#COME ON CANNONEER ITS THE LAST STRETCH KEEP YOUR HEAD ABOVE THE WATER YOU CAN DO IT

[robinlmaoo]

Okok…

If cannoneer wins i will draw BOTH of em in the gay coconut pants. Deal or no deal?

Its these pants if you dont know what were talking about!

Also. They literally have the best emote ever. Like come on look at them go, LOOK AT THEM GOOOO

(clip was taken from here!)

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Some Semblance of a Man

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31716874

Kaz

Kaz Brekker was always looking for a challenge, for the next rival to ruin, for the next near death experience. He’d learned quickly that sitting idle in The Barrel got you killed and he’d been running ever since. But with Pekka gone, Inej and her parents reunited, and the Council of Tides temporarily abated, Kaz was beginning to realize there was nothing else for him to do but wait.

Of course, there were the day to day activities, he still had The Crow Club to run, he still had slavers to gather information on. But after everything he and the Dregs had been through recently, those tasks seemed trivial. He didn’t want his crew to think that just because he’d come into a bit of money that he had gone soft, and he didn’t want rumor spreading throughout the Barrel that Kaz Brekker was getting bored. Without his crew around the Slat, Kaz had to find other ways to pass the time, and for the sake of maintaining appearances, Kaz would walk the streets at night, pretending to look at his watch, pretending to trail a random person, or spreading rumors. Sometimes he would walk to The Menagerie and think of what it would look like burned to the ground.

That’s where he’d been tonight, with a gentle mist of rain turning the cobblestone to mirrors, pools of colored lights spilling out across the street. There were few people out, the rain enough of a nuisance to make them think twice about spending their coin in gambling halls and pleasure houses. Despite the hour growing ever later, the Slat was teaming with life when Kaz returned, the air smelled like alcohol and sweat, the newer additions to the crew were trying to have a conversation, which had mostly devolved into shouting over the out of tune cacophony of voices singing drunkenly across the bar. Kaz bought a round for everyone, though he knew the chance of anyone here betraying him in favor of another gang was slim, keeping his crew happy with a bit of booze usually made his job a little easier. Besides, the longer the crowd was down here, the longer he had for some quiet of his own, in his room on the fourth floor, where the voices did not carry.

Kaz held his breath as he started his climb up the stairs, it was never easy, but Kaz valued the privacy and protection afforded by his room more than he worried about the pain. He bolted the door behind him, leaning his head against its frame and biting his lip as he massaged the twitching muscle of his thigh. He stretched, rubbed a knot from his neck, and reached for his hat.

He paused, the pattering of raindrops puncturing the peace. “Won’t Jesper and Wylan be missing their Wraith?” Kaz asked his empty room, his back to the window, hiding his smirk. He moved slowly, hanging his hat on the doorknob and turning around just in time to watch Inej swing gracefully from the rafters of his ceiling and drop down to his bed.

“No, they’re going over the books tonight, so they’ll be busy for a few hours at least,”

“Wylan’s books take hours to go over?” Kaz asked, leaning against the wall to take the weight off his bad leg.

“No,” Inej replied “But the boys tend to get distracted by...paperwork and usually have to start over,”

It took Kaz longer than he’d ever admit to understand her meaning, but once he had he merely quirked a single, bemused eyebrow at her. Something hungry and desperate twisted its way through Kaz’s stomach when Inej smiled wryly back at him, her eyes flitting to his collar. “What business?”

“I’ve been reading up on cannons.” Inej began, her face a picture of concentration. “Specht and I are going to be taking a few people we’ve been eyeing for our crew out on the water sometime in the next few weeks to practice. We aren’t going far, just far enough to where the cannon fodder won’t send other ships into a panic. We want to see if they can work well as a team before we commit to hiring them.”

“A wise decision,” Kaz agreed, ignoring the way his heart seized within his chest. It made him happy she would have her freedom, but the thought of losing her to the sea always left an ache.

“I wanted to extend an invitation to you,” the confidence Kaz had grown so used to seeing in Inej’s shoulders melted away, she pulled out a knife, turning it over in her hand. “to join us on that trip. I thought you might want to be there to ensure your...investment is taking form the way you’d hoped it would,”

“It wasn’t an in-” Kaz swallowed the rest of the sentence. It wasn’t an investment. He thought, don’t you know this was all for you? “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long, a day, maybe two.”

“When you have the dates secured, let me know, I’ll see if I can make the time,” He knew already he would make the time.

Inej nodded, a glint of something in her eye “And you? What business?”

“I have a job for you,” Kaz took this as an excuse to get closer to Inej, moving toward his desk and stretching out his leg. “I recently came into the possession of some ledgers,”

“You can use the word ‘stole’ Kaz, I’m not the stadwatch ,”

“They have the names of all the ships that have docked in the harbor, the captain, and their cargo,” Kaz continued, “I was looking through it for leads on slavers when I noticed something,” Inej untangled her limbs, and pushed herself upward, walking over to Kaz’s desk. Kaz had forgotten how comfortable it felt to have her by his side. “There’s a ship that keeps appearing, but it never stays for long. It docks at last light, and it departs first thing in the morning. I’ve looked at the dates of it’s arrival,” Kaz handed Inej the first of the ledgers, she took it from him without a word, scanning the pages in search of the same patterns he had found.

“The Sankta ?” Inej hissed and Kaz could hear the disgust on her tongue.

“I thought that might catch your eye,” he opened another ledger, pointing to the name of the ship and the dates it had docked in Ketterdam. “It comes in every six months or so, and when it does the population in the Barrel always seems to increase. The clubs start advertising more heavily, the pleasure houses start getting more traffic,”

“You think they’re smuggling people into the city?”

“I don’t know for certain what they’re trading, the ledger has different cargo listed every time. And the Captain...I’ve never heard of them before.” Inej placed the ledger in her hand back down on the desk, leaning in closer. Her braid fell down across her shoulder, barely an inch from Kaz’ face. Focus . “If the pattern holds they should be docking here in-”

“Three days?” Inej finished for him, reaching for the second ledger. Her fingers brushed against his gloves, her forearm against his jacket. Kaz lost all sense of time and place, despite the warmth of the room and the floor beneath his feet. One second he was in the Slat and the next he was cold and drowning. Inej was saying something, something like “tell him”, maybe? But he wasn’t quite sure, there was cotton in his ears, his heart was in his throat. There was water rising around his ankles.

“Kaz?” He heard her voice, far off, like a siren calling him to shore. He did not trust himself to speak, as it was he struggled to find breath “Kaz!”

He slammed back into himself, pressing one hand flat against his desk, wrapping the other around the head of his cane so tightly his knuckles went white beneath his gloves. Solid wood and solid metal, no flesh or water in sight, this was always how it went. The place beside him where Inej had been was empty, she had retreated, pressed herself up against the wall, her hands behind her back.

“I’m sorry, I-,” Kaz would have done anything to wipe away her guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t mean to-”

“I wasn’t prepared,” he said, unable to look her in the eye, to admit to the weakness they both knew that he carried.

“I know,”

“I didn’t expect-”

“I know,” Inej interrupted. “Does the Sankta change the Berth it docks on?”

“No,” Kaz would never have the words to express the gratitude he felt at her diversion. He turned slightly in his seat, pretending to study the documents in front of him. Pretending like every cell in his body wasn’t honed in on Inej. On the way she was looking at him, distracting him once again with talk of plots and schemes, intangible actions that would let him fly high above the harbor he was drowning in. “It uses the same Berth every time.”

“Do we know who that dock belongs to?”

“It’s paid for by the Council, it’s designated for public use,”

“I’ll see what information I can gather,” Inej said and Kaz nodded, trying to force the image of Jordie out of his head. “Goodnight, Kaz,” Inej whispered after a moment, and though he did not hear her footsteps, he felt her absence immediately.

Where the water had been, regret replaced it. He balled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. “Wait!” he called out after her, turning around slowly to not seem overeager. Inej was frozen, partway out his window. He felt picked apart with the way her gaze fell upon him, her eyebrows knit together, her face desperate and searching. Whatever unease still lingered in the center of his stomach, whatever terror still wrapped around his ankles, it fell away at the sight of Inej, sitting here on his window sill, backlit by moonlight and held up by hope.

At some point the fear of what her touch would bring him was dampened by his need to hold her close. He was broken and crooked and the most unworthy man, but he needed Inej to know it wasn’t her fault. Wanted her to know that he was trying to push the pieces of himself back together, into someone, something she would not be ashamed to love.

When Kaz and Nina had broken into the morgue all those months ago, he had powered through his fear with thoughts of Inej; the warmth of her skin, the sound of her voice. But as every second in that room of corpses passed them by, Kaz had forced Inej from his mind, not wanting to taint his memories of her with the scent of death. Kaz had believed for so long that the foolish little boy he had been had died in the harbor, but as his eyes fell upon Inej now, he knew he had been wrong. He had carried Kaz Rietveld with him every day of his life, and had pulled that doe eyed little fool to the surface on the back of his brother’s bloated body with every touch since then.

He’d learned very quickly what it meant to be weak in The Barrel. The Barrel starved, and beat, and stole all the kindness and compassion and love out of those unlucky enough to build a life inside it. Weakness got you killed, so Kaz had buried his weaknesses so deep they had turned themselves into shadows. He had kept them there in the dark for so long they had grown claws and teeth, they had become so rabid, so feral that Kaz was finding it harder and harder to keep them locked away.

But maybe he didn’t have to anymore. Because now he had the Wraith, he had Inej, and Inej made him strong. Inej made him wish for things he had convinced himself he could never have. Perhaps if he tried it, if he tried it enough, to touch her, to put her hand in his, to let her rest her head against his shoulder, to...to kiss her, he could finally put the little boy in the harbor to rest. Yes, he would drown his fear beneath the tidal wave that was Inej, he would burn away the memories of corpses against his flesh with the warmth of her skin against his.

“I want to try again,” it pained him to admit to it, it thrilled him to have said it. Kaz failed to keep his heart beat steady when Inej planted her feet firmly back into his room, and closed the window.

“Try what again?” she asked, stalking forward until there was nothing more than breath between them. Kaz studied the head of his cane, his skin prickled with the thought of what she’d feel like in his hands.

“I-” He dared a glance at her, she was ethereal, she was calculating, she was Inej and the rest of Kaz’s wish was lost with his nerve.

“Kaz, tell me,” Inej leaned forward, Kaz leaned back. He clenched his jaw, locked himself away behind his mask. “Tell me what you want,” He could feel the way she looked at him, like she’d created her own gravity and he’d collapsed beneath it. But he couldn’t make himself form words, it had taken everything he’d had to say something the first time, to show her such weakness again would surely break him. When Inej spoke there was an edge to her voice that was sharper than her knives. “Say it, Kaz. For once in your life just...say what you’re thinking. There is no one else here but us. There’s no one else to see you, to hear you treat me like you actually care.”

Kaz hung his head in shame, it was a fair blow, but that didn’t stop him from shattering into a million pieces at the acknowledgement of all the times he’d failed her. “I want to take my armor off.” He forced himself to meet her eye. “I want to beat this, I will beat this. Will you help me?”

They’d done this little dance for months now, the day on the docks, when he’d shown Inej her ship, he’d managed to hold her hand for a whole five minutes without sinking below the waves. He’d tried a couple times since then, with various levels of success. Some days he’d managed to throw his arm around her, others just the thought of her face caused him to tug on his gloves.

“Of course I’ll help you, Kaz, you only had to ask,” Kaz committed that smile of hers to memory. “Are you ready?” Inej asked.

No. Kaz steadied himself and straightened his posture “Yes,”

They started slowly, Inej resting her palm on the back of his gloved hand, Kaz took a deep breath, he could do this, he was fine. Inej’s fingers curled around his hand, she pressed their palms together. Kaz pushed the water away. She laced their fingers together, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?”

“Fine,”

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,”

Kaz wasn’t sure what kind of sound he made when Inej began to tug the gloves from his hands. She froze, looking up at him, reading him the way only she could. She dropped her hand, Kaz wanted to reach for it, but he let it fall away. “I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“No, it’s- no one else ever has,” Kaz cleared his throat, biting back a smile at the way Inej’s cheeks flushed. Tentatively, Inej continued, it took a lifetime to complete her task, it took a second. The metal of his cane was cold against his fingertips, for the first time in a long time it no longer felt comforting. He reached out with his other hand, and gently Inej took it, her palm against the top of his bare hand. It felt like fire, but Kaz preferred the burn to the icy harbor he had always known. His breath caught in his throat, Inej continued until their hands were pressed palm to palm.

“Breathe,” Inej whispered, Kaz exhaled and peace rushed in to fill his lungs. She interlaced their fingers, the water started in. Think of her . Kaz clenched his jaw. Think of that day at the docks . Kaz faltered when Inej wrapped her other hand around his wrist, the one that held his cane. He thought that she might pull their hands away, and though he was not a man of faith, he thanked every Saint he knew that she kept her hold on him.

She repeated the pattern, gripping his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder with all his layers on. He kept his breathing purposeful, controlled, his eyes trained on the wall for fear he would look at Inej and see a corpse standing in her place. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his chest, he hoped she could not feel his heartbeat. He nearly lost his footing when her arm went to his waist. He was impossibly warm, sweat had started beading at his temples, he gripped his cane a little tighter.

Inej released his hand and a weight Kaz hadn’t realized was upon him disintegrated in his chest. But it returned in a flash when Inej began to pull off his coat. “Saints,” he whispered. “Why won’t it stop ?” he hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t meant for it to send Inej shuffling backward, too far away for him to grasp.

“It takes time, Kaz,” Inej replied, tossing his coat on the bed, taking a tentative step forward, then another when Kaz responded in kind. She brushed her fingers against his shirt sleeve at the wrist, it was an apology and a question. “You can’t kill this kind of monster in a day,” she traced a line up to his elbow. “It took me months,” Inej said, so simply that it knocked his world out of alignment and he had to take a step backward to right himself. Inej reacted on instinct, clutched his shoulders to make sure he did not fall.

“I’m not strong enough,” Kaz blurted out, hoping that if he spoke, he could force the feeling of rotting flesh out of his mind. “I’m not as strong as you,”

“That’s not true,” Inej ran her fingers across his chest and down to his waist. “My weakness just wasn’t visible, yours is,” she unbuttoned his vest, Kaz hadn’t even noticed and the implication of that made his stomach do a somersault. “When someone touches you, you are present, aware.” She continued her pattern, hands going back to his wrist, making sure he could anticipate where her next move was going to be. “Me? I disappeared,” Kaz caught her eye, and threw his thought away. He refused to pity her, he knew she wouldn’t want that. “I looked calm and collected, but no one knew what it was doing to me, to shake their hand or have their arms around me,”

She smiled at him, unrestrained and brilliant, and he looked down to realize he had his hand upon her waist, her arms wrapped around his in kind. This felt like a victory, it felt like a curse. Against the roughness of her jacket, his hand began to tremble. She stepped away, he didn’t want her to, but it was exactly what he needed.

“Your tie,” Inej stated, and Kaz could have worshipped her right then, for understanding that if she had brought her hand up to his neck, he might not survive the evening. He undid his tie, though the tightness in his throat did not relent. He unbuttoned his shirt, hoping that the action would steady his hand. He was feeling light-headed but he wasn’t drowning...yet. He wiped the sweat from his brow, ran a hand through his hair, forced his anxiety out with a breath. He had never gotten this far with her before.

Inej repeated the rhythm: wrist, elbow, shoulders. Her hand was Jordie’s hand, her flesh was Jordie’s flesh. His chest, his waist. The waters started rising, coming in with the strength of a flood. Inej could sense the change in him immediately, “Tell me about the tattoo,” Inej said, he did not want her hand on him anymore, he needed it to stay so he could keep trying. He knew why she was asking, she knew he needed a distraction, and he chuckled darkly because she did not know that this particular question serveed an opposite purpose.

“Not tonight,” But someday .

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,”

Her hand has been in his for seconds, minutes, days, long enough that Kaz let himself hope that one day he could be rid of this. This ghost of his brother, the phantom of his skin, slipping underneath his hand, his chest, his face. Carefully, never breaking eye contact, Inej brought his hand up to her lips, Kaz focused on his breathing, on the moonlight spilling across Inej’s plait. Kaz tasted salt on his tongue, no not salt, iron. His vision went blurry, and he lost the shape of Inej as a result. This was unbearable, but he was desperate for more, it was easier this way. Feeling her lips against his skin, instead of her skin beneath his lips. She pressed another kiss to the creases of his palm, to his wrist. This felt nothing like a corpse, but the traces of her lips burned like ice, like water.

“I never asked you,” Kaz began, relaxing the tension in his jaw “Are you okay with this?”

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing,” she whispered against his forearm, lips brushing the dark ink of his Dregs tattoo. He flexed the hand that held his cane, releasing some of the stiffness in his knuckles. She continued her familiar path across his body, through the smoke of Reaper’s Barge Kaz noticed she took care to avoid the R tattooed to his bicep when she kissed him there.

His whole body was alight, electrified, dying. He could smell death in his nose, he could feel the warmth of Inej’s body wash over him. He was tired, he was treading water, knowing any minute he could drown. He saw Jordie’s face, swollen, purple, eyes cloudy, No. He thought of Inej, of her laughter, her smile, of her voice whispering his name. Kaz Rietveld and Kaz Brekker were at war with one another, and right now, he wasn’t sure who would win. He should tell her to stop, but he didn’t want her to.

Inej took another step in, her hands balling into fists. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing . She had just told him that, but he saw her now, saw how tightly she carried herself. He’d been so caught up in his own head, he hadn’t realized she’d been trying to shed her armor too. She leaned in, and Kaz was back in a hotel bathroom, she paused mere inches from his chest, sucked in one shaking breath, and ran her lips against his collar bone.

The current pulled him under; Kaz Rietveld had won again. Sudden, uncontrollable panic seized within his chest, snapping the leash to which he tied his weaknesses. They ran him over, all snarls and teeth and claws, turning him into something wild and furious. Before he could control himself, before he was even fully conscious of what was happening, he had flung his arms outward, pushing Inej away from him. “Stop,”

Inej, working to quiet her own demons had not been expecting this outburst from Kaz, she lost her footing, stumbling backward, and though she did not fall, Ghafa’s never fall , she did slam the back of her knee into the hard metal of Kaz’s bed frame. Inej cried out, more out of shock than out of pain. Desperation, horror, fury, regret pulled Kaz further under, the room was spinning, the moonlight hurt his eyes. Kaz caught himself on the edge of his desk, fumbling frantically for the waste basket he kept there, the cold metal of it in his hands bringing the briefest moment of comfort before he was vomiting up his dinner.

“Kaz?” Inej’s voice was sturdy, grounding, calm, but he could not turn to face her.

Inej

Kaz Brekker had gone by many names, and Inej had heard them all, whispered fearfully through the streets of Ketterdam by cowardly men. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. Inej had spent so many nights on this city’s rooftops, seen only by the stars, listening in on the conversations that twisted up to her like crow feathers in the wind. She knew what people thought of him, he held a place amongst the most dangerous and feared of men. To some he was a bogeyman, to all he was a threat. And though she had seen him do terrible, violent things it still sent a sharp bolt of surprise crackling through her body whenever she heard the word “monster” following his name.

That monster stood before her now, leaning against his desk. Trusting her enough to turn away, to leave himself defenseless in her presence. Not trusting her enough to show his face. He was sweating, and in the light that spilled from the lamp upon his desk, Inej could see his hands twitching with the slightest tremor. She knew he was slipping, knew he was trying desperately to pull his armor on. But she was not here for Dirtyhands, and she had no time tonight for bastards. She thought about those names, the truths they carried with them. Could they really be titles for the man she was watching now? A boy who could not look her in the eye? No, the person that stood, half naked and shaking in this tiny little room, was neither of those things. This, she realized, this was simply

“Kaz,” she tried again.

“Leave,” and if she had known him any less she would have thought that he was serious.

“No,”

“Inej,” She was never sure how he could do that, how he could make her feel coveted and worshipped just by saying her name “ please ?” and his voice became a quiet, broken thing.

“No.” She said again, gentle as the breeze “I will not leave you, not like this,”

“I don’t want to see you,” it wasn’t a lie,

“You did great, Kaz, you’re making progress, ” and so was she, though she wasn’t sure Kaz realized it.

“Inej, get out,” he hissed, as if it hurt him to say the words.

“Why?”

He stiffened, and she bit back a smirk he hadn’t been expecting that . “I-” he hung his head.

She knew he didn’t have a reason, not one that he would admit to anyway “Is it because you don’t want me to see you like this? Because you’re worried you can’t give me what I want?” She tried to dampen the delight that bubbled in her chest, when she watched blotches of red blush paint the back of Kaz’s neck and spill down across his shoulder blades. “Is it because you feel ashamed?”

Kaz screamed with a rage she had seen up close only twice, a wild, guttural thing. When he got like this, destruction usually followed in his wake. As if on cue, Kaz slammed his hands down on the table, sweeping everything that rested there- every half drawn blueprint, ledger, and plan -onto the floor. His lantern tumbled with it as did a small wind up dog toy Kaz always kept sitting at his desk. The force of their impact caused both to shatter, sending pieces of glass and metal skidding across the hard wood floors. The paperwork took longer to fall, floating gently in the air around him like snow.

Kaz finally turned to face her, fury exploding behind his eyes. He wanted a fight, but Inej would never give him that satisfaction. When the dust settled, the anger that had possessed him had begun to burn low, confusion taking control of his posture and his brow when he finally saw Inej.

She had crossed her arms and tried her best to look bored. Based on his reaction it may have been working. “You can’t scare me away, Kaz,” It was the wrong thing to say, but it’s what he needed to hear.

The fire that flickered behind his eyes turned to ice, “I am the Bastard of the Barrel,” Kaz spit, stalking toward her, making sure to punctuate his words with the tapping of his cane against the wood. “I brought down Pekka Rollins, I conned Jan Van Eck, I broke into the Ice Court and made it out alive. Men run when they see me coming, parents tell their children I’ll steal them away in the night if they do not behave.” Kaz only stopped when her back was to a wall. He wanted her to feel cornered, he wanted her to feel trapped. On any other night, that may have worked, but she knew this was an act, and she had maneuvered herself so she was near the window, and he hadn’t seemed to notice.  “I scare who I damn well please,”

Inej could not hold back anymore, she hadn’t meant to do it, but she started to laugh. “That’s good,” Kaz blinked in surprise, his posture shifting, his grip loosening on his cane. She took a step forward, he took a step back. “I can see how that would work on most people. But I know you Kaz. Sure, you took down Pekka and Jan Van Eck...with help,” she took another step forward, reveling in Kaz’s retreat. “But you’ve also fainted in a carriage, nearly drowned in Djel’s river, and got embarrassed when Jesper’s Dad caught you two in a fist fight.” Kaz ducked his head to hide the redness rushing to his cheeks. She took another step forward, he ceded his territory. “You got good at palming cards and picking pockets not because you planned for a life of crime, but because you like magic tricks . You’ve lost a hat in every corner of Ketterdam,” Kaz lost his footing, his knees buckled beneath him, sending him tumbling onto his bed. With nowhere left for him to go, Inej smirked, and leaned in just far enough so he could hear her whisper. “And, when you wake up in the morning, your hair sticks up to one side. Jesper and I pretend not to notice, but we both think it’s adorable,”

Inej spun gracefully on her heel, gliding back towards the window, because she was not cruel and did not want Kaz to suffer...she didn’t want Kaz to suffer much . Kaz glowered at her, but seemed to otherwise have calmed. “You know,” Inej said when the silence grew too heavy. “I’ve been afraid of a lot of people since I came to Ketterdam,”

“Even Jesper?” Kaz asked eventually, she could tell from the cadence of his voice he was exhausted.

“Especially Jesper” Inej trusted Jesper with her life, he had brought so much chaos and joy into her world. But he was kind and charming in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Inej had had too many clients come to her, all smiles and compassion. Jesper scared her because she knew what kind and charming men could do. Kaz flinched and looked away.

“But not me?”

“No,” Inej wanted to touch his cheek, to smooth the worry that lined his forehead “Never you,”

Slowly, deliberately, Kaz stood. Inej’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes met his. He looked paler than usual, and maybe a little green, but his hands were still, his stance was steadier. He had locked his thoughts away, no emotion showing on his face, but there was a shine in his eyes Inej had seen before, when Kaz was trying to let go of hope. He quirked a single eyebrow at her, a challenge.

“I’ve been scared for you,” she admitted. “I’ve been scared to disappoint you, I’ve been scared of what it would do to me to lose you.” Inej stepped forward, already knowing what would happen, knowing that Kaz, having slipped away once already, would take a step back. But instead he stood rooted in place, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his cane.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve never looked at me the way everyone else does.” She considered the weight of the words on her tongue. “One day at The Menagare would have been enough to show me what kind of place Ketterdam truly was, and I spent a year inside it’s walls. I’ve collapsed beneath a million broken promises, but never yours. I’ve heard a million gentle lies, but never from you. I have felt a million….unwanted hands,” Inej wanted to shrink away into the shadows, but she refused to show her weakness, she refused to look away. Like magnets they were pulling toward each other until they were sharing the same air, until they were standing as each other’s equals in the center of the room. Inej held out her hand, not a demand, not a question, but a wish. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest when Kaz, without a moment’s hesitation, took her hand. He clenched his jaw, and drew a soft line across her palm with his thumb, it was a certainty, it was a promise. “But never yours,”

Kaz cleared his throat “I haven’t been scared of anyone since Jordie died,”

“Not even Jesper?” Inej teased, because she didn’t know what else to say.

Kaz bit back a smile “Never Jesper,”

“Not even me?” It was another joke, because she’d wanted to see more of that smile.

His face fell into something powerful and serious “I’ve always been scared of you, Inej,” she knew how much it must have taken for him to have admitted it. “From the moment you snuck up on me with bells on,”

“Really?” she could not hold the joy she felt at bay, it spread throughout her body, warming her all the way down to her toes.

Kaz nodded.

“But I was nothing then,”

“You have always been something.” Kaz corrected. “Back then you were Silence,”

“And now?” her eyes kept falling to his lips.

“You…” Kaz continued, leaning down, sending Inej’s heart into a frenzy she was worried she could never tame “should be going home,”

Inej scoffed, Kaz’s walls slipped down just long enough to let a small chuckle pass his lips. She would tuck that away in her memory, a look into the boy he could have been, a minute of vulnerability all for her. “That’s not fair! I told you mine!” If it had been Jesper standing in front of her, Inej would have backhanded his shoulder. But this was Kaz and he had done a lot tonight, she didn’t want to push her luck. Especially when she was enjoying this feeling of his hand in hers, she wasn’t looking to ruin it. “Come on Kaz,” she whispered, “why are you scared of me?”

He chewed his lip, and she could see the gears turning in his head, the debate he was conducting. Should he tell her the truth? Or keep his feelings a mystery and send her away. She was getting tired of being sent away. “Because I trust you.” Kaz said. “Because, you make me want to tell you everything. We deal in secrets, Inej, because we know that information can be more valuable than money. You’ve learned my patterns, you know my mind, you could unravel everything I have built with a single word to the right person,”

It was true, but it hurt. She pulled her hand from his, and regretted it. “You think that I would?”

“No,” he said it so fast, so sure that it knocked the air out of her lungs, it tore her voice from her throat. “And that is why you scare me. Because I know that thought has never crossed your mind.” He tugged gently at the bottom of her braid, twisting it around in his fingers. This was a system they had worked out months ago, for when Kaz wanted to be physical but the feeling of her skin was too much. “You are kinder and stronger than I will ever be and I am scared that-” he dropped her braid, placed both his hands atop his cane, and broke eye contact. “I am scared that you will finally see yourself for everything you are and know I am not worthy of your time or loyalty.”

“Kaz,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Because she couldn’t say I love you . The tension in the room, the cord that pulled the two of them together, was severed by the tolling of a clock.

Kaz broke first, eyes skirting to the city stretched out below them. “Goodnight, Inej,” he whispered, his voice rougher than usual.

“Goodnight,” she managed, slipping out of his window and vanishing into the night. Kaz watched her go until he could not feel her presence any longer, then he turned, and started picking up his mess. When Kaz woke the next morning, his heart stuttered in his chest. Sitting in the middle of his desk was a brand new wind up dog toy and laying next to it, reflecting the early morning sun was a geranium made out of glass.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (5) || atz

“You need to eat.”

Seonghwa nudges a bowl of fish stew towards you. It's piping hot and steaming, you cradle it gratefully with your fingers.

Since you’ve woken up in San’s cabin a few days ago, you’ve taken a few days under the Treasure’s healer’s care to recover from the fever brought on by your infection. San has been nothing but kind to you, even allowing you to sit in the sickbay and watch him while he tends to patients.

Many of the pirates come in and out for check ups on previous wounds, a healing sword gash, an amputated finger. You watch the healer bustle about at work, speaking in a soft, quiet tone when tending to them and making silly jokes to distract them from the pain. His dimpled smile and silly behaviour is somewhat familiar to you now, you can even recognise his whistling from the cabin. Maybe it’s because he is the only person you have on this ship, so you stick to San’s side as much as possible.

The Treasure has already left the cove, sailing out into the open sea once more. San tells you that they are sailing along the coast of Hispaniola to reach Tortuga, but these waters are close to the pirate town Tortuga and the Royal Navy fleets patrol the area to sink any unsuspecting pirates. Their captain has chosen to stay further from land, where the Navy’s fleets can conceal themselves from sight and carry out an ambush on them.

When San brought you onto the main deck the last few days so you could stretch your limbs and breathe some fresh air, all you’ve seen for miles is blue, unending ocean. Being able to walk freely on deck with San’s conversation instead of Mingi’s watchful eye is one of your few joys on this ship.

Today, however, San wants Seonghwa to bring you onto deck.

Your chest is bound, of course, and San swears that no one else on board besides him knows that you are a woman. Women are considered bad luck on ships, and even though San has reassured you that Hongjoong doesn’t believe in silly superstitions, you’d rather not give him another reason to toss you to the sharks. San has agreed to keep your secret, but still, with Seonghwa supporting you, he might notice something.

“Seonghwa’s smart, but when it comes to stuff like this, he can be pretty blind. Don’t worry about it too much.” San had told you in the morning. You decide to trust him on this.

So you take the fish stew in your hands and drink it. You were surprised at first, you thought pirates would have terrible cooking skills, but Seonghwa’s food has always been rich, hearty and filling. With his intense stare on you as you eat, however, you find it difficult to swallow the food.

“Is there something you need?” You ask after narrowly avoiding choking for the third time. Seonghwa’s expression is unreadable, unnerving. You don’t expect anything good to leave his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

At that, you do choke and Seonghwa immediately panics, grabbing a cloth from his pocket and offering it to you. You wave it away, hacking and thumping your chest, careful to avoid where the tiny crystal rests underneath the oversized tunic San lent you.

“What for?” You cough as you set down the bowl, reaching for a mug of green tea on the table. As much as you disliked the drink at first, after being force fed it by San so many times, you’ve come to enjoy its mild, earthy flavour. Seonghwa inhales deeply, as if preparing to say something life altering.

“I’d like to apologize for not noticing your wound sooner.” He bows his head in genuine apology, much to your shock. “I should have realised that you were injured and reported it to Hongjoong earlier. If I did, you wouldn't have fallen ill-”

You're so dumbstruck that you simply stare at him with your mouth hanging wide open. Yeah, he didn't notice, but it wasn't his fault at all. Even if he had noticed, and hadn't done anything to help you, you couldn't blame him. He wasn't obligated to help you in any way.

“It's alright.” You try to cover up your confusion by taking another spoonful of fish stew. “It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you.”

“I wanted to make it up to you, so will you allow me to walk you around deck today? I saw San helping you and thought I might be able to assist in the same way.”

What on earth is wrong with this man? He owes you nothing. How can anyone be so… kind? You were literally nothing more than a stowaway he found on ship, not someone he needed to repay a debt to. But from the determined glint in his eye, he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

“Thank you, then.” You manage to reply hesitantly. It's probably the fastest way to get this done and over with.

Draining the stew, you rise to your feet, and you see Seonghwa move to support your side. He gives you a kind smile. “Are you ready to go?”

Holy shit, this man…

“Yeah…” You clear your throat uncomfortably as he slings one of your arms around his shoulders. They're a little broader than San's, more muscled under his black shirt, and one of his hands come to rest on your side.

Step by step, he carefully moves you towards the door, nudging it open with his foot. The sunlight hits you in the face, and you blink rapidly to clear your sight.

“Clean the cannons properly! I don't want to see a single speck of gunpowder on them, understood?”

“Trim the sails, wind from starboard!”

You're bombarded with activity the moment you step onto the main deck. Pirates rush about, some cleaning out the long barrels of the cannons, some scrubbing down the deck and some mending torn sails. It's strangely domestic, and you can't help but snort at the image of these so called bloodthirsty pirates. Then you remember their captain and you shiver.

“Are you feeling cold?” Seonghwa's concern unnerves you. You shake your head desperately.

“No! I just uhhh…. felt some wind!” You're tempted to smack yourself in the face for your blatant stupidity. “Let's continue moving, shall we?”

He brings you to the front of the ship, where you can see sea waves crashing against the ship's wooden plants in sprays of white. For a moment, you look up and forget that you’re on a ship, all you see is the sun hovering over the horizon and blue sea rolling onwards. You close your eyes and breathe in the warm, salty air, it brings you peace.

“The Treasure is a beautiful ship, isn’t it?”

Your eyes snap open to look at him. Seonghwa has turned around to watch the crew at work on the deck, the smile on his face soft and fond. You know next to nothing about ships, but you do admit she’s very graceful with her pale blue sails and the sheer size of the ship is undoubtedly impressive. You nod.

“I think it is.”

Seonghwa smiles warmly at you then, leaning against the rails of the bulwarks with a happy, content gaze. “She’s a three masted frigate ship, a hundred and three feet long and thirty feet wide. It was one of the Royal Navy’s prides, until Hongjoong single handedly stole it from them without force and repurposed it into a pirate ship of his own.” He gestures at the other end of the ship.

“That’s called the stern. We’re at the bow. When you’re facing the bow of the ship, the right is called the starboard and the left is called port.” The cook tells you. That clears things up from you. Every time you hear someone (especially Mingi) call out ‘wind coming from port’, you think that you’re finally approaching land, but no.

“Thanks for telling me.” You tell him and he nods. You’re not sure why he’s telling you all this, but you suppose that’s his way of trying to make up for something he didn’t do.

“We’re currently on the forecastle deck, and that’s the main deck.” He points a finger at where the main activity is happening. “Above the captain’s cabin is the quarterdeck.”

“Where the captain is.” You mutter under your breath. “I’ll be sure to steer clear of it.”

You didn’t intend for Seonghwa to hear it, but he does anyway. He pauses for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip, eyes flicking between you and the quarterdeck. You start to worry if Seonghwa is unhappy that you’re almost insulting his captain, but then he speaks.

“Don’t take captain personally.” He tries to reassure you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “He does believe that you’re one of the Royal Navy, so you can’t blame him for being cautious. A few years ago, we bargained for one of the most accurate nautical charts in the navy’s possessions and the Navy has been after us ever since. Hongjoong’s worried about it, so he’s cautious of any new stranger on board. Deep down, he really is a kind person at heart.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are so pleading, as if he’s genuinely upset by the thought that you could dislike his captain. You can’t find it in yourself to outright tell him you think his captain is a menace who wouldn’t so much as bat an eyelash if you were tossed overboard this moment and got eaten by sharks. In fact, he might even find it in him to dance a little jig.

“Umm...” Is all you manage in reply. You’re such a smooth talker, you could cry. Seonghwa looks a little disappointed that you don’t believe him, but he gives you a small, understanding smile.

“It’s alright if you don’t see it now.” He says gently, turning to look at the waves with you. “I’m sure you will, eventually. That’s what happened to me too.”

You raise an eyebrow. From what you can see, Seonghwa is nothing like his captain. Even as a pirate, he’s kind hearted, gentle and compassionate. His captain, on the other hand, is exactly like the scourge of the seas.

