#...keep in touch more; instead of walling myself off as i am prone to doing. and in any case; now is as good a time as any.

[pysoch]

More medic projection writing I am a raging inferno and winter is my fuel

~========~

I am unhappy.

There is a calendar above my door with a small red 'x', still reeking of alcoholic scent and prone to smearing. It lays drying along the number reading twelve. Above it is an ordeal of characters illustrated in a ridiculous situation with the year, 1958, off by five years. I know this because it is not Thursday as that twelve reads. Alas, I made do with the poor supplies I was given. It serves as a good distraction above my tattered cot that ought to have been replaced many seasons ago. In fact, it's the only thing I can keep my eyes on at this time of night.

I hear others through the thin wood walls throwing around a light atmosphere with one another. I'm well aware it is self sabotage to not lift myself up and throw myself in the midst of them and instead sit in a dark, dirty closet only able to fit myself if I scrunch up my knees just enough to where it's uncomfortable. Through the thin and cobweb-lined window I can see the outside brings fresh snow that will cover each bullet fired today and melt in spring to unearth them. Nature had a cycle like I do, which was a comforting tune to fade into. Both of us hide the ugly of our fall under layers of white. Fortunately, I'm not as easy to melt. It took very few times before I had taught himself comrades were temporary and family was burden. The one time I had gotten myself wrapped up in such things as relationships on this team ended in a horrific disaster of my mentality switching between euphoric pages and flipping to chapters of social dysphoria with internal loneliness. No matter how much I threw himself at opportunities to break down this little cage I fashioned myself in, there was no interception. I had given up once and for all.

Even doves brought no companionship anymore. A dear, tender place in my heart is reserved for those gorgeous breathing treasures. Yet they cannot talk to me. They cannot comfort me. I cannot feel a loving wing wrap around my back and tell me I am loved. What a twisted little thing that is. I've imagined that exact scenario more than there are veins in my wrist and yet it disgusts me like no poison can. Even now, my nose scrunches in disdain at such a foolish thought as affection. I'd be a liar if I were not to mention how this was tailored, too. It's a vicious turn of desiring such companionship and touch then being a snarling savage at the first cautious reach of a hand.

Yes, an animal describes it quite well. I must not bring myself to that metaphor again. Each hint of wild thought such as freeing myself of mankind and running through earth under my bare skin is almost an escape in itself. I always drift to being like a wolf, ears pinned and eyes narrowed while my tail makes waves in the wind and my paws scratch the ground with callused flesh. Near the end of my travels a crack splits the sky and fires through my skull until I'm a panting, miserable beast on this cold and unforgiving soil as the men who struck the clouds come to catch their prize. What joy it is to be praised like that! A worthy creature for taxidermy, or surely study! Yet when they sling me over their shoulders and throw me in a pit of rotting foxes, I know that it was only a dream. Such a fantasy is better kept deep within me, yes, yes. So is that far buried desire for death.

It all wraps back to what I crave like a starving man. Importance. I could have medallion after medallion tacked on my wall with silver nails and I'd still long to be strung up instead. Not a pleasant thing to most but to me, oh, what a blissful thought. Autopsies are envied by my cold eyes and unable to be executed by my hands. I become lost in the idea of our roles being turned and my own corpse having fingers pressed into it at every angle, admiring that I used to be a beating soul who strained each function of my weary vessel until they all collapsed. My body could be severed into pieces unidentifiable by man, yet if one person were to pick up the piece and let a flash of a memory dart their mind, I'd find my death a significant victory.

Death is as fleeting as life and just as permanent. That's what is brought to me when I hear a thud against the wall and feel a faint vibration in my head followed by the freshly post-pubescent voice laughing beyond reach. My paws stop running along those leaves, and they pause to hear that crack. None occur. Only the drift of that calendar page flitting up and down is heard, and the twelve now solidified in ink. My ears are still perked for the fire to reign through my skull, but the more I sit and wait, the less likely are the gamesmen to see me or raise their instruments against my flesh. I turn around and trudge quietly through the path where I came. Perhaps tonight death is not my savior, but my study. That bullet doesn't quite have the lead loaded deep in the chamber. I am alive.

And I am unhappy.

~=======~

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

[luminousophie]

Hm. I might post here, again.

[betweentheracks]

Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

[bobathirstaccount]

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut (tomfoolery starts end of ch 2 & sex starts in ch 3, I gotchu), some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

TW: unprotected sex, violence (someone gets beat up semi-graphically.. nothing too bad)

Translations (Mando’a)

Hu’tuun - coward (deep insult)

Cyar’ika - sweetheart/ darling

Mesh’la - beautiful

****

CHAPTER SIX

“Finally, she’s awake,” you heard a male voice say.

“Okay, let’s do this,” another one replied.

You looked up, bleary eyed. The back of your head ached.

“Where is he, girl?”

You stared at them.

“Fett, Boba Fett,” the man clarified. You started to laugh. This angered the men and one of them backhanded you, splitting your lip open. For good measure, he also gave you a black eye. “Now let’s try this again. Where’s Fett?”

You laughed again, spitting blood at their feet. “He’s gonna kill you.”

The man who’d beat you grabbed you by the hair and lifted your head up painfully, “Bitch we are the ones in this room with you right now, not him.” He backed off a bit, “Plus he’s just your fucking employer. Give it up.”

You remained silent. It earned you another punch to the face and a kick to the gut. You groaned but didn’t speak.

The men were getting impatient. One of them grabbed a pair of tweezers. “Guess where these are gonna go?” He asked with a nasty expression. You just stared at him, blood dripping down your swollen face. “This is on you, girlie. It’s a shame, you’re a cutie. You won’t be after this.” A flash bang went off, stunning all three of you.

When you recovered you were in a prone position, your bonds cut. You became aware of voices. “... now is there anything else you need to tell me?” That was Boba.
“No, no please! That’s all I know. He just hired us to attack Slave 1 and kill you!”

“But yet you were torturing a woman instead. Hu’tuun,” he seethed. Boba slapped him across the face with his armored wrist. The man spit a tooth out and continued to plead. You looked for the other one and found him slumped against the wall. He seemed dead. You directed your attention to your shoulder, which was starting to throb. You gingerly touched it, which made you whimper.


Boba heard you and turned around, still furious. He walked over to you and knelt, “How are you?”

“Shot.”

He tilted his helmet slightly, “Among other things.” He smoothed your hair back from your face, studying you.

“Please, pl.. pl... -“ Boba shot him without turning his head.

“Let’s go home, cyar’ika.” You nodded and tried to stand. You couldn’t. Boba lifted you to your feet. “Can you walk?” You nodded. You walked outside, leaning against Boba, to see the Slave 1 not far away. You breathed a sigh of relief.

***

Once back onboard, Boba put the ship into jump space. He turned to you immediately, “I’ll get the med pack.” He proceeded to patch you up, using a level of gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. Once you were bandaged up, he sat back. “I should not have put you in danger like that, using my ship without myself present.”

You shook your head, “Part of the job.” He looked at you for a moment, “It will not happen again. If they knew who you were, who knows what could have happened.” He placed a strong hand on your knee. You looked quizzically at him, “Who am I?”

“Someone who is... important to me.” He straightened.

The pain killer was kicking in, “Ayy calls us fuck buddies.”

He laughed. “I should have had this descriptor when Fennec asked me.” You were stunned, “What?”

“She asked in so many words.” You swallowed thickly. “Are you embarrassed?” His helmet tilted.

“No! I just,” you stumbled over your words, “I just don’t know what it says about me.”

He tilted his head the other way, confused.

“I worked hard to get where I am. Now it looks like favoritism.”

He shook his head, “Fennec doesn’t feel that way, and aside from myself she’s really the only person that matters.”

You thought about all the other mercs, gossiping, judging. You shrugged. They were already doing it anyway. The male mercs were unforgiving to any female that tried to weasel their way into prominence in this quadrant. “I guess.”

“What does that mean?” He sounded gruff.

You grabbed the hand that was on your knee and squeezed. “Nothing. I want to be around you and I don’t care who knows.”

He nodded.

***

Ayy and the other dancers babied you, ferrying food and other goods from the palace to your ship. You had elected to recover in Daesha. It felt the safest there. Boba came to visit you nearly every day, frequently running into the dancers. They said nothing, but started giving you heavy knowing looks. It annoyed you.

Finally you were well enough to appear at court. You reappeared on Boba’s left side, an elevated position. No one said anything, but there were looks in your direction from the other mercs. You held your head high. Some people even started to try to curry favor with you. You felt an inkling of power forming. It was strange. You mentioned it to Boba as you laid in bed one night.

“Of course. You can do something for them.”

You walked your fingers across his bare chest, “I don’t like it.”

“That’s a good sign.”

You sighed, “Well I still don’t like it.” He pulled you close. “Get used to it.” He rubbed your hip with his rough hand. “You will get the hang of it. Wielding power is surprisingly easy.” It felt surreal to be told such a thing by Boba Fett.

You were beginning to distinguish two modes: the Great Fett and Boba. Boba was hard to come by, but could be wonderfully soft. Fett wasn’t bad either, but was harder to read and more mischievous. Tonight he was Boba, and so you felt emboldened.

“Boba, what do you want for us?” You asked brazenly.

“Mmm, more of the same. Why? Are you still happy with our arrangement?”

“Yes... I just... like you.”

He snorted. “The list of people who can say that is very short.” You sighed. You had tried to express yourself but done a terrible job. It was probably for the best. Quiet settled over the two of you.

“I am... fond of you.”

You had almost fallen asleep, but your eyelids shot up at this. You wrapped an arm around his torso. “Really?”

”Don’t get emotional.”

You snorted, but bit back some tears.

“I am not your boyfriend.”

You laughed at the thought of someone calling him that. “Of course not. Boba Fett someone’s boyfriend? It just sounds wrong.” He turned his head to rest his chin on the crown of your head. “You are an enigma.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. He shifted his weight then, and seemed to settle down into sleep. You closed your eyes.

When you woke you were alone. Of course. You stretched and yawned, rolling over. Fett’s armor was still on the side table where he left it for night time. You sat up, looking around the room. It was empty. You tried to figure out what this could mean. He walked out of your fresher with a towel around his waist. He saw you sitting up, “Showered.”

You nodded. He dropped the towel and got into bed. “Come here, mesh’la.” You snuggled into him, enjoying the closeness. His hand ran down your spine, to the small of your back, giving you shivers. You looked up at him adoringly. He stared down at you with a soft, but unreadable expression. Suddenly he cupped your cheek in a large hand and drew you into a chaste kiss. It was shocking but welcome. You kissed back until he pulled away, dark eyes watching you.

You ran your hand over the scar that crossed his face. He sighed gently. You tested and kissed him again. He allowed it but didn’t let you deepen it. When you pulled away, he smiled softly, the sharpness in his eyes diminishing further. He ran a hand down your side, stopping to cup your curves until he reached your ass. You felt yourself growing wet and needy. He grabbed your ass and rolled over, pulling you on top of him. You sat up, straddling him above his hips. You scooted down, pushing down on his chest to do so. His skin was warm and uneven. You thought about him in the Sarlacc, being eaten alive. You pushed the thought away.

You arrived over his cock. You rubbed your already wet pussy against him, feeling him harden beneath you. When he was hard, you directed him into yourself and started to grind, feeling his cock move in your pussy. He watched you as you moved, bringing a hand to cup one of your breasts. You started to slowly bounce up and down on his shaft. He squeezed your tit, making you sigh dreamily. You became urgent, your need to cum becoming overpowering. You felt the overwhelming sensation growing in your pussy.

The feeling of his cock stretching you was almost too much. He grabbed both of your hips and started to fuck up into you, sharp powerful strokes. You hand went to your clit, rubbing frantic circles. You closed your eyes and your mouth fell open slightly. Boba grinned, enjoying the show. You came hard, breathing his name over and over as your pussy fluttered around him. He flipped you over before you could recover and started to fuck you in short strokes. You spread your legs for him, moaning from your orgasm. He slowed down slightly to your confusion. It still felt good, but it was very different sex than you normally had with him. He continued to fuck you almost gently, his head buried in your shoulder. “Baby, you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask.

”Yes cyar’ika,” he replied huskily. You rubbed his uneven back with your hands. “Why do you call me that?” You had never asked but often wondered.

“Because you are,” he said into your neck.

“I’m... sweetheart?”

There was a pause in the conversation as he fucked you. “Yes.”

You quieted your mind then and decided to stop asking questions. Instead you said, “Cum in my pussy, baby.” He picked up the pace slightly, keeping his face buried. You wrapped yourself around him, purring. His thrusts became erratic and you could feel him panting into your neck. You decided to try to outdo yourself, “Mmm, cyar’ika you feel so good.” He came then, stiffening and groaning into your hair. He stayed like that for a moment, then rolled off you. You turned on your side and nuzzled into him again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called cyar’ika before.” You smiled. Then you remembered something. “Boba, those ...Mandalorians... why do you have their armor if you aren’t also Mandalorian?”

“The armor... was my father’s.” His tone let you know you were treading on thin ice.

“Was he Mandalorian?” You pressed forward, pushing the edges of your boundary.

“It’s complicated, ad’ika.”

You waited for him to translate. “Hey, you promised to translate new words.”

“Little one.” You looked up at him at this.

He sighed. “I should get up.” He didn’t move.

“Not yet. Stay for awhile with me.”

“Why?”

“Because this is nice.”

He laid with you awhile longer before getting up.

[notalwaysthevillian]

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.7k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 8: Time for a Rescue

The four of us were able to hit our targets with ease, since most of them were still groggy from being flesh balls.

“That was so gross.” I said as we headed to the ante room. “I know we might work with these people eventually, but if I can avoid him I’ll be that much happier.”

“You weren’t the one who was manhandled.” Kirishima shivered. “I never want to go through that again.”

“Shut up! Let’s just get back.”

Walking faster, I matched Bakugo’s pace. We walked in silence for a second before he broke.

“What?”

I didn’t look at him. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That it was too dry.” I saw him tense up out of the corner of my eye. “You wanted me to come with you because you knew I’d have trouble. If I stayed with the others I would’ve been taken out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grumbled, but it was half-hearted.

Nodding, I slowed to walk with Kami again, but not before whispering a quick “thanks”. There was a quiet grunt as a response, which I figured was the best I was going to get out of Bakugo.

“What was that about?” Kami asked as he claimed my hand.

“Nothing.”

He gave me a look. “You talked to Bakugo without him yelling or exploding something. How did you survive?”

“SHUT UP!”

The speaker crackled to life again. “Our total is at 82.”

Kami squeezed my hand. “Do you think our classmates have passed already?”

“I hope so. Todoroki probably did already, I saw his ice wall earlier.”

I could see explosions and dust flying around at the far end of the arena.

“Wow, everyone is going crazy.”

“Hey, look!” Kaminari pointed. I saw Midoriya, Uraraka, and Sero walking up to the ante room too. “Aw, yeah! Class A represent!”

Uraraka grinned. “You know it! Our class is amazing! We did it!”

“Class 1-A!” Kirishima started chanting, and most of the rest of us joined in.

“I’m glad you passed!” I threw my arms around Uraraka. “What happened to everyone else? I thought you were staying together?”

“Remember that boy that was super nice when we first got here? He has a quirk that lets him break up the ground! We all got separated!”

“I’m lucky I stuck with these guys then.” I gestured to Kirishima and Kaminari on either side of me. “The air is too dry in here, and we weren’t close enough to the water area for me to borrow any. I was pretty much useless.”

“Hey, that’s not true!” Kiri protested. “You helped Kaminari get us out of there.”

“Bug did most of the work.”

Kaminari kissed my cheek. “That time, but I’m sure you’re gonna be the one taking the lead in the future. We’ll just stick closer to the water next time.”

We headed into the ante room, spotting Todoroki, Shoji, Tsu, Jirou, and Yaoyorozu hovering around. Yaoyorozu looked relieved as we all walked in, munching on some dumplings.

“Oh hey! What a relief. I was starting to get worried.”

“No need to worry about us, Yao-Momo!” Kaminari led me over to them. “What’s up? When did you guys pass?”

“Yeah, have you guys been here for long?”

Shoji shook his head. “We just finished as well. Todoroki beat us here.”

“Honestly I was kind of shocked Bakugo wasn’t here already.” Jirou said as she joined us. “But I get it now. It’s because Kaminari was with him.”

“Come on! Why am I getting dragged today?!”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “If anyone was the weak link on that team it was me today. I probably should’ve gone for the water zone.”

“You would’ve been taken out before you got there.” Bakugo huffed, rolling his shoulders back. “Doesn’t matter anyway, we passed.”

“You don’t think that was it, do you?” Yaoyorozu finished off another dumpling. “It seems awfully easy to just outlast people. There’s more to being a hero than that.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna be the hero that saves people. My sidekicks can deal with cleaning up.”

Bakugo walked off toward the food, Kirishima on his heels.

“He actually seems less grouchy today.” I said, earning looks from everyone else. “He won’t admit it but if he hadn’t told me to stay with him, I would’ve probably been tagged out. He pretty much saved me today.”

Kaminari slung his arm around my shoulders. “When did he tell you that?”

“Before, when Shindo was being overly nice.”

“Overly nice?”

“Did you think he was that nice?” Everyone nodded at me. “Bakugo was right, the look in his eye didn’t match what he was saying. His vibes were all off.”

“You can’t always judge someone on vibes alone.” Shoji manifested another arm, grabbing some food from the table.

“I know, but we weren’t wrong.”

“Hey,” Uraraka walked up with a key. “Tsu told me they want us to put the targets back on the shelf. You need help taking them off?”

