#It's like trying to climb a slippery incline

[corset]

Our mental health has been in such an interestingly terrible place for the last month or so. Genuinely kind of fascinating to watch from different internal angles....like watching the ocean ebb and flow and change temperament at random sometimes based on weather or the moon or something. Like this shit is just terrible

[heavenridersindia]

Patalsu Peak Trek: A Comedy of Errors with the Heaven Riders India!

Today, we’re about to embark on a laughter-filled journey as we recount the uproarious escapades of the Heaven Riders India during their epic trek to Patalsu Peak. Get ready for a rollercoaster of hilarity, mishaps, and unforgettable moments in this 1300-word comedy special!

The Patalsu Peak Temptation

Picture this: A group of enthusiastic trekkers gathered around a table piled high with maps, trekking gear, and more energy drinks than you can shake a trekking pole at. The discussion? None other than the Patalsu Peak trek, a majestic adventure nestled in the heart of Himachal Pradesh.

Now, Patalsu Peak may sound like an idyllic paradise, but the Heaven Riders India were about to find out that paradise comes with a side of slapstick comedy.

Packing Pandemonium

The art of packing for a trek is a delicate dance between necessity and absurdity. The Heaven Riders, however, seemed to lean more towards the absurd. It’s safe to say that our trekking bags resembled a chaotic mix of camping gear, gourmet snacks, and enough selfie sticks to arm a small army.

But what’s an adventure without a touch of extravagance, right? Our group was divided between the minimalist trekkers and the ones who insisted on bringing everything but the kitchen sink. I won’t name names, but let’s just say someone packed a portable espresso machine. You know, for that essential caffeine fix on the mountain.

The Trek Commences: Day 1

With bags strapped on and spirits high, we began our journey. The trail, at first, seemed manageable, like a walk in the park. Little did we know that Patalsu Peak had a unique sense of humor, and it was about to pull some epic pranks on us.

Imagine a group of city slickers, bedecked in brand-new trekking attire, trying to keep pace with a spry local shepherd and his herd of mountain goats. The goats, with their nimble hooves, seemed to mock us with every graceful step they took. Meanwhile, we huffed and puffed our way up the trail, earning us the dubious title of “Mountain Clowns.”

The Campsite Comedy

Camping on the Patalsu Peak trek was a lesson in survival, comedy style. Our tents were perched on slopes that could rival a circus tightrope. Sleeping bags became slippery slides as we fought gravity to stay put on these inclines.

The campfires were an entirely different spectacle. At this altitude, starting a fire is no easy feat, and let’s just say our attempts were more “smoke signals to aliens” than roaring bonfires. Our guide tried to teach us the art of fire-making, but it soon became clear that we were hopeless pyromaniacs.

The Enigma of the Vanishing Trekking Poles

As if the mountain wasn’t challenging enough, our trek had a mystery in store for us. Trekking poles, those trusty companions of every trekker, began to disappear one by one. It was as if the mountain had a vendetta against our poles.

We came up with wild theories about a rogue yeti with a pole obsession or perhaps a tribe of mischievous mountain spirits who couldn’t resist the allure of our equipment. Our guide, however, had a simpler explanation: “You’re probably just leaving them behind as you tumble down the mountain, folks.”

Altitude and the Attitude Adjustment

As we climbed to higher altitudes, the trek became more challenging, and altitude sickness paid us a visit. Altitude-induced hilarity was the name of the game, with trekkers forgetting basic tasks and losing their balance like toddlers learning to walk.

Our guide’s casual dismissal of our symptoms with a simple “breathe in, breathe out, and pretend you’re not dizzy” became our mantra. We had come for a mountain adventure, but it felt more like an initiation into the Society of High Altitude Clowns.

The Summit: Triumph and Tumultuous Laughter

After days of belly laughs, misadventures, and the occasional bout of altitude-induced theatrics, we reached the summit of Patalsu Peak. The view was breathtaking, the sense of accomplishment overwhelming, and the tears streaming down our faces, well, those were from uncontrollable laughter.

As we gazed at the stunning panorama before us, we couldn’t help but marvel at the absurdity of it all. We may not have found enlightenment on Patalsu Peak, but we did find something equally precious – shared moments of laughter, camaraderie, and unforgettable memories.

The Descent: Lessons and Laughter Continued

The descent from Patalsu Peak was a mix of euphoria and nostalgia. We couldn’t help but laugh at all the mishaps, from overpacked bags to altitude-induced comedy routines. We had come for an adventure, and we left with an abundance of laughter and a newfound appreciation for the ridiculousness of life. 

Our trek to Patalsu Peak was not just a comedy of errors; it was also an opportunity to connect with the local legends and savor some mouthwatering cuisine.

As we huffed and puffed our way up the mountain, we had the privilege of meeting some local legends – the shepherds. These mountain folks seemed to defy gravity as they effortlessly guided their herds of sheep and goats along steep slopes. They shared tales of their encounters with the elusive Himalayan wildlife and the secrets of surviving in these challenging terrains.

When it came to cuisine, our trek offered a delightful surprise. While our trekking bags may have been filled with unconventional items, our taste buds were treated to traditional Himachali dishes. From steaming bowls of thukpa to piping hot momos, we discovered that the mountains not only offer breathtaking views but also a taste of culinary heaven.

In Conclusion: Peaks and Punchlines

The Patalsu Peak trek may not have been the serene escape we envisioned, but it was an adventure filled with laughter, camaraderie, and unforgettable memories. Sometimes, the best journeys are the ones that take you on unexpected detours.

So, if you’re considering the Patalsu Peak trek with the Heaven Riders India, be prepared for the unexpected, embrace the quirks of mountain life, and pack a sense of humor. Because in the end, it’s not just about reaching the summit; it’s about the laughter, the lessons, and the memories you create along the way.

As we bid adieu to this comedy of errors, we can’t help but smile at the thought of our missing trekking poles, inflatable espresso machines, and gravity-defying tents. Until next time, fellow adventurers, may your treks be filled with laughter, your bags be slightly less absurd, and your mountains be as hilarious as Patalsu Peak with the Heaven Riders India!

Source: https://seoslog.com/patalsu-peak-trek-a-comedy-of-errors-with-the-heaven-riders-india/

[violet-silverblood]

i do want to know about the locker mulberry tree

So at the beginning of middle school (6th grade) everyone got new locker assignments. And they tried to keep the entire grade's llockers close together for some reason so they needed to find somewhere with about 35 lockers together. The spot they found had 30-ish lockers so there was only a little spill over and those lockers were in the stairwell leading to our new classrooms.

The 30-ish lockers were arranged in an L right next to a maintenance shed so we had a roof and maybe some bar type seating as well I don't quite remember. We were also right behind the elementary school library, normally this wouldn't have been anything remarkable because it was a small campus. But the back of the library had a ledge about 3.5-4 ft built into it, this is important later.

At teh start of the year we were more concerned with figuring out the best way to get around so we weren't late to anything while was relatively easy (this was before they completely fucked everyone ever schedualing wise but that's a whole different and far less fun thing). Our concern with finding the best route meant we only noticed that the path by the lockers was kinda slippery which everyone ignored figuring it to be dead bugs or something equally uninteresting.

So, fast forward to May and we notice that the path was slippery and sticky again (pretty sure we only noticed because a few people who were running ended up kissed the path). Naturally as bored and stressed 11 year olds we try to figure out why the path is slippery.

This investigation leads us to look up and finally notice the large branches overhanging the path and the small dark berries that hang from said branches. A few of the taller kids jump up and manage to snag a few of the berries, smashing them in the process. And being 11 some of the boys deal with this development by licking the unknown fruit off their hands.

This stupid decision doesn't kill them, they declare the berries tasty, and jump up to grab more.

The jump-and-grab method only really worked for the taller kids who weren't inclined to share teh literal fruits of their labor, except with their friends, so the shorter kids had to find their own way to get fruit.

Some decised to climb onto the ledge at the back of the library and grab fruit that way while a few went a step farther and jumped onto the roof of the matenance shed and lockers to get fruit. Most just asked if the feral climbing kids would share and got fruit that way.

We spent about six or seven weeks as a very small hidden gatherer society for like ten minutes a day during lunch before we were let go for the summer.

