting. You press yourself against the cool metal of the wall with Terry shielding you from view.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,”  You whisper, shrinking into your leather jacket feeling keenly aware of your lack of undershirt as the heat radiating from his skin pressed against yours. He leaned against you, closing the gap between the two of you.  His panting breaths fanning against your skin, lips brushing against the bare skin of your collar.  You bit out a curse as the color on your cheeks darkened. You swallowed a lump, heart floundering again. You felt him smile against your skin.

You like to say it was anger that flared up in you. You really would but the heat suffusing in your body said otherwise. You pushed at him weakly. “We have to get back,”

Terry stepped back giving you space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“You sure you want to? Bozo is still looking for us. That and you’ll probably still be bored,”

You tapped your foot and tilted your head considering it. You looked into his face searching for something. You sigh inwardly. “Yeah, no. I really don’t wanna go back. The scariest thing is still the amount of money we wasted and I have yet to be scared shitless,”

He smiled at you victoriously. “I have an idea,”

You blinked at him.“Ok, great job! Now, I’m pissing myself with fear,” You teased. You weren’t a fan of Terry’s ideas half the time but hell if they weren’t entertaining.

Terry rolled his eyes at you holding out his hand. “You brought your goggles, right?”

“McGinnis, I didn’t exactly have time to go home and-” You stilled, feeling his eyes trail down your chest before darting back up. Normally, when you were in costume, you left the zipper of your jacket open showing tantalizing glimpses of your soft flesh. Terry was absolutely not opposed to your costume choice unless you were in danger which was rare (thank you very much). This was what led to your current blushing predicament not that the other aspects of your costume were any less complementary. You sighed inwardly before stammering out “Yeah, I have my goggles,”  Fishing them out of an inner pocket of your jacket, you waved them around half-heartedly. 

“Schway! Come on follow me,” He said grabbing your wrist before you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

You rounded a couple of corners before stopping at a beam. He looked from left to right brow furrowed. He tapped his foot twice then somehow decided to go left. How the hell Terry managed to find his way around in the dark was a complete mystery to you. Your first guess is echolocation but the second, more logical guess, was that Bruce was a paranoid old man. Like a normal human, you were entirely dependent on the night vision mode of your goggles. 

You stopped when Terry stretched his arm out in front of you. You squinted seeing another group of bored-looking patrons. You turn to Terry who was looking at them and seemingly analyzing the group and it clicked.

“Oh,” you whispered quietly as you understood what he was planning. He threw you a playful smirk knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist this golden opportunity to fuck around.

“I would like to go on record and say this is a terrible idea,”

“And yet you’re going along with it,”

You were about to protest but couldn’t really think of a good defense.

“You know, if you really wanted to scare them you could have just dressed up as old Brucie,” 

You huffed and put your goggles on before crouching low. He followed suit bending low.

“Weeell, sorry. Your gremlin mug was the best I could do on short notice,”

You made a face of mock hurt which made him chuckle. “Am not,”

As it turns out, two vigilantes well-trained in sneaking around are actually pretty good at scaring people. In the last 5 minutes, you’ve scared four different groups of patrons all with varying reactions but all equally hilarious.

“Yanno we could probably scare Nelson,” Terry hummed innocently trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. You answered him with a vicious smile. “You just want payback for the prank he pulled yesterday,”

“And you want to see him  piss himself,”

This was true.

“Ok, fine. What’s the game plan?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Terry chuckled knowing he’s got you hook, line, and sinker. You scoffed but let him lean closer to you to whisper his maniacal scheme.

“If this works I am going to cry-” You crowed ducking behind another row of boxes as you quietly trailed your group.  “-Hand me your jacket,”

Completely avoiding your outstretched hands, he draped his jacket over you like a strange leather veil before giving your head a quick pat. “Hope you brought tissues then,”

“Like slag, this is gonna work,” You said quirking your brow and tilting your head to make the doubt plain on your face. Even with your vision impaired by your new headpiece, you could still admire how nice he looked in his shirt. Not that you let it show. You hoped.

“Just watch and learn nonbeliever,”

“Oh god he thinks he can pull off miracles now,” You sneered climbing on to his broad shoulders.

“Shhhhhhhh”

You pouted down at him crossing your arms. He shrugged his shoulders, the movement drawing a surprised yelp from you in turn making him snicker. You were about to open your mouth when your smoke trap was triggered.

Ok, this was a blatant abuse of your equipment but who was gonna tell you off? Bruce? Probably but the man was allergic to fun so being at a Halloween fair was, likely,  safe.

Thick waterfalls of white smoke cascaded down from the rafters, blanketing the floor with a thick mist of curling smoke. The group stopped almost mystified by how well-timed the eerie effect was. You had to hold back a derisive snort when they all turned to each other confused.

Because, yes, this is what your hours of booby trap training have been leading up to.

Truly, a magnum opus of spite.

You could already see Nelson readying himself to bolt even as Blade and Chelsea hung off his arms. Petty satisfaction bloomed in you.

Ok, you may be a gremlin.

You threw your voice in a shrill cackle letting it echo and bounce in the room over the too slow circus music playing in the background. It was a chilling sound, the kind that rattled in bones and traveled up the spine. One that you’ve only ever used for pranks during long nights at the lab. You even felt Terry freeze up beneath you. His grip on your thighs getting tighter. How on earth you didn’t yelp or squeak or make any other little noise at that was the true miracle.

“Wha- what’s going on?“  Blade squeaked, pressing into the group.

"Didn’t we just pass the last attraction?!”

“Are you sure it was the last?”

“I don’t know man!”

The group shrank in on itself as the conversation grew more panicked. You felt Terry shaking from holding in laughter. You nudge him softly with your heel. He took a breath and nodded to tell you he was fine.

“Oh children, there’s no need to fuss,” You coo sickeningly sweet. You see them swallow taking in your presence heavy as it was.

“The fun’s only just beginning!” You shriek flicking on the orange lights of your goggles. Your shrill, shrieking voice transmuting over the speakers filling the room.

They screamed, scrambled, and scattered. Your nearly 10-foot silhouette hovering over them. They tripped over each other. Some of them pulling at each other. Some stepping over feet in their haste to get away. Pure terror etched themselves on their faces.

You let them all sprint to exit, watching their forms all disappear before bursting out into laughter.

“Did- Did you see their faces?!”

“Please tell me you were recording,“

“wait-” You choked grabbing for your goggles. You made a show of checking and letting your shoulders fall in disappointment.

Terry looked crushed. A vicious grin carved across your face. “Relax, I was,”

Terry’s slumped against the crate as he leaned back. He ran his hand through his black hair and began to laugh again.

You put your goggles back to your jacket pocket. You clutched at his jacket letting your ugly laugh tumble out of your lips. Terry planted a kiss on your nose making your breath hitch. 

"What was that for?!” Your hands flying to your nose. Your fingers traced the small patch of skin he touched.

“You were just too cute,” He laughed ruffling your hair.

How do you respond to that? How could he say things like that so casually? Does he not know how many heart attacks it gives you?

“Jerk”

“PFFFFT”

“Don’t ‘pfffft’ me!” You bit out, throwing his jacket at him.

“Pfffft”

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“I-”

“Ahem!”

You both looked up to see a security guard and Bozo glowering down at you. You gave them both what passed for a sheepish, but not exactly, apologetic look.

The burly guard picked you both up by the scruff of your necks and hauled you out of the building. He tossed you out back as Bozo yelled “stay out” from the comfort of the guards back. 

“Kick us out yourself, coward!” Terry yelled, shaking his fist like an old man. You slapped your forehead in an effort not to encourage him. Bozo glowered at him from behind his meat shield. Terry snarled. You grabbed his arm to stop him from doing anything stupid.

“I knew it was you two,” Max sighed, hand on her hip.

“How’d you guess?”

“Circus music,”

You looked at her uncomprehendingly before remembering your well-documented discomfort with circuses. You slapped your hand against your forehead. Terry, helpful as usual, snickered at you.

 But before you could throw hands, Max spoke cleared her throat.

“You dumbasses are lucky they don’t press charges,” Max aggravated pinching the bridge of her nose. You had the decency to look a little sheepish at the accusation but Terry looked pleased which earned him a chastising look.

“Sorry, ma’am” You both grumbled as she pulled you both up. 

All three of you walked in tandem.  Max let up the responsible act.

“Not the worst group date you’ve been on, right?” Terry nudged.

 “No, guess not,” You scoffed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Stiiiiill not as bad as that time you got us caught by the Joker Gang~”

“That wasn’t even my fault,”

————————————–

Thanks for reading! Also please do not do this in real life. They will get mad at you even if their haunted house does stink.

taglist:  @batarellabatarella (YOU BITCH I GOT ANOTHER BATBOY FOR YOU), @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

#batafm #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis #october #my writing #batboys #spooktober

[imagining-supernatural]

The Collapse

Part 25 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  Sebastian picks up on your immense change of mood and it leads to a fight

Word Count: 1,191

“Hey, you okay?”

“What?” Seb’s question pulled you out of your thoughts.

He nodded at your nearly untouched plate of roast and potatoes. “You’ve barely eaten anything. You feeling okay?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. Just… just tired, I guess.” Tired of waiting… pretending…

He cocked his head and watched you carefully. His eyes on you made you feel uncomfortable for the first time since meeting him. “You sure? You’ve been, I don’t know, quiet since we left the hospital.”

“As opposed to…” you challenged. “Seb, we’re both quiet people—”

“Not around each other.” His response made you look down at your plate of food. And your action just made him more worried. You could tell from the way he nearly lunged across the table to grab your hand. “C’mon, baby. What happened today?”

Your answer was immediate. “Nothing.”

He waited until you looked up at him again before cocking an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“Nothing, I swear.” Somehow, you managed to sneak your hand out from under his. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m tired. That’s what happens when you’re getting treatment for cancer.”

“You were getting treatment for cancer yesterday and you picked me up at the airport with a smile and a kiss. Tonight you can’t even look me in the eye.”

Holding back a sour laugh, you schooled your features into something neutral and looked straight at him. “I’m looking you in the eye, Seb. And I’m telling you that I’m tired.”

He bit at the inside of his cheek for a moment before shaking his head. “But that’s not all, is it?”

You tried to think of what to say to him while holding his gaze, but nothing came to mind. So, you did the only thing you could think of to diffuse whatever situation was happening here and took a bite of your roast. He was big on nutrition. Maybe if you ate, he’d relax. One thing could go right tonight, and he’d feel better.

“So now you’re eating?”

And that got on your nerves. “What the hell do you want from me, Sebastian? A few weeks ago I didn’t eat well and you picked a fight. Tonight, I’m too tired to eat, and you pick a fight. Then I do eat, and you pick a fight. What the fuck you do want?”

“I’m the one picking fights?”

“Yeah, you are.” You set your fork down with a clatter and pushed back from the table. “Because I’m too tired to eat, much less pick fights.”

And with that, you stood and started walking away with the full intention of sleeping in the guest room.

Your intentions crumbled into dust the second Sebastian opened his mouth.

“I overheard you and Jasmin earlier today.”

Ice flooded your veins.

You were frozen in the doorway.

“Wh-What?”

Even though your voice was nearly a whisper, he still heard you. And he repeated himself, which meant you hadn’t misheard him. “I overheard you and Jaz talking.”

“A-about what?” How much had he heard? And what kind of a person were you if you hoped he only heard your confession to murder, and not to loving him.

“Look at me,” he said, making your vision tunnel in, “and I’ll tell you.”

Fuck. How the fuck could you face him? But how could you go on not knowing?

It felt like a century before you gathered the courage to turn back around, a cold sweat breaking on your brow. And even that wasn’t enough for him. He motioned to your recently vacated chair and you could barely breathe as you made your way back to sit down.

If he’d heard you confess to murdering your father…

Well… today might just have been your last day at the hospital. You hoped there was an empty cell next to your sister’s.

Nevertheless, you had to hear him out. You had to know.

So you sat back in the chair and forced your eyes up to his face, blurry as your vision was. “What did you hear?”

“About your dad.” The eye contact was too much. Your eyes fell down to your unfinished dinner plate. “Y/N, I’ve thought about it and Jasmin was right. It was self-de—”

“It wasn’t fucking self-defense!” You nearly exploded. “Why the fuck can’t you and Jaz get that through your heads? Hell, you weren’t even there. You don’t know anything about what happened. You didn’t see the fallout. Fuck, Sebastian. You don’t know a single thing about me. You-you-you-you have this polished version of me a-a-and that’s not who I am.”

“Jaz knows who you are and she—”

“I didn’t tell her everything! You really think I would have told her?” Fuck, now you were getting angry. Black edges in the corners of your eyes angry. Angry at the universe for dealing you this shitty hand. Angry at your family for playing the game wrong. Angry at Jasmin having the kind of childhood you wished you had. “Jasmin was the perfect kid. I was fucking jealous of her. I wanted her life, but I knew I would never have anything close to what she has and I didn’t want to ruin it for her anymore than I already had. So, no, Seb. No, Jaz doesn’t know who I am. Not really.”

“You really want me to believe that you’re some bad guy—”

“My dad wasn’t the first person I killed,” you stated. “And he wasn’t the last.”

The roast beef on your plate blurred into the mashed potatoes as your heart started beating out of control.

“Shit,” you barely breathed out. “Oh, shitting f-fuck. I didn’t mean to—”

“Y/N…” Sebastian said carefully.

“Fuck,” you spat out.

“Explain.”

That was the last thing you wanted to do.

No. Actually, the last thing you wanted to do was make Sebastian question his morals on whether to keep housing a murderer or to let someone die by not providing them with medical care.

It was time you made the decision you should have made long ago.

“No,” you said, shaking your head as tears obscured your vision. “No, I’m not gonna do that.”

Pushing back from the table, you stumbled towards the door, but your vision was blurred and your head was pounding and you knocked into the wall. You felt, more than heard Sebastian’s movement behind you. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going—”

“I’m...” You pressed your hand to your head, hoping that would quell some of the pain. “I’m just going… Fuck, Seb you didn’t deserve any of—shit.” Another spike of pain shot through your head and down your neck.

You were so close to being cancer free…

You should have known it was too good to be true.

“I’m sure you can find me once your lawyer draws up the divorce pap—aaahh!” Your knees hit the floor as every drop of energy was sapped from your body.

Distantly you heard Sebastian calling your name, but it was like you were being buried alive. Your senses were dulling, shutting down. You could swear your eyes were open, but, “I can’t see… I can’t see anything…”

What do you guys think she meant by “Not the first person I’ve killed and not the last”?? And what’s going to happen? Why did she collapse? If she survives, are they going to be able to fix things?

CHAPTER 26: THE MORNING AFTER

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader angst #marvel fanfic #sebastianxreader

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 39

The near cloudless skies above let the afternoon sun beam down upon the city of Townsville, most of its light reflecting off the glass of the towering skyscrapers and redirects down towards the estates and manors that make up the upper crust district. The sunny glow seeps its way straight through a small window set along one of these manors; resting along the floor of a seemingly random dark room; a stream of dust passing through the sunshine when the door to this room creaks open. From the light that comes out from this doorway, the room is revealed to be filled with numerous party supplies. A lone figure stands within this very light and waltz’s right on through the doorway, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way into the walk in closet. With the closet door shut, the room starts to dim back and lets the sliver of natural sunlight be all that illuminate the closet; a young man with a blue mane dressed in white glazing over the party decorations, fancy cups and plates, tapestries, fancy sculptures, even a shut down automaton dressed in a suit.

Can’t believe Kingsley’s folks got a whole closet filled with this kinda fancy party stuff; makes a guy wonder how often they throw these kinda stuffy shindigs. Lookin at all these kinda decorations, doubt any of them were any fun ragers that didn’t even draw out even a little bit of a cheer; much less set about half the building on fire. Maybe the robot has some sparks in em, but it might be a safe bet to say that it ain’t gonna be hostin even a four year old’s discount birthday bash anytime soon…What was I doing here again? ...Oh right, the tapestries. That’s it. Reminding himself of the reason he had ventured into this darkened walk in closet in the first place, Tore reaches right over the numerous plates, cups, and decorations and grabs hold of a couple of rolled up pieces of cloths from one of the shelves; the blue boy zipping out from the dust filled closet with tapestries in tow.

Straight out through the hallway does Tore go through a fancy hallway, passing through the pictures of Kingsley with his happy family that hang along the wall; making his way towards the front lobby while keeping the rolls of cloth tight in arm. Amidst his rush out from the hallway however does he wind up bumping straight into somebody; both of them and the tapestries spilling onto the carpeted floor. “Ah!” Its in shaking off the little bump and rising back on his feet that he see’s who exactly it is he had wound up running into; the young daughter of the estate, dressed in a pink hoodie and black leggings. “Watch where the hell your going!” she rudely barks. “Sorry, Chloe. Couldn’t see ya while carrying these for yer bro’s party.” The mere mention of her brother’s party sours the young girl’s mood even further, incentivizing her to head straight towards the door; even as Tore continues to speak while picking up what he dropped. “So, how good are ya-” Hearing the front door slam shut makes him turn back towards the front, the red head he was trying to converse nowhere in site. “-Holding up…” Huh, guess she’s still tryin to workout some stuff after what happened with Circe half a month back. Can’t really blame her sour mood with what she went through; least she’s actually going out of the house now.

Within the main hall of the estate, a girl with flowing dark brown hair dressed in green army jacket covering a salmon pink dress carefully holds a golden chandelier above her head and hovers it straight up to the roof; keeping her eyes on the top of the decoration as she nears the hook set along the ceiling. Carefully does she weave the top of the chandelier right along the hook and slowly backs away to let the exquisite ornament dangle on its own; its golden finish shimmering against the sunlight that seeps inside. Just as the young lass lets out a relieving sigh from finishing this task, her nerves are wound right back up when hearing Tore echo out: “Got me the good’s Cayenne!” The girl glances back down towards the entrance to the main hall to witness the blue boy run right inside while he asks: “Where ya want em?” “Where do ya think Kingsley said, dumbass? Just hang one of them up at the top of the stairwell.” “On it.” Cayenne giving her these instructions, a pair of white wings sprout out from along his back and ascends straight up to the very top of the twin stairwell; landing right along the very center and scanning length of the roll to try and find where it ends. “Hey uh, I don’t see an end. How do ya open this?” Right as he asks this, the boy manages to find a lone button set along one of the sides and claims that he: “No wait, think I found it.” Pressing this button, Tore watches the whole tapestry roll down from the railing and unravel into a gorgeously sown picture that hangs just above the hall set between the twin staircases.

“Huh. Figure it was gonna be some old family heirloom from like medieval times or something. It don’t look half bad though.” “Does it look alright to you?” Cayenne aggressively questions. Standing behind the stairwell railing does the blue boy peer down to the finely knitted tapestry that he had just freshly rolled out, finding the top to be facing the floor below. “You mean from my perspective or yours?” Upon the indigo angel’s cheeky little comeback, the spice queen can’t help but let out audibly upset gnarl; prompting Tore to correct himself with: “Kidding. Just-just kidding here, kay? Gimme a sec to find the button.” “Nrr. The withdraw feature seriously has one hell of a fuckin kickback. So don’t be acting like such a reckless jackass and just hold-”

Before Cayenne could give anymore words of warning to the blue boy, he manages to find the same button he used to unravel the tapestry and wastes not another moment pressing it. The entire knit work art swiftly rolling right back up and snapping shut as it flings itself into the air; smacking Tore right in the face as he takes off. From the top of the stairwell does the rolled up tapestry careen through the air and straight towards the freshly hung chandelier; the rolled up cloth slamming against the golden decoration hard enough to knock it off the hook and send it plummeting down towards the hard marble tile. In but an instant is the golden chandelier reduced to nothing but pieces that scatter across the floor in a loud crash; both the spice queen and indigo angel hovering down towards the wreckage as Cayenne’s fists violently tremble. “God fucking dammit! What the hell is wrong with-” Before Cayenne could unleash all the enraged fueled screaming and cursing bubbling within, her anger starts to simmer when he finds the blue boy showing signs of growing worry, but rather seemingly on the verge of crying while staring down to the wreckage he caused. Amidst letting loose a short growl does Cayenne instead decide to walk off and simply let the boy be; the spice queen strolling straight down the hallway set along the left. Swear that blue dumbass sometimes just doesn’t fucking listen. Like seriously just pisses away anything ya try and say to him.

While walking through the carpeted hallway, Cayenne witness a lone door set along the side crack open with a young man with orange hair peering out from within and asking: “Just heard a loud crash! Is everything okay!?” “Ain’t anything that bad, Kingsley. Just the blue dumbass out there wound up breaking one of your guys’s chandelier.” A small sigh escapes from the boy genius’s lunges as he is relieved how: “Least nobody got hurt.”

“Kingsley. Get your sweet buns in here and let me finish.” a voice within the room urges. Seeing the boy genius retreat back, Cayenne follows him in to find a flamboyant boy with partially blonde hair dressed around his black haired crown; Kingsley stepping onto a small stool as he asks the boy: “Benji, do we really need to get my measurements now of all times? All of us are in the middle of prepping for a big formal tonight.” “Bay-be, this big party you guys are throwing is about this big young superhero team you all are forming, ain’t it? So you all serious need some uniforms to match the motif, something that just screams iconic to go along with this little league of yours.” Speaking this does the small crystal earring hanging right along the side of his head start to let out a strange sparkle; a roll of measuring tape set along the table behind them hovers in the air and is drawn straight into his hands. As Benji wraps this length of measuring tape around his clients waistline, he hears the boy genius assure how: “Do-don’t get me wrong here. I’m thankful for the help I’m getting in prepping for all this.” “Please, sweetie. Its the least I can do after your mom taught me so much about clothes and armor design. And from the sound of things out there, you need all the help you can get.”

“And speakin of actual needed help, that indigo dumbfuck out there’s already wound up breaking a chandelier, tore up a couple of table clothes, and wound up shattering some glass in the span of like two hours.  Why in the hell are you keeping him around if all he’s gonna do is just wreck shit.” Cayenne gets back on topic with. “Agh….When Mally and the other’s wound up getting back home, she told me all the sort of stuff Tore’s been through these past two and a half weeks.  From the way she put it, it sounds like things got incredibly bad for him on his end too, like something that just tore is soul in half. Figured that giving him something to do would keep his mind off it.” “Not that I don’t sympathize here, but I doubt keeping him workin’s gonna cheer him up all that much. Ya ask me, he needs to sort through all that emotional bullshit.” “I’m sure he will. He just needs some downtime to think things over.”

