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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in.

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

#captain syverson #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill

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rafael-silva · 3 years

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in only a moment’s time: a tarlos fic

Carlos looks over his shoulder and connects some dots in his head. “There’s a flower shop two or three blocks down,” he recalls. “We can save time if I go pick up the ones we want for my mom while you finish here,” he suggests. “Or whoever finishes first can meet up with the other.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” TK agrees and then returns the soft kiss Carlos brushes against his lips.

It was supposed to be a quick in and out at the florist before going to Andrea and Gabriel’s, but Carlos and TK’s day is quickly turned upside down and their plans ruined by a police chase gone wrong.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + ambulance ride

major character injury, hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, off duty injury, whump, angst, nonlinear narrative, gun violence, hopeful ending

3.7k | rated T | on ao3

thank you to jamie @firefighterreyes for reading through this and giving me feedback! and the title from I knew this would be love by imaginary future

*****

“You’re okay, Carlos. Stay with me, babe, stay with me,” TK pleads, ignoring how his voice breaks and instead tightens his hold on Carlos’s slack hand.

His bloody slack hand. And TK’s hand is covered in blood, too. It’s covered in Carlos’s blood. TK’s stomach churns and twists in an unnatural way when his eyes move from Carlos’s ashen face and land on the amount of blood coating their joint hands, staining their matching silver bands.

There’s so much blood. Carlos is losing so much blood.

But he doesn’t have much time to think about it because in the next moment, his head is quickly snapping up at the paramedic’s urgent voice. TK watches with horror as Carlos’s vitals drop dangerously and his own heart sinks into his knees.

The ambulance starts to move, the sirens wailing in its wake as they speed towards the hospital. TK watches the paramedic work frantically from the corner of his eye, work to stabilize Carlos but TK can’t really spare him a full glance, his attention solely focused on Carlos.

The officer’s skin is pale and clammy, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and his breaths coming short and quick, fogging up the oxygen mask covering most of his face. Tears build in TK’s eyes, terrified he’s about to lose Carlos.

He feels helpless, he feels that Carlos is slipping right through his fingers and—

No. He can’t lose Carlos. He can’t.

TK can’t help but wonder if there were anything he could have done differently, if anything could have changed this outcome. If anything done differently could have made it so that Carlos wasn’t currently lying on a gurney, barely stable.

TK can’t control his mind when it takes him back in time. When it takes him just thirty minutes back in time, when he and Carlos were walking side by side, holding hands and laughing, the silver spark TK loves glittering in his fiancé’s eyes. And now Carlos is fighting for his life, now TK can’t see that spark and it feels like his own light is slowly fading away…

*****

“We have space in the fridge, right?” Carlos asks, he and TK stopping to stand in line to use the ATM.

TK thinks back for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Good, because you know mom will be packing up some food for us to take home with us,” Carlos chuckles. “I think she automatically adds portions for us while she makes lunch.”

TK nods, a smile spreading on his face. “Her food is amazing.”

“It is,” Carlos agrees. “And the food she packs for us lasts a while, makes me think I could stop cooking and we can just have her food.”

“Carlos Reyes, that implication wounds me, don’t you dare stop cooking,” TK gasps, playfully hitting Carlos’s shoulder. “As much as I love your mom’s food, and trust me, I do love your mom’s food, your cooking has a special place in my heart.”

Carlos chuckles again, lifting their connected hands to brush a kiss to TK’s knuckles. “Well, in that case…”

TK’s smile widens, brilliant and bright. “I am excited to have lunch with your parents, it’s been a while.”

It was deemed near impossible for Carlos and TK’s schedules to line up together for a day off in the past month. They’ve both had hectic shifts that seemed to drag and never end, shifts that were always opposite each other. One of them gets home just as the other is about to leave, barely giving them time to spend together. Their time together was either spent taking a quick shower together or having breakfast or dinner before one of them had to dash out the front door with a soft kiss brushed to the other’s lips and a promise of I’ll be careful.

And aside from their frustration at the lack of quality time they had together, they were also pretty down by the fact they couldn’t go over to Andrea and Gabriel’s as it had been established.

Since their engagement, Carlos and TK would go over to the Reyes’ once a week and it had become a ritual all of them loved and looked forward to, until the misalignment of Carlos and TK’s schedules had broken what was becoming their tradition.

They would make it work when their schedules were in sync and even opted for breakfast or brunch when Carlos and TK had shifts on the days that worked best for Andrea and Gabriel. It was important for all four individuals to have that time together, for them to grow even closer and strength their relationship.

There were the infamous Sunday dinners at the Reyes ranch they go to as well, Carlos and TK always happy to see Tia Lucy and the rest of the Reyes family, and the feeling was reciprocated, with the family always happy to see the young couple, too. But they had regrettably missed a few of those, courtesy of their jumbled work lives. TK remembers coming home from shift to find Carlos on the phone with Tia Lucy, promising they’d make it to the first Sunday dinner their schedules allowed for.

And soon, it seemed a higher form was finally in Carlos and TK’s corners and they found themselves at the Reyes ranch the following Sunday.

“Mom and dad are really looking forward to it, too,” Carlos replies. “They really missed having us over. And mom is making your favorite.”

The line moves up just as Carlos’s phone pings in his pocket. He fishes it out and his smile widens at the screen.

“Mom just replied,” he tells TK. “They don’t need us to pick up anything on the way, she says they just want us to hurry over because they miss us.”

TK chuckles. “As soon as this line moves some more.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” TK agrees and then returns the soft kiss Carlos brushes against his lips.

Carlos squeezes TK’s hand before letting go and making his way down the street, almost speed walking down the block.

TK’s eyes follow Carlos until he disappears down the road and then moves up on more spot in line. He pulls his phone from his jeans back pocket and starts scrolling through his Instagram feed to kill some time while he waits.

TK isn’t sure how much time had passed by when the all-too familiar ring of a shot has TK’s head jerking up so fast he thinks he gives himself whiplash.

And with a sinking feeling, he realizes the sound came from the direction Carlos had walked in.

*****

The ambulance hits a small bump but TK barely feels it. He closes his eyes, sending a prayer that today isn’t the day he loses the love of his life.

He squeezes Carlos’s hand, his heart breaking some more at the lack of response from his fiancé. At the absence of his loving and comforting touch, at the absence of the warmth that always radiates so brightly from him. The warmth that has become TK’s home and his sanctuary.

Part of him is scared beyond words he’ll never get to feel that warmth again.

TK’s a paramedic and he knows Carlos is in rough shape, he knew the moment he found him. He’s seen this so many times, how quickly it happens, how—

TK shakes his head, he’s never given up on Carlos and he isn’t about to start now.

He does his best to expel those intruding thoughts and he faintly registers the paramedic’s voice saying they’re three minutes away from the hospital.

“Stay with me, babe,” TK whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “Please.”

Dread stirs in his stomach when Carlos’s numbers keep dropping, the only response he gets…

*****

Carlos had just finished paying for the bouquet when his ears pick up on the sound of commotion getting louder and louder outside. It’s a stark contrast to how calm and quiet it was when he first made his way to the shop. He frowns, quickly thanking the florist and makes his way out of the store.

The door hasn’t even fully closed behind him yet when he spots three uniformed officers running in his direction, and his eyes track their movement to find a middle aged man running ahead of them. He immediately recognizes him as the perpetrator, and the atmosphere around turns heavy and tense.

His training kicks in and his concern shifts to the civilians standing around. He wants to help get them to safety, to move and guide them away from this chase. There aren’t that many people but it’s still a considerable amount, but they start yelling and dispersing when they notice what’s going on.

It turns into chaos and the fact that any of them can get hurt, that an innocent person can get hurt, powers Carlos’s legs to move. He’s about to speak up while digging his hand into his pocket for his phone to call TK when he spots the gun in the perp’s hands.

The gun that is being waved around and is being aimed at the officers.

He follows the trajectory and Carlos’s eyes go wide when it leads straight to a little girl standing alone in the line of fire, fear etched on her features.

They make eye contact for a moment, Carlos immediately noticing the tears staining her cheeks and her shaking body. His heart pounds harshly against his ribcage and the next thing he knows, he’s in the middle of the sidewalk, directly in the line of fire, his body curled around the little girl and a loud bang is heard.

Everything is still and silent for a few seconds and Carlos doesn’t move.

And then he feels the pain, it comes all at once, spreading and flaring up through his entire body and tears start stinging in his eyes. He draws in a deep breath but the smallest of movements makes the agony worse, makes the fire in his nerves burn hotter and he feels paralyzed. He pushes through it, wanting to make sure the little girl is okay and that no one got hurt. He vaguely recognizes his own voice when he asks her if she’s okay and he only half registers her small nod in response.

His hand goes to the source of the pain and it comes back wet and sticky.

Add pressure, his tired head supplies. He does his best but he has to stifle a groan at the wave of pain that shocks his system.

His vision blurs, the sounds and voices around him fading away, even the ones coming to his aid and the ones yelling to call 911, it all feels so far away now. He sways dangerously to the side, losing his balance and then everything is sideways.

A moment later, his sight narrows and darkness creeps up on him. And his last thought before he gives into the darkness is a name.

TK.

*****

TK hears the paramedic in the front radio dispatch about Carlos’s condition, giving them live updates so the hospital is prepared when they arrive. He’s done that himself so many times, taking updates from Tommy and Nancy and had that back and forth with dispatch but it never had his hands shaking like they are now.

He sucks in a lungful of air and shakily exhales. He leans closer to Carlos, and even though his eyes are closed, TK hopes he can hear him.

“You’re going to be just fine, babe, I’m right here and I promise I’m not going anywhere. We’re almost at the hospital and they’re going to help you and you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” TK sniffs. “You’ll get better and we’ll continue planning the wedding, you know our parents have so many ideas and opinions and we gotta work through all of that together.

A little heavy voice at the back of TK’s head whispers, if you get to have a wedding…

TK silences it.

“I’m pretty sure your mom’s binder for the wedding is now twice the size it was last time,” TK lets out a wet chuckle, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I need you, babe, I need you so much and just…please, please, hang on.”

TK’s hand is still shaking when he reaches out and threads his fingers through Carlos’s soft and loose curls, TK loves them when they run wild. He then brushes a stray curl back from Carlos’s forehead, the same one that falls over the officer’s forehead when he sleeps. He brushes it back in the same manner he does on the rare occasion when he wakes up before Carlos, smiling when Carlos gravitates towards him even in his sleep upon his soft touch.

But Carlos isn’t asleep right now and TK is painfully aware of that fact by how cool Carlos’s skin feels and how still his body is. Carlos isn’t a fidgety sleeper, he doesn’t twist and turn often, he’s quite calm but there are small movements that TK had noticed over the years they've been together, small movements that are Carlos; a soft sigh, a light turn, nuzzling his face against the pillow, an arm tightening around TK’s middle, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way Carlos’s eyes move a bit under his closed lids when he’s dreaming. And all of those little things are absent right now, their absence breaking TK at his core.

He wishes this were a dream, that he’d wake up and they’d be in their bed, safe and sound, wrapped in each other’s arms and he’d get to experience and witness all those little things again. He already misses Carlos’s touch.

But he knows this is reality, because if this were a dream, he would have woken up already.

It’s not a dream, but it is a nightmare.

*****

TK’s legs move on their own accord while his brain works on catching up with what he just heard. The logical side of his head tells him to wait, that maybe running in the direction of danger isn’t the best idea but he pushes it to the side, not giving it another moment of thought. He can’t. He needs to do one thing and that is getting to Carlos, to see him and to make sure he’s okay.

Something in his gut tells him that Carlos isn’t okay and that instinct has him breaking into a full sprint.

It’s easy to spot the group of people gathered around on the sidewalk and TK’s heart plumes into his stomach when he notices the havoc is right in front of the flower shop. He scans the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of his fiancé, any sign to tell him that he’s okay, but as the seconds tick by and he gets closer with no sign of Carlos, the hot pit in TK’s stomach gets bigger and bigger.

He knows Carlos would have jumped into action at hearing the gunshot, but he’s worried that that took a turn for the officer. That’s when TK’s eyes catch the blue of Carlos’s shirt through gaps between the crowd, the blue of the shirt TK loves, the blue that’s too close to the ground for it to be anything other than what TK had feared, what he felt in his gut since hearing the shot echo off the buildings and ring in his head.

He can’t control the mix of a gasp and sob that escapes him as he yells Carlos’s name.

“Carlos!” TK’s voice pierces even his own ears. “Let me through! He’s my fiancé!” He pushes through the crowd, fighting to get to Carlos as his heart rages in his chest. “Let me through! I’m a paramedic!”

TK finally breaks through the crowd, spotting the bouquet that’s now on the ground, the flowers scattered and broken. He wastes no time in dropping to his knees next to Carlos and pushing two fingers against his neck. He holds his breath, waiting for that thud…one, two, three. TK’s shoulder slightly sag forward when he finally feels Carlos’s heart beat against his fingers.

He can hear someone on the phone with 911 but it’s in the background, all his attention is on Carlos. The momentary relief at finding a pulse is quickly replaced with fear as TK registers the pool of blood already formed underneath the older man, staining the asphalt crimson.

The blood seeping out of a bullet wound in Carlos’s stomach.

Carlos’s head has lolled to the side, his eyes closed and no, no, no, this isn’t how the day was supposed to go, TK thinks as he clamps down both hands tightly over the wound, ignoring how his stomach twists at the sensation of Carlos’s blood seeping through his fingers.

“Carlos? Carlos, can you hear me?” TK speaks, hoping his voice is steadier than it sounds to him.

He presses down harder and the action has Carlos gasping, his eyes flying open and drawing in a deep breath which is immediately let out through a series of groans.

“Hey, babe, hey, look at me, look at me,” TK guides Carlos, who’s eyes roam around for a few moments before finding TK’s worried ones.

“TK,” Carlos breathes around another groan.

“I’m here, I’m right here, just focus on me,” TK continues, his eyes never leaving Carlos’s.

“Hurts…tired,” Carlos whispers, his eyes beginning to close again.

“No, no, you have to stay awake, babe,” TK doesn’t hold back the panic anymore as it coats his words. “I know it hurts and that you’re tired, but you have to stay awake for me, can you do that?”

And when has Carlos ever been able to refuse TK anything? So he slowly nods, fighting against the pull back into the darkness and focuses on TK.

“‘m sorry…”

TK’s eyebrows knit together. “For what?”

Instead of replying, Carlos uses all the energy he has to lift his hand and places it over TK’s.

TK doesn’t need words to know what Carlos means, to know what Carlos is saying. They don’t need words to understand each other, their connection much deeper than that. TK’s heart breaks some more at the realization that Carlos is saying goodbye.

“Hey, no, no,” TK shakes his head. “Don’t say goodbye, we’re not done yet, you hear me? There’s still so much for us to do together, to experience together and this isn’t the end. It can’t be, I won’t let it be. We can’t lose all that we are and all that we will be. Just stay with me, baby.”

Tears are now streaming freely down TK’s face and he doesn’t move to wipe them and where is the ambulance?

Carlos lets out a shaky sigh and he barely responds when TK’s hands press down even more on his stomach in hopes of controlling the bleeding.

The lack of response from Carlos has TK’s blood running cold.

“I’m scared,” Carlos’s voice breaks, the tears swimming in his eyes bringing out the brown of his irises.

“I’m right here, I’ll be right by your side, I’m not going anywhere,” TK is quick to reassure him. “I won’t let go.”

Carlos blinks and sends a tear rolling down the side of his face, disappearing into his hair.

“Can you…” Carlos starts but pauses to breathe. “My parents…they…our day…”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it, I promise. And we’ll have plenty more days with them. Just save your strength, okay?”

And then the air around them is filled with the sound of incoming sirens, far away but getting closer by the second.

“You hear that, babe? Help is almost here,” TK says and moves to plant a kiss to Carlos’s forehead. “Hold on, babe, hold on,” he whispers against Carlos’s skin. “I love you so much.”

“Love…you,” Carlos replies with a hitch in his voice.

And when TK pulls back and looks down, Carlos’s eyes had drifted shut.

“No, no,” TK’s tone is laced with desperation and fear. “Open your eyes, Carlos, open your eyes…baby…”

He doesn’t hold back the wail that tears through his throat when Carlos’s eyes eyes remain closed.

TK still fights against the thought that Carlos had said goodbye.

*****

It’s a fury of action when the ambulance comes to a halt at the Emergency Room entrance. The doors are ripped open and a doctor and two nurses are standing by the rig. The information starts rolling off the paramedic’s tongue as he gives them a rundown of Carlos’s condition and injury.

TK is frozen in place, hearing the words but they’re not quite sinking in as the other paramedic jumps out of the front and rounds the ambulance. The two paramedics get Carlos out and TK watches as they push the gurney into the ER, moving quickly through the sliding door and through the hallways. TK knows he should follow but he still can’t get himself to step out of the ambulance.

Instead, he repeats the words he heard over and over in his head.

Vitals low but stabilized, bleeding controlled…

He feels his knees go weak and scared he’s going to topple over, he falls back onto the small cushioned seat.

He thinks about the promise he made Carlos and suddenly his phone feels very heavy in his pocket. He knows he has to make that call, he knows it’s going to break his heart all over again and he doesn’t know if he can get through that call without breaking down. But he will pull his phone out of his pocket. He will dial the number but right now, he can’t tear his gaze away from his closed fist. After what feels like an eternity, he slowly opens his palm and a choked sob echoes inside the ambulance.

TK stares at the ring sitting in his hand, Carlos’s ring.

He tilts his hand and the sun catches the engraved words written inside, Yours forever

He closes his hand again and brings his fist to rest over his heart, feeling it thump against his own skin.

TK prays he’ll get to slip the ring back onto Carlos’s finger and Carlos will reply with the smile that’s reserved for only him.

And eight days later, he does and the smile Carlos gives him brings the light back into TK’s world.

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

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Fighting for the Future

I’m a little late, but @stanuary is extending into February, so I’ve still got time to post this!

Sequel to “The Good Old Days?”

* * *

Stanley Pines sat in a bright white, featureless holding room next to his brother, trying vainly to rub the dull, persistent ache out of his back. Just a few minutes ago (but also several thousands of years ago? Time travel was confusing) he’d been back in his teenaged body, and it’d been great! All the aches and pains of old age, gone! It’d been well worth the price of the emotional instability that came with the late stages of puberty. Then the time cops had to come along and drag them back to where-ever and when-ever this was, putting the elderly twins back in their 63 year-old bodies.

The worst part was, they were expected to battle for their freedom in some sort of gladiatorial deathmatch called Globnar. Stan had heard Mabel mention it in passing a couple of times, and from what he understood, they’d be better off in young, limber bodies.

Ford was slightly more anxious about the whole thing. The old researcher had been thrown into a couple of actual gladiatorial rings while he was trapped wandering the multiverse, and he was not looking forward to doing it again, even if Stan did have his back this time. Stan, on the other hand, was hardly concerned. This was the kind of deathmatch that a couple of twelve-year-olds could win. It was going to be a cinch.

The brothers looked up when one of the time cops that had arrested them, Dundgren, appeared in the cell.

“Ok, it took us a while to find someone willing to go up against the guys who defeated the great and terrible Bill Cipher, but we’ve finally found you an opponent for Globnar.” He pressed one of many buttons on his gauntlets and a hologram projected out of his cybernetic eye. “Behold, Dohs Hunthou! The defending Globnar grand champion, with more wins to his name than any other in all of time!”

“You want us to compete against the grand champion for our freedom!?” Ford protested. “Isn’t that a bit unfair?”

“It’s two against one.” Dundgren pointed out.

“Yeah it’s two on one, but we’re old!” Stan countered. “‘Course, if you let us use some time-travel stuff to not be old…”

“De-aging and rapid-aging power-ups are available in several rounds of Globnar.” the time traveler assured them. “It will be up to you to use them as you wish.”

“Power-ups? Seriously? What is this, a video game?” Stan rolled his eyes.

“No. It’s the future.” Dundgren said solemnly. “... By the way, before I go, could I get an autograph for my kids? They’d be really disappointed if I met the guys who defeated Bill Cipher but never got any proof or anything.”

“Um… ok?” Ford agreed, pulling out one of his fountain pens. “W-what do you want us to sign?”

Dundgren’s cybernetic eye focused in on the elder twins, there was a flash, and a little polaroid picture popped out of the time cop’s breastplate.

“Could you make it out to Bobitha and Towch?”

* * *

It wasn’t long before the elderly twins were brought before the Globnar Stadium. Hundreds of people cheered from the stands, all of them wearing ridiculous black clothes with glowy, colorful lines all over them. Stan decided he hated this place.

Standing before them was their opponent, Dohs Hunthou, and he wore the most ridiculous get-up of all. Stan wouldn’t place the guy’s age over 35, and he was jacked. He had a sort of fancy ponytail at the top of his head, a close-cut beard, and a scar across his left eye. His sleeves were ripped off, and his boots reached all the way up to his padded knees. He had spiked gauntlets and only one shoulder pad. Basically, he looked like one of those over-designed muscle-bound guys from one of Soos’s 90’s comics.

“So, you two are the ones who dare challenge me, Dohs Hunthou, the greatest Globnar Champion of all time?”

“Buddy, we didn’t challenge you. You challenged us.” Stan pointed out.

“Our battle will be legendary!”

“Is he even listening to us?” Ford muttered to his brother.

“Yeah, I get the feeling this guy’s a little detached from reality.” Stan nodded.

“Hey!” The time gladiator snapped at them. “Take this seriously! I’m not some push over like that loser the 21st Century children faced! I am the greatest Globnar Champion of all time!”

“Yes, so you’ve mentioned.” Ford said flatly.

“Forgive me for not taking the death-match set up like a video game seriously.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Can we get this started?”

“This is the first Globnar match we have held since Time Baby was disintegrated.” A robot informed them. “Normally he would have started us off, and been the time keeper. Now, we must rely on the Time Board.” It gestured up to a huge scoreboard that towered over the stadium.

“You mean, like, a normal sporting event?” Stan asked.

“We have not had what you would consider a normal sporting event in over sñeventy hundred years.”

A bell rang out across the stadium, signaling the beginning of the match.

“Alright, where are the gladiator weapons?” Stan rubbed his hands together excitedly.

“Oh, we’re not starting with the hand-to-hand combat round.” Hunthou corrected them with a smirk. “The Time Board will determine what our first round is!”

A seemingly endless list of events scrolled across the screen at lightning speed, before randomly stopping on “Clean Their Clock”.

“Gladiatorial Time combat involves washing timepieces?” Ford asked in confusion.

“Not exactly. It’s derived from an ancient idiom!” Hunthou raised his arms in the air. With a zap a strange costume formed around him. It was like he was in a small, grandfather clock-shaped mech suit. His head and torso were visible through the window where the pendulum would normally be, with black mechanical arms and legs sticking out of the clock’s tower. Another zap placed the elder twins in the same costume.

“This is stupid.” Stan grumbled as he looked down at himself.

“Yes, that’s one constant I noticed while traveling the multiverse. The more technologically advanced a society becomes, the more they use it for really stupid things.” Ford agreed.

“Now, I’m here to clean your clock!” The time gladiator lunged at them.

The brothers stumbled out of the way. Stan tried to follow up with his own left hook, but the awkward mech suit restricted his movements, and he whiffed the blow. Ford’s attempt to grab their opponent in an arm-bar didn’t go much better. Hunthou jabbed his mech’s elbow into Ford’s gut, winding him. A little cuckoo bird with glowing blue eyes popped out of a window above the clock face of Ford’s suit. A buzzer sounded from the Time Board. Stan growled and charged at the time gladiator, body checking him to the ground.

Hunthou pushed himself back up, letting his momentum catapult him back into Stan, kicking him in the face. Stan’s cuckoo sprang out too, and the blue and green lights around them turned red.

“Dohs Hunthou wins round one!” The robot running the show declared.

“How many rounds are there, exactly?” Ford asked.

“As many as the Time Board decrees.” The robot answered.

The brothers shared a grimace. They’d already taken some hard blows just in the first round. How long could they keep this up?

* * *

The list of events were scrolling by on the board once again. This time it stopped on “Time Dogs”.

“Alright, leave this one to me.” Stan assured his brother. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of angry guard dogs.”

A platform raised before the combatants, stopping at about table height. A couple of blue disks appeared on top. Stan raised an eyebrow. Was he going to have to play frisbee with a vicious Time Dog?

Then a heap of foot-long hotdogs appeared on the disk. Or, as it turned out to be, plate.

“Oh, that kind of dog.” Stan smiled. “I think I’m still the best man for this job.”

“You said it, not me.” Ford replied sardonically.

Dohs Hunthou stood over his plate like a man about to spring off the high-dive.

“Begin.” The robot declared.

Stan began shoving hotdogs into his mouth, barely taking time to chew. Hunthou picked up his plate and tilted his entire pile of hotdogs into his gaping maw.

Oh, two can play that game! Stan thought as he observed his opponent’s tactics. He opened his mouth as wide as it would go and leaned over, bringing the pile of hotdogs right to him.

It was a close match, but after a couple of minutes, it was clear that Hunthou was slowing down, while Stan was still going as strong as ever. Still, the time gladiator refused to yield, slowly slipping one hotdog after the other into his mouth.

Ok, time to start playing dirty. Stan ballooned out his cheeks, not a difficult task when they were overstuffed with meat and bread, and turned to his opponent, rolling his eyes and wiggling his ears.

Hunthou choked, whether from shock or laughter was hard to tell. It didn’t really matter, as long as it got the guy to stop eating. A buzzer sounded, and a robot came forward to give the time gladiator the heimlich maneuver.

“Pines twins win round two!” The head robot declared.

“Yeff!” Stan cheered through a mouth-full of food. He swallowed it all with a big gulp. “Never have an eating contest with a former homeless guy! Pines! Pines! Pines!”

“Pines! Pines! Pines!” Ford joined in his chant.

* * *

The next round was “King of the Clock”, which wasn’t too different from a game Stan and Ford used to play as kids, “King of the Hill”. The main difference was, the high place you were trying to claim was the top of a giant rolling clock, and you won by rolling over your opponent.

Just trying to get on top of the giant rolling clock seemed impossible to Stan. It was at least twice as tall as he was, and it didn’t sit still either. Hunthou did some sort of fancy parkour jump up the side and onto the top, his legs running backwards as he began to roll the clock in the twins’ direction.