Then you hesitate for a moment, eyes flickering over to the man beside you. He notices it before you can drop your gaze.

“Is there anything you want to ask? I don’t mind.”

You ask away.

“Do you know who brought me to the sickbay?”

Seonghwa frowns, racking his memory. “It wasn't San? If that's the case, I don't have any idea either. I'm sorry I don't have the answer to your question.”

“It's alright.” You rush to reassure him. “Actually, I have another question. Why did you become a pirate?”

The man suddenly tenses at your question, fingertips digging into the wood of the bulwark railings until his knuckles turn white. You can see his eyes darken ever so slightly and in a single breath he looks like he’s aged a decade, barely restrained pain dancing across his face like the result of a reopened wound.

“You don’t need to answer if you feel uncomfortable.” You rush to amend. The air feels like it’s turned to ice, goosebumps racing over your skin. Seonghwa shakes his head, his tightly wound muscles slowly relaxing under his dark shirt as he eases his grip on the railing.

“No… It’s just a bad memory.” He exhales, but you can hear the lump in his throat. “I didn’t join out of choice.”

Your eyes go wide. “The captain kidnapped you?”

“No!” Seonghwa rushes to stop you, biting his lower lip. “When I was young, my family was killed on suspicion of hiding pirates by the Royal Navy.”

Ahh, the Royal Navy which you’ve heard so much about. The bane of the pirates… who you’re supposed to be.

“That’s sad.” Is all you say.

Seonghwa gives you a weak smile that doesn’t seem quite real, but continues his story anyway. “I managed to escape onto a ship in the harbour… which happened to be the Treasure.”

So it’s somewhat similar to what you’ve experienced so far. Maybe that’s why he’s been treating you more kindly than what you’d expect.

“I’ve been with Captain and the crew ever since.” Seonghwa adds seriously, but there’s a happier, content spark to his eyes. You can hear the little bounce in his voice when he speaks of the crew and the ship. They must be close.

The feeling in your chest that has been there ever since you’ve stepped aboard this ship only grows. It’s alien, unnerving. You don’t recognize it.

You turn away from Seonghwa to stare at the horizon in the distance. For some reason, every time you look at the sea, you’re immediately calmed, the storms of your heart ceasing to nothing but white noise at the back of your mind.

But this time, a small niggling feeling encroaches on your usual sense of calm.

Something cold creeps over your lungs and heart, an unexplainable anticipation and fear. It only grows bigger, more real, and for some reason, you feel like the reason of your distress is only growing closer.

Your head jerks to the left. Your eyes furiously scan the sea you are travelling upon, the dark blue that rushes underneath the ship, but you can’t see anything. Then your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a low groan. It starts off soft at first, but grows in volume gradually until the sound is ringing in your ears. It’s soul wrenching, full of anguish and so desperate like a crying child calling out for his mother that your chest throbs painfully in response to the sound.

Then you hear it.

Come back…

You almost jump in terror. The words aren’t in any language you speak, but you know their meaning clear as glass. The one behind the groan is searching for something, no… someone.

Where did you go?

Your breath suddenly shorten into pants. For another second, you’re heart wrenchingly terrified, almost as much as the time you were running for your life from the Royal Navy. Seonghwa must notice something, because he taps you on the shoulder, his face worried.

“Is something wrong?”

You stare at him in shock. “Do you not hear that noise?”

At your words, his brows furrow. “What noise?”

Why did you leave?

You almost squeak with fright, your hands clapping over your ears. “That noise!”

Seonghwa frowns in concern, reaching out to support you once again. “You must be hearing things because of your head injury.” He tries to reason with you gently, pulling you towards the sickbay. “Come on, let’s get you back to San so he can give you a check up-”

Where are you, Sǣr?

The last word is a scream, a cry of fury and distress. What is Sǣr? Then all of a sudden, you see it.

“There!” You drag Seonghwa with you by the wrist to the bow of the ship, as far as you can go, all blood draining from your face. “Look!”

He strains his eyes, peering out into the horizon and shielding his eyes from the sun. The glare reflecting off the ocean waves make it difficult to see and he doesn’t notice anything different than usual. No ship sails on the horizon, no cause for danger. When he wants to turn around and ask you what you see, you point into the water, right into the distance.

“It’s in the sea!” You shout at him, almost hysterical with fear. Why can’t he see it? “It’s coming!”

Thank the heavens for their grace because Seonghwa doesn’t call you crazy and toss you into the sickbay. He stares in the direction you direct him for a few long, agonizing seconds, before you see his eyes going almost unnaturally wide with horror and his mouth falling open.

The sight might have been comical if you hadn’t been on the verge of wetting your pants in terror.

It’s a massive, dark shape moving underwater, right beneath the surface. It’s still a considerable distance from the Treasure, but at the speed it’s moving, it’ll be upon you in mere minutes. You have no idea what kind of monstrous beast it could be, but you definitely don’t want to find out. Neither does Seonghwa, apparently, because he turns around and sprints across the main deck for the captain’s cabin.

You watch, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as he snatches up an iron bar and hammer, wasting no time in striking it with all the force he has.

The sound rings across the ship and immediately the whole ship ceases activity, waiting in anticipation for a command. Mingi leaps down from the quarter deck in one smooth movement, not even bothering with the stairs. Seonghwa shouts something at him that you can’t quite hear over the distance and the quartermaster dashes up to the forecastle deck to you, boots pounding on the wooden planks.

“Where is it?” Is all he rasps out, eyes scouring the horizon for a glimpse of it. This time, you have no problem locating it, your eyes almost instinctively drawn to its shape. You point at it, and it must be a lot closer and bigger than before, because Mingi sees it almost immediately and his face goes ashen.

“All hands on deck!” Mingi bellows at the crew, who leap into action at once. “Raise the mizzen sail and ready the cannons! We’re going to sail a port beam reach to the wind!”

In front of you, a flurry of activity breaks out over the ship. Along the bulwarks, you see men rushing to untie the cannons which had been previously secured to the main deck, powder monkeys running out from below deck with small white bags of what you assume to be gunpowder. There’s a snapping sound as the massive square sail of the third sail comes down, and you grab for the railing as the Treasure almost flies forward at a speed that seems impossible for such a massive ship.

“Yunho, trim the sails!”

The tall man slides down from the crow’s nest on one of the sheet ropes, landing as nimbly as a cat on the deck. He leads a team of men in hauling on the sheets, tightening them as them prepare to sail perpendicular to the wind.

San joins you at the bow. “It’s big.” He comments about the growing shape dryly. “Probably about two or three times bigger than the ship.”

He’s understating. The monster looks like it could eat the Treasure for breakfast.

“We're travelling at six knots!” You hear someone call from the other side of the ship. Mingi shakes his head furiously.

“Tighten the sheets! We need to move faster than twenty knots!”

“What's a knot?” You ask San.

“A nautical mile per hour.” The healer answers, never taking his eyes off the sea monster. “We measure the ship's speed with  a device called the common log.The speed of the ship is said to be the number of knots counted.”

“And do you know what's chasing us?”

San eyes you with a disgruntled stare. Even the ever calm healer seems a little unnerved. “You could always go overboard and find out.”

“We're gaining in speed!” A man at the starboard shouts, leaning over the rail. “Nine knots now!”

There's a groaning of rope as the sails pivot on their masts to catch the wind, Yunho shouting commands to the sail trimming crew. The ship angles to the left, diverging from its original course.

“Where are we headed?” You swallow uneasily. San shrugs, no more knowledgeable than you.

“Yeosang is trying to find somewhere along the coast we can go ashore or hide from the monster.” He squints at the dark shadow as the ship continues to sail away from the monster. “It may not even be chasing us specifically.”

The dark shape changes course as well, moving right for the ship.

“Well that's a reassuring thought.” You gulp. There's a intent to the massive creature, in the way it moves. No doubt, it's heading for the ship and from how it looks even bigger than before, it's gaining on them.

“Thirteen knots!” The same man bellows, his voice almost breaking in fear. Mingi curses under his breath.

“We're losing ground.” He swears rather colourfully. “Hongjoong-hyung needs to sail a beam reach or we have no chance of outrunning that thing. I predict it's moving at about twenty five knots and that's nearly impossible for us even with a strong wind.”

“What happens if the wind gives out on us?” You mutter to yourself, but Mingi hears you.

“It won't.” The quartermaster replies with a sort of assured confidence, as if he is stating fact. “Not with Captain around.”

You want to argue that the captain can't control the skies, but it seems insistent on proving you wrong. The ship suddenly surges forward with a burst of speed, the bow slicing the sea before them. You're thrown off balance for a moment but manage to hang onto San for dear life. He barely notices your added weight on his arm.

“Hongjoong-hyung has the blessing of a sea god on him.” Mingi tells you bluntly as his eyes continue following the movements of the sea monster. “Usually we rarely encounter any threats of nature on the ocean, but I suppose there's a first time for everything.”

“A sea god?” You repeat skeptically. San nods seriously.

“Even Hongjoong-hyung himself didn't believe it. But there's a pulse around him, a positive, protective energy that reflects the sea and keeps him safe from most storms. Someone drew power from it to place a blessing upon him.”

“Let's hope it's enough to save us.” You mutter nervously as the dark shape draws even closer. The ship is almost skimming the waves now, flying with the wind as it angles towards the left.

“Twenty six knots!”

There's a massive cheer from the ship, but their happiness is cut short when the dark shape puts on a burst of speed, moving towards them with some kind of sinister intent.

Mingi lets out a growl.

“Wooyoung, fire the cannons!”

A young man with striking purple hair leaps to a cannon, as do the rest of the gun crews. He adjusts the cannon, moving it about a swiveling platform before locking it in place with a lever.

“Fire!” His voice rings out and one of the crew hands him a piece of burning slip. He touches it to the cannon.

“Fire in the hole!”

“Cover your ears.” San advises you serenely, his own hands clasped over his ears. You follow suit just before you hear a sound like a massive thunderclap that threatens to split the sky in half.

Jumping into the air, you yelp as you feel your ears ringing at the noise. Your eyes, however, trace the almost too fast flight of the cannonball as it streaks across the sky and smashes into the ocean with incredible force.

There's a moment of silence.

Then a pained roar, so loud and so enraged  that every pirate on the deck almost quakes in fear. Then you hear Yunho call from the rigging.

“Land sighted!”

Your eyes follow his, and you spot a cove with narrow opening, likely too small for the sea monster to enter. So that was their plan.

“This is a dangerous plan.” San murmurs to himself. You look at him worriedly.

“Why? From what I see, it's our best option.”

The healer exhales, frowning. “Yes it is, but we're in Navy infested waters and now we're heading for land, where it'll be difficult for us to catch wind and leave. After that cannon shot, every ship in a ten mile radius would have heard us.”

“But we don't have a choice.” You try to reason. San nods reluctantly.

“That's the problem.”

The ship nears the tiny cove, a narrow passage surrounded on all sides by rocky cliffs. The captain, once again, steers his ship through without the slightest bit of fear, as if he's one with the ship. The sides of the ship barely scrape the walls of cove opening, and once you're through, the crew let out a ateezmassive cheer of relief.

The dark shape presses against the mouth of the cove for a moment, as if trying to squeeze it's way in. You watch with bated breath as the monster hovers there, before letting out an immense roar that shakes the very masts of the ship and causes the treasure to rock back and forth unsteadily, a quivering shadow in the deep.

For a brief second, you suddenly see it and your breathing cuts off in a gasp of realization.

It's staring at you, just like before. A colossal shape that glows a brilliant crimson, the colour of blood.

There's another seething roar that causes the sails to shake in the wind and the crew to rush to cover their ears before the shadow vanishes into the depths, as abruptly as it has come.

The crew aboard the ship break out in cheers and hollers of excitement, but you merely slump against the rails of the bulwark, hands trembling as you try to come to terms with what you have just realised.

It was the eye from your dream.

[writingpuddle]

Hello congrats on 500 followers! Do you think you would be interested in writing something about the foxes camping? Maybe as a team bonding trip or a reunion? Honestly whatever you feel like I love reading your fics and head cannons! They never fail to cheer me up!

ah anon, you get me. read it on ao3

Moonlight

The smell of campfire smoke saturated the night air. Neil’s soles scuffed against the gravel on the road as he followed the others, the breeze sending a zing of energy through him. The two apple ciders he’d drunk earlier glowed in his stomach like sunshine.

“No, I’m sure it was this way,” Nicky said, his voice too loud and blurry with drink.

“Oh my god, Nicky,” Allison said. “You couldn’t find the bathroom in daylight.”

“The map is confusing!” Nicky protested. “Oh look! The playground!”

Nicky’s shadow darted off the road towards the shadowy structure. The others laughed, stumbling after him. Matt tripped over the wooden frame and nearly hit the ground, but Dan was there to catch him. A second later he gasped softly, dashing towards a tiny wooden horse on a spring. He folded his giant frame down onto the horse and rocked wildly back and forth. Neil had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculous sight.

“This is stupid,” Kevin said peevishly. “You are acting like children.”

Dan and Renee exchanged a glance, then grabbed him by his elbows, dragging him over to a brightly coloured playground merry-go-round. He shouted in protest as Dan trapped him in one of the segments while Renee starting the whole thing spinning around.

“Neeeeeil,” Nicky called. “Teeter totter, now!”

“Don’t use him,” Allison said derisively. “He’s too small to balance.”

“That’s the point! I bet I can launch him clear off the—Neil, where are you going?”

The field sloped away beneath the park, the slightly overgrown grass dampening Neil’s shoes. Leaves fluttered in the breeze. Glimmers of moonlight off the lake peeked between the branches.

“Neil, don’t you dare—”

Neil’s feet had already carried him down the slope a few steps, the allure of the water drawing him away. At the sound of Nicky’s voice, he glanced over his shoulder. Nicky started towards him, and all the buzzing in Neil’s chest lit up at once. He took off at a sprint, laughter frothing in his chest. The grass under his feet was springy and damp and the playground dropped away behind him.

He ducked between the trunks of the trees. The lake loomed in front of him and his feet ripped up the grass as he sprinted towards the beach. The air whistled and he tipped his head up to the sky. His hair blew back from his face, the wind whipping moisture from his eyes.

A body barrelled into him from the side. He went down with a shout, tumbling across the grass and coming to a halt laying on his back. Allison rolled a few feet further, breathless with laughter. “Brat,” she gasped. Her hair had blown free of its braided crown and hung messily over her face.  

Neil snickered, dropping his head back against the grass. The stars overhead twinkled. The Foxes had planned this camping trip impromptu after getting booted from the last round of championships; the only person who had bailed was Aaron claiming “midterms” and “assignments” as his excuse. As if they didn’t all have plenty of those they were ignoring. Neil couldn’t say he was that disappointed at Aaron’s absence. Their relationship had gotten less tense over the past year, but they were a long way from friends.

The sounds of running feet and panting approached. Neil didn’t move, stretching his arms out in the grass. Vaguely, he knew the looseness in his limbs was at least partly alcohol, but right then it didn’t matter.

“Neil—you—rat—bastard—” Nicky gasped, stumbling to a stop and doubling over, planting his hands on his knees.

“Why?” Matt whined, leaning against a tree.

Neil shrugged, the grass beneath him tickling his neck when he moved. “I just felt like running.”

“Bitch,” Dan said, without heat as she caught up. A rather green-looking Kevin came up behind her and sat heavily in the grass.

Allison rolled over, a smug look on her face. “Alright, losers,” she said. “You know what’s next.”

“What now?” Kevin said despondently.

Allison looked at the lake, then looked back at them significantly.

“Ally, babe, I love you, but I am too drunk to read your mind right now,” Dan said.

“We’re going skinny-dipping, morons,” Allison said.

“It’s freezing out!” Nicky protested. Matt nodded earnestly in agreement.

“So you’re gonna have to be quick,” Allison said loftily.

“My gay ass was not meant to—"

“Shh!” Allison waved a finger, shushing them. “Nope! Y’all made me sleep in a tent, this is the price. Shut up, Kevin.”

“I didn’t even say anything that time,” Kevin muttered.

“We could’ve rented trailers, but no, we had to do this authentically—”

“Fine, fine!” Dan said. “Come on Matt, I need your furnace-butt next to me if I’m not gonna freeze to death.”

“But Dan—”

“You heard her,” Dan said, and her expression had gone from resigned to devilish now that she’d switched sides. “We’re getting the authentic camping experience. Up, on your feet, all of you.”

Neil rolled over onto his stomach, contemplating the silvery ripples on the lake. It really did look cold.

A shoe nudged his side. “Up you get, Josten,” Allison said. She’d already peeled her shirt off and stood there in only a lacy bra and her skin-tight jeans. Even Kevin was reluctantly stripping down.

“It’s dark out, and nobody is going to see you,” Allison said. “Shy doesn’t suit you.”

Neil poked her ankle with his finger and she jumped. “Fuck, ice fingers,” she snapped. “Get up and get changed, asshole.”

Neil considered pestering her a little more, but the others were already stripping down, so he pushed himself to his feet and ducked behind a tree.

After about a minute he heard Matt hollering, followed by Allison shouting, “Wait, you idiot, we have to go toget—”

“LEROY JENKINS!” Matt bellowed, and then a tremendous splash broke the night. Dan cackled as Matt came up gasping.

Neil leaned out from his hiding place just in time to see Matt’s bare ass poke out of the water before he dove down under again. Renee and Dan had already waded in to their hips, and Allison jabbed her finger at Kevin to make him move. He scrunched his shoulders as he pushed the water out in front of him before all of their attention was seized by Matt surfacing with a great spout of water.

They shrieked as it sprayed over the lot of them, thoroughly distracted. Neil watched as Renee slid smoothly into the water, her moonlit hair glinting before she slipped beneath the surface. A second later a shivering Nicky yelped and vanished underwater, coming up spluttering while Renee laughed like chiming bells.

A fond smile quirked Neil’s lips. He watched their antics for a minute longer before collecting up all of their discarded clothes and heading back up towards the campsite. He was halfway up the field when he heard an outraged shout behind him, and he broke into a trot, the clothes firmly tucked under his elbow.

They had needed two campsites between the eight of them; the fire still burned in the main one, shielded by Matt’s oversized truck. A single figure sat next to it with a flask in one hand. His blond hair shimmered, golden in the firelight.

Andrew looked up as Neil approached, but didn’t say anything. Neil dropped the pile of clothes next to his camp chair and dropped into the chair next to Andrew with a contented sigh.

Andrew flicked his gaze down to the clothing and back at Neil in a wordless question. Neil linked his pinky finger with Andrew’s. “They went swimming,” he said.

A single smooth eyebrow raised, and Neil couldn’t help smirking. He let his gaze drift back to the fire. Andrew had kept it well-fed in their absence, stoking it up to a lively blaze. His shoes were smudged with ash from where he kept propping them up to warm his feet.

“This was a good idea,” Neil said. “This was fun.”

The fire crackling was the only response he got. “I guess you’re not really into fun, anyway,” Neil jabbed.

Andrew’s hand shifted, turning Neil’s over and brushing away the bits of vegetation clinging to it. Neil was pretty sure he’d be picking grass out of his hair until they got back to Palmetto.

“I,” Andrew started, then stopped, a frown forming between his eyebrows. Neil’s attention sharpened at Andrew’s tone, his lighthearted smile fading. Andrew’s frustration was nearly palpable.

“I don’t know how,” Andrew said finally, tucking his chin and staring into the fire. His hand tightened on Neil’s, calloused and warm from being tucked in his pockets.

Neil’s throat tightened a little. Andrew’s control had always been his armour; he didn’t know how to set it down without being afraid. They’d found places where the walls could give, now, but Neil didn’t think they would ever really come down entirely. He dragged his thumb across Andrew’s knuckles, pulling them up and kissing the back of his hand. Andrew watched him with hooded eyes.

“That’s alright,” he said. “Someone needs to keep the fire going.”

Andrew let out a long breath through his nose, shooting Neil an unimpressed look, but Neil thought his shoulders relaxed a little, too and counted that as a win. He took a deep breath through his nose, tipping his head back to contemplate the thin patch of stars visible between the trees above them. “Alcohol, helps, though,” he said lightly.

Andrew snorted. “Lightweight.”

A flash of pale skin dashed past the entrance to the campsite.

Neil bit back a smile as a muffled curse came from behind the shadows, then Allison’s head poked up above the bed of the truck. Her bare shoulders were tense and scrunched up halfway to her ears, her arms tightly folded over her chest.

“Hey, Ally,” Neil said. “You look cold.”

“You slimy little son of a bitch,” she hissed. “Give me the car keys, now.”

Neil snickered and dug the keys out of Matt’s pants. He tossed them over the truck to her and she vanished around the other side. He heard the passenger door open and some shuffling, but he didn’t look up.

Allison emerged wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt Neil thought he remembered Seth wearing around the dorm. Her hair hung like seaweed in straggly tatters and she squeezed a towel around it, wringing out the worst of the water.

She jabbed a taloned finger at him. “That shows me for trying to be considerate,” she said. “I should’ve known better than to take my eyes off you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Neil said. He nudged the pile of clothes with his toe. “Gonna go rescue the others now?”

She regarded the pile for a long moment, then shrugged and threw herself down in the nearest chair.

“They can walk,” she said, and grabbed a bag of marshmallows.

[eyesofsteelandsky]

Too Good To Pass Up

First in a series of story posts related to an on-going effort to restore Brem’s eye. Includes violence and blood. Future stories will have a LOT more of both.

The crunch of sand under the heavy, pacing bootfalls had almost withered its way into being as much white noise as the occasional lapping of the mild tide in the long stretch of waiting. Several well-worn lines and circular trails around the heavy crate she had been watching over marked Brem’s impatient path. Even with the more frequent visits and having been in the area for the better part of a week now, the East’s winds and seas didn’t bring that same feeling of home as the sandy beaches of La Noscea. As she was settling into the internal debate if they were the comforts of a stranger, or simply she was the stranger in someone else’s comforts, a familiar pudgy figure called out from the tunnel into the small cove.

“Miss Abylnpfefwyb! I’m so glad to see you learned punctuality since our first meeting! And I do see you came alone as well. Were it that everyone in our business that could take instruction so well.” The bespeckled Hingashi hyur made his way forward from that cave passage, waving at those behind him to start filtering in. An entourage including a handful of muscle, some set with swords on their hips and others with long rifles. The last threw were a pair escorting a thinly, if particularly tall woman in cuffs. Though the woman’s long hair hung over most of her face, there were still clearly a few bruises over the visible portions of her cheeks. “I do believe you’ll find that the merchandise is exactly what you asked for. I do hope my.. adjustment in payment wasn’t too demanding.”

“I wouldn’t want you walking away from this thinking I didn’t respect you, Kubo. Like the obvious respect your rather extensive negotiation assistants clearly represents for me.” One of the sea wolf’s gloved hands grips the front of the crate she had been pacing around for so long, letting it crash forward firmly enough to erase much of her trail from the sand. A faint blue glow illuminates the machinery with, as well as the pair of tanks at the back end. “One Garlean magitek engine and enough ceruleum to get any prospective magitek business’s R&D going. Though as far as I can tell what you’ve brought is a tall woman with a black eye..” The Hingan man’s smile stretched so broad it threatened to chase his hairline even further into retreat as he snapped his fingers to have the captive brought forward. Once the muscled pair had her close enough to present they forced her to hunch forward so Kubo could raise his hand to push her hair up and out of the way, revealing the Garlean third eye in her forehead. “I believe you’ll find she has two entirely untouched eyes, even if the one looks more like a clam spit it into her head. “May I present Fulcinia lux Protus. Or is the ‘lux’ reserved for those who aren’t traitors to the empire? Ijin naming habits are so hard to keep track of..” The woman in question turns the eye that isn’t swollen shut or in the middle of her forehead out Brem’s way, but it’s clear any desire to resist had already been beaten out of her.

“Looks like short of tossing an Allagan puzzle for her to solve at your feet, I’ll have to take your word on it. I -am- rather disappointed that you’re asking full price for damaged goods.” Several heavy strides draw her pointedly away from the crated engine, with one hand waved back towards the man’s payment. “Though seeing as I can’t imagine paying with most of an engine is going to work, perhaps you’ll consider a friendly discount the next time we do business?”

“Oh, of course, of course. We’ll take a bit right off the top next time, as a show of good faith. The man’s smile lingers on as he snaps his fingers again and the Garlean woman was drug over Brem’s way, with one of the burly xaela men escorting her offering the chains of the woman’s cuffs forward. “Though there is one thing I should mention, I suppose..”

“While I do so greatly appreciate the business you’ve brought me today, Miss Abylnpfefwyb, you do have to know the value of what we have here in this bay. A woman who’s made a fortune blowing Garleans out of the sky, here with a traitor and and a salvaged ship engine. Do you have any idea how much that trio of treasure would be worth, even to a fractured empire?” Kubo raised his hands and gave a loud clap, leading to several fully armored Garlean soldiers to pour through the cave tunnel into the cove, as well as the magitek whirr of several armors, predators, and vanguards activating and stepping up from the rocky ridge, and several of the true constructs walking up out of the hiding places within the waters behind the sea wolf. “And I’m afraid if I have to choose between long term business partners with an army, or a bitchy sky pirate with a superiority complex, it’s not so hard a choice. Now then, you can come peacefully or we these fine imperials can take home the obsidian we can blast you into. Your choice.”

Her fingers curl around the chain she was holding, drawing that single teal eye up from the woman she was here for to the shit-eating grin being beamed down at her by the triumphant hyur. “It’s a good trap, well sprung Kubo. Even I know better to take on everything you’ve brought with you by myself. So there’s not really any choice is there? Though I must say..” The warm leather her hand was bound in subtly tightens it’s grips over Fulcinia’s bindings once more. “There’s an important talent in our kind of negotiations. The ability to recognize the look in someone’s eye when they’ve decided to piss on a good thing. And you, Kubo, don’t hide that look well.”

Though his expression soured briefly as she spoke, eventually a laugh burst from the Hingan’s chest, waving both arms out at the overwhelming force he’d brought along with him. “And what good has that ‘talent’ brought you, pirate cunt? You’ll leave here chained like her and I’ll be spending my imperial coin before the day is done!”

“The thing is, those who don’t hide it well usually don’t know to look for it themselves.” A swift yank sent the bound Garlean flying past her to land face-first into the sand as aether went ripping around the pale pirate’s other hand, eventually forming a spear that went flying towards the engine and it’s crate, landing in a pipe that fed the ceruleum tanks into the engine. Immediately after she flung herself on top of Fulcinia and immediately forcing the aether around her into plate after plate to drop onto the pair. 

A few stray rounds from Kubo’s riflemen made it past the initial defense, one even tore into the roegadyn’s shoulder, but as she’s finishing the cocoon of protection the magical spear she’d flung erupts into flame, rushing into the pair of tanks. There’s a brief hiss of build up before the engine and its fuel supply violently burst, catching the swordsmen rushing forward in the explosion while the concussive wave slams into the rest of the crowd within the enclosed cove, knocking a few unconscious outright while others are simply sent flying backwards onto the ground. 

With the signal sent and received, the roar of an airship’s engine announces the presence of the pirate’s vessel only moments before it rose into view from its hiding place among several several sea vessels. The First Mate was already shouting the command to fire as the heavy Garlean machinery on the ridge tries to whip around and chase the mobile arial target, catching each in a steady stream of cannon fire. Shouts of retreat from both Kobu’s men and their Garlean cohorts sounded almost immediately, though it wasn’t slowing the fire from the ship above.

Though the heavy aether around them distorted the sound, the shift in the battle, it was enough to get Brem to drop the spell and yank the chained Garlean up with her. “You want out of this alive? You come with me.” The intensity of her rushed words, half of a metal face, and the battle raging yalms away was enough to get a bobbly-headed nod from the shell-shocked woman as the pair rushed past the burning wreckage of the engine crate. With one arm wrapped around Fulcinia’s core as best she could manage, the roegadyn flung the other upward with another ripple of aether, launching the familiar shape of a frog tongue up to an anchor built onto the side of her ship. As soon as the magical shape tried to pull back, the anchor itself whirred to life and instead yanked back with equal force so that the sea wolf and her ‘cargo’ were hauled rapidly skyward, tumbling out onto the main deck of her airship.

“Welcome aboard, Cap’n! Orders?” The bright faced First Mate flashed that energetic and occasionally frustrating grin down to the bleeding pile of roegadyn.

There’s a snarl as she hauled herself up to her feet, motioning down to Fulcinia. “Get her below deck, keep someone with her and get that eye looked at.” Stalking over to the weapon rack on a nearby wall she yanked a long rifle free, stepping to the edge of the deck to raise it. Aiming one-eyed always had it’s challenges, but hours of practice and a burning pit of fury in her stomach steadied her hand. One loud crack of gunpowder and the paunchiest of the figure’s fleeing the beach collapsed just short of the tunnel out, blood flowing readily from the freshly formed hole in his throat. “Get us the fuck out of her. Once she’s cleaned up, me and my ‘guest’ are takin’ the ‘cutter. You need to get the ship back to home port before the Garleans start swarmin’.”

[tran5rightsos]

My Hourglass Is In Your Hands

Summary: A day of fishing in the lagoon with Luke is cancelled when his and Ashton's skiff springs a leak. What will they do with their surprise day off?

Genre: Steampunk

Relationships: Lashton

Word count: 1881

Warnings: blood and injury

Leave Kudos?

Ashton leaned out the window to reach the small pail hanging from the awning, gritting his cigarette holder tight between his teeth to leave both hands free so that he could pour the water collected last night into his window box. The little white flowers were just opening up in the morning sunlight, like snowflakes peppering the green shrubs.

Leaning on the windowsill, he took a puff of his cigarette and gazed out at the city clinging to the cliffs around the lagoon. Generally, all was quiet since most people were still in bed, but as he listened to the approaching whir of propellers, a dinghy descended in front of him. He gave the pilot a wave, watching them sink towards the Great Eye, where other airboats buzzed to and from its surface like dragonflies. Early morning was always a busy time down there.

The timer on Ashton’s oven dinged and he put out the stub of his cigarette before heading back in. The blueberry muffins were golden on top and when he cut one open, a puff of steam rising into the cool morning air, he found that it was soft and springy inside.

The rhythmic squeak of the pulley outside the window alerted him to the bucket coming down from Luke’s house. He hurried out to grab the rope and help pull it down to his sill. The bucket felt heavier than usual and when he opened the lid he found a jar of jam with the note.

skiff sprung a leak. wont make it to the eye today, was the message Luke had sent, with a sad face and the morning weather report written out underneath. The jam had a tag labelled strawberry with a smiley face underneath tied beneath the lid.

Ashton watched another airboat rise past the window, contemplating his suddenly empty schedule. He had plenty of weed and knew a good spot for watching the clouds and losing track of time. He took down the notebook and pencil hanging next to the window.

rolling cigarettes, meet me at the market in an hour? he wrote.  

He wrapped a muffin for Luke in cloth and sent it up with the note, smiling when he felt Luke start pulling the rope with him.  

He went back to the stove, nibbling on his muffin as he wrapped the other two. They wouldn’t be seeing Michael and Calum today, but the snacks would be welcome after a few shared cigarettes. He made the usual sandwiches for him and Luke, then got the weed jar down and started rolling cigarettes, wondering if it would be worth restocking the jar while he was out.  

Luke’s reply to his suggestion was an ok with another smiley face.  

Once his lunchbox was packed, Ashton deliberated in the bathroom mirror. He’d better change into something more presentable than his fishing jumpsuit and singlet. A waistcoat and button-up, to start with. Was his nice jacket too nice for a day out in the cliffs with a friend? Even if that friend was Luke?  

He settled on his trenchcoat, to play it safe. He wouldn’t mind it getting covered in ash, he reasoned, and he wouldn’t feel overdressed if they dropped into a pub at some point. It looked good with his semi-nice trousers and boots anyway.  

As Ashton gave himself a final once-over, he heard a roll of thunder outside and frowned. Luke’s weather report hadn’t predicted anything but sun all day. He turned and spotted the underside of a massive airship outside the window in time to feel the room shudder so violently he had to grip a bedpost to stay standing. Outside, tiny pieces of debris rained down and his and Luke’s bucket fell past, followed by the wooden beam Luke’s end of the pulley was attached to and a huge hunk of burned metal. Ashton’s end ripped out with a splintering snap and above him someone screamed.  

Ashton stared at the ceiling. Luke.  

Abandoning the lunchbox, Ashton ran to the door, hands shaking as he pulled the handle and wrenched it open. A few neighbours were out in the hallway, but he ignored their questioning looks as he raced to the ladder at the end, climbing the rungs two at a time to reach Luke’s floor.  

Ashton didn’t think about how he’d get in until he reached the door, feeling both relieved that it was ajar and anxious that Luke wasn’t out in the hallway. He pushed it open and froze.  

The lagoon-facing wall was gone aside from what had been blown into the room, the view of the sinking airship outside and the smoking hole in its hull only slightly obscured by metal beams twisting downwards from the roof. The room itself was a wreck of plaster, shattered glass and splintered floorboards bashed in by burned metal chunks.    

Shaken out of his trance by a cry, Ashton searched the room for the source to find Luke on the floor next to his radio, a warped piece of thin pipe running through his thigh and blood streaming through his hair. Ashton rushed to his side, eyes fixing first on the side of his head. The tip of his ear was hanging by a sliver of skin, a long but thankfully shallow wound marking where a piece of metal had nearly taken out his eye as well.

Ashton took out his handkerchief and pressed it to the head wound.  

“Ash,” Luke gasped.  

“I’m here,” Ashton assured him, glancing around the room again. Outside, a sheet of corrugated roofing fell past. “We gotta go. Hold the handkerchief there.” They weren’t in immediate danger, but he didn’t want to take risks with whatever damage the structures above them had taken.  

He went to Luke’s bathroom, half of the bath itself probably at the bottom of the Eye by now and a piece of sky now visible above the airship, and searched the cupboard for medical supplies. There was gauze and a length of bandage, but nothing like the emergency kit they kept on the skiff. He grabbed the bandage and hurried back out to Luke.  

“Keep holding that,” he reminded him, pressing the now soaked handkerchief back to the wound, “Can you lift your leg? I need to bandage it.”  

Luke groaned, his foot shifting a little. Ashton helped him pull his knee up just enough to reach underneath. He could feel the tip of the pipe through his blood-wettened trousers, twisted and sharp.  

“I gotta cut your trousers open. Knife?”

“Knife?” Luke questioned breathlessly.

“Where are your knives?”

“Oh.” Luke took a shuddering breath and pointed to his bed. “Toolbelt.”

Ashton spotted the toolbelt hanging from a bedpost and grabbed it, first finding Luke’s large fishing knife, then a multitool with a relatively sturdy pair of scissors. He picked the multitool, not wanting to risk further injury to Luke’s leg with his shaky hands. After cutting a wide hole around the end of the pipe, Ashton carefully set loops of bandage around both ends and started winding it around his leg.

“I was about to go,” Luke told him, voice straining, “I was about to turn off the radio when I heard their distress call. The window shattered.”

“They aren’t falling too fast,” Ashton noted with a glance at the top of the airship outside, “Must’ve just been a couple of cells.”

Now that Luke had drawn his attention to it, Ashton could hear the announcer on the radio requesting aid for the airship and the areas hit by debris. He tuned it out again to focus on Luke.

“Sit up for me?”

Luke clutched Ashton’s arm tightly as he helped him up, groaning.

“Can you walk?”

Breathing deeply, Luke nodded. He tensed as Ashton secured his grip on him, breaths coming out shorter and faster as if to ready himself. Ashton lifted him slowly, but Luke still cried out as his leg shifted.

“I don’t think I can move it,” he whimpered.

“That’s okay, just lean on me.” Ashton took a small step to the door, Luke lurching with him. “That’s it, come on.”

The hardest part was getting over the doorstep. Ashton went first and Luke dragged his foot over it sideways, going pale as he bit his lip hard. Luke’s neighbours seemed to have fared better, though Ashton supposed that any injured worse than Luke would likely still be trapped in their homes.

“Medic?” Ashton asked someone hurrying between the people in the hallway, a red medical kit in hand.

They looked at the pipe. “Shit. Uh… Take him to the atrium, someone’ll be there soon, I gotta...”