“I’ve got it.” Kaminari took the key and unlocked the one on my back, his fingers brushing against my hip.

“Hey! Watch your hands.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m just undoing your targe - OW!”

Jirou’s earphone jack recoiled back to her ear and she winked.

Once my targets were off, Kaminari handed me the key. “Now you do me.”

“Phrasing, Bug.” I giggled, quickly taking his targets off.

He pecked me on the forehead. “I know what I said.”

“Gross.”

Laughing at Jirou’s reaction, I grabbed our targets and headed over to put them away, leaving Kami to be told off by her.

“Your boyfriend is cute.” A girl in a Shiketsu uniform was leaning against the wall. She gave me a smile, but it felt more crazy than sweet. “Not as cute as the green-haired boy over there though.”

“Thanks?” I placed the targets on the shelf, before putting the key back on its hook. “What’s your na - oh.”

As I turned back around, she was gone.

“Weird.”

The boy from before, Yoarashi, waved and walked over. “I heard that Class A had someone join after the sports festival. I didn’t see you there, so I have to assume…”

“Yep! That’s me.” I pointed to myself with both thumbs, before laughing. “Guess my boyfriend’s dorkiness is rubbing off on me.”

“When you spend a lot of time with people, you adopt their mannerisms!” He laughed a hearty laugh. “I was curious as to what your quirk is.”

“You have to tell me yours first.”

“That is only fair!” When he spoke, it was loud. “My quirk is Whirlwind. It allows me to control air currents.”

The air around us picked up speed, blowing my hair back.

“Cool!” I activated my quirk, drawing the water out of my belt. “Mine is…I guess Whirlpool? I can control water! If it’s not too dry out I can pull the water from the air, or if there’s water nearby I can use it.”

“A powerful quirk! Your parents must be proud!”

I knew he hadn’t meant anything by it, but I could feel the water whip around my legs as the memories started to come back again. “I’m sure they would be if they were still around.”

He bowed, his head touching the ground again. “My apologies!”

Everyone started looking at us. I threw my hands up, waving them. “It’s okay, really.”

An alarm went off, rescuing me from this conversation. I knew he meant well, but I really didn’t want to continue.

“The last students pass! Every slot is now filled! One hundred students will advance! The end is finally here! Wah-hoo!”

“That’s the most excited I’ve heard that guy all day.” Kami said as he came over and pulled me back towards our classmates.

“Our whole class passed! I’m so excited!” Uraraka cheered, jumping up and down.

I cheered with her. “We did it!!”

It took about 15 minutes for everyone to regather. I felt a little bad for the people who had to withdraw, but that was the nature of the test I guess.

“For the hundred of you who passed the first test, please turn your attention toward the screen.”

I looked up, seeing live footage of the test arena. It was quiet for a moment before explosions rocked the arena, causing multiple collapses in different areas.

“There’s only one more round to the exam. Your goal is simple: undertake rescue exercises and save the bystanders who are trapped in these disaster sites.”

“Rescue exercises?” I bounced on my toes, feeling the smile spread across my face. “This is what I was trained for!”

“Use this time to show us how you will carry out successful rescue procedures once you receive your provisional licenses.Treat this as though it was the real thing.”

The screen shifted, showing the people we had to rescue. There were some elderly, and some young.

“That’s so dangerous! Why are they here?”

“Little kids are prone to ignoring their parents and running toward heroes.” I pointed out, remembering what the Pussycats had taught me. “The elderly are often caught in the crossfire, due to the fact that they usually can’t move as fast.”

“…We’ll be judging on how well you keep them safe as you go about your mission. Oh, by the way, we’ll be scoring you on a point system. If you have more points than the benchmark at the time the exercise comes to an end, then you pass the exam. We’ll start in ten minutes. Take care of any necessary preparations now.”

I turned around only to find that all of my classmates had decided to talk to each other instead. “Okay, so I guess I’m the one making a plan.”

“Guess so.”

Turning around, I found Shindo standing there. “Look, I know you caught on to my nice act earlier too. But it’s a rescue mission, and we’re going to have to work together.”

“Agreed.” I gave him a nod. “I did a lot of rescue work with the Pussycats growing up. My quirk is well suited to search and rescue, especially if there are any broken bones.”

“Well I doubt that’ll be an issue, but good to know. We can get a first aid station set up straight away. Can you get your class to help with the search portion?”

“I’ll talk to them.”

He walked away without another word. I headed back to my classmates, seeing Mineta and Kami yelling at Midoriya about something.

I caught the word “naked” as I got closer, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Kaminari.”

He froze, a hand immediately going to the back of his neck. “Dew Drop!”

“What’s going on?”

“N-nothing! We’re just talking to Midoriya!”

I glanced at Mineta, activating my quirk and locking him against the wall with a wave. “Mineta.”

“Midoriya saw a girl naked!”

I dropped the water. “That’s what you guys are worried about right now? We’re supposed to be planning for a rescue mission!”

“We get people, we get out. It’s easy.” Mineta waved a hand in the air. “This is juicier.”

He walked off, leaving a nervous Kaminari by my side. “Are you mad?”

“You’re a teenage boy, I’m not mad.” I rolled my eyes. “But can we focus on rescue? I’m actually good at this, I can get us to pass. I - I want to make up for not helping as much in the first round.”

“Nami, you did what you could.” Kaminari pulled me into his arms, nuzzling the top of my head. “You can’t be the superstar every time. Unless you’re Bakugo.”

I giggled into his shirt, relaxing as his familiar supercharged scent surrounded me. “You’re right.”

A bell rang, making the two of us jump.

“Shit, I was supposed to -”

“Villains have performed a large-scale terrorist attack slanning all of Insert City Name Here. Since most buildings have collapsed, there are many injured.”

The walls around us broke apart and opened up, just like the start of our test.

“Due to heavily damaged roads, the first responders have unfortunately been delayed for the time being.”

“What is with these rooms?”

“Until emergency services arrive, the heroes in the area will lead the rescue efforts. Your task is to save as many people as you can and help the injured. And with that…BEGIN!”

“You three! With me!” Bakugo yelled before taking off.

I shook my head, staying with our classmates. Kaminari looked torn.

“Bug, go with him, it’s fine.”

He took off, splitting from our group.

Iida headed for the collapsed buildings, leading our little pack. “Let’s start by heading toward the closest urban area.”

Taking a deep breath, I threw up a water wall in front of them, making my classmates stop and turn back to me.

“Look. I’m the only one here trained in rescue.” I said before anyone could protest. “Let me give you some pointers?”

“Bestow your knowledge on us!” Iida stopped running, giving me his full attention.

“We will need to split up, that isn’t even a question. We go where we will be the most useful. For me and Tsu, that means the water terrain. Anyone else think they’ll be the best there?”

Todoroki raised his hand, and Hagakure’s glove went up.

I nodded. “Okay. Those of you who will do better in the urban area can stay here. Make sure you move people slowly until you can determine their injuries. Some you might not want to move at all, if they’re that injured. Yao-Momo, I’d recommend you stay here.”

“Got it.”

“And stay alert. Usually when there’s an earthquake, there’s aftershocks. There could be falling debris, or more explosions even. Keep sharp. Water team, follow me.”

The four of us split off, heading toward the river and the lake.

“Guys! Over there!”

A few people were clinging to rocks in the water. One boy looked terrified. “Help! I can’t swim!”

“Tsu, could you get him? I'd probably terrify him.” I activated my quirk, the water pulling the other people toward shore, keeping them elevated.

“We might need to warm them up. We should get firewood.” Todoroki said.

“On it!” Hagakure ran off in another direction.

Tsu swam out, putting the boy on her back and coming back to shore.

“Everything is going to be alright. We’re here to help you in any way we can.” I explained as we gathered them up. “Our friends went looking for firewood so we can get you guys warm. Is anyone injured?”

A few hands went up.

“Those of you uninjured, if you could separate from those that are injured. Tsu is going to talk to you and see what you remember.” I leaned over to her. “Do you know how to tell if someone has a concussion?”

“Ribbit. Yes.”

“Good. Look for those. There’s a chance someone has one and doesn’t know.”

She split off, and I headed toward the injured group. There weren’t too many people, only a small group of three.

“Who’s hurt the worst? Any broken bones? Does it hurt to breathe?” I asked, gently washing off what I hoped was fake blood with my quirk.

One of them raised a hand. “Breathing isn’t easy right now.”

“We’re going to get you to the first aid station right now. Are the other two of you okay to walk?”

They nodded.

“Tsu!” She looked up at me. “I’m taking them to the first aid station. I’ll be back once they’re secure!”

“Ribbit!”

I moved water around the person having trouble breathing, floating him in a pool of water as we moved. “We’ll get you all help. What are your names?”

“You’re very good at this, young lady.” One woman said, after they’d all given me names.

I blushed. “Just doing my job. I learned from the Wild, Wild Pussycats.”

“Then they’re excellent teachers.”

We reached the first aid station just as Midoriya came running up with a kid. I got them all settled with the other class, nodding at Shindo, who gave me a nod back. He gestured to someone else, who ran up and helped me out with the one who was having trouble breathing.

“Potentially cracked ribs.” I whispered.

We got them settled in the area and things seemed to be going well.

BOOM!

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 11]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters 1 & 2 are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2

I was going to do the bingo fic, today but I haven’t been feeling 100% so didn’t start it in the morning. I kinda wanted to work on this one instead so I’m going to. :)

Chapter 3

The figure whose head Patton had just slammed a cookie sheet over tottered forward and fell to the floor; the knife fell limply from its hand onto the floor. Patton immediately stepped forward to kick the weapon away towards Logan. Logan stepped forward to grab it and stored it away quickly at the bottom of the chest at the foot of his bed.

He looked back up at Patton. “T-thank you,” he said.

“Um-huh,” Patton replied, still looking down at the fallen figure. It did not seem like it’d be getting up anytime soon. He slowly lowered the cookie sheet.

He cautiously knelt down next to the person.

“Patton, what are you doing?” Logan asked.

“I just want to see,” Patton said. He carefully shoved the figure over to its back so he could peer at his face. It was a young boy with a pale face and kinda squiggly dark hair that framed his face unevenly. “Oh,” Patton said softly. “He’s just a baby.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan asked.

“He’s like 12,” Patton said with a frown. “Maybe 13.”

“He also had a knife,” Logan stressed, but he did move closer to get a better look at him. “We should call the guards.”

“But...”

“No, Patton,” Logan said firmly.

“Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding?” Patton tried.

“A misunderstanding?” Logan scoffed. “What? Did he accidently sneak past the guards into the royal family’s private hallway and come into my bedroom in the middle of the night with a knife?”

Patton looked down at the kid. “Well…”

“He’s clearly an assassin,” Logan said. “We need to call the guards so they can deal with him appropriately.”

“Can we at least wait until he wakes up?” Patton said. “I want to talk to him. Maybe…”

“He’s not a feral cat you can tame.”

Patton bit his lip and looked up at Logan about to do something sorta mean. “But aren’t you curious?” Patton beseeched. “He’s so young. Who would have sent him? Who would have trained him if he’s really an assassin? How’d he get past the guards? Don’t you want to know? They probably wouldn’t tell you if we let the guards take him away.”

Patton could see Logan’s resolve breaking. He was weak to his own curiosity and whoever this kid was, was a curiosity. He sighed. “We’ll have to check him for any weapons before he wakes up, and we’ll have to restrain him.” Patton beamed up at him. “We’ll call the guards and tell Father as soon as we’re done or at the first sign of trouble.”

“Sure,” Patton readily agreed.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Watch him closely for a couple of seconds.” He ducked through the door to his little work area and then ran back with a corked bottle. “May I borrow your bracelets?”

“Sure. Why?” Patton asked, already working them off his own wrists.

“This is a binding potion,” Logan explained, taking the bracelets and pouring a couple of drops carefully on them. “It keeps people locked in place. It’s rather strong though and if I applied it directly on his skin, it’d hurt him and be hard to take off. This way, the bracelets will just act like magical cuffs. They’ll hold his arms in place wherever we need them to be.” He waited for a moment and then tapped his own finger to where he’d applied the potion. “It’s dry” he said. “Help me get these on him.” Patton nodded and grabbed the boy’s thin wrists in his, pulling back the dark sleeves so Logan could snap the brackets on him. Then, Logan grabbed both of his hands and moved them above his head, so they laid against the ground. Patton shifted him around, so he was laying prone. “Okay, now we should make sure he doesn’t have any other weapons on him.”

Patton nodded and they both started awkwardly patting at his clothing, feeling for anything that could be a weapon. “He’s really skinny,” Patton said while his hands brushed across his rib cage.

“Strange,” Logan said. “You would think one would keep one’s assassins well fed.”

“And older,” Patton pointed out.

“It’ll be another question for when he wakes,” Logan said. “He doesn’t seem to have any other weapons on him.”

“Let’s get him sat up,” Patton suggested, “so he’s easier to talk to.”

Logan nodded, and they worked on pulling him into a sitting position against the wall. The boy made a slight sound at being moved and Logan met his eyes. They quickly finished setting him up and settled his hands next to him on the ground to pin them there.

Then, they both stood back to watch. The boy shifted a bit more and then sucked in a sudden breath. He went tense all over the second before his eyes opened. His head lifted to look at them with absolutely terrified eyes. Logan shifted beside him, clearly about to speak, but Patton’s hand struck out to grab Logan’s shoulder. Logan glanced at him and then stood back.

Patton moved forward to kneel in front of him. “Hey there,” he said with a slight smile. The boy seemed to try to curl away from him into the wall. Strangely, he didn’t seem to even attempt to pull against his restraints.

 “What’s your name?” Patton asked. He paused but the boy didn’t respond. He just stared at him with scared eyes. “My name’s Patton,” he offered, “and that’s Logan.” The boy glanced at Logan, and then looked away, staring down at his lap. Patton waited, but he didn’t move. Eventually, Patton tilted his head so he could get a look at his face. “Oh, honey,” Patton said. “Are you crying?” Patton reached out to touch his cheek and he flinched back with a sharp inhale but there wasn’t very far for him to go. “Hey, it’s okay,” Patton soothed. He gently wiped away a few of the tears that had fallen onto his cheeks. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy did not respond, and Patton settled back on his knees with a frown. He glanced at Logan who shrugged. Patton bit his lip in thought for a moment. They weren’t going to be able to speak to him until he calmed down. How could Patton calm him down? Patton’s eyes skirted around the room. The book Logan was reading? No. One of the old fancy crowns they’d borrowed from Thomathy? No. Cookies?

“Are you hungry?” Patton asked the boy. He didn’t confirm verbally, but his head did tilt up in interest. “We have some cookies,” Patton said. He stood, perhaps too quickly because he cowered into the wall as though he expected Patton to lunge at him. Patton smiled apologetically and walked over to the plate they’d luckily stacked the leftover cookies on before Patton had used the cookie sheet for different purposes.

With a smile, he selected a mint chocolate chip cookie from the plate and walked back over to the boy. He was slower this time with his movements, but the kiddo still tracked him carefully with his eyes as he knelt back in front of him. “Here,” Patton offered. “Try this one. It’s my favorite.”

The boy didn’t open his mouth. In fact, he pressed his lips even harder together.

“Come on,” Patton tempted. “They’re really good. It’s my mama’s own recipe and she made them herself. She’s one of the only two people who know how to make them perfect.”

Patton glanced over at Logan and smiled. He got a glare back in return. Patton leaned forward slightly like he was telling the boy a secret. “Logan’s the other person who knows how to make them,” he divulged. “When I was six, my mama got sick for a few days and I was really sad. He wanted to cook me my favorite cookies to cheer me up. He had no idea how to do it, but he was determined. He snuck into the kitchen in the middle of the night and tried to make them.” Patton laughed at the memory. “He did really, really bad. Logan hadn’t ever cooked anything before, let alone mint chocolate chip cookies. There was flour everywhere and he managed to break three wooden spoons. But, when mama got better, she taught him how to make them. That way, he can make them for me if she ever can’t.”

Patton offered the treat again. “Come on,” Patton said when he still didn’t move to eat it. “What’s wrong?”

Logan stepped forward suddenly and Patton blinked at him. He reached for the cookie and tore off a small piece of it before offering it to Patton. Patton opened his mouth, confused, and let him pop it into his mouth. He chewed it and swallowed.

“Try again,” Logan said, stepping away.

Patton turned back to the boy and held out the cookie. After a moment’s hesitation, the boy opened his mouth. Patton let him take a bite. “See!” he said. “It’s good, huh?”

He chewed and swallowed the bite of cookie. “W-what’s going on?” he finally spoke in a low scratchy tone. Hmm, maybe Patton should get him some water soon.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Patton said. “Lo and I were a bit startled by you showing up in his bedroom in the middle of the night.”

“I… was knocked unconscious,” the boy said.

“Well, you gave us quite the fright there with that knife of yours.”

The boy seemed to shrink at the reminder.

“Want to tell us what that was about?” Patton asked.

He shook his head, shoulders climbing.

“Let us rephrase,” Logan said calmly. “Clearly you were here to assassinate either my father, myself, or both. So, the relevant questions are who sent you to do so and why?” The boy shook his head and Logan frowned. “No?” he asked. “Apologies, but ‘no’ is not a sufficient answer.”

 Chapter 4

Logan’s statement did not appear to go over well with the small assassin. He went still and curled over into himself as though to protect his more vulnerable areas. Honestly, Logan thought agitated, Logan hadn’t threatened any bodily harm. He’d even prefaced the statement with an apology even though he didn’t feel as though he had anything to apologize for! Just like father had taught him!