“Stan, give me a leg up!” Ford directed him.

The old con man gulped, but interlaced his fingers, giving his brother a place to step. Stanford dashed forward, springing up from the platform of Stan’s hands, and lunging to the top of the clock, where a well-timed somersault kick managed to knock Hunthou from his place and help Ford balance himself as the clock continued to roll forward. Stan dodged out of the way as Ford did his best to change the clock’s direction. The old scientist managed to swerve the clock to the right, and into Hunthou’s stunned body.

The buzzer sounded again, and the clock disappeared before it could completely crush the time gladiator. Ford fell to the ground with an oof.

“Pines twins win round three!” Their robot host announced.

The Pines brothers gave a High Six and started chanting “Pines!” again.

Behind them, Dohs Hunthou growled dangerously.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #My Writing

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lordseochangbin · 4 years

Text

Heart Stop: Runner’s High (1)

A/N: New series because I really like writing series now? Yes. This was supposed to be on Wattpad only but a few moots requested for it to be on here and It makes me happy thinking you guys are going to read so thank you <3

Word Count: 1.6k (Like I said.. meant for Wattpad kdfjskdfsk)

Heart-stop: A condition known to two lovers once they have met their one true soulmate and will look no further.

“You’re acting up again Chris, stop it” You gritted your teeth, hands bunching up the ends of your dress to keep your sanity together.

“Who are you talking to?” Hyunjin asks, looking at you and proceeding to eat his sandwich.

“My heart, it’s doing that stupid thing again” He gasps mid-bite into his sandwich surprisingly, jumping up on his feet and frantically pulling out your heart rate monitor from your backpack.

“SHIT ITS A HEART ATTACK” Hyunjin shrieks, pulling the monitor closer to you and you pull back. “No, no Hyunjin it’s fine it’s just-”

“SHUT UP YOU'RE HAVING A HEART ATTACK” When he clasps the wristwatch around your wrist you roll your eyes. You should have never told Hyunjin about your condition.

“Y/N I swear to god your mom said if you feel anything weird I have to check-” A beep comes from your wrist and you watch Hyunjin as his fearful expression disappears. “Oh, you’re just fine” He says, collapsing down next to you and clutching his hand to his chest. “Thank god, I got seriously worried”

“Hyunjin, you’re such a drama queen. Chris and I are used to it at this point- don’t worry”

“Why did you name it Chris anyways?”

You scoff at his question, “Are you not aware of the hottest most amazing most talented most beautiful most sexiest Australian on this planet?”

Hyunjin smirks at you as a pack of swimmers run by, raising his eyebrows at the tall blonde as the boy laughs with his group of friends. “Is it Ch-”

“Chris Hemsworth, duh Hyunjin” You say, completely ignoring his gestures and picking up his sandwich.

“You’re not going to eat that are you?” Hyunjin says as you dust off the part of the bread that touched the ground.

“I made this sandwich for you, I deserve it” You smile, watching as Hyunjin looks at you in disgust.

“Ugh, your behavior sometimes y/n”

»»————-　♡　————-««

MJ’s university was one of the most top ranking universities in all of Korea. It held high standings in all sports and academics as well as in music. At first, you wanted to go to school with your best friends Seungmin and Jeongin but after MJ gave you a full scholarship to join the school your mother forced you to.

Luckily Hwang Hyunjin was in the same shoes as you were, his dancing abilities were top-notch, winning awards and recognition. But that was never what he wanted, to grow popular and famous. He just wanted to be an ordinary student, so he hung out with normal people- like you. At least that’s the way you saw it.

“You’re not going to the swim meet today?” Hyunjin asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you walked off the Campus’s entrance. “You know I don’t go to those things, it’s mafia night with the boys again. Are you coming?”

Hyunjin clicked his tongue before responding, “I can’t make it, but beware of Felix. He’s tricky”

You laugh to yourself remembering the last time you guys played, Felix cheated during the entire game and knew everyone’s roles.

“Alright, have fun watching men pretend to be fishes” You wave off, Hyunjin waving in response before a large group of girls holding posters and wolf plushies could come swarming in.

“BANG CHAN BEST LEADER” They all chanted, running past you and causing you to drop your books. Your jaw dropped in silence as papers flew out from between pages, your notes now scattered on the cement floor.

“Bang chan best leader” you mocked in a girl-like tone, picking up your books and fixing the notes before one paper could fly away.

You looked up to catch the paper as it flew past the wind, the sun blinding your view as the paper leaves your sight only to be caught by a tall figure.

“That’s right, ‘Bang Chan best leader’” He said, handing the paper into your hands.

“O-oh, thank you” You stuttered, taking the papers from his hand. Without a response, he simply left you sitting on the concrete ground, your knees starting to ache. Brown hair, squirrel-like features. He was cute. You wanted to follow him inside.

But mafia. :(

»»————-　♡　————-««

Twenty-two years of hard work and practice made what the teenager (basically Stays) would call “Best Leader Bang Chan”. He was the captain of MJ University’s swim team and also a member of a company taking swimmers to the Olympics.

“C’mon man, you got it mann” Jisung said sarcastically, trying to cheer his friend up as he slumped against the lockers.

“Who are these amateurs Jisung? Don’t they know I’m going to win anyways?” Chan said, scrolling through his phone.

Jisung threw out a hand for Bang Chan to get up, “But they want to see you win, just do it Chan” Bang Chan threw on a pout before his mother could come in, “C’mon Chan” She rushed in, throwing him his swimsuit that was on the ground. “Get ready!”

Jisung eyed Chan as he walked over to get changed, hoping that Chan would be in a good mood for the rest of the day considering he practiced during lunch.

When he came out Jisung reached out to Chan as he walked by. “Good luck hyung”

Chan walked out of the lockers, tossing a towel across his shoulder as his mom followed beside him.

“Remember Chan. The scouts for Olympics are here today”

Chan rolled his eyes as he opened the doors to the crowded natatorium.

“Welcome to the MJ University’s April Compo! We have a dashing line this afternoon” Girls cheered from left and right as Chan’s mom grabbed him by his ear, pulling him closer to her lips. “Ignore me one more time and I won’t let it pass. The scouts are watching you” She whispered harshly before letting go.

Chan eyed the two men in suits, full attention on the line of swimmers as he joined them in his spot.

“And there's our favorite Bang Chan!” The announcer called as Chan got up to his diving board.

Suddenly his goggles came on and he was face down looking at the water. What was this feeling he was supposed to have? The crowd is screaming, the countdown is ticking, and the timer is just about to start.

Chan stares plainly at the water, unamused, uninvited. Why couldn’t he feel the adrenaline that many others recall when they are in his position? Why can’t he feel the excitement, exhilaration, and euphoria when he stands-- the runner’s high? Has swimming become so accustomed that he cannot feel anymore?

A loud buzz is heard before Chan dives into the water. He doesn’t like the coldness and the taste of chlorine yet he strives through each movement, his body moving fluidly through the water ahead of him.

The underwater feels so normal that he doesn’t even have to take a breath, his heart continues to beat normally and his pressure is completely fine. He touches the wall before any of his competitors can.

“And that sets a new record for Bang Chan! Congratulations!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you okay?!” Jeongin asks, pulling you over to the couch and propping your legs up as you fists start to clench.

“J-Jeongin, the medicine!” Seungmin says, running over to the two of you with a glass of water and two tablets. You desperately grab for the pills and swallow them, your fist banging on your chest as if it would make it better.

It happened every time. It started with hiccups, then your knuckles would turn into a fist, and then your heart is contracting. It’s begging for help. It’s calling your attention and your mind is on overdrive trying to find ways to make it stop. Your thoughts flow to why this had to happen to you, a couple minutes of pain and you can’t form words until someone else could put the pieces together and give you the two magical tablets.

And rest.

It’s an ongoing cycle. Has been since you were six and you can’t help it. Doctors can’t treat it nor cure it. They can just give you pills to make it stop.

Sometimes you wish your heart could just stop all together.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You lost the bet again!” Minho laughed, nudging Chan to the side before Jisung could join. “Now you have to listen to us hyung!”

Chan simply rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face as he looked back at the two guys. “Okay, which girl are you going to make me talk to for you this time?”

Jisung hugged the elder as he pointed in your direction. “Her..”

“Isn’t she your noona?” Minho chuckled, watching as you stepped past the entrance.

“Yeah, but only Chan can get her attention,” Jisung replied.

“Why’s that?” Minho asks, clearly not impressed.

You watched the ground as you clutched your notebooks to your chest, making way through the people in the hallway and just as you were about to pass him, Chan turned around.

“Cause I’m a nice guy” Chan started, brushing with fingers through his hair and showing off a dazzling smile, “who just has a lot of money”

Walking away from the two youngsters, Chan turned around in the midst of his steps as if to say ‘watch and learn’ before he could bump into someone.

“Oh, sorry” You said, looking up at the boy and walking around him.

Usually Chan wouldn't have to make a move. Even though the incident was unintentional, he simply couldn’t speak.

Turning around, his eyes glowed at your figure and suddenly the world revolved around you. He could feel the adrenaline. The euphoria. The ecstasy that no pool or cranky mother could make him feel.

“Hey- wait!” Bang Chan called after you in the midst of breaths, but you never responded.

What was this feeling?

»»————-　♡　————-««

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afni-fics · 3 years

Text

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 11: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 2)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 11: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 2) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read Summary:

Deeper into the Bleak Falls Barrow goes Tim and Lucien.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

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

As Tim led the way further into the depths of Bleak Falls Barrow, his mind began to wander as he examined the ruins and artifacts he found with Lucien.

"I wonder what my parents would have thought of exploring a place like this," he thought to himself as he picked up a book from a nearby table and swept a thick layer of dust from the cover. Idly, but carefully, he opened the book and turned a few pages before closing it again and offering it to Lucien. The scholar cooed over it with delight and began rambling about the tome's age, history, and how well preserved it was.

Tim smiled sadly as his inner thoughts lingered on his memories of his biological mother and father, Janet and Jack Drake. "Mom and Dad always seemed happier when they were on archeological digs than they ever were at home in Gotham." The young man moved on a little further down the hall, zeroing in on some new carvings that were hidden behind a curtain of spider webs. "Even with the bandits and the death traps, this has been interesting and kinda fun. I wonder... If I could've spent time with them on digs like this... Could we have been a better family?"

His thoughts were interrupted when a new voice echoed from deeper down the hall.

"Is... is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?"

"Did you hear that?" Lucien asked as he put the book into his backpack.

Tim nodded as he nocked another arrow to his bow and began to follow the sound of the new voice down the hall. Once he got to the end of the hall, the serious expression on his face deepened.

"Well, shit..."

Lucien nodded in agreement. "I suppose the ancient Nords who built that trap earlier had to get their spider venom from somewhere."

The entrance into the next large room was covered in curtains of spider webs from floor to ceiling. As Tim tried to peer deeper into the room beyond the curtains, while he couldn't see any giant Frostbite Spiders, he could see lots of web covered skeever and human sized victims littering the walls and floors along with lots of large round pods that Tim reasoned looked like giant spider egg-sacs. He felt a shiver race up his spine.

"Spiders... Why is it always spiders?"

He turned to Lucien and told him to wait there while he went to investigate. Cautiously, Tim crept into the room, cutting a small piece of webbing so he could try to slip in without alerting the creator of the web.

Unfortunately, even those small precise movements were not enough to go completely undetected. Tim froze in the shadow of a nearby pillar as a gigantic Frostbite Spider lowered itself ominously from the ceiling by a single slender web. The beast was far larger than what he'd experienced in the caves beneath Helgen. The body of the spider was easily comparable to that of a large horse, and the addition of the eight long spiny legs seemed to double, even triple its visual volume and height as it moved about the room, looking for the intruder upon its nest.

Fortunately for Tim, it was about that time that owner of the voice who's led him here started screaming bloody murder and getting the spider's attention.

"Hey you! You've got to get me outta here!" an elf trapped in a wall of webbing shouted at the top of his lungs. "Kill the damned thing before it eats us both!"

As soon as the spider turned its full attention to the elf, Tim immediately pulled the arrow back and let it fly at the spider's now exposed abdomen. Though the arachnid was clearly armored with a thick exoskeleton, from the back Tim's arrow was able to slip between the layers of the abdominal plates.

The spider gave off a horrible screech and raised up on six of its legs as it spun around to turn its full attention on Tim. However, it got another arrow in one of the fleshy parts of its mandibles before Tim dashed off to the side. Tim knew he needed to keep his distance from the spider if he was to have any chance of killing the beast.

Suddenly, he stumbled and hit the floor hard on his left side. Tim bit back a cry as pain raced up his burned left arm. A quick look at his feet revealed a fresh glob of sticky webbing that effectively glued him in place as the wounded spider stalked toward him. Tim struggled to free himself, but it was no use! The webbing was too sticky and stretchy. He'd never free himself in time.

The spider was practically on top of him now, rising up and exposing its fangs when out of nowhere a stream of icy shards slammed against the spider from the back. The spider rose up again in pain and screeched. The momentary distraction was what Tim needed. Quickly, he pulled out one of his daggers with his good right arm and lunged upward, stabbing it into the spider's exposed sternum, burying the blade into the creature up to its hilt.

Screeching, the spider scrambled backward both away from Tim and the the constant shower of icy shards. But it was too late for it. Within moments, the giant beast fell down dead to the Barrow floor.

Tim stared at the dead spider as he struggled to catch his breath and calm his racing heart.

"That was too close."

Tim moved his gaze and looked at Lucien. His eyes were drawn to the scholar's hands, which were covered in a sheen of frost. "That ice... was you?"

Lucien nodded as he rubbed his hands together and breathed into them to warm them. "I told you I knew a few spells. Unfortunately, I haven't had much practice using them in actual combat." As of to explain further, Lucien aimed a hand at the spider corpse and seemed to try and fire another blast of cold at it. However, whatever spell he was trying to cast seemed to sputter out at his fingertips. Lucien winced, as if he had a headache. "I'm really quite useless as a mage." Then he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a vial of blue liquid.

"You saved my life," Tim said as he pulled out his second dagger and used it to cut away the webbing at his feet. "I wouldn't call that useless." Tim tilted his head at the liquid Lucien was now drinking. "What's that?"

Lucien paused. "You don't know what a mana potion is?"

Tim suddenly became more focused on the blade as he freed his feet. "I'm guess it's a mage thing?"

"Yes," Lucien said tentative. "I forget you have no experience with magic. It helps me regenerate the energy I use to cast spells more quickly. Kind of like healing potions, but for mages. Speaking of which," Lucien pulled out another vial, this time filled with a now familiar red liquid. "Do you need this?"

Tim almost said no. However, as he rose to his feet, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his left elbow straight up to his shoulder. With a murmur of thanks, Tim took the vial and drank its contents as Lucien went forward to speak with the trapped elf in the webs. It was still a strange sensation to him, feeling the healing liquid work its magic to mend his injuries....

Or at least attempt to mend them.

While the pain had been dulled, there was still a deep ache in the muscles of his upper arm. Tim tested his left hand grip on the blade of the dagger he tried to retrieve from dead spider. With a grimace and a sense of trepidation, Tim noticed that he just didn't have the strength to pull the dagger free, not without a solid spike of pain that forced him to release the blade before he could hurt himself further. Then he switched his hand and found he could easily remove the dagger with his right.

"Hey! Get back here!"

Tim turned to Lucien, who now stood before an empty doorway where the trapped elf once hung.

"What happened?" Tim asked as he sheathed his dagger and picked up his bow.

"That Bosmer bandit ran off!" Lucien said in an offended tone. "Apparently he's got some artifact that's a key to the secrets of this Barrow. Something about a claw and a door in a place called the 'Hall of Stories'. He said he'd show us what it all meant if I cut him down."

"So you cut him down."

"So, like an idiot, I cut him down, and he took off almost as soon as his feet hit the ground."

Tim smiled reassuringly at Lucien and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry... We'll catch up to--"

Suddenly, they heard a blood curdling scream reverberate through the halls from the direction the elven bandit had run.

"I think something has already caught up to him," Lucien remarked uneasily...

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

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2: Part 2 of Tim and Luci's trek into the Barrow. Here they have their run in with the giant Frostbite Spider and "Arvel the Swift". In the first screenshot you notice the book is glowing. This is from a mod called Unread Books Glow SSE (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/20679). This is a brilliant mod because any books you haven't read yet glow, and the color changes depending on if they're quest books, skill books, spell books, or just books for character/clutter/something interesting to read. It's an extremely useful mod for any playthrough of Skyrim!

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

#elder scrolls dc #fanfiction #tim drake fanfiction #skyrim fanfiction #tim drake #red robin #lucien flavius #batfam #crossover #wip #afewnovelideas

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alicemitch09writes · 4 years

Text

bad girl

pairing: Miya Atsumu x Dancer!Reader

summary: (lol it's not what you think it is)

author’s notes: lol this was originally set to be a birthday fic to my friend, @hitsuackerman (who is my friend IRL btw) but I got lazy and sleepy and had to stop. also, I've hit a pretty HUGE block. ALSO, this was pretty much an excuse to write Rinrin dancing, because he's the only one I could think of (next to my bby Osamu) who'd be perfect to this dance. Please check it out, it's so mesmerizing to watch (think of Rinrin as the guy with floppy hair or the bucket cap guy). Also, in honor of my friend, the match up's with her foot (atsumu, i call him a foot. YES)

also available on ao3.

“Rinriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!” a voice rang at the gym door, as a familiar (h/c) girl appeared – grinning ear to ear, eyes filled with pure unadulterated excitement, wearing a tight black shirt, and the standard Inarizaki sweatshirt (red jacket, white pants), but her white jogging pants were folded up to her ankles.

Lazily, said middle blocker raised his head to his childhood friend. “What,” indifferent to the stares.

Without another word, a blur of white, red, and (h/c) swoops to grab her friend to his feet. "C'mon!"

Sighing, he closed his eyes, allowing the shorter female to shake him. "Why did I agree to this again?"

"Because you lost a bet and you promised, plus! You love me~"

In response, the side of his lip twitched, the raven-haired teen lazily opened his eyes and stared. "Fine."

"Yay~"

Without another word, she grabbed the taller boy by the arm and dashed out of the gym.

The rest of the volleyball club members stared, confused.

Atsumu most especially, who saw the whole thing unfold right before his eyes.

"What the fuck..."

A little while later, Atsumu, and a few others, followed after the two until they found themselves in the courtyard stage, where a few members of what seemed to be the dance club, music club, and photography club. With the school festival coming up, everyone was running about.

A tap from Osamu from his shoulder, the younger twin pointed small group sat on the front row, dressed in sweats, staring at the stage expectantly. Soon enough, two familiar figures walked up the stage, cheers sounding off from the group. His own group decided to head up, get front row seats to whatever (L/N) and Suna were up to.

As they approached a slow, steady beat pulsated from the speakers, gradually growing louder and louder, a female voice joining in. On stage, the two teens lazily moved and swayed about, like they were prepping themselves.

Suddenly, the two figures standing on stage moved into motion.

Like, as though on cue, they snapped into action.

First of all, the routine was complicated, to say the least - he plays volleyball, so don't judge him, but it fits well with the music. There were a lot of movements with their arms, legs, and hips, but, just like the music, it was almost lackadaisical in a sense. And just by their motions, it was as though the two were emitting naughtiness, trying to be gloating with every snap, transitioning step to step like they were making a statement.

He didn’t realize that Suna, probably the laziest fuck he’s ever known, could move like that. (Well, he had the best core strength out of them all, but he won’t say that out loud!) For someone who had a face that barely had any other emotion than leering and indifference, seeing him dance to this song was somehow oddly fitting. The lanky fuck actually danced well!

Their hairs would fly with every movement as if to emphasize the intensity of their moves.

With every beat both dancers continued moving in unison, surprising him and the rest of the team at how easy Suna made it look - his expression not changing one bit. He did notice there was a different gleam in his eye, likening to when he was playing. Other than that, his expression doesn't change. Fucker, Atsumu thought.

The song had a rather slow beat to it, a female singer was raspy, mumbling-like, but the way they danced – it was mesmerizing to watch.

(L/N) especially.

Atsumu found himself easily drawn to her figure from the moment she appeared at the gym.

From the way she moved her body, she had way more attitude. Her face as well, it was quite expressive, playfully sticking her tongue out and making faces as the song progressed. But she was having fun, way too much fun. Whenever she lifted her arms, he saw just a slither of her skin and felt his throat dry.

The two complemented each other well on stage, Suna with his indifference and fluid movements synergizing with (L/N)'s playful expressions and graceful steps.

In unison, the two got to their knees, moving excruciatingly slowly to match the slowed beat, hands trailing up to their necks, twirling their heads back - for some reason, Atsumu choked at the sight of her hands over her slender neck - then swirled off to their feet to shuffle, routine becoming even more erratic-like to match the beat.

Atsumu could not look away from (L/N).

She danced as though she means it, her confidence leaking through every move.

He followed every sway of her hips, her arms, the direction her hair flew off to, the excitement burning in her eyes, the slant of her lips, a peak of her (s/c) skin, her tongue sticking out-

"Oi," called his twin, who somehow had a bag of chips in hand. "yer droolin'"

"Shut yer trap." He replied angrily, eyes returning to (L/N) on stage as the music died down.

And then it was back with a boom, the two moving more erratic like before. The crowd cheering for them, even some of the guys with him cheered - Osamu merely ate.

Kicking and twirling, when they opened their legs, Atsumu felt something tightened uncomfortably. DIscreetly, he had to tug his shirt lower as the dance progressed.

Rougher steps blended in, (L/N)'s expression turning - dare he say, sultry as she mouthed 'I'm a bad girl', in time with the song, hips swaying as he lowered her fingers down teasingly, feeling something uncomfortable again and his mouth drying.

The dance ends with both (L/N) and Suna hunched over, as though ready to fall over themselves. The area explodes into applause, he wanted to join in but couldn't because...reasons.

"Whipped," Osamu, with a mouthful of chips, tells his twin. A fleck of chewed chip lands on his cheek, just inches from his mouth.

Thankfully, that was reason enough for the discomfort to go away. "'SUMU, YOU DISGUSTING FUCK!"

An exasperated sigh sounded behind them. "Oi, break it off, you two," Ojiro says, stepping in between them.

On stage, (L/N) was saying a few words to the crowd, while Suna stood in the background, checking his phone. When she was over, she walked over her friend, grinning ear to ear.

“I can’t believe I lost that bet,” Suna muttered, indifferent to the looks he was receiving from people.

Laughing, (L/N) held unto his shoulders. “Come on! At least it was fun!”

“The dancing part, maybe.”

“See?”

Rolling his eyes, the tall middle-blocker ruffled the girl's sweaty (h/c) hair, affectionately, before pushing her away from him.

Realizing that they weren't alone, she looked up and grinned toothily. "Ah, sorry for borrowing Rinrin, but I needed a dance partner!"

"It was no problem, (L/N)," Ojiro says, goodnaturedly. "I didn't know Suna could dance."

"We took dance classes when we were younger!" (L/N) shared. "But he quit after he discovered volleyball. Shame, because he's such a good dancer."

Beside her, her friend continued scrolling through his phone. She bumped her hip with his to catch his attention, only to have him move at the last minute.

"He also helped me choreograph this dance," she further explained, interlacing her fingers together. "so I really wanted to have him in it."

"Wow, SunaRin," Atsumu turns to the middle blocker "and here I thought you were nothing but a lazy fuck."

The tall middle blocker lazily turns his head, narrowing his eyes at him.

"What this shithead meant to say was he didn't know Suna actively partook in activities outside volleyball," Osamu explained, finishing the last of his chips.

"Same thing, shithead."

A giggle.

Atsumu's head turned quickly, finding (L/N) - still sweaty from dancing, yet looking so pretty and fresh, was giggling. At him. Because of him.

"You guys are funny," lifting her hands, she uses her thumb to push a strand of hair away from her face, his brown eyes following along the slope of her jaw, the skin of her face, her gentle-looking hands.

Before she could say another word, the raven-haired boy put a hand over her mouth, pulling her back to him, and began to drag her away. "Come on, I did your deed. You owe me some jelly sticks."

Atsumu watched them leave, eyes sticking to the shorter teen, whose expressions went from annoyed to cheerful in a split second.

"Dude, yer whippe-"

"'SAMU, I SWEAR TO GOD!"

bonus:

#alicemitch09 writes #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu!! fanfiction #miya atsumu #reader insert #miya atsumu x reader #prompt #suna rintarou #miya osamu #inarizaki #ojiro aran #gift fic for a friend #heh

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 13

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Sweet Litigious Karma

AO3 link

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They had to wait for Jagged to coax Fang out of the limo before they could proceed with phase two of the plan. Juleka murmured something to Rose, who dashed into the school and returned with Luka’s guitar.

Juleka took it and drifted to the open limo door, which had Fang hanging halfway out of it.

“I know without your guitar you feel like you’re missing a limb, so I figure you shouldn’t be without it today.” She handed it to him. “Especially after this drama.”

Luka peered out the limo and flashed a little smile. “Thanks, sis. I wanted to work on a song for Adrien, anyway. He should know what his heartsong sounds like.”

Adrien blushed at that, ducking his head.

This wasn’t part of the script, but they’d all decided ad-libbing was a good idea if anything came to mind. He’d told Luka to pretend all the reporters were naked, and apparently that had calmed him enough.

He moved back to the limo door, keeping out of Fang’s path, and took Luka’s hand. “I look forward to hearing it, ma luciole.”

An enraged high-pitched sort of bellow sounded from behind him, and Adrien turned to see Lila stomping toward him, her face a mottled red. She froze when Fang snapped in her direction, clearly bothered by her movements.

“Yeah, Fang here doesn’t like when brats like yourself harass his friends. Adrien and Luka here? They’re friends.” Jagged crossed his arms. “You’re just the liar who claimed to save my nonexistent kitten from a runway.”

Lila fumed, then turned on Marinette, who stood near her parents. “You! You did this!”

Tom protectively moved in front of his daughter as the Italian took a step in her direction, straightening his spine to increase his height.

