#Chief Standing Bear Trail

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Hello from Manhattan--Kansas, that is! I'm on my way to Missouri again to do some teaching, exploring, and visiting my family. I spent all week driving and was set to arrive last night. But I woke up yesterday morning with a mild cold (oh no!) and so I extended my stay at the hotel a couple of nights to let it run its course since this is NOT the sort of gift I want to give my family. Thankfully, it's my absolute favorite hotel on the entire route, the Best Western in Manhattan, so if I was going to be grounded anywhere for a couple of days en route this would be it.

On the bright side, I did manage to have a good (outdoor) meeting with the educational director at the Flint Hills Discovery Center, which I recommend visiting if you're ever in the area and want to learn about the native tallgrass prairies of this region. We're putting together some plans for me to do some teaching during my seasonal peregrinations, and a book signing next year when The Everyday Naturalist is out. I'm very excited about this collaboration, because this is a first-rate educational facility and I love everything they're doing there.

Unless this virus decides to take a turn for the worse tonight--which it shouldn't--I'll be on my way tomorrow morning, with a detour over to Konza Prairie for a nice ramble. I've been stuck in the car and indoors way too much this week, and while I got to do a too-short but pleasant jaunt along the Chief Standing Bear Trail Thursday afternoon on my way to Manhattan, I've really been looking forward to my prairie time.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.7K] a little oneshot looking into the relationship that follows from ISITTGG. just smut, my dudes 18+

Steve Harrington was throwing gummy bears at your bedroom window. 

It was barely dusk, the sun just setting, that pretty kind of twilight light settling over the town in a blue-pink glow. The grass below your window was still too long, flowers still in bloom despite the way summer was leaving and September had begun. It smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the air outside was clean like chlorine, like freshly cut grass and the crisp like the beginning of fall. It wasn't as warm as it had been, but when you braced your hand on the sill and looked down to the space between your house and the Harrington’s, your boyfriend was standing there in just a short sleeved t-shirt. 

His jeans had a rip in the knee and his hair was wild, no doubt from driving around town with the car windows rolled right down, Eddie and Jonathan fighting over riding shotgun and the radio station. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d been going too fast, like he’d seen Chief Hopper’s flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror, laughed and gave him a chase.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been too eager to get back to you. 

He grinned at the sight of you, head tilted back, the crawling ivy that trailed over the bricks of his house brushing his hair. He had more freckles than ever from the summer passed, a dust of them over his nose, the leftover line from a scratch on his right brow from when Eddie dared him to land an ollie after a keg party.

Steve couldn’t skateboard.

“There she is,” the boy called out. He leaned against the wall, ivy and honeysuckle staining his white t-shirt. “Did you get prettier?”

You snorted, an unattractive noise that only made Steve grin wider. You leaned out the window a little further, pyjama shirt getting pulled by the wind. “You saw me four hours ago, Harrington.”

Steve squinted up at you, a half smile, a half shrug, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek. He looked like trouble, some kind of James Dean daydream. “Point still stands, princess. You gonna let me in?”

You rolled your eyes like it was all too much effort, even though your heart was bursting against your ribcage and the thought of Steve sneaking in through the garden gate to see you, standing in wait at your front door so he could slip up the stairs behind you. He was leaning against the bricks when you met him round the front, cheeks hot when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to one, ‘cause your parents were in the kitchen making pasta and drinking red wine, greeting the boy warmly and throwing half serious threats up the staircase about keeping your bedroom door open.

You ignored them, closing it behind Steve as he wandered into your room, throwing himself onto your bed like he always did. The window was still open, curtains catching in the breeze, the soft static of your record player singing something he didn’t recognise. You watched the boy stretch out across your sheets, sneakers toed off over the edge and hitting the floor with a thud as he grinned at you. Steve had been yours for a month now, best friends for a decade longer but the sight of him against your pillows still made your inside somersault. It was a giddy feeling, when he coaxed you closer, sitting up so you could stand between his legs, denim jeans scratching at the outside of your bare thighs and he hummed when you wound your arms around his shoulders, fingertips playing with the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands found the backs of your legs, the soft skin just under the curve of your ass and he nosed at your sternum, grinning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all night,” he murmured softly, lips grazing the cotton of your sleep shirt - his shirt. “Too soft, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the kind that made your feature scrunch up, cheeks warm and aching with that new kind of happiness that you hoped would never get old. “The softest,” you declared. “You were supposed to be having fun with the guys.”

Steve craned his neck back, face tilted up to you and the last of the sunlight that came through the corner of the window. It turned one eye lighter than the other, honey and whisky, his lashes casting shadows over one sunset coloured cheek. “I did, until Eddie tried to start a fight with Carver. Again.” His fingers pinched softly at the fat of your ass, making you squeak. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss, huh?”

You pulled at his hair in retaliation, smirking when he only grunted in response. You ducked down a little to meet him, nose bumping his, loving the way his eyes found your lips, focused on your mouth. “He can ask nicely, for a start.”

You shrieked when you were hauled against the boy, laughter caught in your throat as Steve threw himself and you back onto the mattress, both of you landing clumsily amongst the pillows, on top of each other. He had you pinned before you could get your bearings, legs on either side of your hips as he grinned down at you victorious. He leaned in, crowding you, the smell of his cologne, smoke that you hoped was Eddie’s and not his, all around you. He was part of you now. Steve clung to your bed, he stayed in your sheets, left a part of himself behind on your pillows.

“Please, princess,” he whispered against your lips.

It was easy to give in, easier than trying to pretend you wouldn’t have kissed him without politeness. It was a sticky, soft thing. The sweetest kind of kiss, the kind that came from being so happy that you were finally able to put your lips to his. He tasted like vanilla, like cherry coke and Steve. It was the easiest thing in the world to let him tug you into him , his smile pressed against your own mouth, as he hummed, falling onto the mattress again and pulling you onto his lap. 

You petted at his hair, pushing the mess of it away from his forehead so you could sit some kisses there too, grinning when he squeezed at your waist, the soft of your hips. “You hungry?” You asked quietly, enjoying the warmth of him underneath you, like he’d brought the sun home with him. “Have you had food?”

Steve shook his head, hair brushing your cheek as he tried to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, nosing at the collar of your shirt so he could kiss at your throat. “Had some cereal, at like, ten,” he mumbled. 

“Steven,” you admonished, “s’almost nine at night.”

“Mmm, call me that again, s’hot,” Steve teased. 

You shoved at the boy’s shoulder, rolling your eyes and hiding your smile even though Steve was grinning. You eased off him, lying next to him on the bed instead. Your gaze met his, so close you could count those new freckles. “I could make you somethin’. Grilled cheese? You gotta eat, babe.”

It was lighthearted the way Steve pulled one of your legs over his hip, palm climbing up your bare thigh, so big his fingers were curling round to the inside, close to grazing your cunt. He kissed a line over your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck until you squirmed. His voice was salacious, only half joking when he said:

“Oh my god,” he groaned dramatically. “That sounds better than head right now.”

It wasn’t out of the blue, that kind of talk, not really. Your sex life with Steve was still new, experimental in the best way. It had been almost five weeks of learning about each other in a way that you’d never gotten to before, working out how the other liked to be kissed, touched, teased. There’d been hurried make outs in the back of his car, on your living room sofa before your parents came home, quick touches and messy grinding on his bed before you had to return to your own. 

And when the time allowed it, when Steve got you to himself for hours on end, he kissed you until your jaw ached, until his lips were as pink as yours, working you up with his fingers until he could slide his cock inside of you and press you into the mattress. It was all new, shiny and glittery, warm bodies in the beds you used to make pillow forts out of, his cologne on your sheets, your perfume on his sweaters you stole. You shared bottles of sunscreen, swam in the backyard pools when the day turned to night and it felt like you were floating between stars, leftover barbeque smoke in the air as your legs touched Steve’s under the water.

It was a summer of sex and chlorine on skin, taking late night drives to the seven eleven in the next town over, icee’s for dinner, throwing gummy worms into the boy’s open mouth until he pulled you into his back seat and you could taste the sugar on his tongue. Steve was yours now, and god, your boy was summer incarnate.

But he hadn’t done that. Not yet.

You squirmed, feeling that too hot flush creeping up over your chest and neck. You rolled to the side, lying on your back so you could squint at the ceiling and try to work out how to make a joke out of it. You laughed, a little weakly, half shrugging and refusing to meet his gaze when the boy leaned up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t know.”

Steve stared at you, one corner of his lips quirking up like he thought you were telling him a joke. When you didn’t laugh, he wrinkled his brow. “What?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed per say, in fact, you were reminded of a time - years and years ago - when you and the boy were trapped in a cupboard, standing too close to each other in the dark as you whispered about the people you’d kissed, the things you’d been to shy to do.

“What?” you shrugged, unaffected by Steve's bewildered stare. “So no one’s gone down on me, it’s not a big deal.” You tried hard not to sound defensive but Steve must’ve picked up on it anyway. 

“No, no,” Steve reassured, leaning in closer to dot a kiss to your cheek, another on your forehead for extra reassurance. “It’s not a big deal at all, babe. I just, I just thought - I assumed - you know. An ex would’ve offered, or something.”

You took the hem of the boy’s shirt in between your fingers for something to do, your gaze lowered when you shrugged again. “I mean, I don’t think a girl’s pleasure was at the forefront of most seventeen year old boys minds - or eighteen - and then, I don’t know, Chris--”

Steve made a face at the mention of the other boy.

“--he tried once, kind of, I think and, I guess it was okay? He didn’t really do it for long? But maybe I just took--”

“Did you come?”

You snorted, unable to help it and Steve grinned. Any chance to one up Chris Maxwell, no matter how long it had been since he’d had to watch you go on dates with him, Steve would take happily. “No, I didn’t get the chance to enjoy myself. It felt weird, and honestly, he was too busy trying to get a condom out at the same time.”

“What an asshole,” Steve groaned and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, your jaw. 

“You’ve always thought he was an asshole, Steven.”

“Point still stands,” Steve scoffed and he pulled back, staring down at you with a sudden intensity. He worked his way between your thighs. “You trust me, right?”

You nodded. Of course you trusted Steve. You’d know him longer than you hadn’t. He’d already seen you naked, shit, he’d been inside of you. But there was something so incredibly new about the way he was lying between your legs, your knees by his shoulders as he pressed what was supposed to be a calming kiss to the inside of one. Instead, your heart jumped. It rattled inside of your ribcage, threatening to break the bones there. 

“Can I try?”

You were speechless, blinking at the boy as you tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his mouth on a new part of you. His tongue, his lips, kissing over your cunt. You were suddenly burning. 

“You don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, babe,” Steve murmured, sensing your hesitation. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.” Another kiss, this time a little higher in the inside of your thigh. “But I promise I’ll try to make you feel real good.”

“I know,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets in anticipation. “I just— you wanna do this, right? Like this isn’t just ‘cause no one’s ever done it to me properly before?” You hated how unsure you sounded and you felt yourself go hot when Steve raised his brows at you. 

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Steve laughed, not meanly, not at you. He moved closer, kissing a line up the inside of your leg until his shoulders were pressed underneath your thighs and god— his face was so close to the soft cotton of your pyjama shorts. “Babe. Baby, you’ve no idea how much I wanna do this. Just, relax for me, yeah?”

You looked down at Steve as he shuffled between your spread legs, curling his arms around the tops of your thighs so he could pull them apart a little further, making more room for himself. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. “Ready?”

You nodded, whispering a small, shy, excited ‘yeah,’ before Steve grinned up at you. You let yourself fall back onto the mattress. Eyes on the ceiling, body electric.  

You expected your sleep shorts to be rolled down your hips, over your legs and thrown to the floor. But instead, Steve leaned in to kiss over them, the thin cotton not doing much to dull the feel of his mouth over your cunt. You jumped, gasping, head lifting back up and off of the bed to see Steve smile, his pink, full lips pushed into a pout as he kissed over your covered folds. He hummed, nose pushed to you in a way that made the fabric cling to you, damp seeping through already. 

“Good?” Steve asked quietly, hiding his smile at your soft noises of agreement. “You like that?”

It was maddening, the soft lilt of his voice, teasing, gentle, earnest all at once. You wanted to cry out when he let his tongue drag over you, sleep shorts getting more and more wet as they stuck to the lines of you, your cunt almost visible through the damp fabric. Steve pushed his thumbs into the crease of your thighs, soothed you back down a little as he kissed your knee. “Your parents are downstairs, babe, you gotta keep quiet, yeah?”

His words made you spin, too dizzy to comprehend that you did actually need to shut the fuck up. But it hadn’t felt like this when Chris had made an attempt, a thirty second appearance between your thighs in the back of his car before he got too impatient and demanded you ride him. So you whined a little desperately and gasped at Steve’s touch, wondering when your boyfriend was going to put you out of your misery and take your shorts off. 

But Steve ducked back down to kiss over you again, proper, open mouthed kissed against the folds of your pussy, his tongue sneaking out every now and then to bump against your covered clit and you were wriggling in his hands, head thrown back, vision hazy because you forgot to blink, lips parted in a quiet moan. You felt fingers at the band of your shorts then, warm and sure and you lifted your bum up in anticipation. But instead of being pulled down your legs, Steve tugged up. 

Cheeks hot with a strange type of embarrassment, you gasped out, realising that the thin cotton of your tiny shorts were now tucked between your folds, a firm pressure on your clit that had you reeling. You couldn’t fathom what you must’ve looked like, but when you gazed back down at Steve, glassy eyed and panting, Steve was staring at your pussy like a man starved. 

His own eyes were heavy lidded, dark and heated, his lips parting at the sight of you. Steve pulled up again, just slightly, groaning low when the fabric slipped further between your folds. He can see the outline of everything, the soaked patch that’s clinging to your entrance, the bump of your clit under pink cotton. He reaches out to trace it with a fingertip, swearing when you jerk forward, wanting more. He pulls you into him, hands grabbing at your thighs so he can push his face back between them and he licks a flat, slow stripe over your cunt. 

You can’t help but arch up, biting down on the meat of one of your hands while the other finds Steve’s hair, fingers twining through the strands and pulling, hard. The boy moans at that, something you already knew he liked too much but it sends his own hips rocking into the bed, chasing any friction he can get, letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are. And once your underwear is soaked through, you’re fuzzy, feeling drunk and ready to beg for him to take them off but Steve is one step ahead of you, tapping your ass so you’ll plant your feet on the mattress and lift your hips for him. 

You do it immediately, muffling a whine as he has to peel your wet underwear from between your folds, dragging them down your legs before settling back between them, kissing over the soft of your stomach as he pushes the hem of your too big shirt up your ribs. “Let me see you, princess, lemme see those pretty tits.”

The breeze from the evening came through the still open window but you were more than sure the goosebumps on your skin came from Steve’s words, his rough, wrecked sounding voice. You obeyed, pulling the fabric of your shirt up until it rested under your chin. “Steve, please, I really need—”

Another kiss, just below your belly button, another, climbing up your ribcage and the boy hushed you. “S’alright, I know, I know.” He swiped two fingers through you, feeling how warm and slick you were for him. “Shit, baby, wanna really feel me, yeah?”

You nodded, a furious movement that made Steve grin. You settled back on your elbows this time, legs open for the boy, eager to watch. “Please, yeah. Fuck, it’s— Steve, please.”

Steve didn’t hesitate, pressing himself down onto the mattress as he spread you with two thumbs, groaning at the way you glistened in the last of the lowlight, your bedroom turning seven shades of blue as evening rolled in. He could hear sprinklers turn on outside, the faint hum of your parents television from downstairs, the way your breathing picked up when he blew over your clit, pink and swollen for him and his touch. 

“So pretty, baby,” he praised, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

You scrunched your face at the praise, cheeks burning, your bare chest rising and falling faster and faster and faster. “You tell me that all the time.”

Steve laughed softly, ducking his head down to kiss you, a chaste peck in the dirtiest of ways, lips sliding over your cunt, still spread for him. You gasped, head falling back for a second, clenching down on nothing and you knew Steve would see, you knew Steve was watching. You heard him exhale roughly. 

“Talkin’ about her, princess.” Steve hummed, licked over his lips to chase your taste and dipped down again to drag his tongue oh so fucking slowly from your entrance to your clit. “Yeah? Talkin’ about how pretty this pussy is.”