Patton shot him a glare, telling him he was somehow in the wrong despite the fact that he’d been the one who was almost assassinated. Logan grumbled and returned to quietly sulking in the background while Patton cooed at the assassin, trying to cajole him out of the ball he’d wrapped himself into.

Logan did have to admit the situation was odd. He was young. He didn’t even know anyone trained assassins so young. His kingdom did have a guild of trained assassins/spies, but one couldn’t even join the military until one was of age (though they could start training at 16 with special permission) and all assassins must have at least a year of military training before being considered. It would be years more before they were sent out on actual missions.

So, where had this young boy came from? Surely, he wasn’t acting of his own violation, especially considering his age and temperament. What was his or whoever had sent him’s greater purpose? One didn’t attempt the risky act of regicide without some reasoning. Why did he only have one weapon? Most hired killers would be provided with a backup at the very least and more than likely an arsenal. Why was he acting so skittish? It was a strange attitude for a trained killer.

He had piqued Logan’s curiosity and Logan wanted answers.

“There, see?” Patton was saying. He was hand feeding more of the cookie to the assassin who looked just as startled by this fact the second time around as the first. “How about a compromise?”

Logan eyed him suspiciously. He was willing to let Patton lead since Logan was well aware of his own shortcomings when it came to tact, but his friend also had a bit of a bleeding heart. Logan refused to let him put himself at risk.

Ironically, the assassin seemed to be on the same page as Logan. His eyes tracked Patton distrustfully. “Compromise?” he echoed.

“Yes!” Patton said, unconcerned with the blatant discomfort in the room.

“We’ll ask you a question and you answer it,” Patton said. “Then you can ask a question and we’ll answer that. Then we can keep going back and forth like that.”

The assassin seemed unsure about this, but he slowly nodded. “What’s your question?” he asked.

Patton looked back at Logan and inclined his head. Logan took a step forward. “Who are you?” Logan asked. The assassin hesitated.

“Maybe a more specific question,” Patton suggested. “We’ve got plenty of time and ‘who are you?’ is a bit of a big question. There are so many different answers!”

“Very well,” Logan agreed. “Let’s start with, what’s your name?”

The assassin considered him, looking overly cautious for such a mundane question. “It’s Virgil,” he said after a moment.

“Last name?” Logan prompted.

“I-” he hesitated, looking distressed. “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have one?” Logan asked.

And… he was curling up into a ball again. “Sorry,” he said softly. He started to cry again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, hey,” Patton soothed. “That was good.”

Logan frowned. It was not ‘good’. It had given them basically no information. “Why-”

“It’s Virgil’s turn to ask a question, Logan,” Patton said. Logan almost groaned. This was going to take forever, wasn’t it?

Virgil’s eyes bounced between them. “Why haven’t you called someone to take me away yet?” he asked.

“We wanted to ask you a few questions ourselves before getting the castle guards involved,” Logan answered.

“Are…” he shut his mouth, likely realizing he’d have to wait for his next question.

Logan considered him. “Why do you have no last name?” Logan asked.

Virgil looked away. “I’m an orphan. I don’t know who my parents were, and no one bothered to give me one.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Logan acknowledged. “And your question?”

“Are…” Virgil said. “Are you going to torture me if I don’t answer something right?”

Patton let out a little pained exhale.

“Why would we do that?” Logan asked.

“Why wouldn’t you do that?” he replied.

“Where the hell are you from where that’s a question?”

“Why the hell should I tell you?”

“Why the hell would you be defending a place that makes you think that’s a normal question?”

“What the fuck are you even on about?”

“Okay,” Patton cut Logan off before he retorted in kind. “I think that’s enough of the question game at the moment.” He stood up and walked back over to the plate of cookies.

“He-” Logan started to grouse and got a sugar cookie pushed into his mouth to silence him.

Logan frowned around the cookie as Patton went back and offered the other cookie to Virgil. Virgil turned his head away from it. Logan’s eyes watched the assassin as Patton thought for a moment and then tore a bit of the cookie off. He ate the bite himself before offering the cookie again. This Virgil was a suspicious thing, Logan thought as the boy slowly ate a bite of cookie.

It made Logan’s curiosity itch even more, but at this rate he wasn’t going to get any answers. He polished off the sugar cookie and then walked over to sit on the floor next to where Patton was kneeling.

Virgil watched him move and Logan met his eyes. “No, by the way,” Logan thought to answer. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Logan tried not to bristle at the disbelieving look on his face. Logically that distrust had nothing to do with Logan personally, but with whatever his experiences were before this.

Logan tilted his head at him. “Why the one knife?”

Virgil blinked at that. “What?”

“The knife,” Logan reiterated. “You were clearly here to use it, but you only have one. It seems odd.”

“Uh…” Virgil said. “I don’t know. That’s all they gave me.”

Logan nodded. “Me or my dad?” he asked. “Or both?”

Virgil clearly didn’t want to answer. “The king,” he said.

Logan nodded, and it suddenly hit him exactly what would have occurred if he and Patton hadn’t happened to be awake. Virgil seemed to see the realization on his face. He braced himself as though expecting to be struck. Logan felt suddenly nauseous, the idea of a dead father hitting a bit too close to home after…

“And the guards?” Logan asked.

“I didn’t,” Virgil rushed to say. “Just a light sleeping potion. They probably didn’t even notice anything happen.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “Good.”

“What are you going to do with me?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll hand you over to the guards,” Logan said. “They’ll figure out what to do with you from there.”

He nodded, looking small, and Logan refused to feel guilty for it. Virgil had come here with the intention of killing Logan’s dad! Logan had no reason to feel guilty about turning him in. Besides, it wasn’t as though any of them were going to hurt or kill a literal child. Dad would never let them anyway. He’d be fine! There was no reason for his sad eyes that seemed almost too big for his face to make Logan want to squirm uncomfortably.

Logan sighed. “Are you still hungry?” he asked. “We do actually have more than just cookies in spite of Patton’s efforts.”

“We don’t have any more jam though because of Logan’s efforts earlier,” Patton said sweetly. Logan pursed his lips but didn’t deny it. Instead he just walked over to where they’d stored their extra snacks.

“How about some cheese?” Logan suggested, “and perhaps some milk to drink?”

“Why are you trying to feed me?” Virgil asked.

“Because you look hungry. Are you?”

He bit his lip and nodded. They split up the cheese between the three of them which seemed to soothe Virgil’s worry of poison. He ate what they offered him without complaint and drank most of the milk.

Logan managed to squeeze a few more answers out of the boy, but nowhere near enough to satiate his curiosity. Eventually, morning came, and Logan sighed. “We should probably…” he said, “turn you in.”

The boy looked like he might burst into sobs, but he just hung his head. Another stab of that unfounded guilt shot through Logan and the frown on Patton’s face just made it worse.

“I’ll talk to my father first,” Logan promised. “He’s a kind man. Nothing bad will happen to you.”

Virgil clearly didn’t believe him, but Logan knew it would be okay in the end.

“We should probably hide him before we leave though,” Logan told Patton. “Just in case.”

Patton nodded and looked around. “Closet?”

“That will be adequate,” Logan agreed. He turned to Virgil. “Those bracelets make your arms stay in place as you have seen, but I can move them at will. I’ll take your arms and guide you to the closet. You walk behind me. Understand?”

Virgil nodded and Logan picked up both of his wrists, pulling his arms in front of him and then using his grip to help the boy stand. He didn’t resist being pulled to his feet or led to the closet.

“Alright, let’s go,” Logan said. Patton had on his unhappy face, but Logan did his best to ignore it. This was the correct decision. He and Patton left his bedroom and crossed to his dad’s room. Logan knocked. He’d expected that he’d have to wake his father since it was still very early in the morning, so he was surprised when the door opened before Logan had even finished knocking.

“Logan,” Father said. “I was just coming to see you.” He was already dressed, and Logan raked his brain for any early morning appointments for today and came up blank.

“What about?” Logan asked.

“There’s been word that Lamir’s new Queen may be considering an alliance with Mocnejsi. Seeing as I knew her mother fairly well, I’m hoping I can talk her out of it,” he said.

“What should I do?” Logan asked.

Father turned back into the room. “You’ll stay here and oversee things while I’m gone,” he told Logan over his shoulder. “I’ll only be gone for three weeks and there is nothing major that will need to happen. Just make sure everything runs like usual.”

“You’re going to be gone for three weeks?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Father confirmed.

Logan glanced at Patton who had turned to him, hands clasped and was shooting him his best pleading expression. “Okay,” Logan said, “have a nice trip.”

 Chapter 5

Virgil sat as still as he could in the dark space he’d been put in. He could feel the warning tingle of the binding magic at his wrists telling him not to move too much or else. He was just lucky that they’d chosen to use metal instead of cloth to apply the potion and that he’d been unconscious until it dried. He knew from experience that there was no escaping the pain that type of potion brought until it dried no matter how still you were. Now, at least, if he didn’t try to struggle against his binding it wouldn’t hurt him. It sucked because all he wanted to do was move. He wanted to struggle and pull against the binding at his wrist, but he couldn’t. Even if it wouldn’t put him in crippling amounts of pain, he’d still not be able to get away.

So, instead he just shook. He was such a fuck up. He couldn’t even remember the right room and now he was going to die. No, he was probably going to be tortured and then he was going to die. His breath came quicker and quicker the longer he remained in the closet. He’d tried to murder their king. He’d come into their prince’s bedroom in the middle of the night wielding a knife. There was no way he wasn’t going to be made to suffer for that. It didn’t matter how gently the prince and his… person had treated him so far.

He heard the muffled sounds of people approaching the closet and curled into himself. Oh, god he was going to die. He had been breathing quickly, but now he couldn’t breathe at all. It felt like someone had poured tar into his lungs. The closet door opened, and he flinched, curled into a ball and choking on nothing.

“Hey, hey,” a familiar voice said. Patton, Virgil’s mind offered: the other guy with the prince. When Virgil managed to flick his eyes open, he saw Patton had gotten to his knees in front of him. He dully noted that the boy had reached out and touched his shoulder. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. Can you breathe for me?”

What was the point? He wondered, but after a few moments, he managed to suck in a couple of breaths.

When he managed to calm enough to look around, he noticed that instead of there being a bunch of castle guards standing around waiting to drag him off to some dungeon, it was just the prince and Patton again. He blinked up at them in confusion.

“There’s been a change of plans,” the prince explained.

“What?” Virgil asked dumbly. “What do you mean?”

“My father is going to be away for the next three weeks,” the prince said. “Considering you didn’t kill the guards and your only targets seems to be my father and perhaps myself, you are likely not a real danger to anyone if you escape and I’m willing to take the risk with myself. With that in mind, Patton and I have decided not to turn you in yet.”

Well what the hell did that mean? Was that good or bad? On one hand, it meant that he wouldn’t be executed yet, but what exactly did the prince want with him?

As Virgil began to freak out about the possibilities, the prince continued to speak, seemingly more to himself than to Virgil or Patton.

“We will need to figure out how to care for you in the interim. We’ll have to provide you with more food than just snacks as well as find you a place to sleep. At least one of us will have to be with you at all times, and with Father gone, I’ll have to attend to some royal duties. Luckily it isn’t strange for Patton to come into my quarters at will.” He considered Virgil with discerning eyes. “Also, your general health seems to be lacking, so I’ll have to account for preexisting conditions. First thing, first though. I imagine keeping you in those bracelets all the time would be impractical. We’ll need another solution, especially for sleep.”

Virgil did not like the sound of that. He assumed based on what the prince had done so far that he’d enact some sort of magical bondage. From Virgil’s experience, magical bondage ranged from unpleasant to legitimately agonizing.

“Patton, if you will watch him for the time being, I need to go work on a more precise binding potion then the one I’ve been using.”

“Sure,” Patton agreed, but the prince was wondering away before he’d even finished the word. Patton shook his head fondly before turning back to Virgil. “Wanna come out of the closet now?”

He really, really didn’t, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He curled his legs into himself as much as he could and waited to be dragged out into the room, but he wasn’t touched.

“Okay,” Patton said. “That’s fine. It’s a pretty nice closet.” Virgil said nothing but did breathe a sigh of relief about being able to stay. It wasn’t very rational because in actuality he was no safer here than anywhere else in the room, but the closet felt more defensible even if they could drag him out of it whenever they wanted.

Patton seemed content to sit outside the closet and leave him in peace for the moment. A few minutes later Patton made a sound and Virgil looked over to see him yawn. He smiled when he saw Virgil watching. “It was a long night for all of us, I imagine,” he said. “Hmm… actually. Wait there.”

Like he could go anywhere else. He couldn’t get a good enough angle to see what Patton was doing, but he could here him moving around the room and rustling through a few things. He came back into view holding a comical number of pillows and blankets.

“Here,” Patton said. He offered Virgil one of the blankets and then seemed to remember that Virgil could not reach out to take it. “Hmm…” He spread out the blanket next to Virgil. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

“Why are you even asking?” Virgil asked. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Patton frowned and Virgil scrunched into himself at the expression, but it lightened the next moment. “I know it’s a bit of a bad situation and you are technically a prisoner, but I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel bad,” Patton said.

 Virgil didn’t know how to respond to that. There was no way that it wasn’t some sort of trick, but he didn’t dare outright say that he thought that.

“Can I touch you a bit?” Patton asked once again. “Just to help you get onto the blanket.”

“Sure,” Virgil agreed.

The other boy smiled sweetly and grabbed his wrists with gentle fingers. Virgil let his whole body follow Patton’s guidance until he was situated rather comfortably on an unbelievably soft blanket.

“Head,” Patton said, holding up a pillow. Virgil lifted his head slightly and the pillow was shoved underneath it.

 Another blanket was settled over him the next. Patton was weird. “There you go!” Patton said. “Now you can take a nap.”

Virgil blinked up at him in confusion. That was… not happening. What exactly about this situation did Patton think was conducive to sleep?

“…Or rest comfortably at least,” Patton said after a moment. He arranged a pillow and blanket for himself and laid on his side, so he was facing Virgil. He yawned slightly again but didn’t close his eyes. They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment.

“What are we doing?” Virgil finally asked when he realized Patton was not planning to ever break the awkward silence.

 “We’re resting,” Patton said, “and hanging out.”

“Hanging out?” Virgil asked.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton said popping up onto his elbow to peer at him. “Let’s talk some! We can get to know each other.”

Virgil looked at him suspicious about where this was going. “Talk about what?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

Patton hummed a quiet tune and his fingers tapped against the side of his face as he wiggled a bit back and forth. “Do you like cats?”

“Cats?” Virgil asked. “Uh… sure?”

“I love cats,” Patton divulged. “There are a lot of cats in the castle. Not all of them like people very much, but I like to try to pet them! I even made up a game where I get points for every cat that lets me pet it. The grumpier they are, the more points I get!”

 “You… try to pet wild cats?” Virgil asked.

“Uh huh!”

Virgil thought back to the few untamed cats he’d met in his life. “Don’t they… try to murder you.”

“Sometimes,” Patton said with a shrug. He moved his arm suddenly and Virgil startled, but he just rolled down his sleeve so Virgil could see a large, fairly fresh-looking scratch on his arm. “This one’s from Mr. Calico Man. He does not like his ears touched apparently, but he will let me give him chin scratchies!”

This boy was insane.

“I think I’ve pet every single cat in the castle at least once, except for Ghost Kitty.”

 “Who is Ghost Kitty?”

“Oh, Ghost Kitty is the prettiest thing in the world,” Patton gushed. “She hangs out in the gardens a lot, but no one ever can get anywhere near it. She’s completely black and only started showing up about a year ago. I can’t even see her for more than 2 seconds at a time let alone try to pet her, but I will some day and on that day, I’ll get 1,000 points!”

“How many points are they usually?”

“For ones like Mittens and Cleo who I’ve known since they were babies, only 1. For Sandra it’s 5 since she can get a bit tetchy, but usually won’t run away. Lily Flower and Red Hot like to run away, but won’t try to scratch me if I do catch them so they’re 10. Ones like Mr. Calico Man are worth 100.”

 “So, you are going to try to pet a cat that is 10x more feral than the one that slashed your arm?”

“She’s so pretty!”

“You have no survival instincts whatsoever, do you?” Virgil asked.

Patton smiled wryly at him. “I apparently have a couple,” he said.

Virgil blinked at him and thought back, connecting the dots. Only Patton and the prince knew he was here, and the prince had been in front of him when he’d came into the room… “You were the one to knock me unconscious,” he concluded.

“I’d say sorry, but you were coming in here with the intention of hurting someone I care about,” Patton said with a shrug.

 Right. Virgil had almost forgotten amongst his soft tone and gentle countenance that the man laying docilly next to him definitely hated his guts, and would probably relish in whatever the prince had planned for him.

Virgil let his fists clench, but otherwise didn’t let onto his distress at the thought as Patton softly brought the conversation back to the previous topic and continued to ramble on about the different cats of the castle.

 Chapter 6

Virgil had started to feign sleep about an hour after Logan had left to his potions lab. Patton could tell because his arms never relaxed. Patton kept talking to him in soft tones even though he was no longer responding.

 He seemed exhausted, but he was also clearly not planning to sleep any time soon. Patton wondered what had led up to him being here both recently which had caused the dark circles under his eyes and long term that had caused the sunkenness of his cheeks.

Patton’s stomach growled reminding him of the passage of time. He had no idea how long whatever Logan was doing was going to take, but someone was going to have to go to the kitchen and get some breakfast soon. The snacks truly had not been enough to hold them through the night.