M. Damocles cleared his throat. “Mlle. Rossi, you are on very thin ice. Stop harassing your classmates.”

“I’ll see you later,” Adrien murmured, letting go of Luka’s hand to move closer to Marinette, just in case she needed defending.

He noticed Juleka doing the same thing—and he wasn’t the only one, if Lila’s narrowing eyes were any indication.

Lila’s posture changed, becoming demure and defensive, as though she was protecting herself from harm. “I’m sorry, M. Damocles. I-I just can’t believe Marinette would go this far to bully me!”

The girl fled past the principal into the school, crying fake tears. M. Damocles blinked, looking confused. Adrien hoped he wasn’t buying into that sham.

“Fang’s better at crocodile tears than she is,” Jagged snorted, shutting the limo door now that Fang was completely out. “What a prima donna.”

The press didn’t hear him and ignored the limo as it pulled away with Luka, instead taking the opportunity to swarm Marinette, calling out questions.

“What led to Jagged Stone employing a 14-year-old girl as his designer?”

“Do you care to comment on your rivalry with Mlle. Rossi?”

“Is it true the text messages to the press were fake and you’re the real bully?”

Adrien frowned at that one, and pulled out his phone, turning it on so he could display the messages. Keeping it off wasn’t necessary since his father likely could see his location on TV.

The questions continued to ring out until…

“You seem awfully close with Mlle. Tsurugi. Are you dating?” That one was from Alec Cataldi.

Marinette blushed brightly at that question, looking more overwhelmed than he had ever seen her.

Jagged shoved his way through the crowd. “Oi! What are you doing prying into the romantic life of an underage teenager? Bloody paparazzi!”

Cataldi immediately backed off, and Penny grabbed Jagged’s arm to keep him from advancing.

That gave Adrien the opportunity to finish opening his text messages, pulling up the ones from Lila. He shoved his phone toward the reporters, scrolling up and down so they could see.

“Not faked,” Adrien announced, his voice icy. “And not ‘leaked,’ either. I made sure they went public intentionally. I do not tolerate threats against my friends. We are finished with questions, as we have other business to attend to.”

When several reporters started to ask more questions anyway, he channeled his father, as much as he hated to do that. “I will remind you that under French law taking pictures and footage of minors without permission is quite illegal, and we’ve tolerated that up to this point.”

Dead silence fell immediately, and the reporters backed off, the implied threat effective.

The space allowed them to move forward into the school, trailed by Fang. The bell rang as they entered, but the courtyard was filled with students and teachers, mostly gaping at them.

To be fair, Mme. Mendeleiev was trying to round up her students, but none of them were paying her any mind.

M. Damocles cleared his throat. “Apparently the entire school is tardy,” he announced loudly.

There was a rush as the students and teachers cleared the courtyard, with the exception of Mme. Bustier’s class, who kept watching since their teacher was beside the principal.

He turned to her. “Caline, go handle your class. I will send M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng along once this… matter is dealt with.”

Adrien wasn’t fond M. Damocles’ dismissive tone, but he figured that’d be destroyed by the lawyer soon enough.

In any case, as Mme. Bustier led the way up the stairs, he took quiet joy in the way his classmates gave Lila a wide berth, like she was contagious. Well, aside from Juleka, who was staying closer than was strictly necessary and smiling menacingly.

They quickly found themselves squeezed a bit tightly into the principal’s office—six adults, two teens, and a crocodile were a bit much for the small room.

Jagged took one chair, and Tom took the other, leaving the rest to stand. The lawyer placed her briefcase on the desk to open it, taking out a stack of paperwork and handing it to the principal.

“I’ll keep this brief, M. Damocles. M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng are concerned with the lack of investigation into the allegations against their daughter, and the lack of investigation into Mlle. Rossi’s claims—from illnesses and disabilities to excuses for absences. It implies not only a degree of favoritism, but additionally calls into question whether this school is following basic procedure.”

“That—”

“I am not finished, sir. Furthermore, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng has faced a multitude of instances of harcèlement moral, bullying, including destruction of her property by the mayor’s daughter—who, I might add, faced no consequences in another implied instance of favoritism. She has now been targeted by a self-admitted serial liar, whose frankly ludicrous tales managed to fool the authorities at this school, injuring her mental health. That file outlines everything she has faced in the past year.”

Adrien could see Marinette’s face redden out of the corner of his eye, and knew the lawyer wasn’t exaggerating—he’d seen and heard enough last night to know that now. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently to let her know he had her back.

The lawyer continued. “While current French Labor Code would see this as a violation, the law has woefully not seen fit to include schools, the workplace of students, in this definition. M. Stone is strongly disgusted by this oversight, and would be happy to see whether a suit on his employee’s behalf regarding these incidents could result in precedence in case law.”

M. Damocles’ eyes had widened, his face pale. Adrien almost felt sorry for him, but it was the inaction of far too many adults that had allowed Lila’s reign of terror to go on this long.

“However, we would prefer to resolve this outside of the courts, if at all possible. Since, unfortunately, orders of protection in France are not granted outside of situations of domestic violence. As neither M. Agreste nor Mlle. Dupain-Cheng are in a romantic relationship with Mlle. Rossi, this means they are unable to pursue one under current French law. So I will be frank: my clients seek, at minimum, an investigation into this matter and the immediate removal of Mlle. Rossi from Mme. Bustier’s classroom, so their education is not further interrupted by her behavior.”

The principal stuttered a few times. “Ah, b-but I have to consider the impact on Mlle. Rossi’s education—”

The lawyer smoothly interrupted. “Her education has already been interrupted by alleged travel outside of the country—which presumably you verified with her parents—whereas M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng have been in consistent attendance.”

“I-I will need to contact her mother, of course—”

“Yes, I suggest you do that. We will, of course, wait outside until you are finished speaking with Mme. Rossi. Might I suggest, if you are unable to reach her by the number provided to the school, you contact the Embassy? My clients have already been quite patient.”

With that, the lawyer closed her suitcase, and stepped over Fang to reach the door. The rest of them followed her out.

Marinette looked a bit light-headed. He led her to a bench and sat with her, Sabine and Tom joining them on either side.

After the door was closed, Adrien murmured. “I thought he was going to wet himself.”

The lawyer flashed a shark-like smile. “That is what I’m paid for.”

That got a nervous giggle from Marinette, who snuggled into Sabine’s side. She looked exhausted.

Adrien took a moment to text Kagami to let her know phase two was in progress. He also told her about the reporter’s question—he had no doubt there’d be rumors flying as a result.

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen runs from the Cloud Recesses

warning for some mentions of violence and minor character deaths. In the end, I went and cut this chapter in two because it was getting out of hand. I blame Meng Yao!

It starts as a pleasant enough day. Lan Xichen is overseeing a class of their youngest juniors, helping them practice their calligraphy. He always enjoys teaching that and seeing the little ones so focused. There’s a few tongues sticking out in concentration, which Lan Qiren would comment on… but Lan Qiren isn’t here, and Lan Xichen is undisturbed. He finds it cute if anything. Lan Wangji too used to do it. Besides, for now it’s more important to have the children focus on their brushwork. They’ll think of their posture later.

Whenever he gets a few seconds without anyone asking for help, Lan Xichen allows himself to think of the letter he needs to write to Nie Huaisang, one that he will send to Lanling rather than Qinghe, since his fiancé will be headed there soon, before coming to stay a while in Gusu. Lan Xichen has negotiated with his uncle to have reduced duties when Nie Huaisang is here. Lan Qiren wasn’t happy about it, but eventually gave in when he realised Lan Xichen would be too distracted to be any good to him anyway. So Lan Xichen has been planning things for the two of them to do, walks in the mountains if the weather allows, more painting lessons if it doesn’t. He’s found melodies from the Qinghe region in the library that he’s hoping Nie Huaisang will be willing to hear. There should also be enough time for at least one trip to Gusu so they can hang out together somewhere different and have a meal Nie Huaisang will enjoy more than the usual fares of the Cloud Recesses.

And then if Nie Huaisang is willing maybe they’ll kiss again. Lan Xichen is trying not to hope too much for that, his fiancé won’t be as bored as he was at that conference in Nightless City, but still maybe, just maybe…

Just as his thoughts are trailing in a direction they really shouldn't take while teaching, the classroom door opens and Lan Qiren comes in, followed by a very puzzled looking disciple.

"Class is dismissed," Lan Qiren barks at the children. "Lan Chengfu will take you to the dorms while waiting for further instructions. If you disobey him or cause trouble, you'll be punished later. Xichen! You're coming with me."

His nephew startles at the urgency in his uncle's voice, but nods and follows him out without questions. Answers still come soon enough, his uncle explaining the situation as they nearly run toward the library.

"Wen Xu has come to the Cloud Recesses and is accusing us of unorthodoxy. He is demanding that we burn our library and the inner clan's residence in penance."

"Can… can he do that?" Lan Xichen gasps. "It's ridiculous, we're not…"

"He also wants you and your brother to come to Qishan for re-education."

"You mean as hostages. So they've realised after all that they need to strike now…"

It's everything Lan Xichen has most feared. The Wen deciding to make the first move at their convenience, when their opponents aren't quite ready, when so many sects are still so willing to bend over to avoid war…

"What are we going to do?" Lan Xichen pants as they enter the library, only to gasp at the scene there.

A dozen disciples are present, urgently trying to shove as many books and scrolls as they can inside qiankun bags. Lan Wangji is among them, seeming a little dazed by what's happening. He shares their uncle's love of books and academia to a much higher degree than Lan Xichen, and his brother cannot imagine what shock it must be for him to find that someone is willing to have all this knowledge destroyed.

"Hurry!" Lan Qiren barks. "Sect Leader Lan won't be able to keep him distracted forever! Wangji, go out and keep watch."

At that order Lan Wangji throws his uncle a pleading look, as if to say there are still too many books to be put away and he simply cannot do anything else.

"Uncle, I'll go out," Lan Xichen offers.

Before he can take one step, Lan Qiren grabs his wrist to keep him in place.

"Stay. You'll be the one to make a run for it, if it comes to that. Wangji, do as I tell you!"

While his brother reluctantly obeys, Lan Xichen feels the air punched out of him.

"Uncle, surely it should be you who…"

Lan Qiren shoves a qiankun bag in his hands and pushes him toward the shelves.

"You're Gusu Lan's heir. If something happens to the sect, it must be you who rebuild it. Your brother and I will stay behind to buy you time to escape. Now get to work. Take everything you can. Quickly!"

"You think he might…"

"Get to work!"

Pinching his lips to keep himself silent, Lan Xichen obeys. He tries at first to to only pick up work directly relating to Gusu Lan's method of cultivation, but that's too slow, it requires too much thinking. He ends up doing the same as the other disciples and just grabbing everything he can. He focuses on that almost mechanical gesture, trying his best not to think about the way his uncle is contemplating their entire sect's slaughter as a real possibility.

They all work in tense silence for a little while until a commotion makes itself heard from outside. As one they all turn toward the door, freezing when a cry is heard.

"Sect Leader!" Lan Wangji shouts, voice filled with anguish.

Without thinking Lan Xichen tries to dash to the door, only to be stopped again by his uncle. This time Lan Xichen tries to pull free because his brother needs him, but Lan Qiren's hold on him remains strong.

"Everyone, bring Xichen your bags and stay put until I tell you otherwise."

The disciples meekly obey. Lan Xichen lets them attach the bags to his belt, enough of them to cover all his waist, his gaze never leaving the door. There are sounds of fighting outside now, which Lan Xichen cannot ignore. His uncle has to pull him toward the back of the library like a capricious child, before pushing him toward a window.

“Go!” Lan Qiren order. “I’ll protect Wangji. Don’t come back until you can be sure the Wens aren’t watching, and when you do, come through the mountains, not the main gate. Keep a low profile, stay away from other sects. I don’t think it’d be wise to go to Qinghe until things have calmed down, the Wens are probably waiting for an excuse to come after them as well.”

“I can’t leave alone!” Lan Xichen begs. “Uncle, at least Wangji…”

“Wangji will do his duty. Do yours, and save what you can of our knowledge. Hurry, or they’ll realise what we are doing!”

Even though there’s no time to lose, Lan Xichen wastes a few more seconds by hugging his uncle before climbing through the window and leaving the library.

Running is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but as soon as he’s sure he won’t attract attention, Lan Xichen runs.

Excessive emotion is forbidden, but he cries as he heads toward the mountains, fearful for his brother, for his uncle, for his sect.

Private fights are forbidden, but nobody told that to the Wens waiting at the border of the barrier that surrounds the Cloud Recesses, who attack Lan Xichen the instant he steps out.

It’s not the first time Lan Xichen is in a fight against members of another sect. He’s had chances to spar with Nie Mingjue quite a few times, as well as with some guest disciples. But it was always that: sparring. The Wen cultivators who are after him now aren’t trying to learn or to show off, they’re trying to capture him, dead or alive. Dead more than alive, Lan Xichen guesses from their aggressive movements and his past encounters with Wen Xu. Lan Xichen fights the way he’s been taught to do, strikes and counter-strikes until there’s an opening for a serious blow that would incapacitate his opponent.

In training, Lan Xichen has never taken such a chance to actually maim a person. When the opening appears here, he hesitates for a second to take it, unwilling to spill blood when it goes against so many of the rules he’s been taught. The Wen cultivator he’s fighting at that moment has no such qualms and thrusts his sword under his ribs.

Lan Xichen doesn’t even think. His sword moves of its own volition and slashes at the man’s throat, spraying red around them.

The next one is horrifyingly easy to kill as well, now that Lan Xichen has done it once. The sharp pain on his side helps. It’s them or him and he cannot die, not when his uncle trusts him to protect their sect’s legacy.

Lan Xichen spends the next few days fleeing from the Wens. He only eats whatever wild fruit he can recognise, having brought no money with him, unwilling anyway to risk the safety of civilians. He barely rests, fearful to be caught unaware. The wound on his side keeps reopening every time the Wens catch up with him and pull him in a fight. After a week of this, Lan Xichen can feel himself getting weaker and weaker. He thinks he’s developing a fever, though it’s hard to say. He might just be exhausted.

He is flying away after yet another scuffle when it finally becomes too much. He simply doesn’t have the strength to control his sword anymore and falls down to the ground. The pain of the impact leaves him gasping for breath, but since he was flying low to avoid detection, he sustains no injury. He is, however, too exhausted to even try to get up, and so he lays there on the grass, waiting to be found and captured. It should have been his uncle taking away the books. Lan Qiren would never have weakened so quickly.

It takes little time for footsteps to approach. Lan Xichen, too tired to turn his head and look at his assailants, closes his eyes and awaits his fate. He feels a shadow fall over him, but no blows come to him.

“Gongzi, are you hurt?” a surprisingly gentle voice asks. “I was on the road and I saw you fall… do you need help?”

Slowly, Lan Xichen opens his eyes again. Instead of Wen cultivators, he finds a young man looming over him with a concerned expression. There’s something a little familiar about his face, though Lan Xichen doubts he’s ever met him.

“Don’t stay here,” Lan Xichen orders in a rasp. “If they find you, they’ll hurt you.”

The young man’s eyebrows rise high in surprise at this answer, but he doesn’t leave. His expression turns calculating instead. He looks Lan Xichen over, raises his head to look around, then turns his eyes back to the young man lying on the grass.

“Gongzi, if you allow me, I will take you to safety,” he offers. “I’m on my way home to Yunping City, my horse is right there on the road… if I help you, can you walk until there? I’ll help you get on its back, but I fear I don’t have the strength to carry you.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Lan Xichen protests.

The young man smiles at his answer. He has a pleasant smile, Lan Xichen finds, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Let me decide what risks I take,” he replies. “And answer my question. If I help, can you walk?”

Closing his eyes again, Lan Xichen quickly checks his body for any serious injury. Aside from being exhausted and the deep wound on his side, everything is fine.

“I should manage. Thank you.”

The young man doesn’t reply, but carefully helps Lan Xichen sit up. His head is swimming at first from the change of position, but before long and with some help from this stranger, Lan Xichen manages to stand up and even walk. There’s a gentle slope toward the road, which is good because the young man really doesn’t have much strength. He’s a little taller than most ordinary people, but compared to Lan Xichen he is still short, and definitely on the slender side. For some reason, Lan Xichen is reminded of Nie Huaisang… but in fairness, it doesn’t take much for him to think of Nie Huaisang these days.

It’s a bit of a struggle for Lan Xichen to get on the horse, but they manage anyway. Perhaps judging that Lan Xichen’s bright white robes might attract too much attention, the young man takes off his own outer robes and throws them over Lan Xichen’s shoulders before take his horse’s reins to get moving.

It is half day ride to Yunping City and before long, the young man must get uncomfortable with the silence because he starts volunteering information about himself to make conversation. Lan Xichen, although struggling to stay awake, listens and catches the general idea of his saviour’s life.

The young man’s name is Meng Yao and while his mother is of very low origins, his father is a cultivator from Lanling Jin (later, when he feels better, Lan Xichen takes a good look at Meng Yao and guesses who, exactly, fathered him). He tried to join that sect himself, but was rejected because of his mother’s low blood and had to settle for an ordinary life. He now works as a bookkeeper in Yunping City for a rich merchant and is just returning from checking on some issues with an associate of his employer. He’s renting a room in the outskirts of town, and while it is not quite worthy of housing a cultivator, Meng Yao promises that at least nobody will think to look for Lan Xichen there.

By the time they reach the room in question, Lan Xichen can barely stand. They make it up the stairs with great difficulty. The last thing Lan Xichen remembers before passing out is being laid down on a thin bed.

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he finds that his silk clothes have been changed to simpler ones, his headband removed, and his wound has been tended to. The qiankun bags and his sword have been left next to the mattress. There’s a note next to his pillow explaining that Meng Yao had to go meet his employer to report on his journey, but he should be back in a few hours. He advises Lan Xichen to rest, and promises he will bring food when he returns.

Grateful for the kindness of this stranger and still too exhausted to do much else, Lan Xichen falls back to sleep.

He wakes up again after some amount of time to the sound of a door opening. On sheer instinct his hand reaches for Shuoyue but as he grasps the handle, Meng Yao comes in, carrying provisions. The young man freezes in fear for a second at the sight of Lan Xichen ready to unsheathe his weapon, but his expression quickly mellows into a pleasant smile.

“I’m glad to see that gongzi is already better,” Meng Yao says, closing the door behind him. “As you see, I brought food. Here, take as much as you need,” he adds, carefully dropping a filled basket on the edge of the bed. “You cannot heal on an empty stomach.”

“You eat as well,” Lan Xichen replies, taking a small bun from the basket but refusing to bite into it until Meng Yao sits next to the bed and does the same.

The food is different from what Lan Xichen is used to, more seasoned as is typical of the area, but he devours it without protest, only making sure that his host gets his fair share as well. Between this, the tea served to him, and the rest that he’s gotten, Lan Xichen already feels better. When he mentions the idea of leaving though, Meng Yao frowns at him.

“Gongzi, I understand that cultivators heal differently but you are unreasonable,” he says, not quite scolding and yet making Lan Xichen feel chastised. “I understand this house is not what you are used to, but please bear with it for a few days until you can move without worsening your wound.”

“It’s not about your room!” Lan Xichen protests, horrified that he might have given that impression. “Meng gongzi, I am only worried about bringing danger to you, and putting a strain on your resources.”

Meng Yao smiles and tilts his head slightly.

“Gongzi, I’m not so poor that I cannot help you. You… you are used to better things I suppose, but I’m not living so uncomfortably as you seem to think, so don’t worry. This isn’t a hassle at all. As for danger… gongzi, with everything that’s happening lately, I can imagine what sort of trouble you’re in, and I’m not worried. The people who are after you would not come to such a place, and they must be too busy checking that all their hostages are being delivered.”

“What hostages?”

Just like yesterday, Meng Yao’s expression gets calculating again, though this time it retains a certain warmth.

“Gongzi, aren’t you running from the indoctrination?” he asks. When Lan Xichen shakes his head, Meng Yao looks him over and frowns slightly. “I see. You must have been on the run for a bit then. The news is everywhere, even us ordinary folks talk of little else. Apparently, the great Qishan Wen sect has decided that other cultivators were badly trained and needed to be shown better, so every sect has to send all their children and all their junior disciples there. Anyone who resists is killed or taken by force, or so it is said.”

Lan Xichen thinks of Lan Wangji, back in the Cloud Recesses. He thinks of Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang in Qinghe.

Maybe he ate too much, too fast, because he suddenly feels like throwing up. If something happened to them…

“It is only a rumour!” Meng Yao quickly adds, his hand rising toward Lan Xichen's shoulder as if to comfort him, then dropping again without making contact. “The juniors of the sect in Yunping City have gone away, yes, but it was all done without violence. From what I heard, only that great sect in Gusu opposed any resistance and had to be punished, but all the other ones have simply complied. Although if gongzi wishes it, I can try to find more details. My employer deals with the local sect sometimes and they wouldn’t find it too odd if I came to visit.”

“Please, don’t do anything that might bring attention to yourself,” Lan Xichen requests, his dizziness increasing at the idea of what punishment might have been inflicted upon his sect. Wen Xu is known to be imaginative for these things.

He hopes Lan Wangji is well. If they hurt him while Lan Xichen ran away like a coward… he should have stayed, he should have fought, there couldn’t have been that many of them. His uncle ordered him to run, he had to, but maybe just this once he should have disobeyed.

“I will still pay attention to what’s being said,” Meng Yao replies. “I understand that gongzi might not be comfortable telling me his name and sect. I’m not asking for it!” he adds with a hand gesture when Lan Xichen opens his mouth, either to protest or apologise. “If it becomes necessary, I trust gongzi to share relevant information. Otherwise, I will not probe.”

“Aren’t you trusting me too much, Meng gongzi?”

“You trust me as well, gongzi, don’t you?” Meng Yao retorts, seemingly amused now. “I told you to rest, and you did even though I could have gone to fetch your enemies. I brought you food, and you ate it, even when I could have poisoned it to make you easier to capture. Gongzi should be more careful of strangers. For all he knows, his enemies have offered a reward for his capture and spread his description already.”

Lan Xichen startles at the news, but Meng Yao continues smiling peacefully.

“You already know who I am,” Lan Xichen states.

Meng Yao laughs.

“A description is such a vague thing,” he protests. “It is true that Qishan Wen is looking for someone but if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on such a person. All they’re speaking about is a young man in white with a headband and a wound. But gongzi, aside from the wound, that’s not you at all.”

“Where did you put my headband?” Lan Xichen asks. It did not matter earlier when he still felt weak, but he’s starting to feel naked without it. Not to mention the vague disgust he feels at the thought someone touched it. Even Nie Huaisang hasn’t dared, although Lan Xichen almost offered it in Nightless City, right before his fiancé’s friends found them.

“Is it really important?” Meng Yao asks. “It is very recognisable.”

“It’s an heirloom,” Lan Xichen explains. “It’s important to my family.”

He expects Meng Yao to scold him again in that gentle manner he has. Instead, the young man nods in understanding and shuffles away from the bed so he can lift a plank from the floor. In the space underneath, Lan Xichen catches glimpses of white as Meng Yao digs out his ribbon. Lan Xichen gratefully takes it back and although he desperately wants to put it back in its proper place, he decides instead to roll his sleeve and tie it around his arm. A compromise. The rules say it must be worn, they never actually say where.

Meng Yao nods approvingly.

“It might be safer that way,” he says. “If gongzi allows, I should have enough space to also hide those qiankun bags until gongzi is fit to leave. I would have hidden them already, but gongzi became very agitated when I touched them while changing him, and I feared it would distress him too much if you did not see them upon waking.”

“Meng gongzi is very considerate,” Lan Xichen replies with a yawn he cannot suppress. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Gongzi is tired, it’s normal,” Meng Yao cuts him with a small laugh. “Go back to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow. I have asked my employer to let me have a few days off to recover from travelling. I will be able to check on your wounds, and to go out for information.”

Although he feels guilty for disrupting the young man’s life so much, Lan Xichen is too tired to protest again. He can only lay down again, and watches as Meng Yao puts away the remains of their meal, then starts hiding away the bags containing Gusu Lan’s knowledge.

“Meng gongzi, before I sleep, I have one question. Why save me?”

Meng Yao shoots him a surprised look, as if it were obvious to him.

“You were this unwell,” he explains, gesturing at Lan Xichen’s body, “and your first instinct was not to beg for help, but to worry about my safety. I figured even if you turned out to be a thief or a murderer, you would not be a bad man.”

Lan Xichen can only smile at that answer as he closes his eyes.

Meng Yao can accuse him of being too trusting, but he’s hardly any better.

The days that follow are odd.

Lan Xichen cannot help but feel guilty that he is in this safe place, with someone he’s already starting to think of as a friend of sorts, while his family’s fate is uncertain. Meng Yao, against his wishes, has found out that Gusu Lan still stands, even though a large part of the Cloud Recesses burned down. He has also found out that Lan Wangji is alive (Lan Xichen cried in relief) and was only taken away as a hostage, like most young men his age all over the cultivation world. But this leaves as many questions as it answers. Nobody knows what is happening to the hostages in Qishan, and Meng Yao cannot find out how many were wounded or died in the Cloud Recesses.

Sensing his ever growing distress, Meng yao distracts him with chatting, or by asking questions about cultivation. It’s obvious that the subject deeply interests him. It’s equally clear that he knows very little about it, and mostly tried to learn through the sort of fake manuals that sadly get sold as the real deal. As thanks for his hospitality, Lan Xichen sets out to teach him a few basic principles so that at least, if his interest remains in the future, Meng Yao knows enough not to be fooled again by crooks. Besides, it gives them something to do as they wait for his wound to heal.

Lan Xichen feels almost disappointed when at last, Meng Yao decides one day that his wound is now healed enough for him to leave. It has been little more than a week, but Lan Xichen already feels deep affection for the other young man, and he believes the feeling is mutual.

“I do not mind if gongzi stays a little longer,” Meng Yao tells him after giving his diagnosis. “Until it is certain that things are calmer out there.”

It’s tempting, immensely so. Time passes differently in this room, in the company of this new friend. But Lan Xichen has responsibilities out there in the world, and Meng Yao cannot stay away from his own work forever. This respite has come to an end.