The compliment made you pull Steve’s hair harder, hips wiggling as you groaned, eyes falling shut when the boy huffed out a soft laugh and pulled you closer, nose bumping against your clit as he pressed his tongue into you, slick, wet noises filling the room and making your breath hitch. Up and down, up and down, up and down, Steve licked you like a popsicle, humming when your hips twitched, pushing his lips around your clit and sucking gently, teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he went back to kissing all you all over. 

It was messy, wet, Steve’s lips and chin shining with you, his eyes fluttering shut every time he dragged his tongue through your folds, his hips rocking down into the mattress as he tried to ease the pressure in his jeans. He was harder than he’d ever been. 

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice broken and cracking at the pleasure. “Steve, please, I’m so close.”  

The boy murmured softly against your skin, a thing you were sure was supposed to soothe you but you just arched against his mouth instead. He pulled back, just slightly, smiling when you cried out, hushing you with wide eyes. “Princess, hey, hey, baby,” he kissed the crease of your thigh, licked the wet there that made your skin shine, growling at the taste. “You gotta stay quiet, yeah? Keep quiet baby and I’ll make you come, I promise.”

You nodded, doe eyed as you stared down your body at him, barely keeping yourself up on your elbows, legs quivering as Steve pushed them further apart. “Lie back for me, yeah? That’s it, good girl. M’gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, princess, tell me what you need.”

Steve sounded reverent, kissing over your stomach and the small thatch of curls before licking into your folds again, pressing his lips to your clit. “Fingers,” you gasped out, clenching your comforter in each hand. Your knuckles were white. “Please, fingers please.”

Steve didn’t even respond with words, he just sucked his middle and pointer into his mouth and pushed them into you, groaning at how easy they slid in. The feeling of being so suddenly full made your head fall back, huffs of air escaping from your lips and making the ceiling fuzzy, it was glittering. The stars didn’t seem to stay outside anymore. 

“Pull your legs up, baby, c’mon, open up for me,” Steve rasped, pushing your legs up with his shoulders until you got the hint and pressed your knees to your chest, letting them fall open even further until you were sure you were going to die from the way you were so exposed for him. 

But Steve whined, a needy desperate noise and you felt the mattress dip and lift as he jumped himself into the bed, chasing his own release as he gave you yours. “Oh, good girl, baby, that’s so good. That’s it, yeah? Can get my fingers nice ‘n’ deep, huh?” He proved his point by rubbing the tips of his digits in small circles, pressing into the spot you could never reach. 

It made your legs shake, toes curling and you were able to gasp out, “mouth, use your mouth, please,” just as you felt yourself getting pulled into the mattress, a hook in your tummy that was getting warmer and heavier, a buzzing in your ears like white static and Steve’s tongue was almost lazy as it dragged over you clit, soft and slow and languid. You felt every bit of it, cunt fluttering around the base of his fingers, sucking him in until Steve swore into you, lips parting around your pussy in a messy, wet kiss and he sucked hard when your back arched, legs falling, feet hitting the mattress, ass lifting up and into his face. You pushed yourself against his mouth, uninhibited, eyes squeezed shut and your hands fumbling for a pillow, an old stuffed teddy, anything to bite into to stifle your cries. 

“Shit, princess, so fuckin’ hot, Christ, that’s it,” Steve groaned, pupils blow wide as he stared up at you. “Touch those tits for me, baby, play w’them, yeah.”

The boy’s hands grabbed at your thighs as you obeyed, fingertips biting into the soft skin, pulling you into him, groaning almost too loud when you moved against his tongue, hips rolling as you came. You felt it everywhere, a slow roll into an orgasm that shattered, sending you reeling, unwound, undone. There was glitter behind your eyelids, stars, a new planet. 

You bit down into the corner of your cushion, soft, muffled noises caught between your teeth and you felt something wet slip from one eye, a tear that rolled over your cheek and onto the baby blue pillow case. You twitched, whining as you tried to pull away, overstimulated, easing yourself back onto the bed and trying to catch your breath. 

Steve ran his wide hands over your thighs, up and down, up and down, one pressing to the soft of your tummy as he soothed you. “Shh, princess, I know.” He kissed over your clit, cooing when you jerked underneath him. “Sorry, sorry, s’okay, just lemme—” he cut himself off to lick over you, soft, slow drags of his tongue that avoided that overly sensitive bump at the top of your cunt. 

You sighed prettily, soft moans as your eyes closed again, sucking in deep breaths as Steve cleaned you up, licking away everything you gave him, kissing sweetly over your folds before easing your legs from his shoulders. You lay spent, eyes closed and cheeks warm as the boy crawled his way back over you, dotting kisses over your ribs, the curve of your breast, grinning as you whined when he grazed his teeth over a nipple. You clung to Steve as he burrowed into you, nosing at your neck and humming, letting you grab at his hair and drag his mouth to yours. 

This kiss was as  languid and hot as it was when he kissed you elsewhere, his tongue licking over yours, the taste of yourself making you whine. You could feel Steve smiling, lips still pressed to yours, his nose against your cheek. He leaned back, just slightly, one hand pushing your hair from your damp forehead, grinning wide at the sight of your glassy eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked softly, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. 

You mumbled something Steve couldn't make out and clung a little tighter, pulling the boy down until he was pressed against your chest and you could hide your face in his neck.  

“That good?” Steve tried to tease but he couldn’t help but sound sincere, you were still trembling, doing your best to burrow into him. 

“Insane,” you said into the cotton of his shirt, lips pressed to his shoulder. “Stupid good, yeah. Fuck.” You were whimpering a little, voice soft and half asleep sounding and it made Steve beam. You wriggled against him, the breeze from the window seeming cooler now that Steve wasn’t working you up and your thigh brushed against a damp patch against his crotch. “Did you come?”

There was no judgement behind your answer, just quiet awe. You smiled when Steve scoffed, nodding as he leaned in to peck at your lips again. “Uh, ‘course I did. How could I not? You were grinding all over me like some kinda wet dream, princess shit—”

“Steve,” you whined, a little embarrassed as the high wore off, cheeks too hot when Steve laughed. You crawled over him, thighs straddling his lap. Your shirt - Steve’s shirt - fell back down, pooling your waist and covering you back up. Steve pouted, hands diving underneath anyway, fingers spanning over your thighs. You raised a brow. “You still hungry?”

Steve smirked, squeezing at your legs, revelling in the warmth he could still feel from between them. “Oh, she’s got jokes now, huh?”

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: More hikers are going missing and now one of them has been found dead, seeming having been attacked by a strange animal. Meanwhile, Leon stops by your work, giving you an offer you can't refuse.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

You awake the next morning at around 7:00am, stretching your arms and yawning loudly before rubbing your eyes, the events of the previous night gone from your mind as you climb out of bed. You throw on your pajama pants before going downstairs, where you find both your parents now huddled in front of the TV.

“What’s going on?” you ask, standing in the threshold of the living room before stepping in to join your parents.

What you see, shocks you. It’s a breaking news report. Fish and Game had found one of the hikers, Alicia Walker, dead off of one of the Mt. Lafayette trails.

“They’re calling it an animal attack,” your father suddenly breaks the silence, “there were signs she had been attacked by some kind of animal like a bear or… a coydog. But… I’ve never heard of bears or coydogs attacking people around here.”

Your focus returns to the TV, where you watch the reporter at the Mt. Lafayette trailhead.

“Fish and Game is asking hikers to never hike alone, let friends and family know if they plan on hiking and where, as well as bring adequate protection to defend themselves against wildlife until they can find and euthanize the animal responsible for this attack. Fish and Game believes this same animal is responsible for the other missing hikers, the latest being 21 year old Nathaniel Dion of Oakvale who was last seen Monday--”

Your eyes widen at the name; you went to school with this guy. He wasn’t anyone you knew personally, but he was one of the more popular guys in your high school class. You recall he was a huge fitness junky. He was also Chief Bob’s only son; you could only begin to imagine how much this probably distressed him and his family. 

“Poor Bob and Nancy…” you hear your mother say before she abruptly walks into the kitchen, “I’m going to call them up and see if there’s anything we can do to help them, Mick.”

“Yeah, it’s the least we can do, maybe we should have them over for lunch. I’m sure they could use the company,” your father suggests before turning off the TV and joining your mother in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you remain in the living room, staring at your reflection in the TV screen before you turn, going back upstairs to your bedroom to get dressed.

Later that day, Chief Bob and his wife Nancy do end up coming over for lunch. Your mother had made up sandwiches and fresh ice tea for everyone. Sitting at the dining table with them was unfortunately awkward, Chief Bob and Nancy were clearly distraught, understandably so. 

“He said he was doing the Lafayette, Lincoln and Liberty loop, which normally only takes him a day or two. When he didn’t come back Wednesday…” Nancy begins, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s when I reached out to Fish and Game to report him missing, they immediately organized a search party. That’s when they stumbled upon that other hiker, Alicia. They found her when they were looking for Nate.” Bob finished, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain his composure. 

“Is it true what they’re saying? That an animal is attacking hikers?” you interject before biting into your sandwich.

“That’s the weird part. I asked for a copy of her autopsy report. The poor girl’s throat was practically ripped out, her blood drained out of her body almost completely--”

“Bob, honey, we’re eating.” Nancy scolded.

Bob continues, paying Nancy no mind, “when I talked to the coroner that did her autopsy, he said the bite wound was unlike anything he’s ever seen. I don’t know of a single animal up here that would do that and… drain the blood out like that.”

“I can see why they’re keeping that hush-hush. We don’t need any crazy rumors that we’ve got vampires or some bull crap like that,” Mick replies with his mouth full of sandwich.

“Fish and Game is still looking for Nate, I’m praying to God he just got off trail and got himself lost. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him,” Nancy says with a sigh, resting her hands in her lap as she stares down at her untouched sandwich. 

Your mother reaches over, putting her hand over Nancy’s, giving them a pat, “I have faith that he’s out there. Mick and I and our daughter are here for both of you if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Nancy suddenly bursts into tears, sobbing at the dining room table loudly.

Your mother looks at you, “sweetheart, can you grab the box of tissues that is sitting on my nightstand for Nancy?”

You give your mother a quick nod as you stand up from the dining room table to head upstairs to the master bedroom. So many thoughts were racing through your head, mostly about how the hiker had died. Chief Bob was right; yeah there were bears and coydogs, but nothing would or could suck a person’s blood dry like that. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you find the box of tissues on your mother’s nightstand, right where she said it was and brought it downstairs.

You sit back down at the table but you can’t help but zone out, thinking about Nate, lost in the forest.

That evening, you get yourself ready to go to work, heading into the garage of your family’s home to get into your bright yellow 1977 Chevrolet Chevette. It was kind of a beater, but it was reliable. Your dad had made sure it was running well prior to you flying back home. You turn the key, the engine roaring to life; you turn around in your seat and slowly back out of the garage to go to work.

You hear Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ come on the radio, you turn up the volume and sing along. After a few minutes, you arrive at the gas station, parking your car on the side of the building before heading inside.

“Hey Peggy!” you call out as you walk in, walking into the back office to drop off your purse and car keys before heading up to the register.

“Hey sweetie!” Peggy replies when you come back out to relieve her from her shift, “how was your day?”

“It was ok, we had lunch with Chief Bob and his wife. I’m sure you heard his son Nate’s missing in the mountains.”

Peggy shakes her head, “I did hear about that, poor kid. I really hope they find him safe and sound. They found one of the other hikers dead, right?”

“Yeah, supposedly attacked by some kind of animal.”

“God help us…” Peggy says under her breath as she walks out from behind the register to let you in.

“Have a good night Peggy!” you say to her, seeing her off as you take up your post.

A couple hours go by, you watch as the sun sets behind the mountains. It was a slow night, so you took that opportunity to mop the floors, zoning out the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the gas station. The sound of the door chime snaps you out of your daze. You look up to greet the customer.

“Hey there, how can I help-- oh! Leon!”

Your heart immediately starts racing again upon seeing Leon. He’s wearing a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a black vest on top and tight fitting black pants with black boots. The outfit makes him look otherworldly; simply stunning.

“Hey there, I was hoping you were working tonight,” Leon says, giving you a gentle smile.

“R-Really?” you reply as you haphazardly put your bucket and mop over in a corner, “how… can I be of assistance, Leon?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, I bought that old house on the end of Hemlock Drive.”

“Yeah… Mr. Mason’s place, right? Oh… right… you wouldn’t know who that was…” you say, your voice trailing off. 

Leon lets out a playful chuckle before continuing, “well… I’m starting to realize I could use an extra pair of hands to help fix it up.”

“You want me to ask around to see if anyone can help?” you say, crossing your arms, shifting your weight on one foot.

“I was actually hoping I could hire you.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you process his words. The door chime going off again snaps you out of your shock.

“Hold that thought,” you gesture your finger at Leon as you walk behind the cash register to help the customer that walked in, a stranger passing through getting gas.

Leon stands behind the customer but off to the side, waiting for them to leave so that you two could continue your conversation. You send the customer off on their way after they pay for gas, drawing your attention back to Leon.

“So… what would I be helping you with? I don’t know much about… building stuff,” you explain, feeling your cheeks turn red.

“Oh no, nothing like that. I’d have you help with painting, cleaning, maybe nailing stuff down. Easy stuff, I promise. And I’d be paying you.”

“How much?”

Leon shrugs his shoulders, “I was thinking… $10 an hour? I’d have you do Monday through Friday from 7:00am to 3:00pm, give or take.”

$10?! you think to yourself. 

That is way over what you’re making here, which is minimum wage, “I’ll do it. I’d have to put my notice in here first.”

Leon smiles, “think you can start next Monday?”

“Absolutely!”

Leon leans forward against the counter, reaching across to give one of your shoulders a pat, “excellent! See you on Monday then.”

Leon gives you a subtle wink, turning to walk out of the gas station. You watch as he gets on his motorcycle, jumping a bit when it roars to life, your eyes remaining locked on him as he drives off. You can’t believe your luck.

Pulling up to his home at the end of Hemlock Drive, Leon parks his motorcycle out front, climbing off it before heading inside. Immediately upon entering the front door, he lets himself finally relax, taking off his vest before he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He walks into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his chiseled chest. 

Before long, dark veins begin to sprawl across his body as he rubs the knots out of the back of his neck with one of his hands, his eyes closed as he lets out a low groan. He slowly opens his eyes, his ocean blue eyes now a brilliant red; they appear to glow in the low light of the bathroom. He snarls his lips at his reflection, revealing his sharp canine teeth that have descended, licking the points with his tongue before he steps back, admiring his physique in the mirror. All the while, something deep and primal within him, at the very core of his being, begins to nag him once more, something that wouldn’t stop since he first laid eyes on the cute girl that works nights at the gas station.

Breed.

In fact, he had gotten himself so worked up that night he met her while filling his motorcycle’s gas tank that he had to go out and hunt. Smirking in the mirror, he turns, walking out of the bathroom, approaching a door in the rear of the house that was padlocked shut. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the padlock and setting it aside on a small table before opening the door. It leads to the basement, the smell of blood immediately hitting his senses, driving his hunger wild. He descends the stairs slowly, flipping on a light at the bottom that turns on a single set of fluorescent lights.

Under the light, there is a support beam that a young man is tied to, bloody, battered and his neck covered in several bite marks, with duct tape wrapped around his mouth and eyes. The young man immediately hears Leon approach, struggling as much as his weak body can against his restraints. Leon stalks over to the young man, grasping him by his chin and squeezing tightly, smirking down at him. Today he learned this imbecile is the Oakvale’s chief of police’s only son. Just his luck. It was because of this moron hiking alone that Fish and Game had found the remnants of one of his other meals looking for this idiot. He could feel his frustration boiling within him, causing him to suddenly twist the young man’s head, snapping his neck instantly.

“Whoops.”

He didn’t mean to snap the poor kid’s neck, he was hoping to enjoy him for a few more days, now he has to enjoy as much as he can before his blood starts to go stale. Opening his mouth, his fangs and mouth latch onto the dead young man’s neck, growling as he begins to feed upon him. He gets his fill, unlatching himself from the young man’s lifeless form with a gasp, breathing heavily as blood runs from his lips, dripping down his chin onto his bare chest. The young man’s body slumps forward as Leon steps back. He’s going to have to get rid of him before his cute angel starts her new “job” on Monday.