Then the next year started and the cycle repeated, we remembered the berries at the start but the ones that were left were mushy and weird tasting so berry gathering was religated to spring.

But for a few weeks those two years, grudges were put aside and hatchets were buried as everyone relied on each other to harvest enough berries for the group.

Also; no, we didn't know what kind of fruit it was until the librarian saw us on accident and demanded to know what we were doing. Nor did we know if the tree was the school's or the neighboring properties and we didn't care either way, all that mattered was that we could get the fruit.

[fuwushiguro]

I see PT!Kirishima and raise you PT!Bakugo!! 👉🏾👈🏾 Menaces. That's how to get me to show up at the gym daily🥵🥵🥵

Notes: Oh Bakugo would be a mf slave driver at the gym!! Need five minutes to rest?? NOT ON HIS WATCH

Warnings: Dry Humping, Cowgirl Position, Exhibitionism

PT!Katsuki Bakugo x f!Reader

"I'm sure you have other clients who'd rather be doing this Bakugo." you huff. It's hard to talk when your strict gym trainer is demanding that you bring your knees to your chest as high as humaly possible while you step between the tyre holes he's scattered all around the open field.

"I don't want my other clients. You're my girlfriend and I need ya to tell me how this course is before I advertise it for real." he explains with a smug look on his face.

Yes, you are indeed his girlfriend. He was your personal trainer before that though. He was always strict from your very first day. The good old days when you used to train in the nice, air conditioned gym. The days of yesterday. Because today, he's making you test run his bootcamp course with him. It's a more intense workout for people looking for a challenge, which you aren't. You're fighting for your life. Not only is it incredibly difficult, but it's raining and the field is a slippery muddy mess.

"It's too hard Bakugo!" you whine.

Silence.

You miss when he used to increase the speed and incline on the treadmill, although you used to complain about that too. When you'd lift weights and he'd call you a pathetic weakling. Part of you wanted to cry. But when you felt a wetness grow between your legs at his mean words you knew he'd awakened something in you. He didn't miss the way your thighs squeezed together either. That's how you found yourselves fucking for the first time. A mess of tangled tongues and limbs in the locker room. You were surprised it wasn't a one time thing, but he asked you on a date. He'd be a fool to let a pussy that good slip through his fingers. Those were his exact words.

"Those knees need to be higher, princess." he smirked.

You stopped completely at that, boy his face was a picture. His entire face seemed to drop as he was awestruck that you had the audacity to stop what you were doing.

"I'd like to see you try, prick. Walkin' around in that big puffer jacket with a coffee in your hand while I'm dying over here!" you challenged.

"Tch." he muttered.

He put his drink down and removed his jacket as he approached you. He wasn't the type to turn down a challenge, ever. You'd be eating those words. But he fell right into your trap. While he was readying himself to show you up. You grabbed his wrist and used the slippery field to your advantage, spinning him around and making him fall. But you didn't take his brute strength into account and he pulled you down with him. You laughed as you rolled around in the mud, completely covering yourselves in the gross brown earth.

He found himself on top of you, kissing you softly. He was teasing, but you both smiled into each other's mouths. He began to rut his hips against you. The restrictive clothing you were wearing wasn't enough to stop you from getting wet for him, and it definitely wasn't going to stop his cock getting hard.

"If yer not gonna do what the fuck I told you, I suggest you make yourself useful and climb on my cock." he smiled. You nodded as you allowed him to pull your leggings off. He pulled his trousers down just enough to free his cock. You scrambled to position yourself right for him. He hissed, fingers gripping into your love handles hand helping you lower yourself down on him.

"Oh God... Bakugo-"

"Fuck," he whispered, "you're so tight." he told you. The compliment rushing straight to your core.

"Fuck me, please!"

"I don't fuckin' think so baby," he laughed. You raised an eyebrow at his speech. Isn't this what he wanted? "This is part of your training. And we aren't goin' anywhere until you use me to get yourself off. Three times, at least."

this is part of my ON THE JOB event

© 2021 fuwushiguro

[mnmovdoom]

grabbing the other’s hand so they don’t fall - any characters, I just like your writing!

Thank you! If that's so, then here are my OCs Magda and Wolfram!

It was a wide circle made up of large, dark stones covered in moss and erected towards the sky. In the centre, there was a flat stone placed horizontally.  The stones were mostly wrapped by blossoming ivy, like the oaks and maples and ash trees and undergrowth around them were not sufficient cover.

Since Wolfram had found the stones during one of his rides, the forest really was not sufficient cover. But there was no path leading to the stones, and even though the horses easily walked over the undergrowth, the interior of the circle and the nearing area were too cluttered with rocks and shrubbery. 

The most direct route to the stones was cut by a wide stream. Wolfram had managed to use the slippery rocks peeking out of the running water to reach his objective - not without having slipped once and promptly given up on being graceful, since he had soaked himself already…

But now he had the countess with him, and he wanted to take her to the stones without making a fool of himself or, worse, getting her soaked.

“I wonder who did that,” the countess commented from his right. They were still astride their horses, looking at the circle of stones across the stream. 

Wolfram pulled out his helmet and tied it to the front of the saddle, then passed his leg over his horse’s neck and slid to the ground:

“Giants,” he replied, very sure of himself. 

The countess hummed and dismounted from her palfrey. They let the horses loose to graze and she followed him to the stream:

“Why would giants build a circle of stones?” she mused. Wolfram shrugged:

“Maybe it was some sort of sitting? Maybe the standing rocks are the back of rock seats, but the rest is gone now.”

“Why would they sit in the middle of the forest? Maybe witches built this place,” At that, Wolfram gave her a flat look. She smiled. “How do you know this place is not cursed, sir knight?”

“I think I can recognise something cursed when I see it. Countess…” 

Magda just grinned. Riling up her favourite knight was fun.

They reached the stream and Wolfram pointed at the few scattered rocks peeking out of the water. Honestly, Magda thought that simply walking across the stream was more practical - but she was wearing boots and breeches and a gambeson over her tunic, while Wolfram was wearing full mail. She could understand why he didn’t want to go in the water, and she could indulge him by following his lead on the rocks.

“Try not to slip, Wolfram!” she chirped, once she stepped on the first mossy rock. It was slippery, and to better balance herself, Magda placed a hand on the pommel of her sword to keep it from swaying at her waist. To his credit, Wolfram was already halfway through - and this time he even made it without slipping.

Moments after he touched the bank, Magda joined him. Now, they just needed to climb a small yet steep incline and they’d reach the stones. 

The path that Wolfram had cleared when he had first discovered the stones, a week ago, was gone. The vegetation had grown back - thicker even, he could swear. Maybe, there really was witchcraft at work in this place. But not wanting to look like a lesser knight in Magda's eyes, Wolfram puffed his chest and advanced, stomping down and pushing grass and shrubbery to the side. 

Magda followed closely through the path he was clearing, but soon enough they were side by side, climbing a steep incline that was actually bigger than what it had looked like.

“Maybe witches really made this place…” Wolfram grumbled, aggrieved. 

“Or maybe this is a giant’s step to the sitting place?” Magda countered. There were plenty of loose rocks and twigs under her boots, and unconsciously, her hand found Wolfram’s, which in turn held hers in a tight grip. If one of them tripped, the other could hold them up - or they could both go down.

Halfway up Magda did slip on a loose rock, but Wolfram quickly pulled her up and she went nowhere near the ground. Wolfram had good reflexes, Magda had to give him that. But when they reached the top, it was Wolfram who tripped on a root and it took all of Magda’s strength not to dive after him and stop his fall, which almost resulted in her plummeting forwards. 

Still, Wolfram regained his balance, pointedly smoothing over his surcoat to hide his embarrassment. On her behalf, Magda was quite pleased with having held up a fully armoured knight.

They began to explore the circle of stones, looking around and up to the sky curiously, still holding each other’s hands tightly. 

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Stingray Merman (Kairius)

There is something about stingrays - or sea pancakes - that are very cute, so I wrote a stingray merman that was supposed to of been done during the month of May for Mermay! Oh well! Stingrays are very curious creatures, and so is this adorable boi. Enjoy!

Male monster x GN reader

A Curious Encounter

The storm had been troublesome, you had realised now: the dreary morning you had come out to walk along your beach was the proof that somethings were left in tatters; the storm of the season that had ruined everything in its path.