“You have done so much for me already,”Lan Xichen says with a sad smile. “I cannot put you in more danger. In fact, I’ll try to leave tonight. I need to go…”

He needs to go to Gusu, his first thought is, but that’s not exact. He wants to go to Gusu so he can check on his people. He wants, also, to go to Qinghe and finally figure out if Nie Huaisang was among the hostages. He prays that he wasn’t, but that would be open rebellion and Meng Yao would have heard about it. All he can do, then, is hope that Nie Huaisang is acting smart and is staying out of trouble, wherever he is.

“Even if you leave, it’ll be dangerous,” Meng Yao notes. “Everyone says it will probably come to war. I wouldn’t be surprised if a number of sects start recruiting soon.”

Something in his tone is almost wishful. Considering some of their conversations and the way they have passed time together, Lan Xichen can only smile.

“You are thinking of trying again to join Lanling Jin.”

Meng Yao startles and looks at him like a dog caught trying to steal a piece of meat before smiling apologetically.

“Gongzi must find me an unsavoury character, wanting to take advantage of such a situation to push for a second chance.”

“On the contrary, I hope this might give you the chance to prove your value. Any sect should be lucky to have a man as clever as you in their rank.”

Meng Yao’s cheeks colour at the praise. He turns away, trying to hide a smile. It’s endearing, truly. Lan Xichen can’t help thinking of Nie Huaisang, so embarrassed at the smallest of compliments. This, in turns, gives him an idea.

“Meng gongzi, must it absolutely be Lanling Jin that you join?”

“It would be… preferable. I made a promise to my mother.”

Lan Xichen winces. That detail, and what he knows of Jin Guangshan’s reputation, tells him more about Meng Yao’s family than the young man probably intended to share. While open on other subjects, Meng Yao tries to avoid talking about his mother if possible, refusing to give any details save to say that she was of low birth. Still, Lan Xichen finds himself comforted in his idea; if he is right about Meng Yao’s father, then his friend should have great potential, enough to make up for a late start.

“Lanling Jin does not easily take in outsiders,” he explains as gently as he can. “But other sects are more welcoming. Meng gongzi, I’m sure you know of Qinghe Nie?”

“I do,” Meng Yao confirms. Then, with only a moment of hesitation, he adds. “Why not your sect though?”

“Mine is sadly as restrictive as Lanling Jin, or else I would offer my help and take you along with me,” Lan Xichen sighs. “But I know well the leader of Qinghe Nie and I know if you come with my recommandation, you will be given the chance you deserve. Sect Leader Nie is a man who will never turn away anyone willing to work hard, and he values competence above birth.”

That gets Meng Yao's attention, his eyes burning even if his smile remains mild.

“Gongzi is too generous.”

“Not at all. I simply believe you can rise above your current circumstances… and it is your wish to do so, isn’t it?”

“Gongzi saw right through me,” Meng Yao admit with a small laugh. “I… I am grateful, truly.”

“As am I,” Lan Xichen replies earnestly, taking the young man’s hands. “Meng Yao, even if our paths must separate for now, I really hope we meet again when you are in Qinghe.”

In answer, Meng Yao gives him the brightest, most open smile he’s shown so far. It makes him look a lot younger suddenly, and once more Lan Xichen finds himself of Nie Huaisang.

If Meng Yao goes to Qinghe, these two might meet. In fact, knowing Nie Huaisang, there is no way he won't notice a new disciple looking so different from their usual recruits, and he's too curious to stay away. Hopefully, this will translate into Nie Huaisang stubbornly deciding to claim Meng Yao as a friend, as he did with others.

Lan Xichen has a feeling these two could get along wonderfully, given the chance.

Now that he isn't trying to avoid a band of pursuing Wens, the return journey to the Cloud Recesses is far shorter. Lan Xichen tries to be careful and to check he isn't followed, but he encounters no problems. It is still unnerving to take such precautions just to go home. Lan Xichen hates that he has to come to a secret back entrance, hates that he dares not go inside the barrier, hates that he must send a butterfly message to his uncle to warn him of his presence and then hide until Lan Qiren either comes to meet him or gives him new instructions.

He waits for hours, hidden up among the branches of an old tree, until night falls. Somewhere far in a distance, Lan Xichen thinks he can hear the curfew bell, although that might be only wishful thinking. Still, soon after, his uncle crosses the barrier and Lan Xichen quickly jumps down from his branch to meet him.

Lan Qiren, always severe by nature, seems to have aged a decade in the couple of weeks since his nephew last saw him. There’s a deep frown carved into his face which grows more pronounced when their eyes meet. Lan Xichen tenses, fearing that he will get scolded for being gone this long, for his commoner’s clothes, for not wearing his ribbon. Instead, his uncle looks him over once and nods his approval. When they meet again, Lan Xichen will have to properly thank Meng Yao for all his advice on making himself less noticeable.

“I’m sorry for not coming home sooner,” Lan Xichen apologises in lieu of greetings. “I ran into some trouble and had to stay hidden. Don’t worry though, the books are fine!”

“And you?”

“As well as I can hope to be,” Lan Xichen replies. There’s no need to mention his wound since it’s healed. His uncle might scold him for being careless in a fight. "I've heard the Wens burned the library?"

"I burned it," Lan Qiren corrects.

Lan Xichen stares at his uncle with horror, hoping that he's suddenly developed a sense of humour. Lan Qiren stares right back, something almost challenging in his expression.

"Wangji and your father were trying to delay them," he states. "Wen Xu lost patience and tried to strike Wangji, but your father took the blow for him and fainted. By the time you'd been sent out, Wangji was on the ground as well and Wen Xu gave me an ultimatum : the library or my nephew."

"Uncle, I'm… I'm sorry. It must have been a hard choice."

"It was not hard," Lan Qiren assures him, challenging again, as if he’s had to defend his decision more than once already, and will not hesitate to do it once more.

Again, Lan Xichen stares. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and he wants to hug his uncle, though he dares not. Their uncle is not an affectionate man, but here and there Lan Xichen gets reminded that this is the man who raised his brother and him and cared for them as best as he could, the other parent in their life, the only parent left after their mother’s death.

"How is Wangji?" he quickly asks, trying to hide his emotion.

"He only sustained a minor injury, nothing to worry about."

"And yourself?"

Lan Qiren waves his hand to signify that is unimportant, though his face turns more severe.

"We are trying to keep this secret for the time being, but news will soon filter out. Xichen, your father died a few days after the attack."

"Oh."

Lan Xichen's first thought is an awful one: he's dead, so what? He was never there anyway.

It is unfilial. So is the fact that Lan Xichen never really bothered to worry about his father. And he knows he should feel sad, or perhaps angry and vengeful, but truly the news just leaves him cold. Lan Xichen hasn't seen his father since the death of Nie Mingjue’s father, and even then they barely talked. In a way, Qingheng-Jun died at the same time as his wife, and was mourned less.

"Are you going to succeed him?" Lan Xichen asks.

"Why would I when he has a son who is nearly of age?" Lan Qiren retorts, digging into his sleeve until he finds a jade token which he hands to his nephew.

Lan Xichen almost doesn't take it, recognising it as the token of sect leaders, passed down from one generation to the next since the barrier around the Cloud Recesses was first erected. It is beautiful in spite of its age, almost as white as snow and delicately carved in a way ordinary tokens are not. It is a sign of leadership in the Cloud Recesses and out of it. Although it has not been seen in years, Lan Xichen knows it will be recognised immediately by other sect leaders.

"Uncle, I'm not ready," he whispers.

Not for this burden he only just started really training for. Not for this war that came too soon.

"Nobody is ever ready for these things," Lan Qiren replies. "But you're not going to be alone. I've been there as well, I'm not going to abandon you."

Not like Qingheng-Jun did to all of them. Lan Qiren has always put most of the blame for their situation on Madam Lan, but his brother's faults were too great to not let him have his share of resentment.

Lan Xichen is terrified of this new responsibility, but he will not be his father. If his sect needs him, he will be there.

"What should I do? If I return openly…"

"It would be unwise. Let the Wens think we are broken and destabilised a little longer. I don't think Wen Ruohan ever realised how little your father's opinion mattered, so he won’t see that nothing has really changed for us. He's a powerful man in a leading position, and he underestimates the strength of those lesser than him. We'll use that."

Having said that, Lan Qiren shares his plan.

What the Four Great Sect will choose is important, he has determined, but much like Wen Ruohan they tend to forget the power of those under them. The myriad of smaller sects that exist around them have their own strengths. Some are already in alliances with the Great Sects, but most are fiercely independent and might remain neutral in the coming war, even though the Wens have shown them little mercy in the past. But if someone were to go to them personally and ask for their help, they might be more than willing to join the fight.

"What if I can't convince them?" Lan Xichen worries.

"We are one of the oldest sects in the country, asking for their assistance after their children have been taken from them," Lan Qiren retorts. "You have a good reputation among your elders, Xichen. Show them respect, listen to their demands, and I know they will listen to yours. I know you can do this. You've never disappointed me before.”

It is another weight falling on Lan Xichen's shoulder, another responsibility he's not quite sure he can take on. Still, he'll try his best.

He must be worthy of his uncle's trust.

Flying tirelessly, Lan Xichen visits sect after sect, starting with those that have a good relationship with Gusu Lan so he can get used to this mission among people who bear him no ill will and are already likely to let themselves be won over. Each time, he starts bluntly by explaining that although none of them want it, war is coming. If the indoctrination camp is not enough to start it, then it is still only a question of time before Qishan Wen goes too far.

It comes as a surprise to Lan Xichen that most of those small sects are more than willing to promise they will join whatever alliance the Great Sects will build. But of course, if for a sect like Gusu Lan it is concerning to see twenty disciples be taken away, for some of those smaller places, that means the entirety of their junior disciples. Some even had to send girls or grown adults to have the right number of hostages to offer.

Besides, it is hardly the first time that Qishan Wen gave them offence. If things have been rough for the Great Sects in recent years, they have been far worse for the smaller ones. Lan Xichen is told about Night Hunts interrupted, preys stolen, territories taken by force, marriages obtained through threat, and worse things still. Qishan Wen, once, offered itself as the greatest authority in the cultivation world and promised to help settle disputes between lesser sects, but in recent times it has started using that vocation to bully others into paying heavy bribes to have their rights respected, or heavy fines if they cannot defend themselves.

And that’s without getting into those times when cultivators have been simply murdered for standing up to high ranking members of Qishan Wen.

When he gets to Baling Ouyang, Lan Xichen hears one such story from its sect leader. His eldest son happened to be Night Hunting with a friend a few years ago when he stumbled upon a party led by Wen Xu that was after the same prey. Sect Leader Ouyang never found out the exact details of it, but both boys died, supposedly after inviting Wen Xu to join their Night Hunt but tragically underestimating the power of the creature they were hunting. Wen Xu, of course, made sure to avenge them and killed the beast himself.

“And now my second son is in their hands,” Sect Leader Ouyang sighed. “I have little hope of seeing him alive again. The Wens are looking for any excuse to slaughter the rest of us.”

“We have to hope they are wiser than that,” Lan Xichen replies, thinking of his brother, of his fiancé. To lose either of them could break him. It would break him, if he could be afforded that luxury, but he is not his father, he will not let grief swallow him. “But if it comes to war…”

“Gusu Lan can count on Baling Ouyang. I will not miss a chance to avenge my son.”

Lan Xichen thanks the other sect leader for this promise, bowing before him a little more deeply than he should when they are, technically, equals. But he feels for this man who lost so much and yet is still ready to take such risks, and it never hurts to show proper respect to an elder.

Lan Xichen is about to take his leave, hoping to maybe reach another sect before the day is over, when the door barges open, letting in a small flow of people. Worried about being seen and recognised even in disguise, Lan Xichen quickly hides behind the sect leader’s throne and turns around, wondering how to leave while the newcomers all start shouting.

"Sect Leader, we're back, we escaped!"

"Sect Leader, they starved us and took our swords!"

"There was a giant turtle with a snake head, it attacked us but the Jiangs helped us get out!”

"Where is A-Hui?" Secter leader Ouyang asks anxiously.

"He's in Lanling with all the wounded," someone answers. "The young masters from Lanling and Qinghe made all the wounded swap clothes with people from allied clans of Lanling Jin to make sure they'd be taken to safety quicker. And then…"

"Nie Huaisang was there?" Lan Xichen gasps, turning around to look at the returning boys. "Was he well?"

The Ouyang disciples are so excited that they don't even care about being addressed so casually by what, to them, must look like nothing more than a visiting merchant.

"Last we saw him, he was heading north with everyone who couldn't get to their sect alone. He's the one who thought to trick the Jins into taking the wounded, and he said his brother would protect them from the Wens. We thought to follow him as well, but we realised we weren't so far from home so we'd be fine."

Lan Xichen grins at the news, relieved that his fiancé is well. His heart swells with pride to hear Nie Huaisang talked about in such a complimentary way. It is odd to think of him leading anyone… and yet not so surprising at the same time. Someone who can get Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian to somewhat get along with Jin Zixuan can make people do anything.

"What about Lan Wangji?" he asks. "Did he go North to Qinghe as well?"

At this question, the boys' enthusiasm suddenly falls.

"There was this monster…"

"Wei Wuxian was staying behind to distract it while we escaped…"

"It was so huge, I think Lan Wangji tried to help and…"

"The passage became blocked, they stayed trapped inside."

Lan Xichen has to put one hand on Sect Leader Ouyang’s throne to support himself.

“Where did this happen?” he asks.

“It’s fine, the Jiangs are going to rescue them!”

“Tell me where this happened,” Lan Xichen insists, barely restraining himself from shouting. His brother, trapped with a monster…

“It was on Dusk Creek Mountain,” one Ouyang disciple quickly explains. “A cave hidden near a banyan tree, but the Wens blocked that exit as well. Sir, do you know Lan Wangji?”

Sensing his hesitation, sect leader Ouyang intervenes.

“This man is from the Gusu area but came here to ask for my opinion on a certain matter,” he tells his disciples. “The matter in question is of a delicate nature. Forget you saw him. Go get your injuries checked if you have any, and I’ll tell the cook to make you something quickly. Out now!”

The boys obey without delay, chatting excitedly about the things they want to eat. Lan Xichen watches them go, feeling numb now that he knows their freedom came at the cost of his brother’s. At least he’s not alone in there, at least he’s with Wei Wuxian who, whatever faults he has, is a brilliant cultivator. If anyone can survive such a situation it is the two of them, and yet…

Lan Xichen wants to break down and cry.

Instead he once more thanks sect leader Ouyang for his promised support, reminds him that his visit and the fate of his father must remain secret, and leaves for the next sect. Whatever happens to Lan Wangji, war is still coming, they still need allies. Lan Xichen cannot be his father, cannot let his emotions stop him from doing what’s needed. He does, however, send an urgent message to his uncle to tell him what he’s learned, every detail of it so that Lan Qiren can organise a rescue mission in case the Jiangs don’t.

The answer finds him a few days later: Lan Wangji was rescued by Jiang Fengmian and has already returned home. In his relief, Lan Xichen allows himself the tears he dared not spill earlier. His brother is safe, he is well, he is home.

Lan Xichen breathes again.

Half a month later, in the middle of a market, Lan Xichen starts hearing rumours. He doesn’t pay attention at first, rumours are rarely worth listening to. But as he pays for his meal at a stall, the next client leans toward the seller with a worried expression that catches his eyes.

“Old man, your daughter married a man from Yunmeng, right?” the client asks, which gets him a nod. “Have you heard what happened there?”

“About the Wens? I don’t know if I believe that.”

“You should. I was there the day it happened. I saw some of it. It’s worse than people say. They burned the bodies in front of the Lotus Piers, saw it myself! When I passed by they’d just found a kid who’d managed to hide, stabbed him and threw him right into the fire with the dead!”

Lan Xichen almost drops his meal.

“Was Yunmeng Jiang really attacked then?” he gasps.

“More than attacked, it was slaughtered,” the man retorts. “Not a single survivor. They made people from the town come look as they burned the sect leader’s body and his wife. There’s no more Yunmeng Jiang. And from what I’ve heard, the Wens are now going to take over all that cultivation business. They want to establish offices in every city, and anyone who needs a cultivator’s help will have to go through them rather than other sects. That’s how the fight with Yunmeng Jiang started, I’ve heard. Wen Chao wanted to use the Lotus Piers as his office in Yunmeng, and you can imagine how much the Jiangs liked that. Well, maybe they should have swallowed their pride…”

The man goes on to describe what was happening to the civilians of Yunmeng, but Lan Xichen doesn't linger to listen. Putting down his untouched meal, he quickly leaves behind first the stall and then the market. As soon as he’s out of that small town he jumps on his sword and heads back for Gusu.

Lan Xichen has spent the last few weeks telling people that Qishan Wen is about to go too far, but even he would never have imagined something of that magnitude. War cannot be avoided anymore, and only time will tell if they prepared enough for it.

#xisang #worst engagement au #this is almost 8K so yeah had to cut it lol #jau writes #a lot of bad stuff in there #but hey it's the Sunshot Campaign so yeah...

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unrestedjade · 4 years

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fic writing meme: 1, 12, 17, 18, 21

Oh dang, that’s a lot! Think I’ll put this behind a cut to spare everyone’s dash.

1. The first fandom I wrote and posted for was Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. But! Somewhere in a landfill is a notebook with a very overwrought Animorphs fic about Ax falling in love with my very cool, original-character-donut-steel alien bat-centaur who can tell the future. Every day I thank the universe for not letting my family have internet access until I was 14. Actually, maybe the universe should have held out longer, but you can peep the cringe for yourself over here: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/173909/Fortuna

Yes, that is my old ff.net profile. My only regret is that I didn’t get a chance to back up my ask fics before the site suddenly decided to make a rule banning them and deleted them all. (Me, still salty over that 15 years later? Why, yes actually.)

12. A trope I haven’t tried yet but really want to? It’s hard to narrow it down; there’s a lot of “cliche” fanfic tropes I never let myself write that I want to indulge in this year. I’m thinking about finding one of those bingo cards to use or something. But since I grew up sneaking my mom’s romance novels, I think an arranged marriage would be fun to try if I have to pick just one.

17. The fic I’m most proud of should come as no surprise, lol. I still can’t believe I finished something as long and plotty as finaglc. Would love to manage it again someday. :’)

18. Line/scene dvd commentary: okay okay okay! So there’s this more-or-less abandoned DaphGan Legend of Zelda fic I was writing back in the day, that was just a loose serious of vignettes in chronological order. I had ideas for like 20 chapters and fizzled out because it turns out only about three people on the whole earth give a shit about DaphGan and I can’t write in a complete void of feedback. Anyway, I researched medieval boar hunting techniques because I desperately wanted an action scene culminating in a ~bad omen~ and here it is, so scroll by if you just want to see the last question in the batch:

Within minutes, they were deep enough that the forest canopy closed above them, far above Ganondorf’s head. In the cool and the dim, and with the rustling of leaves in the breeze overhead sounding almost like waves, Ganondorf felt as though he were at the bottom of a great, ancient lake. Mist lay in a thick blanket on the ground as high as the smaller horses’ barrels, and a carpet of dead leaves and needles deadened the sounds of their movement. The hunters had fallen silent. About that, he had no complaints.

(I recall being inordinately fond of the underwater imagery, because I’d been struggling for how to conceptualize a thick forest for a person who’s spent most of his life in the open desert.)

Save for ferns and scattered herbs, there was little in the way of troublesome plants or low branches beyond the border of the forest, and Ganondorf realized that King Daphnes’ suggestion the day before had, in truth, been polite censure of his clothing rather than any practical concern. He frowned, and put the thought aside. It did not matter.

(I was not at all subtle about the Hylians picking at the Gerudo envoy’s appearances, which I think I could handle a little better now, but alas...)

He thought instead on the many sounds surrounding them, his ears straining to hear every one. There was birdsong, in patterns and notes he had never heard. Small creatures rustled in the trees. Water gurgled somewhere out of view. The woods were full of life in every direction, and Ganondorf quietly marvelled at its richness.

All of this, for the sport of one family?

(This piece of writing is old enough that I was still using the now-defunct “two spaces after a period” rule, wow. Also, hello there, years-old misspelling. :/)

They kept to a walking pace for an hour or two, hushed but alert. The dogs picked up a scent, the party wheeling around to follow after them. Ganondorf rode alongside King Daphnes. The man’s eyes were alight as he looked down the deer trail ahead of the dogs; a small smile of anticipation grew on his face. "They have something, eh?” he said, in a whisper. “What did I tell you!”

The lead dog threw its head back, baying. It launched itself forward and the rest of the pack followed suit, tails held high like flags.

An enormous boar, all sinewy muscle and bristled hide, burst from a nearby thicket and was driven ahead of them.

“Aha!" The king spurred his horse to a gallop, the rest of the party just behind. Ganondorf quickly found himself bringing up the rear.

The stallion seemed to find this as unacceptable as he did, for without his urging it picked up speed, long strides eating up the ground until the pair were level with the king once more.

(This bit started with the rest of the hunting party giving G-dawg mad shit for insisting on riding his stallion instead of a more appropriate horse, so I had to vindicate him, of course.)

Ganondorf’s eyes were now fixed on the boar. He crouched low over the stallion’s neck, free hand fisted in the tangles of its mane. They pulled ahead to run with the dogs, until even the dogs were falling behind them.

"Stay with it!" The king’s bellow carried over the thunder of the stallion’s hooves. "Keep running it!”

They ran. The boar was fast and nimble, leading a chase through dense copses and over fast-flowing streams. The world fell away until all that remained was the path they weaved through the trees, the rolling strength of the horse beneath him, the forest rushing by in a blur of green and loamy brown, and the boar.

Ganondorf laughed like a child, his heart light for first time since he’d come to this impossibly green land.

The chase ended when the boar made to leap over a fallen log and could not clear it, tumbling end over end. The beast scrambled to its hooves, brandishing its long tusks. It had reached the point of exhaustion, steam rising from its hide, muscles quivering with exertion. It could run no longer.

Ganondorf held it at bay, keeping the point of his spear trained on it. He did not wish to incite it to charge and risk his horse. He simply looked at it, watching the boar watch him with wide, red eyes. Foam gathered at its mouth, and he wondered whether it would die where it stood, if its heart had burst in its chest.

The baying of the dogs was not far off. The hunters were closing in.

(Still a little puffed up over the juxtaposition of hunting being legitimately thrilling but cruel. Catch my bro getting swept up in the excitement.)

“Excellent work!" Daphnes was at the head of the party, as he had been to start. "Oh, well done, man!”

As the dogs circled, barking and snapping, the boar stood its ground, head lowered. It made a few feints at the dogs foolish enough to attack, but as the hunters closed in it had less and less room to manoeuvre. Ganondorf could see it rallying for a final effort, weariness flowing into terror and rage.

It roared, lunging, scattering the dogs. Blood streaked its tusks. A horse reared when its leg was cut by sharp hooves. For a moment, it looked to Ganondorf as though it might break away again and escape.

In one practiced motion, Daphnes leapt from his horse and sunk his spear deep into the boar’s side.

Ganondorf’s racing heart froze. Pain keener than any he had ever felt lanced through him, choking him on a silent cry. He clutched at his chest, groping for the spear-head that wasn’t there. His own spear fell from numb fingers to the forest floor. Terror and agony, all-encompassing, swept over him in a crushing wave.

None of the other hunters noticed his distress. All eyes were locked on their king’s struggle with the beast. The boar screamed, running against the spear as if it would happily run the length of it to reach Daphnes with its final breath. The cross-tree of the spear and the strength of the man wielding it kept the boar’s tusks far from its target, however, and for every drop of blood that spilled from its side a portion of its strength bled away with it.

After what felt far too long, the boar collapsed. It’s screams had faded to rattling breaths, and when Daphnes stepped forward, knife drawn, it did not resist.

It was on Ganondorf that its red eyes rested when its throat was cut, in some mute accusation or seeking solace, he could not say. The pain in his chest receded when the final gout of blood ran out onto the dark earth. By the time Daphnes stood from his task, wiping his hands and blade clean on a rag, Ganondorf might have believed that the pain had been a trick of his imagination.

(This thing with the dead boar was meant to keep coming up in small ways throughout the rest of the vignettes as a harbinger of G-dawg’s ultimate failure and doom along with being an illustration of how he twists and suppresses himself for the sake of pleasing Daphnes, but of course it’ll probably never happen now since I’m five years out. I really did like this idea, though, and this scene was super fun to write. Except for now I’ve noticed another old typo. T_T)

21. The fic that got away? Lots; I actually have a horrible track record for finishing long fics. The one I’m most bummed out by, that I still think of from time to time, was actually a fill for the old Transformers Anonymous Kink Meme on LJ. It was Animated-verse pre-war Ratchet/Ultra Magnus with a detour into Ratchet/Megatron. I was about two thirds of the way done when something happened in the community that I can’t recall anymore derailed me, and I never ended up finishing it. Sometimes I think about scraping it off the meme to at least archive what I had done on Ao3 or something, but I probably won’t lol. It would take forever to track it down since this was back in like, 2012.

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rogers-metaphor · 5 years

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Lessons in Falling in Love: Chapter 12

Permanent warning/disclaimer: this will be a story that contains smut, will have cursing, and other themes like these. So, if you’re under the age of 18, please skip this story. Also, everything in this story is completely fictional and not based on real life!!!!!!!! It’s for dramatic and entertainment purposes only.

A/N: I rushed to get this chapter out, so there might be some errors!!! let me know what you think ! spoiler alert! there is some smut this chapter. this is one of my favorites!

previous chapters: One, Two, Three , Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, eleven

my masterlist

By the time Ben’s party rolled around the following week, Selene was starting to feel just the tiniest bit better.

Though, at work, anytime the door would chime her head would snap up, hopeful inside that it would be Joe. Any text she received she’d hope to see his name. She missed his kisses in the morning, and his arms around her in bed every night. Her chest still aches when any memory of him would flood her brain.

But she was fine.

She had Nova to worry about, she was in a blissful mood ever since her engagement. Selene didn’t want to bring the mood down. She tried her best to stay cheerful when they went out to eat or went shopping together. Even if any man with dark hair reminded her of Joe. Even when she was with Gwil and Nova being lovey-dovey in front of her. She still was happy for her best friend, hopeful that her and Gwil would be happy together forever.