Thinking of her, his eyes flutter shut, his right hand smearing the blood that had dripped down across his chest, bringing his hand to his lips to lick off the blood. Before getting himself too worked up again, he turns around, leaving the basement, shutting off the light as he ascends back up the stairs. He goes back into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As he waits for the water to warm up, he looks at himself again in the mirror. His pupils dilate upon seeing the blood on his skin. Turning away from the mirror, he removes what’s left of his clothing and steps into the shower to clean himself up, watching as blood runs down his naked body, the blood swirling on the shower floor before going down the drain. 

His mind wanders back to his cute angel, to that night he watched her from the window while she played with herself, his own blood rushing straight to his cock. Grasping himself with his right hand, he begins to stroke himself aggressively, chasing his orgasm as he pictured his cute angel lying beneath him, her undoubtedly beautiful cunt squeezing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to climax, ropes of cum shooting out and covering his hand; some of it managed to land on the shower wall. He takes a moment to rinse his hand off as well as wipe the cum off the shower wall before turning the shower off. 

Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom and heads into the master bedroom. He lays down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he continues to think about his cute angel, excited about seeing her on Monday. He thought his plan was ingenious; getting her closer to him under the guise of a job. He knew luring her wouldn’t be difficult, she practically eye fucked him every time they saw each other. Still, he had to offer her pay that he knew she couldn’t refuse. Then, he could take his time courting her and before she even knows it, she’ll be his.

His Mate.

“Absolutely not,” your father says to you sternly the next morning at the table at breakfast.

“What do you mean, absolutely not? I already took the job, Dad, I’m putting in my notice tonight. He’s paying me $10 an hour! I couldn’t say no to that!”

“And have you in that house, alone with some guy we don’t even really know? I don’t think so.”

“Dad come on, he’s really nice…”

“We have plenty of retired guys in town that he could have asked.”

“Mick,” your mother tries to interject.

“For all we know, he could be some psychopath or something--”

“MICK! THAT’S ENOUGH!” your mother finally shouts at him, startling both of you.

You look over at your mother who is glaring at your father; the look on her face could have set him on fire. Your mother was always soft spoken and kind. It took a lot to get her angry, and you’ve never seen her this angry.

“In case you forgot, Mick, she is an adult. Besides, not only is that good money, that would be a good experience for her, too. Yes, we don’t really know Leon, but from the handful of times I’ve spoken to him, he seems fine. He used to work for the government for Christ’s sake. You can’t get more trustworthy than that.”

Your father lets out a loud sigh, his attention back on you, “fine… but at the first sign of trouble, you get the hell out of there, understood?”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, taking a bite out of your breakfast, “I didn’t know he used to work for the government.”

“Heard it from one of the guys at Moe’s,” your father replies, “he was some kind of special ops agent, or something. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe he can figure out what’s happening to all these hikers,” your mother suddenly says, “they still haven’t found Nate.”

“Poor kid, I hope he’s alright,” your father shakes his head, finishing up his breakfast and getting up from the table, “I’ll be in the garage, I’m going to get that car finished up today even if it kills me.”

You watch your father walk out of the dining room, the unmistakable sound of the door being whipped open and slamming shut following him. You and your mother finish breakfast in silence until your mother finally speaks up.

“He just wants what’s best for you. But, he needs to understand that you are a big girl now,” she lets out a sigh before continuing, “when I was your age, my father wouldn’t let me think or do anything for myself. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

You give your mother a smile, “thanks, Mom.”

Before you know it, Monday rolls around and you’re up bright and early. You were the epitome of a bundle of nerves, getting yourself ready and prettied up to ensure that not only you get there on time, but that you were presentable. 

Might as well give him something nice to look at while working, right?

It’s about a ten minute drive to Mr. Mason’s-- Leon’s house, so you make sure you’re out the door by quarter of eight to give yourself plenty of time to get there. Getting in your Chevette, you back out of the driveway and make your way there. Hemlock Drive is just on the outskirts of town, the entryway actually not too far from the gas station you had been working at. At the very end, you see it, an old ranch style home with a farmer’s porch; you guess it was probably built in the 30s. How many times had you come down here with your school friends and knocked on that front door, only to bolt when Mr. Mason came rushing out, red faced and furious as he chased the kids away. You immediately spot Leon’s motorcycle parked in the front. Over on the side of the house you see another vehicle parked: a black Jeep Wrangler with its unmistakable square headlights.

You park your car, turning off the engine to pull your keys out of the ignition, throwing them into your purse before you climb out of your car. You look down at your watch; it’s five of eight, early like you had intended. You approach the house, climbing the small set of steps, your heart pounding in your chest. You stand in front of the door, raising your trembling hand and give it a few knocks. You can hear movement inside the house and before you have time to collect yourself, Leon opens the door and you almost gasp. He’s shirtless and you can’t help but admire his built form. You force your eyes up to his, his ocean blues looking back at you as he smiles at you. 

“Good morning, sweetheart! Ready to get to work?”

Part 3

[whencyclopedia]

Sioux War Chief Gall (Eastman's Biography)

Gall (Phizi, l. c. 1840-1894) was a Hunkpapa Lakota Sioux war chief best known for his participation in the Battle of the Little Bighorn in June 1876. He was a close associate of Red Cloud (l. 1822-1909), Sitting Bull (l. c. 1837-1890), and Crazy Horse (l. c. 1840-1877) and was active in the resistance to Euro-American encroachment on Sioux lands.

He participated in raids on white settlers traveling the Bozeman Trail in the early 1860s but assumed a more prominent position beginning with Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) and continuing through the Great Sioux War of 1876-1877. Almost nothing is known of his youth except that he was an orphan, and his childhood name was Matohinsa (also given as Matohinshda, meaning "Bear-Shedding-His-Hair"). He was given his adult name (Phizi – "Man Who Goes in the Middle") in his teens after eating the gall bladder of an animal when he was hungry and later won a wrestling match against Roman Nose (Cheyenne warrior). Gall was adopted by Sitting Bull as a younger brother and trained by him as a warrior.

He was among the Sioux warriors (including Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse) who refused to sign the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 ending Red Cloud's War, continuing the resistance to US expansionist policies. At the Battle of the Little Bighorn, both of his wives and many of his children were murdered by the command under Major Marcus Reno, and he then countered Reno's charge, driving him toward the river and defeating him with the assistance of Cheyenne warriors.

When Sitting Bull retreated into the region of modern-day Canada in 1877, Gall followed, but broke with his mentor/adopted brother in 1881 and returned to the United States to surrender. He was arrested and regarded as a prisoner of war before being sent to the Standing Rock Agency reservation, where he remained the rest of his life as a farmer. He served as a judge and liaison between his people and the US government, converting to Christianity and advocating for peaceful relations with Euro-Americans, but as Eastman notes, his spirit seemed broken.

Text

One of the most important documents on Gall is the account given by Sioux author and physician Charles A. Eastman (also known as Ohiyesa, l. 1858-1939) in his Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains (1916), based on stories he had gathered on the war chief from those who had known him. Although not a first-person account, Eastman's work is regarded as more or less accurate and the closest to an authentic biography of Gall.

The following text is taken from the 1939 edition of Eastman's work, republished in 2016:

Chief Gall was one of the most aggressive leaders of the Sioux Nation in their last stand for freedom.

The westward pressure of civilization during the past three centuries has been tremendous. When our hemisphere was "discovered", it had been inhabited by the natives for untold ages, but it was held undiscovered because the original owners did not chart or advertise it. Yet some of them at least had developed ideals of life which included real liberty and equality to all men, and they did not recognize individual ownership in land or other property beyond actual necessity. It was a soul development leading to essential manhood. Under this system they brought forth some striking characters.

Gall was considered by both Indians and whites to be a most impressive type of physical manhood. From his picture you can judge of this for yourself.

Let us follow his trail. He was no tenderfoot. He never asked a soft place for himself. He always played the game according to the rules and to a finish. To be sure, like every other man, he made some mistakes, but he was an Indian and never acted the coward.

The earliest stories told of his life and doings indicate the spirit of the man in that of the boy.

When he was only about three years old, the Blackfoot band of Sioux were on their usual roving hunt, following the buffalo while living their natural happy life upon the wonderful wide prairies of the Dakotas.

It was the way of every Sioux mother to adjust her household effects on such dogs and pack ponies as she could muster from day to day, often lending one or two to accommodate some other woman whose horse or dog had died, or perhaps had been among those stampeded and carried away by a raiding band of Crow warriors. On this particular occasion, the mother of our young Sioux brave, Matohinshda, or Bear-Shedding-His-Hair (Gall's childhood name), entrusted her boy to an old Eskimo pack dog, experienced and reliable, except perhaps when unduly excited or very thirsty.

On the day of removing camp the caravan made its morning march up the Powder River. Upon the wide table-land the women were busily digging teepsinna (an edible sweetish root, much used by them) as the moving village slowly progressed. As usual at such times, the trail was wide. An old jack rabbit had waited too long in hiding. Now, finding himself almost surrounded by the mighty plains people, he sprang up suddenly, his feathery ears conspicuously erect, a dangerous challenge to the dogs and the people.

A whoop went up. Every dog accepted the challenge. Forgotten were the bundles, the kits, even the babies they were drawing or carrying. The chase was on, and the screams of the women reechoed from the opposite cliffs of the Powder, mingled with the yelps of dogs and the neighing of horses. The hand of every man was against the daring warrior, the lone Jack, and the confusion was great.

When the fleeing one cleared the mass of his enemies, he emerged with a swiftness that commanded respect and gave promise of a determined chase. Behind him, his pursuers stretched out in a thin line, first the speedy, unburdened dogs and then the travois dogs headed by the old Eskimo with his precious freight. The youthful Gall was in a travois, a basket mounted on trailing poles and harnessed to the sides of the animal.

"Hey! hey! they are gaining on him!" a warrior shouted. At this juncture two of the canines had almost nabbed their furry prey by the back. But he was too cunning for them. He dropped instantly and sent both dogs over his head, rolling and spinning, then made another flight at right angles to the first. This gave the Eskimo a chance to cut the triangle. He gained fifty yards, but being heavily handicapped, two unladen dogs passed him. The same trick was repeated by the Jack, and this time he saved himself from instant death by a double loop and was now running directly toward the crowd, followed by a dozen or more dogs. He was losing speed, but likewise his pursuers were dropping off steadily. Only the sturdy Eskimo dog held to his even gait, and behind him in the frail travois leaned forward the little Matohinshda, nude save a breech clout, his left hand holding fast the convenient tail of his dog, the right grasping firmly one of the poles of the travois. His black eyes were bulging almost out of their sockets; his long hair flowed out behind like a stream of dark water.

The Jack now ran directly toward the howling spectators, but his marvelous speed and alertness were on the wane; while on the other hand his foremost pursuer, who had taken part in hundreds of similar events, had every confidence in his own endurance. Each leap brought him nearer, fiercer and more determined. The last effort of the Jack was to lose himself in the crowd, like a fish in muddy water; but the big dog made the one needed leap with unerring aim and his teeth flashed as he caught the rabbit in viselike jaws and held him limp in air, a victor!

The people rushed up to him as he laid the victim down, and foremost among them was the frantic mother of Matohinshda, or Gall. "Michinkshe! michinkshe!" (My son! my son!) she screamed as she drew near. The boy seemed to be none the worse for his experience. "Mother!" he cried, "my dog is brave: he got the rabbit!" She snatched him off the travois, but he struggled out of her arms to look upon his dog lovingly and admiringly. Old men and boys crowded about the hero of the day, the dog, and the thoughtful grandmother of Matohinshda unharnessed him and poured some water from a parfleche water bag into a basin. "Here, my grandson, give your friend something to drink."

"How, hechetu," pronounced an old warrior no longer in active service. "This may be only an accident, an ordinary affair; but such things sometimes indicate a career. The boy has had a wonderful ride. I prophesy that he will one day hold the attention of all the people with his doings."

This is the first remembered story of the famous chief, but other boyish exploits foretold the man he was destined to be. He fought many sham battles, some successful and others not; but he was always a fierce fighter and a good loser.

Once he was engaged in a battle with snowballs. There were probably nearly a hundred boys on each side, and the rule was that every fair hit made the receiver officially dead. He must not participate further but must remain just where he was struck.

Gall's side was fast losing, and the battle was growing hotter every minute when the youthful warrior worked toward an old water hole and took up his position there. His side was soon annihilated and there were eleven men left to fight him. He was pressed close in the wash-out, and as he dodged under cover before a volley of snowballs, there suddenly emerged in his stead a huge gray wolf. His opponents fled in every direction in superstitious terror, for they thought he had been transformed into the animal. To their astonishment he came out on the farther side and ran to the line of safety, a winner!

It happened that the wolf's den had been partly covered with snow so that no one had noticed it until the yells of the boys aroused the inmate, and he beat a hasty retreat. The boys always looked upon this incident as an omen.

Gall had an amiable disposition but was quick to resent insult or injustice. This sometimes involved him in difficulties, but he seldom fought without good cause and was popular with his associates. One of his characteristics was his ability to organize, and this was a large factor in his leadership when he became a man. He was tried in many ways, and never was known to hesitate when it was a question of physical courage and endurance. He entered the public service early in life, but not until he had proved himself competent and passed all tests.

When a mere boy, he was once scouting for game in midwinter, far from camp, and was overtaken by a three days' blizzard. He was forced to abandon his horse and lie under the snow for that length of time. He afterward said he was not particularly hungry; it was thirst and stiffness from which he suffered most. One reason the Indian so loved his horse or dog was that at such times the animal would stay by him like a brother. On this occasion Gall's pony was not more than a stone's throw away when the storm subsided, and the sun shone. There was a herd of buffalo in plain sight, and the young hunter was not long in procuring a meal.

This chief's contemporaries still recall his wrestling match with the equally powerful Cheyenne boy, Roman Nose, who afterward became a chief well known to American history. It was a custom of the northwestern Indians, when two friendly tribes camped together, to establish the physical and athletic supremacy of the youth of the respective camps.

The "Che-hoo-hoo" is a wrestling game in which there may be any number on a side, but the numbers are equal. All the boys of each camp are called together by a leader chosen for the purpose and draw themselves up in line of battle; then each at a given signal attacks his opponent.

In this memorable contest, Matohinshda, or Gall, was placed opposite Roman Nose. The whole people turned out as spectators of the struggle, and the battlefield was a plateau between the two camps, in the midst of picturesque Bad Lands. There were many athletic youths present, but these two were really the Apollos of the two tribes.

In this kind of sport, it is not allowed to strike with the hand, nor catch around the neck, nor kick, nor pull by the hair. One may break away and run a few yards to get a fresh start, or clinch, or catch as catch can. When a boy is thrown and held to the ground, he is counted out. If a boy has met his superior, he may drop to the ground to escape rough handling, but it is very seldom one gives up without a full trial of strength.

It seemed almost like a real battle, so great was the enthusiasm, as the shouts of sympathizers on both sides went up in a mighty chorus. At last, all were either conquerors or subdued except Gall and Roman Nose. The pair seemed equally matched. Both were stripped to the breech clout, now tugging like two young buffalo or elk in mating time, again writhing, and twisting like serpents. At times they fought like two wild stallions, straining every muscle of arms, legs, and back in the struggle. Every now and then one was lifted off his feet for a moment, but came down planted like a tree, and after swaying to and fro soon became rigid again.

All eyes were upon the champions. Finally, either by trick or main force, Gall laid the other sprawling upon the ground and held him fast for a minute, then released him and stood erect, panting, a master youth. Shout after shout went up on the Sioux side of the camp. The mother of Roman Nose came forward and threw a superbly worked buffalo robe over Gall, whose mother returned the compliment by covering the young Cheyenne with a handsome blanket.

Undoubtedly these early contests had their influence upon our hero's career. It was his habit to appear most opportunely in a crisis, and in a striking and dramatic manner to take command of the situation. The best-known example of this is his entrance on the scene of confusion when Reno surprised the Sioux on the Little Big Horn. Many of the excitable youths, almost unarmed, rushed madly and blindly to meet the intruder, and the scene might have unnerved even an experienced warrior. It was Gall, with not a garment upon his superb body, who on his black charger dashed ahead of the boys and faced them. He stopped them on the dry creek, while the bullets of Reno's men whistled about their ears.