“Yeah so, how’s that thinking stuff going for you?” the spice queen then questions. “Whaddya mean?” the genius asks. “Y…Yer fuckin with me, right? You and my aunt just came up with this whole club fulla fresh out the pussy heroes ready to shove their feet straight down the forces of evil’s asshole with you at the top and you ain’t even sweating a drop here. Won’t lie here, ballsy, but a little worrying. You feeling okay?” “I’m...still pretty surprised myself. Wonder if all the stuff we went through before hand might’ve prepped me for something this big. Feels like yesterday when we escape that little fortress out in the middle of the tundra, got kidnapped by a gang twice, almost died to Circe, having the whole town come after me in a manhunt, my girlfriend’s dad nearly blowing up the town, my sister getting possessed, my parents souls getting taken…” Among the distant ring running through his head, the sounds around him grow muffled as he himself grows silent; a lone voice pushing through the deafening ring with: “Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley!” The last shout that blurts out from the spice queen manages to snap him straight out from his haunting moment of reflection; the boy genius shaking his head before peering over to Cayenne with: “Di-da-du. My-my point is that with everything we’ve been through these past several month or so, leading a whole generation of new young heroes against the forces of evil should be simple in comparison.” “You sure you’re alright?” “Don’t gotta worry about a thing Cayenne, I’m fine.”

Rising from under them does Benji cut straight between the two to add how: “You know what isn’t so fine? I need to split outta here to snatch up a particular sort of fabric I got in mind for the uniforms, one that they only sell along the east end of Townsville. Gotta make it over before the animals in opening hours grab them.” Right as the fashionable young boy was about to race right out, Benji stops dead in his tracks to turn back and question: “Oh, before I go. What color are you wanting for the uniforms?” “Uh...the logo we got’s purple. Maybe find a shade of that.” Kingsley suggests. “Fantastic choice, I’ll see what I can do sweetie.”

“I seriously can’t believe he’s gonna be in the tech department.” Cayenne disbelieves. “You haven’t seen the kind of high tech state of the art armor he makes.” Kingsley argues. “While were talkin about it. You still haven’t really picked out a supervisor for that branch yet, haven’t you? Ya got me rockin the combat division, your girl on knowledge and info; and for some damn reason, you went ahead and made that pussy little ghost boy head of supernatural.” “Hey, I’ll have you know that Damian’s gotten a lot more brave and bold these past few months; he ain’t even disappearing when he gets slightly anxious.” “But we still ain’t got anyone sitting their ass down on the seat for the tech department. If we plan to announce this whole alt young justice bullshit, then we can’t show up on stage with half a deck here, and with you acting as leader, I doubt that you’ll have time to fill both bottles with piss.” “Yeah, I know. Its why I’ve been looking into a couple of promising people I heard about. Even got Mally suggesting somebody, but I still need to look into them.”

Before the two could speak even another word on the whole matter, the violent sound of a rumbling explosion catches there attention; both of them facing towards the door leading into the hallway; Cayenne barking: “The hell was that?” “Sounds like it came from the front hall, come on!” Kingsley claims as he rushes out the door alongside the spice queen.

Leaping out from the end of the hallway, both of them are left alarmed when greeted by the site of blazing flames enveloping a pair of large flower pots set along the side; the flames threatening to climb up the wall and reach the decorations hanging above. What draws their attention however is the blue boy standing before the blazing pots with bits of cake and candle at around his feet; all the while panicking with: “What do I do!? What do I do!? Why aren’t the water sprinklers going off!?” “Uh. My dad’s been dismantling the sprinkler system so it could deal with electrical fires more effectively.” Kingsley answers. “Well ain’t that fan fucking tastic! How the hell we supposed to put this out!” “I got it.” they hear another voice shout out. Glancing towards the direction of this call do they see the misses of the estate race right in with a fire hose in her hands; the big hipped milf pulling back the lever to unleash a torrent of gushing water. In a matter of moments are the flames threatening to climb the walls of the manner doused by the downpour of water; the gorgeous pot of flowers left under these flames reduced to a charred crisp down to the remains of their petals.

Turning off the flow of water, Kingsley’s mother drops the hose straight down onto the floor before she herself falls to her knee’s; lamenting how: “Those two pots...They were thirty thousand dollars each. There’s no way we could replace them for the formal tonight.” Clutching the blue boy by his shoulder, Cayenne jerks Tore to face her and aggressively claims that: “Ya got ten fucking seconds to say what the hell happened here, else those flowers ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be set ablaze!” “I-I don’t know. I seriously just went to the bathroom for about 3 minutes and when I came back they were on fire.” Pinching one of the frosting covered candles off from the marble tile, the misses of the house looks closely to the soaked party candle and concludes how: “Oh...I think this might be my fault.” “It is?” “Huh?” “Xcuse me? “Let me show you why.” the mother insists.

Through a pair of twin doors, the misses opens up to reveal to them an assortment of sweets and pastries set along the kitchen; most of which of moderate quality, something she explains with: “I don’t really tend to bake all that often, but I wanted to break out the over mitts for this special occasion. I woke up around seven mixing batter, pouring sugar, and laying bread crust all just to make this whole splurge for all the guests that’ll attend.” “Geez, splurge really is an understatement here.” Kingsley comments Among them does Cayenne notice one of the cakes holding several candles having a big chunk broken right off and asks: “Guess this was the little firestarter? The hell happened?” “Oh. It happened when I was pulling out a couple of homemade pies I left in too long out from the over. Part of the baking sheet was stuck on the oven grill and I had to jerk it out. I pulled so hard that I flung both of them through the air; one of them wound up smacking a piece of the cake off and flew straight into the front hall. I saw some of the candles fly off the cake and land right into the pot of flowers; as soon they caught on fire, I raced out toward the nearest fire hose they had. Can’t believe that my baking blunders nearly caught the entire manor on fire.” “Hey, don’t worry about it.” Peering over do all of them see the blue boy scrapping some of the splattered pie off the wall and shoving it straight into his mouth; Tore complimenting how: “This beef pot pie you made ain’t half bad.” “Its supposed to be apple.” the mother replies. After swallowing all that he had shoved in with a single gulp, the indigo angel lets out a little hiss and jest how: “Maybe adding some cinnamon might fix it.” Alas does this little attempt to ease the room only fuel the misses dismay more and have her put her hands against her face, all the while Cayenne shakes her head at him with an upset gaze. “B-but I might be able to fix those flowers.” “Really? How?”Kingsley questions.

Returning to the set of burnt oversized flower pots set along the main hall, the three watch closely as Tore stands before the charred petals; the blue boy’s wings sprouting forth as he takes in a deep breath, From where they watch do Kingsley, Cayenne, and the Misses behold as bits of glimmering color penetrate the walls of the estate to gather into the indigo angel until his figure is coated in a thin layer of lively aura. With the power that he had mustered, Tore thrusts the palms of his hands out towards the two charred remains of flora and cast forth all he had gathered upon them; letting the light that he engulfs them in seep straight into their petals. Yet despite his best efforts to restore the bouquets to their previous natural glory, all the colorful light that seeps into them only manages to bring but a single flower back from its burnt demise; a single flower that blooms among the ruin. “What? Aw…” the angel moan. Beholding the minimal restoration, Cayenne gives a less than sincere applause as she sarcastically praises how: “Wow. What a miracle. Truly the coming of the holy is thy.” Midst her little sarcastic jest does she feel Kingsley elbow jab her side, causing her to stop her little insincere praise. Approaching one of the burnt pots herself, Kingsley’s mother reaches out to the freshly revived flower and plucks it out from its scorched others; beholding the colorful sheen shimmering along the flora’s restored petals.

“Hey, don’t sweat about it, Tore. They’re just a bunch of flowers, nothin too important.” the boy genius attempts to comfort with. “But I was looking to bring both pots back to life. God, I can’t get anything right today.” the indigo angel claims. “That’s a fuckin understatement.” the spice queen whispers under her breath. “How bout not worrying so much about the décor. The party doesn’t start til later tonight. I’m sure we can handle it.” Kingsley suggests. “Well, what’s that leave me to do?” “Uh...Ya know, there’s gonna be a good dozens of people that are attending this little party, some of them pretty important guests of honor. Some of the catering servants we usually got to handle all that are taking their vacation days. Maybe you could help keep the party going, make sure everyone’s having a good time, refreshments aren’t running out, just miscellaneous stuff.” “And not to be a complete fuck up while yer at it.” Cayenne rudely adds.

Upon that very moment do the front doors swing right open, revealing the very fashionista himself strolling straight in with a bounce in his step; claiming to them all: “Well if that’s the case, it’d pain me to see him going around catering in those rags.” “Its been like 20 minutes, how the hell are you back already?” Cayenne wonders aloud. “What’s wrong with what I got on now?” Tore question. “You’re joking, sweetheart. Just look at the poor thing.” From the designers words does the blue boy peer down to his short sleeved white blazer, looking to the numerous stains, burns, tears, wrinkles, and stretches littered across its once pure white fabric. “It’d be a downright felony to have you serve wearing that mess. Come. I shall sow you a suit worthy to match.” Benji exclaims, grasping the blue boy by the collar and dragging him down the hall. “Well, with half of the treats ruined. I better get back to baking before the party starts this evening. I just hope that I don’t wind up making another mess like that again.” the mother claims as she retreats back towards the kitchen.

With both of them left along with one another, the spice queen strolls over to Kingsley side and once again asks him: “Hey, you sure can handle all this?” “Um- of course I can. I’m sure when Renee and Damian get here, things should be smooth sailing from then on.” “With the kinda shit that goes on with all of us, it’ll be a hell of a miracle if it does” Cayenne comments as she walks off. As his spicy pal floats off out from the main hall, Kingsley is left alone with nothing but some new thoughts running through his head; pondering on Cayenne’s very words.

Several hours pass as the afternoon clear blue is replaced by the twinkling night sky that hangs above the entire  city, the lunar glow of the half moon shinning down onto the manor and reflecting off the roof of the dozens of vehicles that pull into the massive driveway. Stepping out from these vehicles to an array of people that stroll through the driveway to the manor front doors; some dressed fancy while other’s dress more casually as they enter the estate. Beside the front doors are a pair of door keeps that kindly greet the numerous guests that enter with: “Evening folks.” “How are you doing?” “Welcome to the estate.” “Hope you have a pleasant time.” “Please direct yourselves to the main hall.” These very guests step through inside to behold the Spicer manor’s main hall to be decorated with numerous finely woven tapestries,  towering statues, lines of pots filled with flowers, and paintings depicting family and friends. Set along the sides of the main hall be the catering platter holdings small portions of meat, cheeses, crackers, punch, some alcohol, even some of the humbly made cakes and pastries that the Mrs had made.

Along the side of this grand hall, the blue boy himself peeks out from the dark recesses of the left hallway and beholds the numerous guests that fill the main hall and slowly spread themselves out through the abode; a small anxious breath escaping from his bit lip as he stares to them all. Don’t think about what happened then, Tore. It’s a new night. New moment. You’ll get yer mind off what happened then in no time. Just focus on what your friends are counting on ya for and play the servant. Circulating these thoughts through his head does the indigo angel finally steps out from the hallway darkness and right into the light of the main hall, letting the light hit his suit of deep indigo blue complimented with an undercoat and cuffs of silk white. His blue main held into a short ponytail that dangles behind the crown of his head.

From the side of the hall, the finely dressed blue boy makes his way straight to the platter table and swipes a silver platter filled with small little meats and snacks; the angel’s eyes glued to the treats as he attempts to hold back the chance to dunk them all down his gullet. Snap outta it, man. These ain’t made for you, these’r for the guest. Just hold the platter above your head and try not to look at the delicious cheese, warm moist meats, and savory salty crackers together in cute little sandwiches… After taking a moment to shake off the temptation, the blue boy strolls away from the food table and ventures out towards the guest further off; holding off even taking so much as a glance at the food he delivers.

From the platter table, the blue suited boy strolls over to a couple of guest enjoying the party and attempts to lower the tray in his hands down to present them the selection of snacks;  only to wind up accidentally bumping the silver tray into their side and nearly spilling the goods. Before all the little sandwiches could smack against the guest, the indigo angel manages to slide them back onto the tray in the nick of time; swiftly offering them in a sort of faux innocent manner with: “Snacks?” Despite his little blunder, the guests swipe some of the little treats right off the plate with some hints of offense; Tore soon strolling off towards the dozens of other party goers while attempting to keep what remained of the food he carries on the silver plate.

Perched atop the manor’s front hall stairwell, Kingsley keeps his eyes peering down to the numerous guests partaking in the parties pleasantries below; all of them sipping wine, eating little sandwiches, and generally mingling among each other. Just look at all of them down there. Wonder what they’re even expecting outta all this...out of all of us...They’re expecting someone who can lead the this new team to keep the peace, to fight off the forces of evil. What if we can’t...What if I’m not-

Among his thoughts of doubting self reflection, a familiar voice cuts through and snaps him back to reality as he hears: “Hey, Kingsley.” “Jolting out from his thoughts does the boy genius swiftly turn around towards second floor hall to discover his supporting blonde, Renee, approaching; the girl’s eyes reflecting a distinct worry as she asks him: “Is everything okay?” “Oh. Y-yeah, everything’s fine. I just really didn’t expect so many people to show up.” “What exactly did you expect after the announcement of the Vanguard League a week ago? Everyone here’s practically looking forward to see the impression of this new teams leader. Why don’t you go down there and mingle a bit?” Upon his girl suggesting such, Kingsley constantly shifts his eyes about as if searching for way out, stuttering out how: “Uh-uh-uh...Ma-maybe not now; the party just started. They should get some time to enjoy themselves. Besides, you really want me to go down there looking like this? An occasion like this calls for more formal wear. Let me just get dressed in the suit I got in my closet.” Watching her boy race walk right past and head straight down the second floor hallway, a stark worry is reflected in the smart blondes eyes as he watches the boy genius retreat into the depths of the hall.

Slowing his walk down to a simple wander, Kingsley takes in small, calming breaths as he travels further into the decedent hall, constantly shifting his head back and forth from his front and back. As he peers back to the hallway he strolls through, a lone figure suddenly rises up from the carpeted floor before him; the boy genius nearly falling back from the unexpected visit. After keeping himself from falling right on his ass, Kingsley starts to calm himself when realizing it only be his friend, Damian; the boy apologizing with: “Oh! Sorry for popping in so suddenly like that...You feeling alright? I mean I know I kinda scared you, but you just seem so tense.” “Yeah. Just feeling a tad nervous about the party here.” “Believe me, you ain’t the only one here. When you suggested for me to be the head of the Supernatural department, I seriously nearly fainted hearing you say that. I really didn’t know what to think. But afterwards, I took some time to process all of it, and I realized how honored I was that you would choose me of all people to help you run something this huge. I’m still feeling a little tingly to be honest.” “Really? How exactly did you process all that?” “I just simply thought of all my loved one’s who I would make proud, all the people who’ll look to me for guidance, all the other’s that’ll count on us to be the mainline defense against this new budding evil. You know, given everything else we’ve tackled together, I started to understand why you thought there would be no one else better for the job.” “Hmm…” “I think I should go down there and introduce myself to all the guest that came to see us. Why don’t you just take a little bit of time to think things over and come down when you’re ready. Alright?” “Yeah. I might do just that.” Having given this tidbit of advice to his friend, Damian hovers out towards the direction the boy genius had came from; leaving Kingsley with all these newfound thoughts running through his head.

Back within the downstairs kitchen, Tore finishes pouring out several glasses of wine set along a silver platter; the blue boy setting the wine bottle aside and very slowly lifts the plate off the table; careful not to spill a single drop as he carries them all out. Out from the kitchen twin doors, the indigo angel first strolls over to a couple of gents and ladies; presenting the freshly poured wine and offering with: “Refreshments?” “Oh, delightful.” “Choice.” “Fine and Dandy.” “Thank you, young man.” After serving to the more fancy folk, Tore ventures over to some dressed in more casual wear; offering them the drinks with: “Some wine?” “Thanks there.” “Nice.” “About time they got drinks out.” With but half of the refreshments having been taken, the blue boy starts to venture out towards the other side of the hall; careful with what wine he still had atop the platter he carried. Got those, now just to see if some of the other guests along the east wing want anything like some refills or snacks or-

Amidst this thought does he fail to see where he walks and bumps right into one of the guests; all the wine glasses he had been carrying spilling right onto the floor as both of them fall. “Ah, jeez. That’s coming out of the paycheck.” Tore comments as he starts to pull himself back up. Glancing over does he see another having fallen onto the floor and rush straight over to help the finely ruby red dressed woman a hand; apologizing to her with: “So sorry about that.” Taking the boy’s hand, the blue boy pulls her back on her feet; the pinkish red young lady looking to the boy with her three eyes and implores that: “I’m the one that should be sorry. I seriously wasn’t looking here I was going.” “That makes two of us then.” he rebuttals, the two of them sharing a little bit of a laugh between them. “So, you enjoying the party so far?” the blue boy then asks. “Oh, absolutely. The people up here have been so nice and friendly; never thought that life out here would be so much different up here.” “Up here? You come from down south?” “Oh, way down south.” the young lady answers. “Guess that’s two for two we got here. I came from up North, all the way up to the country of Maple leaves and pine tree’s. Winter’s up there a little too cold, but other than that, it was a real nice place to live at. Bet you don’t gotta worry about winter’s down there, do ya?” “Oh hardly. You’d be hard pressed to find even a little tiny flake of snow drop down where I’m from.” “Really? You even seen snow before?” “Of course I’ve seen snow silly. I’ve seen a lot more places that have a lot more to offer then that.” “Hey, I’ve done some big traveling around pretty recently, even to some places that ain’t really nice and neat; still, fun memories...mostly fun. From the way you’re putting it, sounds like she’s got some good stories stashed in that head of yours.” “Oh sure. Though I doubt I’d seen as much as my dad; he’s been practically everywhere. You should really come meet him.” “Ah what the hell. Seems like everyone here’s served pretty well. 10 minute break wouldn’t hurt. Name’s Tore.” “Vera, Vera Lucitor.” the girl introduces with a curtsy as both her and the suited blue boy both stroll along the halls past the numerous other guests and head straight out to the west wing of the hall.

Out along the east side of the hall, Damian waves goodbye to a couple of guests as he floats away; to which he feels somebody grasp his shoulder with: “Hey listen.” Jolting back from ho had grabbed him, the ghost boy calms himself when seeing it to be the spice queen herself; Damian noting: “Well, this is certainly a surprise. Hard to believe you came down here on you’re own. You usually don’t enjoy associating with the more fancy folk.” “You kidding. I hate this fucking uptight shit. Came down here looking for Kingsley. He said he’d be down here in a minute.” “How strange. I just ran into in a couple minutes ago. He said he was rather nervous about the party, so I thought he should take a minute to himself.” “That’s not what he told me.” A third voice chimes in with. Peering out from the crowd beside them do the two witness Renee approach them, continuing to state how: “He told me he was going to change into a suit.” “Really. Might be possible that he’s just doing all three at once.” the ghost boy guesses. “Still, it ain’t like him to mix his story up that much. Maybe we should give him a ring, see what’s going on with him.” Cayenne suggests. “I tried that already; didn’t get a single answer. You think something might be going on with him?” “I’m not too sure. Maybe we should try finding him and find out what’s going through his head.” the ghost boy offers. “Might not be a bad idea. How bout you go search upstairs while Renee and I stay down here in case he comes back down.” This little search party set up, Damian hover straight up through the second floor, leaving the girls to start their search up through the first.

While strolling through the west corridor leading down towards the west hallway, both the indigo angel and young lady continue to chatter among themselves over the numerous adventures that both of them had; Vera continuing off with: “I still remember my trip down in the Hydro kingdom. All the water Nymph’s I met were so nice down there; even offering us tools that let us breathe underwater to take in the sites of their ocean. Just so many beautiful sites I wish I could’ve taken pictures off. They’re cities were lovely sites too, just decorated with jewels, seashells and gold. And the cuisine, never in my life did I taste sea food so delectable.” “Sounds real fun. I remember when my family went down to the middle of the bahama’s for a vacation and we wound up having to fight back against a raging forest beast that was kidnapped people left and right, including our mom. So Roy, Mally, and I went through the woods and fighting this massive monster the size of a giant mound. After punching a part of its shell clean off, we manage to wind up beating it down and send it running right off; setting all the people it kidnapped free. After that, the town we were staying at went and gave us a banquet to celebrate. Think Mally might’ve vomited after finding out a dish she ate had lizard testicles in it. I still remember her beating Roy upside the head as he was laughing over it. Can’t lie, almost bust out giggling myself just watching it all.” “I figured you didn’t cut it as a servant all that well; but I didn’t really think you’d be such a natural warrior like my mom. I’ve seen her in the depths of combat outnumbered, armed with but a single sword; the best I could compare the way she fights is with the grace and elegance of the wind itself.” “Funny. Most of my friends say I fight with all the grace of an overly tipsy Irishman drunkard’s worst nightmare. Guess they mean I can take a lot of hits and still keep on brawlin. Like I seriously remember this one time I got stabbed in the stomach and I was still swinging.” “Really? What sort of teacher did you have to help develop that sort of resilience?” “I can thank my Bosnia war vet grandma taking both Roy and I in for one summer. She really knew how to take a dirty bomb and somehow hit back ten times as hard.” “Sounds like she has a lot more in common with my dad than anyone else I know.” “What’s he like?” “He’s pretty much a clean cut and kind sort of man. Though I won’t lie that the few times he loses his temper can be pretty explosive.”

When finally venturing out from the corridor and entering the west hall, Vera peers through the crowd set before them and states how: “I think I can see my family from over here.” “Which one are they?” the blue boy questions as he gazes out through the crowd. “They’re the couple with the toddler in the woman’s arms.” This little detail given, Tore manages to spot the very woman donning a blood red dress holding a little tike with horns dressed in a little suit in her arms; all with a horned man with three fiery red eyes standing beside them both. “Hey, I think I...think I...Oh…” A sense of overwhelming dread begins to slowly settle in the boy’s stomach when he realizes why all of them look so very familiar, drips of sweat beginning to run through his head as he peeks over to the young woman beside him, the last pieces of the puzzle clicking in his mind. The memories of traversing through hell’s very keep and facing their king still fresh on his mind.