Then, there was Ben. He texted Selene for hours on end. From simple things, like asking how her day was. Asking how she was doing. To funny pictures or videos he found. She couldn’t deny that she liked the attention from him. Especially since she lost it from Joe.

And there he was again, intruding on her mind.

The night of the party, Selene got ready carefully applying her makeup to perfection. Picking out an outfit that she felt good in. She needed the confidence boost. She needed to have a good time and get drunk and be out with her best friends. She needed to forget about Joe.

She felt her stomach fluttering, as they got to Ben’s place. It was a nice little house, overflowing with music from inside. She was nervous to see him. She hadn’t seen him all week, but they had talked all week, and that had to have meant he still wanted her there. Her mind began overthinking, even as she followed behind Gwil and Nova.

There were a good amount of people, not overcrowded but a clear mix. Gwil greeted some people he must have known from work. They weave through people already submerged in conversation, eating pizza, and other food. Then they found Ben. He was talking to two ladies, both of them were beautiful and laughing at him. Immediately Selene felt her stomach turn. She was jealous.

“Hey!” Ben greeted them his eyes lighting up as he hugged Gwil, Nova, and lastly Selene. “Food and drinks are in the kitchen. Make yourselves comfortable!” he said, cheerful as ever. Then he turned back to the ladies and jumped into the conversation. Selene felt the same feeling in her stomach, as she followed Nova to the kitchen.

Nova and Selene usually stuck together at parties, and people-watched. Eventually created scenarios of what would happen between everyone.They had a good laugh doing it, while Gwil was more social. Eventually Ben was back in sight, this time talking to someone else. Selene scoffed.

“Invites me here to not talk to me all night.” She mumbles to Nova.

“He’s just making his rounds. He lit up when he saw you were here.” she nudges her.

“When he saw Gwil was here.” she laughs, and Nova groans.

“He’s glanced around the room the entire time he was talking to those girls, and… oh… he’s doing it again.” Nova sighs. “He’s uninterested.”

“Please. These girls are throwing themselves at him. He’ll probably be in bed with one of them by the end of the night.”

“Not very likely. He’s not the type.” Nova shrugs. “At least i don’t think so.”

Selene could only hope she was right. She wasn’t ready to start dating again. She didn’t know if she even really liked Ben or was just attracted to him. Or if she was just rebounding off Joe to Ben. She needed time. She finished off her drink.

It’s about 5 drinks later when Ben makes his way over to Selene. Her body is already heated up because of the alcohol but Ben coming to sit by her doesn’t help. Nova is drunk and in a serious conversation with Gwil, which Selene is just witnessing.

“Hello.” Ben says, his voice low as always, he looks between Selene and her two roommates. “What are they on about?” he asks.

“No idea.” Selene admits, avoiding looking at Ben, but facing away from the two. “Are you having fun?” she asks, and he chuckles and nods.

“Are you?”

“I’m pretty drunk.” she admits, “And it’s hot as hell in here.” she sighs.

“C’mon.” he nods toward another direction and stands up. Selene knows she can’t do it alone and is grateful when he holds his hand out. He snickers as she stumbles a bit trying to find her legs.

He doesn’t let go of her hand as they weave through groups of people, and through a back door. The cold January air hits her like a sheet and she shivers immediately. She folds her arms around herself and sighs.

“All those girls.” Selene says, before she could stop herself. She watches Ben’s face for any kind of expression. He only smirks slightly. “Are you seeing any of them?” she asks, and he lets out a short laugh.

“Nope.” he shrugs.

“Not even the really pretty one that’s taller than you?” he chuckles again, shaking his head.

“Why do I have to be seeing anyone?” he asks. She scoffs.

“Have you seen yourself?” the alcohol is talking for her at this point, there’s no help in the world for her, now. She feels her cheeks heat, embarrassed. He smiles, pursing his lips. “You’re a nice person too.” she adds, sheepishly, looking down at the space between them. She always forward, and Ben reaches out to steady her again.

“Not interested in anyone inside.” he shrugs.

Selene feels her heart catch fire. He wasn’t interested in her. She felt a bit embarrassed thinking he would ever have a think for her. She nods, quietly sighing and shivering again. The weather starting to make her body cold. Her eyes find his, and she swears he’s going to kiss her. Even after telling her he’s not interested. Then everything around him turns sideways. She feels herself leaning again and tries to catch herself, but it’s no use. Ben’s arms catch her, once again.

“Sorry.” she mumbled into his chest, “I think I need to lay down.” she groans. The alcohol in her system seemed to be catching up to her fast.

“You can lay down in my room.” he offers and she can’t deny a place to lay down.

Ben helps her inside, and guides her to his room. It smells like him, and it’s clean. He helps her lay down and immediately she groans. It’s comfortable and big, and she can feel the room spinning even with her eyes closed. She reaches her hand out, and grabs his hand.

“Don’t worry.” she says, “I’m not going to throw up. I never throw up when I’m drunk.” this is the last thing she says to him. Then she falls asleep.

The next time she wakes up, it’s still dark. She can hear shuffling around in another place in the house. Her head is pounding and she needs to use the bathroom, but doesn’t know where it is. Ben isn’t beside her, but she knows it’s Ben’s room. She remembers everything, and tries to stand up. The alcohol is still in her system, but she can keep herself more steady than before. She goes toward the shuffling, and finds Ben. He’s cleaning up.

“You alright? Did you get sick?” he asks, he looks concerned. She shakes her head, looking around. No one else seemed to be there, and he filled a garbage can with beer cans and empty plastic cups. She found the time on his microwave. Nearing 4 a.m.

“Bathroom?” she mumbles. He walks her toward the hallway, and points to the door.

She finds him again, taking out some trash.

“Do you need help?” she asks, groggy. He shakes his head.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, “Water? I can put on the television in my room.” she shrugs. She knew at this point she was staying there.

“I can sleep on your couch, so you can go to bed.” she offers and he scoffs but laughs.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can sleep in my bed.” she feels her heart racing at his words. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” she groans. “It’s your house.”

“And you’re sleeping in my bed.” he says, arguing back.

“I mean… we could share… we’re friends…” she finds herself saying. He chuckles.

“Are you comfortable with that?” he asks. She nods rapid, to visibly eager, she feels her cheeks warm. “As long as you’re okay with it.” he says. She nods again.

She watches him finish up his cleaning, locking the doors, turning off the lights. Then she follows him to his room. She climbs back onto his bed, as if she was comfortable doing it. She watches as he takes off his shirt, her eyes unable to look away as his back muscles flex with every movement. She feels like her mouth is watering and she tries to look away as he pulls another fresh shirt over his head.

He grabs some pajama pants and turns toward her. “Are you checking me out?” he asks, mock offense in his tone. He chuckles, as she gets flustered. Turning away from him into his pillow. When he gets back he’s all changed and closes his door. She already feels panicked and jumps up.

“Gotta go again.” she says quickly dashing through his door. She quickly tries to process what could possibly happen tonight. She finds some mouthwash and uses it in her mouth before staring at herself in the mirror. She still had makeup on and it didn’t look bad, but it could if she didn’t wipe it off. She quickly ran back into Ben’s room. He was laying back in bed, his arms behind his head. She panicked. “Makeup wipes.” she explains quickly grabbing them out of her bag, and heading back to the bathroom.

When she finally gets back to his room he’s in the same position. Scrolling on his phone as she makes her way timidly toward his bed. He offers her a smile, getting up as she lays down. “I’ll get the light.” he explains, and she nods getting back under his blankets. Then the light goes off, her heart still beating rapidly in her chest as she can hear him getting closer to the bed. Then she can feel him climb in, his body heat radiating as he joins her under the blanket.

The silence in the room is deafening, and she feels as if her heartbeat can be heard or even felt by ben. She’s self conscious and aware of her entire body, she finds herself shifting nervously.

“Did you have a good party?” she finds herself asking.

“I did. I’m glad you could make it. Even if you did sleep through most of it.” She giggles, a little embarrassed.

“You seemed pretty preoccupied all night.” she comments.

“I wanted to hangout with you.” he says.

Silence. She takes in his words.

“We’re hanging out right now.” she says, her words coming out almost in a whisper. She’s happy it’s dark, and he can’t see her flustered again. She can feel him shifting, and turning toward her. She copies this moment.

“Right.” he laughs. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“‘M alright.” she mumbled, “Best i’ve been all week.”

“Good.” he says. “Do you miss him?” he asks. She hesitates.

“God, Ben do you enjoy watching me cry?” she asks, though she feels far from it.

“I don’t like to see you cry.” he admits, “Would rather hear you laugh.” She blushes, though he can’t see.

“I hate my laugh. Especially when it’s uncontrollable.”

“I remember the night of the Halloween party. I could hear you laughing all night.”

“Ben.” she giggles, embarrassed.

“No, seriously. It’s so pure. Contagious even.” At this point she wishes she could see his face. His pretty green eyes. She wants to reach out and touch him, but refrains from doing so.

“Shut up.” she continues to giggle. “Do you say this to every girl?”

“You’re ridiculous.” he sighs.

“Listen. When guys are nice to me… I’m suspicious.” she groans.

“Suspicious?” he asks.

“Yeah… like… You know. I’m not used to it…” she trails off.

“Well… get used to it.” he says, just above a whisper. She could feel him closer, his arms are hesitant but wrap around her. She moves into him, letting him know she is okay with it. Her heart rate starts to sky rocket, mostly of anticipation. His strong hold on her only makes her curl into him more. His arms feel good around her and she can feel his breath on her forehead.

Selene can feel the tension between them. She can feel his fingers moving up her back, and her body craving more. She can feel and hear his own heart beating rapidly. She yearns to feel something. Anything.

“I want to take you on a date.” His lips are lingering very close to hers, she can feel them moving. Her heart skips and she swallows.

“Ask me again in a month.” she says trying to catch her breath.

“A month!?” he scoffs. As annoyed as he sounds he doesn’t move away from her. His arms stay locked around her body, his fingers still making small circles. Her chest against his.

“Mmhm.” she hums, “You deserve my undivided attention, and I don’t think I can give you that right now.”

“But in a month…” he says.

“It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends and hang out… just no dates. No dating. Nothing serious…. just yet.” He’s quiet, and pondering her proposal.

“Okay.” he hums. She can’t take it anymore, she swears he’s doing it on purpose. His fingertips feel nice against her back.

“Now if you’re trying to kiss me, kiss me...” she sighs. He chuckles.

“Any more rules, princess?” he muses. She groans. He laughs, but she can feel one of his hands inch up, to her face in the darkness. She feels nervous again. She hadn’t kissed another man since she met Joe, six months prior. Before that, it was probably another couple of months.

She inhaled and exhaled quickly, as his hand cupped the side of her face. Her tongue running over her lips. His palm against her cheek feels foreign. It’s stronger but more gentle, as his thumb sweeps across her bottom lip, her lips parted slightly at the touch. Her eyes flutter shut as his nose lightly grazes hers. His lips are soft as they slowly move against hers, and he pauses as their lips connect. He seems to be taking in the moment. A few seconds pass before his lips move with hers again. It was like he didn’t want to get it wrong.

Selene’s heart isn’t slowing. She moves into him further, as if she wasn’t close enough. His hand moving into her hair to grip it firmly, and yet he’s still gentle. She felt like she’d never been kissed like this before, and she melts into his arms humming into his mouth. Getting lost in the feeling. The feeling of an unfamiliar home. It felt like she belonged there but it was new. She throws a leg over his waist, needing to feel more.

His mouth tastes of peppermint and she can still smell the scent of his cologne as they continue to kiss, slowly. His tongue dipping into her mouth, is like a small win. He did want her. Even if it's just for now. He deepens the kiss with a low moan as he moves against her, his body pressing onto her as he gets her on her back. Her hands move up his neck, and into his hair as he carefully cradles her, before a hand moves down her side, over the curve of her hips. Then he stops, abruptly.

“I-I’m sorry this isn’t why I wanted to sleep next to you, I swear I-“ he is out of breath and panicked, her hands reach up to his face and she sighs.

“I know.” she says softly. “If you don’t want me, I can-“ she starts but he shakes his head, his lips found hers again. Soft and slow again.

“Only if you want to… Only if you’re okay with it.” he says quietly. “I just don’t want you to think, this is all I want…”

She hesitates but she wants to. She wants him. To feel good. For him to make her feel good. “I want you, Ben.” she says quietly, “If you want me.”

She needs to feel anything other than the horrible way she’s felt for two weeks. She can feel his hands moving up her thighs. It’s slow and she brings him back in for another kiss. He takes his time, before removing his shirt and helping her out of the dress she’s wearing. Her hands wandering over his toned arms, down his chest and to his waist. She’s impatient and needy, and she can feel him growing hard at her touch.

“This isn’t about me.” He hums, his hand brushing at hers away from him. His hand moving between them, finding her center and running his big hand over it. She whimpers at the feeling, his fingertips moving over the fabric of her underwear. “Just wanna make you feel good.” he murmurs into her mouth, his lips never parting far from hers. His fingers dip below her underwear, and she’s already wet. He uses her arousal around his fingertips to run circles over her clit, and she shutters at the antagonizing pleasure he’s sending through her nerves. Her hands reach for his biceps, as his fingers dipped lower curling into her as he pumps them in and out. She can already feel the orgasm coming, just from this alone. It had been since her birthday that she had anyone touching her like this.

With Ben it was so different, but she could feel it all over. Her entire body electric at the feeling of his lips moving down her jaw, pressing against her neck. His tongue sweeping over her sweet spot, taking his time to feel out what made her feel good. She lets a moan slip past her lips as his fingertips are back on her clit, pressing sweet circles. Her knees involuntarily closing toward his hips.

“Tell me what you want.” He demands, his voice a low growl. She shakes at his words, and she whines. “Need an answer.” he chuckles, kissing down her neck again.

“I want you.” she moans, he chuckles again, her impatience is adorable to him. He quickly removes his pants and reaches for his bedside table, grabbing a condom before making his way back to her. She reaches for him. “How do you want me?” she asks, she bites her lip as her eyes fall down his body.

“This isn’t about what I want.” he smirks, and she reaches out for him. Wanting to feel him close again. He was a perfect size. She impatiently waits to feel him slide into her. Again, he takes his time, slowly teasing her before giving her every inch of him. It feels different, but it feels good and his jaw falls open at the feeling of her around him. He watches as he fills her, waiting for him to fully sheathed inside of her before moving.

He doesn’t stop kissing her, even as he starts to pick up a steady but slow rhythm. His entire body is pressed against her and she likes it, her nails running up and down his muscled shoulders, and down his toned back. He’s moaning into her mouth, his hands are caressing her head and running through her hair. It’s intense, and she feels everything.

She can feel her orgasm coming, her head foggy as he drops his forehead to hers. His eyes finding hers, she reached for his face her fingertips tracing over his perfect features. She moaned softly, as he thrust into her spot, arching her hips up toward him. His fingertips are still sweeping hair out of her face, caressing her. It was sweet, and she liked the contrast to what she was used to, even if that was the way she usually liked things.

“Ben, I’m gonna cum.” she whimpers.

“Cum for me.” he growls. His hand is cradling her head again and after a few more thrusts she can feel it rolling out. His thumb gently swipes over her bottom lip, as her mouth drops open a shuttering moan leaving her throat. The intensity sends her reeling, her body shaking as he slowly pumps in and out of her a few more times just letting her go. She hadn’t noticed how roughly she dug into his shoulders, until her hands unclamped from his skin. Her face flushed crimson, and she kept her eyes closed as she began to come down from her high. Her body still sensitive when he moves from her she whimpers. He lays beside Selene just observing her try and catch her breath, his knuckles gently running over her hot skin.

They lay quietly together for some time, until the sun is beginning to rise. Selene, mostly is going over everything leading up to that very moment. She feels a sense of guilt, and even a little embarrassed. Ben is cuddled into her, his head pressed against her shoulder.

“Should I go?” she asks quietly. He looks up at her confused.

“Why would I want you to go?” Ben asks, a short laugh and confusion clear across his features. She searches the confines of his amber lit room, for details. “Do you want to go?” he asks. She shakes her head, hesitantly. “C’mere.” he murmurs, moving and opening his arms up so she can press into him. Her head now nuzzled into the crook of his neck. His arms hold her tightly.

“I don’t just sleep with anyone… I don’t sleep around.” she says quietly.

“I don’t think that of you.” he says, his voice is low and groggy. He’s clearly sleepy. She feels okay with his answer “And in a month, when I take you on that date, maybe you’ll understand that.”

Selene doesn’t respond. She just smiles to herself, letting the moment wash out. Ben was sweet. He was kind to her and treated her right. He deserved more than a rebound, and she knew that.

She couldn’t sort out why she felt so guilty. Part of it was for Ben, and the other part was for someone she hadn’t thought about all night. Until that very moment. That’s when he decided to come flooding back into her brain. Even in Ben’s arms, she had that flash of Joe.

.....

@omgellenlouise @hellysthings @justapurrcat@endlesslydead@hardcoredisneynerd @laurenn-nicoleee@asiachekov106@babebenhardy @fairestkillerqueenofall

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfic #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy hc

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dirtierhockey-blog · 6 years

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jeff skinner; untitled

( @morganfrederickrielly, butchered i tell you )

"I'll be just a minute," you assure Jeff, flashing him a smile before leaving him waiting in your front hall. As the designated single friends, you two almost always carpool to gatherings- you were just heading out for drinks but as always you were running just a few minutes late.

When you do re-emerge from your bedroom, Jeff's leaning against a wall, one hand shoved in the pocket of his slacks and the other scrolling through his phone. He looks dashing as always, a fact you won't dwell on until later.

"Ready," you chime as you bounce right up to him and lay a hand over his shoulder, smoothing the white shirt down over it even though there wasn't a wrinkle there prior.

"After you," Jeff grins brightly and leads you out.

You meet a group of ten or fifteen mutual friends and friends-of-friends at the bar, all clustered around a few tables at the back with two spots saved for you and Jeff. A few rounds later, a couple of the girls excuse themselves to the washroom, tugging you along. You pat Jeff's shoulder and tell him you'll be back before you're gone.

A lipstick touch up turns into lingering just outside the back door to wait for one of the girls to finish a cigarette, laughing along with the conversation topic of exploring some uh... silly fantasies.

"I'm just saying, it'd be nice to have some control," one shrugs. You're not sure how the conversation got here in the first place but you're not complaining, just not really participating...

Still, you have to smirk to yourself. It definitely is nice to have some control... and far too few women get any in bed.

"What's that face for?" There's a shove to your shoulder and a round of laughs, you feel your mouth spread further into a shit-eating grin.

"It figures, Jeff's definitely a bottom," this surprises you, but you do have to laugh at it. You and Jeff get your fair share of teasing for being so close, but you definitely haven't ever done anything to warrant it... in reality, anyway.

"Hey- it has nothing to do with Jeff, even though I can't say I'd turn down the chance to have a little uh, control over him..." you trail off with a laugh, but you're definitely not just joking.

"You already have him whipped!"

"There's a difference between having someone whipped and getting to whip them... or slap them, spit on them, use them like a toy..." you wave a hand in the air, earning jeers from every direction and you figure that's enough of that. Mostly because you didn't need to have the visuals of many similar dream scenarios stuck in your head for the rest of the night.

You flip them the bird, tell them it's too cold to stay out there and slip back in through the propped open door.

"Oh, there you are!" You look up to see Jeff just a few feet inside the door, lingering around the washrooms, holding your purse by his side. Something like satisfaction unfurls in your chest at the sight.

"Jeff," you smile, "Were you just bringing me my purse?"

"Hm? Yeah, that's-" Jeff stammers, avoiding eye contact, holding your bag out to you, "I didn't know if you needed it..."

"Thank you," he's still not looking at you, so it gives you enough time to take in the blush steadily taking over his pale skin, the fidgeting hands. Another burst of laughter from the alley breaks your concentration and you realize that if he'd been there for any longer than a few seconds he would've heard you…

You didn't need the purse, you'd been able to fit your phone and lipstick in your pockets but you feel a familiar fondness at the gesture- very close to, maybe even the same fondness that often has you considering utilizing Jeff's obedience and loyalty in more explicit ways.

The poor guy's obviously a second of agonizing silence away from shaking apart right in front of you.

"Let's get back to the table," you suggest breezily, like it wasn't clear he just heard you talking about wanting to use him like a toy. He doesn't respond to your words but he leans into your touch when you wrap an arm around his waist and pull him back towards the crowd with you.

You only end up staying another forty minutes or so. Jeff stayed just as well, flustered the entire time. He kept quiet, drawing no attention to himself, but you couldn't help but keep a hand on him at all times- on his knee, an arm slung around the back of his chair, crossing an ankle over his... he lets you, even leans incrementally into you.

You tell yourself it's just wishful thinking, and you're sure the tension will break as soon as you get out of the stuffy bar-

It doesn't, though. It's definitely not only you feeling the charge when Jeff opens the passenger door of his vehicle for you, passive eyes soaking up every movement you make getting in. If he's ever looked at you with that kind of reverence you've never noticed it before.

"Will you come in for a bit?" You don't know what possesses you to ask halfway through the drive but the meek nod that comes less than a beat later soothes any nerves you had about going through with it.

Jeff does follow you into your apartment, silent and a step behind you the whole way.

He breaths out your name the second the door falls closed behind you two. It sends an undeniable zip of arousal up your spine, and you can imagine his ruddy cheeks and bright mouth without looking back.

You drop your keys and clutch on the small table just inside your door and turn on your heel. In a few quick steps you're pressed up against his solid frame, his back against the door.

"Do you want this?"

"Yes, so much," his voice is barely there but the second he says yes you flick the lock on the front door and surge up to bite at his bottom lip, licking past it for only a second.

"Jeff, I wanna wreck you," you confess, breath fanning over his face. The flutter of his lashes and the flick of his tongue over where your teeth had just been does nothing to tamper down the violent urge.

"Wreck me-" you sink your teeth around the curve of his chin, waiting for the hitch of his breath and then, "Please."

"Get on your knees," you push off his chest, walking backwards from him, "show me how much you want it."

Jeff's falling forwards onto the hardwood floor in the blink of an eye, head tipped up to you needily. You swallow down a moan at the view, and it surprises you that your voice is still even when you tell him to get his shirt off. He obeys, so quick to do so he pops a few buttons, and drops it in the middle of your hallway.

You have to force yourself to turn your back and keep going down the hall to stop from drooling over the now exposed skin just waiting to be marked up. Freshly manicured nails twitch impatiently at your sides- when you get to your bed you dig them into your bedspread to alleviate the tension and gather yourself. You can hear him approach and force the stiffness out of your posture when he turns into the bedroom.

He looks stunned, pausing in the doorway. You finally kick your shoes off, fingers slowly unbuttoning your skin tight jeans as he watches on. You curl an index finger towards yourself to get him to move and soon he's at your feet, wide eyes unable to pick between the sliver of skin bared by your undone jeans and your face watching him.

"Put your hands behind your back for me, baby," his adam's apple bobs and his posture straightens to quickly follow the order, one hand curling around the opposite wrist at the small of his back. You push your jeans down your hips, letting them rest mid-thigh, and do the same with the black g-string beneath- Jeff licks his lips and for a second you think he's gonna pitch forward.

He doesn't, but he is staring so longingly, like he hasn't been so close to pussy in his entire life. There's no hiding the smirk on your face, and just to see what his face will do you slip a finger into the mess you've already made and pull it back soaking wet. Jeff's bottom lip trembles and his shoulders twitch with the effort of keeping his hands still. You can't take it anymore.

You turn around and bend over the end of the bed, arching your back delicately and spreading your ass for him with both hands, giving him open access to both holes. "Get to work," then he is pitching forward, his needy sound cut off in your cunt.

His tongue lavishes your clit and hole equally, exploring and collecting every drop of your juices he can. You let him have at it until you're grinding back into his face, close enough to just grind off on his chin but-

You reach one hand down further to find his mess of brown hair and get a handful with a surely painful grip. His tongue stops dead in its track, just teasing at your entrance, and he makes a strangled noise, questioning, desperate to get more- whichever, it has your hole clenching for something, anything.

Jeff follows the pull of your hand in his hair without hesitation- he even keeps his tongue out like a good boy while you guide him to your asshole. You throw your hair over your shoulder and crane your head back to look, tilting your hips to just barely roll your ass back onto his mouth. His eyes meet yours over the curve of your ass; the blush on his cheeks is deeper than you've ever seen, and you wish you could see the bulge straining at the front of his pants, or how tightly his hand is holding his wrist behind his back.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Jeff flicks the tip of his tongue over your asshole, meeting the greedy push of your hips. Then he repeats it with more pressure and the hint of a groan against the sensitive skin there. You can't contain the gasp his tongue wrings out of you and soon, as his tongue presses more and more hungrily against that tight ring of muscle, you're slipping a hand under you to rub your clit to relieve the ache. Jeff gets so sloppy that soon you're not sure if the mess between your legs and all over your ass is more your slick or his spit.

"That's so good- eat my ass so good," you manage to praise through the moans you let fill your bedroom, an edge of a growl in your voice as you buck back harder and harder.

You cum with two fingers working clockwise over your clit and Jeff's tongue just starting to push into your asshole with each eager lick. Typically you wouldn't cum so hard without something inside your pussy but you're so sloppy you can feel your cum gush out of you and having Jeff's face in your ass feels so dirty, so right it's like a new kind of climax, the satisfaction filling the deepest roots of desire.

He doesn't stop trying to fuck your ass with his tongue even as you tremble apart and shout wordlessly into the blanket, unsure how you're not pulling hair out with the death grip on his head.

Like the best fucking boy he doesn't stop until your hand in his hair is pushing his head away, thighs quivering and clenching together with the force of the over-stimulation. You can hear his heavy breathing, can feel his hot panting against your skin and you're pushing yourself up as soon as your arms work again.

You turn around and perch yourself on the edge of the bed, spreading your legs around his shoulders and smoothing his unruly hair down with both hands carding through it.

"Get your cock out, sweetheart," you coo, licking your lips slowly as you watch him comply.

Even in the shadows between the bed and his body you can see the shine in the slit of his cock. It's so hot thinking of how painfully turned on he must've been licking your ass out that you're almost tempted to get his mouth back on your pussy to get off again. You're fairly certain you have time, so you keep your focus on the dick he's still being so good as not to stroke.