You walked through the dampened sands in your sneakers, a well-needed precaution you had decided in choosing carefully had the aftermath been calmer. The coastline had been strong in taking the storm for the entire night, but now, it was rather captivating seeing the wreckage.

You walked down from the short incline of rocks and descended further down to see the beach you had been coming to since you had been young. The shore was weak and fragile; debris and waste that had been swept ashore; a tragic sight indeed.

In the ruin, the shore was littered in aggregational carnage; the sea had brought forth some animals big and small, most of them lost to the wreckage. Your heart ached with those animals and creatures, had you been able to save them, you would’ve done it in a heartbeat.

The sand was troublesome in getting out of your shoes, but the feeling of it you didn’t mind really: had you the time, you would perhaps spend as much time helping to clear up with the locals, or even try and find some shells for your younger cousin, Evie - an avid and caring animal lover like you, she would’ve been overwhelmed at this all.

Let’s hope some of it had been cleared by the afternoon. I don’t think any child shall want to see this. You mourned drearily, moving off from the site as you moved away further to a secluded area - the area where the land dipped and gave you great access to the views of the sea, watching the water roar beneath you in its glory.

The rockpools had all sorts of creatures that you loved trying to find when you had been young, and you had taken Evie with you to find all sorts of things that had been washed up: a four-limbed starfish that made Evie squeal, part of an earring that you made a story of it belonging to a rich 17th pirate, shells of all colours and shapes.

You hopped along the rocks, carefully descending to where the cliffs reached high and the walls surrounded below if you wanted utter privacy or peace. Below, the waves crashed back and forth, as if angry for the loss of life too that had been taken. Carefully, you listened in, feeling how you calmed with being around the waters, in the blacked sands, watching the world go past around you-

There was a splashing sound that reverberated and bounced off not too close from you, too human that made you doubt it could be anyone out there. People came to this beach - there was no question about that - but it was way too early in the morning for visitors. No children or people came out here this early to explore - you had known this for years. 

The splashing maintained, as if someone was trying to get out a bathtub and the water and spraying and going everywhere, swaying, it brought you to come closer, following the noise, bracing the walls as you found yourself coming into the clearing of where most of the largest rockpools where.

The walls were sable and solid matte in colour, shining off they cast the opposite colours of the gloomy sky above; the waters rippling and tranquil.

You scanned each pool from where you could see, believing that your hearing had made you hear something that couldn't be there, the waves tricking you. As you turned once more to leave, the sound came from behind you, coming from the furthest one from you; as if begging for you to come to investigate.

You were careful in trying not to fall in, the rock edges were slippery with matter and it made walking across with some trouble, but you had managed to get to the furthest pool, checking each one but finding nothing of importance.

The sound grew louder, almost frantic of hearing you coming closer until you were standing over the edge, staring back to the sharp outline of a creature frantically trying to pull themselves out.

Their back was towards you as if this creature hadn’t seen you there yet, frantically trying to flap out of the waters to get themselves free. An eagle ray was common here, but when did stingrays of any type have humanoid arms?

You watched with awe and shock as you watched the humanoid creature tried desperately to get out, gripping in might at the rocks, trying to haul their heavy lower part out of the shallow water. When you lingered long enough on where their figure was in the water, their stingray body merged with their lithe and ghostly human skin, their back dotted in whites and pale blues, a spine trailing down the middle of their back down to their tail and caudal fin.

You could see that the poor thing had its arms and fins were connected, meaning it had much more trouble trying to pull up compared to if their parts were not connected. 

You hadn’t of meant to catch the creature off guard, but the sound of shock that had left your mouth had made the half-humanoid spin in the water to stare up at you, the most human pair of eyes staring back at you; utterly terrified.

The face resembled any man you had seen before, but the sides of their neck had slits that opened and gaped with every passing second that the two of you stared at one another. The stingray was male you could tell from the features: his short hair falling over his face, cobalt in colour and wavy in texture from either being out of the water or just natural, his eyes were large and wide, which held some curiosity as they looked you over; a blue hue that blended hazel in the inner ring.

With sharp cheekbones, pointed ears and a startling appearance, he was maybe the most beautiful creature you had ever seen before.

Your gawking had brought a pitiful cry to come from their lips, leaving your heart to ache even further for the seconds you watched him fail to break out his watery prison, backing as far as he could into the corner to get away from you.

“No, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” Your voice was soft and nurturing, trying to ease the merman into calming down and to make your presence less terrifying to him. He continued to stare up at you, his eyes taking you in, and you didn’t know whether he could understand you or not, but his beautiful haunting eyes made you believe he could.

His webbed fingers released the rocks he was holding onto for safety, his mouth opening and closing briefly. 

“You... you won’t?” His voice was quiet and peaceful, softly he spoke with a tinge of an accent that you couldn’t put down were from, but he was still stunning nonetheless. You stared further, nodding your head. “Of course, I’ll try my best. I-- How did you get in here?”

It was a stupid question: of course, the storm swept him in, but your mind was doing somersaults and your words had gone to mush to form proper questions.

“The storm,” his voice wavered for a second, his eyes watery as if he was going to burst into tears any second, “the storm washed me here. I-I got too close to the shore, I was too curious, and it pulled me away.”

“Curious?” You asked. 

“Curious, of the land.” He seemed ashamed by this, his soft porcelain skin tinged a blue in blush across his cheeks as he looked away timidly. “It’s okay, I’m going to get you out of here.” You promised with a reassuring smile.

His caudal barbed fin swayed with him and his demeanour and eyes lit up at your words, and suddenly, he was smiling! It was a sharp one too: broad as he beamed up to you, the sight so wonderful. “You will! You’ll help me?” His voice picked up in pace and pitch as he excitedly circled to come closer to you. Your cheeks flushed at the sight, so adorable you thought he looked, it was certainly a better sight than to see him woeful. 

You squatted over the edge, looking over his appearance: he seemed waifish and skinny, with a visible ribcage that showed that he wasn’t very big for his kind. His skin in areas around his arms were bruised and reddened from perhaps trying to climb out, but he overall looked okay.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

The merman grinned broadly, happy that you had asked him, “It’s Kairius.” You told him yours, your name was whispered along the wind by his soft voice; delicately did he say your name with such tenderness.

Kairius - or Kai for short since you had difficulty pronouncing his name - was quick to show his intent curiosity in humans and you, as when you neared to come to the back of him, his agile fingers came up in a swift move, coming to wrap around your ankle delicately.

“Wow.” he murmured to himself, marvelling at your skin and legs, touching, stroking and prodding at areas you hadn’t ever seen before, your nervousness and timidness for being touched in that way almost got you toppling over with him. “Hey, careful!”

His skin on his fingers was clammy from the water, squidgy in texture and soft, but the feeling of his grip around you had loosened, as he gave a timid smile back to you. “Sorry, I just,” he corrected himself, his cheeks flushed, “humans are just so... pretty.”

Your blushed deepened as you caught Kai off with your nervous laughter. “You can check it out when I get you out of here, okay?” Kairius nodded enthusiastically, waiting for you to engage in your next plan.

Your thought was maybe having to use something to pull him out using a pulley system that you could wrap around his waist. But you didn’t have rope, and you were certain none was lying around.

You got an idea, unzipping your hoodie, feeling the immediate chill that had cast along your arms, your skin had raised with goosebumps from the sudden dip in the weather.

The bite was chilling, it sent chills down your spine, goosebumps rising from a horror movie along your skin and soon enough, it was terribly bitter. You hung the sleeve below to Kai, smiling down to him with a simple request. “Do you mind tying this around your waist?”

Kairius smiled and obliged, clever enough to wrap the sleeve about his waist, the sleeve was long enough to go around his waifish torso, the rest of it drooped behind him, his fist clenched around the ball to keep it taut to him.

You grabbed around the limp sleeve that dragged through the water surface, gently you pulled it up, holding it to you, beginning the process of pulling the merman out. The water splashed and waded through his body, his barbed fin wiggled wildly over the surface of the water when you pulled it close to you, feeling the material stretch and wear out. You prayed that it would rip too soon, or else you would have to start over with another plan.