While the indigo angel is left utterly horrified upon these newfound realizations, the young woman beside her starts to skip over towards her family and waving to them with: “Hi everyone!” “Vera. How are you liking the party so far?” her mother in the blood red dress asks. “It’s going so wonderfully thus far.” “I am rather curious of what this New Vanguard league has to make of itself. The bold confidence to lead through danger is something not many can hold.” her demonic father states. “And speaking of new faces. I just got done chatting with a quite interesting gent who’s told me tales of his exploits set though his numerous journey’s. I wish to introduce you all to this boy named Tor-” Vera attempts to introduce, only to turn around to find nobody waiting beside her. Peering through her surroundings, she attempts to spot the very boy in question; swearing to her family how: “Huh? Strange. He was just right beside me.” Peering out towards the direction his daughter had come from, the horned father gazes outwards to notice a figure of indigo blue hurrying through the corridor leading to the main entrance hall; a rather suspicious glare set within his three eyes.

Racing out from the hallway and across the main hall, a myriad of panicking thoughts race through the blue boy’s mind as he dart straight towards the other side; disregarding every single guest that calls for his assistance. “Say, could I get I refill?” “Are there any more snacks?” “Excuse me. Do you know where the bathroom might be?” Why is he here!? Why is did the king of hell gotta come up here tonight of all nights, at this place of of all places!? And of course the girl with three eyes is her dad, so obvious. Should’ve realized it sooner. You think any of them would’ve recognize who their daughter was talking to? Know the mom probably would. The face of someone who broke into yer baby’s room is one that your never gonna forget. Wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d pull out long sharp blade and finish her castration appointment on the spot. Okay, think Tore. What’s your best bet on slipping outta here? Can’t just barge out, it’d cause too much noise. Maybe hiding somewhere til the parties over? Nah, Kingsley and the other’s are gonna want an explanation. They might be able to help though. Sure Kingsley could think of a plan involving a fake mustache and a slightly understandable foreign accent...or would that be too racist?

Opening one hallway door after another, both Cayenne and Renee peer into every room they come to; all the while calling to their friend with: “Kingsley?” Cracking open one room, the blonde sees nothing but darkness wafting within the bathroom; not even a single figure hidden among the shadows. “Kingsley?” Swinging open another door, the spice queen peers into every corner of the decked out lounge, only to find no one held within. “Kingsley?”

Meeting up with one another, the very first thing that Renee asks Cayenne is: “No luck on your end either?” “Afraid not. Where the hell could be possibly be hiding? Swear to fucking god if he wound up bailing…” “That’s not like him though. This isn’t like him. He wasn’t that skiddish about being the teams leader a couple days ago. You think the pressure might be just now setting in?” “With all the damn organizing he’s been doing keeping him busy, I wouldn’t be shocked if it did. Can’t help but wonder what sort of shit he’s been dealing with right now.” “Guys!” the both then hear from across the hall, the familiar voice making the spice queen let out a “so done with this shit” breath. “And speaking of having to deal with bullshit.”

Gazing out towards the direction of the hysterical screaming, both girls behold the blue boy himself sprinting through hallway like a maniacal marathon man; his arms flailing about as he races right towards the both. Right before the indigo angel could run right into them, Cayenne reaches over and clutches Tore right by his face; the Spice Queen tossing the boy back onto the carpeted floor. As they watch the blue boy arise off the scarlet red carpeting, Cayenne then questions: “Alright; what the hell sort of fucked up brain hemorrhage are you suffering from now to race through the hallway like a screaming jackass?” “We need to get everyone the heck outta here pronto! The king of hell himself is in the building!” Tore warns. “Yeah? He’s a part of the guest list, dumbass.” the spice queen answers. “What!? But why!?” “The underworlds Royal family are famous not just as celebrities, but also for the diplomatic work in multicultural relations. They could give the league a vast network of connections if we manage to impress the king.” Renee elaborates. “They’re serious here just to chill and mingle. That’s it. Why the hell are you freaking the fuck out so much?” Cayenne questions.

“Ahh...S-So, Mally told you all about the trip I took with Mall, right?” Tore starts to explain with. “Yeah…” Cayenne confirms. “And about the Halo’s that we needed to collect to get the warpgate to work better.” “The hell’s your point?” “Well, one of those rings we had to get was stashed underneath the Lord of Hell’s castle.” “You fucking didn’t.” “Yeah...And while I broke into their home and swipe the Halo from under them. I might have wound up breaking into their young son’s room and scarring him, nearly got my balls cut off by the queen, bust through a couple of their walls, had Mall mow down a good chunk of his forces outside...And to escape, we had to work together to beat the Kings into an unconscious mess. Th-that-that’s all, really.” Both girl are left unsurprisingly astonished with all the blue boy said he had done underneath the king of hell’s own roof; Renee pleading to tell her that: “Please tell me you’re not serious.” “Augh…Sounds pretty bad saying it all out loud, don’t it?” the indigo angel admits. Upon having heard all of this, a small chuckle is all that could escape from the Spice queen’s mouth before she starts to stroll off and mention how: “Whelp. It’s been a hell of a ride knowing ya.”

“Guys, come on! Don’t make me beg here! If I winds up getting caught out in the middle of this party, the devil that’s among us’ gonna have his Kybr hide roast to a delicious crisp served neatly with a side of gravy coated mashed potato’s and freshly salted stuffing.” Despite the blue boy’s desperate plea, Cayenne continues to head down through the hall; only stopping when hearing Renee claim how: “Cayenne. We’re in the midst of forming out own superhero team, so dealing with situations like this is gonna be something on the clock.” “Oh come the hell on, Renee. Why the hell do we gotta stick our necks out for a guy that brought all this shit on himself.” “Because that’s something that heroes do.” The blonde reminding her of such, a frustrated sigh escapes from the spice queen’s lips as she starts to return to their side and mentions how: “It’s shocking how I’m not used to this shit.”

“So, any idea’s?” Tore asks them both. “Think the best thing to do is to call Damian and have him whisk you away. All with no one being the wiser.” the blonde first suggest. “Not a bad idea there. Just gimme a sec.” the spice queen compliments while pulling out her phone from her pocket. After fidgeting with her phone for a brief moment, the spice queen puts it up to her ear and hears the tone ring; waiting as the tone keeps repeating and repeating in her ear. Alas does the tone simply redirect straight to his voicemail, Cayenne putting her phone away as she curses out: “God dammit! Did he leave his phone at home again?” “What now?” the indigo angel questions. “Whelp, with the phoning in option gone. I’ll have to buckle down and try and find the pissy little ghost boy myself. Renee, get this dumb blue bastard some new digs to cover up with while I try and look for him.” the spice queen commands as she glides through the hallway. “Wait, what should I try and do while and she’s gone...Great…” “So, do I gotta return the suit?” Tore questions, Renee taking her glasses off to pinch the top of her nose.

Along the corridors upstairs, Damian phases through every wall and every door in his way whilst searching for the boy genius himself, flying through bathrooms, bedrooms, and lounges as he constantly calls out with: “Kingsley? Kinglsey? Where are you?” Oh lord, just where the heck could that boy possibly be? But it really isn’t like him to hide the truth like this? Why would he not tell us anything? Does he not want any of us to worry about him? Is he ashamed of have second thoughts? If I had know that being the team leader was what really was on his mind, we could’ve talked things through, let him know that he ain’t alone on all this.  Let’s just hope that he’s not feeling unsure enough to do anything drastic.

“I’m not really so sure about this. You really think this might fool anybody.” the indigo angel claims, gazing to himself in a full body mirror while donning a gorgeous indigo blue short gown; its sheen finish reflecting the light of the room. “I’m exactly sure about that; but with how urgent this is and with what little time we got, there really isn’t that much other options to work with. Besides, this was the only dress she could find around here that would look good on you.” the blonde beside him states, applying eye shadow of a similar color. “Never thought I’d look that gorgeous in a dress. The fabric and eye shadow compliments my hair amazingly. I can kinda see why Roy likes doing this sometimes.” “I only wish I had more time to work, but the guests outside are gonna want to know what I was doing this whole time; so this quick little revamp is gonna have to work for now.”

Tore’s visual transformation finally finished, the blue boy strikes a sassy pose as he admires himself in the mirror; Renee admitting: “I didn’t really expect you to have that sort of figure. It really work.” “It does, don’t it. So what sort of escape route ya got in the works?” “Hmm. Front door is obviously out; some people might see through the ruse. Going through a window might just seem conspicuous.” “Can’t exactly fly out, either. With wings as bright as mine, people are gonna see me fluttering out in the night…Didn’t exactly see anyone going to the garden. You think with this sort of party, it be pretty crowded.” “I think Kingsley mentioned something about a problem with the garden water sprayers and the fountain. With nobody around, it might just serve as the perfect escape route; just go through, jump over the fence and run through town to get back home.” Renee plans through. “Sounds like we got a plan here. Though I might need another to explain to my mom why I’m coming home in this.” “Hmm...Pulling it off this well, I’m not sure she’ll see a problem.” “True.”

Along the left side of the main manor hall, the pair peek out from the shroud of darkness set along the west hallway corridor; both of them beholding the numerous party goers mingling among one another, all while a few other servant race around tending to their requests. Pouring drinks, serving snacks, all the things that Tore himself was tasked with. “Hmm, seems pretty okay to me. Don’t see a pair of horns anywhere in site.” “Most of the manor’s first floor looks pretty packed with guests; that except for the kitchen over there. That’d make a good midpoint between the front and back halls.” Renee elaborates. “Let’s just hope that the king’s family haven’t split up; if any of them recognize who I am, might as well be dead on the spot.”

The first part of their little escape route planned out before them, both the blonde and crossdressing angel emerge out from the hallway and brave ahead through the front manor hall; weaving through the numerous guests and few servants that shuffle among eachother. “Excuse me.” Renee apologize as she swerves through the crowd. “Pardon me, good sir.” Tore says, attempting to put on the best ladylike impression he can. “Sorry.” “Just need to get through, so sorry.” “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” “I love the suit you got on, is it silk?”

All seems to be going rather smoothly as the two of them make their way towards the pair of twin doors leading into the kitchen; Renee whispering to the blue boy she leads: “Almost there. Once we get into the kitchen, we’ll figure out a way from there.” “Yeah, thanks for all the-” Right in the midst of thanking the blonde for her gracious assistance through this predicament, the blue boy then feels something tug on the back of his dress; Tore glancing back for his hopeful expression to shatter when finding that something to be the very young lad of the hellish royal family himself gazing up to him. “Oh lord.” Tore utters. “What is it?” Peering back herself is Renee alarmed to see the devilish horned little tike smiling up to them with a precious grin; that weariness setting into maximum overdrive when hearing a woman close by call out with: “Issac! Where are you sweetie?” In a matter of just seconds do the two witness the human queen of hell herself cut through the crowd as she starts to strolling over to her lost little child; Tore’s eyes shifting about in a panic as he tries to come up with something with just seconds to act. With not many options to work with, Tore grabs hold of the blond beside her and shoves her gently in front of the little horned baby boy; the blonde whispering to him: “What are you doing!?” “Keep’em busy!” the indigo angel feverishly requests as he retreats out in the opposite direction.

While the blue boy heads out behind her, Renee peers back just in time to face her majesty approaching and scooping her little boy in her arms; the little tike letting out a little cute giggle while his mother thanks the blonde with: “Oh, I can’t thank you enough for finding him for me. the boy can get really rambunctious and slips away from time to time to chew on stuff.” “Uh-R-really. How old is he?” Renee responds to her with. “Little bitty Issace here just turned two, those little horns of his just grew in about five months ago.” “Ha ha ha ha, sounds like he can be an adorable little trouble maker, can he? I wonder what having him for a brother wound be like?” the blonde girl jests, slightly peering out towards one of the golden statues set behind the mother. Within the shimmering statue’s reflection can she see the blue boy she had been escorting slip through the crowd and head straight through the doors leading straight into the kitchen; a slightly relieved breath escaping from between her lips as she hears the queen herself ask: “So what pray tell are you planning on the future for this Vanguard league.” “Uh, well. We already have most of the leader division seats filled. It won’t be long before we manage to find the last one to fill in.”

Back upstairs does Damian continue to phase through every single room set along the floor, searching for even a single sign of the boy genius among them; all the while he continues to call out to him with: “Kingsley, where are you. All of us are getting worried here.” “Where the hell are you mopping, dammit!?” he hears a familiar voice crassly shout out for. Phasing straight through a couple more rooms, the ghost boy peeks right through a door to discover the voice belonging to the Spice queen herself roaming through the hallway; Damian grabbing her attention by asking: “Cayenne, you’ve had any luck in finding Kingsley?” “You mean you haven’t sussed him out yet?” Cayenne questions in return. “Oh, I tried. Believe me have I tried. I’ve phased straight into every single room, nook, cranny, and closet set throughout this floor; and not once did I see even a single orange hair of his. I just don’t know where else to look.” “Hmm...Think I might know where he’s hiding. The one place he always goes to think to himself or cry, often times both.”

Within the dark recesses of secret storage space lies dozens of miscellaneous toys, tools, portraits, clothing, and numerous boxes that hold more than meets the eye; some of the contents within threatening to overflow and spill out onto the dust ridden floorboards. Suddenly does a random stack of boxes begin to tremble from something shaking underneath; the grunts of the ghost boy all that manages to make it through as he struggle to open the door held under these boxes. “It’s all too heavy.” “For fuck’s sa- Just lemme try.” “Wait, I think I can-” In a single instant are all the boxes set over the trap door sent flying through the dusty air as the way is flung right open; the light from the hallway downstairs flooding the space as Cayenne hovers up; Damian phasing straight through the floor beside her as pieces of junk rain down. “What’s so wrong about simply me phasing through the floor?” “Where’s the hell’s the fun in that?”

Its then that the two then hear a brief shaking sigh sound off from across the space; Cayenne strolling over to the side to flip a switch; the light bulb above illuminating the entire attic and finally discover the boy genius himself huddled in the dusty corner, his head buried in his knee’s. “Kingsley? Are you okay?” Damian questions as he hovers over to him, only for his words to go unanswered in place of some light sobbing. “Dude, the hell is up with you?” Cayenne then joins in with as she walks closer. “Am I good enough?” both of them hear the boy utter out. “Come again.” “Am I the right sort of person for this kind of job? To lead an entire team of young budding heroes against rising evil, an evil that we must keep at bay else the people I sworn to protect risk being hurt or worse. And all the other’s that will have to look to me for guidance, all of them hinging on my every word for hope and inspiration...I-I didn’t really didn’t put it into perspective much before tonight; but now that I am, that sort of overwhelming pressure and responsibility, its... What if I do something wrong, something I can’t go back to and fix. Like send a bunch of young heroes to their deaths. Wind up making a mistake that cost dozens upon dozens of people their lives. Something that could very well change the course of history for the worse. I wouldn’t know how to fix that; or even if it could be at all.” Such unrelenting worries spiraling through his mind cause the nervous young man to quake in his boots as bouts of sweat run down through his skin; his friends before him looking to Kingsley with great concern.

Down along the back hall of the main floor, the blue boy dressed in silky indigo peeks out from the kitchen twin doors and gazes out past the numerous guests enjoying the spread out platters of cake and meat entree’s to find the glass sliding door leading to the backyard. Hung on the handle of the sliding door was a single dangling sign; one that read out that: “Due to plumbing maintenance issues. Entry into the backyard garden is prohibited. (Yes, again.)” The moment of truth. A little further through the minefield and it’ll be home free from then on out. Just gotta not mess this up.

This little self motivational pep talk going through his head, the finely dressed indigo angel emerges out from the kitchen and blends into the fancy dinning crowd like a serpent through the bushes; slithering through the numerous guests and party goers that enjoy their meals and snacks. In his little sneak out through the back dinning hall is his attention drawn out to the side, his pupils growing when beholding the incredible platter spread out along the length of a table set along the side; all the little sausages, salamis, cracker sandwiches, cakes, fruits, pieces of stake. Eh, maybe a little bit on the way out wouldn’t hurt.

Strolling right over to the table filled with delectable little treats, Tore wastes not a second partaking in the wonderful spread set before him; some he shovels straight into his mouth while others he indiscreetly stashes away in the breast of his dress. This might as well as count as a whole dinner and dessert. Midst his little picking platter detour towards the exit, he fails to see where he was sidestepping and winds up bumping right into someone and fall right onto the floor; wiping off some of the food that splattered onto him while claiming that: “Ah, sorry. Didn’t really see-” The indigo angel quickly snaps silent when glancing over to who he had just bumped into and discovers that somebody to be coincidentally the very same demon princess he had ran into before, parts of her dressed stained with steak grease. “No. I should be sorry. I-” Vera attempts to retort with, but stops speaking when peering over to find no one before her; swiping off some of the food that got on her as she rises confused. Glancing around to figure out who she might’ve ran into, the princess fails to notices a couple of feet sliding straight underneath the tablecloth; the indigo angel keeping his mouth shut tight as he crawls along towards the other side of the platter table.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” a voice questions. Gazing over to her side, the demon princess finds her father walking over to her side; Vera answering him on how: “Oh, I’m just fine dad.” “Did you simply just trip?” “No, I...I thought I just bump into someone. But I’m not sure who, or even what. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find a soul.” As her daughter explains this, the king’s eyes venture out towards the very back of the room; where a lone figure with matching indigo hair and dress slithers out from the dining hall and straight into the backyard garden. His eyes squinting as a sense of familiarity starts to creep upon him.

“Why did you decide to try and hide up here and not talk to us.” Damian questions, staring to his friend huddled in the corner. “How could I even start? Having been appointed the leader of the Vanguard league about a week ago and now of all times in the middle of an introduction party are doubts and pressure starting to set in; how are people gonna look seeing me like that? I supposed to be the spearhead against rising evil, but they haven’t even properly formed the team yet I’m already shaking?...I’m not so sure now if they made the right choice putting him in charge.” Kingsley worries. “That ain’t the kinda shit I seen you do.” he hears the spice queen pierce through with. “What are you alluding to?” “The hell I’m saying his that we’ve been dragged through all sorts of bull, and every single time we’re drowning in the absolute worst piss, that carrot top ya got for a head goes into overdrive to get us out. All the kids Circe had kidnapped, Renee’s dad nearly blowing up the city, everyone’s souls getting fucking ganked; even when you’re knocked outta the game, the work ya put in gets us all so damn far. I’m not fucking with you when I say I think we’d all be long dead if you weren’t there covering our asses.” Hearing this coming from his friends causes him to cease quaking in his boots and start to stand back up; lifting his head up to theirs and questioning with a slight smile if: “You really mean that?” “We seriously couldn’t think of anyone better for the job if you left.” Damian assures him.

Out behind the Spicer manor, Tore ventures through the garden in his efforts to distance himself from the party as far as he could on foot; his eyes glued to the brick wall set along the very end of the garden as he weaves around and hopes over several dug up pipes among the garden path. Just several more meters and over the wall, this whole night’ll just be a thing of the past; just another wacky and cooky night of cross dressing shenanigans full of comedic close calls and socially awkward misunderstandings. Just the usual teenage dramatic comedy happy hour on whatever the heck channel or streaming service even airs those anymore. Wonder if I should keep the dress?

Alas, before the finely dressed blue boy could bound right atop the wall, Tore peers his eyes right along the top and screeches dead in his tracks; his pupils shrinking as he slowly starts to waddle back as he beholds the very king of demons staring down upon him. Oh...oh no. “To think, after you and your partners transgressions, you decide to nest right above my kingdom. Foolishly wondering about as if I would not seek justice. After all that you two have done; breach my kingdom’s abode, destroy my forced, threaten my family; the tormentous pits of the damned would be but a mercy. Instead, I shall carry your execution out myself; engulf your entire being in the depths of my scorching pyres until nothing remains of you in this world. Not even a single piece of your soul.” Promising such to the indigo angel under him does the demonic king leap down from the top of the brick wall and land before the blue boy; the earth quaking in a glowing hellish red as his feet stamp onto the ground.

Everyone in the manor sitting behind them stop right where they stand and gaze about to wonder what’s causing the commotion; some of them falling on their asses while the trembling shakes the entire estate. Within the attic above does Kingsley nearly plummet down into a display of pointy figurines, Damian catching him before he could fall right into a single figure. “What the fuck is that?” Cayenne exclaims. “It sounds like it’s coming from outside.” Kingsley answers.

Erecting out from the cracks of this trembling earthquake be a shell of unholy red power with patches of brimstone covering its surface; threatening to encase both the king of demon’s and the indigo angel within. The blue boy rockets up in a frantic hurry to outrace the forming barrier in hopes of escaping; his hopes dashed when the spherical prison encloses at the top and cuts off the angel’s escape. Slamming right into the top of the cage does its inner layer let out a violent pulse of orange red that sends Tore plummeting back down towards the garden earth; crashing straight down into the concrete set before the cages very conjurer.

Outside this newly formed prison do most of the guests that dwell inside the manor all look out through every glass door and window they could see from, including the king’s own daughter; who attempts to reach out to him with: “Dad, what are you doing!?” Yet do the princess’s words fail to bait even a single bit of the demon’s attention as he keeps his sites to the angel rising before him; his majesty swinging his open palm upwards to let a geyser of hellfire erupt right underneath the boy and launching him up in enveloping flames.

Among the crowd watching the chaos unfold before them, the queen herself manages to squeeze herself through the other guest with her young baby boy in her arms; peering upwards to the figure her husband had just set alight. All of them behold as the scorching blaze that engulfs the boy above is dispersed all at once as the boy’s angelic white wings sprout forth from his backside; his facade having been burned away to reveal the angel underneath. Most of his dress covering his upper torso destroyed, the make up covering his face chipping off under the heat, and the band holding his hair burned away and letting his indigo blue mane flow out; all of these details together giving the queen the answer of who he really was. “...Him! That little miscreant! He’s the exact same boy who broke into our home and terrorized out baby boy.” In listening to that single realization is the crowd around her left utterly astonished, some of them gasping while others say among themselves how: “Did that really happen?” “I heard recently that the royal family’s home was attacked.” “Can’t believe somebody would try and scare poor Issac like that.” “What a little blue asshole.” “Hope the king lights this little marauder aflame!” Soon enough is the entire spectating crowd riled up into a maddening cheer, their numerous praises and encouragements coming out from their mouth being for the king to beat the little blue punk into a sobbing mess. Agh, great. Not only am I gonna die, I’ll go down in history as the jackass that deserves it…Maybe I just had this coming. Peering down to the demon king himself, Tore could see the blazing fury held within his very eyes; a wave of hellfire beginning to erupt from his entire body. Whelp, if I’m going out like this, better get as much fun outta it as I can.