Holding his head in one hand, you lift the other to your mouth, spitting into it and reaching down, all the way to spread the mess over his cock. He whimpers deliciously right in your ear, head sagging down to watch your fingertips slicking up every ridge and vein you can get to.

You turn your head to press your mouth into the side of his face, feeling his shudder as you pull your hand back with the tease of a nail ghosting over his tip, "stroke your pretty cock for me, Jeff, baby, I want you to make yourself cum."

As desperate as expected, his hand flies to his cock, fingers wrapping tightly around the full shaft. He's lightning quick and you sit up again to take in the whole sight, Jeff listing towards your stomach with his eyes squeezed shut, so far gone and just far enough from what he needs that you can see tears forced out at the corners of his eyes.

There shouldn't be such an unbearable warmth filling your chest from that but it's just showing you how badly he's needed you to take care of him.

Jeff comes apart with the most beautiful cry, face pressing into the give of your stomach. His cum streaks all the way up his chest and his whole body shakes with the come down. You let him rest his weight into you, carding your hands through his sweaty hair gently now. Eventually his panting calms down, but neither of you move. You curl your body over him, pressing your lips to the top of his head with a chaste kiss.

"We should've talked about that more..." you admit into the silence when it finally feels okay to.

"Next time," is all he says, muffled into your tummy. You laugh and not just because the vibrations tickle.

#jeff skinner #j skinner #*#nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #smut #i wasn't abt to spend an hr on the title woops #also what is proofreading or editing lol

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someinvisible-string · 5 years

Text

Magnificent and Furious Ch. 10

Summary: After many years, rumors swirl that the Evil Queen is back and filled with more vengeance than ever. But instead of setting her sights on Snow White she goes for the thing Snow loves most, her beloved daughter Emma. For her own safety, Emma is to be transported to safety on an unassuming merchant ship, where she meets two indentured servants hoping for a way to find their freedom

A/N: I am so so SO sorry about the late chapter update, I'm going on my 6th day in a row of opening at my job and I've been exhausted and I totally forgot to post yesterday. But I hope this extra long and action-packed chapter makes up for it! Huge props to @justanotherwannabeclassic for betaing this chapter and helping me make it as good as it can be! Also as always be sure to go to my blog and check out the chapter header @princesse-swan made!

CW: battle, but not like game of thrones level violence, more like The 100 or The Hunger Games level of violence

last chapter/ AO3

picset

Emma woke the next morning to Killian pressing soft kisses to her shoulders and collarbone, she giggled when he brushed over where her neck met her shoulder.

“Someone’s awake,” he smiled. She rolled over nestling her head on his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly trailing over his chest. The day’s plans started to sink into her. “Hey,” Killian said tapping her on the shoulder. “You’re going to be great today.”

She nodded, letting out a long breath. “Well, I guess we should get up then.”

“Hold on there,” he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, leaning into her ear and whispering. “Last night was…”

“Incredible,” she smiled.

“Aye, that it was. But I just need to know, why last night?” Emma could see his unasked question in his eyes. Did she want to make love to him because it was going to be her one and possibly only chance to?

“Because, it all clicked for me,” she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re really in this for the long haul, and it’s a longer haul than we both expected. And I know that you’re to be with me through it all.” She took a deep breath, “And I know that I love you and that when this is over whether that be 3 months, 3 years, or 3 decades from now I will still want you by my side for whatever adventure awaits us.”

Killian’s soft smile grew larger, “I love you too and I vow that I’ll be right here with you no matter what.” He tilted her head up, his kiss was tender and soft. Emma let that kiss fortify and strengthen her for the day ahead.

“Let’s do this,” she whispered as they broke apart. He chuckled and rolled over, fetching his clothes from where they were scattered across the tent, throwing hers in her direction.

The air was still cool and the grass still dotted with dew as Emma and Killian trudged across the camp in search of breakfast. A few people from each faction had come together and restarted last night’s fire, the scent of ham smoking slowly making its way throughout the camp.

“Good morning,” Elsa smiled at them as they approached. She was perched on a log, daintily eating some fresh berries. Merida sat beside her digging into her plate of ham with gusto.

“Morning,” Emma smiled stretched tight over her mouth. She noticed her friends’ eyes flicking over to Killian. She could practically see them putting two and two together and when Elsa and Merida looked at her with wide eyes she couldn’t help the blush rising on her cheeks. She and Killian sat down next to them, plates of food balanced on their laps as they tried to make small talk. As the sun rose more and more people gathered around them, nervous energy soon filling the camp. No one wanted to sit still, the blacksmiths worked on sharpening razor-sharp weapons, archers tested their bows and examined their arrows with frantic attention, Emma sat her knee jiggling up and down.

A loud caw broke through the hustle and bustle of the camp; Emma looked up, her raven from last night fluttered down to her, a scroll tied to his leg.

“Well, what does it say?” Merida asked as Emma unfurled the scroll.

“She’s agreed to the parlay,” Emma said, her voice shaking. This was it, it was now or never. “I’m to meet with her at the prearranged spot by midday.”

“Emma!” Roland said running up to the campfire, flanked by Robin and a few merrymen and Merida’s archers. “I have some pretty important news, we all snuck down to Regina’s castle and-”

“I didn't tell you to do that!” Emma bristled. “What if you were seen? What if Regina hurt any of you?”

“She didn’t and you said you needed us for reconnaissance so we went out and you really need to hear this. Regina has men, loads of them. Way more than she could get if she was just ripping out their hearts and controlling them.”

“She has allies? But how? Who in their right mind would ally themselves with her?” Merida asked.

“They were separated into factions,” Robin described. “One seemed to be made up of these big burly blokes with furs. Their flags had some purple and green and the soldiers seemed to be led by 13 generals.”

“The Southern Isles,” Elsa whispered. “They must have heard that Arendelle was joining you Emma and joined Regina. They have been trying to overthrow my kingdom ever since I took the throne.”

“Who’s in the other faction?” Killian asked.

“They had flags with dragons on them, a big sword down the middle with 2 on either side. But that’s all I could really get from them, I’m sorry,” Roland explained.

“That has to be Camelot,” Emma said stunned. Camelot while never a strong ally, was also never hostile with Misthaven. “Why would Arthur join Regina?”

“Perhaps they have some sort of agreement between them?” Killian offered. “He helps her here, she helps later down the line.”

“Regina doesn’t exactly work like that,” Emma bit down on her thumbnail nervously. “Something isn’t right about this but there’s not much we can do right now to figure it out. Regina agreed to the parlay but I’m not going to be so naive as to think she won’t go in without backup. I say we move out, get into the formations I went over last night.”

“Agreed your highness, all right, men!” General Abarca boomed out. Emma tried to hide her surprise at his approval. “Get ready to move out.” All around them, King Thomas’s men scurried about, some wolfing down food, others running back to their tents to get their armor on.

“Emma, I have something for you,” Elsa said taking her hand. She could feel her friend’s hand shaking, Emma squeezed her hand tight hoping to comfort her slightly. “Follow me, it’s back at my tent, Killian can come too,” she smiled knowingly. The four of them walked quickly to Elsa’s tent, Elsa still holding on to Emma’s hand tightly, Emma couldn’t tell if it was she or Elsa who was shaking.

“What is it?” Emma asked.

“You’ll see,” she said quickening her pace to put some distance between them and Killian and Merida. “Now tell me about your friend Killian.”

The question felt so out of place for what they were all planning on doing later that day that Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry I just wasn’t expecting that,” she giggled and held her friend’s hand tighter. “He’s… well, I don’t quite know what to describe him as. He’s smart and kind, and he’s stuck by me throughout this whole adventure.”

“And?” Elsa said, her excitement palpable.

“And I love him,” Emma turned her head to look back at Killian who was being interrogated by Merida. He nervously scratched behind his ear but caught her looking at him and smiled softly at her.

“I’m really happy for you, Emma,” Elsa said, squeezing her hand and pushing her way through the flap of her tent. Inside was spacious, just enough room for the four of them and a blacksmith who was polishing some armor. The breastplate shone brightly, the plates extending up to cover the collar and shoulders. Matching gauntlets shone on a nearby table with a new shield polished bright enough that Emma could see her reflection in it.

“Oh, Elsa, this is beautiful,” Emma said in wonder, holding up the gauntlets for a closer look.

“You like it?”

“Of course, this work is exquisite,” Emma responded, looking down at the shield. “But these flowers, those aren’t your insignia?”

“No, they’re yours,” Elsa smiled. “It’s yours.”

“Elsa I can’t,” Emma stuttered.

“I’m not letting my best friend walking into a parlay with the queen without something to protect herself,” Elsa said firmly.

“You’d have to be daft to go in there with nothing but that vest on,” Merida piped up.

“And I can’t say I disagree with them,” Killian said.

“Killian, I didn’t know you were coming, so I don’t have anything that will be as fitted as this is,” Elsa gestured to Emma’s armor. “But I’m sure we have some pieces that’ll fit you well to give you some protection too.”

“You’re giving me armor?” he asked, stunned that someone would even feel bad for offering second-hand armor when he had nothing.

“Of course, I doubt Emma wants you down there with no protection,” Elsa shrugged.

“Can’t say I disagree,” Emma smirked.

Midday came, Emma waited in the pre-agreed spot, her eyes trained on the horizon. From atop her new steed, a bay colored mare the Merida’s camp had brought, she could see for miles. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, her nerves on edge, her mare pawing at the ground clearly feeling her rider’s tension. Emma tried not to have her new armor clink and clash against her shield and sword, it had been so long since she’d wielded a sword and shield while wearing armor that it took some getting used to. She had decided against the leg gauntlets, instead choosing to wear thick leather breeches so she’d be more mobile if she needed to make a quick dash up the mountain. She glanced over her shoulder, she knew Merida and the other Merrymen were hidden just out of sight and even further back Killian waited with General Abarca. She wished she could just look at him, she knew all her doubts and uncertainties would melt away if only she could look into his ocean blue eyes.

Up on the hill she finally saw movement, Regina also mounted on a black steed clad in decorative chainmail. She was flanked by two guards, one on each side. Emma’s heart sank, everything inside her screamed that this parlay was going to end in battle. She held her head high, shoulders back, she was prepared. She knew Regina might do something like this, Roland’s news had basically guaranteed it, her eyes scanned the mountain further behind Regina and sure enough, Black Knights and soldiers were picking their way through the trees and brush trying to remain unseen. If Emma could see them, no doubt Merida or Robin or even Roland could see them and hopefully send word to her foot soldiers. Slowly, painstakingly, Regina made her way to the clearing.

“Well well, the Savior in the flesh,” the queen smiled. Emma shivered, her parents had been right. There was something off with her, very off.

“Regina,” Emma said, easing her steed forward. “I believe we had the matter of my parents to discuss.”

“Yes and here’s the discussion,” the queen cleared her throat. “I will keep them alive but only just, they will suffer like I did for years but only after I tear your still beating heart out of your chest.”

“Regina you don’t have to do this,” Emma said, hoping to reason with her. “Let go of your revenge, you have the power to end a cycle of violence and abuse that started with Cora and continued with the Dark One. You can end this.”

“Don’t you dare mention my mother,” Regina bristled, bringing her hand up. A ball of fire formed and before she could even think Emma’s steed reared in fear and turned and ran towards the forest. Emma could feel the heat of the fireball before she could see it, thinking quickly she rolled sideways off her saddle and landed on her feet. She watched her horse disappear into the woods as her reinforcements began pouring in on all sides. Arrows whistled over her head from high above, several grunts told her they found their targets. Quickly unsheathing her sword Emma turned, Regina’s Black Knights running quickly towards her. She took a deep breath and raised her sword, a quiet calm falling over her as she ran out to meet them. Her sword clanged loudly against the first knight’s, he was tall and broad but relied too heavily on brute strength. Emma kept low, using her shield to obscure his vision and dancing out of his reach. The thundering of footsteps and war cries filled the air as King Thomas’s men poured in from all sides. Emma found an opening in the knight’s chainmail where his leg was exposed, she ran her sword through, trying to ignore his howl of pain. He fell to his knees, Emma ran on trying to close the space between her and Regina’s castle as quickly as possible.

“Emma!” Killian’s voice was high and panicked, Emma looked around frantically searching for him. She spotted him, dueling two knights at once, his sword a mere flash of steel as he wielded it back and forth. She sprinted over to him, terrified that she wouldn’t make it in time, that he’d take a wrong step, when an arrow spliced through the air striking one of the knights in the neck. She saw Roland drop down from above them, already pulling another arrow from his quiver.

“Thank you,” she said as she ran up to him.

“Don’t thank me quite yet,” he said, letting loose another arrow and hitting a knight on horseback. His horse whinnied as it’s rider fell, lifeless from his back, galloping on through the battle.

Killian wheeled around, heaving his sword into his opponent’s side and slashing upward. He turned and ran towards Emma and Roland, blood shining on his armor. “We need to get you to the castle,” he yelled over the din of battle.

“What about Merida and Elsa?” Emma asked she wasn’t about to ditch her friends here.

“They have to be around here somewhere, but Emma we have to make some moves if we’re going to get up to the castle,” Roland said already leading the way through the mass of fighting. As quickly as he was firing arrows he was picking them up or pulling them out of the fallen around them, Emma and Killian followed quickly behind him, cutting down any black knights that tried to get through. Emma tried to keep her eyes peeled for Merida’s mass of red curls or Elsa’s light blue armor.

A sudden coldness fell over them, Emma knew that Elsa must be close. Sure enough, Elsa was there, wielding her magic unlike Emma had ever seen before. Elsa stood with her arms outstretched, ice and snow flowing from her fingertips freezing soldiers in their tracks and shattering their steel.

Roland, Emma, and Killian called out to her, Elsa turned and nodded to them. “Hold on!” she called as she twirled her hands through the air, ice and snow swirling higher and higher until a great roar echoed across the field. Soldiers and knights turned to see a giant ice monster roaring and swiping men across the ground with a flick of its enormous wrist.

“Marshmallow, cover us,” Elsa called as she sprinted towards Emma and the boys.

“What on earth is that?” Killian said, holding his sword at the ready while Roland readied an arrow.

“Oh, he won’t hurt us-” Elsa assured them, almost drowned out by Marshmallow’s bellowing. A thick fog burst from his mouth, surrounding them with slight cover. “But he will cover for us, now let’s go!” Elsa urged. The others didn’t need telling twice, with Marshmallow in tow the men parted giving them a clear path up the mountain. Emma was getting worried, she still hadn’t seen Merida anywhere since the start of the battle.

“You fools, don’t let her get away,” Regina screamed as she spotted Emma. A flash of red was the only warning Emma had before another fireball was shot at them.

“Get down!” she grabbed Killian and Elsa and tried to reach Roland as they fell to the ground. Emma could feel her hair ripple as the fireball passed over her. Marshmallow was hit directly; with a mighty scream he bust into pieces, large pieces of ice fell all around him as he crumpled to the floor,

“Ahhhh!” Roland screamed, Emma looked up to see that his sleeve had caught fire. He quickly rolled around to get the flames out, but Emma could tell his skin was badly burned. “Go!” he yelled as they went to help him.

“No we’re not leaving you here,” Killian said, fiercely.

“Just go, you’re wasting time!” Roland’s eyes were full of fear and pain as he tried to get up. His clothes had fused to his skin, if he wasn’t trampled to death then an infection was going to do him in for sure. Marian’s sweet face swam before Emma’s vision.

“No, I’m not leaving you here, Killian help him up,” she commanded. Roland screamed as Killian hoisted him up. Emma ducked under and supported his other side, Elsa fought off any approaching guards with her magic as Emma and Killian dragged Roland off into the woods. “Lay him here,” Emma said, pointing to a boulder covered in soft looking moss. Roland was grinding his teeth together, trying not to scream as Emma bent close and inspected his burn. It was as bad as Emma expected, his skin red and raw. Flesh was burned away and what remained was now fused to his clothes.

“Please just leave me,” Roland begged, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“Not a chance,” Emma said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Emma,” Killian said, his voice thick and raw. “Look.” Emma looked down, her hand was glowing, a golden light coming off of it in waves. She held both her hands up to her face, both glowed, a slight warmth spread from her fingertips all the way to her chest. Instinctively Emma held her hands over Roland’s skin before their eyes the skin healed. Blisters faded and skin repaired itself. Emma withdrew her hands and Roland held up his arm to his face, blinking in disbelief.

“You have magic?” Roland looked up at her in awe.

“Yes,” Emma panted, her energy drained. She looked up to see Elsa and Killian staring at her.

“I never knew you could do that,” Elsa said, looking down at her own hands.

“Is this part of-” Killian began to ask, his voice low, raspy, and awestruck.

“I think so,” Emma nodded. The four of them stood in silence as the battle raged just beyond the trees. Emma breathed in, trying to ignore the scent of blood and burning wood that perfumed the air. “We need to get back out there, Roland are you sure you want to come with us?”

Roland took one last look at his newly healed arm before nodding, “I’m sure. Let’s go.” He got to his feet, slinging his quiver over his shoulder and white knuckling his bow, his brown eyes hardened as he faced the field. The other three followed behind him as he marched out of the woods.

“Emma,” Killian whispered as he fell into step with her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she huffed, holding her sword higher. There was no time to discuss her magic, they needed to get up that mountain, she quickened her pace to catch up to Roland and Elsa.

The sound of battle had been muted in the forest, but as they set foot back on the field the din of battle rang in their ears. Men screamed, horses whinnied and bellowed, their hooves pounding the earth, swords and shields clashed together ringing their ears. The flames from Regina’s fireballs had spread, the smoke thick and black and stung everyone’s eyes and throats.

One voice rang out over all the rest, Merida riding on her warhorse Angus firing arrows and bellowing at the other riders following her.

“Merida!” Emma yelled, pointing at her friend so that the others would follow her. She ran through the crowd, pushing and shoving people out of her way.

“Come on lassie, jump on,” Merida shouted when she saw Emma running towards her, she looked over to her other riders. “Give them your horses, make me proud!” Her men instantly demounted their horses, allowing Elsa, Roland, and Killian to quickly mount them. Emma hoisted herself onto Angus, gripping tight to Merida’s waste.

“To the castle!” she dug her heels into Angus, spurring the horse faster. The horses moved so fast it felt as if they were flying through the battle, it was all Emma could do to hold on let alone fend off any Black Knights who tried to unseat her or Merida. One growled at her as he tried to grab her by the leg, Emma kicked him and heard the satisfying sound of crunching bone as his nose broke. She looked over her shoulder and saw Elsa casting her ice magic, freezing Regina’s men in place.

“Once we reach the trees it’ll be harder for them to follow us,” Emma screamed in Merida’s ear.

“Come on Angus, just a bit further,” Merida urged her horse on and up the steep terrain. Higher and higher they climbed, the sound of war sounding more and more distant. The late afternoon sun hung low and bright in the sky, the smoke rising turning it red.

Before Emma could even properly formulate anything resembling a plan, she could see the gates of Regina’s castle. Merida pulled on the reigns, slowing Angus to a walk then stopping just out of sight of the castle.

“So what’s the plan?” Roland asked, sliding off his horse. “I counted around 20 guards still guarding the castle.”

“We’re going to need some kind of diversion,” Emma said. “Lead all or most of them to one spot while we sneak in somewhere else. Elsa, think Marshmallow is up for it?”

“It’ll be his pleasure,” she smirked, she inhaled deeply and threw her arms in front of her, ice and snow swirling higher and higher as Marshmallow formed. He roared and stomped off towards the castle, smashing trees and throwing boulders towards the left side of the castle. Emma peaked between the trees, Black Knights were running full speed towards the giant snowman leaving their posts unattended. She spotted a balcony leading to a glass door, the wall outside of it easily climbable. She pointed it out to the others.

“Let’s go,” Emma darted out, running quickly towards the wall. Roland and Merida both fired arrows connected to ropes into the wall, both getting caught in between the grout of the wall. Emma tested the ropes and finding that they would hold her weight began to climb up the wall.

Up the wall, over the low balcony wall and through the glass doors, Emma and her friends made it into the castle with ease. Emma crossed the room and opened the door out on to a deserted hallway. She looked around, her sword held ready for an attack but none came.

“So which way love?” Killian asked. Emma froze; she didn’t know. She had been so focused on getting into the castle, she’d barely spent a thought about what she would do or where she would even begin to look for her parents.

“Um,” Emma bit her lip, turning and looking in all directions. “They’re probably down in the dungeons.” She started towards her right, figuring at some point they’d find a staircase that would take them down below the castle. She silently prayed the dungeons were somewhere downstairs as she raced down the hallway.

“Slow down!” Roland panted as he jogged to keep up with her. “If we make too much noise, the guards will find us.”

Emma whirled around and faced him, “I’m this close to saving my parents, I’m not slowing down until I get them the hell out of here.”

Roland looked down at his feet, hushed into silence as Emma started down the hallway once again, she opened a door she found at the end of the hallway and to her relief, she found a stairway. She hurtled herself down it, hoping that at the bottom would be the dungeons. Around and around they went, everyone silent and looking nervously over their shoulders or squinting into the darkness ahead of them.

Finally, she reached the last floor, Emma didn’t wait for the others to catch up to her; she opened the door and walked into the large entrance hall of Regina’s castle, filled with Southern Isle soldiers who all turned as she burst in.

“It’s her!” one shouted and the guards began to move towards her. Emma’s friends stood behind her, each pulling out their weapons to defend themselves. Elsa froze the floor in front of them, several guards slipped and fell but more moved around the ice and were still coming. Merida and Roland fired some arrows into the wave of knights but were only able to strike down a few of the many. Emma swung her sword as soon as one came close enough and got lost in the chaos.

“Keep her alive, the Queen needs her for later,” another guard shouted at the one fighting Emma. She took advantage of her knight’s temporary distracting, slicing him across the shoulder. No sooner had he slumped out of her way then another grabbed her from behind, Emma struggled against his grip trying to stamp on his feet.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, running towards them, his sword held high as he ran towards them. The knight held Emma close, using her as a human shield, knowing that Killian wouldn’t do anything that would hurt her. She saw Elsa discreetly froze his foot to the ground, Killian quickly maneuvered around him, ramming the pommel of his sword into the knight’s helmet. He groaned and let go of Emma as he fell to the floor, his helmet ringing with the force of Killian’s blow. He took her by the hand and began to run across the room, ducking and dodging around knights, not even sure where they were going.

“Hey princess!” a knight yelled, his voice full of self-satisfaction, Emma recognized him as Hans, the youngest of the Southern Isle princes. She whirled around and saw Merida, and Roland all behind held by several guards each. Elsa appeared to be unconscious, her guard roughly holding her head up by her hair. Emma stopped dead in her tracks, rounding on them with her sword raised. “Ah ah ah,” Hans held his hands up. “Wouldn’t want to do something that’ll get your friends hurt would you?”

“Let them go,” Emma lowered her sword but kept on her toes.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he shrugged sarcastically. “You see the Queen is very interested in these friends of yours. She needs you and at least one of your friends here alive. So I’ll offer you a deal, you come quietly with us and all your friends live or you try to fight us and we let you pick with one lives while we kill the rest, sound good to you?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her eyes glancing at Elsa’s limp form, “All right.” Her sword clattered to the floor as she raised her hands over her head.

“Your friend too,” Hans pointed to Killian.

“Emma-” he started.

“It’s okay, it’ll all be okay,” Emma wasn’t sure if she was telling Killian that or herself. Killian dropped his sword and raised his hands over his head, mirroring Emma. Several guards ran over to them, they roughly shoved Emma’s hands behind her back and bound them with rope. “What did you do to my friend?” Emma asked, her eyes still on Elsa.

“You’ll soon find out,” a knight roughly said, as he hit her over the head. Emma felt pain bloom in the back of her head as stars danced before her eyes before it all turned to black.