 He felt secure enough even knowing Virgil wasn’t actually sleeping to push himself to his feet and walk over to the potions lab door. “Hey Lo,” Patton called. Virgil still hadn’t moved to indicate he was still awake.

“Yes?” he asked.

“How long are you going to take? I need to get food soon and maybe come up with an excuse for at least one of us to stay here all day.”

“It’ll be a little while longer,” Logan said.

Patton glanced back at Virgil. He caught the boy with his eyes open this time and saw him wince at being caught. “Maybe Virgil can stay in there with you well I go get things?”

 “That would be fine,” Logan said, turning back to what he was working on. “Bring him in here if you’d like.”

“Okie dokie,” Patton chirped. He turned to Virgil who was looking up at him. “I’m going to take your arms and lead you to the other room, okay?”

He nodded and Patton leaned down and grabbed his wrists. He went tenser somehow when Patton moved his arms to his front and Patton frowned, but didn’t comment. He helped him get to his feet and led him into the other room.

“You can seat him over there,” Logan said pointing.

 Virgil was looking around the room with wide eyes and Patton had to stop and think about what this room might look like to someone who hadn’t been enthusiastically introduced to every new potion ingredient and piece of equipment as they arrived. There were shelves of ingredients, all organized and labeled. He kept all powders in uniform glass vials and liquids in bulbous containers. Whole dried herbs hung from strings in one area and there were containers of fresh ones glowing a soft green; the preservation spells that Logan came up with himself kept them fresh for months longer than they would usually last.

 Logan had three separate areas for potion making. There was one space for potions that required more dangerous ingredients which currently had something simmering at it, but the enchanted protective curtain wasn’t drawn around it, so Patton imagined it must not be doing anything that could be too harmful at the moment. The table he used for experiments was empty and thoroughly cleaned so he was clearly making something with an already well-established recipe. Currently, he was standing at his table reserved only for non-harmful substances. He was chopping up what appeared to be mint as two smaller pots boiled in front of him.

 Patton led Virgil over to the indicated chair which was out of the way of even the non-dangerous ingredient zone. He still seemed to be trying to take in the room as Patton settled his wrists on the chair armrests.

“Any requests?” he asked Logan.

“Not really,” Logan replied. He glanced up at Patton. “Though if you can sneak me some of the leftover macaroni salad from dinner, that would be appreciated.”

“That’s not breakfast!” Patton chided.

“Which is why I requested that you to sneak it.”

Patton shook his head and turned back to Virgil. “What about you?” he asked.

 He looked up at Patton and shook his head. Virgil looked a bit scared and out-of-sorts. He wanted to reach forward and pat him on the head or kiss his cheek to comfort him, but he imagined that would go over worse than badly. Instead, he flashed the boy a quick smile and then turned to leave the room.

He left Logan’s private chambers and closed the door behind him before walking down the hall.

“Good morning Patton,” one of the stationed guards greeted.

He smiled at her and the other guard. “Good morning Kalani. Hi Owen.”

“I see you and the prince had a sleepover,” Kalani said. “Should we be planning on him not making it to his royal duties until later today?”

“Actually,” said Patton. “Maybe all day. He was feeling a little sick. Had a headache.” It was… probably true. They hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“Hmm,” Kalani said. “Maybe there is something going around. Clover said she had a bit of a dizzy spell last night.”

“Oh,” Patton answered. Clover had been one of the two guards set to watch the door to the royal wing. At least Virgil had been telling the truth about not hurting anyone.

9783

“I hope she feels better. I’m going to go get Logan something to eat for breakfast since he can’t come himself, so I’ll see you again in a few minutes.”

The guards nodded to him and he turned to walk down the hall. The areas around the kitchens would be pretty busy at this point in the morning so instead of taking any of the busier paths to it, he walked past the dinning hall towards the guest hall and took the staircase that led straight outside. It was a longer path because he had to go around and through the garden, but it was worth not getting in anyone’s way.

 Patton always did like the garden. It was pretty at every time of year. Even now as the flowers started to get sparser in the fall, it was still wonderful, and it smelt great. He took just the briefest moment to himself to splash a hand through one of the fountains with a giggle. He turned away to continue on his path to the kitchen which is when he saw her.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Hi kitty.”

Ghost Kitty was there and stared at him briefly before taking off into one of the bushes.

“Bye kitty,” he said just as soft. He smiled even though she’d ran away because that was the closest, he’d ever gotten to her.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Drive Me to Distraction

Buckle up for some deeply self-indulgent smut that I am not even remotely sorry for. Along the same vein as Open Up.

Also on AO3!

***

“Guerin, can I talk to you a minute?”

Michael looks up from the calculations he and Liz are working on, the end of his pen clenched between his teeth. Alex, who had been typing away on his laptop at the table across the bunker last Michael checked, is standing by their work station with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks, taking the pen out of his mouth and twirling it between his fingers.

“Alone,” Alex clarifies, tracking the movement.

“Uh, yeah,” Michael says before asking Liz, “You got this while I’m gone?”

“I was a published research scientist long before you and your big alien brain came along, Mikey. I think I can handle a little math,” she says, her tone sarcastically amused.

Michael holds his hands up in mock surrender and gets up from the table.

Alex walks off without another word and Michael follows him mutely, wondering what Alex could want to talk to him about that he couldn’t say in front of Liz. He’s been looking into Project Shepherd, Michael knows, but Liz is part of the team; she should be informed about any developments on that front. Unless—is it about his mom? His mind is running through the possibilities a mile a minute as he follows Alex into the small bathroom, the only private place in the whole bunker.

When the door clicks shut behind them, what Michael is definitely not expecting is for Alex to spin him around and walk him backward until the porcelain sink is digging into his lower back.

“Are you teasing me on purpose,” Alex asks, voice low in his ear, “or do you really not know how fucking distracting you are?”

“Wha-?” Michael asks intelligently, his senses overloaded by the heat coming off Alex’s body and the scent of his aftershave. Alex tugs on Michael’s earlobe with his teeth, as if that will make him any more coherent. Michael has to close his eyes and count to five before he asks, “W-what do you mean?”

Alex pointedly rolls his hips into Michael’s so he can feel his erection, hot and hard in his jeans.

“Oh,” Michael says breathlessly, his own body reacting in kind as he looks down between them at the bulge in Alex’s pants.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Alex echoes.

“I did that to you, huh?” Michael asks, his hands reaching for Alex’s waist, pulling him even closer, eyes glazing over with want.

“Mhm, you and that mouth of yours,” Alex answers, eyes fixed on Michael’s lips.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Michael protests.

“Didn’t have to. I’ve been watching you suck on your pen for the last twenty minutes like you’re not supposed to be using it for something. It’s very distracting.”

Michael’s always had a pen chewing problem, the frenetic chaos in his head making him prone to fidgeting, but he never thought it would ever turn anyone on. Though, he supposes, if he saw Alex stick something vaguely cylindrical in his mouth like that he’d be hard pressed not to let his mind wander.  

Michael imagines Alex sitting across the room from him, trying and failing to do his own work as he watches the tip of Michael’s pen disappear into his mouth, a hint of tongue peeking out every now and then. The vision in his mind’s eye shifts suddenly to Alex palming his swelling cock under the table as he thinks about all the other, better things Michael could be doing with his mouth.

I can certainly come up with a few, Michael thinks, already calculating the distance between the bathroom and the main lab and the thickness of the walls surrounding them to determine whether they’re far enough away to avoid being heard. Michael licks his lips as he realizes they are, so long as they don’t shout.  

“Mm,” Michael hums. “I’m real sorry about that, Alex.”

“You are, huh?” Alex asks, doubtful amusement cracking through his expression.

“Yeah,” Michael says, looking up at him beneath his lashes. “I should really do somethin’ about it, don’t you think? Show you how sorry I am.”

Michael starts to get to his knees, but Alex stops him. Michael stands up straight again, eyebrows raised questioningly. Alex just smiles at him, naked affection softening his gaze as his hand comes to rest on Michael’s cheek, his thumb brushing against the stubble there.

“You’re not obligated to do anything about this, you know that, right? I mostly just wanted to ask you to take mercy on me and keep your pen out of your mouth, but I got a little carried away,” Alex confesses, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. “You can go back to your calculations now if you want, I can take care of it myself.”

Michael huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he leans in to kiss him, slow and dirty enough to make his intentions very, very clear. When he pulls away, Alex’s pupils have well and truly blown, his gaze locked on Michael’s mouth.

“That is very sweet of you, Alex,” Michael says, bringing his hand between them to squeeze Alex’s cock through the dark denim of his jeans. His smug smile widens as Alex’s eyes slip closed and his hips press into his touch. “But if I don’t get my mouth on you in the next five seconds I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

Alex swallows and Michael watches his throat work, transfixed.

“What are you waiting for then?”

In one smooth movement, Michael spins them around so Alex is the one leaning against the sink. Once Alex is settled, Michael kneels on the hard concrete floor, his hands sliding up Alex’s thighs as he licks his lips in anticipation.

Alex grips Michael’s curls tight at the back of his head and Michael’s mouth drops open, his own cock throbbing in his jeans. Alex’s free hand comes up to touch his bottom lip, still slick with spit.

“Look at you,” Alex muses, the tip of his finger running along the edge of his teeth, pressing down to open Michael’s mouth further. Michael moans softly, sticking his tongue forward for a taste of Alex’s skin. “Haven’t even gotten my cock out and you’re already gagging for it.”

Michael whimpers as Alex slips his finger deeper inside to swipe over his tongue, and goddamn it if he doesn’t love it when Alex talks to him like this.

Alex’s other hand pops the button on his jeans and frees himself from his boxer briefs, tugging the waistband under his balls. Michael stares hungrily at his cock, thick and hard in front of him, and his lips close instinctually to suck on the finger that’s already in his mouth.

“Fuck, I love how much you want it,” Alex comments, watching Michael’s face. Alex removes his finger and wraps his hand around the base of his own cock, angling it toward Michael’s mouth. “Go on, you can have it.”

Michael leans forward and takes the head into his mouth, moaning as soon as he gets that first taste of precome. He revels in the feel of him, heavy on his tongue as it forces his lips open wide. Alex’s blunt nails scrape along Michael’s scalp as he sucks, drunk on the way Alex bites down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Michael bobs his head, taking him deeper and deeper on every downstroke until the dark wiry hair at the base of Alex’s cock tickles his nose. Tears leak from his eyes as he fights against his gag reflex, but Alex is there to catch them with the pad of his thumb.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex groans softly. “So fucking perfect, baby, you’re so good for me.”

Michael moans and Alex’s hips twitch forward involuntarily at the vibration, shoving his cock deeper down Michael’s throat. Alex cants his hips backward almost immediately, an apology on his lips, but Michael slides his hands around to the backs of Alex’s thighs to push him closer, urging him to fuck his throat. Instead of following through on Michael’s silent demand, Alex pulls his cock out of his mouth entirely.

He lets Michael catch his breath a minute before he asks, “You sure?” brushing his thumb across Michael’s cheek. Michael blushes as Alex’s finger trails down to wipe away some of the saliva that’s dripped down his chin.

“Yeah,” he says, voice broken and rough. “Please.”

Alex nods and eases his cock back into Michael’s mouth. Once Michael gives him the go ahead, he starts pumping his hips in a slow, steady rhythm that gradually builds as Michael adjusts to it.

Michael’s eyes fall shut as he concentrates on breathing, giving himself over to the sensation of Alex filling his throat, to the soft sounds Alex makes as his pleasure mounts. Michael is desperate for all of it, but most of all for the feeling of being used by the only person he’s ever trusted enough to give permission. Because as much as Alex gets off on this, as easy as it would be to forget himself and push Michael too hard, too fast, Michael knows that Alex will never be reckless with his safety, and he’s finally starting to understand why that matters.

It’s not long before Alex pulls out again, a gossamer thread of saliva connecting Michael’s mouth to his cock. Michael kneels there, gasping as he looks up at him.

“Keep your mouth open,” Alex demands roughly.

Michael obeys, opening his mouth, his tongue sticking out just passed the edge of his bottom lip.

“That’s it, baby,” he gasps, taking himself in hand. “You’re so good, love you so much.”

Alex strips his cock at lightning speed until he comes in thick white streaks across Michael’s tongue, shoving his cock back in his mouth at the last second so it doesn’t spill. Michael swallows greedily, sucking on the tip until Alex hisses in overstimulation and gently pushes him away. Michael rests his head on Alex’s thigh, his fingers dropping to curl around Alex’s left ankle as they both catch their breath.

Michael feels like he’s floating as Alex pulls him to his feet. He seeks out Alex’s warmth immediately, pressing close until their chests are flush together. He moans a little too loudly when Alex reaches for the waistband of his blue jeans, his need for release becoming urgent the moment he remembers it.

“Alex,” he whines as Alex gets his jeans open.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Alex promises.

Alex licks his own palm and takes him in hand. He doesn’t drag it out, instead jerking Michael off fast and rough. Michael buries his face in Alex’s neck to muffle his desperate sounds, his fingers gripping hard at Alex wherever he can reach.

“That’s it, Michael,” Alex murmurs in his ear. “Come for me, you can do it, you’ve been so good, come on—“

Stars explode behind Michael’s eyes as he comes in no time at all, shooting hard into Alex’s waiting hand. His eyes close as Alex milks him dry, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of him.

Suddenly, Michael feels something wet at his lips again. “Come on, don’t waste it,” Alex urges, and Michael opens his mouth without question. He registers the sharp taste of his own come on Alex’s fingers as they press inside his mouth and his spent cock twitches in interest against Alex’s palm.

He opens his eyes as he licks Alex’s fingers clean, enjoying the rapturous expression on Alex’s face. The second Alex’s fingers are out of his mouth, Alex claims his lips in a possessive kiss, chasing the taste of him on Michael’s tongue with his own. Michael lets Alex have his fill, content to submit to him.

“Mmm,” Michael hums when Alex pulls away, eyes half-lidded as he nuzzles closer.

He wraps his arms more completely around Alex’s waist as he leans heavily against his chest, his forehead finding a home against Alex’s neck. Alex rubs his hand up and down Michael’s back soothingly, making Michael want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“How’re you feeling?” Alex asks after he’s had a moment to settle. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

Michael takes stock of himself. His throat feels raw, his jaw aches, and he’s sure if he looked in the mirror he’d see a goddamn mess, but right now he feels amazing.

“No, you were perfect,” Michael answers, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to his temple. After a moment he chuckles and adds, “God, you really sound like you just got your throat fucked. Liz is definitely gonna know what I did to you in here.”

Michael makes an amused sound. “If she doesn’t already. You weren’t exactly quiet while I sucked your brain out your dick.”

Alex’s laugh is fond as he asks, rhetorically, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Whatever you want,” Michael replies, softer than he means to.

Michael feels Alex hold him tighter. “I love you,” he whispers into his curls.

“I love you too,” Michael says, squeezing him back and pressing a kiss to his neck.

Alex continues to rub his back for another precious minute before his movements slow to a stop. Michael makes a small noise of complaint in the back of his throat.

“I know,” Alex sighs ruefully, “but we should really get back to work.”

“Do we have to?” Michael whines.

“Mhm,” Alex answers. “Liz needs your help.”

“I think you’ll recall she said she could handle it,” he counters, though he’s already standing up on his own and tucking himself back into his jeans. Michael can feel Alex’s assessing gaze on him even as he zips himself up.

“Hey,” he says softly, and waits for Michael to look at him before he continues, “That was pretty intense, what we just did. We should still get back to work, but I’ll be just across the room, okay? If you want to go home or just need me close for a while, all you have to do is ask.”

Michael smiles, impossibly fond. “I know.”

They take turns washing their hands and give each other a once over to make sure there are no hard-to-explain stains on their clothes. Michael notes in the mirror that his hair is indeed a mess and his lips are red and puffy from use, but there’s not a whole lot he can do about that now.

“I’ll head out first,” Alex says, pausing to press a kiss to Michael’s cheek on his way out.

Michael spends another few minutes trying to make himself presentable before he leaves the bathroom.

When he reaches the drawing table he and Liz were working at, he finds a cold bottle of water in front of his chair. He locks eyes with Alex across the room and smiles, cracking the seal and taking a long pull, the cool liquid soothing his sore throat on the way down.

“So, you ready to—?” Liz starts, but freezes the second she looks at him. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Michael asks, feigning innocence, though he knows his performance is ruined by how wrecked his voice sounds.

“Don’t ‘what?’ me, Michael Guerin,” Liz says. “You two are fucking ridiculous, we’re supposed to be working!”

“I don’t know about ridiculous,” Michael smirks, “but we’re definitely fucking.”

Alex’s startled laugh echoes around the bunker as Michael narrowly avoids the eraser Liz throws at him.

[duker42]

💜Levi’s First💜 Part 2 of 2 Levi x Reader

💜Levi’s First💜 Part 2 of 2

*****WARNING*****NSFW

Part 1

(Y/N)’s POV:

I haven’t been able to look at the Captain all day. Anytime I catch a glimpse of him, I start to blush, remembering what we did just a few hours ago. And I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t looking forward to tonight. ‘Will we have sex? Do I want to give him my virginity? Will he reject me when he finds out?’ All these thoughts run through my head as I sit with my squad, eating dinner.

“(Y/N), the Captain wanted me to tell you to be in his office 15 minutes after dinner.” Eren murmurs to me, giving me a sympathetic look. “He’s been staring at you all night, what did you do to piss him off?”

I flash a glance at the upper table, my eyes locking onto the silver eyes appraising me. Flushing slightly, I turn back to my tray of food. My appetite has vanished, the room in my stomach taken up by the butterflies flittering around in there.