"Hold hard, men! Steady, we are not ready yet! Wait for more guns, more horses, and the day is yours!"

They obeyed, and in a few minutes the signal to charge was given, and Reno retreated pell mell before the onset of the Sioux.

Sitting Bull had confidence in his men so long as Gall planned and directed the attack, whether against United States soldiers or the warriors of another tribe. He was a strategist, and able in a twinkling to note and seize upon an advantage. He was really the mainstay of Sitting Bull's effective last stand. He consistently upheld his people's right to their buffalo plains and believed that they should hold the government strictly to its agreements with them. When the treaty of 1868 was disregarded, he agreed with Sitting Bull in defending the last of their once vast domain, and after the Custer battle entered Canada with his chief. They hoped to bring their lost cause before the English government and were much disappointed when they were asked to return to the United States.

Gall finally reported at Fort Peck, Montana, in 1881, and brought half of the Hunkpapa band with him, whereupon he was soon followed by Sitting Bull himself. Although they had been promised by the United States commission who went to Canada to treat with them that they would not be punished if they returned, no sooner had Gall come down than a part of his people were attacked, and in the spring they were all brought to Fort Randall and held as military prisoners. From this point they were returned to Standing Rock agency.

When "Buffalo Bill" successfully launched his first show, he made every effort to secure both Sitting Bull and Gall for his leading attractions. The military was in complete accord with him in this, for they still had grave suspicions of these two leaders. While Sitting Bull reluctantly agreed, Gall haughtily said: "I am not an animal to be exhibited before the crowd," and retired to his teepee. His spirit was much worn, and he lost strength from that time on. That superb manhood dwindled, and in a few years he died. He was a real hero of a free and natural people, a type that is never to be seen again.

Continue reading...

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

John Wick AU Pt 2

Lena's "coronation" before the High Table and its families is a lavish, stately affair. Kara has taken up the role of Lena's chief bodyguard, despite no longer being bound to the high table. She's freelance now, free to serve who she wishes-- and she chooses Lena.

The day of the ceremony, Kara watches as attendants help bathe Lena, and rub oils into her skin before robing her in an embroidered silk robe. Only when Lena is ready to undertake the rites does Kara split off to survey the safety protocols she'd ordered for the hall in which the ceremony would take place, and only when Kara is satisfied does she nod for the ceremony to commence.

Representatives of all the families, seated and not, bear witness as the great doors open, admitting Lena and her retinue, Kara first in step behind her. Lena strides down the aisle with her head high, tall and regal.

At the end of the aisle stands a padded kneeler, akin to one on which a catholic bride might pray before exchanging vows. Upon reaching the golden, velvet lined stool, Lena pauses. An attendant, Eve, steps forward, assisting Lena to disrobe.

Lena's nudity is not sexual in nature-- it is ritual vulnerability, a symbol of her trust in the families who serve and an expression of her tenuous safety as Queen of the High Table. Without an ounce of self-consciousness, Lena turns and kneels, looking up at the Harbinger who would conduct the vows-- the same who had witnessed the duel that saw the end of her brother.

The vows are simple-- does Lena accept her role as Queen, and swear to serve in the interests of the table, and families who comprise it?

Such vows had not been asked of Lex-- no monarch has ever had to. For these are Lena's vows, the first of many changes she intends to sow during her reign. A monarch should not be above the social contract that governs their community, but be part of it more than any other party.

"I will serve," Lena affirms. "I will be of service."

Vows complete, Lena bends until her chest rests atop the kneeler. Eve delicately sweeps Lena's long hair to one side, exposing the back of her neck to the cool air of the room and the gaze of everyone present.

Taking a red hot brand from the brazier behind him, the Harbinger steps beside Lena, and presses it just above the center between her shoulderblades, below the nape of her neck.

Kara sees Lena tense, long fingers gripping the tops of her thighs where they rest. She issues a single grunt of pain-- a gesture more for her audience than for herself. She has survived worse than this, but she shows them that the burden of rule is not taken lightly.

It is done.

The poker pulls away, revealing a round circle overlaid with a cross-- a gunsight. A sign that wherever she goes now, Lena will always have eyes watching her, waiting to strike should she slip.

The room erupts into cheers and applause. Kara takes the robe from Eve, and holds it while Lena threads her arms into it. She leaves it loose on her shoulders, allowing the back collar to gape so that it would leave her new brand to air.

Kara's fingers gently brush Lena's skin as she pulls away-- a silent vow that she is there, a stolid pillar of support and safety. Their eyes meets briefly as Lena turns, and Kara sees the glimmer of affection and gratitude sent her way before Lena sits in the ornate throne that is exchanged for the kneeler.

What follows is a parade of family representatives kneeling at Lena's feet, swearing fealty to her. Kara keeps a close eye on each one, ever on guard, but spies no weapons. It seems the families are as eager to witness Lena's rule as Kara is.

When the parade of fealty concludes, Lena makes her way back down the aisle and out of the hall, trailed by Kara and the rest of her attendants. Her mother Lillian is among her retinue, and Kara could swear she sees a hint of pride in the woman's chill gaze.

Once back in her chambers, Lena allows a doctor to see to the brand now gracing her skin, applying ointment but no bandage. The families would be celebrating through the night, and the mark would remain on display for all to see.

"Leave us," Lena instructs her attendants, once she's draped in a flowing gown and her hair and makeup finished. With a look from Lena, Lillian leaves as well, until only Kara remains.

And it's Kara who helps adorn Lena in her necklaces, bracelets, and rings-- all of which she knows could turn into weapons at a second's notice. Lena regards her as Kara finishes with a kiss to her royal hand.

"Kara."

Lena leans in, kissing Kara gently. "I may have sworn fealty to the families today," she continues, "but I also swear fealty to you. I will serve you-- I will be of service."

The sacred words hit Kara straight in the chest. Given freely and unprompted, it means more than Lena would ever know.

"And I you," Kara returns. She turns Lena's hand over, bringing Lena's open palm to her lips. She meets Lena's gaze, bold and unafraid of any trouble that may come their way.

"Now and forever, I am yours."

[abbygirly]

I am COMPLETELY IN LOVE with Chief Hopper (David Harbour) and I decided to put my stories here to share with you guys.

I hope you enjoy it and leave a comment if you'd like to read more!!!

Without further ado, here it's Part I!!!

PS.: Help me give a title to this story!!

Thanks!!!

-Oh my God!! You have a crush on Hopper? - Nancy asked, yelling in my ears.

We were leaving class and waiting for the bus.

-Geez, Nance. Why don't you scream louder so that maybe he'll hear you from the station?

-But, I mean... It's Jim Hopper. He could be our dad.

-You think I don't know that? It's just... I'm sick and tired of hanging out with guys like Steve. They're so immature and stupid. I can't seem to find someone that makes me feel the way Hopper does. He's so manly and sexy, I can't explain. I feel so weak when he's around… it's ridiculous, I know.

-What are you going to do about it? It's not like you can go straight to him and tell him that...

I sighed.

-That's why I didn't want to make a big deal out of this. It's just a crush. It'll never be anything more. Besides he's friends with my dad, so he would never make a move even if he wanted to.

-We're going to find you a great guy that's gonna make you forget all about Chief Hopper.

Doubtful, I thought to myself.

I knew it was ridiculous having a crush on Chief Jim Hopper. Especially because I was still a virgin. He's much older and so much more experienced. I'm sure he likes women who know how to behave with a man like him. But I wanted to know how it would feel to be really desired and I wanted to learn how to please him, but at the same time, what if he laughed at me? I would never get over it and probably get traumatized for the rest of my life.

I couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to be in chief Hopper's arms, his hard body against mine. His big hands on me, touching and caressing me.

My curiosity always gets the better of me. Whenever I see him, my heart races and I get soaking wet. I start thinking about everything I'd like him to do to me. Like spank my ass and make me gag on his hard shaft. I would love to drool all over him and take all his cum in my mouth.

Fucking chief Hopper!

I was starting to get soaking wet and dying to relieve myself when I got home. I shut the door behind me and started going up the stairs when I heard male voices in the kitchen.

-Dad? - I yelled and went straight to the kitchen, only to see Chief Hopper standing in the middle of the room with my dad. He was in his usual uniform, which made him look even more irresistible, if that's even possible. His eyes trailed down my body and I shivered.

-Hey, there she is! - Hopper said, spreading his arms so he could give me a hug.

This isn't happening!!, I thought, as my knees got weaker as he held me in his arms. I fucking love his bear hugs, even though I know he probably still sees me as a young girl. His smell was just.. pure fucking Hopper scent, so manly and sexy, I almost orgasmed right there.

When he let me go, I felt a sting on my chest, like a voice saying: he'll never want you.

-How was school? - dad asked, but all I could think about was tearing my clothes off so Hopper could fuck me right there.

-Abby, I asked you a question.

-Oh… it was… so good… - I answered, practically moaning and Hopper stared, with a half grin on his face and he winked at me. I had to bite my lower lip to stop from saying: For fuck's sake, Hopper. Fuck me now!!

I couldn't. Not yet. Not when my dad is around.

But I wasn't going to give up that easily. There was nothing I wouldn't do to make him mine.

... TO BE CONTINUED.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

chapter 3, coming tomorrow.

He’s setting down the casket. They stand there a moment, each of them taking a silent moment with her, as though there’s nobody else here. I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. I have the sudden, hysterical urge to run towards the casket, not away from it, and fling myself across it, sobbing uncontrollably, until they have to drag me away, kicking and screaming. I could do that. There’s nothing but decorum stopping me. I think about how insane it is that we have to behave on days like today. Someone has died, but we care more about being respectable than we do about feeling the loss, respecting the loss. It just seems backwards to me. If ever there was a day to lose control, it’s today.

As I watch the boys walk away from her, I see Aaron's hand trail off the corner of the casket, as though he can't bear to let go.

taglist; @hopefulfangirl24 @thebewingedjewelcat @platypus-whit-boots @luhwithah @cvtsbutcut3 @acetheticlytired @ccmattis-22 @duchessas @scorpiofangirl1109 @natasha-barton @lil-koala @themetaphorgirl @sequinsmile-x @emobabeyy @my-mummy-dust @section-chief-prentiss @canyouhearmeyet

[rionas-path]

Chapter 1

The Trial of a Goddess

I. A figure great; about to fall. The air stands still on this night. In age primordial. More ancients cluster round the Queen. Whose gaze beset; now barely vibrant. Her glory demeaned. Skin pale as snow, beyond her sacred hue. Her wounds now bite. Throughout the Outerworld, echoes and spirits rage with tales, Hearsay or rumour. How does she fall? The Scheming Witch now trails The path of defeat. For now, she still stands before facing the light. What shall her victor’s verdict be? What dest’ny do they invite?

II. “Thy life forfeit for all thy sins!” bellowed the voice of Krikashe. “Led us astray have thee, Aurianne! Both thee and thy sister shall pay The toll of folly, of avarice: gaze at thine array Of crimes. Thou’st turned the Outerworld into a desert of ash!” The Shrewd Baron with blade in hand, now spoke to all who’d attend: “Her immortal soul I’ll give to thee, who’d renounce thy descent.” All suitors came with bountiful claims, and oft they would clash. None other as strong as Chief Audar, who won the soul in a flash!

III. With haste the Grandstand begins to crumble as the Sisters fall. The chief with child in arms awaits the arrival of one. A voice inside his head now speaks. Her tone is grand but stunned, She speaks of the sky, sea, land, of wind and flow. An attempt to enthral Her host’s mind before she’s even born into this life. But the chief knows one does not trust a goddess with lies so rife. She finally asks: “To whom would I serve and into their fate befall?” The chief looks down t’wards his child: “Ríona is what your host you’ll call!”

IV. The flow began to seep from every crevice on her skin. Slowly yet surely, her husk would be filled by a spirit guest. The goddess dipped and weaved her soul with the child now blessed By all her gifts. The host would bear the weight of their godly twin. Before all eyes the goddess’ frame would burn to crisp and perish, And in her wake, she made herself a promise so nightmarish That even the most courageous souls would not think to change or trade-in Their life for a chance at the powers of a god. Such roads all led to sin.

V. “Dear little one, I’ve come to make my presence recognized!” “I appear to thee as the mightiest. My knowledge wide in range And my wisdom clear!” exclaimed the goddess proudly with an estranged Demeanour about her. The void remained empty and sized Beyond the grasp of even the divine. But not a sound was spoken in return; now she knew where her fate was bound. The fires and waters would fight with grace but only be chastised And struggle till the dusk of light yet be by time revised.

VI. And though she’d rage, and though she’d scream into the barren void No word was spoken in return. She’d wait, and wait, and wait For anyone to answer back and finally take the bait. But after months of silent torture, the goddess was left devoid. Despite the poise she did possess, when sounds came from the spirit, She did rejoice and whispered back, though words still incoherent. “Rest now little one, let me, mighty Aurianne avoid Any and all troubles that may get both of us destroyed”

[mysyerious]

CIGARETTES & DIOR 4

PREVIOUS | NEXT

note: for anyone who's read the previous 3 chapters before chapter 4 was released, I'm currently rewriting them so some time this week they'll be updated!

beta read by the darling @raelwrites

—enemies (?) steve harrington X reader, follows along with 'the bathtub'

[#: @fixtionlover + anyone else who'd like to be tagged let me know]

 It only took a handful of minutes for Joyce Byers to show up. Though you’re not surprised. If you found out your child was at the police station, was arrested, you were sure you would be arrested too with how fast you’d drive.

 During those minutes, you stared at Nancy and Jonathan. You couldn’t help but entertain the ideas brewing in your head.

 But what if there was something going on between the pair. I mean, one look at them now and you’d figure they’d been together for months if you didn’t know better.

 Maybe you didn’t know better. If Steve was so panicked he’d come to you, well. But the more you think, the more you realise you’d been around the two most all times they had interacted, to your knowledge at least. If anything was going on, surely, you’d have noticed, right?

 Joyce knocks you out of your head when she arrives. “Hey. Jonathan? Jesus, what… what happened? Why is he wearing handcuffs?”

 “Well, your boy assaulted a police officer. That’s why,” one of the officers answered.

 Joyce wasn’t happy. “Take them off.”

 “I am afraid I cannot do that.”

 Joyce wasn’t happy at all. “Take them off!”

 “You heard her. Take ‘em off.” Hopper backs Joyce. You muffle a laugh. You’re pretty sure you’d find this exact dialogue in a shitty porno.

 “Chief, I get that everyone’s emotional here, but there’s something you need to see.” That doesn’t set you on edge, not at all.

 The box that the officers deposit on the desk 5 minutes later does, however. The rattle of ammo boxes, a gun, a fucking bear trap.

 “What is this?” Joyce questions, disbelief in her voice, as she sifts through the contents.

 “Why don’t you ask your son? We found it in his car.” Hopper replies, walking closer to the desk. You look over at Nancy with a confused furrow to your brow. She looks away.

 “Why are you going through my car?” Jonathan accuses.

Hopper leans over to stare at Jonathan directly. “Is that really the question you should be asking right now?” he moves back. “I wanna see you in my office.”

 “You won’t believe me.”

 “Why don’t you give me a try?”

 It seems, however, the other Hawkins residents had been going through similar frights as you had, because Hopper doesn’t even look that confused when he looks at the super-sized photograph of the monster.

 “You say blood draws this thing?”

 “We don’t know,” Jonathan replies.

 “It’s just a theory, Barb— she cut herself that night, we think she must’ve bled and attracted it,” Nancy continues, and you hadn’t heard about this theory before so you’re definitely missing something.

 Joyce throws Jonathan a look and the pair stand up. You quickly inhabit Jonathan’s abandoned seat next to Nancy.

You don’t even wait for the door to close behind Hopper before you ask, “Right. Fill me in, please? Because what’s up with that box o’ horrors back there?”

“When— when you were with Steve… me and Jonathan, we went into the woods…” she trails off, quiet, and you can feel your stomach twist.

 “Oh my god— are you okay? What happened? You should’ve come found me! or, like, called at least.”