Ashton nodded understandingly.

Luke’s floor opened onto a balcony stretching along the cliff wall, the bottom of the atrium a couple of floors below them. The whole area was shielded from the weather by a wall with a large, domed window, now cracked by a piece of wreckage, though that didn’t stop onlookers from staring at the airship outside.

Ashton laid Luke down on a nearby bench, feet on the floor and the pipe clear of the edge to keep it from getting jostled, and went to the railing, searching for a medic in the crowd below them but finding his gaze drawn to the airship. A few tugboats had attached lines to it, slowing its descent. The airship clearly wasn’t designed for water landings and Ashton wondered how many tugboats it would take to lift it over the cliffs to safety. Maybe they’d just rescue the people aboard and let the deep blue of the Eye take it.

“Ash.”

Ashton hurried back to Luke’s side, pressing the handkerchief to his head. “What’s wrong?”

Luke gripped his hand. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Luke nodded weakly, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. “Stay.”

There probably wasn’t much point to running in circles and screaming anyway. Ashton settled on the floor next to Luke, gently rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb as he kept pressure on the head wound with his other hand.

From here, Ashton couldn’t see the Eye, but he saw a fire boat whizz past, firefighters manning the water cannons on the side.

“Are you hurt?” Luke asked weakly.

Ashton looked at him and shook his head. “My house didn’t get hit.”

At least, not while Ashton had been there. He considered the debris he’d seen falling outside Luke’s and wondered what state his own home would be in when he returned.

Ashton frowned. When would he return? Emergency services might block off the hallways to the areas that had been hit with debris while they got the situation under control, which could take all night. The areas below would probably be blocked off while debris was cleared away and that could take days. The hit buildings would have to be repaired. In Luke’s case, probably completely rebuilt. Ashton hoped they’d give him a chance to grab his personal belongings first.

“We might have to stay with Cal and Mike,” Ashton suggested to Luke.

“Sleepover,” Luke mumbled in reply.

Ashton chuckled. “Yeah. A sleepover.”

“We can all sleep in the bed together.”

“All of us?” Ashton laughed, “Might be a bit of a squeeze.”

“Cozy.”

“Cozy,” Ashton repeated, giving Luke’s hand a squeeze.

[woossexyponytail]

Chapter three, The troublemakers

Ateez x reader

Ateez pirate au

■█■█■█■█■█■█■█■█■█■█■

The door slammed open revealing a young man with purple hair, his red dirty shirt open and only two of the last buttons closed showing off his bare chest, a large scar across his stomach.

"Oh! A female.. GUY'S THEIRS A FEMALE ON BOARD. And she is pretty" he said eyeing me, I blushed at him looking down at his boldness.

"Wooyoung shut your trap" Yeosang told him rolling his eyes at him, the guy, Wooyoung smiled at him then laughed loudly.

"Show respect to the lady" Seonghwa said walking in to the cabin smacking Wooyoung on the head. Wooyoung groaned rubbing where he was hit.

"Ok sorry" Wooyoung whined as he slumped his posture and started to pout some others walked in one was amost as tall as Yunho while the other two were taller then Wooyoung but shorter then Yunho.

"Yn, this is Wooyoung, that's San next to him is Jongho and the tall guy is Mingi. Guys this is Yn our new crew member" Yeosang introduced us all.

"Nice to meet you Yn" San said he had black hair that was slicked back with a white strip, he smiled kindly at me as he gently kissed my hand, making me blush a little.

The next up as Mingi as he gave me a crooked Smile and a small wave, he had red hair that pushed to the side, his clothing was like all the others a dirty white shirt and brown trousers and boots.

"Pleasure to meet you gorgeous" Wooyoung said walking up to me and placing his lips to my hand for another gentle kiss like San just did. He looked up with a smirk and winked at me after that but then Yeosang pushed him away.

The last was Jongho but just like Mingi he just smiled and waved at me, maybe the two are shy?. Well either way I'll get to know them soon enough.

"I can't believe you four, you actually did it" Hongjoong said as he was the last to walk through the door, closing behind him as he chuckled shaking his head.

"What you didn't believe in us? I'm hurt captain! You gave us a job and we completed it. Where's the gratitude?" Wooyoung asked faking being hurt as he pouted again.

"Shut it you idiot" Hongjoong said as he sat down on to the desk taking out what looks like a ruby, opening the draw on his desk and getting out the sapphire as he placed them together.

"Now we need to get one more right? Where is it?" Mingi asked his voice was very deep I wasn't really expecting that. Looking over at Hongjoong he placed the two gemstones on the desk and looked up.

"Tortuga, is our last stop until we get to Utopia. It will take about a week to get there" he said as he looked around at all of us they nodded as I just stood there with my arms crossed.

"All hands on deck" Hongjoong said as the crew all ran out, I stayed behind wanting to ask Hongjoong something and not infront of the crew.

"You alright love?" He asked walking up to me as I thought about how to say it, I looked up at him as he smiled down settling my ease.

"How did you know about my father?" I asked, thinking about what Yeosang said earlier, Hongjoong sighed then bit his lip.

"I might of done a bit of research with Yeosang help, but don't worry about it to much love" he said as he walked out of the doors leaving me in the room on my own.

✥---------------†------------------✥

The sea, perfectly calm, was like a peaceful lake, and its soft murmurs were scarcely audible, the waves seemed to sleep, as I saw a line of dark blue marked the curve of the horizon. The flat sea stretched in all directions, the afternoon sun scattering diamonds across it's surface as Seagulls wheeled overhead, carried by the cool ocean breeze.

We have been at sea for about a day now, I sat atop of one of the mast as the calm wind blew through my hair. I heard someone climbing up towards me, looking down I saw San as he sat beside me giving me a smile.

"You okay?" He asked his smile still bright as the sun, I hummed at him as I closed my eyes letting the warm sun gracefully moved around my skin.

"I'm just wondering what would of happened if I didn't follow Hongjoong, And how my father is" I whispered softly to him, San kept quiet for a little while before talking.

"You know my father would describe sailing as flying over water, dancing over the white crested waves, cleaving a path through the wind whipped water.

He would say it was freedom to him, to set sail into the wide blue and leave the duties of the land behind him. He said that the water called to him like a lover and whispered sweet nothings in his ears. He longed to feel the breaking of the waves on his prow as the boat headed out into the drink for a long voyage.

I never understood him, why he would waste away at sea when he had a family that needed him on shore, that is until he died there was nothing on land to keep me there after my mother passed away. So I sailed on any ship that wanted me. And I finally understood what he meant back then"

"What I'm trying to say is, Your father is probably worried about you, but if he leaves you for his own adventure, why can't you?" He said after that he started climbing down but stopped quickly looking up at me.

"It will be night soon, come down in a bit to have dinner with us ok?" He said that bright smile on his face as he climbed back down, leaving me to the peace of the afternoon ocean.

✥---------------†------------------✥

I saw Mingi as he was sat bellow deck a box next to him with a lot if different things placed in the box.

"Mingi, what are you doing?" I asked walking up to him, the young man flinched at the sound of my voice and quickly looked behind him to smile at me.

"Yn! I'm just cleaning the weapons don't want them breaking on us if we get in trouble now can we" he said laughing, I giggled along with him as he patted the chair next to him.

"Come take a seat I'll show you a few things" he said as I sat down next to him and watched what he was doing.

"We fill pots of metal or glass with gunpowder and attached a fuse" he said showing a metal ball it looked like what Hongjoong used in the cell.

"Chain shot they do little damage but slow down enemy ships." He said hold up some chains that are placed in the canons.

"You see, seeing a pirate flag cause lots of fear. This is one of the best examples of the effect that we have on our victims. Our reputation as villains makes our jobs easier as most would rather surrender than fight." I nodded with interest.

We walked back up on deck together as he finished off his talk, Hongjoong then called out to the crew, we all looked over at him.

"We're looking out for Merchants, Boys. Them that's fat with cargo!" Hongjoong yelled to the crew as we got ready to fight, well the crew San grabbed my hand keeping me with him.

"Find us a Schooner with that Spyglass, Wooyoung." Seonghwa yelled up to him as Wooyoung nodded and searched for a ship.

After a few minutes, Wooyoung yelled pointing in the direction of a ship in the distance, Hongjoong sailed the ship over the the merchant boat.

"Fire what Cannons you will, and land a few Strikes if you must. BUT FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T SINK HER." Hongjoong yelled the last part, I stood watching the crew run in different directions.

"It's no fun fishing Cargo out of the sea. Although it can be done." Hongjoong whispered under his breath but loud enough that San and I could hear.

The merchant ship blew up, I jumped at the sound, San rubbed my back telling me that the crew would all be fine.

The ship got closer to the now stopped merchant ship, San dragged me away so I wouldn't see, but I still heard the whole thing.

"Good day to you sir! I am Captain Kim and this is my Crew. We're sailors like yourselves, but quite unalike in our Purpose. For we intend to take all that you own. Yet no Harm shall befall any Man, so long as they remains at Ease. Is that clear?" I heard Hongjoong say to the other crew.

"Don't kill me, Sir! I have a Family. Please!" A man's voice was heard I looked over at San and he smiled sheepishly at me.

"Tell your friends we're stealing your goods. And we won't hurt nobody if everyone stays as still as a sandbar. You got that?" Hongjoong said, I sighing knowing that they won't hurt anyone.

"Lock 'em in the hold, and take everything that isn't nailed down." Seonghwa said, the sound of footsteps rushing around was heard as the boys came back with stuff in their hands.

✥----------------------------------✥

As night fell the blue haze of day lifted to reveal the stars. The stars shone as sugar spilt over black marble, glistening in the sun. The night sky was such a welcome sight, appearing like magic at each sunset, promising to return as it faded in dawn's first light. 

I sat on the fore mast in the calm, this has become one of my favourite things to do, to just watch the calming sea.

"What are you doing up here on you're own?" Wooyoung asked sitting next to me, I have become use to one of the crew sitting with me in silence, maybe to get to know me or to enjoy the silence.

"It's peacefully beautiful" I said looking up at the night sky, the stars hung above us, as if strung in the air by invisible strings. Wooyoung hummed, I felt his eyes on me as I looked over smiling shyly at him.

"So Wooyoung tell me about yourself" I said watching him, Wooyoung's eyes widened then he giggled at me a light blush appearing on his cheeks.

"There's nothing really to say about me. I grew up as an orphan, when I was old enough I ran away and got on a ship" he said shrugging as he looked out to the horizon.

"How did you get in this ship?" I asked still watching him, he was more interesting then the night sky.

"The ship I was on sunk it's how I got this scare, Then the Aurora sailed passed saw me and dragged me on board, been here ever since" he said, his hand rubbing his stomach, I nodded, my focus going back to the sky.

"Come on it's getting late" Wooyoung said as he stood up holding out his hand, I looked at his hand then to his face, he smiled brightly at me as I grabbed his hand as he helped me get up, walking down to the cabins.

Opening the doors Yeosang, Yunho, San, Mingi and Jongho sat in their hammocks, looking up they smiled at us as Wooyoung and I went to our own hammocks.

"One more day at sea then will be in Tortuga, are you excited about it, Yn?" Yeosang asked as he looked over at me.

"How is Tortuga different from the rest of the islands?" I asked laying back watching the guys laugh.

"Tortuga is the city of piracy home to all pirates, a safe haven one might say" San told me, I nodded in understanding.

"Who are we supposed to meet?" I asked, the guys looked at one another with a confused look on their faces, finally looking back at me.

"We don't know" Yunho said as the rest layed down and started drifting off to sleep, I layed there thinking about the person we are supposed to meet.

✥--------------†-------------------✥

I was in the kitchen helping Yunho when he asked me to go and grab some apples for lunch, I nodded making my way to the cargo hold at the bottom of the ship.

As I made my way down the stairs I heard singing, peeking around I saw Jongho stand his back towards me as he sang, there was somthing in his hands that I couldn't see.

I watch him for a while liking how soothing his voice is, he is a very good singer that's for sure. The younger boy turned around and froze seeing me standing there.

"Please don't tell my hyungs that I was breaking apples again" he asked me a sheepish smile on his face as he scratched his head, I smiled walking closer to him.

"I won't tell a soul" I said the boy smiled at me happy to hear that, I grabbed a basket that was to the side and placed some apples in there.

"Our we having apple's for lunch again?" He asked, I nodded my head as he smiled brightly at me.

"Here let me help" he said grabbing the basket from me as we walked to the kitchen, on the way I got to curious and asked about his life.

"Hmm, not much to say. My mother looked after me taught me how to pick pocket, showed me how to live on the streets. She passed away shortly afterwards, one day I pick pocket Hongjoong hyung. Instead of cutting my hands off he asked if I wanted to come aboard his ship as a crew member" he said I nodded as we got to the kitchen.

Opening the door for him Jongho walked in first seeing Yunho busying himself with cooking as Jongho placed the basket down on the table.

"I could teach you, you know. How to pick pocket, if you want" he said smiling, I thought about it for a few moments, it could be useful.

"Sure why not, sounds fun!" I said laughing we both laughed together as Yunho shook his head at us, Hongjoong then came in to the room a smirk on his face.

"What happened to 'I don't steal'?" He asked me, I blushed looking down as Hongjoong laughed patting me on my shoulder.

"We've corrupted you already have we?" Seonghwa asked chuckling to himself as he walked in with Yeosang, who smiled at me.

"Well she is a part of the crew now, she needs to learn somethings about being a pirate" Yeosang said shrugging, the others nodded agreeing.

✥----------------†-----------------✥

I was standing on deck with Jongho as he taught me how to pick pocket, I had successfully pick pocket a ring from Wooyoung who still hasn't noticed.

"Yn, here" Hongjoong said walking up to us as he passed me a sword, I grabbed it looking at it then at Hongjoong wondering why he gave it to me.

"You need to learn how to protect yourself if we get in to a fight" he said Jongho who stood next to me walked off to the side as he watched us.

"Uh can't I carry on hiding with San?" I asked noticing San behind Hongjoong who smiled when I asked that, Mingi shortly join us as well.

"You will but you need to learn, Mingi will teach you, San will watch to make sure you don't die in the process" Hongjoong said as he nodded to Mingi then San as he walked off.

"Die?" I asked looking over at Mingi then to San, I was terrified, they both started to laugh as Yeosang walked up to me.

"Don't worry Mingi won't hurt you" Yeosang said as he rubbed my shoulder, I nodded taking breath as Mingi showed me how to hold a sword probably.

After a few hours I was able to get the basic down, the boy's all cheered me on, wanting to see Mingi fail, after a few more rounds I was finally able to pin Mingi with the sword.

"See I knew you could do it" Yeosang said as the guy's clapped Mingi pouted once he lost but then laughed as he patted me on the back telling me well done.

"Land head!" Wooyoung yelled as we all turned around seeing the huge island that was getting bigger the closer we got, tuns of ship docked, as the island was crowded.

"Yn, Welcome to Tortuga" San said walking up behind me, Mingi next to me as he smiled with excitement, Jongho watched rubbing his hands together, probably thinking about stealing. The whole island looked colourful as I watched in amazement.

[scaredofheroin]

Captain N - Chapter 19: Punching In

A sudden and loud knocking on the door jerked Captain N awake from his slumber, where he tumbled off of the rickety cot in surprise. He was able to shield his head with his arms from impacting the hard floor, where he slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had been using his varsity jacket as a cover, which fell onto the floor as he regained his bearings. The lights in the gym were off and the sun had not yet risen outside, so he couldn't see neither the three others who were sleeping, nor the person outside. As he noticed the clock read 6:58, the person on the other side knocked on the door again. His first instinct was to open the door, as Doc Louis said he would return early in the morning. But it was two minutes earlier than 7 AM. Was it really Doc Louis? Or was it a Koopa or Waddle Dee? He did spend all of yesterday not in disguise, he remembered. It's likely he was spotted in the middle of the giant crowds crowding the streets of New Donk City. As his heart began to race with the possibility of his journey ending so soon, he heard Pit sneak up next to him, barely able to make him out in the darkness.

"You heard it too?" Captain N whispered to Pit, his eyes locked on the door. "Sure did." He answered, carefully eyeing the door. Once again, the sound of the mystery newcomer knocking on the door rang throughout the small gym, this time with the sound of the person jiggling the door handle. Captain N carefully drew his Zapper and as he considered approaching the door, Pit drew his two blades and tip-toed towards the door. Captain N quietly hissed at him, whispering "What if it's one of the three king's forces?". "We've dealt with plenty of those guys before, we'll be fine." Pit whispered back reassuringly.

"Those guys are patrolling every roof in the city, what if more of them hear us?"

"Then we'll fight them too!"

"Easy for you to say! This is all still new to me!"

As the two were whispering their debate on the best course of action, Zelda casually walked up to the door, unlocked it, and opened it to greet the guest. Before either of them could try to stop her, they found that the mystery person was, in fact, Doc Louis holding a small pile of green gym clothes. "Good morning, Princess." He politely greeted her, which she returned. Her hair was slightly messy, but she made the effort to make herself presentable enough. Sharing an awkward look with each other, Pit and Captain N holstered their weapons and got up off the floor. "And good morning to you two." Doc Louis greeted the drowsy pair behind Zelda. "G'morning." Captain N drowsily waved to him as he stuffed the Zapper back into his pocket. "Sorry for keeping you waiting, we thought you were one of Bowser's minions." Pit explained to him, standing up straight and stretching his arms. Doc Louis waved that off, replying "No worries, makes sense to worry about those guys.". Just then, Falco joined the group, switching the lights to the gym on without warning anyone. The sudden bright lights seared the eyes of the unsuspecting four, who quickly covered their eyes to shield their vision. "Geez, how about a warning next time?" Captain N groaned. "Yeah, good morning to you too." Falco sarcastically answered as he idly scratched himself. "I should get those checked out, things've been too bright for some time now." Doc Louis noted, adjusting more easily to the light. "Forgive me, he's usually not so brash." Zelda apologized for him, making Captain N and Pit share a small, knowing laugh. "No worries, helps wake me up." Doc Louis dismissed, his positive demeanor unchanged.

"So... do we head out now for the arena?" Captain N asked him. "Yup, gotta get there early to warm up and scope out the competition. Ryu and Little Mac are already there, you just need to officially sign in and you'll be ready to rumble." He explained, taking a chocolate bar out of his pocket and taking a bite. "Don't you think it's a little risky for him to keep walking through New Donk City without any disguise?" Falco asked as he leaned against the ring, farther away from the group. "That's why I brought you these." Doc Louis said as he tossed the gym clothes to Captain N, which he was barely able to catch in a graceful manner. The hesitation he held for holding gym clothes of unknown status was slightly visible on his face, as Doc Louis chuckled heartily and assured him "Don't worry, they were washed last night.". Captain N nervously laughed, holding out the sweater to compare its size to him. When held out lengthwise, the arms stretched out further than his own, and the sweater was long enough to pass his waist. The sweatpants were about as large, but both were manageable to wear. As he slipped on the two articles of clothing over his usual clothes, Falco snickered at the sight of him in the oversized clothes. "Good thinking, Doc. Nobody'll suspect this pile of green mush." He joked, earning some giggling from Pit. Zelda turned away, partially in attempt to hide a small smile. Captain N's cheeks felt slightly warmer at this attention, but laughed along goodhearted. "I've never been particularly fond of professional combat. I can hardly stomach such brutality." Zelda admitted, readjusting her sunhat. "Come on, seeing Ryu unleash the Shoryuken or the Hadouken? Seeing the strongest, toughest guys on the planet go toe-to-toe? That stuff's awesome!" Pit excitedly tried to persuade her. "I bet it's a lot more cool when WATCHING the fight." Captain N remarked, feeling his nose to ensure it was still attached to his face after his last fight. "Oh! Before I forget!" He suddenly realized, going back to pick up his varsity jacket off the floor. "Don't wanna forget that." Noted Pit. "Yeah, it's one of a kind." Captain N added jokingly. "You about ready, Mr. History-in-the-making?" Doc Louis asked him after taking a bite from his chocolate bar. Captain N puffed up his chest and took on a more bold stance for effect. "I feel like I could take on the world!" He answered, masking his inner turmoil about the competition. "Luckily you won't have to take on the entire world, just five of the most skilled fighters in the world. No pressure, though." Falco reminded him.

He felt the pressure.

"Well then, let's hit the road!" Doc Louis declared, stepping out of the doorway. When the four stepped out of the gym, they found an average sized car that, like everything else Captain N had seen in Yamajiro, was similar to the cars he was used to back on Earth, but different enough to be alien to him. The car was painted silver, had a much more rounded chassis, was noticeably older, and had four seats, with two in the front and two in the back. "After you, your majesty." Doc Louis graciously helped Zelda, opening the front door on the passenger side for her. She thanked him once again and carefully got into the car while managing her hat and sundress. "Quite the set of wheels you've got here." Falco noted, commenting on the car's aged nature. "Yup, she's needed some work done, but she's as reliable as ever." Doc Louis assured him pridefully after closing the door for Zelda. "So... how are the three of us gonna fit in there?" Pit asked him. He chuckled heartily and, motioning to Pit and Falco, answered "You two are gonna sit back here, Cap's gonna get more training in!". Captain N laughed nervously and asked "What do you mean?". "It's early in the morning, the air's crisp, and you've got your big fights today. You gotta get your heart pumping!" Doc Louis answered. "You mean I'm gonna run ALL THE WAY to the arena?" Captain N worriedly asked him, stepping back slightly. "Don't worry, it's not too far and I've got plenty of water in the trunk." Doc Louis assured him, tapping the trunk of the car. "Good luck with that." Falco flatly said to him before getting into the car, sliding into the seat directly behind Zelda. Unimpressed with Falco's lack of helpfulness, Captain N turned to Pit, hoping he could offer assistance. "The arena's not TOO far away, and we'll be right beside you if anything happens." Pit said, grabbing his shoulder reassuringly. Taking a moment to think, Captain N slowly became more okay with the idea. As long as he paces himself, he should be good.

Looks like all those Pacer Tests in Gym class were about to pay off.

"Alright, I'm ready." He declared. "That's the spirit! Let's get moving!" Doc Louis chimed in as Pit got into the seat directly behind the driver's seat. Captain N observed the surrounding streets as Doc Louis locked the door to the gym and . The foot and road traffic was significantly lighter compared to yesterday, and even though the sun had not yet fully risen, he could spot the vague outlines of the Koopa, Waddle Dees and Kremlings patrolling each and every rooftop lining the streets. Doc Louis's disguise had proven effective, as not one of the goons above paid much attention to him or the car before him. After the engine whirring for a moment, the car started up, the headlights now illuminating the road ahead. Doc Louis nodded at Captain N from inside the car. He took in a deep breath, mentally braced himself for the run and broke into a light jog. Doc Louis drove the car slowly beside him, matching his pace. Remembering his time in gym class, Captain N paced himself by jogging slower than he was capable of running. After all, there's more than a comparison to the national average lying ahead of him. The car drove slightly ahead of Captain N, guiding him throughout the concrete maze of the city. Thankfully, the jog to the arena was much less intense than sprinting through Castlevania or dodging blasts from airship cannons. His lungs thanked him for his slower pace, and enjoyed the jog while he ran. While he ran, his mind gradually phased the armed minions atop the buildings and even the threat of Bowser, King Dedede and King K. Rool. Captain N's mind savored only thinking about what was right in front of him. Right here, right now, all that mattered was the run. The roads and cars that passed him by started to feel more natural surrounding him. The sun slowly peeked over the buildings blocking out the horizon, gracing his face with the welcoming warmth of the morning rays. All that was missing was his music, he thought to himself. More and more people started to populate the sidewalks, but not too many to make jogging more troublesome than it already was. Doc Louis drove the car away from main street, as to not get in the way of the ordinary people trying to get around.

Despite the more relaxed nature of his jog, his lungs did have a limit. His legs started to slow their pace, slowly falling behind the car. If only he went out for football as a Freshman, maybe he'd be more prepared for the battles ahead. The rear left window lowered and Pit held his head out. "Catch!" Was the only warning Pit gave right before he tossed Captain N a plastic water bottle. Catching the bottle while running was almost enough to make him fall on his face, but he maintained enough grace to keep going. After rapidly gulping down the cool contents of the bottle, his first instinct was to toss the bottle over his shoulder like all those marathon runners in the Olympics. But environmental health was important to him, so he clutched the bottle as he jogged, tossing it into the first trash can he could see. That trash can was in the middle of being emptied into a large vehicle that he assumed to be a dump truck, and almost missed his opportunity. The run continued for about fifteen more minutes, by Captain N's measure. The buildings suddenly cleared up, allowing the sun's rays to pour over Captain N's body and revealing a huge field surrounding a massive, modern-looking stadium decorated with immense banners flowing in the wind, reading "WORLD WARRIOR TOURNAMENT". Energetic music like no other he had heard before could be heard from inside the stadium. An incredibly long line of cars crowded the road leading to the stadium's parking lot and entrance, all sitting still and waiting for something to happen beside the water fountains lining the entrance path. More R.O.B. workers moved in perfect formation on the opposite side of the arena, carrying crates of varying size into the rear entrance. Captain N couldn't help but be amazed by the scale of the arena, and even a little intimidated. Doc Louis took the opposite path away from the main entrance, and drove towards where the R.O.B.s were working. The rear entrance wasn't as nicely presented as the front, as Captain N noticed more trash lying around on the ground. After finding an appropriate place to park, Doc Louis got out of the car with the other three follow him. "So... how'd I... do?" Captain N panted, finally coming to a stop. "Not bad, son!" Doc Louis answered. "Yeah, coulda been worse." Falco added, surprisingly non-sarcastically. "Given the circumstances, I would say your efforts were admirable." Zelda noted, leaving Captain N not knowing how he should feel about that. "Here, have another!" Pit said to him, tossing another water bottle his way. The cold condensation forming outside the bottle proved to serve as a decent enough ice pack, which he drank from after applying it to his forehead. Doc Louis walked up to the attendant by the loading bay, who was overseeing the R.O.B.s. "Good to see you, Doc Louis." The man greeted him, seeming to not recognize Falco, Pit or Zelda in her disguise. "Good to see you, this here's the man that's taking Ryu's place." He said to him, patting Captain N on the shoulder. His stance wasn't entirely solid, and Doc Louis almost knocked him over with his gesture. Captain N awkwardly waved at the man, who didn't seem impressed by Ryu's replacement.

"Well, let's hope there's more to him than meets the eye." He shrugged, opening the door leading inside the arena. "Thanks, I guess." Captain N muttered as he walked inside with Doc Louis, with Zelda, Falco and Pit following closely. It was a strange feeling for Captain N to be "backstage" at such a big event, hearing the muffled sounds of excited audience members and energetic music. "First, we gotta get you checked in." Doc Louis said to him, leading on. None of the organizers or staff members paid Captain N much mind, apart from idle glances. The R.O.B.s passed by, focused purely on their assigned task. Soon enough, Captain N found himself at a receptionist's table with the rest of the group. "I assume you're the last minute addition?" The receptionist asked, a hint of impatience in her voice. "Y-Yeah, that's me." Captain N answered, feeling unwelcome. She pulls up a window on her computer and moves over to a blank space in the massive bracket of names. "So what do you call yourself?" She asked him. He put his fists on his hips and stands up straighter. "I'm Captain N." He boldly introduced himself. She didn't notice the Zapper holstered in his pocket, so she idly nodded and typed his name into the bracket. "Locker room's down the hall to the right. Your first match is in about two hours." She flatly states, pointing in the general direction of the locker room. "Great, thanks." He thanked her, and headed off down the hall. Falco looked like he wanted to make a rude comment to the receptionist, but Zelda stopped him. Pit quickly walked alongside Doc Louis taking in the atmosphere. "Oh man, oh man, oh man, this is so cool!" He giddily said, his eyes darting around the halls. Captain N found the doors that seemingly led inside the men's locker rooms. Inside he was assaulted with the scent of intense sweat. Fortunately this stench was consistent with what he experienced in gym class. Once his nostrils recovered, he saw Little Mac and Ryu sitting on a nearby bench, who look up to see Captain N.

"About time you got here, we were starting to worry you bailed on us." Little Mac said to him, while Ryu simply nodded at him. "Hey, come on, it's not like I had anywhere else to go." Captain N reminded him. "It's still admirable of you to rise to the challenge." Ryu assured him. "He wouldn't have to if you just told us where the castle is." Falco bitterly reminded him, suddenly walking into the room with Pit and Doc Louis. Ryu paid him no mind. "So this is the famous locker room!" Pit quietly said, dazzled as he looked around the room. "Yep, kinda gets old after a while. It IS a locker room, after all." Little Mac said with a smile. "But how!? So many awesome fighters stood where we're standing now!" Pit went on. "Once you've met them once or twice, you realize they're people just like you or me." Doc Louis chuckled. "Say, where's Zelda?" Falco asked, noticing she wasn't with the rest of the group. "I'd rather wait out here, don't mind me." Zelda spoke up from outside, not feeling entirely welcome in the men's locker room. Captain N shrugged and turned back to the two. "So how're you feeling?" Little Mac asked him. "Ready as I'll ever be." he answered, still not entirely confident in his ability to win an actual fight. "Come sit next me." Ryu invited him. Once he was seated, Ryu closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Close your eyes and breathe in and out steadily. Peace of mind is crucial to overcoming your opponents." Ryu stated. He followed his instruction, and tried to get into a peaceful state of mind. This proved somewhat troublesome for him, as his mind was more preoccupied with worrying about the fights that drew ever closer. Every time he tried to shove those thoughts out of his mind, they barged their way back in. Just as he was starting to relax, Falco interrupted with an annoyed groan. "When's the fight gonna start?" He impatiently asked anyone who would know. "They'll let us know over the intercom, now will you lighten up?" Doc Louis said back to him, and knowing that was the best response he was gonna get, Falco rolled his eyes and leaned back against the row of lockers. Pit pulled Little Mac away and the two started chatting about his fighting career, allowing Captain N to focus on his meditation. Ryu was undisturbed by the commotion, and remained at peace. Closing his eyes, Captain N forced himself to maintain a slow, deep breathing rhythm. It required some work on his part, but he actually managed to achieve a level of zen. Bringing his mind back to where it was while he was jogging, he was able to bring his mind to a more peaceful state. He spent the next few minutes like this, savoring the peace and quiet, even ignoring the odor of countless sweaty garments.

"Captain N to arena entrance B." Suddenly came a voice over the intercom.

He opened his eyes, his inner fear returning.

"Well, showtime, Cap. Knock 'em dead!" Doc Louis cheered him on. Reluctantly, he stood up and looked back at the group. "We can watch the match from in here. If anything happens, we'll come running." Zelda assured, peeking from outside the room. Nodding gratefully at her, he steeled his nerve and walked down the hall to his first real fight.

[wolvesofinnistrad]

Hey, Love your BallumSex cannons. Can you do some more with Top Callum and Bottom Ben. Some where Ben can't believe how big Callum is. And them being really kinky about it Thank you :)

Hmm I can see like size kink but idk how much other kink will come into this (but rest assured I have at least 2 other kinky Ballum asks in my inbox so it will be done.  :D

(Headcanons under the assumption all the did was jerk each other off and very quick blowjob in the park because it makes it more interesting here.)

Objectively Ben knew Callum was big that night in the park.  

Like, the thing felt HEAVY in his hand.

But it was dark and heated and fast and dirty and the most he got out of it was trying to wrap his lips around it.

Of course Callum had come, not embarrassingly fast, but fast enough Ben didn’t nearly have enough time to really process what his dick felt like, tasted like, smelled like, and just how big it truly was.

When they’re finally together he gets his chance, they’re kissing on the couch, somehow lazy and heated.

“Callum your arm is digging into my hip.”

Ben looks at his boyfriend and he sees him blush, then feels two hands grab his ass.

“That’s not your arm is it...” Ben says, gulping as Callum shakes his head, clearly a bit shy still.

Ben drops his head to Callum’s chest and groans, sends out a thanks to whatever god deemed him worthy of a boyfriend that was both as nice as Callum was, and blessed with a humongous cock.

Ben’s a size queen, so sue him he knows what he likes.

He’s had guys that were big before, a nice 7 or 8 inches, once even a 9 inch bloke from India that made Ben act like a little bitch in heat over his prick.

But Callum, he doesn’t know if his brain is going to turn to mush as he stares at it through Callum’s slacks.

His hand comes over it and strokes him through the pants, making Callum moan almost as much as Ben does.

His hands shake as he undoes the zipper and pulls Callum’s pants down around his thighs, watching that massive cock spring free.

Ben’s just, in awe of it’s size.

Callum is by far bigger than any man he’s been with before, for fucks sake he’s bigger than some porn stars he’s watched in his favorite category (big cock, obvi)

“You alright?”

“Yes just, bloody hell Callum, you’ve got a monster between your legs...”

Callum gets shy at that, blushing.  “Is it too big?  I know Whit said before that it was, uh, scary.”

Ben reaches out and grabs hold of Callum’s cock, whining when he realizes that his hand just barely wraps around it fully, if it were any thicker his fingers would just barely reach.

“Callum, I need you to understand that you have the prettiest, hugest, most mouthwatering cock I’ve ever seen in my life and if I don’t suck it and ride it right this moment I think I might actually die.”

Callum blushes deeper at that, but he seems happy that Ben isn’t scared off by his size.

Ben wonders how Callum is going to react when he has someone that truly enjoys that size for all its worth.

“Ok, fuck this, off the couch, out of the clothes, I need you on the bed for this.”

Callum complies and when Ben’s sitting over his boyfriend on the bed once more he reaches for his edible lube (because of course he has that) and starts slathering it on Callum’s hard cock.

He holds the base steady and that’s when it hits him.  He takes his other hand and places it above that hand on the shaft.  

There’s still more cock even with both his hands on the shaft.

“Fucking shit...”

Ben can’t control himself any longer and dives in, taking what’s left in his mouth and sucking like a man possessed.

He hears Callum gasping and moaning, and it’s so incredibly hot, but what’s crazier is that he can tell he’s got at least a good 4 inches in his mouth before his lips touch his hand.

For a moment Ben thinks he might actually cry.

He just starts going to town sucking Callum off, using both hands (Both hands!!!) to jerk his boyfriend off fully.

“Fuck, Ben, that feels amazing...”

Ben doesn’t say that his mouth is literally watering and would have been more than enough to lube Callum’s cock alone.

He sucks to the head, lips gathering the foreskin and tugging it, even getting a bit risky and gently, very gently, grabbing it with his teeth which makes Callum moan harder.

After that he slowly pulls the foreskin back and works on the head.

His hole twitches at the thought of taking this inside him, his mouth is having a bit of a go trying to get it to fit.

If he has to buy a dildo training kit to work up to taking every glorious inch of his boyfriend he will, he’s going to get all of that inside him.

Stopping for a moment he moves up to kiss Callum, wanting to reassure him that this isn’t just about his massive cock, evne if his brain is kind of hyperfocusing on that aspect right now.

Ben’s never worried about his own size, mostly becaue he’s a power bottom, but he’s got a respecteble 7 inches or so, but next to Callum’s massive manhood even he looks tiny.

“Callum, Cal, I need you to know, I want to ride you til I drain every last drop out of those huge balls (because Callum’s got some grapefruits on him too), but it might take a bit because you are just, bloody insanely large.  But I like it, I really, really like it, ok?”

Callum nods, kissing Ben and smiling.  “Glad you aren’t freaked out.”

“Callum if you knew gay men better you’d understand how funny that question is.  But yes, I love you, and I love this cock.”

Ben goes back to blowing Callum after they kiss for a bit, but he grabs the lube again and begins to finger himself.

It’s been a while since he’s had a good fuck, especially anything close to Callum’s size, but he’s a trooper and he wants it really really bad.

After a while of trying to get the angle right he concedes he could use some help.

Besides Callum’s hands are frankly massive as well and he’s pretty sure a few of those fingers will do more to open him than his own, evne if they’re less skilled.

So he flips around, wagging his ass in his boyfriend’s face as he keeps sucking his cock.

“Mind a little help?”

Callum lubes up his fingers, surprised at the pleasant smell of the lube (”It’s strawberry”) and starts to work on Ben’s ass.