“I guess I should go.” I get up and dispose of my tray and walk back to my room. 20 minutes before I’m to go to Levi’s office. I quickly shower and slide into the most delicate lacy set of undergarments I have, before putting my uniform on over that. I braid my hair and then set off for Levi’s office with 5 minutes to spare. Butterflies are fluttering in my stomach as I stop at his door and knock.

“Come in.” The deep voice of the Captain sounds muffled.

I enter his office and find the space empty, but the door to his bedroom is cracked open. I look around the neat, organized room as I wait for my soon to be lover. As I am examining the titles on his bookshelf, I feel him touch my shoulder, and I turn to face him.

‘Damn he looks amazing!’ His hair is messy for once, still damp from his shower. His feet are bare, and he’s wearing the black uniform pants with his shirt is only halfway buttoned. Leaving that impressive chest exposed for me to admire. I tear my gaze away from his skin to look up into his eyes, which are blazing into mine.

“Have a seat (Y/N).” He whispers.

Taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk, I watch him lean back, contemplating me.

“Look, I’m not good with emotions or sweet words. I’m going to just say this. I want you, but I need to hear you say you want this too, before it goes any further.” He peers at me, waiting for my response.

“Ummm. I want it, Levi...” I hesitate, take a deep breath before continuing. “I just need you to know that I don’t have much experience when it comes to this. So.....”

“How much experience do you have?” He growls out, his expression turning dark.

I wince as I look down and whisper “None.”

Instantly, he is out of his chair and tipping my face up to look at him. His eyes soften as he speaks. “Then we can figure this out together. Why are you ashamed of being a virgin? I’m not.”

I blink at him, surprised by his admission “How are you a virgin? You’re so hot.....” I trail off.

He snorts. “I’m glad you think so, but don’t worry about that. Y/N, I’m going to kiss you now.” And he leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips.

Levi’s POV:

‘She’s a virgin too!’ While I never thought she was easy, I can’t believe I’m going to be the first person to touch her. I kiss her, and slowly pull her up into my arms as I deepen it, rolling my tongue along her lips as she welcomes my advances. Her mouth is sweet, like the mint from her tooth powder. Her taste is addictive. I run my hands down her back and squeeze her supple ass in my hands as I lift her up. She gasps and wraps her legs around my waist, throwing her arms around my neck. Not breaking the contact between our mouths, I carry her over to the open door to my bedroom and place her in the middle of my bed. Running my eyes over her, I hum in satisfaction of seeing her lips red from my kisses and her body hungry for more.

Crawling over her, I pin her thighs between my own as I kiss her neck and suck, leaving a slight bruise. I’ve always wanted to do that. I begin to unbutton the serious shirt to reveal scraps of lace covering her breasts, not practical, but sexy. She dressed for me, excitement flows through me as I realized she really did want this. I center my mouth over her nipple and draw on it through the lace as she moans and drags her fingers through my hair.

“Fuck, Levi....hurry up!” She pants.

Grinning, I lean back to let her remove the shirt and bra, while I strip my own shirt off. She goes to remove her pants, but I push her hands away. Instead, I watch her as I unbutton her pants and slowly start to lower them over her hips and down her thighs. Her body shivers as I slowly uncover her. Her panties match the bra and has even less material. My cock throbs seeing her in my bed with just that tiny piece of lace on. I stand and remove my pants and release the pressure momentarily. I clamber back over her, feeling hungry for her, predatory. I run my finger over her center to find she has soaked through the fabric, making me hum with need. ‘I have never needed something so bad in my fucking life’

I slide the last barrier between us down her legs and throw them somewhere in the room. Right now I don’t give a shit how messy this room is, all I can see is (Y/N) spread open, inviting me to come to her.

I lean over her bracing myself on one arm beside her head. The other hand is fisted around my cock, guiding it to her soft lips. I gently rub it around her, shutting my eyes at the feeling of her soft wetness. She’s restless beneath me, eager even. I place myself at the entrance at look down at her. “Are you sure, Y/N?” I ask, anticipating a change of heart, knowing that I will stop if she want me to. Relief courses through me at her slight nod as she pulls me down to her.

I capture her lips in a kiss as I start to slowly ease into her heat. Her eyes widen at my invasion of her body. It feels so fucking good! The way her body gripes me, hot and tight, I almost loose control. Then I feel myself nudge up against her barrier. People have said its better to break it quickly. I pause and look down at her. She nods her head slightly and I take a deep breath and surge my hips forward, ripping through her innocence as she envelops me.

(Y/N)’s POV:

I cry out in pain as Levi fills me. He stops, panting and starts covering my neck and mouth with light kisses. I can’t tell he is struggling not to move, to let me get used him. His back muscles are flexing under my hands as he continues to stay still, but it’s costing him. I see his control starting to slip as he flexes his hips a tiny bit. I gasp as the feeling is no longer painful, but aching like this morning with his fingers inside me. But it’s even better, because his size is greater and I can feel him pulse and throb inside my center. I need more.

“Please, Levi, move.” I beg. He withdraws almost completely, and thrusts forward again, burying himself in me. No pain this time this time, just pleasure as a low moan escapes me. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, as he continues to slowly pump in and out, watching my reactions to his movements. Small groans escape him as he finds a rhythm that begins to build up that wave of pleasure in my core.

Levi’s POV:

She’s so tight and hot, every thrust is bringing me closer to cumming. I come up to my knees, pulling her prone body with me. I watch my cock disappear into her as I thrust. Groaning as the sensation and view, I move back over her. Her face is the picture of sensuality, as every time I reach a certain spot deep within her, her eyes flutter and roll. I have an overwhelming urge to just slam into her, but I resist. She’s already going to be sore, and I don’t want to scare her away. I want more of this, of her. Her fingernails are digging into my hips and ass as I continue to rock my body into hers. I give her a hot wet kiss as I feel her start to shake around me, she’s close. I increase the tempo slightly, dropping down to where I have my arms around her as she cries out “LEVI!” and I feel her orgasm break free as she arches up. The feeling of her body tightening around my cock is overwhelming and I feel my own release about to explode. I thrust as deep and as hard as I can twice more and shout her name as my cum spills deep inside her.

I continue to slowly move within her as her walls still spasm around me, slowing as she comes down from her high. Spent, I roll off to the side and pull her close to me, running my hand up and down her body, savoring the aftermath as I catch my breath.

(Y/N)’s POV:

I never expected it would feel that good. Or that he would continue to lay with me afterwards. His hands running over my tired body lulls me into a light sleep as I rest on his chest and listen to the rapid heartbeat within begin to slow down.

I was Levi’s first...now to be his last.

The End.

Mobile MasterList

[catisawells]

A Muse for a Huntress

Dahlyah Grimshatter takes aim and fires off a shot into the lake! In the distance, a green bottle sent floating off towards the shoreline shatters!

Catisa Wells tilted her head to the side as she watched Dahlyah curiously, "You're certainly a good shot, Miss Dahlyah." She giggled and wandered over to join the woman.

“--Hm? Oi, thank yeh! Been pullin' triggers since I were jus' a wee lass o' nine.”

"Nine? My father would barely let me use the shears at that age." She snickered, "Then again it seems everyone had a far more colorful upbringing than I did."

Dahlyah Grimshatter holsters the weapon, before hopping down off the bridge railing. "M'father dinnae 'ave too stellar o' plans fer me, frankly. Weren't 'is place t' stop me." she shrugs.

Catisa Wells frowned at that and turned to face her as she folded her arms across her chest, "I am sorry to hear that, it doesn't sound like you had much of a fun childhood."

“Dunane mean t' bore yeh with it, lass. Or bum yeh out by talkin' 'bout it. Point is, been shootin' a while, aye?” Dahlyah Grimshatter grinned wickedly, “Wot's got yeh out an' 'bout, then?”

Catisa Wells smiled faintly, "I just wanted some fresh air... I heard the shooting and came to investigate. It's not something you hear often in this area." She tilted her head and offered Dahlyah a reassuring giggle. "How did your hunt go? I never got the chance to ask."

Dahlyah Grimshatter cheery smirk falters a bit. "--Ah, er... went fine." she nods once. "Tried capturin' th' beastie, like we 'ad talked, if'n yeh recall? But, er…” She shakes her head, and shrugs.

A warm smile spread across Catisa's features as she reached over to place a light touch upon the woman's shoulder, "I remember... I'm sorry you had to take a life, but don't fret. Sometimes it's not always so simple. I'm glad you appear to have come back unharmed more than anything."

“Aye, I ain't damaged none. Ridley neither, thank th' elements. But I ain't all too upset 'bout takin' a life, lass. I take lives like a corehound takes flamin' shites. Aye?” Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head, brow furrowing. "I tried, y'know? Tried doin' wot it were we was talkin' 'bout. Snaggin' th' beastie fer study an' all. All fer nothin'.”

Catisa Wells nodded her understanding and blew a lock of loose hair free from her features as she leaned back against the stone walls of the bridge. "I know what you mean. Some avenues of research play out like that all together, except it can take years." She sighed and offered the woman a tired smile, "Nothing cuts deeper than lost time, after all."

Dahlyah Grimshatter tucks her thumbs beneath her belt buckle, as she joins Catisa in leaning up against the wall. "Oi, aye. Makes me think it weren't worth th' effort. Should've jus' done wot I were plannin' an' gone fer th' kill from th' git-go." she huffs. “Jus' dinnae wanna disappoint yeh…”

Catisa Wells arched a brow as she looked to Dahlyah, "Me?" She seemed surprised, "W-why me?" A nervous chuckle escaped her and she quickly moved a hand to cover her features as she blushed. "I didn't mean to, um, mislead you and waste your time trying to catch it..." Her eyes shifted down to her feet and she began to fidget in place.

“--Huh? Oh, uh... no, I dinnae mean…” Dahlyah Grimshatter clears her throat. "It weren't like... -that-... Y'jus' made some good points, I thought, aye? An' I were hopin' t' share th' good news with yeh once I bagged th' beastie 'live. That, er... that's all.” She nods once, breaking her fiery gaze away.

A sigh of relief escaped the fledgeling mage, "Oh good, I was afraid you were upset with me for suggesting such a thing." She let her hand fall to her chest and smiled sweetly to the huntress. "But the only good news I needed was to know that my friend made it back safely from her hunt!"

“--Aye, no, aye... I'm made o' stern stuff, lass.” Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head. "I weren't mad at yeh fer nothin'. Jus' disappointed in m'self."

Catisa Wells shook her head, raven locks shifting from side to side with the movement. "You should be proud. You tried. That's more than most of your colleagues or competition or however you might view them would ever do. And that's a victory all by itself, isn't it?" She smirked, "Sometimes you have to give yourself credit for trying to do what others probably wouldn't, what you think is the right thing, even if others don't agree with you. Otherwise who would?"

Dahlyah Grimshatter looks to Catisa, brow raised. "Y'think so? I mean... I like t' think I follow a pretty good code o' ethics, aye? I ain't ne'er tried snipin' a mark that weren't mine. Nor take earnin's out from another bounty hunter. Killed plenty o' marks, but none wot dinnae deserve it, reckon. She shrugs. "Kinna like that?"

Catisa Wells shrugged, "I wouldn't presume to know about people. That's a whole realm I hope to never cross into, but regarding beasts at least I don't think they go out of their way to be malicious." A hand covered her lips as she giggled once more, "I would probably be a pretty terrible bounty hunter, I wouldn't ever want to kill a mark."

“E'en if it were a bandit? Or one seekin' t' cause harm t' innocents? Them's th' marks I try an' go fer, m'self.”

Catisa Wells looked out over the water, towards the hills in the distance with an idle smirk upon her lips. "I would be too busy trying to capture them alive so I can find out why. As far as I'm concerned there's always a reason for their actions. Call me an idealist, but if the bandit is stealing from others it's likely because they have no other means to survive so they have to take it from others who do. For one seeking to cause harm to others, why would they wish to do so? Were they hurt themselves or were they hired to do so?" She shrugged lightly with a snicker at herself. "I suppose that's just who I am, I would rather know things so I could understand it better and do something to make a difference about it."

Dahlyah Grimshatter nods slowly, offering a weak smile. "Suppose that's one way o' thinkin'. Ain't a wrong way, but... prone t' git hurt one wat'r another, reckon. There ain't always a reason wot can be figured an' corrected, lass. Not in my experience. Sometimes... folks're jus' malicious an' cruel.”

Catisa Wells chuckled and shook her head, "And that's probably the reason I wouldn't be able to have a career like that." She giggled, "I would probably get myself killed!"

“Ran down a mark once, wot were a Renny. Void elf, aye? Parchments says 'e killed six people by guttin' 'em alive. Nasty fucker, this'n.” Dahlyah Grimshatter frowns, as she recounts the story. "Tracked th' sum'bitch up t' Alterac, found 'im hidin' out in' one o' th' run down towers. Ridley's got 'im by th' leg, an' 'e's practically sniffin' th' gunpowder out m' barrel. Right then I ask 'im... "Why? Why'd y' kill them people like that?" An' y'know wot th' bastard said t' me?” Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head, frowning deeper. "Said 'e liked hearin' th' screams they made when 'e cut int'a 'em. Fed 'im lead, right then'n there. An' I'd do it again.” She pulls a small flash from behind her belt, and takes a swig. "... Sorry, lass. Weren't th' most pleasant story, were it? Dinnae mean t' bring yeh down, none."

Catisa Wells furrowed her brow and shook her head again, "I just can't fathom that..." She sighed, "Even in the face of all that I think I would still be asking why. People don't just decide to do that for no reason, they don't just decide to be evil without a cause." Her lips pulled downward in a frown, "It's alright, Miss Dahlyah. I apologize if I seem bothered, it's just something I'm not used to having to deal with."

“Well, if'n yeh ask me, somethin' y' best git used t'. Unpleasant as it is... this world's got evil in it. An' we dunnae always got time t' sort out wot went'n made it so, aye?” Dahlyah Grimshatter takes another swig from her flask, before holding it out in an offer to Catisa.

Catisa Wells held out a hand to politely decline with a faint smile offered, "Perhaps, though I'd like to think that's why there are people like me and then there are others who do what they can to deal with it like yourself while those answers are figured out. Without each other we wouldn't get anywhere, but together change is made over time. That evil may exist and won't go away, one cataclysmic event after another, but efforts to improve our situation never cease."

“... Huh. Interestin'... might take both types, yer sayin'? T' make th' world a better place?”

Catisa Wells nodded, "Mmhmm! While I would hesitate in the face of something you wouldn't, someone like me might know something that could help in some way." She beamed to Dahlyah, "I want to understand and learn everything I can during this life. Who knows what we

could achieve!"

Dahlyah Grimshatter smiles warmly at that and nods once to Catisa. "Aye. Well... when y' put it that way, we make a damn fine team, aye?" she chuckles.

Catisa Wells giggled, "We do!" She exclaimed with a wink to Dahlyah, "If you ever need me to help you study something, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to help. Maybe I'll just stay away from advising you about how to do your hunting instead." An embarrassed laugh escaped her.

Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head, still chuckling. "Nae, lass! Yer input were valid, an' appreciated! I dinnae think 'bout wot added good would come 'bout from takin' th' beastie alive, aye? Besides th' up in payout, 'course." she grins. “It were my fault, fer puttin' my expectations so high up. Set m'self up fer th' disappointment, aye? Keep advisin', lass. I'll jus' try an' be more mindful o' worst case versus best case.”

Catisa Wells grinned, "Of course! Maybe next time you have a situation like that one I could join you and learn how it is from your perspective, for a change!" Her gaze rose to the evening sky and pushed herself off of the stone wall, "It's getting a bit late and I need to meet Miss Silverfield for our job board mission. Will I see you at the end of the week for our next excursion?"

Dahlyah Grimshatter nodded once. "Aye, lass. If'n I'm slated fer it, I'll try an' see yeh there. If not, suppose we'll figure out another way t' work t'gether out in th' field, aye? Would like that." she smiles.

"Likewise!" She giggled and offered a happy wave, "See you soon!"

“Aye, forges keep y' warm, lass.”

@dahlyah-grimshatter​

[lady-therion]

Lost With You: Part 4 [Nessian]

Summary: Cassian and Nesta struggle to fix all the broken pieces between them.

(Post ACOFAS. Spoilers. Slight NSFW).)

A/N: At long last, we’ve reached the end. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

   It’s easy to break things. Putting them back together? That’s harder.

   Cassian knows this better than anyone. It is one of the first lessons of combat. The second is that war is only the beginning. Treatises may signed. Accords may be struck. But to rebuild a new world in the wake of the old…

   Has anyone ever done such a thing without bloodshed, without tears, without loss? 

   His thoughts lead him to Nesta—always Nesta. The most impossible mortal he has ever met. If anyone can alight the universe, it would be her. He knows it deep in his bones. 

   He just wishes she did too. 

*** 

   Nesta wakes first. 

   Through her half-dead haze, she watches Cassian sleep beside her. His breaths are steady and his heartbeat is strong. She can feel it through his tunic, just as she can feel the simmering heat of his body.

   He cradles her in the circle of his arms, his wings an even warmer shroud, and it fills her with both reassurance and unease. There is a feeling that she’s right where she’s meant to be. But there is also a feeling that whatever happens after is out of her control. 

    Perhaps she doesn’t need control anymore. Perhaps she just needs to let go, as she did in the park when they held one another.