 “Yeah— yeah, I am now… it’s alright. Jonathan took me home, I— sorry, that I didn’t call. Jonathan— we…” When Nancy pauses, your throat tightens. That was when Steve saw them together, wasn’t it?

 “You, you didn’t… like, get with him, did you? You had all night to ring, you know.”

 “What? No! no, no, no…—” Nancy grabs your hands. “I just, well, I— I saw… it, that, that thing— the monster in the photo.” She’s whispering now, voice shaking along with her hands.

 “And— and you’re okay now?”

 “I think so… Jonathan— he, he stayed with me, made sure I was okay. It just— calling you just slipped my mind, I’m sorry.” Your stomach drops a little.

 You pull her into a hug. “It’s okay, ‘m glad you’re ok, at least. It’s okay.” You whisper into her hair.

 If you say it enough, it might even come true.

 Nancy just holds on tighter.

 When Hopper fails to talk you into going home, unable to disagree with the fact that you’d already seen too much to not involve yourself, and when you follow Nancy into the backseat next to Jonathan, you had resigned yourself to the fate of never having a normal life again.

 Between interacting with Steve and coming out the other side unscathed and learning about government conspiracies and monsters in Hawkins, you’re not actually sure which surprises you more.

 “Do you have any idea where he might have gone to?” Hopper throws the question out, but you can barely keep track of where Nancy is these days, much less her kid brother.

 “No, I don’t.” Neither can Nancy, it seems.

 “I need you to think.”

 “I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean, lately…”

 Joyce tries this time, attempts to prompt Nancy, “Is there any place that your… your parents don’t know about that he might go?”

 Again, Nancy can’t answer.

 You’re glad that your family isn’t as active in your life as other peoples are. The constant fear that something might happen to your friends is enough to have you on edge. If you had to factor in family? Unimaginable.

 “I might,” Jonathan says, “I don’t know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him.”

 “And how’d you figure that?” you ask.

 “Walkie-talkies. Will had one. I can bet Mike has his with him too, wherever he is.”

 Hopper pulls up to the Byers’ residence and before the car can even come to a full stop, Nancy and Jonathan have already hopped out. You stumble along with them and almost trip over your feet when you walk through the front door.

 Furniture askew, books everywhere, lights hanging like vines.

 “Don’t you think it’s a little early for christmas décor, guys?”

 Nancy elbows you but she looks just as surprised.

 When the group piles into Will’s room, you’re greeted by even more lamps and general disorder. Somehow, Joyce manages to find the walkie-talkie.

Nancy takes it from her instantly, sitting on the bed next to Joyce and turning the walkie on. “Mike, are you there? Mike? Mike, it’s me, Nancy.”

 Static. You hold your breath.

 “Mike, are you there? Answer. Mike, we need you to answer. This is an emergency, Mike. Do you copy? I need you to answer.”

 Static. You gnaw at your lip.

 “We need to know that you’re there, Mike.”

Static. You clench your eyes shut.

 Hopper grabs the walkie from Nance. “Listen, kid, this is the chief. If you’re there, pick up.”

 Static. Your hands shake.

 “We know you’re in trouble and we know about the girl. We can protect you; we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over.”

 Static. Your heart sinks.

 “Yeah, I copy.” The voice of Mike Wheeler cuts through the static. “It’s Mike. I’m here. We’re here.”

  You relax into the wall, boneless in relief.

 “What’s taking so long?” you break the silence. “They should be back by now, right?” your leg bounces. It was night, Hopper had left with the daylight.

 Suddenly, car lights flood the driveway and tires crackle on the gravel.

 The four of you pile outside after a beat, and Nancy jogs to hug her brother. “Mike. Oh, my god. Mike!” he stands, a little perplexed. “I was so worried about you.”

 “Yeah, uh… me, too,” Mike says, though it’s not very convincing.

 “Is that my dress?” When Nancy asks, you take in the remaining faces. Lucas and Dustin, obviously. But the girl you don’t recognise. She must be who everyone kept referring to, then.

 When everyone is seated at the table and introduced to each other, Mike starts to draw on a sheet of paper.

 “Okay, so, in this example, we’re the acrobat. Will and Barbara, and that monster, they’re this flea. And this is the upside down, where will is hiding.” He flips the paper so that everyone can see. “Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space.”

 “A gate.” Dustin elaborates.

 “That we tracked to Hawkins lab.” Lucas continues.

 “With our compasses.” When Dusting is met with blank faces, he explains, “okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field. And that can change the direction of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper asks.

El answers, “Yes.” It’s the first time she’s spoken since arriving.

 “Near a large water tank?”

 “Yes.”

 You look over to Hopper, baffled. “How do you know all that?”

 “He’s seen it,” Mike answers.

 “I—is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this—” Joyce croaks out, and you can’t begin to imagine how tough it must be. To know Will is alive, but still be unable to reach him.

 “The upside down,” El finished.

 “Down, yeah.”

 El nods.

 “And— and Barb? Barbara, can you find her too?” Nancy asks.

 El smiles.

 The walkie-talkie is placed on the table in front of El.

 Static. You stay silent, watchful.

 The lights flicker.

 El turns looks out at everyone, tears in her eyes. You bow your head.

 “I’m sorry.”

 The chair scrapes obnoxiously when you stand.

 Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

 “W-what’s wrong? What hap— what happened?” Joyce asks.

 “I can’t find them.” El starts to cry, and you can feel your own eyes water.

 “So that’s it then, huh?” You sniffle, “nothing else we can do?” your eyes follow El as she’s shown the bathroom.

 “Uh— well, —” Mike calls your name, draws your attention, “not exactly. Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak.”

 “The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets,” Dustin continues.

 “Like, she flipped the van earlier,” Lucas says.

 “It was awesome.”

 “But she’s drained,” Mike explains.

 “Like a bad battery,” Lucas adds.

 “Is there no way to recharge that battery?” you ask.

 “No, we just have to wait and try again,” Mike answers.

 “Well, how long?” Nancy asks before you can.

 “I don’t know.”

“The bath,” El says, making both you and Joyce jump at her quiet appearance. “I can find them. In the bath.”

 Sometimes, you were glad for the involvement of police. With the speed that the car was going to reach Hawkins Middle School, you were sure had any cops caught you, you would’ve been pulled over.

 Having Hopper around made breaking laws quite fun.

 You were divided into little groups, each having a different task. Hopper and Jonathan went to get the salt; Mike, and Nancy the hose pipes; Joyce was with El getting her ready, and you were hauling a heavy tied up swimming pool across the floor of the gym with Dustin and Lucas.

 When you had managed to roll the pool to the centre of the court, you went about untying it and spreading it out.

 “Come on. It’s upside down,” Dustin says. You laugh, otherwise you might cry again.

 “No, this way.” Lucas twist and unravels his side of the pool.

 “How does this even work?”

 “Try that side.”

 “Son of a bitch.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, whirling around to face Dustin, “watch the language, teeny bopper. You’re like 10, how do you even know that?”

 “I’m 12!”

 “Try that side.” Lucas interrupts your argument. “Pull it back. Pull it back.”

 “I am!”

 “One, two, three.” At three, you let go of the pool sides and the thing collapses.

 “Shit!” both you and Dusting shout. You say nothing about that.

 “I’m guessing it’ll stay up when filled, right?” you grab on the pool sides once more. “I mean, it’s— it’s gotta. If this doesn’t work…” you trail off, huffing when the pool once again collapses in on itself. “There’s always the actual swimming pool,” you mutter dejectedly.

 You three go back to spreading the pool, lifting the sides, hoping.

 “Aha! We did it— step back, step back,” Dustin calls, and the doors open to Nancy and Mike wheeling in the hose pipes, followed by Hopper and Jonathan with the salt, and Joyce with El.

 You move over to Dustin as Mike drops two ends of hose into the pool, and as water starts pouring in, you clap Dustin on the back lightly. “You’re a genius.”

 “Thanks, —” he says your name, “but without Mr. Clarke, we wouldn’t have known how to do any of this.”

 You grin. “But without your idea we would still be at the Byers’, grasping at straws.”

 Dustin grins back.

 “Colder!” Lucas shouts, holding the thermometer in the steadily rising water. “Warmer!” he shouts again. “Right there!” and the water stops.

 Once the temperature was fixed, Hopper and Jonathan begin to cut open the bags of de-icing salt, pouring them one by one into the pool.

 “How much was it we needed?” you ask Dustin.

 “Hold on,” Dustin says, crouching to open the carton of eggs by his side. When he places one in the water and it sinks, he calls out, “’Till the egg floats.”

 With that, you walk over to the bags and grab one, tearing it open with the knife Hopper passes you over the pool, throwing the empty bag into the pile.

 When you look over at Dusting and see that the egg he placed in the water bobbed on the surface of the pool, you drop the salt bag you had picked up with a sigh of relief.

 The walkie-talkie is set up on the trolley.

 Static.

 El takes her socks off and Joyce hands her duct taped goggles, guiding the girl into the pool when she puts them on.

 Almost the second she lays down and floats, the lights in the hall begin to flicker and then go out.

 Static.

 El’s breathing starts to quicken, and the lights flicker once again.

 “What’s going on?” Nancy whispers, looking around.

 “I don’t know,” Mike answers.

 “Is Barb, okay?” You ask, “is she okay?” you tighten your hold on Dustin’s shoulder, hands shaking.

 “Gone. Gone. Gone.” El repeats. You’re frozen still.

 Static.

 Joyce attempts to comfort her but she continues to repeat ‘gone’. With every agonising repetition of the word, you can feel your face slacken more, shoulders drop, hands quiver.

 “Will?” El asks, and you can only just hear her. Joyce’s words don’t register through the buzzing in your ears.

 “Hurry.” Comes from the walkie-talkie.

 El sits up in a panic. Everyone jumps back, and you quickly remove your grip from Dustin’s shoulder when the boy moves.

 “I’ve got you,” Joyce comforts El, hugging her into her chest. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you. I got you, honey. You did so good.” You sort of feel like you might need a Joyce hug next.

 You don’t get a hug.

 After a moment of reconciliation and sharing of information, you follow Nancy to the far wall. Reclining on the cold bench by the mural, counting the blemishes in the ceiling as you wrap your mind around what you witnessed. Nancy sits by your feet.

 When the door slams, you startle and look over to see Jonathan coming closer. He sits next to Nancy. You look back to the ceiling.

 “We have to go back to the station.” You hear Nancy say. “Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait. That thing is still in there. And we can’t just sit here and let it get them, too. We can’t.”

 “You still wanna try it out?” Jonathan asks.

 “I wanna finish what we started. I want to kill it.”

[alienisticxo]

Before the Fever - Chapter Three

{Master Chief x Reader series - TV based}

{A╱N} This came out on AO3 a month or so ago, but as I’m gearing up to finally post chapter four, I’m finally getting around to posting it here to be caught up across both platforms!

{gif by maschinen-mensch}

Enjoy! ♡

Chapter Three - Chief, We Have Company

Air filled my lungs as though I hadn’t taken a breath in years. My point of view shifted before me in what felt like seconds, and I couldn't quite grasp what was happening. I felt detached and complete simultaneously, but the shock of what I’d just experienced left me in a heap on the floor, my already mangled shoulder smushed against the table. I wasn’t sure how I ended up there, my brain still processing the fact that I had just been standing, reaching, about to run…

Had I fainted? Was I dead?

My ears were ringing, my eyes were still open, entirely too focused and yet completely unaware. The world around me came back to life in a disconnected haze, a slow descent from wherever I’d shifted to.

Everything was a blur, muted from the sudden chaos that seemed to ensue before a wave of unknown serenity washed over me. I wasn’t able get a hold on whatever reality I was in now, I could only recall what I’d just seen– where I’d just been. I found myself hung up on how truly striking the vision was, possibly the prettiest environment I’d ever seen.

There was a sense of tranquility that seemed otherworldly in and of itself despite our standing in the expanse of the galaxy. Where there were so many planets and belts to explore, this held something different, something so much greater than the average planet. There was green grass, a warm climate, blue sky..

It all seemed to go on infinitely.

Looking up for what felt like the split second I stood there among the meadow, I noticed something more, something larger— what looked like a ring stretched above me with a brilliance that I wouldn’t have believed if I didn’t see it for myself.

It wasn’t like the rings on my home planet, not even close.

If I was honest, I wasn’t even sure anything I’d just seen had been real at all.

But so quickly did my heart pull me toward the mysterious field again. I felt deeply compelled to return to wherever this mystifying atmosphere was, as soon as I possibly could.

I tried to move my body, to pick myself up off of the floor, but my limbs felt weak, my mind bogged down with both the desire to go back and the need to wake up again. Blinking a few times in an attempt to further bring myself back to consciousness, my eyes felt heavy, as though they wouldn’t allow me to come back to Rubble just yet.

Once I gained my bearings again, I saw him, on one knee, head lifting slowly to meet my dazed stare through the shielded helmet he wore. A hand was steadying his large frame on the floor, and he looked far more poised and collected than I did still slumped against the table. Trying to compose myself, I shook my head slightly, my half-lidded gaze trailing around the room before landing back on the Spartan.

A breath escaped me before I could speak.

“What.. What was that?” was all I could ask, my voice seeming to crash around us in the quiet despite the softness I spoke with.

But the soldier remained quiet, not saying a word to me as he stood up. I wondered if he’d seen the same thing I did, or if I’d just been thrown into some kind of stupor. Maybe it was a dream– maybe he’d knocked me out and it was simply too quick and too hard for me to realize it.

His lack of response made me feel insane, like I’d suddenly become a victim of my own mind in those few seconds it seemed like I was in another dimension entirely. I tried to think of what else I’d seen, but the vision faded quickly with each new second of lucidity.

———

I saw her there, but turned around with her face to the sky, she didn’t see me. It wasn’t long enough for either of us to truly examine what we’d seen, to acknowledge each other’s presence in the vastness of the realm. The previous times I’d laid hands on The Artifact before, the visions I had weren’t nearly as clear. They felt like memories resurfacing, faded truths uncovered.

This girl seemed to take not only herself to this new world, but myself, as well. There were no memories, no sensations of anxiety or confusion. It was vivid, awe-striking. I felt glad to have removed the pellet, to be able to absorb what I could in those few short seconds.

But it was all still unknown. Somehow, something within her, within me, brought us to it. Halsey needed to know. This could be the breakthrough she’d been looking for. Maybe she could figure it out further– explain what was going on.

Who was she, who was I, how we were intertwined over this object?

Cortana snapped me out of my thoughts, speaking to me directly.

“I’m running a systems check, but everything seems to be… nominal. Your levels are completely normal– perfect, actually! Not like last time at all. Honestly, I was pretty sure you weren’t going to make it, and that all of this would end up futile.”

“Thanks, Cortana,” I spoke aloud, the sarcasm thick in my voice.

“She seems to have triggered something within The Artifact.. Perhaps we should bring her with us. Doctor Halsey might be interested to know that there’s something more going on here.”

I thought about it. She was probably correct. I had enough trouble with Kwan Ha on the venture from Madrigal. Just when I thought I had that taken care of, I pick up another tourist.

Great.

———

“Cortana?” I repeated in question, brow furrowed.

He certainly was strange. If the holographic vision of a woman was Cortana, I wondered why he was talking to her without her actually being present the way she was before.

He still didn’t respond to me, seemingly deep in thought as I watched him regain his composure and move from his spot, taking the last couple of steps toward the table. I could only look up at him, defeated for the moment. I was still too taken by what I’d seen, almost exhausted, though still extremely intrigued– more so now than I was before.

He closed the case around the object again, fingers careful not to touch it despite the thick gloves he was clad with. I quickly perked up. I hadn’t been able to see just what was in the case, and I really had no idea what precious treasure I almost had in my own possession.

Deciding it was probably better that way now, I let my gaze drift back to the window that held the stars in view. It wouldn’t hurt as much to think about the loss and the embarrassment of being caught so easily if I didn’t know what I was missing out on. What did I really expect? I should’ve been lucky I wasn’t being restrained and taken back to a UNSC base immediately.

Easing up again, I shifted to stand up in turn. The locks clicked and the titanium-covered Chief took the handle into his hand once more and turned towards the center of the room. Before I could ground my feet again, the blue flecks of light reappeared, quicker this time, revealing the interesting woman once more.