The water sprayed everywhere and the gap between you, the ledge and him were not too far, but you had initially wondered how deep the water had been - or lack of depth at all. It looked more like a kiddy pool than one that could keep a long merman trapped.

There was a grunt that came from you, the higher you pulled and heaved the stingray merman up, closer and closer, his freedom was calling to him and the relief to have him out too was so close; you could almost taste it.

Your back was aching, your fingers burning with the familiar feeling to rope burn but you remained determined to get him out in one piece, regardless of having sore joints. He was very close to you now, and when you grabbed him yourself by the narrow part of his waist, you were surprised to feel at his ribs, his skin the feel of soft leather, sleek like a dolphin hide.

You had gotten him out in one piece, but his skin was twitching, as if it was breathing on its own and had come to life, the skin had become twisted and withered, his flesh looked starved to the bone from being a few metres out of the water.

The most hideous noise came from his lips, the sound a dying animal would make when gasping for breath, a hoarse cry from the back of his throat that made you stop dead in your tracks, realising what was happening.

“Ah, crap.” You moved with clockwork precision, (or what you thought was that) moving backwards with him still in your arms, hurrying to the one place that could give him his freedom and save him truly.

The ledge off of the shoreline and cliff couldn’t be that high, could it?

There were no questions, only answers, it was surely not that high that it could kill him, but you didn’t know how his stingray body would react to falling from a height compared to a human who could dive off. You had seen humans jump off of this ledge countless times, not a merman.

There was no time to doubt, and with some heaving, the hesitation couldn’t wait, his heavy, long body was thrown over your shoulder, falling like a limp doll into the waters below; making your predictions carry over whether or not he would survive when his body hit the water.

There was a splash and a shudder from you, watching over the ledge to see any moment, anybody, and you waited, your heart doing flips - had I killed him truly? You had promised him his freedom and you had killed him all the same, like how humans could be cruel nonetheless, you had murdered one by accident.

You had hoped no one was around to see a giant man-size stingray falling from a height into the water below when you reached the caves below, running along to reach the edge of the cave mouth, watching on with the bubbles that rose through the opaque water.

The bubbles rose and rose, like ash in a rising volcano they spluttered and popped, growing in the many when finally there was a breach in the surface, the first thing you saw was the head of Kai, his beaming broad smile reaching ear to ear, as he gracefully swam with ease over to you. Thankfully, he didn’t look angry that you had dropped him into the water.

His swim was the equivalent to an Olympic swimmer doing the butterfly style but a lot better and more agile in fluidity, his arms moved as he glided through the water towards you until he was there, floating just inches from you.

“You saved me, thank you.” He was grinning so proudly and his smile was the prettiest thing you had seen, the blush had reddened on your cheeks at the sight, the merman drifting as if he had suddenly recalled something. “I’ll be back! I promise! Stay there!” And with that, the merman had disappeared within the murky waters of the black rush, vanishing like a ghost within the air.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to return once more, leaping out of the water to startle you not on purpose, his fins attached to his arms flapping, water going everywhere and dampening your shoes as he pulled himself to get support; a toothy grin still present on his face when he presented you his gift.

He pressed the shell into your palm and your eyes brightened up across your face at the sight: the inside was as if a rainbow and star had collided, its hue a stunning chrome spectrum of pinks, gold and blues - like stardust caught and stored for eternity.

“Do you like it?” Kairius leant closer into you, his eyes observing and drifting back and forth to your reaction and the shell. You nodded, “It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him, holding the shell close to you, “thank you.”

Kairius smiled broadly, pride obvious on his face when he relaxed beside you, the two of you caught in a conversation about your lives and cultures, amazed at his world below and how his story was incredible to hear.

You promised one another you would meet again, and you did almost every day: you had watched the beach be cleaned up since the storm, helping on days as much as you could when you weren’t busy, but they days had been spent in the little cave, sitting and waiting for your close friend.

This day he had come early to see you, and the promise you had given him those weeks ago couldn’t be broken: that was how you were found with him, Kai in-between your legs could’ve been such a sensual concept, but the true reasonings were much tender. 

The water slipped through your jeans, even when you had rolled them up as far as you could, but it was cooling and gave you tranquillity with the lower part of your body submerged.

“Are you sure?” There was hesitation in his voice, his voice wavered, his blue eyes had dilated as he took you in, looking over your features to see if you were comfortable with what he was going to do.

“It’s fine, Kai,” you reassured him enthusiastically, and it had calmed him greatly that he knew you were okay with this. With a hesitant hand, it came up to the side of your face, and ever so gently, using the back of his fingers, traced and stroked the length of your cheek, done towards your chin; marvelling at your flesh.

His fingers were ever so careful, you watched up close how tentative and the look of concentration and marvel he had at looking over everything in such fine detail, to look at the differences between human and mer, and he had a willing participant.

His hand had been on the other side of the matte sable rock, trying to keep it steady close to you as his other hand had kept him occupied, his body jutting forward suddenly as if he had lost grip of it and had accidentally slipped. You knew that he would’ve been more likely to be clumsy to his joints and the fins connected, but you had known that you would’ve had to keep him upright.

Your legs instinctively came to wrap around his waist, steadying him before he could crash and knock his head either on the rock or knock heads with you, but his head had still stilled just inches from yours from the action, the realisation came to both of you, neither of you sure how to react.

“I only heard stories of humans,” Kai began, his Adam's apple bobbing with his words, “not many mer had gotten into contact with them, but the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve were much more comely than I had ever imagined.”

Your body gave an involuntary shudder that reacted positively to his words, your mouth agape as he continued to speak. “I had hoped that you had been able to take my gift and enjoy it, I wanted it to mean a lot to you in how you saw it-- how I saw you.”

“How do you see me, Kai?” Your heart was racing by now.

Kairius gave a loving smile, his fingers came to touch at your face once more, evaluating you, “I don’t just see you as a human, but as my mate.”

Mate. The word was an odd one to you, but the feeling that swelled in your chest was euphoric, it breathed anew in your body and blinded your soul. It was terrifyingly beautiful.

“Kai-” “-You don’t have to say yes, I know it is quite a lot. Us mer mate for life and a human and merman relationship is something I’m wary of the reaction my family and kind would have.” He looked to his skin, the flesh he was made up of, it brought his face to frown in disappointment; defeated.

“I’m sorry I put this on you-- I should go.” He went to move off, to leave, but you had already taken his hand back, gently putting it back to the side of your face, staring into his quizzical eyes. “You can’t leave yet, not without hearing what I think.”

His head tilted, eyes trained on you as you confessed, “Yes, I understand how it would be difficult for reactions, but… I would want to give it a try, to delve into the unknown - wouldn’t you?”

His face brightened, eyes so wide you were afraid they would bulge out of his head. Without any warning or hesitation, Kairius had lifted you up and out off the ledge and taken you into the water, spinning you around in his arms whilst you squealed, holding on for dear life!

“You say yes? That makes me so happy! Ooh, I can’t wait to show you the shells I found for you, they’re -- what colours do you like? I can ask my friends over their mates-”

You had silenced him with your lips, his words muffled against your own, his eyes widened in surprise before he had wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back. His lips were damp and cold, but they were soft and delicate, his kiss was tentative and caring.

When you had pulled away, his face was blushed to the max, his face washed blue, looking as if he was down with hypothermia. He gave you a dreamy look, a small smile had adorned his face.

When you had pulled away, his face was blushed to the max, his face washed blue, looking as if he was down with hypothermia. He gave you a dreamy look, a small smile had adorned his face. You kissed at his skin, the smoothness against your lips was calming, peppering his face with hundreds of kisses. 

“I think a shell will do, but don’t worry, you’re the best thing I could have in this world.”

[one-boring-person]

I loved writing this idea, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Thanks for requesting @jawline-of-steel !💛💛

You Wanted To Talk To Me?

Edgar Frog x reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

A/N: this is heavily referenced to my other series, Only Traitors Consort With The Damned, which you can find on the masterlist.

Masterlist

"Man, just talk to her." Alan rolls his eyes as they stumble through the training course together, wet mud slicking their trousers and shirt fronts, hair and clothes soaked through from the pelting rain, bodies trembling from how hard they've been working.

"Talk to who?" Edgar responds, playing dumb as they throw themselves at a climbing wall, chests smashing painfully into the solid surface.