    She blinks and memories return in pieces. She remembers the storm and the crack of the earth, like bones splitting. She remembers the silver-white fire and a red bolt of power, rending apart the seams of the sky. She remembers Cassian most of all. The way he called for her. Desperate. Beyond desperate. It was almost mad—the way he chased after her in the dark.

    He is always chasing after her…

    She drinks in his face. Asleep, he looks boyish. Almost sweet. His lashes are thick and his lips, when not curled back in arrogance or swagger, look soft and plump. She imagines him pouting all the time as a child and the image almost makes her grin. This is what he would be, she thinks, if he was not raised in the killing fields. 

   Eventually, he stirs. “Nesta? Are you—?” 

   “You terrify me,” she says.

    This is how Nesta is. She cuts to the heart of things, swift and without warning. Her sisters often compare her to a blade freshly forged or a pillar of steel, daunting and unmovable. Perhaps there is something to that. Still, the thought sparks a pang in her chest. All she excels at is wounding. But she knows nothing else, except to move forward and strike. 

    Cassian raises a brow. The scarred one. The urge to press her lips to it is unbearable and she hopes he cannot sense it. Or if he does, she hopes he will not embarrass her over it. 

    “I terrify you?” he says, finally. 

     Relief sets into her shoulders. Unlike most people she meets, Cassian is used to counterattacks. He does them well. Years of training and discipline have made him formidable. There are enemies who quake at the sound of his name. But she will never quake when he draws near. At least, never in that way. 

     “You terrify me more than anything,” she says.

      He thinks on this. Then reaches for a strand of her hair, a curl that wound itself around her ear. He does it slowly, so that she has time to say no. When she doesn’t, he rubs it gently in between his fingers—fingers that have spilled blood.  

     “You aren’t the first to lay siege to the walls I’ve built,” she says. “I’ve built them carefully, brick by brick. Iron, ice, steel. But somehow, you found a way. A hole. A chink. A weakness. I keep trying to think about when it first happened. If I had to go back to the beginning, it would be that night.” 

     The night at her father’s house. He stills. “I’m not proud of what I did. How I acted.” 

     “Likewise.” She draws a breath. “I used to feel things all the time. Every passion, a death sentence. Then one day, I didn’t feel anything at all. That is until…” 

     She doesn’t need to say any more than that. 

     He shifts and places her head beneath his chin. Her nose is pressed against his collarbone and she can see the whorls of his tattoos. She is very thankful he cannot see her. 

    “I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything,” he says. 

    “I am,” she says. “All the time. I just don’t cower.” 

     He laughs and it warms her better than the hearth. “That is very Illyrian of you.” 

     “Is that a compliment?” 

     She coughs before he can answer, seawater still churning in her lungs. There are other nuisances. Her head spins if she moves too quickly and all her muscles ache as if she has been squeezed through a sieve. Cassian touches her forehead, his eyes drawn with sharp concern. There is a deep furrow there, between his brows, that she hasn’t really noticed before. She does not have a fever, or at least she doesn’t think so. But he isn’t pleased by whatever he sees. So he fusses, rising from the pallet to fetch her draughts and medicines. Even his wings are twitching in agitation. It’s both awful and endearing. 

    “I know you don’t like it,” he says as he watches her drain her tea. “Being taken care of.” 

    “It’s...tolerable when you do it.” 

     “Just tolerable?” 

      “It’s far better than when I had to do it myself.” She sets the cup aside. “Did you know I couldn’t bathe in a tub for months after the Cauldron? I had to use buckets. Lighting fires are hard for me too. It’s the sound…” The sound of necks snapping. Her father’s dead eyes staring at her. 

      Shocked silence. “What?” 

      His exclamation surprises her. Didn’t Feyre tell him? Or Morrigan? 

     “Surely,” she began, “You had some idea? The Inner Circle…they did not say anything?” 

     He flinches. Confusion clouds his thunderous expression. “I…they...”

     Ah. Well. Nesta waits to feel smug or righteous. Her old self would have relished it, twisted the knife deeper. It seems the pedestal you set them on is not so golden after all. There is a temptation to say it; she cannot deny that. To fling those cruel words at him and watch him recoil. But it fades as it soon it crosses her mind, like a shadow of a cloud passing over a winter field. What good would it do to hurt him so? What good would it do to shatter this fragile peace between them? 

     Cassian looks like he might be ill himself. He keeps opening his mouth, struggling to form words. But there are none. Perhaps there never could be. His loyalty to his family is deeply rooted and immutable. No matter what he feels for her, he will never turn his back on his family. She envies him a little for that. Had she ever pledged her life to anything with such devotion? Even her ties to her own sisters have their limits.

    Then she remembers lying over his body at the end of all things. 

    Together…

     She surprises herself when she takes his calloused hand in hers. “I heard you. In the sea. I could...feel you.” She rubs her thumb across his palm, feeling the ridge of a scar there, as though he had fended off another sword by holding it. It’s likely he had. She snorts. “You went after me again. The ever gallant brute.” There’s no sting in what she says. It’s a jest, but it’s also a truth. “You really can’t stay away, can you?   

    “No,” he says, and he closes his palm over hers. “I really can’t. Even if you terrify me too.” 

    “Oh?” 

    “I’m Illyrian,” he says. “So I don’t cower, either.” 

    They sat, facing one another, saying nothing. 

    They are waiting. As always, Nesta strikes first. 

     She kisses him, hard and fierce. It’s without finesse; raw and eager. There is a pause in which Cassian is too stunned to react. “Wait,” he tries to say. “Wait. Should you...should we even…?” 

     “Yes,” she says, though it comes out like a gasp. “Yes, we should.” 

     He does not look convinced, but also does not resist when she rolls him beneath her. She grips his wrists to steady herself. There is less pain and dizziness than before and she is still recovering and there is so, so much more to be said between them. An ocean of atonement and explanations.

     But then, there is also this. And though they could both live on for centuries, moments like this seem to be far and few between. “I would like to be with you,” she said, leaning forward, mouth coaxing his open. “Without the threat of dying for once.” 

     A flush appears on Cassian’s cheeks. He is hot and shivering all over. To have such power over him is heady and makes her feel brave, daring. Like she can do anything. But there is also a reluctance in him, as palpable as a chain. He is keeping himself back.

    “What is it?”  

     He turns his face away, making a sound like choking. Then, she realizes. “You’re not like the others I’ve...,” she says. “I would not discard you. Or regret you. I would not leave you behind. Ever.”  

     She says this with fire, with conviction, as though she is swearing an oath. She watches him intently as the doubt clears from his eyes. But still, he lies prone beneath her. Unsure of what to do next. Could she ever have imagined such a thing? The General Commander of the Night Court Armies...unsettled, hesitant? And yes, she sees it now: shy. 

    So she does something on instinct, and bares her throat to him. 

    His pupils grow wide and dark. She is giving her permission. But she is also rectifying a mistake—the last time he had kissed her throat at her father’s house, the gesture did not end well. This time, she thinks, it can be different. 

    Cassian seems to agree. Something unleashes in him and he mouths at her there, sucking and kissing and marking. She feels the points of his teeth. Gentle and insistent and oh so very delicious. She feels his hands—their hands—running over each other as they pull apart their clothes. There is a driving need to get closer, to feel skin on skin.

    “Why there?” she asks, her breath hitching. “Why always that?” 

    He nips at the crook of her neck, then soothes it with his tongue. “This,” he says, his voice heavy. “This is where I would claim you if…” 

    “If?” 

    He does not look at her. Instead he stops, then buries his head against her shoulder. “If,” is all he answers. It’s all she needs to know. 

    Then, suddenly, a tug. A thread from her rib to his, pulling taut. It did not snap, but it made itself undeniable. They say each other’s names, over and over and over again as they explore each other half-dressed and sweating. They are senseless in one another now. She is fascinated by his hardness, by the way he croons and cries and shakes when she puts her lips around him. She does the same when he puts his lips...there, drinking her down as if she were the finest of wines. Nesta has taken her share of pleasures before. But this is something different. This is a revelation. A dawning.

   “We should eat,” he says, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He kisses her and it is all she can do to not take him inside. To feel his fullness rock within her.

    “I would feast on you instead,” she said. 

    “I have no doubt,” he says. Despite their arousal, they are tired and coiled around each other. Bedclothes strewn everywhere. “But when I take you...and when you take me...I hope to honor you by bringing you some place nicer than this. Where there’s a featherbed and silk sheets and no one else to bother us about some armageddon.” 

    “Hm. That would be nice.” 

     He hums into her hair, now wild and tangled and unbound. “We’ll take it slow.” 

    “Slow is nice too,” she says.

     A pause, and then a whisper: “Come with me. Come with me to the Illyrian mountains.”  

     She knows what he is really asking and is almost too overwhelmed to speak. She can feel that ever-present tug, growing stronger and more absolute with every shared moment. If she jumps from this precipice, she can never go back. 

    But what, really, does she have to go back to? 

    “I would like to spend more time with you,” says Cassian, “Knowing you in this life, finding you in this life, and losing myself in you in this life.” 

    Tears fall. Both hers and his. She holds his knuckles to her lips and kisses them. Something in her catches, then releases. 

    “When do we leave?” 

***

Thank you for reading, my loves.

Tagging these baes: @missing-merlin, @rosehallshadowsinger, @queen-archeron , @mariamuses, @jemma-nessian-and-elriel, @illyrianbeauty, @queenofillea1, @sunsummoner,  @stardustsroses, @urbisie, @hikari274, @dreaming-of-bohemian-nights, @ashlightgrayson, @my-fan-side, @ame233, @vicisbookishblog, @thebitchupstairs, @sannelovesreading, @wearestarseternal, @moonbeammadness, @wolffrising, @a-trifling-matter , @writer-reader-traveller, @tntwme , @fucking-winchester-trash,  @voiceoftheroses, @verifiefangirl, @photofeesh, @maddieimhot, @awesomethreedragons, @fantasy-faes, @mydarlingwhitethorn, @thenameisjaida-blog, @alexisnm95, @leulivy, @managingmischief007, @goldbooksblack, @hashtolanashoba, @wewhohavefailed, @highladyjel, @nerdperson524, @sarcasticsashimi, @tswaney17, @acourtofrosesandbooks, @beelezebub, @rowanismybae, @starlightheir, @city-of-fae, @arwenbk3, @aelins-fire-queen, @azriels-forgotten-shadow, @abillionlittlepieces, @rairrai, @aclass-trash, @cf-mist-and-fury, @maastrash @gabi422, @trmblinghnds, @tea-drinker25, @court-of-fandoms-and-art, @soitsgorgeous, @fireheart-queen-of-ships, @xinyourdreamsx,  @feyaelin-rowsand, @heleneisthehottest-torch, @dreamerforever-5, @mightymorphingayagenda, @theogvodkaaunt, @sjmsstuff, @illyrian-bookworm, @empress-ofbloodshed, @lordof-bloodshed, @faequeenaelin, @secret-lil-rendez-vous, @catwomancabello

If you’d like to be tagged, untagged, or if I forgot to add you because I’m silly, drop me an ask!

Other chapters be found in the Masterlist in my Bio / I am Lady_Therion on AO3

[the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers]

New F/O Introduction (My First OC?)

(picrew here!)

Name: Vazzen Izcraw

Species: “Deal-maker” Demon

Gender: Male

Human Appearance: Amber eyes with dark circles under them, smooth yet fair skin, a stark nose, rounded ears with two piercings, defined lips that are usually pursed in a disinterested line, unlike others of his kind he’s prone to wearing more casual clothes that show signs of being well ‘loved’, stands at a height of 6″6 

True Appearance: Ruby irises with slit-like pupils that always appear to be looking for their next ‘meal’, calloused skin covered in burn scars which give his skin a near crimson tint along with other cuts and bruises most of the time, his nose is stark but out of joint from far more than a few fights, pointed ears with two always changing piercings, a wide grin drenched in smugness and amusement, still prefers his comfortable wardrobe but is more prone to wear finer things in this form, two large and nearly charred looking horns adorn his head (4 inches each), along with two torn up and somewhat scorched wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, stands at a height of 7″1 but with his horns it’s 7″5

Personality: A soul who has a long sleeping fiery temper and mostly acts out of his own amusement. Although if his amusement runs dry (which in most cases it does) he’ll quickly get down to business so he can find something new to keep him occupied. So he’s always cracking jokes with a blunt edge of cynicism to them due to having to deal with the same old same old. Yet if a person manages to catch him off-guard he’ll quiet his ever-present chatter to hear them out till the end. He’s a guy who’ll give what he gets; meaning if you’re a self-centered prick he’ll have no problem returning that attitude but if you’re honest and sympathetic he’ll try his best to share in that spirit even if it is stained with that blunt and darkened outlook a bit

Ship Name: Something You’d Sell Your Soul For

Here’s a rough outline of our first meeting: Shortly after the passing of another loved one when I’m left alone one night and feeling like I can’t reach out to anyone, I have the bright idea of using an Oujia board. I figured the best-case scenario was that I’d contact my recently deceased and let them know I love them. The most likely case would be that I distract myself for a few hours and the worst case is that I summon a blood-thirsty demon who ends up slaying me. In my state of mind, it didn’t matter.

When Vazzen does show up it ends up being a mix of worst and mid-case scenarios since at first for his own shits and giggles he pulls the act of "Do you know what you've done mortal? Your soul is now mine--" 

That is until he's met with this frankly defeated looking girl who simply goes along with it like, "Okay, do you think I can at least get a hug first? Or since I was planning on 'disappearing' anyways could I at least try and sell it so that my loved ones could have a good life?" 

My aura of grief is enough for him to drop his act but hearing my wish for such simple and honest things has him going life, "You'd sell your soul for that? Don't you have friends or parents who'd help with that? Please don't tell me you're an orphan..." 

I’d shake my head warily before tossing it to the side to gestured to the slightly muffled screams outside my closed door. "No, but my bio parents are always too busy fighting and they’d yell at me if I breathe the wrong way at this point. The woman I considered a mom-figure only wants me when I'm a hundred percent happy a hundred percent of the time, and since adults don't wanna deal with my toppling tower of issues. I don't want to bug any of my friends with them... or me since I'm unwell. ...I just want them to be happy" 

"That's fucked..."

Out of his own morbid curiosity, Vazzen continues to subtly pry out each and every problem I have with my life until I'm on the verge of sobbing. Although before I can truly get rid of my pain, I blink away the onslaught of tears and do my best to regain total composure before muttering, "I can't even get worked up because then you won't even understand me!" 

"So you keep it all walled off just for the sake of your 'family'?" He questions as he takes a seat beside my scrunched up stature, his calloused touch gently scratching along my shaking back.

"Yup, because who cares how I feel when even my slightest negativity--" 

"Which is understandable from all you've told me" 

"Is sooooo taxing, they'd just leave me or yell at me, rather than even giving me a simple hug or faked sympathy! I don't wanna be 'selfish' and I really hope that all my issues aren't just excuses, and please don't tell me this 'therapy session' cost me my soul instead because despite everything I do wanna make others happy... I'm trying, but I'm so tired..." 

So at that point, Vazzen's pissed because he's dealt with so many humans who threw away their souls for selfish gain and now I wanna throw mine away to make those like them happy while believing I belong in hell? So to spite what fate has granted me he wants to make me happy instead at first just so I have one current undoubting positive before he takes my soul. But I really am easy to cheer up and he’s received more positivity from me than the past two hundred years of clients. So something starts stirring within his chest and he enjoys our antics and me a bit too much to actually take my soul so he decides to take something else of mine instead...

(Kinda like Little Misfortune meets Beetlejuice meets Beauty and the Beast)

[mai-takeda]

The Voyage Part III ft Mai Takeda & Asande Stormborn

A soft light touched at her senses as slowly her eyelids began to filter open. Mai had not recalled what had taken her to the cot she now felt lying underneath her prone figure. She could still feel the steady rocking of the ship upon the water so knew she still had to be on The Stormdancer. She remembered there had been a fight of some sort? A ship to ship conflict and some boarding. She had fought with her katana in hand and--

Her hand dashed to her side where she had been wounded, bleeding profusely. A white bandage stood there now which had been wrapped around her torso. She was dressed in a loose fitting shirt but still rather revealed to the world around her. A flush dappled her cheeks and she sought to close the white blouse quickly with her other hand. 

“None here but us,” Asande’s voice said. “And I’ve seen tits a’fore. Got a pair of my own that are a might bigger than yers.”

Mai turned her head to the right and found the captain of the ship standing to the side, staring out the window at the water they traveled upon with her back to Mai. Night had fallen but the room they were in seemed to be lit by a pair of lamps holding balls of aether instead of flames. 

“I-I,” Mai stammered looking around. “Are these your quarters?”

“Aye. That they are.” 

Mai noticed the bottle of alcohol in Asande’s right hand which the captain pulled up to her mouth and took a deep drink from. No further words came from the highlander so Mai pressed forward.

“I-I remember we won the day but what happened next? How did I end up here?”

“Oh that tale a simple one,” Asande said before taking another drink. “I had them bring ye here so I can heal ye with some privacy for ye. Tis only right bein’ a guest on my ship and a friend of the family. I tended to the wounds that I could aboard includin’ yer own. We also took some on to refill our ranks and those not wantin’ to join or my crew didn’t trust we sent back to The Black Orchid and left them adrift. They’ll find thur way soon enough. Ye should be right as calm waters in a light’s day now that ye got some rest.”

“Thank you, San’s. I-I didn’t even know I was injured! Well, not until it was a bit late to notice.” Mai saw Asande wave it off though the highlander still had not turned. Mai waited a few heartbeats then asked the question on her mind. “Who is Coldren, Asande?” 