Upon the realization of there being little way out of this predicament, indigo angel quickly decides to start off by delving straight down to where the fiery king stood; constantly flipping through the air as he plummets downwards with but a single leg sticking out. Right as the blue boy’s spinning axe kick was moments from slamming straight onto the demon’s horned head; the king halts the boy’s descending kick with just a single arm; Tore feeling as if he had hammered the back of his foot against a solid wall In a matter of moments does the demonic king let out a blazing burst of flames from his body that blows the blue boy away and send him out through the rest of the garden; the angel’s very body crashing straight through the stone fountain set in the middle and through numerous other flowers making up the rest. Tore manages to flip back onto his own two feet and grind himself to a skidding halt moments before he could hit the side of the unholy cage, soon glancing out in the direction he came from to behold a blaze of fire streak out towards him like a lunging serpent. As he witnesses his angelic foe spring up from the very flames he had cast forth, his majesty launches himself straight after him in a fiery explosion and reaches out in just a matter of moments. Hanging just above the indigo angel, the hellish royalty unleashes a blast of hellfire that sends the blue boy careening back down towards the earth below; the crowd inside cheering for the king as the angel crashes into the dirt.

Just above the cheering crowd of guests, Kingsley, Cayenne, and Damian all peer out a window overlooking the entire garden and peer out to the ensuing brawl between the angel and demon; all the while the boy genius question: “What’s going on!? Why is hell’s King trying to roast Tore alive!?” “Seriously, its been like half an hour since we split up. What the hell did we miss?” Damian asks as well. “Heh heh heh heh. Okay, so you guys are seriously not gonna believe the shitshow that blue dumbass wound up getting into.” Cayenne offers to elaborate.

Behind the spectating crowd gathered beneath them Renee joins in watching the ensuing fight alongside the numerous guests; asking one of them: “What on Earth is happening right now?” “I’m wishing to know the exact same thing.” the blonde hears someone beside her say. Peering off to her side, the blonde girl discovers the questioning voice to belong to none other than the princess herself; Vera adding: “Just what is my dad even thinking doing something like this.” “Seriously can’t believe that blue asshole broke into their royal family’s home and terrorized their family.” they hear someone vent. “Wait what!?” the princess exclaims. “No! He’s not like that. It’s all just one big misunderstanding. Does he even look like somebody like that to you.” Renee attempts to informs.

Despite most of the crowd either ignoring or dismissing the blonde, Vera peers back up towards the chaos and watches closely as her father continues to duke out against the angel; the unholy king letting loose a bevy of fire from his maw that transforms into a demonic creature of flames that pursues his majesty’s foe. The indigo angel glides away from the pursing monstrous blaze, fending away the fiery beast with a volley of pale rays; all the while the princess state how: “He does seem rather familiar. The blue mane, the white wings, the light coming out from his body; all of it’s just making bells ring in my head. Just where have I seen him before?” Its in thinking back to not so long ago that she remembers the moments she was just moments away from the cold grip of death; bleeding out underneath a pile of broken castle rubble, surrounded by darkness. In but seconds his the vial of shadows lifted away, her site blurred to everything except a figure dressed in light; that very same glow enveloping her and pulling her away from the brink of demise. Among her recovery does her vision start to return, all the while the figure began to fly away down the castle corridors; the princess only able to make out white wings and a blue mane from the retreating figure. “That person...It was him...Oh no.”

Hearing this from the princess, Renee looks over and sees Vera attempt to slip through the thick crowd in hopes of making it outside; only for the overwhelming numbers to shove her aside. Coming over to the princess’s side does the blonde help Vera off the floor, all the while hearing her state how: “If I can’t get through, I won’t be able to break dad’s cage in time to tell him.” “You know how to break it?” Renee questions. “I’ve seen my dad use this barrier many times and saw how he breaks it open when he’s done. But even if I got out there, I’m not sure how I could even reach up around it by myself.” Its in hearing the princess lament of such that Renee peek out through the window set beside the sliding glass door and gaze upwards to discover her boyfriend and his pals watching the ongoing brawl through a second story window: “I might know some people who can. Come on, we gotta hurry.” the blonde girl tells the princess as she races back from the crowd, the princess she tells this to feverishly following after her.

With just a single blast of white does the indigo angel blow away the pursuing flaming demon, the monstrous pyre evaporating in the ray of pale power. This tiny victory is unfortunately short lived however as a pillar of rising flames erupts right behind the boy with a demonic silhouette underneath its blaze. The very moment that Tore turns back towards the column of fire, a hand of fiery brimstone reach out from the flames and grasp hold of the angel’s neck, the blue boy feeling the incredible heat radiating underneath the rock palms grasp as the king of hell emerges out from the blazing inferno. Amidst struggling under his majesty’s burning grasp, the king himself take his other brimstone covered fist and prepares to swing its hard rock right into the angel’s face; Tore repeatedly beating against the rock clutching his neck tight, the brimstone cracking with each it. With the fifth strike does the boy manage to burst the brimstone holding him up apart and free himself from the demonic king’s grasp; though his escape proves too late as his majesty slugs the angel right in the face with his other brimstone gauntlet, sending Tore spiraling down towards a part of the garden lined with numerous statues.

Among the resulting rocky collection of dust and dirt, the king hovers back down upon the earth where he had struck the blue miscreant down to; peering around to a number of statues that lined out along the walkway wayside that bare items such as books, weapons, and other tools, some baring a sort of resemblance to both Kingsley and Chloe. In strolling along the garden path is his majesty in his search, the hellish lord is left unaware of the angel himself hiding behind a statue of a beautiful woman holding a scale of justice in her hand; Tore himself peering out through the rest of the garden for anyway to tip the metaphorical scale. Okay Tore, you went through this before and barely survived the last time against this guy. Taking this guy head on right now is a seriously bad idea.  Maybe not with what’s in the tank right now, but maybe with what’s around. A bit of juice outta turn things around. Glancing out towards the foliage that makes up the garden, the indigo angel realizes his options in drawing out nearby power having been cut short; most of the flowers, vines, and other lively greens that once stood in bloom among the decor now engulfed in a blaze of hellfire Doesn’t seem there’s a lot left to work with here, but what about outside; All the other plants and animals out in the city. Should be more than enough to borrow from it all to make it through this.

Setting his mind on the life that lies beyond the garden, Tore clasps his hands together as he focuses on the plants, people, and animals that dwell within the city. Come on, need something here. Yet no matter how hard he focuses on all that live beyond the garden, even to those with the manor just outside; the angel opens his eyes to find not even a single bit of colorful light coating his body. Wh-what? Why hasn’t anything came yet? Focused on all the living things in Townsville, but there’s not even a single glow of color here. Why is this happening now!?

Left at a flustered loss over the lack of power he had failed to gather, the blue boy has little time to ponder how or why as he feels an incredible heat come from behind and turns back to witness the stone statue he hides behind start to melt before his eyes; Tore crawling backwards as he sees the demon king standing right behind its stone. Raising his fist up high, the demon king’s hands suddenly combust in a blazing fury as he starts to swing them down to the angel before him; Tore managing to flee back away before his majesty hammers his fist down to the ground in a blazing quake. Among the bursting flames does Tore peek back in his retreat to see his hellish foe relentlessly pursue after; his mind running a hundred miles an hour thinking of what other options he has. Fine, if anything out there won’t help out, then there’s might be something in here that can; something that can quell this guy’s fiery temper. But what? Among his swiftly look around does the blue boy manage to spot the remains of the broken fountain; some of the pipes sticking out from the stone and dribbling water out from within. Hey, that might work.

Before the indigo angel could take the chance to delve down towards the busted fountain; the king himself swoops right beneath him with hands of blazing fury; Tore evading his grasp as the demon cast forth a bevy of flames up towards the boy above. In the middle of evading his majesty’s blistering hellfire, Tore delves right down towards the king himself to deliver a couple of kicks to counter with; one right in the stomach and one straight into his face. Attempting to send out a third one however, the indigo angel winds up getting his leg caught right in his hellish foe’s clutches; the demon king seeing fit in the moment to light the boy’s leg ablaze. Enduring the burning pain, the blue boy swings the leg the demon king holds straight upwards and flings his majesty up into the air above; following up by firing a beam of white straight upwards out to the ascending demon and using its force to descend down towards the ground.

Recovering from the unexpected counterattack, the demonic king plummets down towards the plume of stone dust with his burning red eyes locked to the cloud; seeing the figure of the boy he pursues. While the king of hell drops downwards towards his angelic foe, the dusty cloud starts to let him see the blue boy grasp something from under his feet and uproot it up to the surface; ultimately caught off guard when witnessing the angel pull out a massive pipe pointed up towards him. “Get ready for the flood!” Tore warns with a smile. Descending down too fast to stop himself in time, all his demonic majesty could do was grind himself to a halt just before the open end of the pipe; preparing to face an entire torrent of gushing water from the quaking pipe. Alas when the pipe finally stops shaking, nothing but a pitiful stream is all that drizzles out from its steel depths; Tore looking inside to wonder if that was really all the water it had as the king lowers his guard. “Does...does he not know people shut their water off when working on their piping?” Kingsley questions. “Oh my fucking god…” Cayenne sighs while shaking her head.

In realizing the angel’s attempts to thwart him having blown up right in his face; the hellish king uncovers his face and tilts his burning scowl down upon him; returning his remark with: “Cute. Wish to see what a real flood is like?” With but the snap of his finger, the entire garden ground underneath starts to violently tremble as fissures form between what foliage had yet to burn; the remaining flowers combusting into flames when geysers of lava spew out from earth. The fiery hot goo swiftly covering the earth, Tore leaps upwards into the air to avoid its molten heat; the boy peering down in his ascent to see nothing but a few statues and rocky stands peek out from under the melting lava.

Taking in the view of the unholy red prison starting to flood with the fiery hot goo from the second floor, Damian claims to both his friends how: “Okay, this is getting too outta hand. We need to do something.” “My thoughts exactly.” the spice queen declares before leaping out through the window and towards the scene. “Cayenne, wait!” Kingsley attempts to warn. Spurring her friends warning aside does Cayenne charge straight towards the side of the unholy prison; putting as much force as she could as she rams her shoulder straight onto its side. The very moment that the spice queen touches the surface of the barrier is a powerful pulse of hellish power unleashed, one that blast Cayenne aside and have her crash right into the side of the manor. “The hell was that shit!” “A rather counter intuitive attempt with solve this with force, I’d say. Allow me.” the ghost boy scolds her with as he hovers out towards the red cage for a go. Approaching the hellish barricades surface does the ghastly young man turn himself completely intangible, gliding out towards the red wall as fast as he could. Yet strangely does this as well prove fruitless; the unholy cage stopping Damain right their and pushing him away; despite being totally incorporeal. “What!? How!? Why can’t I phase through it!?”

Its midst their questioning mysticism that Kingsley hears somebody behind him give them their answer; responding to the ghost boy’s quarrel with: “Only royal blood can unlock the seal. Without doing so, everything, even souls, are kept in and out of its unholy walls.” Hearing this answer, the boy genius quickly peers back to find both his blonde lover and the princess of demon’s herself standing behind him; Kingsley going: “Renee! Wait, you know how to break it open?” “Indeed I do. Those chunks of brimstone that line the barricade are the locks that ultimately keep the cage together. If they are unlocked, the cage shall shatter.” Vera elaborates to them. “So, you know where the key is?” Renee questions. Upon hearing the blonde girl ask this does the princess take off the pointed crown set atop her head and pricks one of her fingers with one of its sharp ends; a thick crimson leaking right out from the tip of her finger. “It’s right here.” “So you were being literal? Why?” “It’s a family practice. With but a drop will the brimstone locks break, I simply need someone to break through the layer’s underneath to reach them.” In hearing the princess explain all of this does Kingsley peer down through the window to see both of his friends still struggling to pierce through the prisons unholy defenses; Cayenne constantly beating against its surface while Damian repeatedly attempts to phase through, both yielding little to no success. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough. We need to do more than that.”

Inside the unholy prison itself, Tore continues to flee from the grasp of the demonic king of hell in a boiling sweat; all while beholding his majesty thrusts his palms down towards the lava beneath them both and commanding the molten liquid to spew up in geysers after the angel. As the blue boy weaves around the spewing strands of red hot goo, he could feel his very skin on the cusp of boiling as the incredible heat from these flung strand beats down upon him. Finding a couple of approaching waves of lava far too large to evade, the indigo angel instead fires out rays of pure pale power against these encroaching hellish waves; effectively dispersing the boiling before it could engulf him. Despite having spurned away his hellish foe’s cascading waves, his efforts proves to be nothing more than a distraction as king of hell plummets downwards from above with a blazing flame in the palm of his hand. The very moment that Tore turns back is one that is far too late, discovering his demonic royalty hovering above and unleashing the hellfire he holds in his hand; engulfing the angel in a plume of his fiery wrath as he’s blasted back.

While holding in the overwhelming desire to scream out, the blue boy careens through the fiery garden air in a smoking mess; threatening to crash right into the side of the hellish red barrier. But in the nick of time does Tore manage to regain his aerial balance and stop himself moments before he could slam straight into the side of the cage; the smoke enveloping his body disappearing to reveal the numerous burns along his skin. Okay. Can’t really call on any sort of power from outside. Every living thing in here that could’ve been a source of power is submerged in a sheet of boiling lava. And the King of hell is still aiming to burn away what skin is still left. If there’s nothing left around here to draw life from… With his demonic foe on the verge of striking him down, the indigo angel takes his focus away on the seething burns left along his body and starts to concentrate on what life he held within; the pain he feels eventually numbing as a colorful power starts to well from within the depths of his soul.

“Enough dawdling here. The time of your punishment is at hand. Say what prayers you have left, for they will not be answers for where you shall be sent!” the king of hell tells the angel before lunging after with hellfire engulfing his entire hand. Right when his hellish majesty was on the verge of striking the boy down with a furious hellfire, his assault thwarted on the spot when the blue boy grasps his wrist moments before he could be struck. Left astonished by the unexpected grab, his hellish majesty glances down to the blue boy as Tore in kind peers upwards; the angel’s eyes flashing a rainbow of colors along his pupils. ...Then I’ll just use what life I got left.

His fist coated in a colorful aura, the indigo angel straight slugs his demonic foe right in the chest; the incredible force of the assault hard enough to send his majesty crashing down into the pool of lava, with the red hot goo splashing onto the sides of the red unholy cage. “Whoa!” Kingsley exclaims. “Holy shit!” Cayenne shouts. “Dad!” Vera screams.

Yet mere moments after taking the descending splashdown straight into the pool of fresh hellish lava, the demonic king surfaces up out from the molten goo in an ascending burst straight after the angel above; globs of the boiling liquid clutched in his hands. Closing in on the indigo angel, his majesty scatters the globs of fiery goo straight out towards the boy above in little pieces. With small bullets of flaming lava coming straight at him, Tore rockets straight down towards the approaching flurry of flung lava; sticking his arms out towards the spread as he begins to twirl through the air in a straightforward aileron roll. The colorful life force held within his hands combined with the swirling velocity, the indigo angel spur away the flung scatter of molten liquid; piercing straight through the storm and towards its very sender.

Upon nearing his demonic majesty does the blue boy cease spinning through the air, focusing all the power he has in a single fist; ready to slug the demonic royalty straight in the face. Alas when Tore was on the cusp of punching his foe right in the shnoze, the king of hell weaves right around his swing with hellfire coating his fist; his majesty countering back with own brand of a fiery strike straight onto the boy’s backside. The burning assault sending him careening across the blistering hot garden air, Tore sticks his legs out towards the side of the cage he threatens to crash right into and manages to land right on his feet; the unholy prison wall letting out a furious pulse of flames that launches the blue boy back out towards the very demon that had conjured it. In but a matter of moment does the indigo angel return out towards the king of hell and swings his leg straight out to his majesty, the glowing blue boy landing an overwhelming kick right to the king’s side hard enough to send his fiery foe careening aside. As the demonic royalty recovers from the swift counterattack, the indigo angel thrusts his palms out towards the demonic royalty and fire out an incredible wave of colorful life out towards his majesty; the incredible ray widening exponentially as it streaks through the blistering hot air. The colorful ray proving too wide to dodge, the king of hell commands the magma beneath him to rise up before the encroaching wave and hardens its molten goo into fiery stone in but a matter of seconds. Though the wall of hardened lava manages to take initial brunt of the colorful ray, it quickly begins to weaken under the constant stream of power and breaks apart in a matter of seconds; the overwhelming blast engulfing the fiery demon in a flash of of bright colors.

Once the light from the incredible wave starts to finally dim, the indigo angel peers down to the pool of lava beneath to discover his fiery foe left floating along the surface; then witnessing his majesty swiftly snap right out from his dazing stupor in a roar of blazing hellfire. Arising out from the molten pool does the king of hell once more face the radiant colorful angel with a burning rage reflected in his bright red eyes; his entire body engulf in a scorching fury as he proclaims that: “That’s it! This has gone on long enough. I thought of making this quick, but you seem to wish for this to drag on. No more! I’m going to fry you alive from where you float!” While listening to the hellish devil’s decree, an encroaching dizziness begins to seep its way into the boy’s head; his vision blurring in and out as he threatens to pass out from exhaustion. Come on, don’t give out just yet. Just a bit more.

Right outside the barrier do both Damian and Cayenne hover above the unholy prison with both Vera and Kingsley riding upon them; the boy genius informing the spice queen that: “We need to break open that cage as fast as we can. Cayenne, take Vera around and break the locks holding it together.” “On it.” Cayenne simply complies with, gliding down to the crown of the hellish cage with the Vera atop her back. “Right. Damian, I need you to take me over to the water pressure controls. They’re right down in there.” the boy genius then orders the ghostly young man he rides on; pointing to a little steel shack set along the corner of the backyard. “Alright, hang on.” the ghost boy complies, delving down towards the very shack his friends pointed out. As they dive down towards the small steel shack, Damian turns both himself and the boy genius on his back totally intangible and phases right on inside; Kingsley hopping right off his back when landing inside and race straight over to a set of pressure valves and control panels within its walls.

While the boy genius starts to get to work on the panel and turning the numerous valves; the ghost boy behind him argues: “Kingsley, are you sure about this? The pipes underneath all that lava are probably sealed shut by now. I doubt any water would get through, even if we break the barrier.” “I know, but that’s not what this is for. When we bust it open, all that lava inside’s probably gonna spill out all over the place. So if we can’t stop it from spilling, I think it’s better if we try and slow it down while keeping it from reach the manor so no one watching all this gets hurt.” “If you didn’t want anyone in the splash zone, why didn’t we break them all up first?” “With what little time we have to work with, I got Renee to try and work on that, maybe clear a way for them to escape.”

“Seriously people. We need you to evacuate the estate before the situation here becomes any worse. Don’t any of you understand how severe this could turn?” Renee tries to reach through the observing crowd with. “You’re kidding, right?” “I sure am not gonna leave now and miss all this.” “I wound up traveling across the world just to see what this new team has up their sleeves and sure as hell ain’t leaving now.” Among their overall noncompliance can the blonde not help but let out a frustrating growl; swiftly calming herself down with a little breath before she could do or say anything crazy. Oh Kingsley I seriously hope you have a plan working for this.

Above the very barrier before them do all of them watch as Cayenne hovers just above its very top; the princess riding atop her eyeing the brimstone chunks along the outside. “So, ya saying that these locks are under a sheet of brimstone right?” “Indeed, but none of you have yet to tell me how you plan to break through their layers.” Vera claims. “The hell’s so fun about telling you? Why don’t ya just see for yourself.” “Wait, what do you mean by tha-” Just before the princess could finish questioning the spice queen’s statement do they both start diving straight down towards one of the brimstone slabs along the unholy barricade; Vera holding on for dear life as Cayenne prepares to strike away at the stone. In just a single swing does the Spice queen manage to bust through the brimstone’s outer shell; swiping away the debris to reveal a hellish insignia with a hole dead on the middle. “Damn, that looks fuckin sick. You need to dunk your finger in there or…?” “No, no. Th-that won’t be necessary. Just give me a moment.” the princess tells her, her body still quaking from the unexpected drop down. Hovering her finger right over hellish insignia,  the princess lets the blood seeping from her finger drip straight into the hole; the entire face alights in a glow of orange and lets out a horrible shriek from under its stone. While covering their ears from the trembling screech, both of them witness the brimstone crumble apart in a burst of hellfire; the unholy prison’s red walls starting to flicker as the lock falls apart. “Hell yeah. One lock down, three more go.”

Gliding within the burning air of the red cage itself does Tore continue to fight off the devils hellish assault, pushing away the demonic king with a pulse of pure colorful life. In being pushed back that the king of hell command the lava beneath in to rise out from the earth and bellow out towards the indigo angel; the intense light from the boiling lava covering the boy as he rushes outwards. With but a wave of his hand, the blue boy casts forth a colorful wave that disperses the fiery hot goo wave and rockets out towards the king himself; his entire body coated in a lively colorful aura as he nears. Seeing the indigo angel incoming, the demon waves his arms upwards to conjure a whirlwind of fiery hot flames from right underneath the blue boy; engulfing the boy in a tornado of blistering heat. Tore blocks his body from the fiery inferno blowing at him from all sides, enduring through the searing flames as his body starts to glow brighter and brighter in a multitude of colors; a light that the king beholds beyond the blaze of his whirlwind. Finally does Tore unleash all he had in an overwhelming shockwave that disperse the flaming whirlwind, the almighty push casting his hellish fiery foe straight down into the pool of molten liquid.