Neither if them speak for a minute as they haul themselves upwards, cresting the wall with some difficulty as their leaden arms struggle to hold their weight, their muscles screaming in protest, though they both manage it. From the top, the rest of the course is visible, a few other cadets just ahead of them, each of the pairs released from the starting point in "waves" so that they can be timed. Both of the boys sigh out audibly as they take in the view, not taking too much time as they swiftly climb to their feet and leap from the top, reaching for the heavy ropes hanging from a structure across from them, the rough material grazing their hands painfully as they slip down it a little. Ignoring the discomfort, they swing their legs in time with the momentum of the rope and kick off it, landing on a far platform, rolling as they land, ending up face first in yet more dirt, signifying the beginning of a net crawl.

"You know who I mean, Edgar. (Y/n)! You should talk to her." Alan manages to explain, voice strained from the exertion required to pull his body through thick mud.

"Why should I talk to her?" Edgar grits out, hands scrabbling frantically in the filth as he struggles to pull himself through this particular obstacle, glad to see the end if it not far out of sight.

"Because it's very obvious that you like her."

"I don't like her." The response is almost automatic, a reflex designed to protect his real feelings about their fellow trainee.

In truth, Edgar had had a crush on the girl for a good few months, having been interested in her as soon as he first laid eyes on her, nearly six months ago, when he and his brother signed up for the SRS. Neither of them had ever really thought about taking their vampire hunting that seriously, but this all changed when the dark-clad Soldiers converged on Santa Carla, their hometown, a couple of years ago, hunting down one of their own, who was seen as a traitor. The hooded men had come into the comic shop searching for some help, only to be confused by the Frog's zealous attitude and rough introduction to the supernatural side of the town, swiftly recognising potential in them. When their Hunt was over, the result of which they never found out, the men returned to the shop, offering to enlist them in the training program as soon as they turned the correct age, stating that the minimum age for joining the SRS is sixteen. Now at that age, the Frog brothers were quick to travel to New Orleans, where they found the headquarters and signed up, completing the theory section with flying colours before they moved onto the physically demanding practical side: hunting.

When they first started this stage, the two of them were easily overshadowed by some of the others in the group, despite already having four kills under their belts (so to speak), their smaller stature allowing some of the larger, physically stronger cadets to overtake them in the rankings, though it was much to their surprise when they found out one of the best was a girl named (Y/n). With a pretty much unknown backstory, the sixteen year old girl had shown up many of the other cadets, holding her own in many of the harder exercises, showing off her aptitude for shooting and fighting, flooring some of the most muscular rookies training with them with ease. It was no wonder Edgar developed a crush on her.

"Frog! I do hope you intend on moving soon, or you'll be stuck on clearing duty for a week!" A senior officer snaps at him from somewhere to his left, drawing him from his brief lapse into his head.

"Yes, ma'am!" He shouts back, knowing how they hate to be ignored.

"Get a move on!"

Gritting his teeth, Edgar follows his brother out onto the next stage - a variety of elevated logs providing bridges across a swampy areas of ground. In the pouring rain the logs have already become waterlogged, making them slippery and dangerous.

Approaching one, he leaps up and grabs the end of it, quickly heaving himself onto the narrow stretch of wood, catching his balance before he steadily steps along it, going with the incline as much as possible, biting his lip as his feet slip a little on the wood. Nearing the end of the log, he locates the closest one to it and jumps to it, landing shakily on the lifted end, repeating the process until he has safely crossed it, catching up to his brother as they run the last few kilometres across the marshy land, breathing heavily in the pouring rain. The finish line comes into view, the posts signifying its presence only just visible through the rain, the flags topping them slapping wetly against the poles they are attached to, concealing the familiar insignia of the SRS from view.

With one last push, Edgar and Alan throw themselves over the finish line, trying not to collapse in exhaustion as they quickly stretch out their stiffening muscles, neither of them saying a word until they've caught their breath back, going to stand with the other cadets who have already finished it.

"One hour, fourteen minutes and forty-three seconds. Not bad, Frogs, not bad." The drillmaster informs them as they get close, the two of them brightening up slightly at the sound of that; it's a new personal best.

"Nice one, you two." A familiar voice congratulates them, the two of them turning to find (Y/n) standing there, a genuine smile on her features, mud striping her cheeks like war paint, most likely the result of her team mate getting a little over-zealous on one of the obstacles.

"Thanks." Alan smiles back, looking to Edgar as he struggles to reply.

"Err, yeah, thanks, you did really well, too." He finally manages, blushing as he looks away, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Thank you." She acknowledges, making eye contact briefly before turning away, going back to her team mate.

"You're smitten." Alan rolls his eyes, looking over at his brother in exasperation.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Stop trying to hide it, Edgar, I'm your brother, I see all these things."

*

The drillmaster's words ring clearly in Edgar's head as he steps through the darkened corridors, making his way in and around broken furniture and piles of ceiling debris, his helmet limiting his vision greatly.

"Don't get caught off guard, or they'll have your ass for breakfast."

Of course, you'd hope that he was being metaphorical, but the cadets are all aware of one fact: he isn't. Not when they've all been tasked with clearing an abandoned hospital of the supernatural beings squatting there, particularly the wraithes and their carnivorous tendencies, most of which are to blame for the hospital's fall in the first place.

A piece of glass shattering behind him snaps him from his thoughts, the sound instilling a sense of fear into him as he slowly turns, freezing in place when he sees a shape in the hallway behind him. From where he is, he can't tell what it is, but he knows it won't hesitate to kill him, so he lifts the gun in his hands to shoulder level, cocking it gingerly, body shaking in fear. Aiming steadily, he let's the flashlight roam across the shape, only to let out a breath when he sees what, or rather who, it is.

"(Y/n)?!" He hisses out to her, surprised that she is in this part of the building.

"Edgar? Is that you?" Her voice floats back over to him, the cadet holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

"Yeah, it's me. You found anything yet?" He responds, secretly pleased that she actually remembers his name.

"No. Have you?" She clarifies, coming over to him, her gun held comfortably over her abdomen as she stays prepared, ready to shoot anything dangerous.

"Not yet."

"That's good." She looks him in the eye, "I kinda wanted to talk to you, though this probably isn't the best time."

Edgar gazes at her, surprised at what she is saying, an eyebrow lifting under the visor of his protective helmet.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I do." She nods, looking away again, her fingers tapping nervously on the stock of the gun.

"What about?"

She is silent for a minute, before she takes a deep breath and responds, relaxing her shoulders as she tries to stay calm.

"I just wanted to tell you about how I feel about you. Edgar, I know this is weird because we don't really know each other, and you probably don't feel the same way, but I, well, I like you. A lot."

There is an awkward moment of quiet between us as he tries to figure out how to respond correctly.

"You...you like me?" He finally manages to ask, not quite believing what he heard before.

"Yeah, I do. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I just thought you should know." (Y/n) explains, going to move past him, before he stops her with a hand on her arm.

"(Y/n), I've had a crush on you for the longest time, I just didn't know how to tell you." He informs her, waiting for a reaction.

"...really?"

"Yeah. Just ask my brother, he figured it out pretty quickly."

She smiles beneath her visor, clearly much happier now that the initial worry is over.

"I'm glad. Maybe when we get some free time, we could go on a date?" She suggests, adjusting her grip on the weapon.

Edgar smiles back at her.

"I'd like that."

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @pianomanblaine

December had never been Christine’s favourite month. She by far preferred April, with the twittering birds and the flowers starting to bloom, the sun finally showing its face again after another cold and dreary winter. Erik, on the other hand, had his own reasons for enjoying the winter months. Winter meant that the dark had already set in by late afternoon, allowing him to venture outside earlier without having to worry about his mask drawing too much attention. On top of that, this year’s winter was particularly harsh and cold, keeping most people inside their houses and leaving the streets of Paris as good as empty.

Christine didn’t really feel inclined to go out tonight either, but as Erik had been looking forward to taking his wife on a nice evening stroll for quite some time, she had agreed to leave the relative warmth of their underground home for a while. And so they made their way up, Christine wrapped in her warmest cloak, Erik’s arm draped firmly around her for extra warmth. However, when they finally emerged on the Rue Scribe, Erik’s excitement seemed to vanish as soon as he took in their surroundings. The street was completely deserted, not a single person in sight, which was easily explained by the thick blanket of snow covering the cobblestones.  