“Allow me to introduce myself, {Y/N}. I’m Cortana.”

The smile on her face was pleasant, her stance confident yet welcoming. I couldn’t help but silently gawk for a few seconds as I really got a better look at her. There wasn’t a chance for that before, I was too terrified for my life.

At a better glance, it was quite apparent that I had never seen anything like her: she seemed to run a range of familiarity and emotion. Where did she come from? Who was she? I had so many questions, but all I could manage was:

”How do you know my name?”

She seemed to be amused by my question.

“I’m a form of artificial intelligence designed to aid The Master Chief in and out of battle. In other words, if I didn’t know about you, I wouldn’t be doing my job,” she responded.

I paused. Everything seemed so easy, too easy. No one was rushing to take me into any kind of custody. From what I saw, it looked like the Spartan was completely preoccupied with the briefcase and getting it as far away from me as possible.

“So… You’re not going to kill me, then?” I asked them with narrowed eyes, almost in shock.

I had, after all, attempted to steal UNSC property, from a war machine, with no escape plan, and really no reason other than copping a little currency from whatever the item might’ve ended up being.

“No,” was all he said gruffly through the system in his helmet, and I turned to Cortana again.

“He’s not a man of many words,” she smiled in my direction, hands behind her back.

I knew I shouldn’t have continued, but curiosity got the better of me. These people were supposed to be killing machines, uncaring of anyone except themselves, their UNSC comrades, and whatever mission they were on. Letting me go seemed… against some kind of protocol.

“Why?“ I pressed directly toward the Spartan.

I really was on a roll tonight, wasn’t I? I should’ve left well enough alone. Anyone would’ve thought I had a death wish.

But I heard an exasperated breath escape him as he turned his head in my direction to speak, his body unmoving, still facing Cortana. His helmet caught the light of the stars in the window, the dark green seeming to gleam.

“Because you’re coming with us,” he stated as plainly as if I’d asked him the weather, lifting the case from its spot and bringing it back down to its rightful place at his side.

Ah. There it was. I knew I shouldn’t have asked.

“Wait, what?” I asked incredulously, still somehow surprised even though I was expecting this.

I backed up around the side of the table, eyeing them both with caution. “I am not going to be a willing participant in whatever this is.”

“Actually,” Cortana piped up, “you don’t have to be. Due to your sticky fingers, this is the proper course of action. The Master Chief was simply being polite.”

“Polite,” I repeated through an abrupt laugh, unable to believe it.

She almost had me for a second. I’d almost thought she was nice, maybe even on my side in some strange way. I didn’t want to believe someone… some thing, so lovely might be so cruel. Then again, I remembered just who I was dealing with. Cortana was a part of them. A part of him. A stranger with a penchant for stealing what looked like expensive items meant less than nothing to either of them.

“You can have your thing, okay?” I offered as though anyone thought I had any potential of taking it back at all. “I don’t want it. Just let me go.”

It felt like a lie, though. I wanted it. If the item in the briefcase was what sent me to my new world, I wanted to see what it had done to me, where it had taken me. All so suddenly I was wrapped up in a frightening addiction to the serenity it offered, the new and intriguing mysticism it awakened. I wanted to see the beautiful place again, to experience the tranquility I was enveloped in there.

But I also didn’t want to be held hostage by the UNSC or their Spartans. As The Master Chief stepped closer to me, it was clear that I didn’t have a choice anymore. I was as good as military property. All of the things I’d heard from The Rubble's inhabitants were about to be inflicted on me, no longer just horror stories told around street fires.

“What a lesson I’ve learned,” I began, a poor attempt to talk my way out of it. Was I guilting him? As if they had consciences.. “You bully me into losing my means of eating, and I sit here and allow it.”

The Spartan stopped then, staring at me for a moment before lifting his hands and gripping his helmet, the case still hanging in his grasp. In one swift movement, he removed the bulky metal from his head with a hiss and brought it down again.

There was no need to wonder if he was looking me dead in the eye or not anymore. He most certainly was.

“This isn't about learning a lesson.”

The moment he’d revealed his face, I couldn’t help but stare. He hadn’t been wearing the helmet when I stole “The Artifact,” but I didn’t bother to study him the way I felt compelled to now. My line of sight fell on his eyes, still seeming light in the darkness— his nose, his jaw, his lips…

Had he been this handsome in the alley? Am I finally losing my mind? I tried to shake off the thought without physically moving my head.

“My current mission is to bring the item back to the UNSC. The quicker it’s there, the quicker… We can figure out what it does. You’ve done something with it, something I believe would be useful in our research.”

It sounded like he had something more to say, like he was holding back. I took note of the way his voice sounded, how it held a masculine gruffness but still remained something akin to soft. It almost felt as though he was trying to convince himself, too.

"Done something to it..?" I trailed off, unsure of what he was talking about.

It was in the case, in his hand, seemingly unharmed. What had I really done?

“The fact that you stole it is something else entirely, and will be dealt with accordingly by the appropriate personnel once we’ve arrived.”

I was out of ideas to get myself out of the situation I found myself in all over again. Astra popped into my head. She would’ve charmed her way right out of this, we would’ve been walking out of here with smiles on our faces, maybe even the briefcase in hand! I terribly regretted leaving her behind, trying to keep her safe. It seemed she’d been the one keeping me safe the entire time. My lips parted to speak, but nothing came out.

“I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you,” he breathed again before taking a step closer to me.

“If you would let me explain—“ Cortana began again.

But her face quickly fell, a look of concern replacing her content features before she spoke up once more.

“Chief, we have company,” she stated with a seriousness I hadn’t heard before, and disappeared again.

His stance shifted as a loud roar replaced the silence around our little conversation. The Master Chief was suddenly extremely unconcerned with me as he threw his helmet back on, prepping for what was to come.

I looked around inside, searching the dark corners and peering down the hallway, nose scrunched at the noise. Without another moment to think, the door was being blown off, like locking it prior had been a fool’s task. I shrieked as plasma flew across the room, the gurgling sounds of a foreign tongue that I knew to be Sangheili shouting into the space that was so quiet just moments ago.

The Covenant...

Though they'd been mentioned around, though the language had been passed on to others and the tales told, I was almost shocked to see them for myself; shocked to know that they weren't just a horror story made up as some excuse for the UNSC to take over other planets. The last place anyone had heard of their appearance was Madrigal, but no one knew for sure. Judging by The Master Chief's lack of response to my earlier accusation, I now thoroughly believed what we'd all heard was true after all.

Fight or flight kicked in all over again, and my feet moved on autopilot, carrying me across the large sitting area and toward the hallway. I dodged the rift the best I could as it made its way further into the house with haste. Despite my sheer terror, I focused on finding an exit route.

Hiding seemed to be the only viable option as the other entrance and exit points were now blocked with alien forces. There had to have been somewhere I could hide out undetected.. I didn’t stand a chance against the plasma throwing beings.

It was hide and hide well, or perish. That seemed to be the theme of my evening.

Avoiding the decor that had been pulled from the walls and shoved off of larger pieces of furniture, I noticed in the few glances I took backwards that The Covenant was doing exactly what I thought they were going to do when I’d given The Master Chief a piece of my mind earlier: Fight with the Spartan. I supposed I should’ve counted my lucky stars that they weren't on another asteroid, destroying the majority of the residents who lived there instead.

The Sangheili seemed to be after the case he held onto as though his life depended on it— which it might’ve, now. One by one, he was bringing down the alienistic figures that were impossibly much larger than himself with ease. It wasn’t until he picked up one of their own weapons that the opposing side was cut down considerably, each body falling with a shriek in a puddle of purple.

But no matter how many times it seemed like he was making some headway, another group poured in to join the battle.

The stars seemed to pour into the room as I tried to keep away from the main event, and in one large heap, the ceiling collapsed inward. How we weren’t sucked into the abyss, I wasn’t sure. Some kind of atmospheric technology, I decided in a split second. It all felt so far beyond me, so much bigger than I could ever comprehend. I was just a girl from Rubble caught up in a pissing contest between the galaxy's “protector” and the universe's most wanted.

Reaching my destination, my trembling hand gripped onto the corner of the room at the end of the hall, ducking as I heard another loud blast ring through the chaos. I was almost home free, safe to find a spot to wait the disaster out, to escape the Spartan and his foes.

While nowhere was truly safe in this playing field, some kind of concealment was better than nothing. Just before I crossed the threshold, just before I could finally breathe a little, something grabbed my ankle with a painful tightness.

“Shit!” I screamed without thinking, tripping forward past the door, my body falling halfway into the room.

All that crossed my mind then was my failure. So close, but so far, watching as the furniture ahead of me seemed to shrink with each hard pull of my leg. This was it. I couldn’t talk or walk my way out of this one.

My heart painfully pounded in my chest with pure shock and fear, like accidentally missing a step on a set of stairs. I screamed again, fingers spreading out against the flooring, my nails surely leaving sharp marks in a manic attempt to find something, anything to keep me grounded. I needed to pull myself away from whoever, whatever had it’s paws on me— to keep me from meeting the fate I thought I was so close to avoiding so well. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder, not wanting to face the harsh reality of my mortality. I’d played enough games this evening.

Still, my eyes grew damp as I was dragged backwards and upwards with ease, right into the clutches of a being that seemed like an infamous fable. It growled at me while I dangled in its grip. My weight unfazed the beast, as though I were nothing more than a child’s toy or fragile prey to play with. This, I decided without needing to think too much, was far more frightening than any Master Chief.

I struggled against the alien, its frame tall and overpowering, allowing me to be no match for it. Still I tried nonetheless, kicking and squirming with every ounce of adrenaline I had left in hopes of making some kind of contact. I glanced over at the scene just feet away from me, the Spartan fighting alone, knocking hoards of their kind down like dominoes, swift movements making it all look easier than it probably was.

It wasn’t until I noticed a much larger Covenant soldier, what I recognized from other’s accounts to be an Elite, coming straight for him with a weapon that looked two sizes too big that my own voice escaped my throat without my brain signaling it to.

“No!” I screamed in his direction, trying with no avail to break free of the claws that had me. “Look out!”

But the nanosecond The Master Chief turned toward the Elite, he deftly lifted a glowing shield, taking the brunt of the hit and being flung back towards the wall. The case clattered to the floor, sliding across the room in the opposite direction. It was then that the alien stepped up to him, examining his limp body with an intelligible battle cry before turning toward me with a horrifying glint in his eye.

The creature that held me pointed some kind of device in my direction, watching as the end opened up and glowed brilliantly. I was waiting for a devastating blow, a brain-frying shock, the connection that would bring me out of this world for good— but it never came. Instead, I continued to resist; anxious, but still maybe a bit hopeful to be set free if they didn’t see what they wanted from me.

It all happened too quickly then— the Elite scooped up the case and rushed back in my direction, shouting at its comrade that held me. I was gripped with terror, the blood in my veins coursing through me faster than it had when I’d stolen the stupid thing to begin with. All reservations and prior notions melted away as I fought for my life. If The Covenant got ahold of me, surely whatever lay ahead would be far worse than anything I could’ve faced with the UNSC.

This was definitely one of those ‘I should’ve stayed home’ moments. While I didn’t exactly have a home, the place I had been staying sounded a lot better than where I currently was, and even better than where I was headed.

But I couldn’t shake the horror I was laced with. I needed help, my desire to survive the situation superseding anything else.

“Chief!” I finally shrieked, my voice faintly cracking with emotion as I tried to reach out for him, uncaring now of what I thought of him and where his loyalties stood. If I had any chance at surviving this now, it would be by his hand.

After all, he was humanity’s savior, and I was a human.

I panicked, desperate to reach him, desperate for him to hear me through the daze he still seemed to be in, limp against the wall. I hoped with everything I had left that he was still alive and breathing.

A blue ray of light beamed down from the newly opened sky. Before I could take another breath, I was being carried into its line of fire along with the Elites that were now taking me hostage instead of The Spartan and Cortana. Where was she, anyway? I was under the impression that her entire purpose was to help him...

I threw my fists into any point of contact I could find with the burly figure that held me tightly, nearly suffocating. “Chief, help! Please! Please wake up! Cortana! Please!”

My voice trembled, full blown tears welling up in my waterline. Terror wasn’t enough of a word to describe it. I’d always prided myself on being fearless… For taking on The Rubble and all of its ups and downs without a care or doubt in the world.

I mean, I attempted to stand up to a Spartan..

But I’d never come in this close of contact with this kind of danger before— not so helplessly. The UNSC, they had laws- Protocol. The Covenant? If the stories were true.. I’d be lucky if I made it back out alive and in one piece. That is, if I made it back out at all.

As soon as we reached the blue beam, upward we went. The only man strong and brave enough to save me disappeared before my very eyes as we glided into the threatening ship that hung above us. I’d only gotten a glance of it when the ceiling caved in, and the notion of just how huge it was didn’t make matters any better.

As quickly as they came in, we were gone, and The Artifact had come right along with us.

[lonestarbattleship]

Crew of USS Texas (BB-35) practicing drills near Lobos Island, Gulf of Mexico, from June 2 and July 7, 1914.

"There were drills, too, for the emergencies that come without warning.

"'Man overboard!'

The man was a box tossed over the side; we went for it as if it were a shipmate. The life-buoy sentry loosed a Franklin ring, the officer of the deck backed the engines, the boat's crew scrambled into the whale boat and a junior officer raced aft to take charge. 'Lower away fore and aft. Bear a hand, now.'

'Aye, aye, sir!' Thirty feet to the water, the boat hung on the long falls, the crew clutching at the knotted man ropes.

'Let fall!' They smacked into the sea and went pulling away with a hard stroke, swaying to the oars and putting their backs into it. The box lay on the blue surface, washing idly, innocent as wood, the life ring smoking beside it. We could hear the coxswain yell: 'Stroke, together; stroke, together; stroke, together!'

'In bows!' The bowmen dropped their leaning out from the bow-sheets, made the rescue; the boat circled to pick up the buoy. oars, and On deck the boatswain's mates, anticipating the return, bawled: 'Starboard whale-boat falls, all the deck force!' We led out the tackle through snatch blocks and aft; the long lines extended toward the stern a hundred and fifty feet, and a hundred men gathered at them to hoist the boat by hand.

It came racing back to the ship, the coxswain yelling harshly, standing like a whaler as he steered with a long oar. 'Way enough!' We could hear the oars thump as it slid under the davits, where the falls for hooking on hung almost to the water.

Hoisting a whale-boat has a smack of the past about it. A chief boatswain's mate stood by with his silver call-a slender, curving whistle whose bowl tucks into your palm; you can blow the four different notes of the sea pipes by closing the hand about it. 'Starboard boat's on the falls, chief.'

'Aye, aye.' He raised the call to his lips. Set taut! -two short shrill peeps. We picked up the falls and braced ourselves. Hoist away! That's a commanding pipe; it commences on a low note, rises swiftly to a clean piercing shrill, and trails away, long and sweet.

'Walk her up, sailors. Marry yer falls together. Heave on it... toenails in the deck!' Hoist away! Hoist away! The boat came dripping to the davit heads, the crew scrambling out. Vast heaving! Short and shrill, high-low-high, with the low note undulated.

Walk back handsomely!"

Passage from "Come On TEXAS" by Paul Schubert.

source

[dndwithaerin]

Part 6 - A Duel With Death

The day after Laura's first meeting with her prospective groom started with little fanfare. The day's task for her Applied Spellcraft class was as follows: in groups of three, they were to practice the art of imbuing spells in to otherwise mundane objects or weapons. She found herself in a group with Orlaith, and a newly made acquaintance by the name of Orbeck.

Orbeck, an incredibly studious wizard in his own right, had met the two girls by virtue of proximity to Sean, as he was Sean's roommate in the dormitories. He seemed to bear some disdain for Laura, though for what reason, she did not know. He reluctantly agreed to take the role of third wheel in the group project, only after much prodding.

He seemed incredibly skilled in the art of magical infusions though, as he guided Laura through the process with ease. His instruction to see the object in question, a dagger in this case, as an extension of one's self rather than as a tool, in order to infuse the magic as if you were holding it in your own hand.