Ben’s moans are muffled by having that fat prick in his mouth, but it’s still enough to make Callum even harder, cock leaking directly onto Ben’s tongue with more precum.

By the time Callum has three fingers sliding nicely into his lover, Ben has managed to get about halfway to three quarters of Callum down his throat.

Even with having no gag reflex its tough, and the position isn’t right, but Ben promises himself he’s going to start training with some dildos for his mouth to if he has to, he just wants to be able to have all of Callum in him.

Ben breaks away, thankful for the reprieve as his jaw was beginning to hurt, and moves up to kiss Callum as he lubes his cock  again.

“Should I, uh, you know, get on top?” Callum asks, earnest and uncertain.

“Normally, I’d say sure, but with this big boy,” Ben chuckles as he strokes Callum’s cock, “I think I need to be in control.”

Callum nods dutifully and Ben moves back, rocking his ass on Callum’s dick, letting it slide between his cheeks so that both the shaft and his hole are completely covered in lube.

He’s going to have to change these sheets first thing in the morning.

“Can you just, hold the base so it’s steady, right?” Ben asks, arching up on his knees.

Callum does as asked, using his other hand to help Ben steady some, or maybe just an excuse to touch him.

Ben moves against the blunt head of Callum’s cock and groans, feels it stretching him just to take that.

“Fuck, fuckkkkk,” Ben moans as he keeps pressing until finally the head pops past his tight ring.

he can feel his hole stretched taut, muscles trying to close but unable to thanks to the girth keeping him open.

Ben hears Callum hiss in pleasure and he slaps a hand on his chest.

“Just, gimme a minute to adjust, shit...”

“Just take it slow, we don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want.”

“I want, I very much bloody want Callum.”

“Okay, I just don’t want ya getting hurt.”

“Trust me, I know my limits.  I’m not taking it all tonight, by far.  I gotta work up to that.  So lucky you, I’m gonna need a lot of practice.”

They both laugh at that, smiling and kissing as Ben adjusts to the intrusion.

Over the next five or ten minutes Ben slowly works more of Callum’s impressive length inside him, until he’s about halfway.

“Halfway, yeah?  Fuck, that name was more apt than I thought.”

Callum rolls his eyes at that, giving Ben a little pat on the bum too.

“Ok, I think this is about all I can take, roll over?”

They exchange positons, Callum over Ben now, still inside him, the movement making them both moan.

“OK, ok, take your hand and put it here,” Ben says, making Callum grab his own dick about two inches from where it’s lodged in Ben.

“Just, keep your hand there and you can fuck me, with that much of your dick.  I can take that much right now, just, try not to do any more than that okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s too much I’ll stop you.  Just, trust me Callum.”

Callum does, and he bends down to lay a kiss on Ben’s lips before drawing back out and going back in.

Ben’s so incredibly tight that Callum can barely stand it.

Callum is so incredibly large that Ben thinks he might cum on the spot.

The strokes are slow and measured, cautious, but Ben’s thankful for it because he feels split open on every thrust.

The burn is intense, but with Callum’s girth he can’t help but drag over Ben’s prostate with every thrust in and out which offsets it all with bursts of white hot pleasure.

Ben loses time for a while, the pleasure and stretch and the feel of Callum’s hand on his hip to ground him swirling together.

Callum is careful never to go past the limit Ben set, evne as he speeds up, his own hunger growing.

“I think I got a hang of where the limit is.  I’m gonna take off my hand okay?”

Ben barely evne hears him but he nods.

Callum starts really plowing him then, but he’s not getting more than he had before, just faster, harder.

Ben’s eyes roll up into the back of his head as Callum really doesn’t even need skill at this point, he just has to press into Ben and he’s a moaning, mewling mess.

A low whine breaks from Ben’s throat, turning into a high pitched Keen as Callum lifts his ankles over his shoudlers and really starts hitting him deep.

“More, gimme more.  I wwant that big fucking cock Callum!”

“No Ben, you said to be cautious.  You aren’t taking all of me tonight.”

“PLease, I need ti fuck!”

“No.”

Ben is begging for it like a cockslut after that, almost crying for Callum to give him all of it, but Callum never does, and later Ben will be thankful for that since he’d be wrecked if he tried to take it all tonight.

So lost in pleasure is Ben that he doesn’t evne notice his orgasm sneaking up, only that his own pleasure is building higher and higher.

Callum’ groaning and grunting and the sunds and the feel and all of it just becomes too much and Ben is coming untouched, screaming as the orgasm rocks his body.

His hole is practically convulsing, but it’s so filled by Callum it can’t barely move, which seems to create a feedback loop of sensations that drives the orgams on longer, milking Callums’ cock.

“Fuck, Ben!” Callum spills over then, the pressure on his cock too much as he pumps Ben full.

They both collapse after that, a tangled mess of limbs, sweaty and sticky bodies clinging together as they try to catch their breath.

Its about five minutes before either of them can speak, but finally Ben manages “I feel like I’ve been impaled.”

There’s a soft laugh after it though so Callum doesn’t worry too much.

“Was it...  good for ya?” Callum asks, still out of breath.

Ben turns to Callum with slightly glazed eyes.  “If it were any better I think I might have passed on.  I’d be in one of those pine boxes of yours tomorrow.  Here lies Ben Mitchell, fucked to death by Callum Highway’s massive fucking prick.”

“Shut up!”  Callum shoves Ben playfully.

“Ben’s entire insides had been rearranged by that monster cock.  Reports say Mr. Highway was arrested for smuggling a lethal weapon in his pants.”

Callum hides his face, laughing more than he has in years, feeling lighter and better than he has either.

And Ben, Ben feels so fucked out that hes not sure he can work tomorrow.

He might not evne be able to walk

“Seriously, they should knight your cock Callum, for services to the country.”

“It’s only serving one man now.”

“I will gladly be the sheathe for your blade good knight, the throne for your-”

“Ben, shut up.”

Ben smiles, kisses Callum.  He can get used to this.

[chemicalmagecraft]

Taiyuu High OCT Audition

@taiyuu-high-oct

In a building erected in a fake city on an island that wasn't there a year ago, a horde of teenagers had gathered in front of a nervous-looking deer-man holding a microphone.

"Th-thank you all for coming today," the deerlike man in the suit said. "Today, you will take part in the entrance examination for Taiyuu High." The crowd of assembled hero hopefuls cheered. "Please, allow me to finish! I see that everyone is eager to begin, but before that I need to explain the rules of the exam!" After the examinees quieted down, he took a deep breath and continued. "Why couldn't Chikyu have done this... Thank you. Now, the entrance exam is, for lack of a better term, an obstacle course. Each examinee must do their best to reach the finish line. You may attack or purposefully hinder your fellow examinees, but you are also allowed to to help each other as well. The boundary of this obstacle course is the entirety of this facility, so please don't leave the building. If you do, you will be disqualified. Now that I have said that, the exam will begin shortly! Please wait behind the starting line and ready yourselves until that time." The deer-man sighed and scampered off.

The examinees gladly lined up, a general aura of excitement falling over the crowd. One examinee in particular was especially excited. Inoue Hiraku, a green-eyed boy wearing a lime green tie-dye t-shirt, gym shorts, and steel-toed boots. He had a cocky grin as he walked to the start, his stride just fast enough that he made it to the front of the crowd. "My Quirk was made for this!" he boasted. Hiraku did a few stretches before taking a deep breath.

A deep, deep breath.

He breathed in and in and in, inhaling more air than a regular human could possibly hold. The force of his sucking was so great that the examinees around him felt the draft. "Wh-what's up with your arms?" one of the examinees next to him, a nervous-looking boy with purple-black hair and black x eyes, asked, pointing to one of the many small holes that littered the surface of his skin. Almost all of the holes were hissing slightly, like they were sucking in air. Which they were.

Hiraku chuckled nervously. "My valves. Freaky, right? That's Mutant Quirks for ya!"

"Go," a lackadaisical woman's voice sounded from the speakers.

"Ch-chikyu!" the deer-man from earlier shouted. "You have to give them a countdown!"

"Pssh, you don't get countdowns in real life. Now what are you guys waiting for? Go!"

The deer-man's long-suffering sigh could be heard from the speakers. "Just... just start already."

Hiraku stopped inhaling, started running, and then exhaled. Specifically, he exhaled through some of the valves on his arms, legs, and back, propelling himself forward with jets of pressurized air. Hiraku sprinted toward the first obstacle, which appeared to be stairs, using his air jets. At the same time, he sucked some air in from the valves he wasn't using for propulsion. He couldn't breathe in nearly as well while using his air jets even though he'd been practicing specifically that, but it wasn't that much of a concern at the moment. Hiraku could hold a lot of air in his lungs. After all, breathing was basically his Quirk, Pneuma. With the speed his Quirk gave him, he approached the stairs within seconds. The way the stairs were arranged, one set of stairs leading up to another so that it slowly led up to the next obstacle, almost reminded Hiraku of the first level of Donkey Kong. All it was missing was...

Holes opened up in the walls at the top and bottom of each staircase. And there came the barrels. "Are they even allowed to do that?" Hiraku thought to himself. He shrugged, then charged forward. Instead of actually taking the stairs, though, he jumped, sending blasts of air from his palms and through the holes Hana-kun had strategically drilled in the bottoms of his shoes to boost him higher. When he landed halfway up the obstacle, he jumped again, landing him on the other side of the Donkey Kong stairs. He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing on to the next obstacle, which was a hallway with those column things with spinning bars on them meant to hit you that you sometimes see in training courses in movies that Hiraku didn't know the name of or even if they a name.

"C'mon, that's so cliché," Hiraku muttered.

"I know, right?" a girl's voice said. Hiraku jumped and turned to see a blue-and-white-haired girl with what looked like a lollipop in her mouth. He felt like he'd seen her somewhere before. Maybe when he accompanied Mom to the hospital? She nodded at him, then jumped on top of one of them. The girl bunny-hopped from column-thing to column-thing.

Hiraku shrugged. "I can do that." He took a deep breath, then shot up, landing on top of one of the columns before jumping again. This time, he angled his jets more horizontally, throwing himself most of the way through the gauntlet. He missed the column he was aiming for, though. "Shoot!" he said. After a moment of panic, he pointed his hands and feet at the ground. He shot jets of air from each, blasting himself up before got hit by the spinner thing. "Double jump!" he shouted as he landed on a column on the edge of the hallway. He jumped off, using a small burst of air to cushion his fall as he landed on a ramp down to the next obstacle. Hiraku kept up a steady, low-pressure stream of air that he'd figured out made the ground under his feet slippery, like air hockey or one of those hovercraft things. He took the opportunity to take a couple deep breaths. The good thing about hovering was that it was a lot easier to breathe in using low-pressure air while not moving than with high-pressure air while running, though at the same time he couldn't quite use other air jets very well while focusing on hovering.

Hiraku let himself slide down the ramp, picking up speed. The next obstacle looked like it was a maze. The walls were tall, but not too tall that he couldn't get up there. Hiraku thought back to when the deer man told them the rules. "If the entire building is in bounds..." he muttered. "Idea!" He leaned forward with a grin, aiming for the wall. When the ground started to even out, he switched to air jet-powered running. "Haaaaaaaagh!" Instead of ramming into the wall and failing miserably, he jumped and started running up it. He used his air jets to keep himself going up. It was close, but Hiraku managed to grab the top of the wall before he started falling. He panted for a few moments, building air pressure back up, before swinging himself up with a jet or two. "Man, that was awesome!"

"MOTION DETECTED," a robotic voice said. Hiraku saw what looked like a robot skeleton on another maze wall in front of him. The robot pointed a gun with a large barrel at him.

"Please tell me that just shoots bean bags..." he muttered.

"DO NOT WORRY, THIS IS AN AIR CANNON."

Hiraku grinned. "Really? I have one of those too!" He pointed his palm at the robot. "Pneumatic Cannon!" A high-pressure blast of air shot from not just the robot's cannon but also the enlarged holes in Hiraku's hand. The two blasts of air hit each other, cancelling out. Of course, Hiraku had another hand. "Yeet!" The robot was sent flying off the top of the wall, breaking over the corner of yet another wall. Hiraku chuckled and started jumping across the maze, moving forward over the maze much fast than he would've been able to from within it. Occasionally he had to destroy some robots, but that wasn't too difficult. About midway through the maze, Hiraku saw the blue-haired lollipop girl from earlier. There was a robot behind her that she didn't seem to have noticed. He shot himself at it, hitting it with a jet-enhanced kick. Its head came clean off.

"Thanks," she said. "Name's Tokachi Ameko." She jumped off before Hiraku could actually tell her his name...

Hiraku shrugged and continued on with the maze. He didn't have any actual trouble with it. The robots were really easy to break and his Quirk made it pretty much impossible for him to fall unless he did something really stupid. He stopped when he got to the end, though. "Water," Hiraku sighed, "my old enemy." A large pool filled the rest of the course, several platforms floating on its surface. It looked like it was a wave pool, too...

Someone behind him snorted. "How is water your enemy?" a guy with blue-and-purple wings asked.

"Well you see, a long time ago the water tried to kill me and I haven't forgiven it since."

The guy winced. "Sorry."

Hiraku chuckled. "S'cool." He surveyed the area while the winged guy jumped off. Hiraku did not want to get near the water if he could help it. "C'mon, there's gotta be a..." There.

Hiraku ran to the walls above one of the exits. It had a stretch of hallway leading up to it, which meant he could use it for a running leap. He grinned as he took a deep breath, then gunned his jets. He dashed forward, and when he reached the end he launched himself into the air. "Wahoooooooo!" he shouted, the water rushing by below him. He breathed in with his whole body. "This is awesome!" He double jumped when he started to get too low, then his eyes widened when he realized he was almost to the ground but still coming in hot. "OH SHOOT!" He panicked for a moment before shooting his hands out in front of him. He took in a deep breath before shooting his jets, slowing himself down. Before he hit the ground, he tucked himself into a roll, just like Hana-kun taught him. He sprang onto his legs with a light jet boost and ran the last few meters before the finish line. "Whoo! he shouted as he slowed down and started panting. He looked at the screen by the finish line, which showed him his time, and grinned. "Yeah, that's probably good."

[atinytokki]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨

Chapter 5: The Kraken

It had been mildly stressful for Wooyoung as he’d worked under Jongho all morning with one eye on whatever task was at hand and the other eye on the island where he knew the Captain and those with him were scoping things out.

He had watched anxiously from the deck as sharks had surrounded the longboats on the way back and jumped in to help them aboard. San had grasped his hand and glanced up at him, fear in his eyes.

Neither of them had ever seen sharks attack like that.

He’d been having thoughts about running for it as soon as they found civilised land.

Captain Hongjoong seemed determined to sail east and face any obstacle without a thought for the lives of his crew and having seen the risks faced just that morning for whatever the Captain’s secret quest was, Wooyoung liked the idea of being alive.

It wasn’t so bad under Si-Hyuk if he remembered correctly, other than lack of pay and sparse meals. At least Si-Hyuk had stayed in familiar waters most of the time.

He was still curious about the unknown however, so that afternoon, Wooyoung caught a break and found San on deck gazing at Smokey Island.

“What was it like?” He asked. San turned to face him and worked his mouth into a small frown. “For me, not as exciting as last time Captain put me on boarding party.”

Wooyoung raised his eyebrows, remembering their conversation last night. Yeosang had jabbed at San for being scared of wild creatures because of something that had happened at their last stop. San went on to tell the tale without prompting.

“It was a few weeks back, we landed on another supposedly uninhabited island with caves on it, and of course we went in those caves to look for clues and such and, well, we found something else...”

San’s face turned red with embarrassment at the memory. “There was a dragon.”

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “A dragon? You’re sure it wasn’t just a large lizard-”

“No, it was a dragon. With wings. Breathed fire,” San cut him off matter-of-factly.

Wooyoung shook his head in amazement. “Yeosang didn’t believe it either,” San shrugged and went on with the story.

“The dragon was asleep on a pile of gold, and Captain warned us all to be quiet while we searched around for clues-”

“Clues?”

San shrugged again. “Evidence of other humans, anything to prove someone had been there. Captain always has us look for clues like that when we land on an island.”

Wooyoung wanted to ask more but San was already moving on with the story. “I was going through some very nice looking jewels towards the top of the pile when, well, I happened to lose my balance and dropped one... on the dragon’s face.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“I made a run for it and the others realised what had happened and followed but it was all we could do to get off the island before the dragon came flying out at top speed, scorching the whole place in fire. I could still feel the heat on my face as the ATEEZ sailed away,” San shivered at the memory. “No one was killed or injured but... that’s why I wasn’t sure about landing party this time. I knew Captain wasn’t happy I had caused any potential clues on Dragon Island to go up in flames, but I’m also not too keen on caves anymore.”

“Captain’s party went in the caves,” Wooyoung pointed out.

San nodded. “But all Mingi and I found was an empty cabin, an unreadable map, and some over-ambitious sharks.”

“Who do you think was here before?” Wooyoung asked him, trying again to get San to talk about what the point of this journey east was. But San simply shrugged.

“There’s no way for me to tell. Whoever they were, they’re dead now. Skeletons in the bottom of that cave,” he shivered again.

“I hear the skeletons had pirate clothing,” a familiar voice came from behind them. They turned to see Yeosang standing there with a pen and paper, apparently having just left the Captain’s quarters. This was news to Wooyoung.

“Who told you that?” San asked with an even tone.

“Captain,” Yeosang flashed a broad smile. “No offence, but Captain and Yunho’s story is a fair bit more interesting than yours and Mingi’s, San.”

San rolled his eyes but Wooyoung wanted to hear it. Yeosang went on to tell about how Yunho fell down the hole and found the skeletons and the gold and how Hongjoong broke up a fight and discovered the gold was cursed.

“It definitely sounds like a curse to me,” Wooyoung mumbled to himself, though he was immediately overheard by both San and Yeosang.

“I pity them, whoever they are,” Yeosang sighed.

“Well I don’t,” San contradicted quickly. “That’s what you get when you mess around with cursed treasure.”

“I don’t believe in curses,” Yeosang countered.

“Then how do you explain the skeletons?”

“Most likely they were trapped in there and killed each other as they went mad!”

Wooyoung interjected before the argument got out of hand again, “Didn’t Captain himself say the treasure was cursed, though?”

San smirked at Yeosang, thinking he had won Wooyoung over, but Yeosang was cool under pressure. “Captain can do and think what he wants, but until I have evidence—”

“That’s it!” San exclaimed, exasperated. “We’ve got to get him on landing party sometime! The rest of the crew has seen mermaids, witches, and dragons since this voyage started but you won’t even believe in curses until you see them yourself!”

Yeosang had to admit he did want to get on a landing party but a cry from the crow’s nest interrupted him.

“Something in the water!” All three heads whipped to the direction Yunho was pointing to from above and searched the water.

Sure enough, just off their port a dark shape moved alarmingly quickly toward them through the waves. Jongho materialised out of nowhere and instructed Wooyoung to ready the harpoons as the Captain and quartermaster came on deck.

Hongjoong handed the spyglass to Mingi. “It’s not a whale.”

Mingi caught a glimpse of tentacle and shuddered. He tried to rationalise, but both of them knew they were going to be dealing with something very unnatural.

“Squid? You know, we’re not even in deep water yet- I might’ve imagined that tentacle...”

He handed the spyglass back to Hongjoong who took a second look and shook his head, an uncomfortable feeling brewing in his chest. “It’s bigger than any squid I’ve seen,” he admitted before yelling up to Yunho, “What do you see?”

Yunho’s face was pale as he answered, “Kraken.”

“Impossible,” Yeosang who had joined them had his eyes fixed on the shape as it began to lift its head above the water.

Crew members sprung into action. Seonghwa had heard the commotion and was coming up from the hold when a massive tentacle shot across the width of the ship, almost knocking him off his feet. Yeosang let out a yelp and ran to the older pirate’s side.

“Let’s get you below deck, Yeosang,” Seonghwa took Yeosang’s arm but was stopped by San pulling on Yeosang’s other arm.

“No no! Let him watch! I’ll bet he didn’t believe in krakens before just now!”

Wooyoung had no experience with harpoons but was closely following Jongho’s instructions as quickly as possible. There were now two colossal tentacles stretched across the ship trying to cleave it in half, and a third tentacle was headed for the crow’s nest before the first harpoon was shot.

The kraken reeled back with an ear-splitting screech as the metal sunk into its flesh, but kept a tight hold on the ship, resisting the swords and gunfire pelting the other two tentacles. Now that it was angered, it fully raised itself out of the water.

Wooyoung swallowed as he realised its head was larger than the ATEEZ herself, and the shortest tentacle was at least long as the mainmast.

Mingi’s voice boomed out from the quarterdeck, “Don’t let it penetrate our hull! Keep all tentacles in sight and accounted for! Load the cannons!”

Jongho stood up suddenly and looked around at who was with him. Only Wooyoung and a few other powder monkeys who had been on deck were there, working with the harpoons.

Jongho ran below to bring the rest of the boys out and start readying the cannons, but was caught by Mingi. “Jongho, why aren’t the cannons loaded yet? Kraken at ten o’clock!”

Jongho shot him a look over his shoulder, “I’m trying to do two jobs here! Get yourself a master gunner and then you can complain!”

Mingi’s response was cut off by a tentacle shooting his direction and sticking its suction cups to his feet.

He hacked at it with his cutlass in a panic, but another tentacle grasped his arm and before he knew it he was being pulled up into the air. Jongho stretched his arm toward him as he realised what was happening, but the kraken was too quick.

Jongho watched, speechless, as Mingi was swung through the air until Hongjoong made his way to the railing and unloaded his musket on the base of the tentacle, severing it in half.

Mingi tumbled down into the water just as a black ink oozed out of the monster and began to spread. He surfaced, coughing and spluttering on the dark substance and reached for the ladder being tossed toward him.

He summoned all his strength and swam toward it, praying the kraken would be distracted by the cannon fire that was erupting from the deck.

Just as soon as Mingi had been hauled onboard, covered head to toe in black sticky ink, another crewman was snatched from the rigging.

Wooyoung saw Jongho being split between harpoons and cannons so he hastily loaded three of the closest cannons himself and instructed the other boys to bring more powder and cannonballs. He was surprised for a moment that they were obeying him without complaint but they were scared for their lives and knew Jongho was too busy with harpoons to give orders.

Urgently, he aimed the cannon nearest the monster at the base of the tentacle holding the crewman and fired it. His aim was impeccable and the arm detached and went limp, releasing the pirate.

Hongjoong turned from hacking the nearest tentacle to look at where the shot had come from. Their newest addition had successfully saved a fellow crew member.

As he prepared to lower the ladder into the water and rescue him, the Captain noticed something glinting in the hand of the pirate. It was the golden goblet from Smokey Island.

His eyes flew to the crewman’s face. It was the same one who had started the fight in the cave and evidently had stolen the cursed treasure against direct orders.

Enraged, Hongjoong pulled the man up by his collar and dragged him down to the prison hold without a single word. “I’ll deal with you later,” he hissed as he locked the metal cell and turned to go back on deck.

He was a few steps away when Seonghwa appeared at his side breathless and with bad news.

“Captain, the kraken’s made a hole in the ship.”

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx

A/N: Another cliffhanger!! Don’t worry the next chapter will be along soon. Please like/reblog and support! <3

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

[sumsmasterpiece]

The Grand King Affair Chapter Sneek Peek:

Chapter Name: Tobacco Kiss

The breeze was warm against Tooru’s face, sweeping his bangs from his sweat speckled brow. Using his small hand-fan, Tooru was waving it to find some comfort, but to no avail. The hand fan was made of aqua lace, intricate and beautiful with an ivory handle which has been passed down in the Oikawa family for generations.   

“Why is it so hot?” he whined, laying his back completely against the willow tree behind him.

The face of his alpha adjusted, opening his beautiful eyes to stare up at his lover, “It’s summer, of course, it’ll be hot,” he answered.

The omega looked down at the alpha laying on his lap and grinned wickedly, “so mean, Iwa-chan.” He places the hand fan down on the blanket underneath them.

The General sighed and lifted himself up, “how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me by that ridiculous nickname?” He leaned in and kissed the omegas ear and whispered in his husky voice, “especially when you whine out much prettier things when I'm inside you,” his teeth tugged at the earlobe and Tooru shuttered.

“So lewd. So dangerous,” the omega panted, licking his pink lips.

The scent of slick wafted in the hot summer breeze, meeting the alphas nostrils. A grin that shared all the intentions and promises of what he would be doing, plastered itself across the alpha’s face. “You know it,” his finger trail down the pink lips of his lover.

The omega opened his mouth and took the finger into the warm cavern. His tongue lightly flecked against the pad of the finger and slowly his mouth worked to take the whole digit in. Brown eyes never leaving those hazel green ones. Hajime’s words were forgotten.

The alpha’s eyes glazed over with awe and amusement. The queen looked breathtaking no matter what he did. Such elegance, yet still, this moment felt so lewd. Tooru’s tongue swirled around the finger, bobbing his head and sucked graciously. After a few bobs of the brunettes head, his teeth lightly scraped over the finger lightly. All that ran through Hajime’s head was how those pretty pink lips and expert tongue would feel on a different part of his body, his cock more specifically.

Hajime pulled his finger free and an almost whine came from his lover's throat. “Patience, pet. I know what you want, believe me.” The alpha purred.

“Hajime~” A moan rippled past the moist lips.

The said alpha lifted his head, moving his body until he sat in front of the omega whose hips were squirming. He lifted the white skirt of Tooru’s sundress and smiled. “No underwear, huh? And you are already leaking, what a good boy.” He praised, his calloused fingers grazing the side of his inner thigh were some slick was. The alpha brought his finger to his lips and licked the salty body fluid, humming in approval.

“Stop teasing, Iwa-chan. I need you.” Tooru bucked his hips forward, his hands are frantic and bunching the dresses skirt around his waist. His right-hand trails down to his folds and begins to stroke himself in a frantic manner, eager to relieve some tension. Instead of removing the omega’s hands and doing what his omega demanded, Hajime thought the desperate motions of his omega to be utterly adorable and watched as the hand and fingers inched in more and more inside of the omega’s core. “Iwa-chan!” He pleaded.  

“But you are doing such a good job on your own.” The alpha teased, rubbing circles on the omega’s hips.

“I do this enough when I can’t see you, but you are right here and I want your huge cock in me right now and--” Their lips smashed together and it was a swirl of tongues and teeth and hands. Both ending and beginning where the other was, perfectly in sync.

Iwaizumi was the first to part, gazing down in those lust filled chocolate eyes. “If you say more sinful things like that, I won’t go easy on you,” He purred and began to nuzzle and nip at the pink-tinged ears of his lover.

“Who says I want you to go easy on me?” That devilish smirk grew as he spread his legs wide and flipped their positions, so he is now straddling his alpha. “Won’t you let me take charge now, General, sir~” His breath tickled Iwaizumi’s ear as his whole body shuddered.

Taking that as a yes, Tooru pulled on Hajime’s zipper of his combat pant, now beginning to be stained by Tooru’s slick, and reached inside to grasp the wide girth of the alpha’s cock. The warmth and weight of the cock felt perfect in Oikawa’s hand as he tested it with one stroke before bringing it to position at his entrance.

Iwaizumi brought his hands to Oikawa’s hips to steady him as he began to sink down slowly.

“Iwa-chan~” Oikawa panted out quick puffs on Iwaizumi’s face. He was losing himself in the stretch and feel of the wide girth of his lover’s cock inside of him. Though Hajime has been inside Oikawa many, many times, something about this switched position made the feeling of his alpha all the more new and exciting.

As they began to move to find their releases, Oikawa totally forgot about the humid heat while his heart swelled with adoration and love.

---

Oikawa’s eyes fluttered open. He must have dozed off after their little activity.

His nose picked up on a smell. It was a sweet smell. Oikawa knew of this scent very well. He knew it because it was always a smell around the house. Images of Oikawa’s father filling up his pipe and lighting a match to then take a few puffs. Tobacco.

Groaning as he stretched himself out, he realizes that he was using Iwaizumi’s hip as a pillow while he slept. Sitting up, he let his head lift to find a cigarette was between Iwaizumi’s lips while the other end glowed and then he released the smoke from the side of his lips, away from Oikawa.   

His gaze found Oikawa’s and his expression froze in panic. “Sorry, I’ll put it out,” Iwaizumi placed the bud between his pointer and middle and moved to place it toward the grass.

Before he had a chance to put the bud out, Oikawa grabbed it and brought it to his lips and took a small drag before the flood of smoke burned its way through his throat and he began to cough. “Hey,” the alpha panicked and grabbed his canteen of water to hand it toward the queen. But Oikawa shooed it away, bring the bud back to his lips and taking another drag, this time it didn’t burn as badly.

Iwaizumi was at a loss for words, his eyes just grew wide as he watched this beautiful creature in front of him do something that was seen as common and lower class, turn into something completely sinful.

Oikawa was taking another drag when he opened his eyes to look at his lover, “What? Am I doing it wrong or something?”

Iwaizumi shook his head and curled his finger in a come here motion. Oikawa took another drag and blew it out before coming closer. Closer. Closer. Until his nose was touching the alphas. Oikawa leaned in and kissed Iwaizumi’s top lip, sucking it into his mouth to then release it. Oikawa continued his ministrations of Iwaizumi’s lips, cheeks, jaw, and neck. The alpha hummed in joy as his fingers made their way to what was left of the cigarette and plucked it out of the omega’s fingers.

He brought the tiny bud to his mouth and mouth and took one last puff and then rubbing the cigarette in the earth. He then leans in and kissed the queens lips, forcing his tongue to open his mouth to him. The taste of tobacco was shared amongst their tongues but they didn’t care as the alpha rolled his omega under him and deepened the kiss.

When the burning for air was apparent in their noses and throats they parted, panting and drooling.

“I don’t want to go back,” Oikawa panted against Iwaizumi’s neck and nuzzled against it. “He could never make me feel like you do. Not in a million years.”

Hajime brought his hands to the silky chocolate hair and began to pet his lover. He knew all too well how Oikawa felt in that house. He knew it to be a prison, and he had to treasure these moments that they had together. He looked straight into the omega’s eyes and placed a chaste kiss to his lips and pulled away.

A lustful haze filled those chocolate eyes, Tooru found his alpha’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “Do you love me?” It was a whisper of a question.

“Yes,” Hajime answered instantly.

“How much,” a smile played on those pink lips.

There was a beat of silence between the two of them, Hajime was weighing the words and trying his best to come up with an answer. Tooru’s heart was beating rapidly. Did he say the wrong thing? Of course, he did. What alpha could ever love a marked, taken omega like him.

Hajime leaned forward and placed his lips to the omega’s ear, “There is not an answer I can give you that can express the way I love you. It is more than words and almost impossible to show with actions. The way I feel feels as if it is apart of my very soul and being. All I know is that I love you, and I don’t see myself from ever stopping your highness.”

A new wave of slick pours out of Tooru and he wants to curl his face and hide it away because there is no way he is not red. Who on earth says things like that and means in fully?

‘You know exactly who’. His conscience tells him. ‘Take what is yours. Keep him. Feel him. Love him.’

“Show me then,” It was barely above a whisper but Hajime heard the words as if they were aloud as cannon fire. “Show me what your love is like. I want to know what love is, alpha.”

When Hajime showed Tooru what his love felt for him, it was as if the world began anew. Before there lovemaking was fast and desperate and rebellious. But this time, it was slow and patient. Both knowing what made the other needed to go over the edge but ignored it to just enjoy the feel of one another. Oikawa truly knew that this must be what love was like, being slowly pushed to the edge but not being afraid and instead of having undoubtedly trust and ready to take the plunge or to soar so high that he would never want to come down.

---

“What if we run away?” Iwaizumi was lazily running his hands through the chocolate strands at the nape of his lover’s neck. He thought about the idea of them running away from the very moment he laid eyes of Oikawa, but he never voiced it before. Well, until now.

Oikawa sat up, leaning over his alpha while his hand still laid on the broad chest. “What? Leave with you and become your mistress?”

The hand at the omega’s hair stilled as he pulled them away from the hair and instead found rest at the still pink cheeks above him, “Never a mistress. I would treat you as my equal and as my one and only. I’d never want you to be something I hide away in shame or to show you off as my prize.”

Oikawa could cry at those words. He always did feel like a prize or an object, given to who his parents seemed fit or who had to most money that they could pocket for him. Feeling like a person, Oikawa never truly felt that way until this perfect man crashed into his life.”

But the fantasy of actually running away with his lover came to an end when he felt the weight of the locket on his breast. The locket with the picture of his other true love, Taro.

“But what about my son?”

Neither of them spoke and Oikawa wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the thoughts that Iwaizumi was thinking. With nothing spoken, Oikawa laid his head down on the chest where his hand was and just listened to the thump of the heart that he wished would never stop beating.

[the-headbop-wraith]

X

2_32 Lake Shadows

Warm summer light skittered across the surface of the gray waters, a soft breeze rustled through the green leaves of tall trees.  The water glittered like diamonds, dozens, hundreds of diamonds shimmering beneath an orange sun.

He took a deep breath and smelled the vanishing rains of the prior day.  The sky above hid evidence of the merciless downpour and only coyly revealed bright blue skies, a vibrant contrast to the surrounding woods.  The trees fluffed their canopies and leaves absorbed the last warmth of a fading sun.  He hoped it would be a warm night, just so they could enjoy the rising stars hours following the suns departure.  He found lately he enjoyed star gazing with Vivi, she was full of mysticism and wonder, and endless curiosity.

Barks.  He knew those barks, and it only occurred to Lewis that he was standing at the very edge of a rickety old pier, with no intention of diving in just yet.

He spun aside, and one dog minus glasses zoomed by and lunged out over the gray waters.

Lewis finished his twirl, and stood facing the water as the droplets dazzled the surface.  “Nice try, Mystery.”  He waggled a finger towards the hound when Mystery popped his water logged head above the surface.  Was that dog grinning?

“CANNON BALL!”  

Lewis grimaced.  He wrenched around and put his arms up.  “NO! Don’t!  NOT YE—” But Vivi had already looped an arm around his midsection and lunged off the pier.  Lewis lost his balance and went down backwards, his screams cut off.  Gurgles and water floundering followed.

Gradual and unhurried rocked up to the end of the pier and Arthur stood, a few feet back from the broken edge, as water sprayed and voices giggled. Lewis was complaining about getting used to the water, and Vivi went on about how diving in and getting it over with was always best.  Arthur gripped the insides of his pockets with his fists and raised his shoulders.

“So, should I start unloading?  S’gonna be night soon,” muttered Arthur.  He lowered himself down to sit on the edge, his shoe soles dangled near the water’s surface.

Vivi kicked away from the pier on her back.  “Aw, why don’t you come in for a quick dip?”  Mystery begins a slow dog paddle around Vivi, as she drifts. “There’ll be plenty of time later for that.”

It was a very warm, humid day, and the breeze slipping of the lake made the water more appealing.  Arthur took out a bundle of sage he’d been carrying in his pocket and fiddled with it between his fingers, turning it over and feeling the soft velvety texture of the leaves.  “I wanna try and save the batteries till or next pay,” he says.  And then cringes down as he turns his eyes back, towards the large looming home perched beyond the grassy shore.  “Plus… that place will be more hospitable in the daylight.  You know, it is super creepy.”  Arthur gave a shriek and somersaulted backwards, when a shape burst from the water right under his shoes.

Lewis took a breath and smoothed his hair back.  “Ooh.  Sorry Artie. You still breathing?”

“Do you do that on purpose?” Arthur shrieks as he climbed forward on the pier.

Lewis smirked and crossed his arms, his stylish pompadour was already drying in the sun.  “No?”  Then, nods his head towards the lakeside home. “So far it’s just a house.  Why don’t you relax for a bit, and later will go over the layout together?  Less spooky. Safety in numbers?”

“I just want to get it over and done with now,” Arthur mumbled. Vivi was giggling, trying to stand up in the water and cradle Mystery in her arms.  The hound did not approve and kept wriggling his soggy body until she released him, with a splash, into the water.  “I’ll feel more accomplished.  I detest these long endless hours on the road.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Lewis chuckled.