‘Oh no. No no no no no,’ Erik groaned, turning around as if he suddenly couldn’t wait to return home.

‘Erik, what’s wrong?’ Christine asked. She gently pulled him back towards her by the sleeve of his coat. ‘It’s only a bit of snow. That doesn’t mean we have to go back immediately.’

‘It does, if I have anything to say about it,’ he grumbled, glaring at the snow as if it had somehow offended him. ‘Snow is slippery, and it makes this awful crunching sound when you step on it, and it slows you down to a snail-like pace, which is incredibly annoying if you actually want to get anything done.’

As Erik ranted on, Christine let go of his arm and carefully took a few steps onto the snow-covered street, watching the small foggy cloud that formed when she breathed out in the cold evening air. She was immediately reminded of the winters she had spent with her papa in Sweden when she was a child. When it snowed there, he used to take her out to go sledding and she would scream with delight as they sped down the hill, her papa chuckling in her ear as he held her close to him.

‘Are you quite finished complaining now?’ she asked Erik. ‘Because I’m actually enjoying myself and I would like to stay out here a little longer.’

‘But Christine, I truly can’t stand snow,’ he replied with a pout on his face that Christine found rather adorable, although he would most likely throw a fit if she ever called him adorable out loud.

When Erik turned around, presumably to head back the way they came, hoping she would give in and follow him, Christine bent down and scooped up a small heap of snow, pressing it into a ball. ‘We’ll see if I can’t change your mind about that,’ she mumbled to herself and threw the ball in Erik’s direction, aiming for his back but instead hitting him in the back of the head.

Erik froze and remained completely still for what felt like an eternity, and Christine began to panic. Maybe this was a mistake. She had only wanted to make him laugh, to help him see that snow could be fun too, but perhaps he couldn’t see the humour of it at all. Just as she was about to apologize, hoping she hadn’t angered him too much, he turned back towards her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

‘I’m afraid you’ll regret that, my dear,’ he said and before she even had time to react he was already aiming his own snowball at her, which narrowly missed her shoulder. Christine shrieked in surprise and ran further up the road, trying to create more distance between them before gathering up more snow. They chased each other up and down the empty street, both of them squealing with laughter as they tossed snow at each other. Christine had to admit that her husband seemed to hit his target more often than she did, but she wasn’t really surprised that the Opera Ghost turned out to be rather competitive even at something as simple as a snowball fight.

She was delighted to see how much he was enjoying himself. It seemed she had succeeded in her mission. For a moment she just stood there, taking in the child-like grin on his face. How long had it been, she wondered, since he had last been this joyful and carefree? Christine tried to imagine a younger Erik, running around with other children his age, all of them covered in snow, their cheeks glowing red both from excitement and the cold. The image was a very pleasant one, until she remembered that Erik had never had such a happy childhood.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the snowball flying in her direction until it hit her square in the cheek.

‘Oh God, Christine, are you all right?’ Erik cried out, rushing towards her immediately, concern etched across the visible side of his face. ‘I’m so sorry, my love. Did I hurt you? Please tell me you’re not hurt.’ He ghosted his hands over her face anxiously, checking for injuries, but Christine was more than fine and she couldn’t help the peal of laughter that burst out of her. Erik looked quite affronted.

‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m not laughing at you,’ she assured him, turning her head slightly to kiss the hand that was cupping her cheek in apology. ‘It’s just… That was so much fun!’

A slow smile crept across his face. ‘Maybe snow isn’t so bad after all,’ he agreed.

They didn’t go out again in the following weeks, but Christine couldn’t stop thinking about that evening, remembering with fondness how much they had both enjoyed themselves and desperately hoping they would repeat the experience soon. She kept dropping hints to Erik, bringing up the topic of their little outing in the snow whenever she saw the opportunity, but Erik didn’t appear to pay much attention to it. In fact, he hardly seemed to be listening to her at all nowadays.

A few days after their snowball fight he had started acting very strange. He spent more and more time in his study, the door locked firmly behind him. He was often joined there by the Daroga, whose visits were suddenly much more numerous than they had been in the past. They would spend several hours in there doing God knows what, and every time Christine saw them emerge, Nadir would leave with nothing but a ‘good evening’ and a polite nod in her direction, and Erik would staunchly refuse to tell her what they had been discussing. In the end she stopped asking because she knew she would not receive a satisfactory answer anytime soon, and he stopped talking to her altogether.

One afternoon, when she had finally had enough of his continued silence and simply had to know what was going on, she decided to confront him. She found him standing at the front door, her cloak draped over his arm, and before she could even open her mouth to demand an explanation for his behaviour, he handed her the cloak and told her to dress warmly and follow him outside. Her first thought was to ask him why, but as asking questions had gotten her nowhere in the past, she settled for letting out a frustrated growl and doing as she was told.

A carriage was waiting for them on the Rue Scribe, their travelling trunk already loaded onto it. How was that possible? She hadn’t even seen him packing! Erik gestured for her to get in, and for a moment she considered throwing a tantrum, stomping her foot on the snow-covered stones and simply refusing to go anywhere until he told her what the meaning of all of this was. However, as stubborn as she could be, she knew Erik was just as tenacious and would not give in until she did what he told her to do. She climbed inside the carriage, but not before glaring at her husband with an expression that clearly said ‘if looks could kill, you would be dead right now’.

‘Erik, I am getting really tired of this,’ she sighed when he pulled the door closed behind him. ‘Tell me where we are going.’ She didn’t want to admit it, but his refusal to give her any information about his plans truly unnerved her.

‘Patience, my dear. You’ll see when we get there.’ The smirk on his face made it abundantly clear that he was enjoying this far too much for her liking.

They left the city behind, and as Christine hadn’t travelled outside of Paris much over the past few years, she lost all sense of where she was pretty quickly. The next few hours were spent in complete silence and she grew more and more anxious. What in heaven’s name was going on with Erik? He had never treated her like this, never ignored her as if her wishes and feelings were completely irrelevant. When she thought back to the very first time he had brought her to his lair underneath the opera, she remembered how even back then he had made her comfort his absolute priority. That had not changed after they were married. Until now. This was so unlike him and not having the slightest idea of what was causing this sudden change in behaviour made her sick with worry.

It was growing dark outside and the carriage was now driving through a forest, apparently leaving civilisation completely behind. By now, Christine was truly frightened and couldn’t stop the tears she had felt pricking her eyes for the past hour from spilling over any longer. When Erik heard her sniffling, he looked at her with panic in his eyes.

‘Darling, whatever is the matter?’ he asked, his hands reaching out to wipe away her tears, but she batted them away.

‘What’s the matter?’ she cried, not caring if she sounded hysterical. ‘It’s dark, we’re in the middle of the woods, you won’t tell me where we are going, and you have refused to talk to me for days! I’m your wife, Erik. I have the right to know what is going on, and I need you to tell me right now because you’re scaring me.’ Her soft sniffling had turned into full body-wracking sobs by now and this time she did not slap his hands when he pulled her towards him to comfort her.

‘Oh my dear, I am so sorry,’ he whispered soothingly as he let her cry on his shoulder. He started rubbing gentle circles on her back with one hand, something he often did when he was trying to calm her down, while he buried the other hand in her hair, which was more likely meant to calm himself down. Seeing her in distress always made him nervous, even more so when he knew that he was the one who caused it. ‘I never meant to frighten you, truly,’ he swore. ‘I simply wished to surprise you.’

‘Surprise me?’ She pulled away a little, wiping her cheeks dry, and looked at him incredulously. ‘By forcing me to come away with you and not telling me where we’re going or what’s going to happen next?’ How could he possibly think that was an appropriate way of surprising her?

He flinched at her words, and she realized he must be flashing back to the last time he had taken her away like that, after the disastrous performance of Don Juan Triumphant.

‘When you say it like that, it does sound like an idiotic idea,’ he admitted, rubbing his neck in a gesture of uneasiness. ‘You’re right of course, I should have talked to you. I am really sorry, my love, please forgive me.’ He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles, and glanced at her with a pleading look on his face. He sounded genuinely remorseful and Christine allowed herself to relax a little, although she wasn’t inclined to forgive him for what he had put her through just yet.