Just as they were getting the hang of the process, an ominous cloud of green gas began to creep forward along the floor from the rear of the class. Only after the class erupted in a cacophony of shrieks and coughs did Professor Cyrus look up from the stack of papers he was grading, quickly springing to action with a dispelling gust, dispersing the cloud and negating its effects.

The culprit? One Tomas Straid, heir to the Straid family, well known journalists, and notorious necromancers. He showed little remorse for nearly suffocating his classmates, though to his mind nothing of value would have been lost, a remark both Laura and Orlaith took much umbrage with. Unfortunately as his intent could not be proven, no disciplinary action was taken.

As the class was wrapping up, the professor made mention of the school's magical dueling society, himself presiding as advisor, that had recently re-opened following renovations and reinforcements to the dueling hall. Straid, with yet another snide remark, would issue an open challenge, as one of the chief members of the club, sure in himself that none could stand up to him.

As it came time to leave, the girls found themselves trailing Straid by a few steps. Another off-hand remark belittling his classmates would set the pair off, as they both made to cast a spell. A gust of wind surrounded him, and he was instantly teleported so that he was now the one following the girls. Obviously taking great offense to this relatively harmless prank, he shouted after the pair, that if they had a problem with him, they should meet him in the dueling hall. They required no convincing. The challenge had been accepted.

Later, in the dining hall, they would rendezvous with Orbeck, catching him up on what had happened after class. He would be forgiven for thinking Laura was joking. She didn't even know the traditional rules, that contests were most commonly fought with teams of three, and they would need to find another person willing to fight alongside them.

Laura had simply assumed that Orbeck would take no issue being their third once more. It may have taken the combined strength of both her and Orlaith's repeated prodding, but the seminal introvert did eventually relent, with the caveat that he would not fight unless absolutely necessary.

After the school day had ended, the group reconvened in the dueling hall, Orbeck now sporting an ornate rapier in addition to his normal school attire. He had informed Sean of the impending conflict, who had come along with his classmate Michael to provide moral support. They also found themselves accompanied by a large man, possibly a half-orc? He seemed to talk as if he knew them but nobody could place him. It was Orlaith that eventually recognized him as their goblinoid friend, Blirix. A quirk of his heritage apparently, he had hit a sudden growth spurt, growing multiple feet taller literally overnight. As the proceedings began, he would float through the crowd, sewing seeds of dissent against the bullies.

They had limited time to explain the situation, however, as Straid's team had already taken the field, himself flanked by two other students none of the group were familiar with. Laura, Orlaith, and Orbeck followed suit and descended the stairs in to the court.

Professor Cyrus explained the rules of the duel. - One student from each team would compete at a time. - Each student would be protected by a magical barrier, allowing them to compete at full force, while not risking tangible harm. Once a barrier has been depleted, the student would be immediately teleported to the sidelines, and one of their teammates would take their place. - Each team would be allowed one substitution or "tag out" to bring one of their teammates on to the field to replace them. - Interference from inactive team members or outside forces would result in an immediate disqualification for the offending team.

With all that said, the duel was underway. Orlaith would start for her team, against the first of Straid's underlings, a lanky sort with fingertips charred black and covered in soot. A barrage of spells came quickly, Orlaith emitting a blast of psychic energy, though it didn't seem to find its mark. Her foe responded by encircling her in a wall of fire. Seeing an opportunity, Orlaith chose to remain obscured by the flame. With the enemy unaware of her precise location, she was able to land a couple solid hits, though the force of the flames surrounding her would prove to be too much.

Run nearly ragged by the fire that surrounded her, Orlaith was forced to tag out, Laura taking the field. "Let's fight fire with fire then" she said as she quickly darted around the wall of flame, unleashing a gout of her own, passing directly through the pyromaniac, and rendering him unable to continue.

The second underling stepped forward, a rounder sort, not entirely seeming like he wanted to be there in the first place. His pair of spellcasting attempts would be easily thwarted by Laura, two swift flicks of the wrist deflecting and evaporating his so-called best shot. Obviously frustrated, in a flurry of swears and other unsavory language, he tagged himself out, ushering Straid in to deal with his own mess.

Straid opened by producing a pouch of powder, crushed bones, pouring the material out on to the ground before him, summoning a mindless skeletal soldier to do his bidding. Now having to combat two foes, Laura found herself in a bit of a tight spot, having expended her defensive measures. The skeleton's blows were fairly trivial, but just as Laura appeared to be gaining the upper hand, Straid unleashed a torrent of necromantic energy, a wave of desiccation utterly depleting her strength, and that of the barrier protecting her. Her eyes shut only for a second, and re-opened on the sidelines of the duel.

Orlaith turned to Orbeck with a pleading look, obviously in no shape to return to the fray. With the deepest sigh imaginable, Orbeck unsheathed his rapier and removed his outer robe, exposing to all the spellscript etched in to his arms. Like a bolt of lightning he leapt, dispatching the skeleton with ease before turning his attention to Straid, whose further casting attempts would prove ineffective in delaying the inevitable. Invoking the runes inscribed on his skin, drawing them out, and in to his rapier, electricity flashed in Orbeck's eyes as it ran the length of the blade. With one final swift strike, Straid would fall.

The heroes had triumphed, but before they could celebrate, Orbeck, seemingly overwhelmed by the situation, or by the dawning realization that he had just revealed his greatest secret to the world, jolted out of the room as fast as he could. Laura, Orlaith, and Sean took chase after him, though he was out of sight far too quickly.

Not knowing where he could have gone, the first place they checked was his and Sean's dorm room, a simple accommodation, with books covering nearly every surface, only just enough space left to move through, being very careful not to topple any of the piles. He would not be found there however. Where next, where next?

The library, perhaps? He seemed to be a reader at least, and a home of knowledge is many a wizard's place of refuge. They wouldn't need to go quite that far though, as en route, Laura caught a glimpse of the mage through open door of an oft-overlooked study hall, re-etching the glyphs and script in to his skin.

The ordeal had visibly drained him, both physically and mentally. He could barely muster a word, but upon Laura and Orlaith's proclamations of gratitude and offers of assistance, he assured them he would be fine. It was worth it to him, to help his friends.

They decided they would have a celebration at a nearby lounge, though before they could leave the school, seemingly from nowhere, the mysterious Professor Sen approached, playing the role of a courier today, she had a letter to deliver to Orlaith, quickly disappearing from sight after handing off the parcel.

The letter would say, as Orlaith was quick to divulge to the rest of the group, that her parents were going out of town on the weekend, so she would be needed at home to tend to the estate in their absence. Seeing the opportunity for a change of pace, she invited the rest of the group to come along with her.

What could await the group of friends, at the lighthouse?

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Table of Contents

[modstarfell]

A fathers betrayal

Juu had spent countless hours and nights staying awake. He had to find his son. He knew he might not have dealt with things in the best of ways but his son was the only family he had. There were countless search troops all over the place and even he had left his place a multitude of times to try and find Tsurugi. It's been a long month...  He felt like he was losing hope at this point. Juu was siting at the police station's office muttering nonsense to himself just trying to get his brain and his body kicking again.

How can the chief of police not even find his own son?!

That was one of Tsurugi's upperclassmen walked into the building with a girl trailing behind her. "Hiii! You're Kinjo right? I'm Enoshima, Enoshima Junko." She gave the other her typical bear-grinning smile with her hands on her hips. She truly looked like a queen and he was completely unaware just what she was about to deliver.

"Yes, you two are from class 78. I know the school has gone on lock down since the tragedy started... I'm impressed you're standing in front of me. What do you need?" It must've taken her a lot to get out of the academy and going unnoticed... Especially if there's another person with her.

"Ah... Boo-hoo... trying to cut our time here short... But, I just wanted to tell you... None of class 79 actually made it to the lock down. I was walking around though... and we found this." Junko signaled to Mukuro to give the man the bag Mukuro was holding.

Mukuro placed the bag on the desk and it let out a disgusting squish noise as things moved around liquid seeped through the bag onto the table. It wasn't just any liquid either... Was... Was that blood?!

Juu slammed his fist down on the desk, looking up at Enoshima. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Don't be mad at me Mister Chief of police! I had nothing to do with this! I was walking through the school when I saw the carnage... Next to this was a police badge was found with Tsurugi's name on it. T-This is all that's left of your son! Waaah!" She let out her fake tears to try and push her point.

What. All that.... was left...? He's been searching all this time... Only for his son to have died...? Hesitantly, Juu opened the bag and was greeted with a pile of mush that was once a person. It was definitely pretty aged by now and there were bugs crawling around whatever was left. He almost threw up at the mere smell it had hitting his nose for the first time.

"You know what I think Tsurugi would've liked more then anything? To be close with his father... Even after his death. He did love you dearly after all, what kind of father would deny him that wish? Try and eat it." Junko stared at the males face, she could already tell he was contemplating many things. "What hope is there left anymore? You won't be able to find him with search teams, and now he's landed right back on your desk... in a pile of mush caused by some random criminal probably filled with despair in his final moment. Only despair can tell what a true criminal looks like after all."

Eat... Eat his son...? The thought of it was insane to him! Inhumane! Yet he began crying. Despair... despair can judge true evil...? He felt his mind beginning to slip, everything was a haze before he knew it he was tearing into the bag with his bare hands and he felt the mush enter his mouth. His mind was shouting at him to stop and to throw it up. Tsurugi wouldn't have wanted this! Yet, his body was working against his will. "Haahh..." When he finished his mind was nearly completely numb. "Tsurugi... I'll protect you from hear on out... You're a part of me now..." Tsurugi... His son's name... Everything from his blue hair to the shoes he wore plagued his thoughts.

He'll do whatever he needs to, to keep the world safe for his son.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S BLOOD - CHAPTER 40

*Warning: Adult Content*  

Dane Hunter takes Julian Hart to George Foley’s old cabin and makes him peel off his wet clothes and wrapping him in blankets. 

The handsome detective is not saying much and there’s a grim intensity to his expression that makes Julian’s stomach twist with worry. 

When he stands for a long moment without moving, Julian touches his arm and he jumps.

“Dane are you okay?”

He scratches behind his ear and gives Julian a rueful half-smile, one of his long canines protruding over his lower lip.

“I will be’” Dane says, trailing his long fingers down Julian’s bare arm. 

“There’s a reason why Wolves don’t shift unless we need to. You spend too much time as a wolf, you forget what it feels like to be a man. I’ve been living as a wolf for so long, I barely feel human any more.”

“Why did you stay a wolf?” Julian asks and Dane just shrugs. 

When he speaks his voice is rough...

“To wait for you.”

Julian blinks at him.

“You stayed there the whole time. For six months?” 

“Pretty much’” Dane says. 

“Noah and Freya bought me food and stuff and sometimes they would take my place at the boulders so I could sleep here. They would force my to shift back and talk to them, so I wouldn’t lose myself completely.”

“But why stay a wolf  if it’s so dangerous?”

Dane looks at Julian as his smile slowly fades.

“Because it hurt less that way,” he said. 

“Missing you.”

In Dane’s face, Julian sees every hour of that pain and it’s a little more than he can bear. 

Julian presses himself into Dane’s arms and his handsome mate holds him for a long time.

“Julian?” Dane asks, releasing him at last. 

“You won’t leave me again, will you?”

Julian looks up, hearing the anxiety in Dane’s voice.

“Not if I can help it’” Julian replies, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“You are stuck with me now.”

Dane’s smile returns, like the sun breaking through the heavy clouds but already Julian understands a little of what his great-grandmother, Eirnin meant about being out of step.

‘Dane lived six months without me, without knowing if he’d ever see me again, or even weather I had lived or died.’ 

‘It isn’t something a few moments of reassurance can erase.’

A short time later they leave the old cabin behind and Dane drives Julian home. 

On the way there, Julian asks Dane about the others and find out that Noah and Freya Hunter have been living at his place, at ‘Foley Cottage’ and that Grace and Chloe Foley have taken over ‘Foley’s Main House’.

 Facing the charge of participating in an illegal Hunt, Selene Montaine gave up her claim on Dane and dropped the dropped the threats against his family pack. 

She and Stefan returned North and haven’t been heard of since. 

As for Dane, he had taken a leave of absence from his job. 

Julian still doesn’t know how much Chief Coleridge knew or understood but she granted Dan’s request without challenge and promised him his job would be waiting when he was ready to come back.

 As they pass the edge of town, a new though strikes Julian like a punch in the gut. 

“What the hell did you tell my mum?” Julian asks.

Dane glances over to Julian. 

He has been driving the whole way one handed, the other grasping Julian’s. 

He gives it a little squeeze.

“Not much,” Dane says. 

“She called the police a few months back after she realized you weren’t answering her calls. Chief Coleridge gave her my number and she gave me a call. I told her you were fine.”

“And she believed you? Without talking to me?”

“I said you lost your voice. She said she should have known you were just ‘shacked up with some man” and that when you were ‘done chocking on cock’ you should give her a call.

“Did she really say that?” Julian winces.

“Yep.”

“What did you tell her.”

“That it would be a while.”

“Oh, my God’” Julian groans.

“I’d like to met her,” Dane says, after a moment, sounding almost shy. Julian grimaces and then casts Dane a sly glance.

“One step at a time. Besides I’ve never been able to lie to her, so we\ll have to make what you told her the truth. And if she thinks I’ve been blowing you for six months straight, I’ve got some catching up to do.” 

Dane lets go of Julian’s hand to grasp the steering-wheel with both of his as he swerves across the lanes. 

Freya Hunter screams when she Julian, sweeping him into her arms and squeezing so tight he squeaks. 

Noah Hunter is more reserved but gives Julian a quick light embrace once Freya decides to let him go. 

They appear much as they did before, though Noah’s hair is a little longer. 

Chloe Foley and Grace join them after Freya alerts them with the news of Julian’s return. 

Grace cries for a long time when she sees Julian and then bombards him with questions about the Fey Realm. 

She has decided to write fantasy novels in her spare time. 

Chloe hangs back, unsure of her welcome.

“You don’t hate me?” Chloe asks.

“None of what happened was your fault, Chloe,” Julian says. 

“Besides, I don’t think I could hate someone who makes my best friend as obviously happy as you do.”

‘I’m not lying. Grace is radiant and lights up a little every time she meets Chloe’s eyes.’

Chloe smiles and relaxes slightly, though she still seems nervous around Dane. 

Julian can’t blame her, he seems inclined to growl at anyone who gets too close. 

‘I hope he remembers his people skills soon or we won’t be able to go out in public.’

Ian arrives last, driving up in his noisy red truck. 

When he gets out though, Julian sees that of all of them, he has changed the most. 

His beard is gone, shaved clean and he’s lost even more weight than Dane. 

George’s death, hit him hard, it seems and he still isn’t quite the same.

“Julian,” Ian says when he sees Julian. 

“Can I hug you?” 

Julian nods and lets Ian hug him. 

He holds Julian a moment, takes a deep breath, then let’s him go.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Julian says softly. 

Ian sniffs and looks away.

“Me too. But I’m proud of him, you know? He wasn’t perfect but he did his best, I think. I wish he was here to see me now.”

“What happened to your clan?” Julian asks. 

“Did you take over, after all?”

Ian Foley nods.

“Yeah. But it’s only until Chloe is ready.” 

“Chloe?” Julian repeats, looking over at the demure, shy young woman doubtfully but Ian nods again.

“She is quiet and gentle but that doesn’t mean she isn’t strong. More than that, she’s smart. She sees things with the right perspective and she’s got talent like I’ll never have. It’s true, we have never had a woman leader before but I guess it’s about time.”

“What about you?” Julian asks blinking at Ian in surprise. 

Ian smiles self-consciously and runs a hand through his neatly-trimmed hair.

“I don’t like the man I am, Jules. I don’t think I ever have. I’ve gotta find the man I want to be. Maybe then,” Ian Foley shrugs. 

“Well, maybe once I deserve it, I’ll get lucky and find someone to love.”

Julian looks at Ian for a moment and then gives him one more light embrace.

“I hope you do, Ian. I hope you find everything you are looking for.”

Later Dane takes Julian back to his apartment. 

Noah has been taking care of it for him and he accompanies them, giving a quick tour to show what he’s done to liven up the place. 

The boxes are gone and everything neatly put away but Julian is still struck with the bare minimalism of Dane’s possessions.