Vivi came splashing up, and Arthur raised a hand to keep the cool mist off his face.  “If that’s what you wanna do, Art.  Go for it,” she said.  “You’re good with the equipment.  But… maybe leave a comm. on the pier here, so if you get into trouble or something you can call us.”  She reached up and patted the space of the warped wood beside where Arthur sat.

“Sounds like a plan,” Arthur mumbled.  He raised himself up by his arms and slipped his feet under him. “Catch you aquanauts later.”  He waved a hand back over his shoulder as he jogged off.

“Think he’ll be okay?” Lewis dwelled.  Mystery paddled by and raised his nose towards the pier, and raised a paw to scratch at the dangling board.  Lewis gripped the soggy mess of fur and placed him onto the piers top, only to step back and shield himself when Mystery charged off and dove into the water.

Vivi giggled and wiped some of the water from her bangs. “Yeah.  Reports on this place are below substandard,” she assured.  “Creepy shadows, vertigo.  No historical files that label any sort of tragedy since the homes construction.”  She looked back to the tall mansion, hidden by the over growth of old trees, the extending roof over the back porch had caved inward.  “Of course, that doesn’t mean a… thing!”  While Lewis was distracted with the house, Vivi had slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms about his waist.  Lewis gave a half cry as she jerked him backwards, into the water.

Mystery ceased his diving and stared at the water’s surface as it began to calm.  A few bubbles escaped the dark depths and popped, comically.  He gave his head a shake, removing most the water from his mane, and raised his ears forward intently.  He jerked his snout around, but there was no indication of the two.  Were they playing or had someone hurt them self?  He was about to bark for Arthur, when Lewis broke free of the water.  Vivi tried to stand beside him, but her feet slipped and she plopped back into the water choking and laughing.

“That was a terrible idea,” Vivi managed, coughing.  Lewis found the lake bottom under him and stood, then pulled Vivi upright and patted her on the back.

“Well, now you’re more the wiser.”  A sly smirk stretched over his face.  “But given your nature, I doubt it.”  He put his arms up when Vivi gave a shrill cry and leapt at him, Lewis crashed backwards into the water with Vivi on top of him this time.

And they were splashing now.  Mystery snorted and began paddling to the shore.  He gave his fur a fierce shake and crossed to a grassy knoll a few feet from the sandy shore, there he stretched out on a carpet of grass in the sunlight and watched the lake.

The trees surrounding the home grew together in tight, interlocking limbs that rubbed at the frailest gust which generated ominous creaks and moans. Wild shrubs grew in erratic clusters across the untamed lawn, their bare spindly timber thrusts out from the leaf choked leaves of the neglected plants.  A cracked stone path led from the back porch of the home to the edge of the lakes shore, there the wood steps had rotted and sank into the rick soil of the beach leaving only chunks of stones to indicate the former path.  Shadows cast by the thick canopy twitch and quiver over the broken path where the copses ended.

Mystery edged one eye open as the sounds in the lake calmed for a bit.  His companions looked safe and unharmed, he could rest a bit longer.  He rolled over onto his back and turned his head aside, out of the light.

Blue spun endlessly above them, like a deep cyan wave rolling and crashing at the edges of the trees.  It felt so far away, and yet it wasn’t, somehow.  Vivi couldn’t find words to describe it.  Her arms rest above her head, tangled with Lewis’ arms, to keep them from floating away from the other.  Water lapped lazily at her ears, and she could hear echoes across the lawn as Arthur unloaded the van of their collective supplies.  Why did he want to work so hard?

Though, she shouldn’t be one to talk.

“Just think Lew,” Vivi began.  The lake was deep, thirty feet at least, maybe more in some areas.  “There could be dead bodies at the bottom, and no one would ever know.”

Lewis snorted at the water and tilts his head back.  “Vi?  Here, of all places?

“It could be true,” she defends.  “Don’t deny it.  And people go swimming, and they’d never know.  Wouldn’t care, probably.”  She unlocked one arm from Lewis and pulled at her swimsuit strap.  “It could be like… from a hundred years ago.  Whoever they are, resting all this time at the bottom of a lake.”

“I try not to think about stuff like that, particularly when I’m swimming in the subject.”  Lewis wrapped his arm around Vivi’s, and they were back to staring at the sky.  Did it go on forever?  Books insisted it did, astronomers believed so.  During the day it was hard to imagine the infinite possibilities of the sky.  “Maybe some colonial settlers?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Nothing but bones,” Lewis went on.  And he shuddered from the timid rush of air touching the lakes surface. “Gotta suck, to be forgotten like that.”

“Yeah.”  Vivi nodded, hair spiraling around her head in a celestial body of blues.  “Wish we’d bought some goggles.”

“And water proof flashlights.”

That was the last of the important gear.  They traveled light, anything else they might need wouldn’t be too much trouble to get.  Arthur slung his own personal bag over his shoulder and shoved the door of the van shut. The shadows were much cooler now as the evening evaporated, and the sun sank further into the tree lining.  He looked out at the lake, where Vivi and Lewis floated idly.  Looked like the swimming bit lost its appeal, for now.

A bird, it sounded like a woodpecker, rapped against a tree somewhere in the canopy.  Arthur raised his brows as he looked up, he hadn’t expected the sound.  It was strange, out of place somehow, which really didn’t make since.  A crow cackled, harping on the moist air as a gale blew through scattering leaves around the weed infested path, a torrent of leaves crashed through the open front doors he’d left wide open.

“Shit.”  Arthur hurried away to shut the doors before more leaves raced in.  As hurried to the front steps, his shadow remained imprinted to the back doors of the van.  It stood there, one dark limb raised to where Arthur’s hand had rested on the metal hull.

The corroded hinges of the door protested rough treatment, and Arthur had to shove his body against the backside of the cracked wood to force one door shut.  To convince the other door to budge Arthur gripped the handle and braced his shoe soles to the porch boards, he tilt back on his heels and PULLED, until the latch clicked in the door.  Momentarily he was held up only by his hands wrapped about the handle, and he dithers from hauling himself upright onto the flats of his feet.  Arthur’s eyes snap open and he turns his head checking across the front wall of the porch, searching the cracked and broken windows. He saw nothing, but he felt the distinct sensation that… he was not alone.

Arthur released the door and whipped about.  He stared at the van down on the gravel path.  It sat there innocently, but fastened to the bright exterior of the colorful metal was a shape.  A familiar, eerie, black shape.  Where the… the eyes, they glittered like stars.

Arthur gulped, he teetered backwards and hit the door.  The instant he blinked it was gone.  Completely, as if it were never there.  He watched and waited, perplexed.  Had… had he imagined it?  He rubbed his eyelids and looked back up.  Shades worked across the upper edge of the vans roof, the limbs of the shrouded canopy creak and a raven gives a woeful call.  The sounds twist into something else, a kind of rasping that is unnerving.  It’s the sound of creeping, of humming wind churning through grass blades, stalking. Of a thing that didn’t want to be seen, but what it desired didn’t matter since it was not truly there. A harsh gale whipped through the trees, and Arthur bolts.

The branches seem to rattle their gnarled limbs and cackle as he tears away.  He lunges over the rail on the porches side and races for the lake, feet pumping and heart racing.  Leaves scuttle through the large bundles of brush, while the wind rips through the shadows. Arthur doesn’t look, he keeps running. Arms stretch from the gloom about him, emaciated black hands snatching at his shoulders and scalp, white knuckles glint in brief patches of sunlight.  They catch at his vest as it flares out around him in his mad race, hunched forward, his own hands curled above his head to fend off the clawing assault. He hears moaning, death throes of lost souls.  Never does he see a face attached to the bodies, just endless arms grabbing.  

Arthur breaks free of the yard and stumbles out away, into open air, sunlight, and warmth.  He pivots and stumbles backwards, eyes searching the innocent blue drapes between him and the mansion, seeking his form, his impression betraying him.  Once he feels certain he’s safe from the groves the reach, he turns and checks his feet.  There lay his scrawny dark shape on the ground, where it is supposed to be.

Arthur raises a hand and knots a fist into the front of his shirt, and lets out a strained breath.  Behind him, the water churns apart in a calamity of splashing from where the others race out of the shallows.

“You okay?” Lewis barks out first.

“Yeah,” Arthur lies.  He can’t look away yet.  He touches his shoulders and his head, no scratches, nothing.  His clothing is in one piece, like last he checked.  His hands tremble, and he hurriedly works to wipe off his face and clothing of the scrabbling sensation.  “I thought something was chasing me….”  His words fade and he pivots to face the others crossing the sandy shore, his hands still tugging his vest and shirt out from his skin.

Vivi slung the excess water off her hands as she marched up to Arthur and took his shoulders.  “You sure? You looked hella scared.”  She glanced Lewis’ way as he raised a hand to fix up his hair.  “I told you, you could have waited for us.”

Arthur leaned back from Vivi and shook his head.  “I swear, I’m good.  Got all the stuff inside.  Didn’t see anything.”  He clenched his teeth.  That was a lie, but he didn’t mean to dismiss what he had seen.  Theoretically, it could have been his imagination.  His mind just sort of made up elaborate scenes, sometimes superimposed shapes that could never be.  Maybe it was some light from inside the mansion and it cast his shadow onto the vans back door.  Yeah. That sounded lame.

The occurrence was soon forgotten by the team.  Once Lewis and Vivi retired from the swimming and put on some clothing, the evening investigation could be strategized. However, an army marches on its stomach, and while Vivi scoped out the mansion interior with Arthur and Mystery, Lewis was entrusted with dinner’s safe preparation.

The portable cooker was the one thing Lewis made sure to pack whenever his group ventured out, mystery solving on the far out and distant case. He set up shop on the front porch, one of Vivi’s camping lanterns rigged to the underside of the cracked timber of the roof eave.  There was still summer light to see by under the trees, soft tones of blues steadily becoming richer and darker as the moon found its way into the sky.  Little insects puttered around the light, most deterred by the white smoke of cooking foods.

Lewis’ company for the time was Mystery.  The dog lay beside the weathered wood railing of the porch facing Lewis, eye brows raised pleadingly.

“Wanna sample?” Lewis chirped.  Mystery raised his head and watched intently, glasses flashing as Lewis took his cooking fork and pierced one of the marinated chicken cuts among the veggies.  “Hang on.” He blew on the procured bite a few times, until the steam subsided, then handed it to the dog.  “How’s that?”

Mystery licked his lips and looked aside, ears bent back.  He tapped his claws on the porch, before he turned back to Lewis and gave a firm bark.

“A little more spice?”  Spices were arranged along the railing, all with custom labels.  His family made all of them.  “I can’t add too much.  It’ll be too strong for Arthur.”

The spice should complement the texture of the food.  Mystery raised his back end and stretched.  As he was spinning around to lie down again, a ruckus came from the front door.  Shouting, pounding steps, and suddenly Arthur being chased by Vivi.  What now?

“Guys!  Guys! Cool it!” Lewis snarled.  “I’m workin’ here!”  He stabbed the fork into the center of the cooking basin as Arthur and Vivi sprint in his direction, but diverted off over the railing of the porch at the last minute.  Mystery raised one paw to catch a vial of spice before it could fall off the rail.

“If you did anything weird to my EVP reader!” Vivi was screaming. The beam of the torch she carried darted across the gravel, hunting for Arthur though he too carried a pale gleaming light.

Arthur was between stutters and giggles.  “I fixed it!  I improved it!  You’ll get cleaner voice readings!  What do you want me to say!”

“Certify me it won’t EXPLODE!”  The shouts and lights darted out of sight, and Lewis gave a small sigh of relief.  Mystery arfed.

Lewis glanced at the cooking basin he was utilizing, and cocked his brow at it.  It was fantastic, worked exceptionally come rain or fog, it was custom built by Arthur for him, and had never exploded…. Yet.  Mystery followed his gaze and took a step back.

A short while later Arthur came racing back.  He ducked between a broken space in the railing and was out of sight.  “Pack a plate to go, Lew?” he snapped, voice fading through the front door.

“Sure!” Lewis called back.  “What’re you up to now?”  He didn’t get an answer, not a direct one.  He turned his attention up to the van and saw Vivi, her dark silhouette posed atop the vans roof, torch at her feet.  A flash went off, and another.  She took up the torch and climbed down the vans side.

“Smells mouthwatering,” Vivi said, when she had crossed the yard. She turned off the flashlight and slipped it through the railing beside Mystery.  The porch was elevated a few feet above the ground, and Vivi stood there as she raised up the camera.  “Is that a Sautee?”

“A fast recipe,” Lewis explained.  “But very good.”  He wiped his hands on the towel hanging from his pocket, and took the camera.  “Looks nondescript.  But it’s really dark.”  He stirred the vegetables a bit, then clicked through more of the pictures.  “Is it just me, or does the interior seem super dark?”

“Arthur thought that too,” Vivi says.  She climbs up onto the rail from the front side, Lewis catches containers of spice and moves them over to the windowsill to his left.  “It gets creepy, and cold, unnaturally so.  I think there is a spirit here.”

“There could be a basement somewhere in there?  Did you find a basement?”  Vivi shakes her head.  “The whole house has a hollow foundation.”

“We’ll take temperature readings first thing.  I’ll get the plates.”  Vivi took the camera when Lewis handed it over, and she rushed across the yard back to the van.

“And bring some bread and cheese!”  Lewis noted Mystery had raised himself on his haunches, and was pawing at the boards.  The dog would aim his ears forward then draw them back, and scratch.  “You think you smell something?”

Mystery raised his head, and looked towards the open front door. His hair bristled and he took a step back, as Arthur went barreling out and down the porch steps.  He nearly toppled onto the gravel path but stopped and swung back, arms outstretched at his sides as if preparing for some sort of attack but unsure how to meet it.  From where Lewis stood, he could hear the strained pants of the other.

“Art!  What happened?” Lewis called.  He left the fork on the cooking pit and began forward.  Mystery spun around and darted ahead to the steps, but stopped when Arthur raised a hand.  Lewis stood behind the dog and waited.

“It’s… everything’s okay,” Arthur spoke, voice quivering. “It’s, uh….” He began pulling at his cloths, checking up his bare arms and neck, then looked at Lewis.  His torch was gone.  “Nothing.  I got startled… damn spiders.”

Lewis leaned on the railing and gripped the worn wood in his hands. “Art.  Don’t lie,” he growled.  “If something is going on… what happened?”  He didn’t drop his gaze from Arthur, even when Vivi hurried up to him, plates carried under one arm.  She handed Arthur her light.

“Did you see something in there?” Vivi dug.  Arthur stares at the light hitting the overgrown gravel path, and shook his head.  “Be honest Art.  We can leave at any time— ”

“No!  I was startled, that’s it!”  Arthur turned his face to Vivi’s and stares over her into her eyes.  “Nothing.  Happened.”

“You seem really….” Vivi trails off when Arthur set a hand on her shoulder, and patted her.  He walked by, back up the steps to the front door and peered into the dark gloom of the interior.

“It’s fine, see?”  Arthur edged inside, one foot outstretched then the rest of him sliding in, out of sight. He poked his head out and looked to Lewis.  “Is something burning?”

“Mierda!  Maldita Sea! Te juro que si esta comida es quemada, a cocinar un estúpido fantasma!”  Lewis darts back to the cooker.  Mystery follows yapping.  “Plates, Vi! Plates!  We must save it!”

Arthur drew the corner of his mouth back in a sly grin.  Beyond the entry of the door his smile faded, slowly. The wind caressed the edges of the home, crept through the windows, and the walls called like the somber harp of a raven.  Hollow, cold, and they were spending the night here.

Over dinner Vivi plotted, as she usually did.  She ate quickly, too excited to sit still, the food too good to set down.  She paced about the large entrance room swinging her fork around in the dull glow of the candles that were set around the remaining furniture.

“We’ll scour every inch of this house.  No corner left unchecked.  Arthur, you check the top floors!” she directed, while stabbing another bite of food.  More like mouthful.

Lewis was grinning.  He couldn’t help it, he loved it when Vivi got to this point.  “Calm down,” he hummed.  “It’d be bad if you choked.”  He gave an exasperated sigh when Vivi turned on him.

“You and Mystery get temperature readings from under the floor.” Vivi stabbed a piece of food and chewed on it.  Then, directed the end of the fork towards Lewis.  “There has to be a cellar, or maybe even a break in the floor. Something we missed, that could deliver the cold drafts around the home.”

Arthur was finishing off the last of his meal, a grilled cheese sandwich, and left half the sandwich on his plastic plate.  “Say,” he began, as he strolled away from the cracked window beside the front door.  “Why do I have to check out the upper floors?”

“You won’t be alone,” Vivi chirped.  “I’ll be up there too, checking around.”  She resumed eating with frenzy.

Lewis sat on a discarded shipping crate, placed at an old desk left in the rooms center and the candles standing above it flickering under Arthur’s approach.  Lewis took Arthur’s plate and glanced at the neglected sandwich remains, and gave Arthur a brief look.  Arthur turned away and headed for their supply bags.

“Wasn’t that hungry,” Arthur muttered.  He kept his back to Lewis as he dug through his provision bag.

Mystery placed his paws upon the edge of the desk and hoisted himself upright.  He sniffed at the plate with the leftovers and glanced over it, to Lewis.  Lewis shrugged; at least Arthur had eaten today.

Despite the humidity of the nearby lake and the recent showers that drenched the land, the interior of the old lakeside home was bone dry. Leaving the front door open throughout disembark helped in no physical way, it only moved off some of the finer dust on the lower floor where the group would bed down once investigations were concluded for that evening.  The old lakeside was a treat, rundown and inhospitable but it was still standing in the long decades that had passed it by, surviving storms and was relatively untouched by vandals.  Vivi had talked the others into packing enough supplies for a few days, and they could enjoy a small mini vacation before they resumed their commission list.

The radio Lewis carried crackled with sound then sputtered out. He forced a door open and held it for Mystery to pad on through.  Lewis followed close behind and raised his flashlight to the walls of the large room.

“Was someone trying to get through?  Over,” he spoke.  There was only a tub made of some metal, the bottom of it rotted out and a large crack visible in the boards beneath.  Mystery sneezed as he tracked around the room.

A soft voice came through first.  “Nope.”  Arthur. Then Vivi’s chipper, “Nada.  Are you checking the EKG reader?”

“Arthur has it,” Lewis replies.  “I’ll keep you posted.  Shouldn’t be signals this far out, eh?”  He leaned towards the large bath basin and held his hand over the hole.

“Might be solar spots,” Vivi’s voice crackled with interference. “Art?”

“Solar spots,” Arthur’s voice echoed.  “Sort of electrical pulse.  Or just a wayward signal from a satellite.”

Lewis took the round dial of a thermometer from his pocket and set it just inside the hollow opening of the floor.  “I got something, about those drafts we’ve been feeling.  There’s been a lot of rain in the past few days, and if it’s able to collect under the house then it creates a kind of… refrigeration. It might be able to get up through the walls of the home.  Over.”

Arthur’s voice sputtered through the walkie-talkie. “Ooh, yeah.  They used it in old homes,” he said, life returning to his voice. “It was a revolutionary at the time. I think some homes could even collect rainwater for utilities.  Did you find the basement?  Over.”

“No,” Lewis says.  He turns the light to Mystery as the dog brushed past his pant legs, and climbed up onto the flat surface of the tubs backside.  “I’m looking at the foundation through a break in the floor.”  He grunted at the foul smell of mildew and sitting water.

“Can I get a subscription to ‘Old House’ weekly?” Vivi broke in.  “I’m startin’ to feel left out.”

Lewis chuckled.  “Well, read more museum— ”  He winced when Mystery began growling.  He moved the fuchsia beam of his torch along the dogs shoulder.  Mystery’s eyes glistened red under the illumination and his snout was directed, teeth bared, past Lewis’ shoulder.  Lewis whipped about and raised his light.  He caught something bright flash, a yellow glint, before the door to the bathroom Whammed shut.  

“HOLY!” Lewis staggered backwards, the nook of his knees hit the crusty edge of the tub and he nearly suffered a nasty tumble back into the hole.  On reflex he dropped his flashlight and caught his balance by snagging out for the wall to his side, his hand latched onto the ornate iron bar mounted there.  “Whoa!” Mystery barked at the shut door but had not moved from his spot.  “Guys! Guys!”  Lewis harped into the transmitter, thrust at his face.  “I think I saw it!  I’m not sure what… didn’t get a good look!”

Vivi’s voice sprang through, half cut off before Lewis released the toggle of the walkie-talkie.  “—LY!  OhMiGod! What’d it look like?”

It took Lewis a moment to register the question.  He laughed, somewhat shaken, and raised his free hand to the bridge of his nose.  “Vi. Didn’t I just say, I didn’t get a look?”  He snapped his thumb off the speak button, and picked up the low groan of Vivi.  “S’okay. We know something’s here now, probably.” As he said this, he reached over to Mystery still poised on the shelf behind the bathtub and pat the hounds shoulder.

The bright yellow light crept inch by inch along the rotten carpet of the halls floor. Creaks and tired groans rebounded through the walls, and every few feet the light had to give pause and let the sounds fade. They never diminished did completely, but would subside to less threatening levels. The floor seemed sturdy enough, the homes interior was left mostly intact, though worn and withered like a parched mausoleum.

Arthur froze when a cloud materialized beside his face, but after a constrained cough he let out a breath and relaxed. He was smoking, what he saw was the result of ashy vapors. With a pout he pinned the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb and took a short huff. The day had been mildly humid, balmy and with the full display of midsummer; now though, the interior of the home had become unbearably frigid. He worried that once Lewis and Vivi decided to call the evening a close, he wouldn’t be able to stay warm enough. He could sleep in the van, he felt safer outside these walls but the loneliness would be a formidable deterrent.

Briefly he reviewed what he and Lewis had discussed about the homes makeshift refrigeration. It could be possible the mechanics were broken, or like Lewis had said there was water chilling beneath the foundation. That had to be the cause.

He held the white stick trapped with his walkie-talkie hand, and took another long draw on the cigarette. “Vi,” he called. “Where you now? I think I’m done exploring this side of the house. Over.” He pulled the cigarette container from his pocket and made sure to double check that the flame on the cigarette butt was completely out, before he stuffed the used filter into the box. Like hell he’d risk pissing off some demon. “Vi? Lewis? Come in. Over.”

A door on his left was open ajar. Frowning, Arthur flashed his light along the walls of the long hall before him, confirming the status of two rooms left open upon his exploration. He was sure this door had been locked last time he came by. He stuffed the communicator into his back pocket and gripped the handle of the torch firmly in his fist. If the others called, he would hear.

Slowly, Arthur edged through the doorframe, he let the light totter along the floor, its comforting beam ambled its way over dusty furniture, book shelves or a desk, the dismantled remains of a bed. One wall held captive a window, though the tree branches outside the glass were woven together, refusing any moonlight from entering the room. The carpet, at one time vibrant and colorful with elegant designs, resembled something akin to tanned skinned stretched over gray plywood. Arthur coughed at freshly disturbed dust as he moved into the room, the floorboards rang with the announcement of his entrance for all the wicked in the world to heed. He grimaced at the audible sound.

Arthur jumped when the communicator barked to life, and died out.  “Damn! Viv?”  Arthur spun around twice as he fought to reach his back pocket in a hurry.   He snatched up the device from his pocket and brought it to his lips.  “Was that you?”

“Sorry,” her voice puttered out.  The signals jabber and snaps barely sound like Vivi.  A string of static washed through, and Arthur hugged the receiver to his chest in an effort to drown out the backlash.  In a few spurts the clear ring of Vivi’s voice came through.  Sort of.  “Ar—ur.  –Mee— ”

“Hold on, I’m not reading you.”  The air of the room was filled with a musty, acrid scent, like a museum full of old leather that had gone bed.  Arthur pressed his nose into his sleeve as he entered further, his light flashing over dust spores and a ruined heap of ruble from the ceiling. “Can you repeat?”  He frowned.  Vivi’s voice was still garbled, the distortion becoming worse.  He could hear Lewis’ voice in there too, saying something or asking, Arthur couldn’t tell; maybe they were talking to each other. He wasn’t listening to the radio at this point, he could only press it into the puffy material of his vest and wait until the frequency cleared.  He shivered audibly, and hoped the others didn’t hear that somehow.  A frail breeze had captivated the tree limbs outside the window, causing a somber tapping and scratching over the thin window pane.  

The eerie sounds were accompanied by snippets of silver light wavering over the ancient carpet.  When the light calmed, the noises didn’t fade completely.  Arthur stopped where he was, communicator buried in his vest as he focused his senses outward.  He saw nothing, but he could hear it.  Movement. No, steps.  Slow, rocking steps.  The floorboards creaking, faintly, but the sound was no doubt there.  Arthur pressed his thumb onto the power button and cut off the haze completely.  

“Vi?”  he called, voice hitting an octave higher.  “That you?” No response.  The steps did cease though.  “H-hello?”

A terrible thought came to his mind.  What if… what if the lakeside home was not as abandoned as they had previously believed?  Sure, he and Vivi had combed the rooms early in the day – it was part of safety protocol – if there had been a squatter they would have found him, Mystery would have picked up something.

The timid whimper of wood brought Arthur out of his stupor. It was low, almost nonexistent, and it was just beyond the next doorway.

Arthur moved as silently as he could toward the heap of ruble near the corner and huddled down.  Once settled he clicked off his light and stared towards the direction, where he presumed the doorway to be.  It was difficult to judge in the dark, one lost their sense of direction.  After some time the room began to come into focus, or so it seemed.  The sounds became inaudible as before, possibly gone for good.  From the hole above raised a low whistling, most likely somewhere in the attic from broken eaves in the roof.  The twitter became deeper, the hole in the ceiling hummed. Arthur peered between pieces of cracked timber, towards the open door of the adjacent hall.  He could see the calm moonlight stationary on the floor—

The steps began again.  Slow, uneven, Sometimes pausing then moving on.  Arthur couldn’t identify if they were in the room, or elsewhere. Was the door across from him into a closet, or a connecting room?  He swore, he and Vivi never came through this room, it wasn’t here before.  He tried to stifle his breathing, as the creaking boards came closer, echoing off the walls within the room he hid in.  

There was nothing there, nothing visible to his eyes.  It was hopeless for Arthur, he couldn’t break his eyes off when the glimmer of light from the windows flashed out.  It was there, he couldn’t find it but no doubt it was there.  Whatever it was, it would hear him if he blinked; could smell his fear.  He tensed his hands around the walkie-talkie and flashlight in his hands.  If he had to run… oh god, the moment he gasped, it would find him.

“Oh no. No-no-no.”  Arthur winced when the communicator he was gripping creaked.  The shape breaking through the moonlight paused, and seemed to rear up. “What?  What IS that?  He wanted to call out.  It was tall, maybe the same size as Lewis, but Arthur knew that is wasn’t Lewis. Lewis would give a warning first that he was there.  This thing was hunting.

A strip of light lashed across the form as it stepped across the carpet.  Arthur caught something white, glittering lights like jewels, a sharp shoulder, but nothing much else.  He shut his eyes and buried his face into the side of his shoulder and bit into his vest sleeve; he curled down more while pressing himself into the edge of the wall and the ruble.  When the gale in the attic began to die down, Arthur began to concentrate on the low pulse of his throbbing heart.  .

“Won’t find me!  Can’t see me. Eyes closed, can’t see me if I don’t see it.”  Arthur could hear his trembling breath, and he fought not to let out the slightest gasp. “Go away.  Go away. No one’s here.  No one!”  He choked a bit when the steps began, this time very  near him.  “It won’t find mind.  It don’t know where.  Can’t see.  It CAN’T see.”  Arthur tightened his eyes shut and waited.  Waited for years as the noise got very close, the steady vibrations of movement directly beside him.  It was looking at him, wasn’t it?  It found him and now it was waiting for him to open his eyes and see it.  “No.”  There was no point in hiding his strangled breathing.  He brought his arms up over his head and covered his face with the crook of his elbow.  “No!  You can’t make me!  Never!”  He felt an icy draft on his arm, like a breath.

“NO!” Arthur shrieked.  “Go ‘way!  GO!—”

“Artie!”  The voice made him wince.  And all at once the oppressive cold and stale air were gone.  Evaporated completely, the air was warmed and breathable, almost tolerable even for him.  Arthur ripped his head out of his arms.  He wasn’t aware he had been crying.  A bright fuchsia light was on him, and a shape behind it.  “Are you hurt?”

Arthur blinked.  “Yes. I mean, No!”  He rubbed his hands up his sleeveless arms and shuddered.  It took a moment to get his bearings, and Lewis gave him that time.  “Did you… see anything?”  Arthur asked, as he raised his gaze above the ruble.

Lewis moved smoothly beside Arthur and knelt, his own flashlight aimed at the moth eaten carpet on the floor.  “No.  Nothing.” He glanced briefly the way Arthur was staring, but never diverted the light from his friend.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Arthur kept his gaze on the far side of the room, where the sounds had originated.  “I didn’t get a good look at it,” he murmured.

“But you’re certain it didn’t hurt you?” Lewis pressed.  Arthur paused, and shook his head.  “Why didn’t you put down a protective circle?”

“Panicked,” Arthur admits.  “I could hear it.  It was walking.  And… wait, where’s Mystery?”  Life returned to Arthur’s eyes, and he checked past Lewis’ knee.

Lewis perked, and turned his light around the room checking the floors and furniture, checking anywhere a white dog could hide himself. “Mystery?  Mystery?”  He whistled, but there was no sign of the dog.  No sound.  Only the wind twittering through the shattered gaps in the walls of the house around them.

The door refused to budge.  It hadn’t been this stubborn earlier, in the daylight, however Vivi could fix that.  She pressed her shoulder to the panel and pushed.  That didn’t work either, so she was forced to take a step back and charge at the door.  The door flew open right before she collided with the cracked wood and Vivi stumbled past the now frozen door, into the musty room.  She jerked her light across the floors and raised it to the walls, in her erratic steps she narrowly missed a cracked stool laid in her path.  Around her on the walls hung picture frames, but whatever was held within the frames years ago had rotted and drooped to the floor beneath.  The room was probably a gallery of sort at some point, long abandoned and forgotten. It seemed a shame.

“Art?” she called, following her light.  No answer.  She stepped carefully across the floor, always wary of the broken furniture or rotted planks beneath her feet.  Vivi tried again to call into her communicator, but she was met with only harsh scratching.  “Ugh. Very clever, whoever you are.” She revolved as she moved along the floor, her light flashing at the darkest edges of the room where subtle movement lurked.  As she moved, Vivi pulled her backpack around her side and stuffed the communicator within. If the others tried to get through she would hear it, but she needed the camera.

Vivi adjusted the settings of the device, then turned the lens in the direction her flashlight beam faced.  A picture, two.  She checked the images, glancing up occasionally to assure herself nothing was overlooked in the shadows.  In the dark everything had changed, or that was the impression she got.  She had numerous theories to explain this phenomenon but none ever panned out.  Oh well.

One of the images startled her.  Vivi caught her breath and studied the snapshot of the gleaming pair of eyes, the bright pale shape of a nose and…. Her expression dropped.  She raised her torch to the corner of the room, near a blotted window where a pale face stared back.  “Hoot hoot,” she called, to the owl that was perched within a broken space of the ceilings corner.  “You scared me!”

The owl did not appreciate the disturbance.  With a screech and a rustle of feathers, the avian spun around to dive back into the broken opening.  Further scratching and ‘chirps’ came from within, but her company departed for good.

Vivi let exhaled another tight breath.  “That really did startle me,” she said, and a little louder says, “Are you going to show yourself?  Or are you still bothering my friend?”  A clatter comes from the shadows at her back and she pivots, nearly tripping over the leg of a chair.  She aimed her light down, but caught the flash of something… odd.  

It wasn’t a chair, or the leg of some furniture.  Vivi had already scouted the floor carefully and was positive nothing underfoot would catch her off guard.  The room was practically empty, aside from the decayed portraits hung up on the walls.

Her blue light moved across a dusty moth eaten shred of cloth. The cloth was deflated and swathed over bleached bone and moss filled sleeves.  Vivi gasped when she brought the light up to the skull, eye sockets filled with fuzzy black algae, jaw snapped back in a jagged snarl.

“Cool!”  She stuffed her torch handle under one arm and raised the camera.  She managed one flash, when the floor… the corpse began to sink into the dark shade its clutter of remains cast under Vivi’s light.  She remained motionless, only watching as the dark mass slithered through the planks of wood that comprised the floor; a superimposed dark shade stained into the wood.  Its withering, animated edges seeped out and surrounded the edges of her lights bright halo, and pulsed towards the shadow that mashed behind Vivi.

“And… what are you doing now?”  She took a step back, as the corpse sank completely out of sight.  The moment the corpse was gone from sight, the mass of inky slithering shot out at her shadow and merged with it.  Vivi halted her retreat, her foot was caught on something. She took the flashlight and directed it down, but could see nothing physical holding her foot.  “Oh come on!”  She aimed the light aside, hearing the flutter of wings.  Was it the owl?  She saw nothing, save for the hostile mark spreading outward from her shadow, and across the floor.  The walls surrounding her were black, aimless absorbing black, which her light dove off for eternity.  “Okay. You’re unfriendly.  I got that.”  Her other foot was locked in place.  “Would an apology suffice?”

The floor disappeared.  It didn’t exactly disappear, Vivi was still standing somewhere but her feet began to sink into the blackness that coated the room; or it was rising up around her like a surge of foul water.  “Oh no you don’t!”  She swung her backpack off and dug around until she had located a container of salt. “Do ove sprave čistoću!” She shoved her flashlight into the backpack and hung it by one strap over her shoulder, half shut.  With the container of salt and no light, she moved by memory.  Vivi poured a palm full of salt into her hand and began marking a semi-circle around her position, the same action was also done with the salt container in her other hand. “Sam štitili od tebe!” Working in limited light and losing light was tricky, but she had done this so often it was in her muscle memory. She brought her hands to meet before her, and connected the two ends of the circle.

A harsh shriek wailed out, and the shadows rising around her legs recoiled like water on a scalding skillet.  With her legs now free Vivi fell to her knees, the bag lost its perch from her shoulder and dropped to the now bare wood floor.  Some provision and bottles tumbled out of the partially closed bag, along with the lit flashlight; the lights somber glow sprang through the heavy shrouds surrounding her as it rolled away.  For a short spell Vivi tracked the patches revealed while she recovered.  A short distance from where she crouched, something black on the floor glint, like obsidian.  

She didn’t get the chance to check clarify what was there, a feral snarl tore through the room and suddenly the entirety of the black void lifted and the room was again just a room.  Mystery charged past Vivi and lunged in the same direction the light faced. When Vivi looked up, she saw a pair of shimmering eyes fade into the ceiling.  Mystery persists with yips and huffs as he paced over the floor, his ears pulled back and his teeth bared; eventually though, his hostility began to wane.

Vivi pulled herself upright, she fixed her hair band and brushed some of the dust that clung to her skirt.  “That was close.” She reached around to pat at her shoes, and checked for any mars or scratches.  “These are brand new, y’know.  There better be no scuffs on them.”  She smiled when Mystery came back over to her, the retrieved torch carried in his mouth. “I’m glad you showed up.  Not that… I couldn’t take care of myself.” She took the offered light, and Mystery yapped.  The dog tiptoed closer to Vivi and lowered his head and bumped foreheads with her.

The two made haste to collect up the items that had fallen from Vivi’s bag.  Once finished Vivi pulled the backpacks straps over her shoulders and stood, her light sweeping across the room toward the way she came from.  “Is Lewis safe?” she asked.  “What about Arthur?”  Mystery whines and tilted his head.  “Can you find where you separated?”  Mystery barked, and turned his snout to the floor boards.  He trotted out the open door with Vivi close behind.

Mystery circled around outside the room while Vivi stood nearby and waited, her blue light stretching up and down the peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster of the walls.  Little grumble sounds came from Mystery as he stopped at a particular spot on the floor.