Mai noted the stiffening in Asande at the question but there was no other reaction. The pirate captain took another drink before finally turning to face Mai. The look she saw in Asande’s face startled her enough to bring a gasp. The redness in Asande’s eyes was a look she was familiar with and one she would never expected on this stoic figure.

“Coldren,” Asande said in a small voice. “Captain Coldren.” Asande gave Mai a sad, pained smile. “He was the captain of this ship ‘fore I led a mutiny against his word and call. He...he was also the man I loved like no other ‘fore I put a knife in his side and left him fer dead on an island in the middle of no where. And like the risin’ tide the fucker is back. That who Coldren is.”

Mai blinked in surprise. The revelation was more unexpected than even she could have imagined. Asande had loved someone? This wild and free spirit who seemed to keep any idea of attachment at a distance? 

“Aye, ya have right of it,” Asande said as if answering the thoughts. “He was...somethin’ else in them days past. Everythin’ I thought I would want in a love. Taught me damn near everythin’ he knows.”

“But if he was, umm, well, the man you loved then why, uhh,” Mai made a jabbing motion with her right hand. 

Asande cocked a grin. “Mutiny. A mutiny that many times over I had put down by the crew. Spoke them otherwise by word and my deed to see things right. Until I had enough. Enough of the drunken and drugged man I called my love. Enough of the man that would find way to...to make me feel less than I am. He would use me to his purpose wit’ another crew or even some of that would rather had place him in a dungeon. Used me fer whatever purpose and cared not how it made me feel. I won’t give ye details but let us speak that it made a storm rage in me and the waters were stirred from the nights I shed tears here on these planks.”

Mai’s eyes softened, grown sympathetic and she almost reached out a hand to comfort her friend but the look she saw in Asande’s expression said it was not what she sought. She needed to speak. Not receive a comforting hand or hug from a friend. She needed someone to listen and understand.

“‘Fore Coldren no man could speak word to me and have me do his biddin’ no matter what. No man but Kael that is but he’s me brother and never would ask me to do anythin’ ‘gainst my word. Coldren? No such qualms. He’d do it then apologize and make me feel wretched for bein’ angry ‘bout it. Soon I found myself apologizing! Can ye believe that shite?” Asande shook her head and took another drink to empty the bottle. She tossed it to the side letting it clatter to the floor. “Then one night he had came to ship drunken and on some spice in his head. And he, he went too damned far wit me and I had enough. Tis time I went to the crew who had been tired of him shortin’ their coin and havin’ me fix the shit all the time and agreed to help take the ship fer we lose it to his ways.”

Asande spread her arms wide. The grief still held in her face despite the grim smile on her face.

“And there ye have it. I became captain and been sailin’ wit the crew ever sense.” Asande stopped a moment, her red tear pained eyes looking at Mai. “Be thankful fer it.”

Mai blinked in confusion. She gave Asande a perplexed look.

“That one ye loved that went missin’ on ye. The terror wit da axe? Move on wit yer life, sure as a calm sea. But be thankful fer it. Some of us don’t end so lucky to learn what love wit no consequence is. Pick up yer planks, move forward wit yer life but don’t wallow in misery. Ye had a great moment in yer life there. Learn from it. Be happy ye did and use it to find what ye lookin’ fer so when ye have it ye can make sure the shite don’t get away. Better than the shite I had.”

Silence took the room while the two remained motionless eyeing each other. Mai had been the first to move. Her head slowly nodding in agreement to the words. Soon she was giving Asande a soft, warm smile before saying softly.

“Thank you. I think, well, I think that is rather good advice, San’s and I will take it to heart.”

“Good,” Asande said. “Yer sword is against the wall beside ye. Don’t expect more trouble since we’ll be to port sooner rather than later but ye never know.”

“M-M-My sword?” Mai said slowly turning her head to the right. Leaning against the wall was her sheathed katana, Sword of the Takeda. Her birthright as last child of Hido Takeda. A sword that only seemed to bring death and blood into her life. “I-I think I will not need it. I, umm, I can use the chakram from the lessons. Yes. Yes, I can use that. I-I’m sure the sword needs sharpening anyway.”

Asande stood there watching Mai for a moment then shrugged. “Have it yer way but yer a damn terror with that thing. Better in yer hand than somethin’ ye still learnin’. Hit me wit it and I’m tossin’ yer pretty arse into the water.”

Mai looked back startled but saw the genuine smile on the captain’s face and returned the expression.

“To home then lass,” Asande said. “And no speakin’ this to Kael or Nattai. I will handle that. Tis time he knows what I kept from him. He won’t be happy wit me and I’ll take it. I knew he’d go after Coldren if he knew but somethin’ tells me it can’t be helped now.” Asande gave a long sigh then smirked. “Seems the Stormborn be headin’ to a fight and we always aim to finish.”

“And the blood will continue to flow,” Mai said softly with regret in each word. “Time for home.”

@zhauric Co-writer and player of Asande Stormborn! Oopsie! Forgot the tag :-p

The Voyage Part I 

The Voyage Part II

((THANK YOU for any that kept up with this sucker! Sorry it took long to conclude. We just wanted to set the right tone since this will transition into a storyline for his characters though I may pop in for guest role performances! My salary is still in negotiations as we speak! *snickers* But Mai has her own storyline coming soon! :-p If you read her past stories you should have an inkling of it! Thank you again and feel free to hit me up if you want to write!)) 

[anoutlandishfanfic]

S4 Finale Part One.

So, needless to say, I’m not a fan of how the season four finale handled Jemmy’s birth. I highly recommend reading the book scenes, but I thought I’d do a Show!Canon take on how it should have gone... sort of a best of both worlds. It’s a two-parter, this one being Claire’s POV and the second Jamie’s.

The last three days of our journey were quite possibly the hardest. Not because of the terrain or even the weather, but the knowledge that we were returning empty handed. I was restless, unable to sleep and only wanting to return home to Bree.

Jamie was much in the same mood I was and, without really discussing it, we’d pushed our mounts and ourselves nearly to the point of exhaustion as we covered as much ground as possible. We rose before dawn and only stopped for the night after darkness had fallen in earnest, sometimes rousting in a barn loft instead of a tavern bed. Running on little sleep and even lower expectations of our homecoming, we moved with all haste, the little flicker of hope still burning within me that we would make it back in time growing with every passing mile.

I would be there for Bree. I would be at her side as she delivered, to support and reassure her as she was once again assaulted, this time from the inside out. She would not be alone. She would not be at the mercy of her body while being surrounded by women whose approach to midwifery was closer to the dark ages than it was to modern medicine.

We paused only for a moment as we crested the final ridge and River Run spread out before us in all of its glory. My heart clenched as it whispered the petition I’d heard Jamie repeat in the still of the night.

Lord, let them be safe… both she and the child.

Jamie heeled his mount forward and we galloped together, closing the distance between us and our daughter with as much speed as our horses could muster. My eyes burned with dust we kicked up, as well as the overwhelming need to see her… to hold her in my arms, shutting out the world and it’s harms.

The road widened as the river’s bank flanked us and we closed in on River Run, the busy fields whizzing by unnoticed as I set my sights on one thing and one thing alone…

The front doors.

I watched as they opened and three men stepped out onto the wide veranda, descending the stairs and approaching the gate at an alarming pace. One was easily identifiable as Jocasta’s manservant Ulysses, whom I’d expect to welcome us, but Jamie’s aunt was not by his side. Another, clad in a kilt with stark white hair, was Jamie’s godfather, Murtagh. As we drew closer, I identified the third as Lord John Grey, his posture and fine clothes eliminating all other possibilities.

But what did their presence and Jocasta’s absence mean?

A chill ran down my spine as a great many worst case scenarios played out in my mind and the shadows of L’Hopital began to creep in.

What if something went wrong? What if something was going wrong right now?

I dug my heels sharply into my horse’s sides and we flew over the remaining yards in a full out sprint, Jamie’s mount keeping up stride for stride. The welcome wagon arrived at their destination before we did and Murtagh swung the gate wide, striding through it with arms outstretched to take hold of our horses’ bridles. I was out of the saddle nearly before we came to a complete halt and my feet hit the ground running.

“The midwife is wi’ her,” he informed us, Jamie’s boots touching down moments after mine. “Third door on the left a’ the top of the stairs.”

With this, I was gone, rushing past both Lord John and Ulysses on my way towards the open door. A strangled cry pierced the air as I crossed the threshold, one that made my blood run cold and haunted only the worst of my nightmares.

Brianna.

I began hear voices in conversation as I took the stairs two at a time. Urgent requests jumbled together to form an indistinguishable hum, but it was hers that rang out above the rest, loud and clear.

“Don’t touch me!”

Her words gave me the burst of adrenaline I needed to keep going as I reached the landing. I couldn’t breathe as I surged forward and continued my climb, my heart fully lodged in my throat. Tripping over the lip of the final stair, I reached out and grabbed hold of the banister with one hand to steady myself as I hiked my skirts up above my knees with the other.

I tore down the hall and threw the door to Bree’s chamber open, sending it clattering against the wall as I burst into the room, all but running Lizzie over in my haste. We clung to each other for half a second in attempt to stay upright, the teen shrieking as if I were the devil himself. Letting go, I pushed past her and practically threw myself onto the bed beside my daughter.

Bree was in my arms the next moment and she clung to me, sobbing Mama over and over again.

“I’m right here, I’ve got you,” I gushed.

I knew the room was in uproar behind me, but their noise faded away as I focused on my daughter, examining every inch of her. I smoothed back the curls around her face, wiping away her tears and picking up her harried pulse as my fingertips brushed against her temples.

“It’s alright, luv,” I crooned, taking in her pale face, screwed up in abject terror. “You’re alright.”

My hand dropped to her distended abdomen, assessing as much as I could amid her contraction, then slid to the bunched material of her shift about her hips, pulling the hem back down over her knees.

I heard Jocasta protest from somewhere behind me and cold, foreign hands reached out to undo my actions, pulling at a fist full of cloth in order to bare my daughter to a room that meant her harm. I brushed them away and, with my help, Bree moved until they would literally have to go through me to get to her. A firm barrier now in place, her grip on me loosened and she began to tremble from head to toe as she leaned back against the pillows at the head of the bed.

They’d had her flat on her back — fully prone — with both gravity and raging emotions working against her.  Swallowing my rage, I hushed, “It’s alright, I’m here now... I’m right here.”

“It hurts,” she groaned, struggling to breathe through her pain.

“I know, luv,” I murmured in Bree’s ear, then, turning to look over my shoulder, I raised my voice to address the room at large, “When did her water break?”

Phaedre and a woman I’d never met, but could only assume was the local midwife sat and blinked stupidly at me from their position at the foot of the bed, Jocasta and Lizzie standing just behind them with their mouths hanging open.

“When did her water break?!” I demanded again with greater force, making Lizzie jump.

“Just after tea, Mistress Claire… maybe two hours ago, at most,” Phaedre eventually stammered.

The foul midwife beside her came alive at this pronouncement, her cheeks flaming red as she screeched, “You are placing both Brianna and her unborn child in grave danger!”

“The hell I am!” I spat, turning to face her fully.

Jocasta and this creature were well on their way to killing both my daughter and her unborn child and I was the one endangering them?!

“I am her mother and if you think for one second that I’m going to let you lay so much as another finger on her—“

“Claire!”

My blood pressure skyrocketed as Jamie’s aunt interrupted me, her knuckles turning white as she gripped one of the four posts of the bed for support, “I will no’ have ye speakin’ to Brianna’s midw—“

“I am her midwife and I am her physician and anyone who has a problem with that can fuck the hell off!”

The room fell silent again as I leveled each and every one of them with a look that clearly said I would fight them to the death on this matter. None opened their mouth to object and so I nodded, feeling a measure of satisfaction.

“I am her mother,” I repeated, feeling the cloak of medical command settle across my shoulders once again as I addressed the midwife head on. “I know her best and I know what is best for her… Your services here are no longer required.”

The woman’s mouth opened, but I cut her off.

“No! You will get off of this bed, you will keep your bloody paws off of my daughter, and you will not so much as speak a word to her on your way out.”

Not giving anyone a chance to respond, I turned to Phaedre, “Could you fetch me a change of clothes please? And Lizzie, find Jamie and have him bring me my box… He’ll know what I mean.”

Lizzie ran for the door, calling out an eager aye mistress as she disappeared, but Phaedre remained in her place as she looked to Jocasta and then to the midwife for permission.

“Fine,” I seethed, letting them battle it out as they may. I would simply strip down and work in my shift, if it came to that.

I turned back to Bree and found her nearing the point of hyperventilation, her face as white as the bed sheets. My diverted attention had allowed her to descend into abject panic and I quickly tried to bring her back.

“Sweetie, look at me,” I pleaded, scrambling to her side.

She writhed against the pillows, curling inwards as her uterus tightened it’s iron grip. Her jaw was set and her gaze unfocused, completely absorbed in her pain.

“Look at me, Bree,” I coaxed again, my palm cupping her cheek. “You’re alright.”

I turned her face towards me, but her eyes didn’t follow to meet mine.

“Brianna Ellen, look — at — me!”

She blinked once… twice… three times and a hiccuping cry escaped her, a strangled plea for help as she latched onto me once more.

“There you go, luv,” I encouraged and helped her sit up, settling her a little more comfortably against the pillows.

“Unhand her!” the midwife shouted again. “She needs to be laying down!”

“No, she needs to breathe,” I retorted and my spirit soared as I saw the barest hint of amusement flick across Bree’s face. Leaning forward, I placed a kiss on her furrowed brow and encouraged, “Let’s take this one step at a time, alright?”

Another wordless groan was my answer and I nodded, eagerly accepting any form of communication that she could manage.

“Focus on me, luv,” I coached. “We’ll get through this one and then you can give them their marching orders… and get out of this bed, if you like.”

Bree tucked her chin as her heels dug into the mattress. I rubbed her back, murmuring encouragements as I emulated the breathing pattern I wanted her to take up.

“Good,” I praised as her contraction began to ease and she began to move ever so slightly in the right direction. “That’s the way, Bree. Deep breaths.”

She lifted her head, her eyes clear for the first time as she insisted hoarsely, “Tell me.”

“He’s alive,” I murmured and watched her sag with relief, her head snapping towards the door. I reached to take her hand, pain knifing across my heart as I added, “But he isn’t here with us… he said he needed more time.”

Bree turned back to me and I watched helplessly as she registered what exactly that entailed, her every thought parading across her face. I saw the disappointment, the betrayal, the weight of the unknown crush her into a thousand pieces of broken glass, of shattered hopes and dreams.

“We will take you home,” I assured her, “back to the ridge… where your baby can grow up knowing just how much they are loved and wanted and cared for.”

She nodded, then tipped her head back, her jaw clenching again as tears overcame her. I pulled to me, not letting her descend back into chaos, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, clinging to me as she sobbed.

“Oh, Bree,” I hushed.

How I wished we could have gotten back even just a few hours before we did… so I could have broken the news to her before she’d gone into labor, when we could have talked and cried and worked through the pain of Roger’s rejection together without having to also work through the pain of childbirth.

Rubbing her back, I began to rock back and forth, my instinctual motherly response to Bree’s tears overriding my ability to speak. My tongue was thick in my mouth, swollen with all the things I wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for, effectively choking me as I held my daughter close.

“Da,” Bree hiccuped urgently. “I need to see Da.”

“Absolutely not!” came the rather expected but still vehement objection from the midwife. “To be unconventional in your ways of midwifery is one thing, Mistress Fraser, but to allow a man into the birthing chamber is simply — not — done!”

“He is her father and if she wishes him here, she will have him,” I retorted hotly, wishing Jamie were here to remove her from the room by brute force if necessary.

What I would have given to have him by my side when Bree was born… when Faith was born. My own rush of emotions threatened to overtake me as I glanced over my shoulder to ask of Jocasta, “Would you send for him?”

“Aye… I will,” Jamie’s aunt finally replied after many moments of silence, eliciting another outburst from the fiend.

“I cannot believe that you are allowing this woman to care for your niece in such a manner, Jocasta! Welcoming her back into your home after all that she has done to you is commendable and offering refuge to her disgraced daughter is very noble of you, but I will not stand by and be party to such a catastrophe as this will surely be!”

The entire bed shook as the midwife retreated off of it, pontificating at the top of her lungs with every inch of territory she forfeited, and giving way to the rustle of skirts as Jocasta escorted her across the room and out the door.

“I’ll fetch your things, Mistress Claire,” Phaedre murmured from behind me, the mattress shifting once again as the nimble servant left us. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

“No, thank you,” I assured her, finally turning when I caught a glimpse of her out the corner of my eye, and added mentally,

Only Jamie.

[gluestickcherrybum]

Procrastination Tip #2 - Time Management

Howdy guys! (>w<)/

Quick backstory, I’ve always believed that when we have less time we tend to appreciate it more, so in my university, I took the absolutely lunatic decision in joining and taking important roles of five different clubs just to fill up my mental space. I actually have more reasons for this but i won’t talk about it in this post. So i was a treasurer here, a president there, a secretary in this club and organizing events for that club. I know, its a headache but somehow i manage to plow through everything and still manage to do well academically. I’ve been wanting to share this for a while so here we go.

1. Know your priorities

You’d think academics came first for me, but I put my clubs first because they involved other people and not just myself. I attend almost every single meeting and make room for every club equally. Also other people get upset when you don’t put them first apparently. But hey, keep your objectives in mind when you do anything. Like I said, i had my reasons so I kept to that all the time. Second was academics. Keep track of due dates, assignments and never do things to the last minute and you’ll be okay. I put my hobbies third and before my social life because my hobbies benefit me and act as stress free breaks and I’m kinda antisocial anyway, but you do you. 