#csbb #captain swan #csff #cs au #cs fic #get comfy because this is a longer chapter #but I still hope yall like it!#my fic #m + f fic

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Being Alone, Andrew Bogut, and Apparently: Initially shy of strangers, an affectionate, playful, well mannered family pet with a STELLAR Resume, sits broken hearted & alone, dreaming of home.... Wakota ID 58188, 2 YRS. 68 LBS OF LOVE, WAITS WITH HOPE FOR A FAMILY TO LOVE HER. MANHATTAN ACC TO BE KILLED – 3/30/2019 Dakota waits and waits and waits….all she dreams of, all she thinks about, is going home. Rescued 2 months ago, after probably being either dumped by yet another family, her life has been one of constant change and disappointment. She put her whole heart into this last parent, making sure that she was perfect in every way – housetrained, crate trained, performing her commands just to see them smile. And she was certain that this time….finally….she’d found a parent who would stay. And then along came the pesky landlord and his “no pets” policy, and that was the end of Dakota’s dream. Now she sits again in a small kennel, her hopes dashed again, and it’s not going well. Do you blame her? Her heart shattered over and over, and yet she is barely 2 years old. This is not the dream of puppyhood! Curious and respectful around dogs, a STELLAR RESUME for one so young, we’d love to see Dakota finally loved the way she should have been loved since birth. Don’t let this poor pup down. Hurry and message our page or email us at [email protected] for assistance fostering or adopting Dakota so her dream of a family who stays can finally come true. Dakota, ID# 58188, 2 Yrs. Old, 68 lbs. Unaltered Female Manhattan ACC, Large Mixed Breed, Black / Brown Owner Surrender Reason: Landlord won’t allow Shelter Assessment Rating: New Hope Rescue Only Medical Behavior Rating: 5. Red AT RISK MEMO: Dakota has remained fearful in the care center and in her previous home environment; displaying signs of fearful aggression such as growling and barking at strangers and quickly becomes nervous during handling. Dakota would be best suited for placement with a new hope rescue partner that can provide gradual behavior modification. Medically, Dakota seems healthy. INTAKE NOTES – DATE OF INTAKE, 3/26/2019: Upon intake Dakota had a loose body and wagging tail. When first approached she hard barked but still a wagging tail and loose body. She allowed the counselor to leash her and walked well on the leash beside the counselor. She avoided pets and being collared so no further handling was attempted. OWNER SURRENDER NOTES – BASIC INFORMATION: Dakota is a roughly 2 year old large dog whom was rescued and kept for roughly 2 months. Unfortunately, due to landlord issues, she was unable to be kept. She previously lived with 1 adult. Around strangers she is described as reactive but will warm up after a few minutes. It was not observed how Dakota would behave around children. Around dogs she is described as curious and respectful. It was not observed how Dakota would behave around cats. Dakota h as no resource guarding issues and she has no bite history. She has a high energy level. Dakota is housetrained. She has never had any medical issues. Other Notes:: Dakota is described to bark often and destroys things in the home when left alone for too long. She isn't bothered with loud noises, being bathed, having her nails trimmed and being brushed. She will bark and growl when unfamiliar people approach her home or owner. She is afraid of being held but will warm up afterwards. For a New Family to Know: Dakota is described a affectionate, playful, shy, fearful and somewhat anxious. She enjoys playing with bones, does well in a crate for a few hours, was being free feeds dry food Merrick and is considered very house trained. She behaves well when left alone but when left for too long without being walked she will use the bathroom in the home and destroy house hold furniture. She knows the commands paw sit, down, come and inside when sending her inside of the crate. She was being walked 3x a day and pulls hard on leash. SHELTER ASSESSMENT SUMMARIES – Date of assessment:: 3/28/2019 LEASH WALKING Strength and pulling: Moderate Reactivity to humans: None Reactivity to dogs: None Leash walking comments: None SOCIABILITY Loose in room (15-20 seconds): Moderately social Call over: Approaches quickly Sociability comments: Body soft, checks in with assessor and licks hand, explores room HANDLING Soft handling: Extremely fearful Exuberant handling: Not conducted Comments: Soft body, nudges assessor's hand. When assessor attempts to touch her back, she head flips quickly twice and moves away. The rest of the handling portion of the assessment is not conducted for this reason. AROUSAL Jog: Follows Arousal comments: Loose at first, when assessor turns Dakota tenses and stares Knock: No response Knock Comments: None Toy: No response Toy comments: None INTAKE BEHAVIOR - Date of intake:: 3/26/2019 Summary:: Loose body, barking, avoided handling MEDICAL BEHAVIOR - Date of initial:: 3/26/2019 Summary:: Growling, barking, lunged, sedated for medical ENERGY LEVEL:: Dakota is described as having a high level of activity. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct her energy and enthusiasm. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: New Hope Only Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: No children: Due to reportedly being reactive and fractious with new people, as well as the fearful behavior she has displayed at the care center, we recommend an adult only home. Place with a New Hope partner: Due to all noted concerns displayed in a home environment and seen at the care center, the behavior department recommends Dakota be placed with a New Hope placement partner who is able to provide an experienced adult-only foster home. A period of decompression is recommended to allow Dakota to acclimate comfortably to her new environment; force-free, reward based training only is advised when introducing Dakota to new and unfamiliar situations. Consultation with a professional trainer/behaviorist is highly recommended for guidance to safely manage/modify any behavior Dakota presents with outside of the care centers. Potential challenges: : Fearful/potential for defensive aggression Potential challenges comments:: Fearful/potential for defensive aggression: Dakota is reported to be reactive and fractious with new people. At the care center, she has been social with some people but quickly moves away from quick movements and handling. Please see handout on Fearful/potential for defensive aggression. MEDICAL EXAM NOTES 26/03/2019 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 2-3 years based on teeth Microchip noted on Intake?yes Microchip Number (If Applicable): 911 002001 535 314 History : owner surrendered Subjective: BAR Observed Behavior - when owner present, calm and approachable; in the absence of owner, barking and growling and lunged at handler-- needs sedation for exam Evidence of Cruelty seen - NO Evidence of Trauma seen - NO dexdormitor- 0.9ml IM Butorphanol- 1 ml IM Objective P = 80 R = 30 BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: NSF PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: FI based on absence of OHE scar; mildly enlarged MG's (has had puppies before) MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment apparently healthy Prognosis: good Plan: behavior assessment SURGERY: Okay for surgery 28/03/2019 Request for Extension of Trazodone Trazodone-100mg Sig.: 2 tabs q 12 hrs *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** DAKOTA IS RATED NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY. You must fill out applications with New Hope Rescues to foster or adopt her. She cannot be reserved online at the ACC ARL, nor can she be direct adopted at the shelter. PLEASE HURRY AND MESSAGE OUR PAGE FOR ASSISTANCE! HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account \ Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email [email protected] Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309 *** NEW NYC ACC RATING SYSTEM *** Level 1 Dogs with Level 1 determinations are suitable for the majority of homes. These dogs are not displaying concerning behaviors in shelter, and the owner surrender profile (where available) is positive. Some dogs with Level 1 determinations may still have potential challenges, but these are challenges that the behavior team believe can be handled by the majority of adopters. The potential challenges could include no young children, prefers to be the only dog, no dog parks, no cats, kennel presence, basic manners, low level fear and mild anxiety. Level 2 Dogs with Level 2 determinations will be suitable for adopters with some previous dog experience. They will have displayed behavior in the shelter (or have owner reported behavior) that requires some training, or is simply not suitable for an adopter with minimal experience. Dogs with a Level 2 determination may have multiple potential challenges and these may be presenting at differing levels of intensity, so careful consideration of the behavior notes will be required for counselling. Potential challenges at Level 2 include no young children, single pet home, resource guarding, on-leash reactivity, mouthiness, fear with potential for escalation, impulse control/arousal, anxiety and separation anxiety. Level 3 Dogs with Level 3 determinations will need to go to homes with experienced adopters, and the ACC strongly suggest that the adopter have prior experience with the challenges described and/or an understanding of the challenge and how to manage it safely in a home environment. In many cases, a trainer will be needed to manage and work on the behaviors safely in a home environment. It is likely that every dog with a Level 3 determination will have a behavior modification or training plan available to them from the behavior department that will go home with the adopters and be made available to the New Hope Partners for their fosters and adopters. Some of the challenges seen at Level 3 are also seen at Level 1 and Level 2, but when seen alongside a Level 3 determination can be assumed to be more severe. The potential challenges for Level 3 determinations include adult only home (no children under the age of 13), single pet home, resource guarding, on-leash reactivity with potential for redirection, mouthiness with pressure, potential escalation to threatening behavior, impulse control, arousal, anxiety, separation anxiety, bite history (human), bite history (dog) and bite history (other). New Hope Rescue Only Dog is not publicly adoptable. Prospective fosters or adopters need to fill out applications with New Hope Partner Rescues to save this dog.

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Being Alone #Andrew B

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alittlepieceofwarcraft · 5 years

Text

A Winter Veil’s Tale

Year 33, after Orphans of the Forest.

Eshy’la swept past the tree tops as swiftly as a stone skimming water. Fast, elegant and silent she flew, eager to catch up with the beast she’d seen run beneath her. A panther of sorts - yet a moment or two before it began to dash between bushes and leafy giants, it had been something else. Her eyes narrowed, scanning between the foliage. There - she saw it. Without taking a pause she took a complete dive down and burst through the forest canopy to take a good luck at her prey. No longer a cat, but a kaldorei. She scowled and glared at it.

Verda was unaware of the fact that he was being hunted, though he was keenly aware of the wildlife around him. Such was his gift as a Green Dragon, being so in tune with the balance of life and nature. He stretched as he had shifted to his kaldorei guise, approaching one of the sentinel scouts he knew to report his findings for the night and where he was planning to set up camp in case he was needed. Eshy’la’s eyes narrowed again. Sentinels were not enemies and he was not being attacked. With a single flap her jade wings, she took flight and sailed away in the other direction to inform the others of what she’d seen.

Not but an hour later she found herself travelling back in the same direction only this time her sharp talons curled around a carefully stamped scroll.

“Return to him,” her mistress had told her, “and deliver this.” Eshy’la did not enjoy the prospect of leaving her alone twice in a night but obeyed without protest. Again, her keen eyesight scoured the forest floor, trying to find where she had turned tail to report. She flew onward until she noted a Sentinel or two she had seen before patrolling the direction where the elf-cat had encountered them. Gently, she lowered herself to a sturdy treetop and listened meticulously. Owls of course do not possess a sense of smell: instead they have sharp eyes and an intensely precise sense of hearing. So, she did as she gathered the sound of every twig snapped and every leaf crunching under foot, every critter tutting and squeaking. No tree stood in the way and no bush sheltered the noises being picked up by the owl’s notice. Nothing. The one her mistress had ordered her to find wasn’t in range or was extremely quiet. In response, Eshy’la gave a short, frustrated squawk, she began hopping down the branches and thudding to the forest ground. And that’s when she noticed just off to the distance, a looming cave entrance. One or two flaps brought her to another collapsed trunk that lay before its gaping entrance. And now she could hear movement. Not Horde, no, there’d be more than one. A single figure dwelled within. She almost coughed, as if to clear her throat, and gave two short hoots followed by another two. Then a third. When nothing approached, she did so one last time in a pointed manner, letting the one inside know that this was no idle bird chatter.

Verda heard the owl approaching, closer, closer. He had given it no real mind, just accepting it as a curious owl. They were intelligent creatures though, and he assumed it would just realize the cave was not a place it would find food with a larger predator there and would leave. When it persisted, he realized it was certainly no typical owl that could be found in the forest, and with that produced himself from the deep shadows of the cave. "Are you looking for me?" He asked. Taking in the spectral appearance of the owl, he assumed it was someone's spirit animal. Eshy’la let the scroll out of her grasp, allowing it to roll over and stop by Verda’s feet. She looked at it and then looked at him, then repeated the action.

“That’s for you,” she seemed to say. He was careful in his approach, not wanting to startle the owl nor make it think he was a threatening thing.

"You brought me something?" He asked gently as he stooped carefully to pick it up. Simply sitting there where he picked it up, he would begin to open it. "Thank you, friend. I appreciate your delivery. If I had spare food, I would give you a reward for it."

“Eshy’la indicated to me that she’d seen someone of your description so if this letter reaches you then I do hope very much that it is you, Verda. She belongs to me, Mywin, and has been with me since I was an infant and she was a chick. She is grumpy and snappy, but she won’t bite. I hope that when she returns, she’ll come back with confirmation of my hopes.

Elune-adore, Mywin.”

Verda smiled. "One moment, Eshy'la. Let me scroll a quick reply and I will let you on your way." He said to the owl, before disappearing back into the cave. A few moments would pass before he would return with a scroll, a little hastily tied, but secure none-the-less. Within was a letter that read:

"Ishnu-alah Mywin,

It is a surprise to hear from you, but also a relief to know that you are well! Eshy'la is beautiful, you must be proud to have forged such a friendship with a strong, independant beast. I will keep this short, as to not keep you or Eshy'la waiting. I will be here for a few more moons at least. The air is thick with anticipation, and I am eager to watch what may come...and help our people however I can.

Elune'adore,

Verdanikus."

The owl accepted the scroll into her talons and gave the dragon a curt nod before ascending into the heavens. While she didn’t appreciate becoming an in-flight mailing system, the feeling that she would be performing this role more and more as the weeks went by started to sink in. Verda would watch as she left, before moving back into the back of the cavern to get some rest. The light didn't quite reach back there, and while he could see those who may try to enter, they wouldn't see him til it was too late. He wouldn't sleep deeply, but he'd get enough to feel rested unless he was woken otherwise.

Yet again, Eshy’la found herself in flight. This time she whirled around Stormwind’s highest spires, darted past the tallest towers: her ever sharp vision searching for the recipient of the letter clasped between her claws. She swooped up and down until she saw him. The tall blue skinned being with intricate dreads unknowingly making his way around the shop just by a mailbox. She dived down and perched herself upon it as he passed and gave a quick hoot. He took one extra step before pausing and backstepping.

"Eshy'la? Well, hello there friend." He said in his quiet gentle way, bending down to be more eye-level with the owl. "I hope you and Mywin are both well." The owl dropped the scroll near his feet and awkwardly hopped from one leg to another, trying to warm them up. Her gloriously green translucent feathers looked delicate and thin yet kept her warm throughout the chilliest months. The same could not be said for her bare legs. Verda stooped to pick it up, then caught her hopping like that. "My things are with my friend. If you don't mind coming with me, you can warm yourself by the fire while I read this and make my reply." He offered. Eshy’la perked up, taking a few flaps of her wings, hovering beside him. “Take me to warmth”, she seemed to say. He offered his arm to her if she would want to climb on it, if not, he'd simply walk toward 'home' which was a tent just outside the gates of Stormwind in the forests of Elwynn. It was still close enough that they weren't in Goldshire and the city guard regularly patrolled. A few refugees had spilled out toward that way to settle how they could when there wasn't room in the city, and Verda's friends were no different. Eshy’la eyed the arm and reluctantly took it as a perch as Verda acted as a living vehicle for her. He shifted his gait so that he glided softly in his steps, giving Eshy'la a gentler ride as he headed out.

They'd come across a modestly sized tent outside the city, a fire burning bright already, the dinner pot freshly removed from it. As they approached, a little face popped out of the tent, a fairly young void elf just at the end of their toddler years with deep blue skin and a shock of wild blonde hair. A moment later, another identical face popped out next to theirs. They looked to one another before hurriedly disappearing into the tent, whispering in Thalassian to one another until an older void elf stuck her head out and chuckled. "Verda, the children were saying you had a pet ghost." He smiled a little sheepishly.

"Sorry for the fright. This is Mywin's companion Eshy'la. Eshy'la, this is Raineigh." Eshy’la bounced down onto the nearest flat service and flexed her wings, head slowly circling the area, flashing her eyes at the inhabitants and tapped her claws to indicate she was waiting. Being outside the tent, all there really was, was a single stool near the fire and a rock on the other side of it. The twins poked their heads out again, little white horns poking out from their blonde hair. Raineigh chuckled some looking back at them. "Alright, alright. It's just a spirit animal, little ones. It's quite a bit different than a ghost. Come, let's read a story while Verda visits with his friend." She said, heading into the tent with them, returning only to give Verda his pack. "Thank you, Raineigh. Sorry to interrupt Nathaniel and Tokemi's learning time," he whispered. "Don't be. They've been bored all day. At least now they had a little excitement," she smiled, slipping back within. "Alright, Eshy'la, let's see what this letter says that you brought me," Verda said, sitting down to read it finally.

“Dearest Verda,

It has been pleasant to be able to write to you these last few weeks. As the nights draw in sooner and become much colder, my shan’do has given us much needed rest bite. Winter’s Veil approaches - I’m sure you know of the funny little dwarven custom - and I am taking my leave to see my beloved parents’ memorial in Hyjal. However, I will be in Stormwind to visit a dear friend tomorrow evening. I know you are staying nearby and I would love to see you. If you would like to meet, I shall be finishing skating at the frozen lake at 7 sharp.

I hope to see you there!”

"Dearest Mywin,

I have enjoyed our discourse as well these past moons. It has been a wonderful reprieve from all that has gone on, and I'll admit, your letters always bring a smile to my lips. Eshy'la even rode on my arm today as I headed to where I've been staying, so I think she's starting to warm up to me. I have heard of Winter's Veil, but this is honestly the closest I've been to it. I've been curious, and my friend has been attempting to teach me more about it since her twins are eager for it. I would love to see you as well. I will make my way to the frozen lake by 7. -Verda" He would dust it as always, and dry the ink, before rolling and sealing the letter once more to hand to the owl.

Mywin stretched her arms wide and allowed the freezing breeze to rush against her face as she made a fast spinning whirl on the ice before taking a sprint to slide from one side of the lake to the other. She enjoyed skating upon the crystalline surface just as much as she adored to soar through the air and did so with an equal amount of elegant precision. As a youngling her father would take her upon his shoulders before she herself could even walk, cutting the frozen ground into swirling patterns with his boots as the infant Mywin would clap and demand he go faster and faster. By the time they were done, Sanctuary of Malorne that overlooked the lake would see the spirals and turns carved into the thick ice. When she could safely run through Hyjal’s forests by herself she was presented with her own tiny skating boots. Much like a newborn deer, her ascent onto the ice was clumsy: many a fall and slip were taken before she managed to stand by herself and shuffle about between her parents, one hand in each of theirs. A near century later, she took to the iced over water like a ballerina to the stage, able to perform various turns and spins for hours upon end. It was a most peaceful time.

The bells within the Cathedral of Light rang out loudly as the clock hit 7, darkness already falling, and the streetlights were well underway of being lit. Verda was prompt, however, wearing a knitted Winter's Veil sweater but the same old ragged pants, as he stepped barefoot to the edge of the lake. He would just stand and watch her, a soft smile on his lips to see how free she looked skating. Within, his heart skipped a bit. Mywin was completely lost in the dance. As she sailed upon the surface, she let slight wisps of astral magic fall from her fingertips, as if stars were snowing upon herself and she basked in their faint glimmer. A small pair of kaldorei children had stopped skidding around to watch her small performance and it took her a moment to realise she was being watched at all. She gave the pair a kind smile before reaching out, another cascade of silvery magic forming above them and even more stars fell down in an ethereal shower. They giggled, trying to catch the pieces of sky like snowflakes.

“Shaha lor’ma,” the taller and presumably older child beamed as he looked up at her.

“Elune-adore, dorei,” Mywin replied. She scanned the area, looking out for any adults that may have accompanied two younger elves, yet none seemed to be watching them. “Will you able to go home safe? It is getting late, it should be your bedtime soon.” The shorter one gestured to the refugee camp just over the wall.

“We live there, miss, with the other children.” Her heart dropped instantly. Orphans. Too many orphans. She shook her head, giving a gentle smile.

“Go, they’ll wonder where you’ve been now that the sun has been set for hours.” The pair scurried off towards the camp, Mywin watching solemnly as they did. Looking over her shoulder she saw Verda approach towards the edge of the frozen lake: she gave a large wave and reversed herself, gliding from the centre of the rink to bring herself to his side. Verda was entirely patient while she continued, and once he saw her wave, returned an enthusiastic one of his own. Skating wasn't something he attempted to do ever, more than because he didn't care for wearing shoes, but because he worried he'd forget to mask his weight when on ice.

She steadily made her way to a nearby bench where she’d placed her satchel. She unlaced the pair of skates, replacing them with thick leathery ones without a blade at its base and tucked her hands into a pair of fine fur-lined gloves. Much better. She stood again, pulling her cloak round her tighter and addressed Verda.

“There,” she smiled, “I shall not fall over in those now!”

"You're very good," Verda smiled, not seeming too bothered by the cold at all in as little as he wore. "It was a pleasure to watch you." Mywin flushed red before changing the subject.

“Aleeia and her falore live in a little apartment just by the cathedral.” She allowed her feet to crunch upon the fresh snow that had begun to fall from the heavens and began to walk towards the place she sought.

"I hope my presence won't be a bother. I'll try not to be in the way," he said a bit shyly.

“Not at all,” she assured. She marched forward making light conversation as they twisted around the alleyways and skinny streets of the Dwarven District until they reached the housing near the Cathedral. Mywin skipped up some side stairs to a first story floor, unhooked the latch and swung the sturdy door wide open. Verda was fine with the light conversation, a good deal more relaxed around her than he was the first time. He was, however, far more reserved when they got to the house, unsure how he would be received.

The door swept a warmth upon then and Mywin called out in the pleasant tongue of Eredun. The room was a modest size: fireplace cracking with hot flame, a thick knitted rug laying before it, a large leather couch piled with cushions sat to one end beside the entryway to a tiny kitchen with a single bed tucked itself away at the other end. In the very corner an impressive fern tree towered, just about fitting with its tip brushing the ceiling. A moment or two later, a female draenei popped out from behind the tree, hands tangled in a silvery tinsel. She was shorter than most draeneis of her age: silver hair swept over to one side, ghostly light blue eyes glowing. She ran over to give the elf an embrace, her height allowing Mywin could rest her chin upon her head.

“Greetings,” the draenei smiled and gave a wave, her fingers entwined with tinsel.

“Where is your sister, Imeyah?”

“She went to the blacksmith. She will be back soon.” She looked upon Verda and smiled again. He gave her a bit of a bashful smile, towering over her at his full 7 foot.

"Merry Winter's Veil, Miss Imeyah. I am Verda. I am honored to meet you," he said softly, giving her a little awkward bow.

“I do not understand much of the customs,” Imeyah admitted, “most of what I have gathered is through my men in the Silver Hand. Perhaps we will make sense of this festival together!” Mywin had hung her cloak up on a nearby hook, pocked her gloves within it, revealing an outfit far more suitable for the magical time of year: an ivory dress made of the most fabulous shimmering material glinted off of the baubles upon the tree, twinkling alike most of the decorations. Backless with a hem cut to the knee, it seemed the most perfect ice skating dress. Imeyah blinked in confusion.

“You are wearing a dress?” Mywin blushed a bright red.

“It was a gift from the Sisters. It seemed rude not to wear it.” Imeyah shrugged.

“Well, let’s get these baubles on the tree! Now you elves are here, you can reach the top branches!” Verda looked entirely frumpy in comparison, still barefoot with those age old tattered pants. The sweater was new and made with love, even if it was one of those Titans-awful looking ugly Winter's Veil sweaters. He had a faint hint of pink on his cheeks to see Mywin in that dress. He would wait to be shown where the baubles were before he'd attempt to help with the tree, watching how they spaced things to try to match it. Imeyah produced a box full to the brim of ornaments: bright red baubles, fragile glass icicles, tiny wooden figurines carved into various races of Azeroth. She set them before the pair. “I’ll make us some tea. Just put whatever you want on the tree, wherever! We’re not too fussy!” Mywin delicately selected a few before carefully arranging them upon the tree. Verda would take a few as well, very careful with his strength as he put them high on the tree with ease. He was smiling ear to ear the whole while. Mywin took a stool to try and reach the highest points, stepping on and off to see her work for a distance and returning to arrange them.

Imeyah brought out a steaming pot of tea and four large mugs, filling each one with the warming liquid beside a little bowl of a sugar cubes and small jug of milk.

“Help yourselves, my akiri'eras will be home soon.” Verda would always stop what he was doing when she was stepping on and off that stool, a little worried that he might have to catch her if she tripped, which entirely slowed down the amount of work he was doing. No that he minded, her safety was more important to him than being productive.

"Thank you," he said as he came to retrieve a mug once full. "Excuse me, but what is an akiri'eras?" He asked, likely mispronouncing it. Imeyah went red.

“Forgive me, my Common is not as good as I’d like. I usually have a translator. It is Eredun for sister.”

"Oh! Sorry, I've only learned a few words here and there of Eredun. It's a little harder for me to learn than other languages from the younger races." He said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Imeyah laughed.

“On the contrary, I am 24, 971 years old. New to Azeroth, old to the universe.”

“Too old,” a grumble came from the doorway as another female draenei stepped through. Pure white hair similar to her kin but clad in shiny plated armour that tucked in a Lion of Azeroth tabard. Newly sharpened swords hung at her waist. Her eyes were heavy with her exhaustion. Imeyah shook her head and tutted as she poured the second a mug of tea.

“Kathtonai, chako sister. We have a guest.” Aleeia studied Verda up and down as she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

“Sevaston,” she noted aloud, accepting a beverage from her sister. Imeyah coughed.

“Common, sister, Common.” Again, Aleeia nodded.

“I shall dress properly upstairs.” As she walked to the kitchen and up to the attic, Imeyah tutted for the second time.

“She isn’t the most joyous after she trains her soldiers.”

"Sevaston," Verda repeated, getting that one correct. "I at least know what that one means. It would be easier if I were one of the Blue flight. Their arcane knowledge makes it so they understand all languages." He said sheepishly. "She is just fine. My shan'do wasn't the most jovial outwardly...ever. Stoic is a good term for how he was when he was happy. Vaguely annoyed most other times."

“He and Aleeia would have gotten in well. As well as either of them could have, but the sound of it.” Imeyah sipped her tea and turned her attention to Mywin.

“Kalo korah, how are the Sisters?” Mywin gave a sad smile.

“Alive, my friend. Some of them. They dwell by the refugees, some moving to Hyjal.” Imeyah nodded.

“A happy thing your mother’s and father’s resting place was spared from the flames. Your mother’s statue also. It is well your family’s honour was not burned also.”

“Please, Imeyah, let us not dwell on sad things, it is Winter’s Veil after all!” Mywin stood again as Aleeia reappeared, now dressed in a simple white tunic and brown leathers. “Come everyone, let’s continue with our work!” Verda stayed quiet, not able to fully follow the conversation, but understanding enough of it. He was thankful to get back to decorating, hoping the mood wouldn't turn too sad.

And the four of them gathered round the tree again: sparkling tinsel lacing bare branches, baubles hanging like little orbs of colour, tiny wood figurines of warriors marching to the top. Miniature hunters swung below, and druids climbed upward. As they worked, conversation struck many a time. Old friends catching up, new strangers being asked questions and answering as they bonded. Where was he from, did he have family? How did he meet Mywin? Had he met draenei before? It took an hour or two until the great tree was decked completely. They would find that Verda had no secrets and would answer any questions they asked of him. That his egg had been found on Teldrassil, that he had been raised by a man he really only referred to as shan'do who had been cold and distant, but Verda had learned that he had cared about him in his own way. He had no family that he knew of, but dragon bloodlines weren't as easy to trace as mortal ones as they were, well, animals and animals didn't really care about the purity of bloodlines that much. He'd recount Mywin saving his life with such a wide smile on his face and the letters they've shared, and that he'd only ever saw a few Draenei here and there since most just came through the port of Teldrassil on their way to Stormwind or for supplies, but most never really hung around. Imeyah looked at Verda, and then to Mywin, and then to Verda again, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“My, what a long way you’ve come. Pardon however, I have a couple of errands to run outside. I’ll be back shortly, please excuse me.” She grabbed a bag from behind the couch and rushed out. Aleeia cocked her head at the dragon but said nothing.

“Aleeia,” Mywin muttered, “it’s rude to stare.”

“I’m not staring, I’m studying. There was no word for “dragon” in my tongue until we arrived on Azeroth. So many strange races. Humans with no horns, elves with no hooves,” she shook her head in disbelief, “incredible.”

Mywin shifted before laughing. “All this time travelling, and you aren’t used to the natives?” Aleeia gave a sheepish grin.