‘I still don’t understand. What exactly were you trying to surprise me with?’

The moment the question had left her lips, the carriage came to a halt.

‘Allow me to show you,’ he replied, throwing open the door and extending his hand to her in invitation. She only hesitated for a second before she took it and followed him out of the carriage. The snow underneath her feet made that crunching sound Erik had claimed to hate so much the last time they were outside. She took a deep breath, relishing the fresh night air entering her lungs.

Until now she had believed they were deep in the forest, surrounded by nothing but trees, but to her utter surprise she now found herself standing in front of a beautiful little cottage. There was smoke rising from the chimney, so the house must be inhabited. She had to admit she was curious to learn who was living here, so far removed from everything and everyone, no other houses to be seen for miles, but more than anything she was extremely confused.

‘Erik, what are we doing here? Whose house is this?’

He grinned somewhat sheepishly at her as he replied. ‘Mine.’

‘Now you’ve truly lost me,’ Christine said, gaping at him in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean, it’s yours? And if it’s yours, then who is living here? And if someone else is living here, then why are we here?’

Erik squeezed her hand to stop her from spewing out any more questions. ‘If you can stop talking for a minute, I’ll explain,’ he chuckled. ‘I acquired the house only a few weeks ago. Before that, it had been empty for a long time. I had always meant it as a surprise for you, I was just waiting for the right occasion to show it to you.’

Christine felt tears threatening to fall again, but this time, they were not tears of sadness or fear. Erik had wanted to surprise her, and so he had bought her a house? He really didn’t do anything halfway, did he?

‘I had the Daroga help me to move in some furniture. He has been here earlier, stocking the kitchen with food and other supplies for our stay, lighting the fire, and so on,’ he explained, gesturing towards the smoking chimney. ‘I asked him to leave shortly before we arrived.’ So that is what all the late night conversations with Nadir had been about then. She would have to thank the man in person next time she saw him.

‘You seemed to enjoy our last outing in the snow so much,’ he continued when Christine remained silent. ‘It made me want to take you out more often, but I wanted to make certain we wouldn’t be bothered by any other people around, so this seemed like the ideal solution.’

Christine was at a loss for words. How was it possible that this man who had grown up without ever knowing any kindness, who had been shown so much hate and contempt in his life, could still be so sweet and thoughtful? Admittedly, he could have gone about it all in a different way, but since it was very unlikely he had any experience with being surprised like this himself, she supposed she could forgive him his error of judgment.

‘Please say something, love,’ Erik begged. ‘Do you not like it? We can return to Paris immediately if you wish, but maybe I could show you inside fi-‘

Christine’s mouth was on his before he could finish his sentence, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. ‘It’s perfect, thank you,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘and I would love to see the inside.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ he murmured as he swept his giggling wife up in his arms and carried her across the threshold.

They stayed at the cottage in the woods for a couple of weeks, and it felt like absolute bliss to Christine. She got to spend more time outside over the course of the first few days than she had in the past couple of months and she savoured every second of it. Although Erik had never forbidden her from going outside, he was not particularly fond of going out during daylight hours himself, and she knew it made him uncomfortable when she left the house without him – she suspected a small part of him still believed that if she left, she would never return – so she had limited her excursions outside to a minimum. But now that she had the chance, she could not get enough of the fresh, crisp air of the forest.

On one of their walks exploring the grounds surrounding the house, they stumbled upon a small lake. Since it had been freezing continually for a while now, the lake was completely frozen over and Christine jumped up and down in excitement remembering the ice skates she had noticed among the supplies that Nadir had brought for them. After testing if the ice was solid and strong enough to hold them, Erik reluctantly agreed to fetch the skates.

Erik had never ice skated before, but Christine had enough experience to guide him through his first steps onto the ice. Once he had managed to make his way onto the ice without falling over, she took his hand and slowly started skating around the edge of the lake. He had a look of utmost concentration on his face and held out his free arm to keep his balance, but managed to follow her without incident.

‘See, this is fun, isn’t it?’ Christine said after a few laps around the lake, and although his answering smile was still somewhat hesitant, he seemed to be growing more and more sure-footed. After another lap he felt confident enough to try it on his own. Christine let go of his hand and watched as he went off, his smile growing with every step, obviously satisfied at having mastered another skill. He must have gained a bit too much confidence, because the moment she took her eyes off him, she heard him cursing and looked back just in time to see him stumble and fall, landing flat on his bottom.

She sucked in a breath and grimaced in sympathy. She had fallen over enough times herself in the past to know how much that could hurt. He didn’t seem to be injured too badly though, as he struggled back on his feet within seconds, but the smile had been wiped off of his face. Christine hurried over to make sure he was okay, but she couldn’t convince him to stay on the ice any longer. He sulked all the way back to the cottage, muttering that he had hurt his wrist in the fall, but his mood lightened significantly when she promised to kiss it better.

Erik did not always join her outside. Sometimes the need to compose would simply grow too strong and he would withdraw to the piano in the music room (of course the cottage had a music room, he would probably have refused to stay in the house if it didn’t).  On these occasions, Christine set out on her own, always promising not to stray too far away from the house, and by the time she returned, Erik often had a new piece of music to play for her.

Their evenings however were invariably spent together. Sometimes they would sing. ‘Being away from home should never be an excuse to neglect your voice, Christine, you need to keep it in shape,’ Erik never failed to remind her. Other times she would listen to Erik reading aloud from one of her favourite novels, letting his rich, seductive voice wash over her and lull her to sleep. But her favourite evenings were those they would just spend by the fire in companionable silence, Christine lying down on the couch with her head resting in her husband’s lap, his long fingers combing through her hair, which she loved so much that if she were a cat, she was sure she would be purring.  

Sooner than she would have liked, the last day of their little winter holiday arrived. Erik had business at the Opera to attend to, but he promised her they would return before long. Christine was determined to make the most of their final moments here, and as they had woken up to find the earth covered in a fresh layer of snow, they decided to go out one last time and make a snowman together. The morning sped by, and as Christine stepped back to take in the final result, she burst out laughing when she noticed the uncanny resemblance their creation bore to Monsieur Firmin, one of the two fools who ran the Opera, as Erik described them. Now she understood why he had insisted on finding some twigs to give the snowman a moustache.

That night they decided to retire early, as the carriage would be there to pick them up early the next morning. Christine was changing into her nightgown while Erik added another log to the fire.  She knew he did not do that for his own benefit, as he didn’t mind the cold much, but was thinking of her comfort, for which she was extremely grateful. It had been freezing outside and her fingers and toes had still not warmed up properly. She smiled gratefully at him, glad that he had already taken off his mask for the night so she could see his face as he gazed back at her lovingly. If his love for her could warm her physically, she would never be cold again.

Alas, that was wishful thinking. She shivered as she finished undressing and hurried to join Erik in bed, almost stumbling over her own feet in her haste to get under the covers. She sighed happily as she settled into his arms, rubbing her ice cold feet against his, causing him to yelp in indignation.

‘My love, even to my eternally cold skin, your little feet feel like icicles,’ he complained.

‘I know, I’m sorry darling,’ she replied, ‘but I simply haven’t managed to get warm all evening. My hands are still cold too.’ She placed her hands on his cheeks to prove her point.

He was prepared this time and flinched only slightly at her icy touch. He let her keep her hands there for a few seconds more before covering them with his own and bringing them to his mouth. ‘Allow me to warm them, then,’ he murmured, the sound of his voice sending shivers down her spine that had nothing at all to do with the temperature in the room. He began peppering her hands with kisses, starting at the tips of her fingers and making his way down over her palm to her wrist. He pressed a more lingering kiss there, caressing her skin with his lips, looking up at her with an expression that spoke both of adoration and desire.

Christine felt her mouth turn dry and pressed her arm a little closer to his mouth, unable to resist the sensation of his lips on her skin. She licked her lips unconsciously and noticed how his eyes immediately flickered to her mouth to follow the movement of her tongue.

‘You know what else feels cold?’ she whispered.

‘Do tell,’ he breathed against her skin, smirking at her, fully aware of the effect his touch had on her.

‘My lips. My lips are cold.’

‘Well then,’ he grinned, moving a hand to her waist to pull her closer, ‘I’ll simply have to warm them too.’