“Well,” Vivi said, “shouldn’t we try this way then?  But….”  She spun about, the creeping sense of being watched bore into her.  “Is it just me, or did these halls change again?” Mystery growled in his throat.  The dog raised his snout to face the direction Vivi was staring, her flashlight fading into the dark depths.

What caught his attention next was a faint sound. Mystery swung his head away and perked his ears, concentrating keenly.  Ahha.  He barked, glancing Vivi’s way before he trotted along the hall.  I need that light.

“I’m coming,” Vivi grumbled.  Then she heard it too, and soon they were running full speed down the corridor.  A few rooms Vivi had explored earlier were left closed, but she was certain each had been left open to mark exploration.  If the doors had been thrown shut by a stray draft she wouldn’t heard; though, she had been lost for several minutes, if not longer.

“We’re any of these doors open when you came through?” she called, not slowing.  Mystery looked back and forth between the shut doors, but never replied.  When they reached the corridors end, Mystery skid on his rear paws and came to a halt.  Vivi dashed around the corner and collided with Lewis, as he rushed up from the adjacent side.

“Dangit!” Lewis snapped.  He couldn’t do much but stand there, as Arthur plowed into him from behind.  He pressed a palm to his face and turned his light down, between the groaning figures that lay stunned on the floor. “Any survivors?”

“Mystery, come on.  I don’t wanna drown too.”  Arthur pushed the dog away, as he crawled over Vivi to console poor Arthur with aggressive nuzzles.  “Thank you, nonetheless.”

Lewis bit down on the torch handle he carried, and pulled Vivi up a hand and plucked Arthur up by the backpack.  “You look paler than usual, Vi.  Did something happen?” He let Arthur plop down onto his feet, and directed his flashlight beam back to the floor.

“Yeah,” she breathed.  Vivi fixed her head band and brushed some of her blue hair out of her eyes. “I may have upset him a bit.  I was— ” Her eyes cast down, and she frowned. “Hey.”  She maneuvered her flashlight to the side of the floor, where a space in boards was missing.  “What do you make of this?”  She shifts to the side of the broken patch of floor, when Arthur shuffles closer down beside her.  Vivi shines her light through the gap and Arthur stands on his hands and knees peering inside.  

“Something shiny?” Arthur suggests.  He squints and reaches over to push Vivi’s light a bit.  Whatever is within the floor shimmered.  “Hard to tell, but… I think that’s the lower floor. I’m not sticking my hand down in there.” He reached a hand over to Mystery when the dog lay beside his knee, and scratched his neck.

Lewis hovered over the two peering down, but like Arthur intoned it was difficult to gauge in the dark if it was something under the floorboards that glistened or if it was a room below.  “I don’t remember a shiny room,” he added.  Before Lewis went, on he leaned back and surveyed the atmosphere around them. For now the home was silent, but for a few off creaks and scuttling in the ceiling above.  Animals, he decided.  Sounded like mice or birds.  “Misty and I were thorough in our scouting.  Right?”

Mystery gurgled.  He’ll get back to Lewis later, scratches were going on.  Mystery pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned the side of his head on Arthur’s shoulder.

After a beat of quiet pondering Vivi snapped her fingers, the sudden motion and sound made Arthur squeak.  “I have an idea,” she announced dramatically, and grabbed Arthur by his shoulder.  “Do you have some twine?”

Arthur wrestles some control over his pulsing heart, and cocked his brow.  “I might have some cheese, if you please.”  He already had his backpack down and was going through its interior.

“How ‘bout some bad puns?” Lewis chimed.  “The really punny ones.”

“I see what you did there,” Arthur sniggered.  He handed Vivi the spool of twine and replaced the backpack on his shoulders.  “Are we going to receive a briefing?”

“Lew, your knife?”  Vivi took the offered knife, and set it aside.  She unloaded her backpack and dug around for the walkie-talkie.  “We’re gonna find that room.  Even if it’s been hidden.  Art, is your comm. shut off?”

Arthur tensed, and dug through his pockets.  “They weren’t working earlier,” he griped.  He flipped the switch on the back.  Vivi pressed the speak button on hers and spoke into it.

“Testing-testing.  Echo. Keep yours and make sure it stays on,” she said.  Vivi tied the end of the twine around the short antenna of her communicator, then, lowered it down into the hole.  The string remained tight for several feet before it slacked, and Vivi tested the line to make certain it didn’t snag.  She tied a section of the cord to a bent panel of the smashed floor, cut the spool free and returned Lewis’ knife.  “In case we can’t find the room.”

“Good thinking,” Lewis commended.  “But I’m sure we’ll find it.  If Arthur will lend us his lungs.”

Arthur frowned and glowered up at Lewis.  “Hardy har har.”

Only a general estimation of where the mysterious room was could be made.  Lewis and Mystery had gone through each room, every nook and cranny visible in their previous inspection.  Judging by their location in the home, the room had to be somewhere in the center of the home.  It was in the kitchen where Lewis saw his error.  

An open corridor was partially hidden but still accessible, behind some fallen ruble and support beams from the ceiling.  “Careful,” Lewis murmured.  He held back as Vivi strafed through the clear space in the ruble, followed by Mystery at her hells, then Arthur.  Lewis took a last glimpse of kitchen – the wood countertops, a rotted pump sink – before he squeezed through the opening.

The corridor was some sort of tight access, Lewis could barely turn around without knocking his elbows against the surrounding walls. Most of the musty carpet remained intact, and Mystery began an explosion of sneezing, each snuffle harder than the previous.

“Take it easy,” Lewis whispered.  Arthur was speaking into his communicator, and Vivi listened avidly for the sound of his voice within the walls.  “Or you’re gonna need some Benadryl before you go to bed.”  Mystery meant to snarl a reply, but he had another sneeze to share.

“Next time we stop by home,” Arthur says, “I’ll see about picking up some masks from work.  Might be good to have on hand.”  He spoke into the walkie-talkie, but thus far had heard no reply.

“Maybe speak louder?” Vivi reasoned.  “I’ll reimburse your uncle.”

A little jarred, Arthur raised his voice some as he spoke into the communicator.  “Naw! He likes to give away safety equipment if he thinks it’ll keep us from doing something reckless!”  

Lewis was stifling laughter.  “Price check on aisle nine?”  Arthur tried to reach behind him to swing through the blinding light at Lewis. “I couldn’t resist!”

“All right, Artie,” Vivi growled.  Mystery squeezed by her, out of the way as Vivi dragged Arthur away by his vest.  “Don’t bring the whole house down.”

“By my word, I’ll have my revenge,” Arthur cackled.  “You’ll see!”

“Bring it, hermano!”  Lewis stopped when Vivi pressed a single hand to his chest, her other arm shoved Arthur on ahead.

“I swear by the power of Greyskull, I’ll take you both on,” Vivi snarled.  And that was the end of that, though it didn’t stop the occasional jab or the snickers. At least they were back on track, sort of.

On either side of the narrow corridor was a door spaced every few feet.  Vivi would pause and set her ear to one door then the next, while Arthur walked on ahead prattling into the radio.  One door Mystery stopped beside and began scratching at the wood panel.  Vivi put her ear to the door and listened carefully. By now Arthur was done, he was making grumble snort noises into the radio transmitter, until Vivi popped his shoulder.

“Ow?  You hear it?” Arthur asked, perking.

“Yeah.”  Vivi replied. The doorknob spun in her grip, loose and worthless.  “I don’t doubt this is a room it won’t want us in.”  She moved back then lunged forward, smacking her shoulder into the door. Mystery and Arthur shared a glance.

Lewis held up his hands, and said, “Whoa-whoa-whoa.  Maybe let me go?”  Arthur tugged Vivi out of the way, and the three stood clustered together in the tight hall.  Lewis stood before the door and pocketed his flashlight; this allowed the light to hit the low ceiling above them a cast a pale fuchsia glow onto the walls at their shoulders.  He pressed his back into the wall behind him, then gave the door a few taps with his knuckles – up high and trailed down-down, found a preferred spot—

“Snore!” Arthur blurted.  Vivi giggled.  “Get on with it, man.  I think Mystery’s suffocating.”

Lewis grinned their way.  “Just gathering energy.”  He brought his fists up and slammed them against the doors upper portion, and the entire frame burst in.  The door clattered within the room, and Lewis, the group, all of them gaped, stunned. “WHAT?”

“Did you mean to KILL the door?” Arthur yelped.  He gestured wildly with his arms.  “That door is dead!  You murdered a door!  You-you… door serial killer!”

“I didn’t mean to do that!” Lewis gaged.

Vivi buried her face in her palms.  “If you’ve upset that spirit, I am deducting this from your pay.”

“You’re paying us now?” Lewis cried, her way.

“It was meant to be a surprise.  We were doing so well.”  Vivi fumbled with the light between her hands, and angled it to the yawning black swirl of the open room where Lewis was poised.  “What’s inside?

“Dust?  Mold?” As Arthur pocketed his communicator and twirled his light around.  Mystery barked up at him.  “Maybe treasure.  Or the lost bodies of a certain colony that vanished in the woods?”  He jerked his head up and raised his light.  Something… scuttled in the walls, or on the above floor. Fluttering and scratching, maybe animals.  It sounded big.  He cursed and rubbed at his eyes when silt from the cracked wood fell into his eyes. He gave a sharp screech when a hand grabbed his.

“Art!  Chill,” Vivi hissed.  “It’s just me.”  She raised her arm and aimed the light at their clasped hands.  “Stay together.”

Arthur took a shallow breath.  The dust still hovered around them.  “Right.  Got it.”

“Psst.  Hey,” Lewis whispered.  He was already in the room, but poked his head out from beyond the dreary gloom. “Check this out.”

Arthur let Vivi lead him, though it was impossible to get around or away in the claustrophobic corridor.  “What is it?” Arthur inquired, as Vivi tugged his hand.  He coughed at the fresh cloud of haze that had lifted when the door went down.  The room was stuffy, sealed off for centuries, days maybe; he can’t place the smell.  

When Arthur raised his flashlight, its gold hue intermingles with the purple and blues glittering in a weaving color of spectrum; though in the absence of white it is only black.  The contrast reminds him of one of those prism shirts he’d seen online. The entire room glitters and at first Arthur believes there’s so much dust kicked up, that it catches the light sweeping across the furniture of a forgotten era.  His arms tremble in the cold draft of the room, and he can see it’s not dust.  The room is filled with junk.

“What the crepes?” Lewis muttered.  He crossed the room to a vanity table, covered in bits of jewelry, a few rotten belts.  On the desk surface rests dozens of outdated cameras, among them bits of metal.  “I somehow doubt all this stuff was just left here by visitors.”

Vivi found the twine tether, but the walkie-talkie was not attached. She moved her flashlight down the twisted cord, plucked up the end and let it run through her hand.  The cord was ripped apart, snapped or chewed through. “Hmm.”

“Maybe rats,” Arthur offered.  The scuttling and flutters grow louder, restless.  Arthur moves his beam from a pile of coins on a bed, towards the ceiling.  “Collecting shiny crap.”  He turns his light down to the edge of the room, and paused.  “Huh.  Mystery.”

Mystery gives a yip and turns from examining a collection or marbles left in a corner.  He pads over to Arthur and stops, ears raised high.  A curious ‘urf’ is his only reply

“I know, right?”  Between his fingers Arthur holds Mystery’s bright red tag.  “I thought you looked different.  Here.”  He kneels down and sets his flashlight near his feet, and begins working at Mystery collar.

Vivi looked Arthur and Mystery’s way, as she moves over to Lewis side. “The comm.’s missing,” she said, and holds up the end of the twine.  “It has to be in this room.  It wouldn’t take it anywhere else.”

Lewis pulls out his walkie-talkie and tests the switch. “Hello?  Where are you, walker-talker?”  The color from his face drains, and Vivi has that same dawning horror in her eyes as she and Lewis share the gaze.

A low humming began to rise within the room, raising in volume. It sounded close, too close, right in the midst of their group.  The walls surrounding them shimmered with bits of metal, plastic, rings and lost pieces of jewelry.  Except one patch on the black wall, where Arthur’s torch was no facing.

Arthur winced as the ring on Mystery’s collar punctured his finger. Without thinking about it, he brought his finger to his mouth and nursed the wound.  He nearly bit that finger off when a heavy thud lurched from the floor right next to the two.  Mystery had been frowning at him at the time, but now the dogs eyes were wide and pinned to the side of his head.  Arthur followed the gaze, while his hand fumbled blindly at the dusty floor. Arthur gulped as he raised the revealing beam, to a pair of dusty slacks beside his shoulder.  The higher the light rose, the louder the humming became. The sound was dull, muffled, as if the room was plunged underwater.  Arthur wanted to stop but he couldn’t.  Some sick curiosity kept him going, he had to know, or it would haunt him perpetually in his dreams.  That was, until the light was just below the blotted, wrinkled collar.

An inhuman shriek rose up from the thing, its eyes glint and something flashed through the air.  Arthur felt himself yanked back by his backpack straps, Mystery was hauled back by his collar, half choked by the force.  In the growing dark something crashed, and the sound of scratching and buzzing, thrumming sounds lifted from the surrounding shadows.

“Out!  OUT! That’s done it, we are GONE!” Lewis snarled.  He pushed Arthur and Mystery ahead, after Vivi who was already diving through the doorway.  “RUN! RUN!  Don’t look back!”

“I didn’t get a clear picture!” Vivi hollered.  She was sprinting ahead, half bent forward as she struggled to pack away her supplies, save for the light.  Yes, even the camera had to be put away, though she knew that precaution would be regretted.  At her back Arthur was crying or laughing, she couldn’t tell.

“You’re a treat! Vi!” Arthur gasped.  On Arthur’s heels Mystery panted, his paws drumming the carpet in rapid succession.  “I would love to stay and let you get all the spooky pictures you want!  But that thing DID NOT HAVE A HEAD!”

“A decapitation?” Vivi squealed.  Arthur moaned.  Vivi fell forward, tripping on something of the ruble at the corridors edge.  She went skidding through the narrow space of the timber obstruction, and slid out onto the kitchen floor.  Arthur was directly behind her and staggers over Vivi at the last second, keeps going and crashes into one of the wood countertops built against the wall, but Arthur’s body still thinks it has momentum and flops over, somersaults, onto the countertop and lays there, legs dangling above his head. The torch rolls out of his grip and drops to the floor below.

“Ow….”

Mystery snatched up the lost flashlight and twisted to Vivi, growling and snuffling at her face.  Up! Up!

“You in one piece Arthur?” Vivi snapped.  She made it to her feet and stumbled towards the counter that Arthur lay on.  

“No,” said the downed figure.  “My mind is gone.”  He screeched when Vivi dragged him off the counter, and put him on his feet.

“We’ll get it back later,” she snorted.  “Move!”  Lewis sort of danced through the ruble wreckage and teetered after the group as they tore out of the kitchen area.  Mystery dashed ahead of them, carrying Arthur’s flashlight.  The yellow glow flashed through doorways left open, and in the depths of the looming gloom Arthur was sure he saw glimmering tawny orbs watching them, accusing them.  He picked up the pace.

The large entrance room was not as they left it.  The floorplan was similar but the walls were eroded, showing algae and bristling black spores, everything was rundown, as if the home had decayed years during the time they had wandered around.  Arthur raised his arm and pressed his nose into his sleeve.  “Ugh! Smells like sludge!”

An ecstatic shrieking rang out through the upper floors, vibrating through the walls and glass windows.  Over and over the cry sang out growing harsher with each spill.  Mystery spun in place with the flashlight, ears pinned back under the assault of the atrocious sounds.  They refused to let up or pause.

“Art!  Get the van opened up!”  Lewis snatched the keys from his pocket and tossed them Arthur’s way.  “Take my light too.”  He hurried by Arthur, shoving the torch into his hand before he followed Vivi around to the side of the room.  As Arthur darted towards the open front door, he snagged one of the larger bags and was gone.  Vivi was doing the same.  “Maybe we should leave it!”

“Our stuff’s expensive,” Vivi cries over the den of harsh squeals.  “It’s upset but not dangerous.”  She winced as another shriek tore out, by now all the rooms were an acoustic of wailing. “Carry what we can.”

Mystery twirled around and growled towards the corridor the group had spilled from.  He bristles the fur on his shoulders and snarled around the torch he held.

Something was crashing through the walls, all around them.  Vivi slid across the top of the table and lands beside Mystery, crouching.  She takes the light from his jaws and turns it to the hall.  In the dark something flashed, glittered.  Plaster fell from the ceiling, and the low hum was approaching from the dark where the torch was aimed, but the light couldn’t penetrate the wall of black.

Lewis was in the process of slinging cargo bag straps over his shoulder, when a pair of paws wrapped around his neck.  “What now?”  Lewis barely gave the dog latched to him a look, before he took note of Vivi slowly backing away from the corridor.  “Vi!  Time to go!”  He darted to Vivi and heaved her up underarm.  As Lewis twists away he manages to check back into the corridor, and spies what Vivi must have seen.  A dark shadow sprints at them, yellow light flashed above its shoulders.  Where the head should have been.

Arthur skid to a halt when Lewis intercepted him at the front door, a brief protest squawked out of Arthur as Lewis snatched him up and tore across the porch.  Lewis vaulted over the porch railing and sprinted the last few yards to the van. In the doorway emerged the shadow fiend seeking its quarry.

“What in— ” Arthur choked.  “Lewis! Faster Lewis!  Are you at your optimal speed?”  Arthur was upside down patting at Lewis’ back, occasionally glancing up and backwards.

“God Art,” Lewis pants.  “I’m a man not a jet!”  

Vivi crossed her arms.  “Could’ve fooled me.”  She had the misfortune of facing forward, and being unable to face the danger.  She tried to look behind her when Arthur gave a sharp squeal.

“Must go faster!  Lew’us!” Arthur stammered.  The black shroud was charging at them, it’s movements mirrored Lewis’ frantic charge. “Faster!  It’s COMING!”

Lewis sprang into the open back of the van and slumped sideways, dropping his cargo.  He was about to hop seats when a dry squeak popped out of Vivi.  

“Lew!  Art!” Mystery snarled and bit down onto Vivi’s shoulder sleeve and dug his paws into the plush carpet of the vans floor. He was skidding forward as Vivi was dragged backwards, her palms scraping at the floor.  “A little help!”  

What clung to Vivi was a gnarled black hand, glimmering like obsidian in the light of the fallen neglected torches rolling around.  A ragged shriek tore out of the thing that had Vivi by the ankles.  As if it were cackling.

“Art!  Drive!” Lewis snagged Vivi around her middle, braced his heels to the sides of the doorframe and pulled back.  But the dead thing had unnatural strength and heaved back with triple the drive, squealing.  Lewis never took his attention from it.  “ART!”

Arthur had locked up.  He sat on his butt staring, mind blank, shoulders quivering so hard the whole van rattled.  Lewis still calls to him but Arthur can’t hear him, he can only hear the harsh humming of the corpse.

A feral snarl splint from Mystery as he tore around and bit into Arthur’s wrist.  “AGH!” That snapped him out of it. Arthur flipped over and dives into the driver side seat, his back curled upwards as he lay with his legs bent up above his head.  He plucked the key from the cup holder and jammed it into the ignition.  The van started up like an answered prayer, and Arthur jammed his bleeding hand down onto the gas pedal.

“Give… BACK!”  The shadow spirit reached for the bumper of the van, one arm locked to Vivi’s ankle. The van launched out of its grip, as did the blue stockings of the girl.  Dust and gravel kicked up into its chest as the van fishtailed out of the clearing, and flew out onto the wooded grove.  The shadow stood there watching as its quarry tore off into the night and vanished around a tall bend of trees.  Shortly, the air became tranquil, insects chirped in the night and it was all alone. It turned its shoulders and ‘peered’ down at its trophy.

As soon as Vivi was out of the fiends grip and Lewis could pull her safely from the open, swinging doors of the van, he coiled his arms around her and held her.  Lewis pressed his face onto Vivi’s hair, but raised his eyes over the wisps of blue to stare off into the dark clearing that led to the path of the lakeside home.  An ominous dome of shadow lingered in that area, but it wasn’t following.  The silence of the van seemed foreign.

“L-Lewis?”  Vivi pushed out of his hold a bit and stares up at him.  “You… saved me.”

Lewis blinked at her, and briefly evaluated the claim.  “Well… I uh— ” he cut off when Vivi flung her arms around his neck.  “I kind of… did.”

“My hero!” she gushed.  “That was quick thinking.”

Lewis blushed and rubbed the back of his head.  “Y’know, I wasn’t about to let something steal you. No matter what….” He let his voice trail off.  There wasn’t much else to say.  Lewis was still shaken, and he didn’t like the back doors open; regardless if or not the shade could follow, he wouldn’t risk it.  He still felt protective of Vivi, and had some irrational fear that letting her out of his embrace would invite the fiend to snatch her away and drag her all the way back to its dark seclusion.

Mystery snorted, and raised a paw to adjust his askew glasses. He flattened his earsdown when Vivi leaned out of Lewis arms and rubbed his face between her hands.  “I didn’t forget you, Mystery,” Vivi said.  “What would we do without you?”  Mystery puffed up his chest and smirked.

“Art’s doing the getaway,” Lewis murmured.  He… still didn’t want to let Vivi go, even if they were far down the road at this point and gaining distance.  Dust and rocks kicked up into the undercarriage and the van occasionally swerved.  That seemed bad.  Lewis put himself between Vivi and the backdoor, and skillfully leaned out to take one door and haul it shut, then the other.  Better, but he was still uneasy.  It might take some time to get over the experience.

“Help,” called from the front.  Lewis and Vivi stepped forward, or Lewis did.  Vivi stopped and knelt down.

“Artie,” Lewis said, as he leaned on the middle of the bench seat. “How?”  He gestured Arthur, crumpled up over himself, face to the steering wheel, one hand on the gas.  “That’s kind of dangerous.”

“Would you just push me over!” Arthur retorts.  “My backs not meant to bend like this!”

Another gasp came from Vivi.  “He stole my shoe!”

[izanyas]

Build Upon The Ruins (8)

Penultimate chapter of the Pacific Rim Soukoku fic. Thank you Laidon for the beta.

Rating: M Words: 7,600 Warnings: death, violence.

[Read from Chapter 1]

Build Upon The Ruins Chapter 8

Dazai let the aide dress him this time.

Her name was Lucy. He knew it because he had let her place the plates onto him rather than snatch the things for himself, and he had asked her, under her wide-eyed stare. She was silent after that. Hands busy with making extra sure everything fitted him right, lathering lotion onto his bruised shoulder before it had to go back in after only hours. The twenty-odd people around them were equally silent.

Kyouka stood in a corner with Akutagawa's awful cat in hand. The thing had no perception of severity—it hissed and squirmed in her hold, loud enough to grate at some nerves, until Akutagawa himself caved in and came near it to stroke its head with gloved fingers.

The clicks and snaps of the suits were the only sound after that.

Dazai didn't look at Kunikida as he marched back into the room. Kunikida treated him the same. They stood silent near the bridges, and Dazai felt numbly grateful that Double Black would be armed first, by virtue of having never left the station at all. No one had replaced the cannon they had lost for lack of time. Not that it would matter much. In an underwater fight, it would mostly come down to blades and bare hands. On speed as well. The jaegers' bodies were wide, but oxygen could only last them so long.

He did look at Chuuya before stepping onto the bridge, lips still burning from his almost-touch and from Kunikida's words. There was a desperate tint to the way Chuuya's face colored in the bright lights of the comm room; a sense of urgency he had stopped feeling himself when Chuuya had turned his back on him earlier.

Do you even realize how much you love him?

Of course he did.

"You can get in now," Chuuya said.

His words were for the both of them—for Kunikida and Dazai—but his eyes were on Dazai, and Dazai's were on him. Dazai nodded at him without word. He stepped toward the open hull of Double Black's cockpit for the very last time.

He was attached to his station in under a minute. The last he saw of the quiet girl named Lucy was the bright of her red hair as Double Black closed; the shade of it was so different from Chuuya's that he felt almost startled.

"Initiating neural handshake."

The drift started as they fell to join the rest of the jaeger's body. Kunikida was an open well of frustrated compassion, so entranced by Dazai's own plight that his own were buried under it. They stabilized right as the head fixed itself to the body. It was their third drift in under twenty-four hours; Kunikida's head hadn't had time to leave him fully, and it wasn't a second before the handshake took hold.

Dazai didn't pay much mind to it. The relief of having won had faded in the morning. A record-nearing drift was of no concern to him now. He calibrated the right hemisphere unthinkingly, felt Kunikida do the same with more focus, and latched onto that rather than force himself into his own awareness.

Kunikida was sympathetic but not forgetful. The objective they were after was at the front of his mind. Dazai fitted himself to it until he too thought of nothing but the fight to come. Moving Double Black came easier then, even with how sore his body was. He read over the information relayed to them on their targets, kept an eye on the gauge of the oxygen tanks, came to a standstill alongside Kunikida's legs as they waited for the others to be ready.

Death Vine was second after them, Steinbeck and Lovecraft entirely silent over the line. They were the ones carrying the explosives; Double Black would be running point, Tiger Claw handling defense. Heartblade and Scarlet Wind at the rear. The formation was unlikely to hold when faced with five kaiju and with the reduced mobility of underwater fights, but it was the best they could do.

It occurred to Dazai that he knew next to nothing about most of the pilots fighting alongside him now. He knew their names—Death Vine and Scarlet Wind he had fought with, back when Chuuya stood by his side—but he didn't know them. Aside from Akutagawa and Atsushi, he hadn't spent time with any of them on ground.

The thought tasted regretful.

"There's no reason to," Kunikida said quietly. "You did what you could. You can spend time with them later."

Dazai looked at him from the corner of his eyes, not daring to move his head, and the jaeger's with it. "You're right," he replied. "Forgive my sentimentality."

Kunikida stared at him wordlessly, hesitation running through him. He was right about more things than he knew, Dazai thought. Insightful and kind in ways he had seldom encountered. It was a wonder he could be so wrong about himself.

"All right," Chuuya said once all the jaegers stood alive. "The exact coordinates of the breach are with all of you. Don't exhaust yourselves trying to run there once we drop you, they're waiting for you anyway. Kick that bomb in and leave as soon as you can. Keep watch of your air once you drop below sea-level."

He was silent for a second, the sound of his inhale audible through the mic.

"Good luck," he added. "And come back."

We will, Dazai heard through Kunikida's mind, in surprising contrast with his dooming words earlier.

The walk itself was uneventful once the choppers dropped them. The Pacific was quiet, the sun high and faraway above them. The last two days had been nothing but this—sunlit expanses of calm sea, the winter cold but bright, Yokohama's ruins shining under white dust. They walked past the corpse of the morning's bigger kaiju, whose open belly swelled over the rolling backs of the waves and spilled blue blood into the water. It had crusted already.

The area would be fed the magical life-bringing properties of it for the years to come. Kaiju blood was unkind to human flesh but a miracle for all other life forms. It was probably designed that way. Dazai envisioned, for the first time, a sea life brought back to pre-pollution grace; there was a sort of peace to be found in the idea that even if they failed—even if humanity was wiped out—Earth would still thrive with living things.

"I forgot to congratulate you, Nakajima," someone said into the silence.

It took Dazai a moment to recognize the voice of Scarlet Wind's pilot, Mitchell.

"What?" Atsushi replied.

"For your stunt this morning. You're quite the romantic."

There was a beat, and then Higuchi started laughing.

"Shut up!" Atsushi said shakily. Dazai didn't have to stretch his imagination at all to picture the way he would blush, despite the situation. "Oh my God—Higuchi, shut it."

"No way," she replied. "Do you know how much money I made? I told you all these idiots would come around soon."

"I hate all of you," mumbled Akutagawa.

"It does seem to be a pattern among pilots," Mitchell said pleasantly. "God knows what Death Vine get up to in their down time."

"Nothing," Steinbeck replied flatly.

It was banter born out of desperation. Their voices were thin not just from the static, but also from the knowledge that everything said now was meaningless in the face of what was to come. Dazai felt Kunikida's startled worry, his confused amusement, even as they strained to move Double Black's legs.

"Still," Mitchell went on, softer now. "Tiger Claw's obvious coming together isn't the longest I've been made to wait for confirmation. Care to satisfy a lady's curiosity, Dazai?"

Kunikida took in a weak breath, mind rushing with restlessness. But Dazai had spent years alongside these people, fighting with them if not befriending them, living in shared bases for weeks at a time. Much like himself, they felt the need for closeness. However late this camaraderie came.

They would be ending this today. One way or the other.

He was smiling when he replied, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Mitchell's answering chuckle was warm. In that moment, Dazai didn't even mind that Chuuya was listening.

He kept an idle ear out for the rest of their chatter. He felt relaxed at last, taken by the focus of the fight rather than anything else. His body was too used to piloting to worry about much else. The ground's worries were left to the ground; and Chuuya was part of the ground now, no matter that he would always carry him into the drift. Dazai couldn't allow himself to jeopardize everything for him. It was a rough wake-up call, but one that felt welcome nonetheless.

They submerged a kilometer away from the breach, where the floor of the world suddenly dipped; their voices died to save the oxygen, their minds hardened, their eyes watched ahead for signs of the enemy.

Sunlight wasn't enough to show them their path. Each of their steps raised dust, rock, corals; the jaeger's powerful lights only shone so far away. Silence reigned underwater like it could not over it—Dazai could hear himself breathe, could hear Kunikida breathe in tandem, yet the tons of metal they moved like a second skin barely made any noise.

The kaiju found them first, long before they could glimpse the breach's shining edges.

The first of them swam into Heartblade's side in a rush. The jaeger fell out of sight, silent and slow, followed by the body of the shark-like creature; Dazai soothed Kunikida's instantaneous panic by reminding them both of the vitals they could still read on the tiniest of all screens.

Then they stopped paying attention to the rest, because the greatest beast Dazai had ever seen stood before them on its hind legs. He didn't need to check to know that this was a category five kaiju.

His and Kunikida's minds aligned reflexively in the motions of the fight, deeper encroached than they had ever been. Their hands grabbed the kaiju's in a hold, each finger felt by them both, right and left sides combined. They managed to make the beast plow backward for a single second; then it shot above them, kicking itself up on the ground, aiming for Death Vine's explosive load.

Tiger Claw caught it.

Death Vine was the only one of them who could shoot underwater. Double Black's cannon was still gone, Tiger Claw's missiles hadn't been replaced, Scarlet Wind's thrusters could not be used to move like they did in open air. Heartblade only used blades at all. Lovecraft and Steinback were facing a third opponent, a category four with the body of an eel whose back ran with blue electricity.

"We need to take that one down first," Kunikida said, at the same time as Dazai thought it.

It looked too much like the one that had disabled the others' power.

They jumped to it blade-first, the satisfaction of seeing it tear through the kaiju's side not enough to drag them into relief. The giant eel squirmed away as fast as it had come, barely avoiding the first row of bullets that Death Vine tried to spear it with.

They swerved Double Black back in position in front of Death Vine, Scarlet Wind standing at its back. Dazai's legs were already shaking from the effort of moving underwater and the fatigue of the whole day. Kunikida's weren't in a much better shape.

"Death Vine," he said. "We need to move toward the breach."

"We still don't know where the other two are."

"I'm with Double Black on this," Hawthorne replied. "Better to drop the explosives as quickly as possible and then finish them off."

After a second, Steinbeck answered, "Fine."

They moved slowly, surrounded by darkness. The breach shone brighter with every step they took. Dazai did not let his mind wander toward his students still caught in combat, with Higuchi and Akutagawa Gin having fallen out of sight so quickly. He kept their eyes alert for sight of the remaining category five while Kunikida managed their moves.

The eel-like kaiju tore through Scarlet Wind's side within two hundred meters of the breach.

Dazai felt his heart stutter at the sight, felt Kunikida's mouth open on panicked swears—it was poor relief to see the jaeger grasp the kaiju's body between its palms and open its nearest thruster. The beast's howls were lost to watery silence. Its skin turned red at the heat, splitting open and bursting with blue blood, and when it ran away again, Scarlet Wind's legs stopped working.

"We're stuck," Mitchell said, panting. "Nakahara. We can't walk anymore."

Chuuya took a moment to answer. "Escape now," he ordered.

Death Vine shot again at the eel. It howled, and squirmed, and fell lifeless onto the murky ocean floor. From the other side of the breach, the last two kaiju rose—and Dazai knew what Mitchell's answer would be before she could say it.

He and Kunikida went at the category five first. It was a monstrous thing, more gigantic even than the one Tiger Claw was still fighting at their rear. The lower half of its body was made of powerful tentacles; it swam toward them faster than their opponent of the morning had, and it was all they could do to stop it with both arms. Their feet slipped backwards helplessly.

"We can still fight," Mitchell said. The last of the category fours was hopping toward her, mouth wide open, sharp teeth gleaming in the colorful light of the breach.

"Mitchell…"

"Needs must, Nakahara. You know it as well as we do."

Her voice was peaceful. Filled with quiet resolve.

The thrusters that had warranted Scarlet Wind its name lit one after the other, making the water boil around them. The jaeger's body glowed red with it. A beacon in the darkness.

"For what it's worth," she declared, all lines open, "I enjoyed fighting alongside all of you."

She didn't say anything to her husband. Those last words would be shared between their minds only.

The kaiju rammed into them with all of its strength, making Scarlet Wind's upper half detach cleanly off its dead legs. The beast's body tore open against the heat of the thrusters, skin melting off of it like burned plastic; and as it screamed out its last breath, it grabbed the jaeger's skull with its hands and crushed it.

-- 

The first seconds of the drift were incomprehensible. The feeling of being gripped by the heart and the belly was so sudden that Yosano almost hurled from it. Nausea crawled up her throat, and she thought, Is that how the pilots feel? in the fraction of a second she was left to her own self. She couldn't understand that they could find any pleasure in it.

Then Kajii's mind touched hers, unfamiliar and bright in the dark of the handshake—and she barely had the time to glimpse it at all, to feel his emotions run through hers like quicksilver, before the kaiju brain overtook everything.

She fell.

She dropped from impossible height and directly through the breach; she witnessed in too-fast flashes the faces of the kaiju's creators, skeletal creatures with too many legs and eyes bent over wide tables and wired to one another. She didn't understand any of it, not one second.

Their world was one of burned out colors and acid air. Its skies were yellow with chemical clouds that fell like dust onto the barren ground. She traveled through their history for eons, from destroyed world to destroyed world, witnessed the execution of countless peoples. The only physicality she could cling to was the burning in her eyes, from grief and pain alike. She tasted blood on her lips.

Yosano, someone said.

It took her way too long to recognize Kajii.

She grabbed the open hand he was shoving at her with everything she had. The embrace of his thoughts was a comfort now rather than a pain. She lost herself to human memories of him as a child and him as an adult—to mourning not unlike hers, to resolve she knew—before he shook her out of it.

She was following his lead as he treaded once more into the kaiju's minds. This time he guided her in the right direction, his own head aflame with the awfulness of the experience.

She could understand why Nakahara had looked the way he did, now. The kaiju's forays through her own brain felt like needles under her skin, like bugs' feet crawling on her scalp. It felt unnatural, wrong—it felt like corruption.

Kajii reached the breach with a focus she wouldn't have given him credit for. It still felt as though he were holding her hand. She stepped up alongside him, making him drop her now that she had regained her composure, and together they looked.

They saw the breach open and close like a throat between their worlds. This side of it looked much the same as theirs. They saw the kaiju's masters breathe life into one of the creatures—she recognized it, with a jolt of fear, as Fawk—saw the mouth of the breach open at the contact of its feathered body, after flashing lights were done roaming it over.

Knowledge settled through them both with the strength of a million linked minds.

They blinked. Yokohama's blue sky sprawled infinite over them.

"What," Yosano rasped.

Then she rolled over to her side and vomited onto the sand.

There were hands on her back, soothing and familiar. Naomi, she thought breathlessly—feeling surprised that she was back into herself, rid of Kajii's own thoughts and life.

"Why did you turn it off?" she coughed.

"You're bleeding out of your eyes," Naomi replied curtly. "And Kajii is seizing—"

Yosano didn't let her finish. She jumped to her feet, groaning at the pain in her bound arm, and rushed toward Kajii's fallen form. Fitzgerald was kneeling by him and looking eminently disgusted, even as he made sure he wasn't choking on his own bile. She shoved him away with a foot so she could take his place and keep a hand on Kajii as tremors wrecked his body.