From this overwhelming wave, the colorful aura that irradiates out from the boy’s body starts to fade away to unveil his skin left nearly gray; Tore clutching his heart as he tries to catch his breath. “Ah...Oh god...Can’t keep going anymore...Might just burn myself out.” “You’ll burn either way.” a voice from below claims. Peering down beneath his feet does he see a pillar of lava spew out from the below and flutters back to avoid the seering goo; his escape failing to take him far as an arm pops out from the molten liquid and tightly grasp his neck, the devilish pyro emerging out and finishing with: “I promise such.” Midst his struggle to free himself from the fiery king’s clutches, the blue boy grabs hold of the king’s horns and pushes back with as much strength as he had left to muster; his majesty letting out a seething growl as he begins to take in a deep breath. When seeing his hellish foe taking in a deep breath, he realizes all too well what the king’s next move was and shove his knee straight into the devil’s jaw; the indigo angel keeping the devil’s trap shut as bits of lava escaping from the demon’s nose. The demonic king’s cheeks puff bright orange as he starts to choke on all the excess lava gathering in his mouth; tearing up as he finally lets go of the blue boy and kicks him away, vomiting all the molten goo out from his maw. The demonic royalty takes a brief second to cough out bits of lava as he rubs the part of his chin the angel had kneed; his other hand trembling as he peers over to the blue boy and calls him a: “Cheeky little bastard.”

Just outside the unholy prison do all the numerous dug up pipes littering the garden starts to spew out a torrent of rushing water; all of it starting to soak everywhere from the stone paths, the grass, the foliage, every drop spreading out along every inch of the backyard. Up along the crown of the devilish cage does Vera let a drop of her blood peter out from her finger and fall straight into the brimstone lock; the symbol surrounding the hole letting out an unholy shriek before crumbling to pieces. Witnessing the red power that makes up the bubble flicker more frequently, the spice queen claims that: “Just one more.” Right when they were about to hover out towards the final lock, both of them hear a familiar voice call out from the distance; peering out to find both Kingsley and Damian gliding over as the boy genius orders: “Heya, lets switch!” “On it!” Cayenne complies, taking grasp of the princess atop her back. “Wait, what the hell do you think your-” Without even a single warning does the spice queen straight up toss Vera up out towards the ghostly young man hovering above, all the while Kingsley leaps down as she arises. Almost simultaneously, the boy genuis manages to land right in Cayenne’s arms just as Damian catches the princess amidst her ascent; Vera taking a brief moment to calm herself while riding atop the ghost boy’s back. “Oh...Oh dear…”

Held within the spice queen’s grasp, Kingsley peers down and watches as the open pipes soak his backyard in more and more water; Cayenne asking the boy: “You wanna say what you got in mind or are we just pissing in the wind?” “At this rate, most of the water here won’t be enough to stop all that lava. I think we need to do something else to keep it from reaching the manor, something I think you excel at.” “Whatcha got in mind for me to fuck up?”

After explaining what else the boy genius has in mind, Cayenne hovers out over towards a stone column set over the garden and setting Kingsley down at its very top; the boy genius watching as the spice queen fly out near the manor and delve down towards the ground set between it and the garden. All the numerous guest spectating these events jump back as Cayenne dive bombs down along the ground and scrapes through the dirt with her bare fists. Seeing his spicy partner starting to make out a ditch between his home and backyard, Kingsley peering over to Damian and the princess hover above the cage.

When floating just inches away from the last brimstone lock guarded in a layer of brimstone, Vera wonders to the ghost boy: “I do wonder how you plan to break through the layer to reach the lock.” “Oh please, I’m not a brute. There won’t be any breaking needed.” he claims. Gently grasping the princess’s arm the ghost boy turns her limb completely transparent, Vera letting out a little shriek before Damian tells her to: “Calm down. It’s alright. Just simply dunk your hand right in where the hole is.” “Uh...okay.” Carefully, Vera does what he instructs and is astonished to see her arm phase straight through the brimstone like nothing was there. The blood from the demon princess’s finger dribbles down from the tip straight down through the brimstone; soaking through until dripping into the lock hole underneath. Like before does the hard rock begin to scream out before it falls apart, the entire red bubble holding both her father and the boy he fights trembling at the seems. “What is going on?” the ghost boy questions. “I suggest we flee before it burst open.”

Upon the princess’s warning does Damian take her away from the red cage as it starts to quake far more violently; suddenly collapsing in a powerful burst that breaks the glass of the manor and knocks the people inside on their asses. With the walls of the unholy cage broken does the lava that was kept inside start to spill out further through the garden; the guests of the manor running like hell as a big wave of the molten goo flows out towards them. When arising right out from the ditch that she had just dug out, Cayenne sees some of the lava melting the stone column her pal stands atop off; the base of the pillar melting away as it threatens to tumble down into the scorching lava. Immediately does the spice queen spring into action and dart straight towards her falling comrade, snatching Kingsley right out from the air moments before he could take the fiery plunge. While hovering above, Kingsley watches as the lava that spills starts to collide with the water streaming through the backyard; only slowing the molten liquid down as he head straight for the manor. “Come on. Come on.” the boy genius utters. With sweat running down their foreheads, Kingsley and Cayenne watch as the lava starts to fill up the freshly dug out ditch set before the manor; growing more tense as the lava starts to reach the top. But with how deep Cayenne had dug and the running water starting to slow it down, all the lava that spills out manages to just rim the very top of the ditch, both of them letting out a huge sigh knowing their home and all the people within were safe and sound. “Holy shit...So, now how are we gonna take care of that shit show.” the spice queen wonders, pointing out towards the continuing brawl.

Despite the red cage that had encased them both having vanished, the demonic king continues his onslaught against the indigo angel; slugging the boy with fiery swing after another and scorching him further with every strike. Though Tore attempts to counter the king’s flames, he proves far too exhausted and spent to reliably get any hits of his own in; failing to even raise a single hand up as all that be left for him is to endure his majesty’s blazing wrath. Placing his palm right underneath the blue boy’s head, the king unleashes a burst of searing flames right from above; a fiery blast that sends the angel plummeting down towards the earth. Crashing down into the charred soil below, Tore still feels the scorching heat beat against his back; despite there not even being a single glob of molten liquid left. When attempting to pull himself off the blistering hot earth, the blue boy only able to pull up onto his ass moments before his demonic foe lands before him; Tore left frozen in place as the king of hell looks down upon him with a fiery glare. Not even a word is spoken between them as his majesty raises his hand to the sky and engulfs his arm in a thick burning layer of hellfire; the light it emits rivaling that of the sun. Whelp, really facing the heat now, and with a nearly empty tank of gas too. Body here’s practically more burns than skin. And lookin like the final stop here is a one way road straight into the fiery depths of oblivion. If this is the way this road trip ends, better just use what fuel I got left. These determined thoughts ringing through his head, Tore faces the demonic king head on as the colorful aura that had once coated him returns in full force; its rainbow glow matching that of the very fires that he faces.

Seeing the two on the verge of clashing at any moment: Vera peers down to her ghostly ride and demands that: “No! Damian, let go of me!” “From this high up!? But-” “There’s no time! Just do it!” On Vera’s request does the ghost boy complies and releases the demon princess from his grasp, letting her plummet down towards both her father and the angel; the princess gazing down to witness both her father and the angel lunging out towards one another. Right as the two were about to lunge upon each other in a clash of lively flames does Vera drop between them both; urging the two to suddenly stop dead in their tracks, their blinding light dimming as they behold the princess standing between them.

Even as her legs quake from the drop that she had just endured, the demonic princess stands before the fury of her burning father and demand out from him that: “Daddy, you need to stop, right now!” “Vera?...Why!? After this miscreant broke into our home, scared your mother and brother, stole the family treasure, and beat me unconscious! Why after all of that do you wish for his life to be sparred!?” “Because he had saved mine!” the princess answers, his daughter’s responds quelling some of the king’s burning fury.

In my hurry through the castle hall’s, parts of the roofs had collapsed onto me and buried me underneath their dark red stone; it honestly felt as if my chest had been smashed open and that death was knocking on my door. That is until I started to feel a warm glow run throughout my body and return me to reality once more. The unbearable pain that I had suffered from had vanished in a matter of seconds as I began to return; awaking from my stupor to find my dress torn open in places where I had felt this agony. Rising up from the behind the rubble, all I could see retreating from me was a figure donning a blue mane and wings of pale white gliding deeper into the castle. Since then, I couldn’t help but wonder if those events had actually transpired or if they were simply a hallucination brought on by a concussion. But seeing this boy with my own eyes proved to me that it was no mere illusion; if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before him tonight.”

His daughter having told this side of the story to her, the demonic king takes a calming breath as the flames enveloping his body disperse; quelling the murderous rage he had gardened towards the blue boy. Yet does a thin layer of doubt remain as his majesty marches right past his loving daughter and over to the boy behind her; Vera staring in concern to her father as he walks beside her while uttering: “Daddy?” Standing tall just inches away from the kneeling angel, Tore takes up a stance as the king stares down upon him with a fiery orange glare; the only words that he says as a demand to the boy to: “Start explain. Now.”

About a half an hour passes as the lava that dwells within the ditch starts to cool from the water flowing from the pipes; whatever fires and flames that lingered having been dowsed out. Sitting patiently beside him does the fiery royalty listen to the indigo angel he was but moments away from roasting in burning hellfire as Tore goes on to finish with: “Once I realized who the Kybr truly were and what they were like; I wound up having to fight Mall in hopes of stopping him. If it weren’t for my sibs and their friends helping me to stop Mall and destroying the warp gate’s core, the Kybr would’ve wound up flooding the universe.” “Is that all?” the devil beside the angel questions. “Yep…” the blue boy simply responds back to with hints of disappointment. Hearing the last of what the blue boy has to say for himself, the king of hell lets out a small sigh as he rises back on his feet and stroll out towards his daughter; telling her to: “Come on, Vera. We’re heading back home.” “Um, okay. Thanks again for all your help, Vanguard League.” the princess thanks with as she follows her father out towards the backdoor. The misses of the estate coming out from the sliding glass door, she winds up running into the exiting royalty; who apologizes to her with: “I apologize for the mess I had caused tonight. I promise to pay off the damages.”

Despite the night having just been saved, Kingsley can’t help but peer over to the blue boy; watching the angel as he slouches over with his hands over his face. Before he could go over to try and comfort the blue boy, he suddenly feels somebody giving him a big pat on his back and glances over to find Cayenne congratulating him with: “Damn, Kingsley. You’d did a fine ass job keeping yer cool under all that heat.” “Uh, thanks. Pretty surprised myself on how cleanly I handled it all. I thought for sure I was gonna crack among the action.” “Well, I can safely assure that you handled it all with such incredible grace and fortitude; even I was shaking through most of it all.” the ghost boy hovers over and praises. Racing right over to his side does Renee give the boy genius a great big hug, embracing her boy tight as she claims how: “I told you that all those worries you had were just in your head. Even when things turn out their worst, you become your very best and bring out everyone’s A game.” “You guys think so? Maybe being this whole leader thing won’t be as bad as I was inflating it to be.” Kingsley corrects. “I wish I could say the same about our garden.” he then hears his mother lament.

Peering aside, the boy finds her mother grieving over the site of her now destroyed backyard; what remained of the numerous colorful flowers and bushes that made up its natural beauty now left charred and burned beyond any sort of recognition. “It might not be that bad, Mrs. Spicer. We could just rebuild and replant everything again.” Renee attempts to cheer her up with. “I’m not sure that’ll be possible. The soil itself is far too charred and burned for anything planted here to grow. I’m not sure if it’ll ever recover.” Damian points out, a statement which only furthers the mother’s sorrow.

Rising out from his self pity does the indigo angel behold the consequences of what his fight with the demon king had entailed; the smoke wafting from the burnt foliage covering the night sky. “God...all this is just my fault. None of this wouldn’t have happened if I was here. If I didn’t go with all and wind up nearly dooming everyone.” “Oh Tore...yeah it pretty much is.” “Cayenne!” Kingsley snaps. “What? It’s cause if him that the king of hell through a big shit fit in the first place.” “But he was just trying to help us with the party; how were we supposed to-” “No...Cayenne’s right. I gotta try and make up for all this. All the trouble I just wound up bringing here.” the blue boy states. “Just how do you plan to start? This garden’s practically lifeless the way it is.” the ghost boy tells him. “...I might know how.”

Among saying such does the angel start to stroll out towards the very center of the destroyed garden, taking in a deep breath of the smoke arising from the earth. Once standing right in the midst of the ruined garden, the indigo angel exhales the breath from his lunges and closes his eyes while clasping his hands in a prayer; once again focusing all the plants, animals, and people that reside outside the garden wall. All throughout the city are little bits of colorful light drawn out from within every single thing alive within Townsville; be it from the biggest of elephants held within the zoo to the smallest of insects that crawl along the underbelly of the town. The countless bits of life all flutter through the city skyline and gather out towards the upper district; every single piece taken straight out to the backyard where they all drawn within the blue boy’s body. Kingsley, Cayenne, Damian, Renee, and the Misses stare upon the indigo angel as his entire body and the wings on his back is enveloped in a rainbow of aura that alights the entire backyard in a colorful glow. Holding all the lively power he had gathered throughout Townsville, Tore thrusts his arms straight down into the charred earth beneath his feet and sends it all surging through the soil; the once burned and scorched ground now glowing alight in a multitude of lively colors that shine across the neighborhood.

Soon enough does this brilliant light start to fade, letting all that dwell within the once ruined backyard all behold the overflowing flora that spreads out before them; numerous flowers, plants and tree’s of dozens of families and species now standing before them all in an incredible burst of nature and vegetation. “What?” Cayenne utters. “Wow.” Renee softly awes. “Amazing.” Damian gawks. “Our garden. It’s practically overwhelming. Everything’s flourishing greater than ever.” the misses of the estate gushes. Peering over is everyone’s attention drawn to the blue boy who had made it all possible, resting soundly against the base of a thick oak whose height rivals the manor before it. “Can’t believe he did all this in mere seconds.” the blonde girl surmises. “He brought not just the plants, but the soil itself back from the clutches of death.” the ghost boy marvels. “If he can do all this. Just what the hell are we supposed to do about this blue bastard.” Cayenne questions. Kingsley stares out to the indigo angel left soundly sleeping underneath the massive thick oak; letting his burns rest as the nightly wind brushes the leaves down from their branches and flutters onto the slumbering blue boy. “I don’t know Cayenne. I really don’t know.”

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Thank you all for sticking around here for this long. And I wanted to start off this season by finally firing a Chekov's gun that I set up a while ago. Also wanted to do something with Kingsley processing the thoughts of being a leader to a budding organization with big plans since it wasn't really touched upon. Also add in some little details that weave into the mainline story here.

I'd say I'm at a near competent in terms of writing skills, but there's always more out there I could learn from and improve. I hope all of you stick around to see that process take place. Thank you.

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope #callyieverse

[crystalgirl259]

How to Train Your Dragonblood 3: The Dragonblood Alpha Ch2

An indisputable shriek filled the air of the boundless sky over the calm ocean that was empty of boats as a bright red Fire Dragonblood soared across the water, causing waves, and rocketed across the horizon. The image of unbridled freedom. Tucked into his riding position, Jay appeared to be part of Kai. They dipped, rolled, and dived over a sea teeming with whales, dolphins, and a few Water Dragonbloods. They pulled off daring maneuvers with honed refinement, making them seem effortless.

"Yeah!" Jay yelled in adrenaline. They heading skyward, rolled, and tumbled through the ethereal cloud-scapes and joining high-flying Speed Dragonbloods as they soar in a formation. Jay was bound head-to-toe in a snug, dark blue, aerodynamic flight suit. An asymmetrical, functional design of leather and articulated plates. "So what do you think, baby? Wanna give this another shot?" He asked his dragonblood boyfriend.

"You've gotta be kidding!" Kai grumbled in protest.

"Come on Kai! It'll be fine." He reassured and with a click of a lever, he locked the pedals in the flared tailfin position so Kai could fly stably. Jay then unhooked himself from the saddle. "Ready?"

"Fine." Kai snorted unenthusiastically. Suddenly, Jay slid off his back, peeling away from him like a skydiver from a plane, yelling as he plummeted. Kai dove after him. They spiraled through the air, face-to-face. Kai was having fun, despite himself. When he saw the ocean, Jay slipped his forearms through a pair of tucked leather flaps and pulled, unfurling sheets of leather as he extended his arms. They caught the wind, snapping like wings, and sent him gliding.

Kai unfolded his wings, too, catching up with his human boyfriend.

The freedom was palpable. Jay and Kai were, for the moment, the same. Feeling the same rush of adrenaline. Independently together. They plunged past cloud formations, splitting apart then crossing paths again.

"This is amazing!" Jay shouted, overjoyed at these feelings. All of a sudden, a cloud layer washed past, exposing a towering rock formation dead ahead. "No longer amazing! KAI!" He screamed as he tried to steer himself away, to no avail. Kai poured on the speed, trying to catch Jay as he hurtled toward the collision. His locked tail made maneuvering difficult. He was unable to pull up at a steep enough angle. At the last second, Kai blasted the jagged rocks just ahead of them, then wrapped Jay in his wings as they flew through it.

The obliterated peak rained down around them.

Kai emerged through the cloud of debris and hurtled into the trees of a neighboring peak. They tumbled down the uneven terrain, coming to rest on a small plateau. Jay emerged from the cocoon of Kai's wings. He switched his prosthetic riding foot to his walking foot and stowed his leather wings. As Kai transformed into his human form, the sea stack cracked and fell.

"That really came out of nowhere." The brunette grumbled as he rubbed his sore muscles.

"We gotta work on your solo flying there, baby; that locked-up tail makes for some pretty sloppy rescue maneuvers, eh?" Jay chuckled as removed his helmet. He walked to the edge of the cliff, taking in the new land. "Looks like we found another one." He beamed and an annoyed Kai threw a small pebble at Jay's head. Jay looked at him, but Kai frowned and avoided his gaze.

"Oh, what? Do you want an apology? Is that why you're pouting, big baby boo? Well, try this on!" He teased as he hugged him and tried to wrestle with him. Kai's frowns melted to a smile at his boyfriend's attempt to overpower him. Despite growing in muscles and confidence to the last five years, they both knew Jay could never face Kai in hand-to-hand combat, with or without fire powers. All of a sudden, the brunette grabbed Jay's wrists, pinned him to the floor, and started kissing his face and neck.

"What's that you were saying?" Kai smirked.

"You're right! You're right! You win! You win!" Jay shrieked in roars of laughter. Satisfied, Kai got off him and let him get up. After catching his breath and with a big smile on his face, Jay got to his feet and looked around at the new island, and pulled out his map. "Whaddya reckon, baby? Think we might find a few Gravity Dragonbloods in those woods? The odd Light Dragonblood or two in the rocks? Who knows... maybe we'll finally track down another Fire Dragonblood; wouldn't that be something?" He sighed sadly as he stopped drawing on the map and looked out at the new horizon. "So, whaddya say baby? Should we just keep going?"

"When did you get so soppy?" Kai teased at his boyfriend's serious face. Jay rolled his eyes and lightly elbowed the dragonblood.

"Gotta make up for what you lack." He smirked back.

"Hey, I don't lack in anything! Especially where it counts, as you know." He purred seductively as he wrapped his arms around the ginger-haired man's neck before he burst out laughing at Jay's scarlet face. A dragonblood screech caught their attention. They turned just as they saw Cole and Rocky landed on the island. Kai gave Jay a quick kiss on the cheek he ran over excitedly to greet Rocky as Cole went to talk to the other rider.

"'Sup Rock?" The brunette smirked as the Earth Dragonblood sneaked him a cigarette while pulling out his own and he used his fire powers to light them. He had promised Jay he would cut down on his smoking, but it was hard to kick a habit like this.

"Not much, Grant almost set the town on fire with a lava ball... again, and Tes and Bolt are trying to tear each other to shreds." He sighed. He loved Adam and the triplets, but sometimes the kids, who were five now, drove them both mad.

"The offsprings of a Lightning and Earth Dragonblood couple are bound to cause chaos." Kai shrugged with a smirk.

"True, but I better the kids of a human and a Fire Dragonblood would be worse." He counted and Kai almost choked on his cigarette.

"What the fuck dude!"

"Oh come on hothead! Everyone's wondering when you two are gonna tie the knot and then have a little junior running around town." Rocky grinned at the bright crimson blush on Kai's tanned cheeks. Kai felt his temper flare up at this statement. They had talked about having children a few weeks ago, but both decided that they weren't ready for that yet, despite dating for five years now. Sadly, this hadn't sat well with Cliff. As soon as he caught wind of his son and Kai talking about having their own children, he began dropping hints about grandchildren or children, in general, every chance he got.

It didn't matter where or when.

Every morning, noon and night, no matter what activities Cliff caught them doing, like fishing or cooking, he would say how he used to do that with Jay, how he did it with his dad, and how great it would be for Jay to do it with his own child. Eventually, the couple had to sit Cliff down and explain to him that they weren't having children anytime soon. They thought that was the end of it. That is until Cliff decided to drop a bombshell on them this morning.

Without warning, Kai suddenly tackled Rocky to the ground and the dragonbloods started wrestling and chasing each other through the trees.

Their human riders glanced at the two dragonbloods, but shrugged it off and returned to their own conversation.

"Hey Cole, where have you been?" Jay asked as he returned to his map.

"Well, winning races, but what else?" He shrugged. "The real question is where have YOU been?"

"Avoiding my dad."

"Oh, no, what happened now?" He smirked.

"Oh, you're gonna love this." He groaned as he handed the pen to Cole. "I wake up, the sun's shining, crows are singing on the rooftop, I saunter down to breakfast with Kai, thinking all is right with the world and I get: Son, we need to talk." He said, imitating Cliff.

"Not now, Dad, Kai, and I have a whole day of goofing off to get started," Cole replied, imitating Jay, which the ginger didn't look impressed with.

"Okay, first of all, I don't sound like that! What is this character?!" He cried, but the light giggles showed Cole that he wasn't actually offended.

"A truly flattering impersonation." He said as he rolled his eyes. "Anyway he goes: you're the pride of Ninjago, and I couldn't be more proud of you; you're all grown up, and since no chief could ask for a better successor, I've decided-"

"To make you chief! Oh, my Gods!" Cole suddenly gasped as he stood up, doing a complete turnaround in the mood. It was clear, however, that Jay didn't share his eagerness though. "Jay, that's amazing!" He exclaimed and to settle his joy he punched him in the stomach. Jay cried out in surprise and stepped back, holding the injured side as the dorsal fin sprung up.

"You-You're gonna wear out the spring coil, the calibration is very sensitive." He scolded and Cole chuckled as he adjusted his armor. Suddenly they both are thrown down by the still fighting dragonbloods when they pass by them. Cole stood up with a huff from where he landed, kneeling over Jay.

"Yeah... so..." Jay sighed as he accepted the offered hand and pulled himself up as well. "This is what I'm dealing with."