2. Time blocking

Now that you know what’s important for you, you can visualize what you need to spend your time on. Make a schedule starting from what time you target to wake up (mine is 4 am) to when you plan to go to sleep (11:30pm). Make a mark at every 30 mins instead of an hour to better divide your time. Now block off the times when you’re definitely occupied such as classes, meetings, dance practice etc. and you should be left with spaces of time when you’re free to do other things. You can fill these spaces with Pomodoros chock full of tasks to accomplish or designate little tasks and set how long you think you should you should spend doing it (ie decluttering my room [10 mins], hanging laundry [5 mins]).

3. The 1.3.5 Rule

If you don’t have a specific schedule for the day like a weekend or when you’re free all day, do not waste it. To inhibit a productive lifestyle, you must be consistent or at least be able to keep up that momentum. But you definitely don’t want to overwhelm yourself by stuffing it with endless chores that would end up demotivating yourself. That’s when you use the 1.3.5 Rule meaning for each day you should do one big task in which if you finish this task, your day will feel complete and satisfactory (ie starting that one assignment, or mopping your whole house), 3 medium tasks to make your day feel better and more productive (ie laundry or revision or smth) and 5 small tasks that should only take a short amount of time to fill up the rest of your day (ie calling a relative, printing out something)

4. DO NOT neglect sleep or eating

This has been something that i desperately try to tell a lot of people, i know some people feel more accomplished because they're actually sacrificing something that seems like a luxury to them. Cut it out. That’s your ego talking. Sleep is important. Period. Some people even think im “carefree” for actually getting enough sleep but no. I sleep because I need it. It’s important. Make sure you eat healthily too. Eat them veggies, you’re not an incompetent 6 year old. Drink that water. Trust me, your body will thank you for it. Plus it will help you work efficiently and your body and focus will work optimally. It’s only damaging to regret these necessities. As well as this, if you’re a Muslim or any other religion will daily responsibilities, please please please, don’t neglect prayers, don’t forget amalan sunnah every now and again because they say if you make time for God, He’ll make time for you (in which for me means im less prone to distractions but Wallahua’lam). (>w<)

5. Know your distractions and yeet them

If you’re as antisocial as I am, then you can definitely check social media off your list ahaha (qwq). Whatever you do in your fun time, whatever de-stresses you and whatever isn't in on top of your to do list is your distractions. Use apps or extensions to limit using your gadgets and restrict them to your break times or reward yourself with them once you check off everything on your to do list. If you’re planning to do them as a break be sure to have time constraints too in case you go overboard. Remember, taking breaks is not the same as giving up on work. If things get too hard, take a breath and keep at it. I believe in you! 

6. Be consistent

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. Consistency is key. If you use a bullet journal, I’m sure you’ve heard of a habit tracker. Frankly, its a spread that keeps track of certain habits to have on the daily. But if you don’t use a habit tracker, the Seinfield Method works just as well. It’s a very similar method devised by the man, the myth, the legend, Jerry Seinfield. Jerry Seinfield is a comedian and he pressures himself to consistently write a new joke every single day. To keep up with this daily habit, he keeps a calendar on his wall with a large red marker beside it. Each day when he wrote a joke, he would mark an X on the calendar. His goal was to not break the chain of X’s on his calendar so to keep himself accountable of his own progress.

7. Find what works best for you

By now you’re probably thinking I’m a complete maniac with calendars and timings and strict habits and all that. Yes, I am a maniac and that is what works for me. For my finals i practically did repeated Pomodoros from 4 am to 11:30 pm stopping only to eat, shower, and pray every single day of revision month before the finals and my roommate thinks i’m straight up insane. Yes, I did lose touch of humanity and that’s why I don’t condone this behavior to anyone. Please find out what works best for you, i find that my head is a bit clearer early in the morning because i’m naturally a morning person, but some people prefer to study in the evening and that’s okay. Find when your brain feels most active and you can work on the harder tasks at that time. UwU

Okie dokie lokie. Sorry for the long post, as usual i try to explain stuff as much as possible. My finals are around the corner so wish me luck QwQ

[camofworms]

List of coping mechanism for various brain stuff

I’m writing this list for me and for anyone who could benefit from it. Please read through this because any of these could help you. Read especially if you are mentally ill. Things to do when you are stuck

-Take a sip of water - Trace your fingers on one hand with a finger on your other hand. From one end to the other. Switch hands. And repeat until you can make more movements. - Splash cold water on your face - Open a window - Hold a dog or cat (do not recommend holding an animal that needs fast action in case of emergencies like reptiles prone to bolting) When you brain is stuck - Count to 100. Count back from 100 - List five things you see. four things you hear. 3 things you smell. two things you feel. maybe one thing you taste. Bring yourself back into reality. ground your self into the now. When you are depressed or sad - Listen to upbeat music - watch a funny movie - List three positive things that happened that day or that week - Really really try to focus on positives. It’s really hard but I promise it helps - Do an activity you enjoy. Depression can make you loose interest in activities you usually enjoy, push yourself to do them anyways. Future self will be grateful that you didn’t give up on those interests. - take a walk. or stick your head out a window - Do something spontaneous and safe - Go outside and scream as loud as you can - Cry. Just let yourself cry. I don’t mean force yourself to cry on command, I mean if you are holding something back, stop holding it.

- If you have a feeling something is causing your mood to drop, grab a pen and paper, or open up a document on your computer. Just type. Type everything that comes to mind no matter how mundane it is. Don’t even have to focus on the emotions or anything. Even if you don’t end up with a reason behind your emotions you might end up knowing what you need at that moment. Please be careful about this though. If you have trauma your not ready to safely face without professional help, you really probably shouldn’t do anything that could trigger you. If you know you need a distraction and not any reasons, listen to your gut. -Hold a warm animal -Remember all the people you know support you.  -Write letters to your loved ones. You don’t even have to give them the letters. Make sure its full of positivety though. Just write about how much your appreciate them.  -Exercise!! Do something enjoyable to you. I rollerblade. It releases chemicals into your body that will help you feel better. Even running down your street full sprint until you can’t breath will help.

Things to do instead of harming yourself (I am speaking from a place of experience) -Doodle -Get paper and just tear it up -Destroy something that you wont regret having been destroyed later. Destroying things you love could be a form of self harm. - Scream -Wrap your head up in something tight like an ace bandage (if you feel like beating yourself up or hitting your head on a wall)

- Call up a friend or message a friend to see if they can be physically with you. -Draw on yourself -Stim (repetitive or ongoing stimuli)

-Grab an old book you don’t care about and draw in the pages.

- Excercise. Yes that sounds fucking awful but make it enjoyable. I rollerblade. When I want to hurt myself I rollerblade as fast and hard as I can until I am out of breath and my legs burn. It hurts, but at least this hurt is beneficial to my health. It also releases a lot of good chemicals in your body that will help you feel better.

Dealing with executive dysfunction (difficulty starting continuing and finishing task. Look more into this because I don’t know how to define it better) - When having difficulty sorting up steps of a task. It’s okay to take time to write down the steps. And break the steps up as as far as you need to.

- Focus on the very first step. Getting up or crossing the room. -Start with something small. Wiggle your legs. Sit up. Or go get yourself a glass of water.

-This is going to sound really difficult and sometimes impossible. You might even tell me it’s prototypical nonsense, and I am not saying everyone can do this. But that wall in your brain keeping you from doing what you need to do? It’s glass. And it can be shattered. Push through it. Literally just do it. Imagine your brain is popping alive and imagine how that would feel and get up. I used to get really angry when people told me to do this but, once I started really trying to recover I realized no actual physical thing is keeping me from doing what I need to do.

- Eat something small like a granola bar or something. Takes a lot of steps and actions to do that but it comes naturally and could get the rest of your body going. -ASK FOR HELP!! I know there are people who laughed at us or got angry at us for asking for help. But if you have a friend, or someone you trust not to make you feel like shit, ask for help. You need help taking your shirt off and your partner or best friend is there? Ask for help. Need help drinking water? Need someone to physically pull you up from bed? Need someone to move a blanket from the front of the door because you can’t figure out how to do it? Ask for help.  You are not annoying. You are not a burden. Our brains are really complicating machines, and at times too complicating for itself to function.

What to do when you can’t breath (Do to panicking or anxiety attack)

- Use grounding techniques. You can research grounding techniques now and save them on a piece of paper that you keep in your pocket. My favorite one is the one I have already mentioned. 5 things you see. 4 things you hear. 3 things you smell. 2 things you feel. You can also count backwards from 100. Count forward by 2s or 5s or which ever number comes naturally. If you need physical touch and someone is available to provide that hug them or have them hug you. Weight and pressure are great for grounding. - All while doing these grounding techniques. Focus on your breathing. One breath at a time. It feels like nothing is being pulled into your lungs but you are breathing. You are okay. You are not dying.

Things to do when you can’t speak. Speaking takes a lot more energy than people realize. There is a lot of brain processing going on to get words out and into verbal sounds that make sense.

-Pull out your phone and type it down. -Come up with a way to symbol to close family and friends that you can not think or speak currently. This could be just a simple hand sign. I used to knock against my head when I was in this mode. -Don’t force yourself to speak, it doesn’t benefit you and causes more stress. -People may want to know whats going on and continue ask if you are okay. It slips from their mouth even when they know you can’t answer. You do not have to answer. Nod, shake your head, you don’t owe them an answer unless you are ready to give it. I have not personally experienced intense paranoia and delusions and do not have advise for that. Talk to people who experience it and talk to experts. I am not an export on any of these things. These are things that have worked for me and others a significant amount to write it down. Not everything on this list will work for you, but you wont know until you try it multiple times. Maybe it will work one time but not another. Please take care of yourself.

Sensory overload

- Get yourself out of the enviroment causing you to over load - Carry emergency equipment specialized for you. Headphones, sunglasses, stim toys, etc - If you are trapped in bad environment because no one will help you. Scream until they help you. Melt down if you need to. its scary as shit when its that bad but this is how i survived highschool. They won’t let me leave the cafeteria? i scream and pull my hair and call them names until they send me to the counselors office. This is last resort for dire emergencies. Because if I didnt scream I would have a meltdown in public anyways. - come up with emergency plans and tell them to those who can put them into action in case of emergencies - ground yourself - sometimes its okay to let yourself go into autopilot. Sensory underload (yah its a thing) - keep stim toys on you - if you feel you need to hurt yourself use techniques above for not hurting yourself - go on a walk - take a shower or bath - do multiple things at once. multi task - loud music - ask a friend to get up and do something with you. like spontanious excercise in the middle of the room. dance. play a fast paste video game. go on a walk with you. go on an adventure - Work on your projects to get into a flow. A term I learned in basic pych class. Essentially loosing yourself in a challenging activity you enjoy.

[vanitysruin]

06. Never mind.

There were plans to be made for Eulmore but they did not need her presence for them yet.

She was in poor shape to contribute, besides: since the mines, it had been that much harder to focus. Sleep had become all but an impossibility. She could not describe it, the way the light slid and swam behind her lids, a borealis that stained everything through and through. Even her hands seemed more star than flesh, interrupted only by the dark silver band around one finger. Her mind was occupied besides, and her heart was tugged back into Rak'tika. The Viis, if they were tracking her trespass, did not reveal themselves to her. Not even the automatons, such strange configurations of stone and magick, did little to impede her way back into the Qitana Ravel.

A voice inside her balked at the thought that she might take comfort in being in such a place: damp and relatively dark, stinking of moss and loam and the faint reek of dead magick. It was a far cry from Ala Mhigo, to be certain, and she would find no material comforts there. Her feet made small, padded sounds as she paced in slow, strained circles. Only the steady dripping of water provided her company. That, and her thoughts.

The murals itched in her memories. Y'shtola's analysis seemed to make sense enough, but it was not enough for whatever madness it was that grew inside Delial. Zodiark, Hydaelyn, there had to be more, even more than what her star-smeared vision could parse from those aged murals. Emet-Selch's words loomed in her thoughts, monumental in a way she could not explain. They remained as yet another source of frustration, a pool of knowledge so vast and dark she could do little but stare down and wonder at just how deep she could go before it drowned her.

She scarcely noticed his arrival. He said nothing at first; the Ascian, too, seemed prone to moods and had grown reticent more often than not. She recognized the cycles in herself: that for all his theatrics, it was merely that, a show to keep his little heroes on track, to keep them on edge, to keep them suspicious but all too intrigued. Typical of him, she thought with such casual dismissal that it nearly shocked herself. When had she become so familiar with him?

Indifferent to her want for solitude, Emet-Selch paced into place beside him, with hands folded at the small of his back. "I take it you have actually given thought to what I've said."

"I know what you are doing," she said.

"Is that so." He sounded bored looking up at the murals, stooped just enough to give him the shape of a man far too old for his skin, his flesh, his bones. "Yes, I suppose you might. Humor me, then. What is it you see?"

Delial could not bring herself to look at him. The image of a city drowning in fire rippled, animated vibrantly through the light in her eye. "You have no reason to lie, so you do not. The truths you feed us are but crumbs of something greater. It would change nothing, in the end. We will see it or we will not. They will not trust you one way or another."

"Hm. And what of you, hero? Are you not a part of them?"

"What a stupid question." That got her a glance out of the corner of his eye. She wondered if the twitch of his lip was annoyance or if he, too, saw how dangerously she shone. "I am convenient and I am tolerated. What a dreadful hero I must be. Not at all what they wanted."

"And yet you serve."

Delial grinned. "And yet I serve."

"You did not quite answer me," Emet-Selch chided, cocking his head just enough to regard her with a single golden eye. "I know, I know, how very rich coming from me. What of you? Do you trust me?"

The mantle of Warrior of Light was a heavy one. She did not say it much if at all but she was truly grateful for the Scions, as much as she grated on them and they grated on her. The matter of trust was an ever delicate balance of nerve and determination and there were times where they left one another wanting. In the end, they supported her in their way. From Primal to Imperial, they guided her hand, for in the end she was by some inexplicable blessing the strongest among them. Champion of Hydaelyn, Blessed of her Light. The eldest and most powerful of Primals. 

Twinned gods mirrored one another overhead, painted black and white. Was it ever so simple as that? Had they been doomed to hate from the start?

"No," Delial whispered. He waited, as if anticipating her hesitation. When had he become so familiar with her? "But I wonder now if it is because I see myself in the things you do, or if it because Hydaelyn loathes you through me."

In another image, Hydaelyn loomed over a fallen Zodiark, the Light besting Dark by tearing its very existence apart. Delial did not notice her vision abruptly growing cloudy or the shaking in her limbs, so stricken was she by a terror that left her heart frozen in her chest. The pieces of her youth were scattered, fragmented, stitched together by Imperial design that she had embraced wholeheartedly, knowing nothing else. It had taken nearly the entirety of her life to shake off the things she knew, to see her country for what it had become, so much so that she could not so much as stand within Ala Mhigo's walls without feeling sick with shame. She bore it all, silent in the wings of Lyse leading the people in song, but she did so thinking it was by her own choice. To consider it and all that had come before it anything but...

Emet-Selch confessed it so plainly. It was a matter of course to be tempered by a god of his own making.

"It cannot be helped," she heard him say. It was all too much, these enormous things the Ascian lead her towards. Her cheeks burned where tears had fallen and Delial swiped at her eyes with her thumbs, foregoing any attempt at subtlety, desperate to reach for the familiar comforts of anger to pull her out of her shame. If Emet-Selch would judge her for that, too, as he had for so many other things, then she would let him have her weakness. To his credit he made no move, and when her eye was clear enough to catch a glimpse of him, he was looking away to the same portrait of Zodiark's fall.

"What do you want from me?"

"The same as anyone else, I wager."

It would have taken everything and more to bend and wrench herself back under control, to try and mold herself back into collected creature she was made to be. He had withdrawn again, sunk deeper into the well, far beyond her reach. It felt petty and infuriating that a man so ancient and powerful as he could behave as such. To make things worse, Delial could not tell exactly why it angered her so. "Tell me plain," she snarled, flinching from the rise in her own voice. "What am I to do with any of this?"

He did not look at her but his head tilted down as his eyes dropped near the cavern floor. She full well expected him to vanish as he often did, slipping away into the dark with a snap of his fingers. He did not. Instead he said, with a calm that only incensed her further, "Survive."

Delial did not realize she had moved until he was boring down at her again, with his lip curled into a snarl of his own. She had dared intrude upon him, to grasp at an arm she did not even know she could touch, to force him to look down at her. She wondered if it burned him to be so near, to be faced with a vessel so overflowing with light she was moments from ruin. "And will I? Can I?" Fury tore through her, burning up every thing she'd kept in check, mere kindling to a fire that could not hope to last for much longer. "They all dance around it! Around me! I want-- I need to know the truth. You know it as well as I do, don't you?"

There was nothing kind about Emet-Selch and he did not deign to pretend otherwise. Even retrieving Y'shtola from the Lifestream was but a transaction, albeit one given in good faith. There was no kindness in his eyes, narrowed and calculating. It was foolish to think she might garner understanding from an Ascian, from an ancient thing moved only by the whims of his broken god. She could not allow herself to think the pained grimace that bared his teeth as anything but annoyance. "It depends upon you, hero," he spat in measured, sullen tones. Then, abruptly, he was gone. Her hand gripped nothing, her stare met Hydaelyn's, her caricature on the stone.

"And for what little it may be worth," came Emet-Selch's voice from behind her. "I pray that you do. It is what you do best, is it not?"

And then she was alone.