She could feel liquid on her face now. Warmer than tears. She wiped the blood off with the back of her sleeve and didn't move away. If her eyes still stung, it was nothing she couldn't deal with.

Kajii stopped convulsing much quicker than he had the day before. He lay still and shaky on the ice-cold sand, wet coughs tearing out of his mouth. Yet his eyes moved to meet hers the second he seemed to regain consciousness of himself, and the words he said were the ones on her own mind.

"We need to warn them," he breathed.

The breach. They won't be able to get in.

Yosano didn't bother with making sure he was fit for transport. Kouyou would not notice communication from outside now, and neither would Nakahara. They need to reach them in person. She slung Kajii's arm above her shoulders with her one good hand and hoisted the both of them to their feet, her own knees shaking from the effort.

"What are you doing?" Fitzgerald asked.

"Going back to the dock," she heaved.

"Do you intend to drag him the whole way? It's a twenty minute walk from here even without extra luggage."

She glared at him, saliva still wet around her mouth, eyes no doubt red with blood. "What the fuck else do you suggest I do?" she spat at him. "This is an emergency, Fitzgerald."

He looked at her in silence, appalled and offended at once. She stood tall through it in spite of how exhausted she was, down to her very bones.

"This is ridiculous," he declared at last.

"If you're going to try to stop me…"

Her words died as he took Kajii off of her, his other hand fiddling idly with a pager she hadn't even noticed him taking out. A pager. She hadn't seen one in decades. "I'll drive you," he offered.

"What?"

A shiny black car was already running toward them. It came to a halt next to him, precisely, the door level with his body. The man who opened it from inside was old, his eyes kind as they rested on the three of them.

"Nice," Kajii slurred uselessly.

Fitzgerald threw him inside without ceremony.

He turned toward Yosano, then, holding the door at the back open in invitation.

"Why?" she asked him. It came out breezy with disbelief.

"I told you," he said lowly. "I'm a dreamer at heart."

Yosano gulped in the cold February air. It ached inside her lungs. "You never thought the jaeger program was a lost cause," she realized.

He smiled at her, the lines around his eyes deepening with it, making him look younger. It was the most honest expression she had seen him offer.

"Harvesting kaiju will only last me as long as humanity is here to buy," he told her. "And if I have to choose between living alone with monsters and living free of them… I think the answer to that would be obvious to anyone, doctor."

-- 

Double Black swayed forward with the strength of the explosion.

It was all Dazai and Kunikida could do to keep their hands linked with the kaiju's; its tentacles had already wrapped around their middle in a suffocating hold, the pain of it roaring through them both and making their scarce air hard to find. Dazai unfolded the blade from his right arm as soon as Kunikida gave him the go, letting go of the kaiju's arm so he could slice through the tendrils choking them.

The kaiju screamed, close enough to be heard through the water. It swam away with its remaining limbs and disappeared into the shadows.

Dazai's fingers were on the comm line instantly. "Heartblade," he called.

It took a long second, filled with static nothingness, enough to make fear shiver through him.

Then, finally: "We're here. Got rid of one of them. We're missing one hand, though."

Dazai exhaled harshly.

"Scarlet Wind is—"

"We know," Higuchi cut in.

Right. They all had access to the others' readings. Mitchell and Hawthorne would have faded out of theirs like they had Double Black's.

"Tiger Claw's struggling against that category five," Higuchi went on, her voice steady for lack of time to mourn. "We're going to help them. You guys make sure Death Vine drops the bomb into the breach."

"Okay. Good luck." His fingers left the panel.

Kunikida had kept watch around them while he was talking, cameras and lights aimed at the opaque dust floating everywhere. There were still three kaiju to take care of, two of them more powerful than they had ever seen. With Tiger Claw and Heartblade busy with the category five at their back, and Death Vine almost out of ammo, the bulk of the fight would rest on Double Black.

One jaeger against two kaiju, for the second time that day.

"Let's move," Kunikida said under his breath.

Dazai didn't have to be told twice. They fell aside Death Vine in the eery, murky silence of the ocean. All fish were long gone from the scene of the fight; everywhere around was only water and dirt, and the bright, alien light of the open breach.

Dazai's heart rate didn't spike as they made their way to the edge, almost close enough to peer inside. The breach didn't look any different now than it had years ago when they still tried to bomb it fruitlessly.

Doubt hovered at the confines of his mind.

"It'll work this time," Kunikida said. "You heard the briefing. The breach had to stabilize to let out these monsters, we just need to drop in the bomb."

"Yeah," Dazai replied.

He didn't have time to say more, because the last of the category fours swam toward them. They only just had the presence of mind to put themselves in the path it was taking toward Death Vine rather than avoid it. Dazai raised the blade-arm and shoved it under the monster's belly; it sliced open its skin, but not deeply enough to slow it.

The beast swerved around them with grace, blood pouring like vapor into the water. Its feet grabbed Death Vine's right arm.

"Fuck," Dazai let out, "Kunikida—"

Kunikida was closing his fist and punching forward before he could finish, and the blow wasn't enough to maim in any way, but at least the kaiju ran off once more.

"Chuuya, we need to drop the bomb now."

"Wait."

Dazai stilled. That had been Kouyou's voice.

"Boss?" Kunikida asked.

Kouyou replied after what felt like hesitation. "We're waiting for confirmation first."

"Confirmation on what?"

The shout had come out of the both of them, but Kouyou didn't get to reply. The category five rammed into them from the back, teeth open on the top of Double Black's skull, making the sound of bending metal echo through the cockpit.

For a second the situation was so strikingly, achingly familiar that Dazai froze; it was Kunikida who saved them by raising both of their arms and plunging the sword into the kaiju's shoulder. It ran off once again.

Dazai breathed out, shaken. The drift was alight with memories—Chuuya stuck under metal and Chuuya comatose in a white bed and Chuuya sweating, crying, bleeding through months of physical therapy—

"Dazai!"

His mind snapped back to the present.

"It's not dead yet," Kunikida continued loudly. He was panting—it took a moment for Dazai to understand that it was because their oxygen reserves had been compromised.

Red light shone through the cockpit, alarms ringing out. Kunikida only had a few minutes left.

"We need to drop the bomb now," Dazai repeated, silently ordering Kunikida to stop talking. He felt the other's agreement through himself—strengthened himself with it, tore himself away from the fear. "Ane-san, we don't have time."

"Tiger Claw and Heartblade just killed the other one. They're twelve hundred meters behind you, if you just wait—"

The ocean floor exploded under them.

Double Black was sent flying up, almost high enough to reach sunlight again. The perspective would have been comforting if not for the fact that they couldn't get back down in time to help Death Vine.

Dazai watched with wide eyes as both kaiju zeroed in on the remaining jaeger. Steinbeck and Lovecraft stopped them the best they could, firing round after round of the last of their ammunition, opening holes into the kaiju's bodies; they lost an arm and kept shooting, lost a foot and kept standing, and the kaiju went again and again, relentless with the sort of rage only known to the dying.

"Drop the bomb!" he yelled into the line, shoulders and thighs burning through the effort of carrying the kaiju down. They landed atop the biggest of the two beasts, stilling it just enough to give Death Vine some space, and Dazai spoke again. "Just drop it—"

"Don't drop it!" Yosano's voice shouted.

Death Vine's left leg was ripped out of its socket. The category four swam away with it almost giddily, its eyes fixed onto the load strapped to the jaeger's chest as if looking at a meal.

"Yosano?"

She sounded breathless and pained, with a different panic than the one she demonstrated when faced with the unknown. Dazai heard the air she sucked in and almost felt it in his own body. "Don't drop it," she repeated hurriedly. "The breach won't open for anything except kaiju."

"What," he said.

It was Kajii who answered, almost voiceless with exhaustion. "The reason we haven't been able to attack the breach is because it—it scans them as they go in. It only opens to the kaiju's bodies' signature. If you drop the bomb now it'll only bounce back like it always does."

The category five's giant body struggled under their hold. Dazai tightened his grip on it with all the strength left him in, acutely aware of Kunikida's lowering hold on the drift, his mind parsing away with every second his oxygen flew out. Dazai himself wouldn't be far behind.

"Then," he said, head fogged with exhaustion and what he barely recognized as hopelessness, "then what, what do we do?"

"You have to make it think you're a kaiju. You need to drop in with a kaiju in good enough shape to be recognized by the breach."

The category four shoved its foot through Death Vine's defenseless middle.

Dazai watched the blurry silhouette of it through the darkened visor, through the dust and the green water. The foot came out through the other side of the mark-two's body, and its knee dropped to the floor of the sea, arm hanging limply by its side.

There's no way, Kunikida thought through him, his despair thick as honey. There's no way they'll make it.

Dazai swallowed. "There is a way," he said.

His eyes flew to the gauge of Double Black's overheating core.

"Dazai?"

"Death Vine," he called through the line, ignoring Chuuya's voice. "No—Steinbeck. Lovecraft. Can you hear us?"

It took a while. Dazai let the moment pass, past the point of physical pain now; his shoulder burned from the strain of this morning, his head was starting to ache as Kunikida faded and the drift weighed on him more and more. Still, his hold didn't relent. The kaiju in his arms squirmed and fought and roared, dragging them away from the breach, closer to Death Vine's mangled armor.

Eventually, Steinbeck replied. "I can hear you."

'I'. Not 'we'. Dazai's chest tightened with misery.

"We don't need the bomb," he said. "Double Black is enough for the job."

"I understand."

"Dazai," Chuuya breathed. "What are you saying?"

"Double Black is nuclear. It's a bomb in and of itself. I can take this kaiju with me, make the core explode once we're in the breach."

"You'll need to escape before—"

"That's fine," he replied, heart beating in his throat. "Our escape pods don't look damaged. Just cut the drift as soon as we're in. Steinbeck…"

He heard the breath Steinbeck took in, the weight of the solo drift on him that Dazai had experienced once before. He would be feeling the same all-encompassing pain that Dazai had. The loneliness and the raw edges of his own mind, so small and insignificant now that its match had vanished.

"Nakahara," Steinbeck said, "tell Tiger Claw and Heartblade to retreat now."

They all heard the confusion of the remaining pilots' voices, as Chuuya relayed the order. Dazai could almost see him. Hunched over a table, tense through his whole body, eyes dark with helplessness and fury.

Now, more than ever, Chuuya would wish he were the one in the midst of battle.

Tiger Claw and Heartblade disappeared from Dazai's own signals. He undid his hold around the category five kaiju's middle to grab it by the neck instead and start his long, slow way across the two hundred meters separating them from the breach. He felt Kunikida follow his motions even half-gone as he was, all the air knocked out of him until only the very last dregs of the oxygen tanks remained.

"Thank you," Dazai said as Death Vine faded back into the dark, the last kaiju's silhouette turning around it like a child circling a toy.

"I'll wait until you're in the breach," Steinbeck replied coldly. "Just… make sure you finish this for good, Dazai."

He cut the line before Dazai could answer.

Dazai started cutting into the kaiju's neck as they neared the bright borders of the breach. The kaiju howled and struggled, but Dazai's grip was inescapable. Its too-wide body stretched in a last effort to kill before it died; the last of its tentacles wrapped around Double Black's hips, squeezing the air out of its pilots once more.

It was useless, though. They were already too close. Dazai felt Kunikida's last full breaths go into flexing their knees together, the brunt of his mind already gone, misty fragments of memories vanishing as Dazai glimpsed them. They jumped into the breach.

Through the opening above them they saw the ocean ripple, dust and kaiju blood and metal flying away with the strength of Death Vine's explosion. The last kaiju stilled in their arms at last.

The breach stayed open.

Dazai felt the drift vanish as they fell; Kunikida had been so faint beforehand that with the extension of awareness that remained, more psychological than real, it was as though he hadn't left at all.

The walls of the breach were the same color as its edges in their world. Running lines of yellow and blue light, red sparks that gave off no heat. It looked like the very heart of fire.

"Kunikida-kun," Dazai said. Breathless from more than just relief. "It's done."

Kunikida looked at him, half-unconscious already. The breaths he was struggling to draw in stained the glass of his helmet with mist, here and gone just as quick to the rhythm of his panting. Dazai unhooked himself from his station with surprising ease. It wasn't until he was pushing himself off of it that he realized it was because Earth's gravity was gone.

He had little training for zero G situations, but it didn't matter. His stomach didn't churn as he pushed himself in Kunikida's direction, maybe from the fatigue, maybe because saving humanity erased all bodily concerns once and for all as a reward.

Maybe because Dazai already had eight years of knowing what falling out of gravity felt like. He only needed to meet Chuuya's eyes.

"It's okay," he said, replying to the faint hum of fear he could feel across himself and Kunikida. He caught himself on Kunikida's station deftly. "I'm sending you away now. The pod has enough air for you to reach sea level, you'll be fine."

"You," Kunikida wheezed.

Dazai smiled at him. "It's just falling, Kunikida-kun," he replied. "Anyone can fall. It's done. You just relax and go home."

Kunikida said nothing when Dazai pressed the button of the emergency exit. He leaned down into the moving seat, eyes fixed onto Dazai's, and the lack of breathing air wasn't enough to quench his immeasurable compassion. Dazai felt his reluctance and fear right as Kunikida discovered them, no matter that the neural handshake had already faded.

"You're a good man," he whispered, too low to be heard, knowing that the remaining tendrils of the drift would carry the message anyway. "One of the best I've ever met."

Kunikida's hand tried to grab his as he ascended toward the top of Double Black's metallic skull. Dazai caught it and squeezed it briefly.

You did a great job, partner.

Kunikida was unconscious before the exit pod was done swallowing his still body.

The ejection came with no sound and no jostling. One second he was there, and the next he was gone.

"Chuuya," Dazai said next.

It took a moment for the comm line to sparkle in his ear, faintly, a whole universe away—but when Chuuya replied, "I'm here," Dazai felt it as if it had been whispered onto his neck.

He felt warmer with it. He carried the sound of Chuuya's breathing over the line as his numb fingers played with the flickering controls. Tension had seeped out of him the moment the last kaiju had died; when the system refused to answer, too damaged by the beast's teeth, the only thing he felt was wry amusement.

It seemed like fitting justice. Like the logical continuation to his life. So close and never enough.

He pushed his body away from Kunikida's station and toward the manual valve of the nuclear reactor. "The automatic override is down," he said calmly. "I have to activate it myself."

A second, and then: "Just hurry up."

Dazai nodded, though no one could see him.

He had never realized how wide the space inside Double Black's head was. He had never been alone in it before. Even when he kept the structure of the giant's body standing through sheer strength of will, Chuuya's lifeless body crushed and bleeding out at his feet, a whole half of the skull ripped open by the kaiju's claws… the cockpit had always felt tiny. Crowded. Like the inside of his own mind.

"You know," he said as he floated toward the trap door, "I think I'm gonna miss this big pile of metal."

"Save your breath."

What for? he thought fondly. "I wouldn't have met you if not for it," he continued. "So I'm grateful, in a way."

Chuuya didn't answer. Dazai listened to the sound of his breathing through the static, almost as shallow as his own. He spoke again when his hands finally reached the bottom of the trap and started pulling up. "It's weird. I don't think I've been this far away from you in my entire life."

"Stop wasting your oxygen."

"I never believed in fate, growing up," Dazai continued. The door wasn't bulging yet, and he frowned thoughtlessly at it. "You know it. I was a miserable kid in a miserable world—why the hell would I think there was anything waiting for me out there?"

He heard the sound of Chuuya's body moving. Maybe to lean further over his desk, spine sharp under the layers of his clothes. Maybe to grab more tightly at his cane. The image of it was perfect down to every strand of hair, every pore of his skin. Dazai's eyesight faded to blue as if he were meeting his eyes.

"I never believed in it," he said. "Fate, soulmates. The grand destiny of things. Until I met you."

"Dazai," Chuuya replied shakily. "Just activate the reactor and go."

He had said come back earlier as they went into the fray. He didn't say it this time, just as Dazai had never replied he would. Just as they had never said all the things they needed to.

As he was now, stranded between worlds, alone in his own body and his own mind, with Chuuya's voice beating alongside his heart… Dazai couldn't understand why.

There was no fear anymore.

"I don't know if I'm going to have time to leave," he said.

He smiled in spite of the agonized breath Chuuya sucked in. The door budged under his efforts, not enough to grasp the lever behind it, not yet. Double Black fell closer and closer to the world of their enemies, farther away from Earth, from Chuuya, but Dazai felt no hurry. His head was so very light with the absence of everything that had kept him shriveled up and terrified. So very clear.

"I'm doing this for you," he told Chuuya.

Tranquility and acceptance and joy—those he could feel, more brightly than he had in years, shining now that the abject terror was gone. The slow and sure knowledge of what was about to happen made all worry pointless.

"I don't care about humanity. I don't care about saving the world. But saving you…"

"Turn on the damn thing and leave!"

"I never realized it like this before," he continued. "I was never fighting to save the world. I was fighting to save you."

He felt so absurdly, so completely foolish for not having said it earlier.

"You being alive—it's the only thing I want. I don't need anything else."

Earth would thrive anew with life and it would thrive still with Chuuya, and those were all the reasons Dazai piloted at all. They had always been.

"Chuuya, I—"

"Don't you dare," Chuuya cut in. Snarl and tooth and nail, like a feral, hurt animal. "Don't say another word."

The door opened.

Chuuya took in another trembling breath, one that Dazai felt shake through his chest, where he had carried Chuuya with him from the moment they had met. In and out of the drift.

"I'm so stupid," he said. His voice was thin from lack of air, but he could barely feel his lungs suffocate next to the elation of what he now understood. "I never needed the drift to talk to you at all."

Whatever Chuuya tried to reply broke into a wordless moan.

"I love you," Dazai said, grabbing the lever. "I'm sorry for being such a coward."

They were the easiest, truest words he had ever spoken.

"I love you."

--

The comm room had emptied the moment Dazai had said he needed to use the manual override.

Whatever it was out of—deference, respect, early celebration—Chuuya cared very little. He listened to Dazai's words with numbness coursing through him, shaking over the dashboard in a way that couldn't be caused by pain and tremors alone. It was a distant sort of ache. Like standing at the very edge of realization and refusing to look, knowing that only a precipice stood on the other side.

Chuuya would've welcomed the pain tenfold, welcomed the constant trembling of his limbs with open hands and an open heart, instead of feeling the way he did now.

"I love you," Dazai said, and Chuuya's heart split open and bled.

"No," he replied. He dropped his cane to lean over the desk and pressed the mic against his lips, as if he could slither his soul through to where Dazai was and scream it in his face instead—"No. Not like this."

Not like this. Never like this.

But Dazai didn't listen. He didn't stop. He laughed over line, the sound of it faint, not enough to breathe sunlight though Chuuya's chest as it had so many times before.

"I love you so much," Dazai repeated, bright with absolute honesty. "I never thought it was possible to love someone like that."

Chuuya keeled over the desk, legs giving out, falling to his knees. Even the pain of hitting the floor wasn't enough to gap the hole that loss was already digging in him. His eyes burned without end, wet tears trailing hotly over his face, and his leg was nothing at all against the fire crawling up his neck.

"Please," he rasped out. "Please, don't—"

His throat closed up before he could finish.

Dazai's voice was gentle and open, a voice Chuuya had craved to hear again for years without allowing himself to."We both figured it out the first time we drifted, didn't we?"

Chuuya closed his eyes, and wept, and grieved.

Dazai went on, unhurried, smoothing over the countdown that had started ringing on the biggest of the screens. A balm and an open flame both. Speaking of a love greater than they both felt the right to.

Chuuya didn't need his words to think again what he had thought at eighteen—opening his soul to that of a stranger, wary and angry and then full of wonder. Like finding the last piece of a long-forgotten puzzle. Like opening his eyes and realizing what he had thought to be green was blue, what he had thought to be true was a lie all along.

He remembered understanding that he had been living wounded; he remembered what it was like not to feel pain for the first time.

Hello, they both thought, then and now. Dazai smiling, Chuuya wrecked with sobs. It's so good to meet you.

I've been waiting for you my whole life.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," Dazai said with endless truth on his voice. "I wouldn't change anything. If I could do it again, have a different life, I'd just end up running to you all over again. I don't think I'm capable of living any other way. I'm getting in the pod now, but…"

Fifty seconds to core meltdown, the countdown said.

Impossible odds.

"Chuuya," Dazai murmured. "Thank you for existing in my lifetime."

Chuuya curled in on himself until his forehead touched the floor. His leg screamed from supporting his weight, his body thrummed with pain from the memory of being ripped apart—and he thought he would take it all, that and the agony of recovery, take it all over again thousands and thousands of times, so he wouldn't have to suffer through having to speak what he must.

"I love you too," he cried, lips pressed onto the mic. His chest heaved, every breath loud and bruising, and his tongue seared with each word as if they were his last. "Of course I do."

This time, Dazai's laughter felt warm. It ran liquid through Chuuya's veins. It settled in Chuuya's heart as if drawn in by the piece of his soul that had never left at all.

The line died when Dazai's pod flew out of the jaeger's body.

Chuuya counted every second between then and the destruction of the breach. The three-dimension model of it that sat on Alcott's desk crumbled into light dust, and he heard cheers and howls through the closed doors of the room, from where everyone had gathered to watch the world be freed. He didn't move.

He counted the seconds, chest hollowed out and lungs empty. Kneeling paralyzed on the floor of the deserted room. There was no room left for anything but grief, no space between ribs for something like a heart; Chuuya heaved, fractured time slipping out of his grasp, the raw edges of the drift seeping blood once again.

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[friendlyunclej]

An Inventor’s Merit

Prologue      My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a barmaid. My father taught me the value of steel work the moment I was able to carry a hammer, while my mother taught me how to properly deal with people. When I wasn’t pounding away at steel alongside my father, I was seated on a stool at the bar where my mother worked. Day in and day out, I would watch my mother argue with troublesome customers and joke with the kinder souls that wandered in. Sometimes, she’d even console a few broken hearts who would feverishly try to wash away their sorrows in casks of ale, fire water, whiskey, plain water, and, in some extreme cases, a blade which they were too drunk to use properly. Whenever one of the suicidal drunks pulled a weapon, my mother was always the first one to act, usually resulting in scars which never disappeared. Despite the fresh scars, she’d always spend the next few hours talking them down, consoling them until she felt they were safe from themselves. To this day, I’m almost certain that she’s saved more people just by talking than I ever have fighting.      When my mother was working and the bartender had some time, he’d take the chance to talk to me. He was a generous old Halfling who had grown up on a farm and decided to become a bartender once he was able to leave his family’s farm in safe hands. Despite him being a man of almost entirely white hair with some grey the color of clouds at its lightest, he was probably the most lively person in the whole village. He’d always tell me about how his farm was almost always being attacked by orcs and wild animals back in the day. He’d stress about just how much life would have been easier if he had a weapon with the power of a warhammer and the range of a longbow to protect him while he tended to the crops. My father was having me study cannons around the time the bartender mentioned that to me. I believe I was about ten years old when I got the idea to try to design a cannon which someone could hold in a single hand. I never would have guessed that the contraption I was creating would get me noticed by anyone significant, least of all the High Elves in Draturi City.      By the age of 12, I had created my first firearm. I made it with a revolving mechanism that held a projectile and black powder in each of its five cylinders which aligned with a centered barrel. As with any new invention, a proper test was in order. My first firearm was an absolute mess. Whenever I held the gun off center by any angle, the black powder would spill out without me noticing. Whenever I’d try to fire them, a soft flash would come while the projectile sadly rolled out the barrel with no real force behind it. After I remedied that issue, I found that I would pack too much black powder, resulting in an explosion violent enough to set off all five shots at once and sear my hand. One problem lead to another, which lead to another, and continued to lead to another for six months until I finally made it functional enough to demonstrate to my fellow citizens during an annual festival. I showed off my weapon to a small crowd at first, but it quickly grew as more and more were impressed by what many called my “Hand Cannon”. Little did I know that there was a High Elven Baron watching. After three years of negotiations and another year to find proper caretakers, that same Baron and about five of his guards escorted me and my parents to Draturi City. I was to continue building my “hand cannons” for the Draturi soldiers to use in what many people were claiming to be a “War For Baicia”. After a year or two there, I found myself joining the war effort, keeping my invention to myself and using it to help my own friends and I return home. I never expected to use it as awfully as I did.

My Worst Mistake      I had joined the “War For Baicia”, or “The Great War” or “The War to Split the World” or whatever you wish to call it, at the request of the woman I love. Honestly, it was only a matter of time before I joined the war effort anyway. With what I had created, it was either I join the front and keep it to myself or be chained to my workstation as High Elven guards poked, prodded, and rushed me to create enough firearms for their whole army. I opted for the front, seeing as how I’d at least be able to keep some remnants details of my weapons privy while also being able to protect the woman I love and hopefully keep her brother in check. We had even got put on a team alongside a middle-aged Dwarven couple who made great allies and even greater company. The woman was a Hill Dwarf by the name of “Kiera” and she was a Cleric who worshiped the All-Mother with cooking skills that could have started a school if she was so inclined to. Her husband was a Mountain Dwarf by the name of “Bertram” who could tell a joke which could split your side open while beating a demon triple his size into submission. We became a family, despite the awful circumstances. Their light almost made some of the darkest memories disappear for a moment after the war...almost.       By the time we were put on our first mission together, the war was getting darker by the hour. We were sent on missions where we’d be away from a comfortable bed and proper drinks for months at a time in some cases. Many of our birthdays were celebrated face down in mud as we tried our best not to be spotted by droves of Dragonborn and Yuan-Ti. We would be sent to kill high ranking officials, sabotage weaponry and armor, poison rations, and even rescue prisoners. We’d always come back as the five of us with the satisfaction of knowing that what we’ve done saved others, hopefully saved a a few from the other side as well. None of us cared for the war as we all just truly wanted to be home again, drinking side by side and laughing so hard that our sides would cramp so often that it would feel foreign for us not to be bent over in a joyous pain, holding them. Unfortunately, that seemed increasingly distant as children began to fill ranks of both sides of the war. We were livid about this choice, furiously arguing with higher authorities about the unethical use of children to fight a war that not even grown adults want to be a part of anymore. None listened and, soon enough, we found ourselves forced to go on a rescue mission for close to seven children who were captured by Drow Elves who turned into traitors.      The war had moved to the continent of Yi’Mav, making the battlefield unknown to both sides. Despite spending close to a year in its dense forests, lush bogs, and scenic mountains, it always seemed to change unexpectedly and morph to become new. There were stories from fellow squads and even a few prisoners about some people vanishing into thin air, half of the stories saying that they never returned and the other half saying that they returned as “empty vessels”. Apparently, some Drow Elves, with help from Dwarven prisoners and a few monstrosities from Serhya, made a bit of a home in one of the mountain ranges hidden by vines and trees which stretched almost to the clouds above our heads. Kiera, Bertram, Volsen, Antinua, and I trekked for months to the location of the prisoners, lead by a human kid who had barely escaped.      We neared the prison around nightfall and took the next few days to study their guards for a proper opening to sneak in. After a plan was devised and agreed upon, we decided to sleep for the night and wake up before dawn. We properly hid our camp and ourselves before sleeping. Unfortunately, we weren’t hidden well enough as we all awoke in rope and metal binds, staring at the starry sky as we were dragged feet first into the prison. The child’s screams were the loudest while the rest of us tried to plan as calmly as possible.      We were tortured for weeks it seems. If there’s one thing that any person could count on a Drow for, it’s torture. I don’t know if it’s the Underdark or Drow Elves specifically, but they know how to draw out a prisoner’s life so the suffering can last as long as possible. They made us all scream at one point or another. I even saw a red flash in Volsen’s eyes from time to time, but he always managed to suppress it because the kid was chained to him. Our screams always turned into pleading once the kid began to scream. The Drows seemed to enjoy torturing the kid the most out of all of us, seeing as how we all cried for it to stop whenever they switched over to her. It wasn’t until the Drow who was in charge of the torture got bored that the situation turned worse than we could ever imagine.      The Drow who practically acted as a prison warden got bored one day, and wanted to see one of us squirm. However, she knew that we didn’t care what happened to us. We were all more worried about the child. She walked into our dungeon room at the beginning of the day with a sick grin on her face.      “So, you’ve been here for weeks and my men tell me that none of you are giving up any information about the locations of your allies and their strength. You know what that tells me?” she paused as she strolled into the room. “That tells me that I need to put a personal touch on this,” she told us as she sauntered from one side of the room to the other, eyeing each of us tied and hanging on the wall.      Her eyes locked with Volsen’s gaze as she jaunted towards him, saying, “And you seem like you have a darkness in you. I’d love to see if you do.”      She brushed the bottom of his chin as she told her guards to unchain the child while she said, “Would you like to show me, Pale Elf?”      Volsen jerked his chin away from her hand and cursed her in Elvish. She chortled as she exclaimed, “That’s a ‘yes’ if I’ve ever heard one! Take him down from the wall as well but keep his bonds on him. I don’t want him getting too rough too early. Place the child on its knees. Oh, and uh...hand me one of those great axes from the storage.”      Volsen headbutted one of the guards who took him off the wall before being slammed in the lower back by a maul. He grunted in anger as burst back on to his feet to continue fighting before the Drow stopped him.     “Tsk, tsk, tsk...” she clicked at him, holding a blade across the child’s throat. “Play nice and I won’t kill this filthy thing,” she continued, stroking the child’s head like a pet.      Volsen controlled himself and backed off as he asked, “What do you want?”      She gave another disturbing grin as she tossed him a great axe, saying, “I want you to kill this child.”      Volsen simply stepped to the side and let the axe clank against the stone floor as he simply said, “No. I won’t take a child’s life for your sick satisfaction, Drow.”      Playfully pouting, she said, “Awww...well, in that case, I’ll need another life then,” as she motioned to one of her men.      Bertram screamed in pain as a maul shattered his right elbow against the wall, leaving him hanging from a shattered arm.      Volsen screamed, “What do you think you’re doing? Kill me instead, leave them out of this.”      She replied, “Oh, no. I saw something in you that made me interested. Them? They’re boring. If getting that darkness out of you means the lives of a few useless Dwarves and some mundane Elves, well, I’ve killed for less,” as she motioned to the guard again.      This time, Kiera’s voice cried out in agony as the guard drove a spear through her right hip, pinning her against the wall.      Antinua wailed, “This violence isn’t needed, you hag! What are you even gaining from this?”      Without even acknowledging her, the Drow motioned to the guard and said, “Please, do something about that thing’s tongue. It seems like she no longer wants it.”      As the guard passed by me, I spit on him and spouted in Elvish, “You touch her, I’ll be sure to feed you your whore boss, you understand me?”      The guard ran me through with his longsword. I roared in pain as he leaned next to my ear and whispered in Elvish, “You disrespect the Priestess again, and I will take your tongue, worm!”      I headbutted him so hard that he flew back, leaving the longsword in me and the stone behind me. I chuckled as he rushed back up with a dagger pressed against my throat, snarling in anger as blood ran down his nose like a fountain.      With a pleasantly surprised expression, the Drow said, “Hold you dagger! Obviously, he has a fire as well, but it seems to burn for the lady. Give her the dagger instead, my dear.”      The guard chuckled menacingly as he threw the dagger into Antinua’s thigh. She grimaced in pain and I struggled furiously against my bonds and the sword still in my gut, spitting up blood the more I struggled.      Volsen, in a fit of desperation, screamed out, “Wait! I’ll kill the child!”      The Drow’s eyes widened in excitement as the child cried more in fear. She walked away from the child, leaving her in the arms of another guard, and picked up the great axe behind Volsen. She walked back to him and placed the axe firmly in his grasp as she smiled at him, waiting.      Shaking in frustration and disbelief at his own words, Volsen solemnly made his way over to the child, who was now furiously struggling against the guard and begging Volsen to not do it.      Bertram screamed out, “Volsen! She’s a child! We signed up for this, not her! We can take the injuries. You don’t need to do this!”      Kiera pleaded, “Volsen, I know things look dire, but we can make it out of this. All we need is a bit more time to figure a way out. She doesn’t need to die!”      Struggling for breath, I said, “Brother, stay in control. We’ve been through worse. We’re all going to be fine, especially Ant. We can make it through whatever these demon Elves have planned for us. That kid doesn’t need to die.”      After a yelp from the knife being jerked out of her thigh and it now being held firmly against her neck, Antinua said, “Volsen, we’ve been doing all of this to save others and each other this entire time. Not to kill children. Whatever she thinks is in you, it isn’t their. You’re a good person, Volsen.”      Volsen’s trembling stopped for a moment after hearing his sister call out. However, he didn’t turn around as he said, “No, I’m not,” as he swung the axe in a wide arc around him.      The axe swing took off the head of the guard restraining the girl. He followed the swing around and gave a nasty gash across the Drow Priestess’ midsection, knocking her to the floor. The guard by Antinua dropped his dagger as he rushed to his Priestess’ side.      Exhausted and in immense pain, Volsen dropped to his knees with the momentum of the swing. With the momentary distraction, I used all the strength I had to force one of the loose spike holding the chains around my right hand to the wall free and tore the longsword out of my gut. Using my newfound adrenaline, I cut one of Antinua’s bonds while the guard helped the Drow to her feet. They rushed to the beheaded guard’s corpse to take the keys off of him. The child was still stunned by what she had seen and forgot to move away from the body.      “Well, that wasn’t very nice,” the Drow spouted as she picked the keys off of the guard’s corpse, “Just know that what’s about to happen is your fault, High Elf!”      With that last sentence, she pulled a dagger off of the guard’s corpse and swung at the child, splitting her throat open. A crimson splash scored Volsen’s face, who was still trying to catch his breath after exhausting himself with the great axe. He screamed as the Drow and her guard ran out of the room while he tried to scramble for some way to save the child.      Hacking away at my own chains, I bellowed, “Volsen! Grab the axe and cut Kiera down. She may be able to save her.”      Volsen, now trembling again, snapped his vision to me as he heard my request. He desperately forced himself on to his feet and limped over to Kiera, hacking away her chains with the great axe and taking the spear out of her. She wobbled to the child, now lying in a pool of blood with her eyes darting around terrified.      Kiera called out to the All-Mother for the strength to save the child. The goddess seemed to answer for a moment, but it was a few seconds too late. The warmth and glow of the All-Mother enveloped the child, but no life returned to the body.      As Volsen finished destroying the rest of our restraints, he rushed over to Kiera, asking, “What’s wrong? Why isn’t she awake?”      Kiera answered, “I don’t know. She should have returned. Revivify should have brought her back, but she’s just not returning.”      With desperation in his eyes, Volsen’s voice cracked as he said, “N-No, you have to save her! You all said we would be able to save her! You have to save her, Kiera, please!”      With tears in her eyes, Kiera says, “I’m trying, Volsen! Can’t you see that! She just doesn’t seem to want to come back. Bertram, do you have a health potion left?”      Without hesitation, Bertram rushed over and reached into his right pocket with his left arm, wincing at the pain from his mangled right arm. He popped the cork and drenched the child’s neck with the health potion he hid. The neck sealed with no trace of injury and Kiera tried again, still to no success.      I was using some rags to bandage up Antinua’s leg and my side when I saw Volsen furiously pacing the room. I chugged a spare health potion and tossed Bertram the two others I hid.      I called out, “Volsen, I know what you’re thinking and I’m asking you not to, for the sake of all of us.”      Volsen, no responding, asked Kiera, “Is there any change?”      Kiera, wiping away her own tears, yelled back, “No! Nothing! The damn child doesn’t want to come back. I’m trying everything!”      Antinua, now finishing a health potion herself, called out, “Brother, calm down! That hag will pay but we need to rest a bit before we go after her.”      Now stationary and seething with anger, Volsen let out a rabid scream as he began to hack away at the locked door of the chamber we were in.      Kiera placed some healing on Bertram to fix his arm properly while he called to Volsen, saying, “Give us an hour and we’ll tear this entire prison apart together, Volsen. We can’t follow you in this condition. We don’t even have our weapons!”      His warning fell on deaf ears as Volsen continued to hack away at the door until it shattered to pieces in front of him. Antinua and I both called out, “Brother!” as he took a step out of the shattered door. He paused for a second and waited for us to say something else. I huffed and said, “we’ll be following you soon,” as he bolted off to find the Drow Priestess and her guard. I went to the chest I had seen them place our weapons into and tried to hack the lock off. Still a bit weak, Antinua came up behind me after my first two failed attempts and simply stomped the lock off with a furious cry.      She said, “We’re wasting too much time. We’ve got to save him again.”      Kiera, without taking focus off of the child, said, “I’m not giving up on this kid. You two go get Volsen. We’ll be safe here.”      Bertram spoke up with, “Be safe and show no mercy. These bastards don’t deserve it. Once the kid returns to us, we’ll try out best to find the other prisoners and then meet up with you at the entrance where they dragged us past.”      I said, “Agreed, but don’t either of you die on us. I’d hate to have to escape from the Nine Hells as well after saving you.”      Kiera and Bertram both chuckled a bit as they said, “Likewise.”      Ant and I rushed out the door, following the streaks of blood and line bodies through the corridors of the prison as we ran after Volsen. We readily killed anyone left alive in his wake while fixing our armor and weapons appropriately. We made our way to a wide open foyer filled with dozens of enemies, over half of which were already slaughtered. The rest were all focused on a figure in the center, furiously roaring and cutting them to shreds. It was Volsen at the center of the group, skewered by countless weapons which were still hanging freely within his back and chest.      Antinua and I blasted the ten archers raining arrows down on him with ease. Each gunshot echoed in the enormous cave we were in, but the resounding crack of thunder that came from my firearms paled in comparison to Volsen’s roars and his victims’ screams. We began clearing some of the soldiers attacking Volsen when we saw just what kind of dire straits he was truly in. It seemed he had dropped the great axe a while back as he began pulling axes, swords, and spears out of his own back to kill our enemies with. When the battle was over, all of the weapons that were stuck to him were now embedded in a fresh corpse. He fell to his knees as he struggled to breathe. Barely able to breathe without trickles of blood spewing from his countless wounds, he noticed one last person trying to crawl away.      Strenuously gathering himself one last time, Volsen returned to his feat and pulled an axe out of a corpse at his feet as he tiredly dragged his own body to the man. It was the guard from before, but the Drow Priestess was nowhere to be found. As Volsen got to him, he had exhausted the entirety of his rage, but there was still red in his eyes. He fell on the guard as he dug the axe into the man’s right leg. The guard screamed in agony as Volsen dragged him back. Now lying face up and grimacing in pain with a broken left arm and ruined right leg, the guard looked up at Volsen as Antinua and I stood behind him.      Volsen asked, “What kind of a person kills a child?”      The guard chuckled as he said, “Apparently, you, Pale Skin.”      Antinua made vines burst from the ground next to his head and wrap around his neck as she said, “I wouldn’t be laughing now that you’re the one at our mercy.”      I asked, “Where did your Priestess go?”      The guard laughed again, this time strained due to the vines constricting his neck. He answered, “Safe from things that likes of you. You’ll never catch her, but, should she want to later, she’ll be able to destroy each of your lives. I would love to see that.”      I said, “I bet you would,” as I let loose a shot which landed under his right eye and splattered what little brains he had across the stones he was lying on.      All of us panting heavily, Ant and I asked Volsen in unison, “Can you walk?”      Volsen chuckled a bit as he said, “I don’t think so,” as he pointed at the bone protruding from his right calf.      I sheathed the longsword I had and picked up his right side while Ant picked up his left side. Thanks to Volsen’s rampage, there was no enemies left alive to stop us, or try to. Those that tried to stop us, I simply shot to death or Antinua used a Thorn Whip to kill them if she didn’t use Poison Spray. We arrived at the entrance to find Kiera and Bertram watching over about 12 people, excluding the three dead guards. We laid Volsen’s body next to the girl who brought us here.      Looking desperately at the child, Volsen began to say, “Is she sti-”      Kiera, cutting him off, said, “No, she’s alive. Just resting. She actually wanted to go back for you guys after she showed us where the prisoners were held.”      Volsen released a heavy sigh of relief as he said, “Oh, thank the gods. Well, in that case, anyone able to plug all of the holes I’m still bleeding from. I’m starting to get lightheaded.”      On the long trek back, Volsen was constantly haunted, blaming himself for getting the girl killed despite her forgiving him. Ant grew close to the girl instead, showing her tricks with certain Druid spells. The girl seemed disinterested in my weapons, which I honestly couldn’t blame her for that. Druid spells are pretty beautiful, after all.      Despite what we went through in the Drow’s dungeon, we had still saved lives. For Bertram and Kiera, that was plenty enough. Antinua found the one girl we saved as the saving grace of the mission for her. Volsen never talked about it after, or at least tried his best not to. As for me, it’s still probably my worst mistake, letting my guard down for too long or not noticing something which I should have. It’s great that we saved a good number of lives, especially our own, but I still can’t shake the thought that it would have gone better if I had done better. What’s worse is the fact that the war still isn’t over and that I’ve seen our own allies take children prisoner as well.