"What did you tell him?"

"I- I didn't, by the time he turned around we were gone." He replied as Cole bent down to pick up the map.

"Well, that's a lot of responsibility, for sure; the map will have to wait for sure and I'll need to fly Kai since you'll be too busy, but I'm sure he understands." The noirette hummed as he walked away, pressing the map in Jay's chest. When he turned around, Jay looked at him so miserably.

"It's not me, Cole." He admitted. "All those speeches and planning and running the village, that's his thing."

"I think you're missing the point." He replied. "I mean... Chief! What an honor, I'd be pretty excited!"

"I... I'm not like you; you know exactly who you are, you've always had, but... I'm still looking." He sighed sadly as he stepped away from the noirette and towards the edge dejected while further behind Rocky and Kai started fighting over a fallen tree trunk. "I know that I'm not my father, and I've never met my mother so… what does that make me?"

"I get where you're coming from," Cole replied. "I might not have been as young as you when I lost my Mom, but when she died Dad and I kinda drifted apart, and as I grew older I felt like I didn't know who I was; my Dad barely talked to me and I felt like my Mom was a stranger to me because we never talked about her." He explained. "But after you and Kai changed everything, Rocky helped me reconnect with Dad and I finally realized who I was.

"It's not the same Cole." He muttered as he flopped down on the ground. Cole came from behind and sat next to him.

"What I'm saying is that what you're searching for isn't out there, Jay." He smiled as he placed his hand on Jay's chest. "It's in here, and maybe you just don't see it yet." He added but Jay ignored him and focused on the sky.

"Maybe... But you know... there is something out there." He muttered as he got up on his knees and watched attentively something off-screen.

"Ugh! Jay..." He groaned as he shook his head. Jay reached blindly with his hand and grasped his chin, turning his face to what he saw and Cole gasped. In the distance, over the cliffs, there was a trail of smoke climbing up into the morning sky...

#How to Train Your Dragonblood #ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #ninjago nya #ninjago zane #plasmashipping

[queenvidal]

Reuinons

- 6 months are a long time, they have a lot of catching up to do -

- Work on AO3 -

Chapter 2 (NSFW)

The moment the elevator starts moving, Wrex has to shift from one foot to the other. Shepards smile is morphing into a mischievous smirk. "What's the matter, big guy? Nervous?" 

"Teasing, Lexis? You should know better than teasing a krogan you left waiting for months."

The smirk vanished as quickly as it had come. Instead her brows move into a frown. "Yeah, sure. Like the Alliance left me a choice."

"No, but I did. Told ya not to hand yourself in. I'd have loved to see 'em try to get you off my planet." Both knew the Alliances would have not tried anything. The peace between Earth and Tuchanka has been too fragile. 

Shepard folds her arms in front of her chest. "Mood killer, Wrex."

"Nah." He chuckles. "I know how to get you back in the mood." If only the damn elevator would hurry. His groin plates started shifting the moment he got word of the other races agreeing to board the Normandy for negotiations. Wrex armor is getting tighter and tighter. This topic might be a mood killer for her but surely not for him. If anything it reminds him of how long he has been abstinent.

 Neither of them said something about monogamy but still Wrex waited for her. The women of his clan are hard to seduce and furthermore his mind was very occupied with gaining and keeping his power among his clan and the others.

   Except for the one time he was on the Citadel, when he paid Cora's Den one final visit before it closed. They never lacked of beautiful dancers and hookers. He considered taking a human to the private areas of the club but in the end he just payed for his drinks and left.

   Somehow it didn't feel right. And for some reason he didn't find the human females nor the asari very alluring. Something he noticed with his own females, too. The work of making them agree to sleep with him started to seem not worth the outcome anymore. Not to mention that fun and enjoyment never were the main focus when sleeping with krogans anyway. Is only about procreation, nothing more.

   Oftentimes Wrex found his thoughts around his former Commander. Her lips and what they were capable of. Something no krogan could give him. Sure, Coras humans could have done it and probably even their asari but if he's honest with himself, it's not about the strange mouth pillows in particular, it's about them being Alexis.

   He still remembers the last time they were together, how she smelled, how she tasted, how she wiggled underneath him in ecstasy. Wrex can feel his quad tighten in anticipation, his armor is getting painfully tight. But he is holding himself back, he'd rather have her in the privacy of her cabin, than in this poor excuse of an elevator.

   Shepard seems to notice the reason behind his discomfort. They had a similar situation happen when she was on Tuchanka before she left for the Collector-Base. "So…" Her voice sounds suspiciously playful. Slowly she turns, facing him completely. With a coy grin on her face, her hands are wandering up his chest until they stop just beneath the exposed hide of his neck. "You really waited for me? A wonder you didn't exploded during my time under arrest. Six months are a long time after all."

   The elevator it is, then. Without a word he grabs her, lifting her up. Shepard quickly wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him to her even closer. Having her trapped between him and the wall, Wrex buries his face in the crook of her neck to savor her sweet smell. Damn, she smells even better than he remembered, having him even more turned on. Krogans may lack of lips for kissing but he quickly learned he still can nip at her skin. Having her sighing nevertheless.

   The stupid jacked of hers is getting in his way eventually, blocking him from the soft skin of her throat. Alexis can hear the buttons flying against the metal ground, Wrex ripped through the cloth but she couldn't care less with his hot breath against her neck.

   Finally the elevator doors open. Just in time. Wrex carries her out to the small anteroom. Her legs let go and he carefully lets her down, only to spin her around.

   Wrex is wasting no time, he opens up the seals of the goin plate of his armor. Finally releasing his rock hard member. Shepard hurries as well, she pulls both her trousers and her panties down, letting them pool around her ankles.

   She almost has no time to brace herself against the wall, when Wrex kicks her feet further apart to get better access to her hot core.

   The sweet scent of her arousal is floating Wrex nostrils, almost driving him insane. He positions himself behind her, coating the tip of his member with her excitement. With one quick thrust he enters her. He moans against her shoulder and she against the wall. Fuck, for how long was he craving for this?

   But Wrex won't let her adjust to his size, he starts moving forcefully, pushing in further, just to withdraw again. His talons are buried deep into the sensitive skin of her hips while he takes her in a fast rhythm.  His grasp might be too hard but he couldn't care less. That what she gets for teasing him and her moaning and sighing speaks for itself, no complaining from her side.

   Shepards legs start to tremble, the sensation of Wrex blunt spikes along his length is almost too much to bare. His thick and pointy tip is hitting are her g-spot with unbelievable precision. The tight coil in her belly is about to burst at any second.

   Wrex can feel her already tight walls closing in on him. Fuck, this woman is like a vice. Her moaning and slick hot wetness is drawing Wrex closer to the edge with every movement of his hips. When he feels her pulsing around him, after a few more hard thrust, he starts losing his rhythm. With a low grunt he spills himself inside her but instead of catching his breath he withdraws completely.

   Shepard wants to complain but whatever she was about to say, dies in her throat when Wrex spins her around to face him again. She looks up at him with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes while his are burning with desire. Wrex grabs her thighs and picks her up to presses her against the wall again. He spreads her legs as far as possible.

   Shepard lets her head fall back when he pushes into her again. With the new angle, his groin plates are pressing against her clit. It feels way too good and she's biting her lips, trying to keep her sounds down.

   Something Wrex notices and doesn't approve of. He darts his tongue out and licks over her pulse point. His human buries her nails into his chest plate in response. But the muffled moans are still too quiet for his liking.

   Wrex increases the speed and strength of his thrusts, almost slamming into her. Shepard clings to him for dear life, she is close again. Wrex nips at her neck one final time before he bites her where her neck and shoulder meet.

   Unable to hold back anymore, Alexis cries out, not in pain but in pure pleasure. It's throwing her over the edge, hard. Her orgasm is leaving her squirming in her krogans hands. Wrex is responding with an orgasm of his own, her tightening and spasming walls making him follow her suit only seconds later.

   Both are panting heavily, not letting go of each other. Wrex leans his head against the cool metal of the wall while Shepard lets her head drop onto his shoulder as they recover. Not trusting her legs yet, Wrex tugs her closer and starts carrying  her to the door, down the steps and to her bed, where he carefully lays her down.

   Shepard swipes loose strands of hair from her forehead as she looks up at her krogan with a small smile on her lips. "Done already?"

   A low laugh rumbles through Wrex chest. “Heh, this was just foreplay. I’m everything but done with you just yet.” Only now he stars to remove the rest of his armor, Shepard crowls to the end of the bed to help him. It's falls unceremoniously to the ground, piece by piece until he's completely naked.

   He looks down at her to find her beaming at him. Damn, she is a sight. Slowly Wrex leans down to nip on her lips and Shepard kisses him back. It's ridiculous but Wrex can't deny he likes it. "My turn." She whispers against his skin.

   The bed shifts and protests loudly under Wrex weight but it doesn’t break. This time. Carefully he leans back against the headboard of her bed, watching her getting rid of the ridiculous jacket and her bra underneath it.

   Leisurely she's coming closer to straddle his legs. Wrex eyes wander over her naked form as she's slowly lowering her head towards his member. His pulse quickens when he feels the tip of her tongue taking its time to wander from the base up his length and to the head. She encircles it with her full lips and starts bobbing her head down ever so slowly.

   Dammit, it feels even better than he called to mind. It takes all his strength not to move his hips to thrust into her warm mouth. Her slow pace is maddening and perfect at the same time. Too much and not enough.

   The Clan-Chief can’t keep from growling, when Shepard starts to suck on his tip. She circles it with her tongue every now and then and continues to suck again. Taking more of his length in with everytime she does it.

   Stars are dancing behind Wrex eyelids. When he closed his eyes, he can't remember and he doesn't care. This is way too good to allow even the shortest of coherent thoughts. Alexis tongue starts playing with the blunt spikes of his shaft while swallowing around him.

   Wrex buries his talons in the sheets, almost tearing them. "Fuck…" He pulls even harder at the sheets, when he can feel Shepards delicate fingers massaging his quad while the speed of her working him with her mouth increases.

   Eventually she releases him again with a loud      plop    . Wrex opens his eyes again, just in time to see her carefully lowering herself onto him. A sigh leaves her swollen lips when he enters her again. Both stay still for a moment, only looking at each other before Alexis starts moving.

   Every so slowly she is rocking her hips. Leaning on his chest for leverage, before she starts to push her legs to go up and down.

   While enjoying the sight of her taking pleasure in riding him, Wrex lets his hands wander from her thighs up to the hips, where bruises are already developing. He can't tear his eyes from the traces of his talons on her dark skin. A visible mark, that she belongs to him. The idea alone is making his head dizzy. He encourages her to go harder by meeting her hip movements by his own.

   Shepard moans in response. "Ah, Wrex." And is going faster with her rhythm. Her walls are already starting to close around him again. He increases in speed as well. With his hands buried in the flesh of her tights again, he thrusts up quickly and hard. Her skin is clapping against his hide and plates. It's music in his ears.

   Her moaning is getting louder and louder, encouraging Wrex to let go of his self control. Her whole body starts to shake from the intensity of her orgamsn, when he takes her with force. Alexis is so hot and almost painfully tight, Wrex can’t hold himself back any longer. He slams into her until his quad tightens, preparing for the elease.

   He comes undone in her with a loud and deep rumble in his chest. It is vibrating through his whole body and his vision goes white. Wrex is completely losing all his senses for a long moment.

   It takes him a while to come back. When he is able to collect himself again, he finds that the tip of his cock started to swell, same for his once blunt spikes.

   Wrex tears his eyes open, when he realises what just happened. He looks up at the Commander, who looks back at him with wide open eyes, stunned. "What the fuck, Wrex?” She asks, still panting.

   “Sorry.” He simply whispers, completely out of breath and still a bit dazed. Without a thought he adjusts his hips, causing Shepard to hiss in pain. His spikes are keeping her in place and punish even the slightest movement. “Shit, Wrex. What is that?”

   “I… got carried away.” He starts as he lets his hands fall back onto her thighs. “I… we are locked. Won’t last long, though. A few minutes.”

   It is silent for a few moments until Shepard realizes what's going on. “Did… did you just knot with me?”

   Wrex doesn’t answer, he is still catching his breath. He catches the faint sound of a chuckle and light touches on his mouth. Shepard lowered herself down as far as his spikes allowed her to to kiss him. “Should I feel honored?”

   “Not when you are so damn smut about it.” He raises his arms to hug her to him. “Just be grateful it didn’t happen in your mouth.”

   Another chuckle and then silence again. Damn, as mind blowing as this was, the krogan Clan-Chief is feeling exhausted. All his limbs feel like heavy jelly and his eyes refuse to open.

   Shepard nuzzles her head at his neck, slowly laying down on his chest.  For once she doesn’t say anything, just letting him hug her.

   Wrex is savoring the moment of having his human knot with him. He totally forgot this feeling. Until now he did it only once, when he still was a young and stupid krogan, just after his rite with a female he can’t even remember the name of. Ever since no other woman ever got him even close to knotting.

   Hell, if someone had told him, someday he would have Commander Shepard kept in place by his member, he’d simply shot the person for talking shit.

   The swell of the spikes and the tip is wearing off, releasing Shepard from their hold, but neither her nor Wrex make any attempt to move. Shepards thumb is drawing lazy circles on his chest and he does the same on her back.

   “I’ve missed you.” He feels her whisper against his neck.

   “Of course you did.” He earns a light punch on his chest from her in return but he just huffs a laugh. While still hugging her, he rolls them to the side, finally able to face her without looking down at her all the time.

   It should be weird. Finding peace and comfort in the arms of a female human. To knot with one even. But it isn't, it feels right. He still can't quite believe he is with her, that she is as attracted to him as he is to her. As strange as it is, Wrex wouldn’t trade it for anything, except for-

   “Commander, the Dallatras gave us the exact position of the krogan females and left the ship. Do you want us to set course?”

   Shepard answers Traynor with a simply “Yes.” Not making any effort to move out of her lovers arms. It will take hours to get to Sur'kesh anyway, a short nap won’t hurt. Slowly but surely the Commander drifts off to sleep, when suddenly she feels Wrex low voice rumble through his chest.

   “Hey, Lexis?”

   “Hm?”

   “I’ve missed you, too.”

#ao3 #shepard x wrex #Wrex #urdnot wrex #Fanfic #Mass effect #mass effect 3

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Sides (Part 3)

They take her and strap her down before she are gentle with her this time, but only so not to wake her before they finish binding her. This is how they always do it. Sedating her and then taking her is counterproductive, or so Sangyul says. "We're going for authenticity, so we can't have her all muddled by sedatives and drugs."

Aang thinks that this is an odd choice of words. There is nothing authentic about her treatment.

He watches her blink awake as they fix a final metal plate over her mouth. They do it just on time to keep her from breathing fire, but not before she can muster a cry of distress and anger. "Alright, Avatar Aang. She's all yours."

He takes an anxious step closer to her and tries not to look her in the eye. Her stare is always so cutting and furious before he tampers with the spirit energy behind them. Sangyul adjusts the bands of spirit vine that he has placed over her head. Aang inhales through his nose and touches his fingers to her forehead. He draws another deep breath and his eyes meet hers. It is only for a flicker but in that flicker he sees both resignation and a conflicting dash of defiance. Or maybe he has mistaken hatred for defiance.

He closes his own eyes and lets himself sink into the serenity that is the half state. Were he to open his eyes he would be able to see halos of color all over the spectrum. The nurses tend to have passive and stoic greys. Sangyul boasts the black-purple of ill-will and arrogance. Today, he has a small procrastinative peek, it is tinged with a fervent red.

He doesn't like to look at Azula's aura, seeing it is almost worse than seeing the look on her face. It's vivid brilliance has gone dull and muted. Once a tantalizing blend of passionate and powerful red, confident orange, and a delicate touch of soothing and intelligent blue it is now a dreary grey. The blue remains but it alludes to fear and a depressive apathy.

He can't see his own aura but he speculates that it might just look similar. He lets his spirit energy flow into her aura and into her mind. He braces himself for whiplash and the headache that comes with having to crumble her mental walls. Though it is more of an extinguishing; the wall that wraps around to protect her spirit is a fire as hotly blue as her physical bending. He doesn't know why he still expects it to be there, he has watched it dwindle from a roaring blaze to a bonfire , to a campfire, to a candle glow, and then to nothing but embers.

Even the embres have cooled to nothing.

His spirit energy infringes upon hers with a stomach churning ease.

A soft shimmer runs down the threads of her aura like a dew drop down grass. Starting from the front row and moving to the back, they flash and glint. It isn't always like this, the patterns of the blinking and glimmering are like a fingerprint of sorts. When he had taken Ozai's bending, his pattern was overwhelming; each thread with glint in an eye-searing uniformity before the glow fades for a moment. He thinks that it has to do with personality though he has hardly begun to theorize exactly why the blinks and flashes happen. He thinks that maybe it is more like a pulse; a sign that the person's spirit energy is still tethered to them. But then, wouldn't they beat in synchrony with the heart…

He cringes. He isn't paying attention. Luckily has has only tainted one thread, it is a rather rich pink. The pink of affection and love. White, pure and innocent white is the intention. Physically he grits his teeth. Spiritually he retracts his fingers for a moment. He resolves to keep Azula's aura as white as possible and keep the pink to a minimum.

.oOo.

"Unbind me, Avatar." She requests softly. "I'm not going to do anything."

"I know." Aang says.

"Can you loosen the straps a bit?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think that Sangyul will like that."

"I suppose."

The man steps back into the room. "Alright, Azula, how are you feeling?"

"How you want me to, I suppose."

His lip twitches. "We've discussed your sarcasm and witty quips. I suggest that you try to remember our conversation."

Azula nods.

"Let's try this again; how do you feel, Azula?"

She shrugs. "I'm not sure." She also isn't sure what he is playing at in asking for her opinion, she knows well that he doesn't care in the slightest. "I'm going to free you from these restraints and you are going to follow me." He turns to Aang. "I should like you to accompany us as well."

The straps fall away and she flexes her hands and fingers. She stretches her arms and legs and gets to her feet. They lead her down the hallway. "First we're going to pick out something to wear." He opens a door and gestures to the outfits spread out on the floor. "Pick one."

She furrows her brows. "I get to pick?"

"Of course."

There is an itch in her mind, it tells her not to trust them. It tells her not to get her hopes up. It nags her as she looks over the outfits. They range from elegant and formal to casual and plain. There are some articles from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe in the mix. But her eyes are drawn away from the Water Tribe furs, the fine Earth Kingdoms silks, and the extravagant Fire Nation kimonos to the expensive sets of armor. She misses wearing armor; misses the bulky feeling of protection, misses the powerful aesthetic it brings to her look, and-mostly-misses the confidence it instills within her.

There are several suits that stand out to her, one that is plain and sleek, not dissimilar to the one she used to wear. There is a second that has studs on the shoulder guards and jagged pieces that look like tongues of lightning for accents. There is another that bears the insignia of her nation. But the one she adores the most is the phoenix themed one. It does look rather heavy, but she isn't actually going into battle so she can choose aesthetic over agility. She manages a soft smile and points at it, "that one."

"Are you sure, Azula?" Sangyul asks.

She nods.

"But it is awfully heavy, don't you think? You aren't exactly in shape…"

She swallows. "I want that one." She insists despite a flicker of doubt. It would be rather humiliating if she put it on just to complain that it is too heavy for her more feeble condition. "I suppose that, that one is nice too." She points to the one accented with lightning filigree.

Sangyul scratches his chin. "Yes, that one would probably be a better choice. But I think that you should try one of these." He gestures to the Earth Kingdom silks and Fire Nation fineries.

They aren't awful, she doesn't exactly mind getting herself nice and pretty every now and again, but she is in the mood for something bolder. She casts a glance at the armor. "I suppose that it is a bit impractical to wear armor outside of battle."

"Yes!" Sangyul declares. "Exactly! Now which would you like, Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation?"

She brushes her hand over a Fire Nation festival kimono.

"Nurse Hanaki will show you to the changing room."

She finds that by changing room, he had meant taking her behind a four-panel folding screen.

It isn't comfortable having the nurse stand there and watch her but it is better than having Sangyul, his team, and the Avatar gawking at her. "Can you turn around?" She requests.

Hanaki gives an awkward shuffle. "I can't risk turning my back on you."

Azula turns away from her and with as much haste as she can manage swaps her current outfit for the new one. The nurse helps her tighten her obi and leads her back out.

"Wonderful." Sangyul replies. "I think that you made the right decision with that outfit. I think that we should apply some makeup to match."

She almost smiles, she does miss having a touch of makeup, but she doesn't even begin to smile before realizing that there is probably a catch. She knows that a touch of makeup is going to turn into more makeup than she has ever worn or has had a desire to wear. And by the time they are done with her face, it is accented in away that she almost can't recognize. It is a dangerous thing, she thinks. She doesn't feel like herself and now she doesn't look like herself.

Her stomach flutters as her mind starts to make the separation.

"Now, let's discuss your hair."

She jolts. She is grateful for the jolt, it brings her, to some degree, back to herself. She reflexively pulls a good portion of her locks and holds them against her chest. He leads her to a mirror and hands her a pair of scissors.

She looks at her reflection and then scissors in her hand. She likes how her reflection looks now, how her hair falls in thick and elegant waves. How her bangs so nicely frame her face, giving her delicate features a sharper edge. She isn't sure that she'd like how she'd look with shorter hair.

"Go on, Azula." Sangyul coaxes. "Cut your hair. Just under the chin will do."

She peers at the boy next to her and whispers, "I don't think that this is what I really want, Aang."

She can see Aang's heart sinking in his eyes. "I don't think that it is either."

"Azula." Only her father has ever spoken to her like that. So low, so cautionary.

She raises the scissors and cuts the smallest fragment of hair away and repeats on the next side. She watches the strands fall to the floor and her mind shifts again. It shifts to a night in her bedroom. A night when a disheveled reflection stared back at her. She puts the scissors down and allows the pricks of anger in her aura to unfurl. "I like it long."

"Azula." Sangyul warns again. He is in her face now.

"I like it long." She repeats flatly.

She feels the sting of his slap. "Cut. It." The man growls. "Or so help me."

Shock, it must be shock.

Whatever it is, those pinpricks of anger retract and she feels somewhat dizzy.

She feels the scissors being pressed into her hand again. "Cut. Your. Hair."

She swallows. "Yes, father."