“I am not lost in the irony of us celebrating an alien festival. The tree does however look satisfactory.” The three took a moment to gaze upon the adorned piece of the forest. Aleeia reached for a sack, fishing out several parcelled goods. There were six identical wrapped gifts all addressed to her, a large soft one for Imeyah and two boxes. She handed one each to her guests.

“Naaru’s blessing.”

“Thank you, dear friend. What are the others?” Mywin gestured towards the six. Aleeia’s eyes softened, a rare expression of tenderness filling her face.

“Before I fled Shattrath, I made sure I took six of my people’s children with me. They are all grown now and due to this planet’s refuge, they took up their customs. I receive six presents each year.” Her eyes darkened. “Light forbid that this current war takes that number down by even one.” Mywin touched her friend on the shoulder.

“Elune and the Light have not abandoned us. It is by their grace that we have this rest bite today. We shall treasure your gifts.”

"Thank you for the gift. I...have nothing for which to give you...um..." Verda paused a moment. "Unless you would like to fly on a dragon? I could give you a flight over the bay." He offered. Aleeia raised an eyebrow.

“A kind offer, but I will pass. Imeyah may wish to. I prefer to keep my feet quite solidly on the ground.”

“She’s scared of heights,” Imeyah’s voice sounded from behind the door before her head popped around it.

“I am not scared of heights,” Aleeia insisted defensively. Imeyah simply laughed.

“I am to return to my men in at the Chapel. It was lovely to see you Mywin and meet you Verda. I’ve left you both a gift over the doorframe.” She gave a quick wave before disappearing again. Verda smiled.

"It's understandable. A friend of mine is terrified of flying though her husband is a Bronze Dragon." He waved to her as she left, though canted his head at the idea of a gift over the door frame. Thinking nothing of it, he turned his attention to the gift in his lap and began to open it slowly. Aleeia had wrapped an emerald crystal carefully in tissue, protecting its hard surface from chips and scratches. Not paying attention, his emerald tail slipped out, wagging slowly as he purred finding the gem. He was extra careful in pulling it out, eying it in the light. "This is beautiful, thank you."

“It is from Argus, crafted by my vakeri'eras, my mother, who curated precious artifacts. The ore was formed millions of years before my race existed and has been cut as it is for over 26,000 years. It is to remind the owner that from dust comes life.” She nodded proudly. Mywin produced a smooth peddle-like gem from her own parcel, a dark navy with silver specks that sparkled from the dark form. “And that is a stone that represents friendship. Seven years is nothing to an immortal but accounts for a priceless bond formed.” Mywin could feel a few tears well up in her waterline, yet she held them back and instead embraced Aleeia tightly.

“Thank you, my dear, dear friend.”

"Echada," Verda said carefully, making sure he pronounced the thank you correctly. "I will keep it with me always. A perfect gift. He didn't hug her, but had he known her better, he might have. Aleeia bowed her head.

“I believe I will be seeing a lot more of you in the months to come.” Mywin glanced at the clock in the corner that had just passed half nine.

“We should head back. You’ll be up at dawn, no doubt.” Aleeia nodded at the two.

“It was a pleasure. When the new year arrives, I will be reunited with you both.”

Mywin slipped on her cloak and hugged her friend farewell.

"It was an honor meeting you, Aleeia," Verda said, standing and bowing to her, standing beside Mywin so he could prepare to walk her home.

As Mywin closed the door behind her, she looked up.

“I wonder what Imeyah meant by a present up there.” Her eyes traced the top door frame and stopped on a bunch of dark green leaves, tied in red ribbon hunting above their heads. “Oh,” she sighed, “Imeyah.” Verda followed her, canting his head a bit as he looked it it. He was darn near eye-level with it as tall as he was. He stared a moment.

"Mistletoe?" He questioned, looking down at Mywin, hoping she understood better than he. Mywin went red.

“Mortals... hang it up... to signal a couple to kiss.” That certainly got him blushing too, glancing shyly away before peeking between his dreads at her.

"Is it...a prank or...is it a serious thing?" He asked. "I've...never kissed anyone before."

“It’s a sort of courting ritual. I believe Imeyah has placed it as a very unsubtle hint.” She clasped her hands behind her back and shyly hesitated. “We can just go if you would like.”

"You didn't want to kiss?" He asked before mentally thumping himself in the brain. "Of course, she doesn't, Verda. You're just being weird." He thought to himself.

“I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Mywin paused before leaning her face up to Verda’s and gently rubbing her nose again his a few times, surprising herself at the spontaneously direct yet diplomatic approach. She gazed into his eyes with quiet affection. “I think they call this, um, Tuskarr kissing. If you are not ready.”

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," he said before blushing as she brushed her nose against his a couple times. It got a purr rumbling loud in him. "Dragons do this to scent one another though...it's more like.." he gently brushed his nose against hers but continued the movement to brush his cheek against hers too. "Dragon kisses." He whispered, practically purple with blush.

“I like dragon kisses,” she whispered back. No one passed the door as they stood beneath the bouquet and they were in complete solitude. As if the rest of the world didn’t even exist. As if a war wasn’t raging just a flight path away: it was peaceful, it was calming. With each letter that came from Verda she felt a connection she hadn’t felt in a long time. Someone who knew her pain as fully and as intensely as she did herself. Someone who fought to protect what she loved as she did. Taking a short breath in the silence, she moved in and carefully gave the dragon-elf a gentle kiss. Likewise, Mywin had gotten to learn the solitude that Verda had lived in, willingly so, and the calmness of his soul. The fire with which he fought now was new, something he struggled with and found himself accepting it as well as learning more about himself with every further letter he wrote. Despite his solitude, he had never been much for self-reflection, just sitting back and watching the world to learn instead. But when he had looked inside, he had found a whelp that longed for a home, friends, and most of all... Mywin's kind heart. He purred some as he stared back into her eyes, the sound interrupted only when her lips first touched his as his breath caught. It took a moment before he gently cupped her cheek and pressed his more to hers. She sank completely into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and gripping on tightly. He was warm, so very warm. Although she couldn’t see, the burst of happiness flushed from her heart and surrounded her in a bold energy that materialised as a ring of beautiful flowers circling them. As the pair embraced in the doorway, snowy Peaceblooms, crimson Mageroyals, deep indigo Kingsbloods and golden Sungrass sprouted beneath them as a glorious miracle in the midst of a bitter winter. It had done much the same with Verda in the form of vines that entwined and tangled as they climbed up the side of the door frames, white roses, Khadgar's Whiskers, and lilies sprouting from it, the two of them encircled in a glow of green life magic. His hand rested warm at the small of her back, the other still at her cheek as he lost himself in her. How much time passed, Mywin didn’t know. She only stopped when an icy sensation took over near Verda’s hand upon her face. She opened her eyes to discover that it had begun to snow.

Verda pulled away, his breath steaming in the air as he looked to see what had caught her attention. The snow fell, beginning to dust the life that had sprouted white. "Sweet Titans," he whispered as he remembered to breathe.

“I think Elune approves,” Mywin chuckled, her own breath turning to vapour as she stared up.

"I think so as well." He agreed, smiling wide. "This was a welcome gift." Mywin reached for his hand and gripped it tightly.

“I should get back to the refugees.” He brushed his thumb against her skin, squeezing her hand back affectionately.

"I should return to Raineigh and her twins. I've been guarding them while her husband is away." They wandered back through the empty city streets. Children had long been tucked into bed with the promise of Father Winter visiting with lots of presents, parents were probably still up wrapping gifts and would be late into the night. Hand in hand, they manoeuvred the cold streets towards the refugee camp.

“So,” Mywin grinned, “are you courting me Verdanikus?”

That blush creeped right back up onto his cheeks. "I am," he said a bit bashfully. "I um...I am clumsily courting you but doing the best I can on all fronts." He couldn't help but chuckle a bit embarrassed. She leant her head against her shoulder as they strolled forward. They eventually reached the entrance of the camp and she pulled away to lean against him and kiss once more. He stooped some to meet her lips, sliding his arms around her to hug her close, though he was entirely gentle with his touch. "I hope I see you again soon." He whispered against her lips.

“You have my word,” she replied before untangling herself and making her way into the camp for the rest of the night.

He would wait until she was safely within before heading back out of Stormwind to shift into his panther form and sleep outside Raineigh's tent.

Darnassian

*Kaldorei - “Children of the Stars”, night elf.

*Falore – “Sister”.

*Shaha lor’ma - “Thank you”

*Elune-adore - “Elune be with you”

*Dorei - “Born of”, children.

*Shan’do – “Honoured teacher”.

Eredun

*Akiri'eras - “sister”.

*Kathtonia - “sit”.

*Chako - “drink”.

*Sevaston - “dragon”.

*Kalo korah “dear friend”.

*Vakeri'eras - mother.

*Echada - Thank you.

Co-written by Verda’s owner @fullelven.

Continues with Just After Midnight.

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fernwehbookworm · 5 years

Text

Knight of Kandor- Chapter 4

In my room, I throw the bolt to lock the door.

"Fuck!" I throw myself on the bed.

When the throbbing subsides some I manage to stand again and remove the heavy plates of armor. I finally sit and look at my ankle, I cringe. Black and blue splotches already bloom all over it. It has swollen so much that I cannot even see my ankle bones. From under my bed, I pull a small chest and open it. The chest is filled with various cloth scrapes that I gather for my moon blood. I usually burn them while men slept during that week.

I grab one of the longer scraps with a tight weave. I use it to tightly wrap my ankle and keep it stable. The pressure relieves some of the pain. Exhaustion overwhelms me. I only take off my under tunic, leaving my chest wrapped, my arms too tired to work at un-weaving it. I doze lightly, the throbbing in my ankle keeping me from a deep sleep.

A scream tears through my room. I bolt upright, grab the sweat-stained tunic from the floor and throw it over my head. I pull my sword from the scabbard on the floor. Quickly I unlock my door and dash across the hall. I throw my should against the door as I burst into the room. Inside I cast about, looking for the cause of the scream. Lena sits up on the bed, breathing heavily, Jessica holds her hand while rubbing her back in a comforting way. I scan the darkness for anything out of place.

"It was just a nightmare." Lady Jessica whispers to Lena. I glance at them again and quickly turn back around as my cheeks grow hot. Queen-in-waiting Lena Luthor was completely naked.

"Excuse me, my lady. I... I was not aware..." I hear a sharp intake of breath and the rustling of the sheets. I carefully move to the door, keeping my back turned the whole way.

"Kal, thank you for coming," Lena says in a small voice. I nod, still not looking than see myself out to return to my own room.

I try to sleep but after tossing and turning I give up and begin my daily exercises. This morning I also had to report to the Queen in her personal chambers. It was short seeing as I had only been here a couple of days. I also had to relay to Sir James the events of the day before. The Queen sat silently through it all except to dismiss me. Her dark cold eyes always made me uncomfortable. I take a deep breath when I leave to try and shake the feeling of judgment.

"Have you found anyone to be on your personal guard?" Sir James asks as he catches up with me.

"Donovan. I Like him. He has an eagerness to prove himself. Other than that, no."

"Excellent choice. That boy of yours, John, He is doing well. Surpassing all the guard trainees his age. You trained him well."

"Thank you, Sir James. He had a lot of natural talent, to begin with."

"Pleas Kal, Just call me James. We should be friends because we will be seeing a lot of each other.

"Okay, James. Is there anyone you suggest for me to check into?"

"Hmmmm..... I'll make a list for you. I have to go to the practice yard. Have a good day Kal."

Good was not the term I would have used for my day. After meeting Lena at her room, she leads us to a study with a large ornate desk. Books line the walls, two large armchairs sit in front of an even larger window that floods the study with daylight.

Jessica moves immediately to the chairs and picks up some needlework that she had apparently left from a previous time. A large stack of parchments rest on the desk Lena sits behind. Not knowing exactly what to do I just stand at attention by the door. After a few minutes, Lena sighs deeply.

"Please Kal, I do not believe that a dagger-wielding beggar will burst through the door. Sit down. Read a book if you would like. These reports will take most of the day." I linger at the door until Lena gives me a hard look.

I nod and walk to the books and scan the titles. Despite my ability to write short letters and read commands I still struggle with most words. I see a book on strategy and pull it down then sit next to Lady Jessica. The hours stretch on as I struggle through the book. Most of the words are familiar but it is still slow going. Lena's quill scratches on parchment and Jessica's needle silently weaves through the cloth.

"Reading is not easy for you, is it Kal?" Lena's voice breaks the silence.

"No, my lady. Your brother had one of his pages teach me enough to write and read orders. Now master Winslow is teaching me."

"I keep forgetting that you were not born with such privileges. You handle yourself so well. Almost as if you were born for court.

"Thank you, my lady."

"Kal please, call me Lena in private. We are going to be spending a lot of time together and titles are tiring. Besides, you saw me half-naked last night." I know Lena is teasing but I feel my face flush none the less.

"Yes, my... Lena." She chuckles at my stumble.

We lapse back into a comfortable silence. Eventually, Lady Jessica sends for food. Several servants bring plates of steaming meat and soups. Slowly cooked vegetables and fresh fruit. There is a wedge of hard cheese and fresh bread with a pitcher of a sweet red wine. To my delight, a platter of sweets is brought up also. Jessica takes a little of everything.

"Help yourself Kal. I know you must be hungry." I grin but Lena does not even look up from her work. I pile a plate with food and set the book aside to concentrate on eating and give my brain a rest. I always had to eat a lot of food, I do not know why. That is why I had to learn to hunt and trap because army rations were never enough. I could out eat most of the biggest men in my company.

The sun moves across the sky and I pick at the remaining food. Lena, on the other hand, had hardly touched her plate of fruit and cheese and bread. She had a look of intense concentration as she methodically poured over the reports. At one point I started pacing to avoid losing my mind in the stillness. I glanced over at what Lena was doing and saw she had reports from all over Krypton. Grain invoices, mining reports, troop movements, death tolls. The variety and importance of each one were astounding. I sat again to avoid distracting Lena although I am not sure if she even noticed my restlessness.

Dozing lightly in my chair, I hear Lena's chair scrap backward on the stone floor. Servants had come long before to clear away the plates and platters. they also came and lit the chandelier of candles over our head as the sunset. It was nearing time for supper.

Lena called for her page who seemed to miraculously appear as if knowing she would need him. Which I guess he probably did.

"Take these reports to Queen Lillian," she commands.

The boy awkwardly lifts the large stack and hurries out of the room. He nearly spills the whole pile as he almost runs into James on the way out. James smiles and tousles the boy's hair before stepping out of the way.

"My Lady." James bows to Lena.

"Sir James. What brings you here?" she asks.

"I have come to relieve Sir Kal for the night. Also here is the list of names for you." The last part was directed at me. James hands me a rolled up scroll.

"Thank you, Sir James." I bow my head slightly at him then turn to face the women in the room.

"Good night, Lady Jessica. Good night Your Highness."

"Good night, Sir Kal," they say almost in unison.

As I walk I unroll the scroll. The list is sadly short. How could there be so few trustworthy men in the castle? As I scan the list I realize that most of the names are Donovan's friends. I get to the bottom and stop mid-stride. Jonathan Jones. Apparently, James thought that the boy was ready. He had already hinted several times that he thought John was good. Better than most.

I tuck the scroll away and continue to the guard dining for food. I easily locate the group of men I need. Quickly I grab a slice of bread and wedge of cheese and scarf them down. A small swig of wine from a pitcher to wash it all away. When I approach the men, their conversation falls silent.

"Follow me." Is all I say.

They do. Good, they are willing to follow orders. I lead them to the practice yard. I pick up two blunted swords from the rack of training equipment. I toss one to Donovan, who nimbly catches it from the air.

"I am going to spare with each of you in turn. Ready?" I nod to the young man. He seems unsure but his face grows serious. He raises his sword.

I press hard, trying to see where each man stands in their training. They were good for men who had never seen real combat. But they were too rigid, everything was precise and basic. I could easily flow through their stiff guards. When we were done each man was in various states of weariness. Some still short of breath. To me, however, the battles energized me after a day of nothingness.

"You, sir, are a force of nature." Donavon is still panting slightly.

"But what was all this for?"

I study each man closely. I liked the determination each had fought with. All fought clean and fair, the product of honest men.

"To test you." They look at me questioningly.

"And you all pass. Sir James wanted me to find men to guard the Queen-in-waiting. I choose you."

Grins spread on the men's faces. There are eight of them in all. I send two of them to ready to take over guarding Lena's hall, then talk to the rest.

"We will personally be responsible for protecting the Queen-in-waiting. Only you men will rotate through the guard. For her rooms, for whatever room, she enters, or for her alone. We will guard her every step. I will also teach you to fight like me, like men who have everything to lose. Donovan, Anthony, you will take over guarding the Queen-in-waiting rooms at midnight. Andrew and Conner at dawn. I will send a page with further instructions. Tomorrow right after supper you are to report here. That is when we will train. Dismissed." The men quickly leave the yard but I soon hear laughter from the men who were excited about a new duty in life.

In my own rooms, I use my new soaps to wash the sweat from my body. Then I begin to clean my armor, determined to take good care of the wonderful gift. My eyes grow heavy after two sleepless nights. I re-wrap my chest and dawn a nightshirt and loose cotton pants. I just finished tying them around my waist when someone knocks softly at the door. I am surprised when Lady Jessica's face greets me. She is in her nightdress, sleep glassing her eyes.

"My lady cannot sleep. Every time she tries she sees the man with the knife. My Lady wishes for you to stay in her chambers tonight to help put her mind at ease." I nod.

"Let me put on something more suitable. I will be right over." Jessica turns back to the still open door of Lena's chambers. I put on a comfortable tunic and my boots. I grab my sword and pull the baldric over my head.

When I enter the room, Lena stands staring into the dying flames of the fire. She wears a red nightdress with a matching shawl draped around her shoulders. She does not turn at my entrance so I place a hand on her shoulder.

"My Lady, please go to sleep. That man can no longer hurt you I will stay here all night. Tomorrow I start training your own personal guard of men I and Sir James trust."

"Lena." she sighs.

"Pardon?"

"Please call me Lena. I never get to hear my own name. It makes me feel like less of a person." She looks at me sadly.

"Lena. Sleep. Lady Jessica and I are both here." Lena nods her assent to my plea and climbs into the large bed with Jessica.

I settle into the overstuffed armchair by the fire, sword across my lap. I had already resigned my self to getting very little sleep tonight.

"Will you be here when I wake?"

"I am sorry my... Lena. I have lessons with Lady Catherine before dawn." She nods and lays down. I settle in for a long uncomfortable night.

My days began to blur together. Lessons before dawn, court in the morning, watching Lena and her ladies in the afternoon. After dinner each night I began training with the men. I had to teach them to be able to adapt to battles, not everyone fought with honor and that took a lot of time to break them of that notion. Nearly a fortnight passed before any real change occurred.

Lena's Ladies began preparing for the End of Summer Festival. A week-long celebration that celebrated the start of harvest. Most of the noble families would return to court with their households, most common folk would travel to Kandor from all over Krypton. Tournaments would be held and celebrations would last all night, every night. It would also celebrate the return of Prince Alexander. The army had managed to set up strong defensive lines along our border and Cadmium had drawn back to resupply for winter months. The Prince was using the lull in the fighting to return home.

The bustle of the castle begins to put me on edge. So many new people in and out of the castle. New faces crowd the halls and the old are never where I expect them after I had memorized their routines.

"You know, when you are nervous you fidget with your sword."

"Huh?"

We were in Lena's private study as she checked reports. I was pacing back and forth when Lena spoke and I stopped and turned to her.

"Also you get this cress between your eyes when you are worried. Right here." She points to her own forehead. I roll my eyes.

Still, the comment makes my heart start thudding in my chest. We spent so much time together that I had come to notice all her little habits. How she gets so concentrated that nothing else matters to her. How it breaks her heart to disappoint those she has to deny. She was filled with compassion behind an icy royal exterior. It seemed she had been watching me also.

"I have a right to worry Lena. This castle is full of strangers. All potentially here to kill you."

"Kal, I trust you, and the men you trained. You need to trust them too. Now come here and read this to me."

Lena kept insisting on making me read despite Winn's teaching. Winn had grown on me during our time together. His positivity was endless. He loved the books he cared for and he was a genius at breaking and making the coded messages for the army. We went out nearly every night I was off. It was nice to be able to have a friend to talk to. Somehow Winn managed to introduce me to a new woman every night. I would laugh and talk with them before letting them down easy in the end.

Lena was sending the reports she had finished with the page. Lady Jessica was off overseeing feast preparations. We were alone except for the two guards outside the door.

"So are you competing in the tournaments?" Lena asks as she carefully puts her quill and ink away.

"No, I have no training in such things and wish not to attempt and make a fool of myself."

"Well, there is one you could do. The open brawl. It has almost no rules except not to kill." I consider the suggestion.

"That seems a difficult task, all those men surrounding you and not killing them. But I suppose it would be doable."

"Wonderful, I will have Jessica enter you. Your squire, John, I will make sure he gets everything you need." She says energetically.

"Lena, why is this so important to you? she sighs.

"Because whatever brute wins is rewarded with the place of honor next to me each night of the festival. Which means I am then obligated to speak with them or dance with them if they ask." I chuckle softly.

"So I am a brute now, am I?" We had long since lost the pretense of hiding our emotions and we actually teased each other in private. It was a banter that seems to flow easily between us.

"No! Of course not. You are the person I would much rather celebrate with because it would be a celebration instead of me dreading every minute."

"There is no guarantee I will win." I point out.

"I believe you will. That is enough." She says it so seriously that I almost cannot respond.

"Anything for my future Queen."

Lena rests her hand on mine. The contact surprises me when I realize we are both leaning forward on opposite sides of the desk. I clear my throat and take my hand back by adjusting the baldric again.

"Where to now, my Lady?" Intentionally not saying her name to break whatever spell had fallen over us. Her eyes darken slightly but she says nothing about me pulling away.

"Now we go to welcome my brother home."

After the very long formal Ceremony that was basically a big parade of mummers dancing, men marching, and women being put on display for the prince. The prince then takes his place on a throne next to his mother and sister. The ceremony dissolves into a feast that is more drink than food. When relieved of my post next to Lena I find Winn where we agreed to meet to head into the city. Our favorite tavern was The Kryptonite.

The food was great and the ale was sweet. Winn and I talked in a corner. Somehow Winn always knew the latest gossip. I had a feeling he read things he should not have but it kept me informed of the goings on in the castle so I did not complain. After several hours we begin the long walk up to the castle.

"I have something you may like in my room. Its a book on different herbal remedies I acquired from a healer. I have it memorized now so I do not need it anymore." At least I am pretty sure that is what I said. Winn was talking about how he wanted to learn about healing techniques. The ale was making my mouth feel like it was a little behind my thoughts.

"That would be a-maz-ing." He grins and stumbles slightly when he looks at me.

That puts us both in a fit of laughter before we resume the walk. It seems to take forever in the alcohol-induced haze but we finally make it all the way to my room. The guard's eye Winn but let him pass. When we are in my room I dig through the chest at the foot of my bed for the book.

"Here it is. Of course, it was at the bottom." I stand and turn back to Winn. He is standing closer than I thought and I give myself a shake. Maybe I drank more than I thought.

"Thanks, Kal." Winn's voice is kind of high like he was nervous.

He grasps the book but does not take it from me. I feel my head cock to the side in a question. Winn lurches forward and his lips clumsily meet mine. I jerk back and push him at the same time. Winn sprawls on the ground.

"Oh Rao, Winn I am sorry. I did not mean to push you so hard."

"So you aren't into me. Rao what have I done." Winn scrambles to his feet and tries to leave, but I step in front of him.

"Wait, Winn."

"It's fine Kal. Either you're gay or you're not. You obviously are not and I just ruined our friendship."

"No, it is not like that. I am but not in the way you think."

"What is that supposed to mean!" He is angry and hurt and it is plain on his face.

"I...I can't tell you."

"Whatever Kal. Move. I want to leave." I know if he leaves nothing will be the same and I will lose my only friend. I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate what I am about to do.

"Winn, can I trust you?"

"What?" He nearly spits the question.

"If I tell you why I need to know that I can trust you. With my life. Because if you tell anyone it will mean I will lose my life." Winn's face slowly moves from anger to deep thought and then softens back into the gentleman I know.

"Yes, Kal. You can trust me." His slow response shows that he really did consider his answer and I know it is true.

"I...I am not who you think I am."

"Kal, just say whatever it is. I am way too drunk for obscure words." I sigh.

"Winn, my real name is Kara. I am a woman." I believe every emotion possible plays across Winn's face as he processes what I said. Then he laughs.

"Wow, oh Rao, you almost had me there. That was so out there I almost believed you. This has to be the strangest way someone has turned me down."

"Winn," I say seriously to get his attention. I take one of his hands and press it against my chest. I know my breast were never large but they were still there. I see Winn's eyes widen at the soft mound under his palm.

"Kal... Kara. Oh, this is fantastic. It explains so much too. No wonder you turned down nearly every woman I through at you. No wonder you were not attracted to me. Wait, no, why aren't you attracted to me?" I grin at his rambling and at the way he is waving his arms about.

"Really Winn? That is your first question?"

"Wait you said you were gay, just not the way I thought. Who then?" I blush and look down, Lena's face flashes across my vision.

"Kara no! The Queen-in-waiting?"

"Yes," I say in a small voice.

"Oh jeez, Kara."

"Well Winn, now you know my two biggest secrets."

"Oh Roa, this isn't like an 'I know too much and I have to die now' situation is it?" I laugh.

"No Winn. This is a 'you have to be my friend forever' situation."

"Oh, wonderful. Now you know my biggest secret too. Same sex relationships are very frowned upon."

"I know. Which is also why Lena should never know my feelings. Or my secrete. I have lied to the crown and that is treason."

"I understand Kara. But hey, you won't have to hide with me."

"That will be great Winn. I'll see you tomorrow." I finally step out of his way because somehow I know everything will be okay.

Winn pulls me into a tight hug and I stiffen at first. No one has hugged me since my mother died. Slowly I wrap my arms around him also.

"Goodnight, Kara."

"Kal. Just call me Kal. It is safer that way." Winn nods before leaving. I lock my door and fall into bed. I feel like a great burden is lessened a bit. Not that someone was taking it from me, but Winn was helping me hold it up.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #KoK #knight #au #medeival

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