Epilogue      After the war, we all stayed together as a roaming family, in a way. We worked a few odd jobs to keep gold on hand. Old allies and old enemies created factions within the world. My family and I joined a few for a bit before eventually leaving together. Over a century after the “Great War for the Heart of Yi’Mav” ended, we decided to settle down in a growing town in the forest. With the town of C’Moira now under our protection, I thought the world could only get better. Antinua gave birth to a beautiful daughter after we got married, which we happily parented for 9 years. Volsen stopped trembling for a time, especially after seeing his niece born. Bertram and Kiera opened a tavern, where Bertram tended the bar while Kiera cooked the meals and both kept good care of the rooms they offered paying travelers. The hardships seemed to all be in the past. Unfortunately, the gods had a different plan for me.      Of all the things to break me, I never would’ve thought that Orcs would have had a hand in it. I had faced Undead nightmares, cannibalistic Dragonborns, sadistic Drow Elves and even Demons from the Nine Hells personally seeking a chance to take away everything I hold dear. Instead, it was greyish-green skinned oafs with a hooded figure pulling the strings that turned my entire world into a swirling tornado of regret, anger, self loathing, and a recurring death wish. I drown myself in ale now more than ever, trying desperately to keep those that I’ve lost out of my mind. After I lost Antinua and Val, I couldn’t get that hooded figure out of my mind. Volsen wanted nothing to do with me, and I couldn’t blame him. I was supposed to protect them and they both died in my arms. Since then, I’ve been hunting hooded figures all across the forests of Kalldor. I’ve watched them burn down entire villages and kill countless families absent remorse. These things work either in entire towns worth of each other, or just a single one leading an entire horde of separate underlings. Unfortunately, just as a single gunslinger, I couldn’t do much except clean up after them. Maybe that’s why I shared my secrets with a Half-Elf boy I saw survive the massacre of his village.      I don’t know what the kid’s going to be like later. He could cause the death of a thousand innocent lives or save millions by taking a fraction of lives I have. Either way, I passed my knowledge on to him within a month. What he does with it is his business. I would have spent longer, but, with what I have planned, I can’t be getting attached again. Maybe I already had and that’s why I gave him my hat and the pistol I’ve had since the beginning. Perhaps, if I had the courage to, I would have taken him in and I would have tried to raise him as my own. Sad fact is that I just wouldn’t be able to handle it. With everything I have, I hope he’ll turn out better. I’m sure I’ll meet Hawke again someday, if I’m not already dead. Maybe then we can share a pint of ale. Or maybe he’ll shoot me on sight. I’d be fine with either at this point.

[special-agent-fiction]

Hoist The Colours

One-Shot, Prequel to COTB - Jack Sparrow x OFC

The plan had been to sail the Caribbean together until they the deck of their beloved Wicked Wench splintered beneath their feet from old age. But the Wench had splintered early and now Jack was out for blood; he'd summon the Pirate Lords himself if it meant getting Her out of Beckett's clutches and back at his side, where she belonged.

The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed, And bound her in her bones. The seas be ours and by the powers, Where we will, we'll roam.

Yo, Ho, haul together, hoist the colours high, Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.

Now some have died and some are alive, And others sail on sea. With the keys to the cage, and a Queen to save, We lay to Fiddler's Green.

Yo, Ho, haul together, hoist the colours high, Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.

The pearl has been raised, from its watery grave Its Captain searches the seas. A call to all; pay heed the squall, Let it blow you home.

Yo, Ho, haul together, hoist the colours high, Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.

The King and his men, stole the Queen from her bed, And bound her in her bones. The seas rose up to take her back, And sat her on her throne.

The rope was burning the once soft palm of her hand as she used it to lean over the side of the ship she was currently stood on. The water was awash with debris from the decks of both ships as cannons blazed back and forth between them with men on both sides running to-and-fro securing cargo and reloading cannons.

This conflict had been on the cards for days and it had only been a matter of time until the ship that had stayed largely on the horizon came into full view and started firing on them.

There was little chance they’d all walk away from this but she didn’t care; her only concern was for the row-boat that had departed from them yesterday and whether or not it had reached safety.

“They’re blowing us to smithereens, Captain!” She turned from the enemy ship to glance down to her first mate and the terror in his eyes. “What do we do?!”

“Give ‘em everything we’ve got!” She called down to him, her hair whipping about behind her as another blow rocked them all. “Jones!” She shouted for the man again as he turned to scurry away. “Our masts are looking a little bare up there.” She nodded upwards. “Let’s make sure they remember who holds this ship.”

He flashed her a grin before turning and striding to the front of the helmsman’s station and bellowing down to the crew.

“Hoist the colours!”

The black flag inching its way up towards the azure sky above them was one of the most glorious sights she’d ever seen and clearly her opposing Captain agreed judging by the increased curses resonating over to her.

The cannons were giving them all they had and she’d never been more proud of her crew; they were all going to die here and they knew it but not one had abandoned ship. This was a cause they would all fight for; the East India Trading Company be dammed.

She winced as a particularly nasty hole was suddenly blown into the side of them and wondered how much longer they were going to be able to hold out until water began pouring in and dragging them down.

Just a little longer. She urged the wood beneath her feet. C’mon girl; just long enough for him to get away.

The ship seemed to respond to her as a cacophony of cannon fire rang out and the opposite ship almost toppled. They recovered quick enough through and the sight that greeted her was enough to make her want to vomit over the side.

“Ready the wat-” The order died on her tongue as a single flaming arrow soared across the small gap of water and embedded into their main sail; its tip dragging all the way through, spreading the fire until it hit the deck with a clunk.

The flames were everywhere in a mere heartbeat.

The sails were being ravaged and fire slithered down the rigging as it spread across the ship. The deck was now bursting apart with screams and the scent of burning flesh reaching her.

The arrow had done its job and the distraction it had caused was enough for a few well-placed shots to breach them completely. They were lurching and there was little she could do to stop it.

The rope slipped from her fingers as another shot sent the ship shuddering and then she was falling, falling from her ledge and into the waters below; limbs splayed as her beloved ship was gradually being consumed with fire.

She hit the water with a back-cracking thud and her last sight was of a ship turning to spill its contents on the other side of the ocean. Everything was too warm as she sank further into the depths of the sea she had never believed would betray her in this way. Her eyes flickered closed as the underwater pressure consumed her.

And with that, the Wicked Wench was lost.

Memories of hands wrapping roughly around the tops of her arms and dragging her from the depths she had sunk to, were fuzzy. But, as her eyes fought against the crusted flecks of salt coating her face, she knew they had to have happened.

The cell she’d been slung into was dismal to say the least. A single lantern hung opposite her bars and cast only a mere shadow of light into the square room, though no light would have surely been preferable as when her eyes finally snapped fully open, all that surrounded her was a dusting of straw acting as a carpet and a threadbare mattress which she promptly recoiled from once she realised that it wasn’t a shadow under her cheek, but a stain.

The salt had dried on her skin and was now tearing her apart with every move as she scrambled from the scrap of fabric and curled into herself on the opposite wall. Her hair continued to drip down her back, further soaking the flimsy white shirt that had been so good at keeping her cool in the baking heat on deck but was now chilling her to her bones thanks to the sliver of wind smoking its way through the cracks in the walls.

She let her eyes flicker back closed as a whirlwind of memories bombarded her all at once. She could still smell the plumes of smoke rising up from the alight sails of her beloved Wicked Wench. Another shiver rolled down her spine as she realised that she was likely the only survivor.

Head bowed in prayer, she whispered a thanks to all the men now at the bottom of the ocean for their sacrifice before whispering a plea for the safety of their departed leader – god, she hoped he’d made it.

She let a small sniffle escape her before resting her head back against the wall and letting her eyes flicker closed in a desperate attempt to escape this dreary cell and her likely execution if only through her dreams.

They say that Shipwreck Island is one of those places that’s very hard to find, unless you know exactly where it is. With no fixed plot on any map, the secret isle was a guaranteed safe-haven for all who sailed under a jolly-roger.

But, to those who were more than mere residents on the island; those who knew the twists and turns of the Devil’s Throat and the wonder that the long-dead volcano at the heart of the island held, it was the epicentre of piracy itself.

“Takes my breath away every time.”

She hummed her agreement; eyes fixed on the magnificence at the centre of the secret cove high above sea level. The wrecked hulls of long retired ships was a glowing, living mass as they sailed through the mouth of the Devil’s Throat and towards the ships docking at the hidden city.

“C’mon love.” Jack nudged her as she once again lost herself in the beauty before them. “Thought you’d be more excited to come home.”

A slow smile stretched across her lips as his words: home. While many called the island itself home, only a handful could lay claim to the cove.

“I am.” She assured him. “But I’m far more concerned about what my father will say when he sees us sailing in together.”

“He doesn’t scare me.” He promised, a hand sneaking around her back to pull her closer.

“He should.” She whispered, laughter dancing in her eyes as her hands slid up his chest to rest either side of his neck. “Because he’ll definitely take your breath away.” Thumbs either side of his Adam’s Apple as she splayed her hands around his throat, she emphasised her point with a light squeeze.

“I’d like to see him try.” He pried her hands away with his spare and gave her a dashing grin. “After all…” He let his hand drag up and down the soft cotton sleeve of her shirt. “…you can’t steal what is already stolen every time I look at you.”

“That’s a sickening sentiment.” She told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping out of his arms and turning back to the fast approaching city.

“You know, you’re just like an oyster.”

“Cold, hard and grey?” She snorted. “How charming, Sparrow.”

“You hide yourself under this shell; afraid to show vulnerability.” He said, waving a hand at her as she wrapped her arms around herself and refused to meet his eye. “Because inside…” He leant closer, his breath tingling as it blew across the column of her throat. “…there’s a shiny pearl needing protection.”

“I assure you, Jack…” She turned her head slightly to meet his eye. “…if there is a pearl hiding under all of this…” She leant in and whispered. “…it’s most definitely a black one.”

“That it is my sweet.” He agreed, pride clear in his voice. “And I am proud to have played a part in its sullying.” His hand curled at her hip again as they stood side by side on the bow of the Wicked Wench.

“I think simply growing up here played a bigger part than you did, Sparrow.”

“Ay, but there’s one thing I can do that the cove can’t.”

“Which is?”

“Piss off your father.”

He gave her no time to reply as his hands turned her fully towards him and pulled her into a searing kiss just as their anchor dropped and the ship docked with her waiting father scowling on the makeshift dock.

“He’s going to kill you.” She whispered against his lips before breaking into a laugh as he did further damage to his tumultuous relationship with Captain Harrier by dropping her into a dip and stealing another kiss.

There were hands on her again; shaking her awake as she was hoisted from the damp floor and forced to kneel with her arms outstretched. Her indignant cried were ignored as red-coats blocked her view and a pair of manacles were clamped around her wrists. It was only when they were fully secure was she hauled up to her feet and forced from the cell.

“Where are we going?” She ground out as she was pushed forward through the dungeon of cells and around corner after corner. “I said: where are we going?” She growled at the British soldiers; their stoic faces doing their King proud as they led her up through the layers of the dungeons. “Are you all deaf?”

“The Director wants to see you.”

“Director?” She asked, swallowing a curse as she was nudged up a set of stone stairs and almost tumbled into the pair of red-coats at her front. “Such a strange way to source actors for a play; destroying ships and drowning a crew.”

“Not that type of director.” A red-coat at her back drawled.

“Pity.” She sighed as they reached the entrance to the dungeon and she was thrust into daylight and forced to cross the stone courtyard of the fort. “I do a magnificent Juliet.”

She fell silent as they re-entered the fort and moved through its labyrinth of corridors until they reached a set of particularly opulent doors.

The red-coats in front separated to open the doors and with a quick nudge from behind, she entered the room.

“Apparently you put up quite the fight.”

Her eyes snapped from the tables of trinkets that filled the room and settled on a figure stood behind a hulking desk; arms folded behind his back as he stared out to the ocean. She felt her stomach roll at the voice of the man she had being doing her utmost to out-sail since his arrival in the Bahamas.

“I can’t take all the credit.” She replied, swallowing any nerves and letting her manacles clang as she stepped further into the room, eyeing a few items that would no doubt bring a small fortune when sold on. “My crew were magnificent.”

“And yet, not magnificent enough to save their lives.”

“Maybe if they’d been given a fair chance…”  The man laughed. “A flaming arrow was cheating and we both know it.”

“But it did its job and now the Wicked Wench is little more than a pile of ashes floating on the waves.”

“You always have been the type to carry a grudge, Beckett.” He turned to fully face her at the sound of his name; the endless blue behind him framing his opulent clothes. “Pity you couldn’t reach us in time to claim your actual target.”

“Yes, my men did report that Jack wasn’t among the crew; congratulations on the promotion, Captain Harrier.” She offered a mock curtsey at his words. “Tell me where he is and I promise your execution will be quick.”

“I’ll take slow and painful, thanks; at least it’ll be memorable.”

“Where is Jack Sparrow?”  She shrugged and turned to the map covering an entire wall of the office; squinting at the small flags adorning it. “Where is he?” Beckett asked again, slamming his hands onto the surface of the desk as she shrugged again. “I will have you flogged.”

“I don’t care.”

He let out a low growl at her indifference and she watched from the corner of her eyes as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Then I will steal you from your bed every night and bombard you with questions until you crumple from exhaustion.”

“Wasn’t sinking the Wench enough?” She spat. “Wasn’t killing all those men enough for you?”

“Jack Sparrow is a thief; he deserves to be punished.”

“They. Were. People.” She ground out; rage filling her as memories of finding men, women and children chained up below the deck of Jack’s beloved ship. “If anyone deserves to be punished it’s you. All we did was set them free.”

“Jack Sparrow stole from me; my cargo, my ship and my good name.” Beckett rounded the desk to stand in front of her; eye to eye. “And so, I intend to steal from him.”

“You already sank-”

“He calls you his Queen, does he not?” Her spine stiffened and her chin lifted as he smirked at her. “News will reach him wherever he is, and I will take pleasure in knowing that I have stolen his most treasured possession…you.”

She couldn’t breathe. Every intake of air she took was met with a steel trap preventing it from reaching her lungs.

“Just a little tighter, Miss, and you’ll be perfect.”

She let out a whimper at the words and dug her nails deeper into the chair back she was holding onto for dear life as two women wrestled her into the most restricting corset Beckett had presented to her.

“How does that feel, Miss?”

She straightened, or at least tried to, and ran her hands down the sides of her boned figure. She sneered at the sight of her impossibly small waist in the floor length mirror; it was sick that this torture device was considered not only fashionable but a necessity for every woman in ‘civilised society’. Give her breeches and one of Jack’s old shirts any day.

“You’ll look just like a princess with that waist.”

All she could do was nod to the women as they scuttled off to collect the next layer of her outfit.

She’d been Cutler Beckett’s prisoner for almost a fortnight now and ever since their reunion in his office overlooking the bay of Nassau, everyday had been the same; wake, have lungs restricted in the latest boned cage, try and figure out how to move in a horrendously petticoated dress and then try ignore the two guards constantly at her back as Beckett paraded her around as his newest trophy.

“The East India Trading Company will revolutionise the Caribbean and with a known pirate, who has sought my forgiveness for her wrongdoings and pleaded for a second chance, at my side; there’ll be no stopping me.”

News had to have reached Jack by now, wherever he was, and she just hoped to God that he would stay away from here and get back to the cove where he can lay low for a while. But she knew better, and Beckett knew better so with every shift of the wind she begged whatever cruel God that watched over them to detain Jack for as long as possible.

“Director Beckett had this made specifically for you, Miss.” Eyes fixed on the horizon she hadn’t even noticed the women return. “You’ll be the talk of the Caribbean in this.”

The layers of frills and unnecessary skirts were on her in an instant with the dress’ three-quarter length sleeves encasing her arms in silks dotted with pearls. The women kept ‘ohhing’ and ‘ahhing’ as each new design element was revealed to them but she couldn’t focus on any of it, couldn’t give her usual nod of agreement because her prayers had not been answered; for breaking the horizon was ship with no naval marking on it and a figure practically hanging from the main mast as it stood high above the decks among the sails.

She didn’t know the ship; didn’t recognise the dark wood or the dyed sails, but she knew that figure; knew the pose and the steely determination that would be in his eyes as they settled on the white mansion high above the bustling port town.

“I hope I’ll look as pretty as you when my time comes, Miss.”

“Hmm.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him; her heart was thumping uncontrollably as her corset continued to constrict her and fear gripped every bone in her body. She wanted to knock him off that mast and force the ship around – he couldn’t be here; Beckett would kill him.

“You’re so lucky, Miss, to have man such as Director Beckett.”

Another hum of agreement left her at the words.

“You make such a beautiful bride.”

That one caught her attention and her eyes snapped from the incoming ship to the woman stood before her.

“What did you say?”

“You make such a beautiful bride.” She repeated, a light smile on her lips as she straightened the lace cuffs of her sleeves.

“Bride.” She repeated. “I’m no…” She trailed off as the woman stepped aside and left her staring at her reflection in the floor length mirror. “…bride.”

She was resplendent in ivory; the silk flowed over the copious amounts of skirts like water running down a sail and her bodice was a tapestry of pearls coming together to make intricate shapes and patterns. There was lace trimming her sleeves and the line of her bust and her hair had been coiled into an elaborate bun with curls falling everywhere to emphasise the undisturbed fall of the sheer veil cascading down her back.

“I…I…”

“Don’t you like it?” They asked. “I don’t know how you couldn’t; I’ve never seen such a beautiful wedding dress.”

“Wedding dress.” She repeated; her mouth dry, breaths shallow and mind spinning.

“Mrs Olivia Beckett; doesn’t that sound splendid?”

They’d had to drag her from the house. She’d refused to move from the room once her mind had caught up with Beckett’s plan. The maids had been confused at her refusal and then her shouts and kicks as two red-coats barged into her room, clasped her by the arms and hauled her down the staircase.

She was still protesting now; her arms fighting the hold of the man who’d been forced in beside her to stop her from trying to make a break for it, even as her carriage rolled through the streets.

She felt sick; everything was churning and it was only getting worse as the noise of the streets increased as everyone tried to get a peek at the bride of the benevolent Director of West African Imports and Exports for the East India Trading Company.

“Let me go.” She tried again, wrenching her sideways. But his hold remained strong despite her maids warning to treat her gently lest they ruin the dress. “Please.” She whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want this.”

“And His Majesty doesn’t want pirates roaming the seas.” The guard snapped. “Anyone else would have been hung but you’ve been saved.” He reminded her. “This…” He sneered at the dress and the cheering citizens. “…is far more than you deserve, pirate.”

She fell silent at that. it was true; she’d been spared the gallows but this was as much of a death sentence. To be cut off from the sea, from Jack, was like cutting out her heart. She belonged on the deck of a creaking ship with one hand on the wheel and the other keeping the sun from her eyes; it was in her blood and in her soul and Cutler Beckett knew that keeping her here with the sea so close but so far away, was better torture than any.

“The seas are ours.” The guard said as the port’s church came into view. “And this is a reminder to anyone who sails under that dammed flag that no matter where they go; we’ll find them.”

Apparently, the church was full; there wasn’t a single empty spot in the rows of pews as men and their wives had flooded in from all over the Caribbean to attend the wedding with some of Beckett’s former Calabar colleagues having made the crossing too.

It made her feel sicker. How hadn’t she realised this was his plan? How hadn’t she heard anything about a wedding? With people travelling from so far, this had to have been planned well in advance and yet it had still been a heart-stopping shock to her.

“Get out.”

She threw the guard a glare before taking the outstretched hand of the soldier stood outside the carriage and allowed him to help her down. The crowd broke into cheers at the sight of her; glistening in the mid-morning sun with her veil dancing behind her on the ocean breeze rolling in from the port.

“Move.” The order was low as she was once again taken by the arm and led inside, the man careful to not show the people that she was being dragged here against her will.

The church’s antechamber was cold as she was forced to face the sealed double doors that when opened would reveal a packed room and an empty aisle.

“Shouldn’t my father be the one doing this?” She asked, glancing to the man who had appeared from nowhere to take her arm. “We can contact him and postpone this until he arrives – it would be the proper thing to do.”

“I doubt your father would be displeased with your stand in.” He said, eyes twinkling slightly as he dropped her arm and held out a hand. “Governor Weatherby Swann.” He introduced himself.

“Olivia Harrier.” She said, accepting his hand and letting him place a kiss to the back of it.

“My dear…” He began as he re-took their position. “…we all know who you are.” He laughed softly. “I was delighted to receive your invitation; I’m on my way home to England after visiting Port Royal ahead of my public appointment and a quick respite here is much appreciated before I continue on to collect my daughter Elizabeth.”

She forced a smile onto her face as she realised that he didn’t know this wasn’t what she wanted; that no one likely knew that Beckett was forcing her into this as his prisoner.

“She does love a wedding and is most put out to be missing one so high profile as this; a reformed pirate and an East India Trading Company Director? Well, it’s the talk of England let alone the Caribbean, or so her letters tell me.” He continued.

“I’m glad you could make it, Governor.” She murmured as music began to play from inside the church. “But you see, this isn’t-”

She was silenced as the double doors swung open and the congregation turned to watch them. Governor Swann gave a gentle tug on her arm and then her feet were moving of their own accord; taking her further into the building and away from the open doors through which the civilians would watch.

She reached the end of the aisle far too soon and with a fatherly pat on the shoulder from Governor Swann she was forced to turn to the priest and try and ignore the smug smile on Beckett’s lips.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”

She tuned out after that; not willing to pay attention to the endless rules of marriage that he was setting out before them. She couldn’t believe this was happening; it had to be a nightmare…or was this hell? Had she drowned that day on the Wench and this was her hell? Her eternal punishment for turning her back on God was Beckett. Yes, that sounded about right.

She was forced back into attention as Beckett took her hands and turned her to him.

“Wilt thou, Cutler Beckett, have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will.”

“And wilt thou, Olivia Harrier, have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

She couldn’t speak. She had completely lost the ability to speak.

The church was silent as they waited for her answer but she couldn’t do it; she couldn’t pledge her life to this man under duress. She opened her mouth to turn to the priest and tell him everything; that yes, she was a pirate, but he was forcing her into this against her will and without permission and she didn’t love him! She loved the man with kohl around his eyes and gold in his teeth.

“She will.”

Her head snapped back to Beckett as he stared at her, the priest nodding solemnly and explaining to the congregation that she was simply nervous. They tittered in reply and the Bible was lowered to reveal a single gold band sat upon its pages.

“I, Cutler Beckett, take thee Olivia Harrier to be my wedded wife; to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” He recited reaching out for the band as her left hand was left suspended in the air. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” He slid the band onto her finger and smirked. “Amen.”

The hearty applause of the congregation was cut through by cries of shock emanating into the church from outside. Everyone turned, even her, as the commotion grew closer.

“What is-”

“I object.” The two words reached them clearly even though their speaker was stood far away at the entrance to the church. “We are at the objecting part, aren’t we?”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. She laughed hard with her head thrown back and relief filling her body.

“I missed it didn’t I?” The man asked, sauntering into the main chamber and leaning against a pew. “She’s always telling me I need to work on my timing.” He said, nodding to Olivia. “I’m always the last to…arrive.”

Her laugh intensified as the woman he’d been directing his words too blushed a scandalised red.

“How did you get out?” Beckett asked, her laughter dying in her throat at his tone and the tightened hold on her hands.

“Really got to work on your security, mate.” Jack said, pushing from the pew and making his way down the aisle. “With everyone making sure she didn’t do a runner…” He flashed her a grin. “…no one was keeping an eye on poor old Jack.”

“Get him.” Beckett’s order was low as he glared at Jack, the pirate having come to a stop at the very end of the aisle with her outstretched arms still in Beckett’s tight hold being his only barrier. “Guards…” He called out again, Jack’s eyebrow arching as no one came rushing in. “GUARDS!”

“Amazing what a quick tap on the back of the head can do.” Jack mused, picking at his fingernails boredly. “Not seeing the butt of a pistol coming? Doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in His Majesty’s men.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He reached out and pried Beckett’s fingers from her own, sliding the gold band from its place on her left hand and dropping it back onto the priest’s open Bible. “…I really must get on with this rescue; timing is everything you see.”

She needed no encouragement to take his hand and let him lead her from the church, the congregation and her groom too stunned to move.

“Jack.” His name was a whisper on her lips as they stepped out into the sunshine. “How-”

“No time for explaining, love.” He told her, nodding to the unconscious guards dotted around the place. “We’re not out of the woods yet.” He made to pull her forward, through the gaping crowd but she stopped him.

“Thank you.” She breathed, her free hand pulling him close by his shirt to press their lips together.

“Anytime, love.” He mumbled against her lips before letting out a groan at the sight over her shoulder.

“Not so fast, pirates.” She echoed Jack’s groan as Beckett’s voice neared them; the man clearly having found his courage as he watched them lock lips from his spot at the altar.  

The still assembled crowd of civilians gasped at the sight of the pistol clutched in his hand and its barrel wavering between the pair. They must be sight, she mused. Her, in all her finery clutching to Jack; an undeniable pirate with his red bandanna tied around his forehead and a belt full of weapons at his waist.

“I was willing to overlook your criminal past, Miss Harrier.” Beckett continued as he too stepped out into the sunshine, the congregation all twisted in their seats with necks craning to get a view of what would no doubt be the most talked about wedding for years to come. “I was willing to raise you above your station and into a symbol of the East India Trading Company’s generosity.” The pistol steadied and focused directly on her. “I see now that you deserved none of it; that you are and always will be a pirate.”

“I wouldn’t do that, mate.” The tip of a sword was at Beckett’s throat immediately as the Director’s thumb pulled back his pistol’s hammer.

“You’re right.” She released her hold on Jack’s shirt and stepped out of the comfort his arm around her waist promised. “I am a pirate.” She told Beckett. “Always have been, always will be.”

She stepped forward and with a quick tug on the pistol’s barrel pulled it from his hold, leaving him completely vulnerable to the steel at the column of his throat. Her finger was quick on the trigger and the cries and shouts from the crowd as the gun went off, shooting upwards into the open air, filled the quiet space as she turned to address the gathered people both within and outside of the church.

“So, let this be the day you all remember as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow…” the sword retracted from Beckett’s neck with a small nip at the underside of his jaw. “…and Olivia Harrier.” She dropped into another mock curtsey, the pistol between her fingers a stark contrast to the ivory of her gown.

Their hands intertwined instantly as she rose and then they were off, barrelling through the streets of Nassau and down towards the port.

When Cutler Beckett eventually stopped staring at the smudge of red coating is fingers as he pulled them from the thin line under his chin he would no doubt release a particularly wonderful strain of curses and all but kick awake his fallen men.

Olivia grinned at the thought.

And when they regained enough consciousness to follow after the fleeing pirates, they’d find nothing but a pile of sheer material that had once been a veil laying in a puddle of mud halfway to the ocean that she’d victoriously ripped from her hair as they ran and let fall behind her.

Obey and serve? Not likely.

“You’re late.”

They came to a skidding stop at the docks of Nassau. Jack was barely out of breath as he greeted the frowning man waiting for them at the wooden planks raised slightly above the water level but she was gasping for air, one hand clutching at her corseted waist; fingers poking around for some sort of relief from the cage, as her eyes landed on the older man pointing to a hastily tied up row boat nearby.

“Who are you?”

The man’s gruff demeanour changed as his eyes landed on her; hair slightly matted from the ripping out of her veil but otherwise still picture perfect in her wedding dress.

“Joshamee Gibbs, at your service.” He lifted the worn top-hat from his head and fell into a slight bow.

“A pleasure.” She replied, her smile strained as her eyes lingered on his clothes, specifically the insignia of His Majesty’s Royal Navy partially hidden under his heavy coat. She turned to Jack. “You trust him?”

“Gibbs saved my neck before.” He told her as the man straightened, his posture one of pride as Jack spoke. “Years ago; on a voyage with Teague.” She nodded but eyed the man carefully. “And he’s the best rum smuggler in the Caribbean.”

“Well in that case…” She held out her hand to him. “Olivia Harrier.” He shook it once, a smile on his lips. “Now, please tell me your plan doesn’t include me getting into that…” She nodded to the row boat. “…in this.” She gestured to her dress and watched their smiles fade. “I’ll be little more than a beacon for them to shoot at!”

“Not to worry.” Gibbs assured her as Jack moved to untie the boat. “You’ll be fine; once you get to the Pearl, no ship will catch up.” He slid his coat from his body and wrapped it around her; the dark material hiding just enough of her.

“The Pearl?” She asked, letting him push her towards the row boat. “Where did you get another ship from?”

“Long story.” Jack said, hand outstretched to help her down. “Gibbs…” He turned to the man once she was seated; the coat gripped around her. “…take what you can.”

“Give nothing back.” The man concluded, hand raised in salute as Jack pushed off from the dock.

“I like him.” Olivia noted, watching as he took off from the docks to no doubt relay misleading information to whoever came looking for them. “He seems a good man…for a pirate.”

They were cutting through the waves of Nassau with ease as Jack’s arms pushed and pulled at the oars in a well-practised rhythm honed from years on the ocean.

“What ship is this?” She asked, neck craned as the small row-boat turned and revealed the side of a magnificent ebony hull. “I’ve never seen one like it.”

“It’s more familiar than you’d think.” He told her, grinning at her confused frown as he gave a final pull of the oars and lined them up alongside the ship.

She let her hand skim the surface of the worn wood, the grain seeing strangely familiar to her as a rope ladder unfurled from the deck to reach them. Her hands gripped the coarse rope and she let a smile bloom on her painted lips at the familiar feeling of a ship beneath her palms. She pulled herself upwards with ease letting the hands of the waiting crew pull her up and onto the deck as she craned her neck to take in the array of the tied-up sails blowing in the slight breeze.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Harrier.”

“Thank you.” She brushed at the material of her dress, legs reacclimatising to the gentle rock of the ship as she glanced around crew. “Whose ship is this?” She asked again, hearing Jack’s boots land on the deck behind her.

“Mine.”

“Yours?” She turned to him, a crease between her brows.

“Well…” He took her hand and led her across the deck, the crew parting to let them through before scuttling off to their positions and jobs. “…ours.” He led her up, onto the helm and placed her hands on the ornate wheel. “Feel familiar?”

“The Wench.” She breathed, the grooves in the wood too familiar to be anything but those of her beloved ship. “But she was lost; burned to a crisp.”

“And now she’s here; returned to us.”

“Gibbs called her ‘The Pearl’.” She reminded him.

“Aye, felt she needed a re-name, what, with all the bad blood.” He stroked the wheel, his hand covering hers as he stood behind her. “And so I welcome you, Olivia Harrier, aboard the Black Pearl.”

The ship sprang to life instantly; the sails unfurled and caught the breeze perfectly, letting it push them outwards as the sound of an anchor retracting filled the air. The move from stationary to sailing was seamless, not even a judder rocked the deck as the anchor fully retracted and they began to drift from the cove that had hidden them from the whole of Nassau.

“Now…” Jack breathed, his voice filling the shell of her ear as their fingers intertwined atop the wheel. “Show me that horizon.”