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Aang #Aangzula #Fanfiction

[avehi-the-adamant]

Arathi Meetup

It was a beautiful day in Arathi. Raetos took a moment to take it all in. The fields still held signs of the battles that had been waged during the faction war: broken siege engines, catapults, pieces of armor and weapons scattered about. Still, nature was already beginning to reclaim the land, the grass spreading and growing tall to cover up the ground beaten down by cavalry. The sky was a perfect blue, not a cloud in sight. 

He allowed his companion to graze in the fields as he made his way into the ruins of Stromgarde. While parts had been reclaimed and rebuilt by the Alliance in the war, there was still a large part left untouched. The Lightforged’s hoof steps were surprisingly light for someone his size, moving through the environment without a sound. Compared to the Fel environment of Argus, this was nothing. 

He’d certainly seen a lot of what beauties Azeroth had to offer in his hunts for Avehi. First Northrend, then Pandaria, and now the Eastern Kingdoms. He wondered if Kalimdor would be next. She was easy enough to track down now. Surely, she felt relaxed enough not to try and cover up her tracks. That, and he was well attuned to her cold and necrotic aura.

He moved around a wall and unharnessed his rifle, having filled it with special rounds for his prey. He propped it up on the stone ledge, looking through the scope as the Ebon Knight came into view. He smiled, seeing her, already feeling his insides stir in anticipation. He took a moment to slow his heart rate, aiming carefully at her chest….

...And fired off a couple of pink paint rounds.

*Splorch! Splotch!*

Slowly, Avehi looked down at her chest plate. She didn’t so much feel the paint round hit, as low impact as it was on her plated armor, but the sound caught her attention on its own. She snarled as she beheld the fresh pink stain on her tabard-- one of her prized possessions. Avehi had kept this tabard clean and serviceable for years following her demise. Washing it, sewing up holes and tears, and overall maintaining it as meticulously as she maintained her armor, weapons, and even herself! And now… paint? She eyed the stain’s splatter, judging well enough the trajectory of the projectile that did this, and turned her gaze up towards the stone ledge.

“Raetos!”

The Death Knight reached out her hand, calling upon the necrotic power she had mastered over the years to reach out for him. A shadowy tear ripped through the space between them in a harsh and jagged line as the darkness gripped at the Lightforged. She pulled at him, yanking him down from his perch towards her! She could immediately feel the tingle of his opposing Light suffusing as the tendrils of darkness connected between them… and couldn’t help but smirk.

“Hehe! Gotcha!”

Raetos grinned widely, victoriously. Like a child who’d just won a game. Even having just been yanked over by Avehi’s creepy magic, he couldn’t help but be in a good mood.

“I’m gonna be straight with you. Had no idea you could do that. Creepy as fuck, but pretty cool move.”

He reached out to loop an arm around her waist to pull her against him.

“What other surprises do you have in store for me, My Lady?”

“Tch… only a fool would reveal all their tricks at once, yes?” she grinned back at the Lightforged, his playful mood contagious.

Nonetheless, she pushed away from him, putting a bit of distance between them as she looked around. Her icy gaze scanned over the entry paths, and other stone outcroppings like the one on which she’d spotted Raetos. Her tail twitched warily for a moment, before she returned her attention to the other Draenei.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, bluntly. “You came alone?”

“Pff! Of course I came alone! You think I’m stupid or something?”

As she moved away to look around, he couldn’t help but fire another paintball into her thigh at close range. He’d managed to keep a firm hold on the rifle in one hand despite her surprising magic.

“Hah! Gotcha again! Man, you would be extra dead if Argonas was still on your trail. Dude, that guy is PISSED!”

She scowled at Raetos, letting out a huff.

“Enough of that. Or it’ll be the only kind of round you ‘unload’ today.” she warned him.

Getting shot again hadn’t soured her mood, but the mention of Argonas certainly had. She took another quick glance around the worn-down fortress, before turning and stepping inside a nearby decrepit old building-- motioning for Raetos to follow, of course. 

From the look of it, the structure used to be a house. Possibly an inn. The mantleplace was the only part still more or less intact. Floorboards were warped and uneven, stairs were chipped and eroded, and the only furnishings left  were a well-built table, a few chairs, and a faded chaise lounge that probably looked really fancy in its prime. She drew Rokaa from its holster with a light flourish, spinning it once before she leaned it against the fireplace. Then, she drew a small cloth from her inner pocket.

“I’m not surprised Argonas is upset. You spoke with him, then?” she asked, as she began to wipe the paint off her thigh. “I’m not pleased it took Khanaros’ orders to keep him from interfering, but I suppose it’s preferable over sending him to join his wife directly…”

Raetos’ tail swayed as he followed the Ebon Knight into the tiny inn. He still couldn’t get over how small humans built things… still, it would do well enough. He walked over and placed his rifle down next to the hammer, before drawing his sword and doing the same.

“Oh, those orders aren’t gonna stop him,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “Bumped into him at the bar. He told me all about it. I had to talk him out of hunting you down, despite the Grand Vindicator’s orders. Bought you some time, telling him I’d keep an eye on you and report any illegal activity you might be doing out here.”

He shot her a smirk, “So, you’re welcome.”

“Mm, I’m so sure.” Avehi rolled her eyes, as she finished wiping down her legplate.

Next came the tabard, which she knew would be harder to clean. Still, it had to be done before the stain set. She pulled it up over her head, and laid it out on the table. She pressed her hand to the paint splotch, palm growing cold with icy power. The paint solidified, and became easy enough to slowly scrape off in solid chunks before setting into the fabric.

“I know Argonas well. A command from Khanaros is the end of it, for him.” she nodded. “What did he really say about all this?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But the guy has gone unhinged! He thinks you and Mierne are working together and are controlling the High Vindicator. He feels it’s his duty to deal out justice because he accuses Khanaros of being unable to make proper decisions because of Mierne. The guy is going rogue. Gotta say that Mierne chick sounds hot. Did you know she seduced Argonas on more than one occasion?”

“Mm, I’m well aware…”

She continued chipping off the last of the paint from her tabard, casually. Waiting for Raetos to chuckle and finally tell her what really happened. But as the silence drew out between them, she turned, brow furrowed.

“... You’re serious, then? Argonas really thinks that?” 

She set her tabard aside, and stepped towards the Lightforged.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

Raetos blinked, looking confused, “I just told you. He said the High Vindicator’s judgement is skewed because of his relationship with Mierne. He told me that it was up to us to bring about ‘the Light’s justice’ ourselves. I told him he couldn’t just go against orders and had to be patient. I told him the best course of action was for him to stay put, because everyone knows how emotional he’s being about all this, and in exchange, I would stay close to you and report any illegal activity, creepy raising corpses excluded, obviously.”

He went about removing his shoulder gear, followed by his gauntlets.

“I mean, you want his exact words?”

He puffed up his chest, placing his hands on his hips and giving his best Argonas impression.

“The High Vindicator is not of sound judgment in this matter! He is far too close to the issue to be impartial! It falls to us to do what he is unwilling to do. It is our responsibility to see justice is met, Raetos!”

He shot Avehi a grin, “How was that?”

Avehi blinked. She nodded slowly, unable to help but be impressed by Raetos’ eerily accurate impression of Argonas. She almost had a mind to put that incredible mimicry to better use, if she weren’t so upset with the subject at the moment...

“Pretty good, I guess.” she shrugged. “But that doesn’t bode well. If he’s so upset that he’s willing to go against the High Vindicator about this…”

She trailed off, continuing the thought internally. Raetos was right; he was clearly unhinged if he was considering such possibilities! The Light was dangerous enough, but Avehi had put faith in Khanaros, at least, limiting how it was deployed. But if an emotionally unstable Vindicator like Argonas was talking about starting to take the Light’s justice into his own hands, that was dangerous. For everyone. She sighed; only one clear solution came to mind. Argonas was too dangerous to be kept alive.

Her gaze flickered back to Raetos, as a soft smile crossed her lips.

“You… did that for me? Talked him down so he wouldn’t keep coming after me, himself?” she asked, stepping in a little closer to Raetos. “Thank you, Raetos. Truly. That means… well. It means quite a bit, that you’d intervene on my behalf.”

The Lightforge’s face flushed, and he brought a hand behind his head. His tail swayed widely behind him in excitement, knocking over a chair.

“Well… I mean. I enjoy spending time with you. And while I admit I don’t understand a thing about all this world of the dead and raising people business, if the High Vindicator thinks it’s worth looking into, then so do I. I don’t want to see you hurt, and if staying close to you means keeping Argonas off your trail for a while, then win-win, right? Temporary, I know. But… gives us time.”

A mixture of emotions fell over Avehi. Flattery and gratitude, of course. But spoiling them both came a sense of worry. Of concern, aside from the new ones brought on by this information about Argonas. No, concern that perhaps Raetos was taking things too seriously between them. Just what was he expecting through all this? She had begun to enjoy the time they spent together as well, but… she couldn’t see herself going to such lengths to prolong the time and opportunities for them to meet up and get intimate with one another.

All these feelings, of course, remained well hidden behind her facade. She remained smiling softly as she beheld the Lightforged, glowing like a beacon in the dimly-lit and run-down house. She tried to put it from her mind, instead electing to believe he was simply being selfish; maneuvering amongst Argonas and others to maximize his chances to get laid. Surely that was part of - hopefully all - he was going to such lengths to accomplish. And for his efforts, he surely earned one such chance here and now.

Without another word, she stepped in, pressing her cold, plated body against his as she claimed his lips with a kiss. Her hand came up behind his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him into the intimate gesture. Her other slipped to his side, tugging at his girdle while she began to grind her hips against his. This was all she really wanted with him. And all he really wanted with her, too.

… Right?

#character story #Raetos #Arathi Highlands #Argonas the Ironclad #Mierne the Persevering #Khanaros the Inexorable #Warcraft #Draenei #Death Knight #Vindicator #WoW

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

Scavenging gone awry

/”What, are we, looking, for out, here, again...?”\

“...Light bulbs...and, fuses.....oh, and some more wiring....”

/”....And, why, is, that.....?”\

“...Now your just being an ass....”

The conversation between Guardian and Ghost whispered softly between the desiccated remains of the Moth Yards as they slinked from craft to craft. Her Ghost had difficulty managing the volume of his voice, the tones often garbled or cut with a sharp screech of feedback...Not that she was overly concerned about alerting any of the pockets of Fallen.

Devils in small groups steered clear of her...it would seem their ancestors passed down the tales from the Dark Ages about a Skull Headed Risen with Heavily Ornamented Robes armored in the Plate From Their Brethren...and it would seem that they heeded those legends still...even if the Eliksni plate had been replaced by that of Guardians...

/”Well....we, wouldn’t be, out here....in the, cold...so, far, from, home.....if, you, would, have, read.....the, manual....you, found....”\

An abrupt wave of her hand told Rev that his Warlock was done with the conversation as her fingers pried open an instrument panel inside one of the planes. Setting the plate down at her feet she went about picking through the fuses, leaving burnt ones in their sockets while holding good ones out for Rev to store.

/”Not that, your, bothered, by, it....but, there, is, some.....movement, out, there....”\

“You sure it’s not another flock of birds...? Or a gust of wind blown snow....?”

It was her turn to be a ‘jerk’, however her amusement was cut short when a wirerifle round skimmed her back. Chirping an ‘I TOLD YOU SO’ her Ghost promptly vanished as she ducked behind a stand of crates.

Grumbling at the sudden boldness of the Devil she chanced to peek between two of the boxes, she didn’t like what she saw...

While most of the time they seemed content to be in their own little groups it would seem the Devil’s decided it was time to stack up and put up a fight.

Even though this time around she didn’t do anything to provoke them.

Figuring they wouldn’t take kindly to her trying to verbally dissuade them from  their current course of action she drew Haunted Earth from under her Wolf’s hide cloak, wiggled the magazine because it like to jam like a jack ass if not seated right , and rolled around the edge of her cover, popping off a handful of shots in an attempt to scatter them from the exit.

Seeing that it worked, the seven or so Vandals dipping quickly to each side of the cargo bay’s open door to hide from the incoming fire, The Ram took the opportunity to bolt down the gang way.

Only to be cloths-lined by an admittedly beefy looking Captain...

The sudden arrest of her momentum and change of view left her stunned a moment on the ramp long enough for the Captain to grab hold of the front of her robes and lift her clear off the ground.

He chortled something then, a phrase a kin to: Oh, how the mighty have fallen... giving her a rough shake before slamming her back down onto the frozen metal.

Her teeth rattled and her already garbage vision hazed at the edges, the laughter of the group seeming distant and muffled....

But, the Warlock’s daze would only last so long and the keen sense of a knife glancing off the plates hidden with in the layers of her robes drew her to a semblance of awareness that a Dreg had taken to sitting on her abdomen, making quick and sharp jabs with his knife in an attempt to, finally, find a gap in her armor...

With a yelp the woman jolted, bright red blood staining the first inch of the Dreg’s blade as he pulled it back, the wound steaming slightly in the cold air as warm blood soaked into the surrounding fabric. A gleeful chitter coming from him at the sight and sound she made.

The sound was cut short however. The Captain had let go of her when the Dreg took his perch, a mistake that would cost the little Fallen some teeth as her fist met his jaw...

From there the others watched in not so silent amusement as the pair wrestled on the snow covered ground. Blood soon coated the snow in not so subtle pools and when it became obvious the Dreg was loosing the Captain stepped in, kicking the Warlock hard in the abdomen, the snap of ballistics ceramic plates giving him the impression he’d just broken some ribs...

The Dreg scrambled away, nursing a broken arm, muttering soft curses as the Captain sized The Ram up...

Easing to her feet, letting the stab wound in her side bleed freely, the Warlock straightened with a groan.

“...Yeah....no....I’m, not in the mood to play today.....”

She muttered as the Captain laughed, he rumbled something as he stepped up to her, reaching out and grabbing hold of the broken horn on the left side of her helm, easing her head back as his other three hands explored her neck, shoulders and chest...his lower right hand closing around her side...his face dipping down to hover inches in front of her helm’s nose as he purred.

“...Hatiaskis....”

The name, given to her by the Eliksni long ago, sent a shiver through her frame in his grasp, the shudder interrupted by his thumb plunging into the stab wound the Dreg left her with and when she didn’t make a sound he pressed deeper, his upper right hand pulling harder on her helm, his upper left closing around her neck while the lower gripped her hip...

If he wasn’t trying to rip a hole in her side with his thumb and if she wasn’t taking pot shot swings at him and growling an onlooker might think he was fishing for a kiss...

When her initial swings did nothing to make him let go she did the next best thing and rammed her thumb into one of his eyes, something he was all to eager to slam her on the ground for... blood streamed down his face as he tried to stomp on her, but her quick skittering managed to get her out of the way just barely...only to bump into the Vandals hemming her in...

“......Fuck....”

She murmured as she scrambled to her feet and just out of reach of grabbing hands, putting her head down she literally rammed her way passed an individual who thought he could get her, sending him staggering back and away in mild shock as the Captain thundered after her....

Pot shots were taken and grenades were thrown, some missed...some not so much, if a Dreg or Vandal were particularly quick they managed to get a few hits on the Warlock with their fists or melee weapons...

Occupied with trying to loose them she blatantly ignored the dropping temperatures, the howling wind and eventually the blinding snow forced her to stop running...or rather the fact that she ran head long into the exposed stone of the bottom of the Moth Yard’s cliffs forced her to stop running....

Regaining her footing she held her hand to the stone as she walked, feeling the wall as well as out in front of her to make sure she didn’t run into anything else...until her hand slipped into an opening in the wall....

Curious and blindly thanking the powers that be for a literal hole in the wall to duck into and out of the blizzard, she took the opportunity to disappear into the opening. Drawing a deep breath, taking a few clicking steps inside and out of the wind she let her Helm’s display adjust to the dimness of the cavern.

Only to find herself staring at a handful of Fallen, who were staring back at her, just as shocked as she was....

“Er.......”

She murmured, bringing her bloodied hands up slowly to show she was unarmed as she took a few steps backwards towards the entrance, thinking to make a hasty escape...

@aurea-fide

#[Tales of the Void] Starter #sorry it took so long ; n ;

[kiraziwrites]

So the other day someone asked @shipping-receiving about post-S8 fics that touch on the fate of Brienne’s blue armor, and I said that I’d toyed with the idea of including a discussion of it in A Great Fountain, but it ended up just being a passing mention.

Well, somehow that turned into a thousand words about sheets, steel, and sentiment. The following outtake/bonus scene is set a few weeks after the events of Chapter 8 (but can be read as a standalone one-shot). Enjoy.

Unarmored

They’ve wrecked the bed. 

“Have you got any spare bedclothes?” Jaime asks, stretching, feeling as lazy and self-satisfied as any purring lion. He’s sprawled across the rumpled covers, enjoying the warmth of the morning sunlight on his bare skin. “I think these will need replacing.”

Brienne flushes, a delightful spectacle. “I’ll take care of it,” she says, pulling her shirt over her head. “Later—it’s almost time for the morning muster.”

“Let me,” he insists. “I’m perfectly capable of making a bed,” he adds, picking his wooden hand out the pile of discarded garments on the floor and waggling it in her direction.

She sighs, and gives way. “In there,” she says, pointing to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed.

“Good,” Jaime says. “I’ll fetch us some breakfast, too, if you won’t be long,” he offers. It’s a rest-day; she still has to assemble her men and review the rota for the shifts guarding the king, but he has no duties between now and the next sunrise, and once the muster is done, neither will she, unless she chooses to make some. He’s hoping she’ll come back, instead, and help him disgrace the clean bedding.

“Oh,” Brienne says, still pink. “No, that’s—I can get something to bring up.”

“Excellent,” he tells her, grinning. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite.” She shoots him a scolding look as she leaves, but she can’t keep her mouth from lifting at the corner, and that tiny, helpless smile warms him even more than the sunshine.

Jaime pulls up his breeches and straps on the false hand, and starts stripping the stained, torn sheets from the bed, leaving them in a heap in the corner. Some chambermaid will come by to collect them eventually. It’s not particularly discreet, but they’ve more-or-less given up on discretion; they’ll be married in a fortnight, and if the servants want to gossip about what they’ve been doing in the meantime, he can’t bring himself to care. Let them talk. He wants to shout it to the city walls, and beyond: she’s mine, and I’m hers; I’m here, in her bed. He opens the chest and starts to dig through the layers of socks and cloaks and blankets inside.

The sheets are easily located, but as he’s pulling them out, his hand brushes against something hard, buried in the bottom of the chest. He pauses, and reaches to draw out a bulky, clanking mass wrapped in canvas, setting it onto the bed in front of him. He unfolds the cloth, suddenly breathless. It—yes, it is. “Blued steel,” he’d told the armorer, long ago, “with layered pauldrons, and some extra room here, in the cuirass.” He’d seen the marks, in the bath at Harrenhal—the reddened abrasions where her ill-fitting, patchwork armor had ground against her skin. There’s still a faint, whitened patch just to the side of her right breast, where the edge of the plate had rubbed long and harsh enough to scar.

The steel has kept its deep color, although the metal is scored and dimpled, now, gone dull in places. He runs his palm over the surface, tracing the scrapes and lines left by edged blows. There’s one particular dent that bites deep into the left shoulder—he recalls, in a sudden flash, seeing her take that hit, on the ramparts in Winterfell, fighting his desperate way back to her side. He also remembers helping her out of it, unfastening it piece by piece, one-handed, on several of the nights that had followed.

He’s so lost in the memory that he doesn’t hear Brienne come back in—just the sound of a jug and plate thumping onto the table, and then her indrawn breath, when she turns to see him sitting there, hand still pressed to the armor.

“You kept it,” Jaime says, quietly.

Brienne’s face is solemn. “Yes,” she says, low-voiced.

“I’d thought you might have—left it behind,” he says. “If it reminded you.”

“No,” she tells him, coming to the bedside, gazing down at the dark heap of metal. “I wore it until the new ones were made, for the whole Kingsguard. It’s not easy to find armor that fits. I wasn’t—I wouldn’t have abandoned it, just because of—sentiment. Anymore than I’d have got rid of the sword, or Podrick.”

He nods, mute. The things he wants to say are lodged in his throat; he can’t quite seem to make the words come out whole.

“It did remind me,” she says, very softly, and he hears the ache in her voice; it resonates in his chest. “But I didn’t want to forget. Not any of the things you gave me. No matter how much it hurt.”

He puts out his hand, then, and she takes it and settles down next to him on the bare woolen mattress. Jaime exhales, and shifts himself back towards the headboard, so he can wrap himself around her and pull her close, until she’s sitting between his legs, her knees tucked to her chest, leaning back against him. He tips his head back, so she can fit hers just under his chin, like a puzzle piece, and runs his fingers over her wrist, feeling her pulse hum under the skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, for the hundredth time; the words no less inadequate than each time before. He’ll keep on saying them, even so, as long as she’ll let him repeat himself. “I’m glad you still have it,” he adds. “When I saw you, here, and saw you were wearing the sword, I—” he breaks off, unable to articulate the feeling. “I’m glad,” he says again.

Brienne turns up her palm, and laces her fingers through his. “I know,” she tells him, reassuring. The warm weight of her in his arms drives out the heavy feeling in his chest, and his mood lifts again, just like that.

“I do like the new armor,” he says, after a moment. “Much less gaudy than the last Lord Commander’s—that’s an improvement all round—and the color suits you, though it’s a pity it doesn’t match your eyes.”

Brienne turns them on him, then, shining bluer than any steel. “I thought you said you were going to make the bed,” she tells him, suddenly playful.

Jaime grins at her. “Yes, Ser,” he promises. “In just a moment.”

#a great fountain #jaime x brienne #idiots in love #armor #it will always be yours

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Dragon Age: Origins, day 8.

Heh, Alistair got in the killing blows on both dragons this time. Good for you, kid. Especially in light of certain planned future developments.

Daiwen was frankly horrified by Oghren’s attempts at flirting with Felsi and was in no mood to do his work for him, so I deliberately threw the quest to get them back together. Not that it ultimately matters, aren’t they married by Awakening regardless?

OK, now let’s go get Shale.

Daiwen’s default team for much of the game has been Alistair/Zevran/Wynne, aka Team Three Men With Very Sharp Blades And Their Spell-Slinging Grandma. I was about to give them another nickname, but apparently I’d forgotten that Zevran was an elf? Whoops.

Oh Maker, this puzzle. Time to make good friends with the walkthrough again.