“Where does all your money go, anyway?” Julian asks, examining Dane’s collection of mismatched dishes and chipped mugs.

“Loan payments,” Dane says brusquely.

“Oh... for school?” Julian asks but Dane doesn’t answer and Noah sighs.

“Dane you have to tell Freya eventually. You don’t know how hard it is to keep this from her. Besides, she deserves to know. You might as well start with Julian. Consider it practise,” Noah says and Dane sighs scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“Fine,” Dane says and Julian braces himself for something terrible... mafia debt or child support... but what he hears just makes him love Dane even more. 

“The first time Freya shifted and took the form of a female wolf, we all new she was different,” Dane says 

“As she got older, she came to hate her human body, so much. She started refusing to shift back. She wanted surgery to complete her transition but it’s expensive,” Dane explains and Noah chimes in... 

“She’s been saving for years but then our youngest sister got into her dream, a music conservatory. Freya gave all her saving for Ingrid’s tuition.”

“Obviously, Freya still needed the surgery,”  Dane says, sighing again and shifting uncomfortably. 

“It was a matter of life and death for her. We all chipped in but our family doesn’t have much money, our wealth is in our lands. Then she started this on-line fundraiser thing but it just didn’t take off. I couldn’t stand to watch her suffer anymore, so...”

“He payed all her medical expenses with personal loans,” Noah says impatiently. 

“Took out the money and the donated it anonymously through the campaign. I only know because he needed help with the paperwork at the bank,” Noah adds, rolling his eyes. 

“He’s been paying the loans back ever since. Fucking martyr.”

“I just don’t want her to think that she owes me anything,” Dane says defensively. 

“I much rather lose all my money, then lose my sister,” he adds.

“Yeah but it’s been years. Freya would have helped. We’ll all help if you just fucking let us. That is what pack is for,” Noah snaps.

Julian hasn't seen Noah this angry before and it is clear it is a sore spot between them.

“I’ll tell her eventually,” Dane says and Noah shakes his head.

“Secrets like this just get worse the longer you wait. If I know Freya, she won’t take it well. She’ll need time to forgive you for doing this to yourself,” Noah adds and Dane sighs again.

“All right, Noah. You two are heading back home in a few days, right?”

“Now that Julian is back, yeah,” Noah confirms.

When I bring Julian to meet everyone, I’ll tell Freya the truth. I promise.”

“And when will that be,” Noah presses.

Dane looks at Julian and smiles.

“Soon, I think. Very soon.”

When Noah leaves, Dane shows Julian exactly how much he had missed him. 

For him it’s been six months after all. 

It starts with a kiss, a tangle of tongues and heated breath and quickly escalates from there. 

Dane takes Julian from behind, hard and deep, each thrust sending a shiver up Julian’s spine. Then he gets a little wild, maybe another effect of staying as a wolf for too long and soon Julian’s is ragged and breathless and he can’t do much but hang on for the ride. 

Finally Dane lets Julian come and with his own release leans over him, grasping him around the chest and pushing himself deep as he bites down on the flesh between Julian’s shoulder and neck. 

‘I have never felt so possessed. In another circumstance it would have scared me but I want Dane as badly as he wants me and I’m not afraid.’

Dane lets Julian go and they both collapse. 

After a minute, Dane lifts himself and lets Julian rolls over so that they are lying chest to chest.

“Are you okay?” Dane asks Julian breathlessly, brushing his hands over Julian’s face. 

“I think I lost myself a little bit there,” He confesses.

“I’m fine,” Julian says. 

“Although...” 

He reaches up and touches his shoulder and the tips of his fingers come away red. 

“Shit. You bit me.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re a werewolf,” Julian reminds him.

“I know,” Dane says.

“Shit. What happens when a Werewolf bites a Fey? Julian asks nervously.

Dane leans down and licks the wound. 

It doesn’t seem sanitary but it hardly matters at this point.

“I don’t know,” Dane says thoughtfully and smiles. 

“But I guess we’ll find out.”

[peacefulporcupine7]

How To Conduct A Druid Wedding

Adapted from The King and the Lionheart

Druids are spirits of the forest who are religious leaders as well as legal authorities, adjudicators, lorekeepers, medical professionals, and political advisors. They are ceremony conductors and keep no written records.

To conduct a Druid Ceremony, or Wedding, you will need to go to the Grove of Frithgeard and find the Great Oak of Trystring. It will be a clear day, with clouds passing by in the long, soft meadow grass. It is recommended that you and your lover lay in the long grass before the ceremony to feel flora’s secret all around you. Above the sky will be blue.

The Druids are kind, gentle, peaceful spirits. The Chieftain of the Druids will tell you: “Neither you, nor your plighted one, will carry weapons into the place of peace.” The Chieftain believes, “Love shapes all you do, which is the greatest wisdom of all.”

You and your partner will wait alone in the Grove from the early morning. Sunlight will dapple down the branches of the Great Oak, making patterns on the grass beneath it where you lie.

Dress in soft white clothing, open-necked comfortable; weaponless. The Chieftain will tell you, “Wait here together. You will not be disturbed for the next few hours. When the day reaches its climax and the sun its zenith, the tribe will come and Iseldir, our chief, will bind you together beneath the living sun. They will dip their heads and leave.

Changing to third-person perspective for immersion

The ritual is almost silent. You and your partner stand beneath the oak, hand clasped together, the druid tribe forming a quiet circle around you.

A small girl appears, a small smiley brown-eyed girl, and the people part to make way for her. She’s only about five years old, and she’s carefully bearing two circles of leafy green.

Iseldir is standing a little to one side; he smiles encouragingly at the child, and murmurs to you, “Kneel now, so Frytha can crown you.”

It’s gentle, familiar, friendly; the gathered people smile lovingly as Iseldir guides the little Frytha through her part in the ritual. She places a garland on your head, and one on your partner’s shining hair, beaming proudly at you. You can’t help smiling back at her, and when you glance at your lover, you see that they have a soft look on their face that makes you want to kiss them right then and there.

Frytha kisses you both heartily on your cheeks, flinging her little arms around each of your necks in turn and squeezing affectionately. “May the Earth bless your handfasting," she says carefully, a line learned by heart; and then makes a wobbly little druid peace-sign with her hands and scurries away with a flurry of brown curls.

Iseldir comes forward, a wooden cup held in his hands. He offers it first to your partner, who’s closest; you see that it’s full of deep red wine. Your partner drinks deep and long, meeting your eyes gravely across the rim of the cup. You smile a little; and then Iseldir is offering you the cup, and you fit your lips over the place where your partner had drunk.

There’s a murmured sound of approval from the druids around you, but you don't look away from your partner’s blue, blue eyes, endless as the sky. Iseldir takes the cup back when you have drunk, and sets it down, coming to stand beside you again.

“Take each other’s hands,” he says softly.

Your partner's hands are warm and steady and comfortingly familiar. You squeeze them a little, meeting their answering smile with a quirk of your own lips.

A long trailing wreath is wrapped round you and your partner’s hands. “Beneath the Sun I bind you together,” Iseldir chants quietly, and the voices of the clan mingle together with his. “Let the Earth around us bear witness.”

This is their cue, as they had been instructed beforehand, and you say softly, “Let it be so indeed.” Your partner repeats it after you, their voice husky.

“Frytha,” Iseldir murmurs, and the little girl is there again, tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth in concentration as she carefully takes away the wreath. Then Iseldir gives something into each of her small hands, and she comes forward again, brown eyes wide and intent.

“By the Sun, and the Moon and the Earth awound us,” she says lispingly, and then beams in triumph at having said her line correctly, offering you her outstretched hands. A ring rests in the careful cup of each small palm, gold and silver twisted and twined together.

You fumble a little, together, as you exchange the rings; you give a tiny huff of warm laughter at your partner’s unsteady hands, and they glance up, meeting your eyes with soft amusement for a moment. But then the bands slip onto you and your partner’s fingers, cool and fitting and right.

Then their arms are around you, and your hands are clutching their back, bodies melding against each other. And you kiss each other’s lips, there beneath the Great Oak with the sound of the Earth all around you both, and the soft glad murmurs of the watching tribe.

End of the ceremony

Your lover curls themself more closely around you, resting their face in your soft, dark hair. You're nestled together, close to sleep. The full moon is white and softly glimmering above you both where you lie; your cloaks make a scant barrier beneath you, but the grass is soft.

[primevein]

The Prime of His Youth: Book III: Prometheus' Gift: Ch22: Healing

Roxana walked into the colossal office, with Japheth hanging back. He stepped to the side as she walked up to the desk. He looked at her, and then at Japheth standing in the background. While he was not personally involved, he was hardly anyone to scoff at. He looked back at Roxana. "I am Regus, the Chief Surgeon."

"Roxana." she replied.

Regus looked over at Japheth, "And your friend?"

"Far more than that." Roxana said with glee, "But if you want to know."

"I'm here with her." Japheth stated.

"That's Japheth Prime." she uttered, and Regus looked completely lost. He stepped away from his desh and towards the windows.

"I had heard..." he uttered.

"Again I'm here for her." Japheth stated.

Regus found his composure and turned back to Roxana, "And how can I help you?"

"I am here to discuss how our treatment methods and technology have diverged."

"It must have been so hard for you, in your isolated colony."

"Sending data directly to the T-cog is apparently lost technology."

"Yes..." he said dismissively, "It was lost long..."

"She's saying she can do it." Japheth stated. Regus gave him a harsh glare, then a more questioning one, then he gave Roxana a look that told her he did not believe in anything she said. "I've seen it." he said. Then something occured to him. He transformed his right hand into a blaster and her left into a flamethrower. "She's the one that allowed me to do this, after I became Japheth Prime."

"If what you say is true?" he doubtfully asked, did not finish.

"It is!" she eagerly said.

"Then perhaps we have something to learn from each other." Regus stated. "If you want to talk about surgery, I can speak to you, or I can ask one of the doctors on the floor to let you accompany him for his rounds."

"I would love to accompany a doctor on his rounds." Roxana eagerly said.

* * *

Roxana walked through the doors first, with Japheth trailing behind her. She walked up to the doctor as he stepped out. "You must be Roxana?" he asked, and then looked at Japheth.

"I'm kind of distracting..." Japheth stated, "Maybe I should leave you to?.." he uttered, and Roxana quickly turned around, giving him a chastising smile.

"I would much rather have you here." Roxana stated, and turned back to the doctor, "Yes, I am Roxana, a medic from Caminus." She turned to Japheth, "And this is Japheth Prime." she said, giving him a loving, soulful look. She turned back to the doctor.

"I am Flatline, resident trauma surgeon. And you asked to accompany me on my rounds?" he asked.

She nodded eagerly. "I would like to see how heathcare has diverged. I know you have lost the ability to directly transmit data to a T-cog." she eagerly stated.

Flatline just stared at her, "You can what?!" he asked.

"Directly transmit data to a T-cog." she said with a smile.

"So, you don't have to scan?" he asked.

"It still works exceptionally well." she stated, "On Caminus, we have a few standard designs that any of the sisters can switch between if they so desire. My counterpart." she said, and looked at Japheth, "His procurator," she repeated, and looked back to Flatline, "has a database of weapons," she said, and looked back to Japheth, "which he is still bearing."

Flatline quickly walked passed Roxana up to Japheth. "Can I examine them?!" he eagerly asked.

Japheth stepped away from the wall, and looked around. He found a table. He walked over to it, transforming his a blaster into his right hand and a flamethrower into his left hand. He then rested them on the table.

Flatline quickly walked over and leaned over to examine them, "They seem... utterly ordinary?" he asked.

"They were standard templates that Arcelia was carrying with her." Roxana added.

"And the flamethower?" Flatline asked. "Certainly not unheard of, but most of the Warrior-caste do not use them."

"Useful against swarms of Insecticons." Japheth stated.

Flatline stood up, "According to the legends, Sparks were originally born in the Undergrid, and had to make their way to the surfce. So, they would have had to face swarms of Insecticons simply to survive." He shook his head and looked in on the blaster. "So, even if produced from data, there is no problem with how it works?"

"It depends on the details of the pattern." Roxana added, "We can also use it to change a Cybertronian's colour pattern."

"I have always theorized that was possible." Flatline simply stated, "And now it is apparently proven to be true. But, you did come here to follow me on my rounds." He then looked up at Japheth.

"Hm?" Japheth asked, reverting his hands, "I'm just here to accompany her. I'll try to stay out of the way."

* * *

Roxana saw a Griffinfly fly in, and simply stared at her. She flew up and transformed, quickly bowing. "Thank you so much for what you did to me."

"Thank you." She cheerfully said, and bowed. The femme turned to look at Japheth. She looked at his face. "When you saw him, he was a bit smaller." Roxana said eagerly. She then gestured down to her knee. The Griffinfly had trouble understanding. "I know, it's magic, isn't it?" Roxana asked. "He is now Japheth Prime."

"P... P... Prime?!" she exclaimed. "Is there anything I can?.."

"Why don't we get out of their way?" he asked.

"She is actually an outpatient." an annoyed Flatline uttered.

"I'm sure it can wait until..." she tried to say.

"We have an appointment." an annoyed Flatline stated, and paused a moment, "If you want, he can join us in the exam room."

She looked about nervously. "I'll be in the waiting room." Japheth stated, "But Roxana also wanted to sit in on the exam."

"I am a medic from Caminus!" Roxana giddily explained.

"I suppose... with a femme..." she voiced, and turned towards the examination room.

* * *

Japheth stared out of the windows in the waiting room. He heard a noise next to him, one that made no other sound. He turned to look at her. "How was the exam." he said, and she looked about nervously. "Sorry, I hope it went well."

"They said you were the reason we were spared." she uttered.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Carron." she replied. "Until you arrived, we were compelled to fight. If you weren't there, we would have died. You literally saved us."

"You are welcome." he said.

"You don't understand." she uttered, "You are the only reason we are. If I could, I would do anything for you."

"You don't have to." he stated.

"I want to." she said firmly.

"I'll send you a nav. point. Speak with Arcee." he said.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed.

"I'll go see if I can catch up with Roxana."

* * *

The Griffinfly approached Arcelia as Arcee cuddled from behind her, looking over her shoulder at the tablet. She turned to looked at the Griffinfly as it hovered.

"You can land." Arcee said to her, and she landed and bowed, "My name is Carron. You saved me from... what I was in the Undergrid."

"Have a seat." Arcee said. Carron looked at the rocks behind her and moved over to sit down.

"I was sent here by Japheth Prime." she stated.

"Ah." Arcee said with recognition.

"Ah?" Arcelia asked.

"The same thing I saw with Roxie." Arcee stated.

"Ah." Arcelia said with recognition.

"Ah?" Carron nervously asked.

"You want to serve him." Arcee said, and Carron let out a sigh of relief. "Why?"

"He saved us." Carron said, and the look on Arcee's face proved it was insufficient. "Whatever he does will be of the upmost good, and I want to participate in it."

"And what do you bring to the table?" Arcee asked.

Carron pulled out hand-held carronade, "A flyer with a cannon?" she asked.

"That is something we don't have." Arcee stated. "Now, you see what I'm doing with Arcelia?"

"I was curious about that?" Carron asked.

"It's a form of Human intimacy." Arcee stated, "Me, Arcelia, Roxana, and Japheth Prime are in an intimate relationship. We will be doing this all the time. If you have a problem with this?.."

"I am curious, but I'll be fine." Carron stated.

"There will be surprisingly little combat." she added.

"Something I am coming to terms with." Carron stated. "I certainly wasn't Warrior-caste when I was kidnapped."

"On Terra we called it curbside duty." Arcee stated. "One of the most important things that Warriors have to do is... wait. And are you Warrior-caste?"

"I'm so sorry." she said, and bowed, "I'm a Scout. I don't know if I can handle being a warrior."

"And... we should bring you with us?" Arcee asked.

"I have the experience fighting, and a anger bringing me to battle." she stated, "It's deciding when to fight."

"Arcelia?" Arcee asked.

"I believe her." Arcelia stated. "She believes in him, and will sacrifice anything for him."

"Alright, we'll try you out." Arcee stated. "We'll stay on-station here until Japheth calls us. We travel between worlds. Worst case, we'll make sure you can get back to Cybertron." Arcee gave Carron an expectant look, and she gave a reassuring smile in reply.