And Shale has been grabbed, and several inventory slots blessedly freed up. Well, let’s start winding this up and go talk to Arl Eamon.

*sigh* Fine time for the game to get the crashies. I’ve had to play through the conversations with Eamon and Loghain three times so far, please let it not be more.

Hey, it’s Riordan! Time to have a nice long conversation so I can listen to his voice.

Oh look, it’s Anora. Wearing some absolutely unnecessary boob plate.

Under other circumstances, Daiwen might stand down, but Cauthrien was patronizing enough before that he at least wants the chance to punch her in the face. Churl? He’ll show you churlish.

OK, time to escape Fort Drakon. As funny as the rescues are, let’s try Warrior Boys Doing It For Themselves this time.

Well, that was quite amusing. Thanks, game.

And now we start getting the wheels turning on our Landsmeet plan. First up, convincing Anora and Alistair to get married. Oh, kid, I’m sorry.

It definitely adds to the creepy atmosphere in the orphanage when the game gets the graphical glitchies and refuses to load any of the floor or wall textures, so everything is just floating in an inky void.

Welp. Landsmeet time.

Cauthrien. Cauthrien. Looking a Dalish in the face and telling him that selling elves into slavery is fine if you really need the money? It’s like you want to die.

Oh shit, Wynne and Zevran are down, time to break out some health poutines. (What? That’s their name now. I have spoken.)

This is...quite a moment for you to be giving Daiwen that earring, Zevran.

Is that bird in the rafters meant to be a raven? A large-beaked, melanistic sparrow? An especially svelte kiwi?

Loghain has now been recruited. Oh, my heart. Oh, Alistair, I’m sorry. I am never doing this again.

I’m not sure how well I can justify it with this character, but fuck it, it’s done now. We’ll just say Daiwen has grown patient enough that the temptation of shoving Loghain in the path of some darkspawn for proper poetic justice became stronger than that to simply kill him like he would’ve a few months ago.

I am, as it happens, a sentimental old fuck with an overfull inventory, so I was half tempted to let Alistair keep Cailan’s armor as payment for being so mean to him, but...nah. Maybe Daiwen will wear it in Awakening and pass along the Juggernaut armor to Justice or something, I don’t know.

Welp. Dark Ritual time. Yep, I still hate this.

The point of recruiting Loghain was always to push him onto the grenade. It’s just a very differently shaped grenade now. Much more...curvaceous. (For me the player, half the reason I made Daiwen was to play through Awakening with him, so he can’t die, and the reason I wanted to try out recruiting Loghain was to see him as the Warden ally in II and Inquisition, so he can’t die either. So, Dark Ritual it is.)

It’s certainly not sparing Loghain’s life Daiwen cares about—he wants the extra insurance for his own. And Riordan’s, he supposes. He seems nice, and keeping one of the Wardens’ elders around can only be a good thing.

You know, as much as I loathe absolutely everything about the Dark Ritual, I have to give a special mention to the fact that the sex scene uses the same music as the ones from the romances. NO. GAME. YOU DO NOT GET TO DRAW PARALLELS BETWEEN THE ROMANCES AND THIS RAPEY-ASS BULLSHIT. STOP IT. NOW.

Whoa, when did it get to be after midnight? I guess I’ll continue the process of ripping my own heart out and stomping on it tomorrow.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #daiwen mahariel

[samyazaz]

A kiss for luck! I have no secondary prompt for that, it will be precious no matter what.

Phi's wearing her armor, and Terry his, and Quil expects to be anxious at the sight of it, expects the little frisson of nerves in her stomach and the tightness pulling through her shoulders, even though she's the one who asked for this. Well, she brought it up, in any case, though she meant to do so in passing. She hadn't expected the way it would make them both catch one another's gazes across the table, or grin slowly, or kindle a light of excitement and anticipation in their eyes.

She hadn't expected to almost immediately find herself down here on the training fields, leaning against the rail of the fence that surrounds it, watching the glint of light off the blades of their weapons as they stretch and warm up together. But the nervousness, of course she expected that.

Gari's there with her, because she'd caught wind of what was happening and had gotten the same, inexplicable look of delight that the other two had, and had fallen into step beside Quil as she'd followed them out here. She leans against the rail beside Quil now, but she's at ease where Quil has her hands knotted together before her, and she must be watching Quil and reading the tension in her, because she's quiet for a long moment, and then she says, "They won't hurt each other, you know. It's just sparring."

Quil makes herself take a full breath, and doesn't look at Gari, doesn't look away from the two of them, when she quietly answers, "No. I know. It's not that."

Gari's quiet another moment, though not so long as the last. "It's memories?"

Quil nods tightly.

And of course it's different, she knows that. There's the distant, indistinct sounds of palace life happening behind them, there's the sound of Phi's voice as she says something to Terry while they stretch beside one another, and the ringing of her laughter in answer to his reply. There's the weight of Quil's coronet upon her head, the responsibility that she carries with it, that's at once so much more and so much lighter than the weight of dread she'd carried that day. There's Gari beside her, easy and relaxed, and a bright, clear sky overhead, unobscured by dragon wings.

It's different. But even so, it's Phi and Terry standing before her, clad in armor, the whistle of their weapons through the air, and Quil can't help but be reminded of the last time she saw them like this, at least a little.

"I could play something, if you'd like," Gari suggests beside her. "Something to set the mood a little lighter."

Quil laughs softly, and shakes her head. "You were playing music that day, too."

Gari acknowledges it with a wry tilt to her lips and a one-shouldered shrug. "That's not the kind of music I meant. But as you like." She shifts, sliding down the rail, closer to Quil, so that when she leans in against it once more, their shoulders press firmly together. Her voice is very soft and very gentle when she says, "They only want to show off for you, you know."

Quil laughs again, a little tighter than the first. "I've already seen their skill. They don't need to convince me of it."

"That's not what this is. They've always enjoyed sparring with one another, but now..." Gari turns her head toward Quil. From the edges of her vision, Quil can see her grinning at her. "They've never had someone to show off for before, besides each other. I expect they're about to treat us to quite a show."

And that brings back an entirely different sort of memory, of lying in the grass with Terry beneath the canopy of the woods, of her hand caught in his and her breath caught in her chest, of Terry smiling at her, warm as the sun, and saying It might be our finest match yet, if we've got you to show off for, of the daring, breathless feeling of it all, like she was reaching for something forbidden, and Quil ducks her head and smiles despite herself, despite the senseless nerves dancing in her stomach, and Gari laughs in turn and rocks her shoulder against Quil's.

The sound of quiet footsteps through the grass makes her lift her head, and Terry's there before her, grinning at her, but the brightness of it is a little tempered, and there's a question in his gaze when she meets it. She smiles at him, and some of the concern clears away, and he comes up to stand before her with only the rail of the fence between them, and leans in close enough to make her breath catch in her chest, and he's still grinning when he brushes his lips against her jaw and murmurs, close against her ear, "A kiss for luck?"

And Quil laughs then, bright and clear, and covers his hands with hers where he's laid them on the rail, and turns her face toward his. His lips skim down her cheek, until she presses hers to them, and she bends across the rail to kiss him firmly, before she draws away.

He leans after her a moment when she does, then straightens, and his eyes are dancing, and Quil feels just as breathless as she had that day in the field outside their cottage, though perhaps just a little less daring.

"Hey now," Phi says, laughing, and Quil pulls back enough to see her coming up behind Terry, grinning at both of them. She adopts an expression of feigned outrage, once she's seen that Quil has seen the grin. "You wouldn't be trying to unfairly influence the outcome of the match, would you?"

"I might've," Terry says, with a wink for Quil, but he's already moving out of the way, making space for Phi to take his place. "You can hardly blame me for wanting to claim every advantage I can get. You'll pound me into the mud, if I don't."

Phi hums a little, unconvinced, even as her face is bright with humor and delight, so Quil schools her expression into solemnity and says to Phi, "You're right, though. A queen shouldn't show partiality to those fighting in her name." Quil reaches to catch Phi by the edge of her chest plate, and draws her in. "I'll have to bestow my favors on you equally, I suppose," Quil says, and rises up onto the tips of her hooves, to better reach Phi.

Phi's grinning when Quil kisses her, but when Quil loosens her hold on the edge of her armor and makes to move back, Phi curves a hand around her shoulder and draws her in again, tips her head to fit their mouths more closely against one another and kisses her properly, kisses her thoroughly, until Quil's heart is fluttering for reasons that have nothing to do with nerves or old memories, and she's flushed warm across her face and all the way down her throat, and she grabs on tighter and doesn't let go until Terry protests, laughing, "Now who's getting an unfair advantage? You gave her more luck than you did me."

Quil settles back onto the ground and grins at him over Phi's shoulder. "Another for each of you, then, once you've finished. And a third for whoever wins, to properly motivate you."

It makes them both beam, makes them both shine with anticipation and eagerness, but when Phi sketches an overly-elaborate bow to her and moves away from the fence to stand ready in the middle of the training field, Quil catches Terry's hand before he can follow her, and plucks a ribbon from the sleeve of her gown to tie about the handle of his axe. "To make it fair," she says with a wink for him, and leans in to kiss his cheek while he gives a crack of laughter.

Then she lets him go, lets him trot back to his wife, and can't help the grin on her face as she settles in to watch them. She's going to remember this, she tells herself, every detail of it, and the next time she sees them in their armor she won't think about them fighting to live, but will think about this moment instead, the two of them bright and happy and fighting for fun and for her kisses under the brilliant midday sun.

#answered asks #theladyragnell #memery #fic #the campaign of five dragons

[whitherwanderer]

A VERY LONG SURVEY; SAWYER

Tagged by: I just... decided to do it again, tbh.

Tagging: I can’t ask anyone to just fill it out on a whim, but I challenge my friends to do it! TAG ME, NERDS.

Notes: It’s under a cut for sheer length, but there’s good stuff in there. I particularly like the tropes bit under “Extra”, if you read nothing else.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Sawyer Arden Reeves

NICKNAME: Hawk

AGE:  33

BIRTHDAY: 32nd Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon (12/31)

ETHNIC GROUP: Hyur (Midlander)

NATIONALITY: Ishgardian

LANGUAGE/S: Common

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: She couldn’t care less.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Good luck.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:  Spoken for.

HOME TOWN/AREA: Ishgard, the Brume.

CURRENT HOME: The Crystarium.

PROFESSION: City guard, accepts independent contracts on the side.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Long, deep espresso color. Thick and stubborn. Refuses to be styled.

EYES: Brown, turns amber-colored in the light. Often sharp and set in a scowl.

FACE: Somewhat long, 

LIPS: Relatively full, often frowning.

COMPLEXION: Dark. Clear and well-kept.

BLEMISHES: None to speak of, except maybe the occasional dark circles.

SCARS: A few burns and faded scars on her hands.

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 5′6″

WEIGHT: Average.

BUILD: Athletic.

FEATURES: Nice arms, good for punching and for hugging.

ALLERGIES: Stupidity.

USUAL HAIR STYLE: Worn down at her shoulders, or occasionally up to get it out of the way.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Resting bitch face.

USUAL CLOTHING: Leather armor and steel-plate pauldrons, gauntlets, and boots. Lighter leather jackets and gloves for dexterity.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Drowning, being trapped, losing her independence.

ASPIRATION/S: Provide support for the people of the Crystarium, fix herself, maybe go home someday.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Studious, determined, passionate.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Reckless, willful, impatient.

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric-Melancholy. [ the four temperaments ]

SOUL TYPE/S: The Warrior. [ the seven soul types ]

ANIMALS: Red-Tailed Hawk.

VICE HABIT/S: Risky magic, speaking out of turn, doubting others.

FAITH: The Twelve

GHOSTS?: Maybe

AFTERLIFE?: Yes

REINCARNATION?: Maybe

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Probably a little progressive-ist? Transhumanist? She just wants to fix everything that sucks about life.

EDUCATION LEVEL: If GEDs were a thing, she’d have one, and quite a bit of “trade school” education in machinery and ballistic engineering.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Unknown.

MOTHERS:  Mathilde, deceased.

SIBLINGS: None.

EXTENDED FAMILY: None.

NAME MEANING/S: I just really like the name Sawyer. Might be a very obscure childhood reference by complete accident.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None!

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Buried somewhere in her various borrowed books on magical theory is probably some adventure tales she has a soft spot for.

DEITY: Halone, the Fury.

HOLIDAY: Little Ladies’ Day.

MONTH: Third Astral Moon (May).

SEASON: Spring.

PLACE: Her quiet apartment.

WEATHER: Thunderstorms.

SOUND/S: A crackling hearth, waves on the shore.

SCENT/S: Herbs, food cooking on a stove, floral perfume.

TASTE/S: Tea with milk, a lean steak, apples.

FEEL/S: Levin discharge, maintaining her grip when her weapons recoils, hands blindly familiarizing themselves with her.

ANIMAL/S: Chocobos, cats.

NUMBER: 5

COLORS: Red, silver.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Levin-based spells, thorough research, balancing things on her fingertip for an extended period, cooking.

BAD AT: Protective magicks, keeping plants alive, admitting she’s wrong.

TURN ONS: Careful physical attention and sentiment. Being able to openly offer the same.

TURN OFFS: Overly-froward propositions, uninspired flirting, heavy-handed gestures, underestimating her.

HOBBIES: Reading and research, ballistic weapon design, training herself to better wield a blade.

TROPES: The Gunslinger, Soul Jar, Light Feminine and Dark Feminine, Interspecies Romance, Translator Buddy, Sword and Sorcerer, Death is Cheap, and Artistic License - Gun Safety (because the mun doesn’t know trigger discipline to save her damn life).

QUOTES : “I learned the hard way that once your work is finished, it’s not liberating. It’s like walking into the cold dark with no idea where you’re headed next.”  

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?           A1: If it was focused solely on her, it’s likely be about her backstory and all that came before meeting Amesha.

Q2: What would their soundtrack/score sound like?           A2: I have a weakness for fantasy settings with modern instruments, so lots of rock and orchestral rock.

Q3: Why did you start writing this character?           A3: I wanted to play an angry spellslinger!

Q4: What first attracted you to this character?           A4: Guns + Magic = ???. I also needed a straight man character to sort of balance out absurdity in others’ characters, and Sawyer is a no-nonsense type.

Q5: Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5: Sometimes it’s difficult for me to maintain her grumpy, know-it-all personality when I am neither. I also often don’t know where to draw the line on “how blunt is acceptable before I just seem mean”.

Q6: What do you have in common with your muse?           A6: She’s thorough, introspective, and has some of my misanthropic mood swings.

Q7: How does your muse feel about you?           A7: She would hope that I’d give her a dignified and justified ending to her story, and maybe, just maybe, let her find peace.

Q8: What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?         A8: Other adventurers, other people currently residing in Norvrandt.

Q9: What gives you inspiration to write your muse?         A9: "Goth cowgirl aesthetic”, rock and metal with female lead vocals, Tomb Raider & Uncharted games.

Q10: How long did this take you to complete? A10: i GOT LOST IN TV TROPES AGAIN.

#[ the steel hawk ] #[ memes; sawyer ]

[rudra-writes]

Pallas and Telurin - Barfight with Barnaby, Return to Karabor (Part 1)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. Pallas and Telurin reach Karabor. Before returning to the temple, they stop at an inn, where they meet Vindicator Barnaby. Barnaby flirts with Pallas inappropriately, which starts a fight. Pallas consoles Telurin afterwards, then Telurin escorts Pallas to the Karabor temple the next day. As a death knight, Telurin is unable to remain at the temple, and the pair are temporarily parted.

Pallas and Telurin spend the day making a leisurely pace to Karabor. As they come within closer and closer proximity to the holy city, Pallas becomes quieter and smiles less. He knows he will be parted soon from the death knight. Had it been an impossible and childish wish after all, that they might remain together? Telurin had never made him any promises he couldn't keep. Even so, it pains him to think of being separated so soon.

Although they could have arrived at the temple before it became too late at night, Pallas has other ideas. He rides his talbuk closer to Telurin to speak with him, "Let's stop at the inn first?" In truth, he wanted to do more than merely have supper.

Telurin had watched the slow deterioration of Pallas's mood as the day progressed, though he didn't know the cause or the cure for it. He had, in fact, been mulling over this very problem when Pallas sidled his mount next to his and asked his question.

"Of course, Anchorite." The response was automatic, though the slight frown at the end was not. "I suppose you would prefer one last meal taken in leisure before you return to your duties." They were getting closer to the outskirts of the temple, and as such, there was increased traffic. Telurin touched Sugarfoot with a knee once he spoke, and the horse obliged by moving to keep a respectable distance between him and the Anchorite's talbuk. Pallas nodded. "And..." He breaks off as other mounted traffic passes them, draenei on talbuks or elekks, or elekks pulling carts. It annoys him that he cannot speak openly to his guardian. Perhaps a mental connection would benefit them in ways he had not before considered. After the other draenei had continued down the road he spoke up again, "...One last night spent in leisure as well...?" the priest asks Telurin.

The smirk Telurin sports as he looks over at Pallas is dangerously close to a leer. Even if Pallas had yet to touch his mind, that look is expressive enough to show the Death Knight's interest level has immediately spiked. He gives the same response as before, but this time, his tone is lighter, almost teasing. "Of course, Anchorite."

"Though I would hope you would assuage my concerns for your safety by allowing my continued presence until we reach the Temple itself. Not all dangers come from the road, after all." Again, the words themselves are bland, but it's death knight’s tone that gives them an edge. The very tip of his tail curls in amusement, the same that can be seen at the edges of his eyes.

Telurin's pleased response alone is worth it to Pallas. The Anchorite smiles faintly and tries to keep his own voice bland as well when he replies, "I suppose when you put it that way, I simply must insist you attend me." He sighs.

More mounted draenei came within sight of the pair on the road and the priest once again clammed up. Pallas found that the urge to continue talking to (and flirting with) Telurin mentally was strong. 'Maybe I could breach the subject with him this evening,' he thinks to himself. 'Even though I fear I shall only bind myself closer to him in the process, and hence, miss his presence more.'

"I am ever at your service." Telurin says with a slight bow, the motion constrained, being mounted. He plays the concerned and devoted guardian quite well, in part because it's true, in part because of countless years of long-ingrained obedience. When Pallas grows quiet, Telurin turns his gaze to the approaching draenei, going from at ease and expressive to alert and cold as he does so. Only when they drop their gaze from the slender Anchorite at his side does he relent.

Pallas can feel Telurin's fierce, even jealous protectiveness of him emerge around other living draenei. On one hand, he found it highly desirable and exciting, sending pleasant little shivers down the small of his back. On the other hand, it made him worry about possible confrontation.

He is relieved when the cozy, welcoming light of Karabor's inn finally draws up before them. Pallas turns to Telurin with a smile, "Do you want anything?" He was still carrying a generous bounty of coins on him from the dread raven Telurin had slain.

Telurin turns to look at Pallas and again, there is the slightest change in posture as the death knight settles. It's not overt, but to Pallas, who has by this point spent several days in Telurin's presence, it should be noticeable.

"A glass of brandy, if they have it." He replies, halting his mount only by sitting heavier in the saddle. "Otherwise I will see to my own provisions." Telurin dismounts, looping Sugarfoot's reins over the pommel of the saddle and catching those of Pallas's talbuk, and looks amused about having to look up to meet the Anchorite's eyes.

"Off with you. Get us a room and I'll deal with the stablemaster. If he's anything like the ones I've encountered so far, he'll need extra instruction in dealing with Sugarfoot."

Pallas laughs softly as he climbs down from his perch atop the rental talbuk. "I suppose you've earned a glass of brandy for your constant vigilance, among other reasons." He intends to enjoy Telurin's pleasant mood and company for as long as he can. The priest flits off to the inn to secure their room, looking over his shoulder at the death knight once before disappearing inside the warmly-lit entryway.

Telurin snorts at Pallas's reply, but he does watch the Anchorite as he flits off to the Inn. Sugarfoot follows him as he leads the talbuk to the stables and secures both of the mounts a stall and a brush down. The stable hand takes the talbuk and eyes the death charger leerily until Telurin gives him the command to listen to the stable hand and the big horse noses him experimentally. That, and a bit of extra coin was all it takes to convince the draenei that the undead horse is not going to turn on him the moment Telurin leaves.

The death knight lingers long enough to make sure both mounts are settled, and then heads into the inn to find his Anchorite, and have, what he hopes to be, a pleasant evening.

The inn is bustling with activity this evening and there are quite a few patrons on the ground floor enjoying their dinners and drinks. Pallas is inside, waiting his turn to speak to the innkeeper who is attending to the needs of two other travelers.

Standing next to the Anchorite, and not affording him very much personal space, was a tall, brawny-looking draenei with short black hair and skin the color of marble. He has prickly black sideburns and a pepper of stubble over his chin like a boar's bristles.

The draenei was grinning and talking to Pallas, whom he towered over. "Oi. Think you ought to come upstairs with me and look at that blade wound."

"I looked at it, it's fine," Pallas snips. The priest looks exasperated. "There isn't anything else I can do for it. Whoever treated you sewed it up fine, Barnaby, just leave it alone."

This apparently wasn't the response the other man had hoped to hear. The large draenei grins further, and steps just a little bit closer, "Sure you don't want to come upstairs with me, Sweetling...?" To convince Pallas of how excellent an idea this was, the large draenei lets one of his massive hands wander to the priest's backside, giving it a little squeeze. Pallas freezes and his eyes widen.

Telurin stops just inside the door, both to get his bearings in the crowd and to seek out where Pallas has settled. When he spies the Anchorite near the bar, waiting his turn to speak to the innkeeper he frowns, because there's another draenei leaning into his space, far too close and far too presumptuous for Telurin's liking and from Pallas's posture, the Anchorite's as well.

Telurin sets his jaw and starts in their direction, nearly there when Barnaby, as Pallas names him, has the temerity to put his hands on *his* Anchorite. He's close enough now to intercede, and he does, stepping bodily between them, simultaneously wrenching the offending hand off of Pallas and physically pushing Barnaby away from Pallas. Armor or no, the faint thrum of the Light as he comes in contact with the slightly larger male (how that vexes him to have to look up to meet his gaze...) as well as his build marks him as a Vindicator.

“True Vindicators,” Telurin sneers, even as frost begins to bloom around the edges of his plate, “Do not use their influence to intimidate Anchorites.”

#draenei #draenei death knight #Pallas #Telurin #Barnaby