[theseerasures]

They try to smooth over things after everything melts, but explaining to the (mostly indifferent) subjects that their new queen has magical powers and had run away and now come back and that Arendelle was opening its borders after almost fifteen years of isolation is difficult work. Anna looks tired and the boy with her (Kristoff, Elsa remembers vaguely) looks tired, and Elsa feels tiredness clinging to her bones, so after a while she motions for Kai to take over and make their exit. (3)

As usual, Sven only gets a few steps up onto the crystalline staircase before his hooves slide him right back down.

“A few more weeks, buddy,” Kristoff says consolingly as he eases the grumbling reindeer back down to less slippery territory, “You’ll get your winter feet in no time.”

“I told you we should have packed his snowshoes,” Anna grouses, already halfway up herself, “But nooooo, it was all we don’t have time, Anna and it’s not even cold yet, Anna, and we’re going to the Forest and not the North Mountain, what are the odds–whoa!”

Elsa grabs her hand as she threatens to fall backward. “You don’t have to go up.”

“You don’t have to go up,” Anna fires back immediately, and then flushes a little at Elsa’s raised eyebrow. “I mean–obviously you have to go up, that’s the whole point of coming here. I only–”

“It’s okay,” Elsa reassures hastily, not bothering to let go and continuing to steady Anna as they make their way up to the Ice Palace’s main doors. “I know what you meant.”

It’s true; they could have gone back to Arendelle first and rested up before coming back here. But she needs to make this right, and she can, so why put it off? The sooner everyone’s restored and and back to normal, the better.

Olaf’s waiting for them when they finally get to the top. He looks uncharacteristically serious, but Elsa can understand why.

No sounds emerge from within the palace walls; everything is eerily silent.

“Should we…knock?” Olaf asks hesitantly.

“No need,” Elsa says, but she falters suddenly when she moves to push the doors open. When was the last time they were all here together? Kristoff makes pretty regular visits on the way to and from ice harvesting. She and Anna try to drop by when they have time, and of course Olaf tags along with any and all of them whenever he wants. But the last time they were all here at the same time might have been…

We were so close. We can be like that again.

Elsa brushes it aside. A memory from the ice, nothing more. It’s silly to dwell on all that now, when they’re coming back from another successful adventure. They won. They won again, and what they lost, she can easily bring back.

She’s here for a reason, and the sooner she finishes, the sooner everything can be finished. They can go back to their normal lives.

The door opens noiselessly at her push, and inside–

Anna gasps as Kristoff simultaneously bites out an explosive curse. Elsa barely registers either, too busy staring horrified at the countless piles of snow littered on the palace floor. It had been one thing to know what must have happened, or even feel it from the sudden hollow in her mind when she’d come back, but to see it all, here…

She always forgets how many of them there are, when she’s away. She always forgets how many she made, the number of lives tethered to hers.

“Elsa?” Anna’s concerned face looks blurry. “You don’t have to do this right now. We can–”

“I’m fine,” Elsa replies immediately, blinking hard so that her vision clears.

“You don’t look fine.” This time, Anna’s jaw sets when Elsa raises her eyebrow. “Well, you don’t! You’re all pale and your arm is busted and you have bruises everywhere and you have to be exhausted because I’m exhausted, and I didn’t even–”

She turns away abruptly, but not before Elsa catches that her eyes are suddenly wet.

Die. That’s what Anna had been about to say. Experimentally, Elsa brushes her fingertips with the pad of her thumb, feeling the sensation of soft flesh instead of slippery, hardening rime. She had died. Anna’s right to be upset–she has every right.

But she’s back now; that’s the important thing. Elsa reaches out to her sister, tipping Anna’s face gently upward so they can make eye contact. “I can do this,” she says firmly.

Anna sucks in a loud, noisy breath, and then nods. “Just don’t wear yourself out. Take breaks, or–or something.”

Kristoff clears his throat. “Can we…um. Help, in some way? I mean, some of them–” He winces. “Some of the piles kind of. Spilled into each other? What if we separate them, make it easier for you to…”

“No, it’s okay,” Elsa says, when it’s clear he’s not going to finish. There’s no confusing the snowgies for her. They might have been made accidentally, but her magic knows every flake that makes up their being. “I got it.”

She closes her eyes and concentrates. Feels the magic coursing through her, lifting the snow piles up from the floor. Feels their lives return and coalesce with the memory of all that had happened on the day they were born: the ecstasy of eating ice cream cake, the playful mischief of running across town, the dizzying joy of spending a day with Anna…

“Slush!” Elsa hears Olaf exclaim. “Oh, welcome back! And Sludge and Slide and Ansel and Flurry and Fridge and Powder and…”

Everyone back to normal. Not a snowflake out of place.

Elsa smiles. She opens her eyes–

And the world immediately tilts on its axis.

“Elsa?” she hears Anna say as her knees buckle and she sinks ungracefully to the floor, “Elsa!”

She’s never going to let me live this down, Elsa thinks, and then she passes out.

Heh, she thinks as she comes to again. Live this down. Live. See, because she–

“I’m sorry, is this funny?” A shrill voice demands from above.

Elsa opens her eyes to meet Anna’s outraged glare. “It’s not,” she says hastily. “Sorry. Are they all back? Is everyone okay?”

Anna stares blankly at her for a second, then crosses her arms. “Nope. Ansel has two heads now.”

“What?” She bolts upright, just barely avoiding a headlong collision with Kristoff, who’d also been peering down at her in concern. “How–”

Ansel grins up at her, very much still one-headed and bouncing on his little feet. “Oh, ha ha,” Elsa says sarcastically before moving to stand. “Okay. I think Marshmallow is–”

“Nope,” Anna says again as Kristoff firmly pushes Elsa right back down to the ice floor. “You’re gonna sit and rest for at least fifteen more minutes, then you can go fix Marshmallow.”

“Anna, I’m–”

“If you say you’re fine again I’m gonna clobber you with a stalactite. And I’ll make you replace it,” The mulish expression on Anna’s face falters, just a little. “Can you just–for me. Please?”

There’s no way to say no. “Alright,” Elsa says. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

Another hard, searching look, and then Anna nods. “I’m gonna go see what Olaf’s up to. Kristoff, you can keep an eye on her, right?”

“Sure thing.”

“I’m not a child,” Elsa protests at the same time.

Her sister doesn’t even bother with a response, so she just slumps back into a more comfortable sitting position, grumbling.

“There, there,” Kristoff says perfunctorily. “Is the whole hair-in-your-eyes thing a required part of being a spirit?”

“I was trying to make it dry faster,” Elsa grouses, passing him a hair tie. She feels him getting to work immediately; first combing through the tangles, then moving into the braid. He doesn’t seem inclined to chat, so she stays silent too, trying to relax.

It’s been a while since she’s had time to stop and think. Even after all the excitement of the dam’s fall, racing back to Arendelle, racing back to the Forest, there had been news to bring, plans to discuss, apologies to make: a nonstop whirlwind of discussion and movement. This is the first time she’s been still in hours, the first time the world has been quiet, just the sound of breathing and the cold all around, everything in sight an icy blue…

“Elsa?” Kristoff’s hands have stilled.

She flinches, feeling sick all of a sudden–something about the blue hurts her eyes. That hadn’t always been true, had it? She’d built this place, but now she can barely stand to look; something about the color reminds her of–

Dive down deep into her sound…

“Here.” Something heavy falls across her shoulders.

Elsa blinks. It’s Kristoff’s big coat–the one he takes in case he gets caught outside in a storm. “I’m not cold.” She knows what cold feels like, now.

“It’s good to have pockets. And here…” He sticks his hand into one of the pockets. “You should eat something.”

“I can’t eat that,” Elsa protests. He’s offering her one of his emergency ration bars, and she’s heard him complain enough about Oaken’s extortionate prices for them. “Don’t they cost a fortune?”

“I’ll put it on the bill.” He rolls his eyes when she continues to hesitate. “Elsa. Just eat it, okay?”

The thought of food makes her queasier, so she plans to just take a few bites for the sake of politeness–but then the whole thing disappears down her stomach, embarrassingly quickly. “I…guess it has been a while. Thanks, Kristoff–I needed that.”

“You need a vacation,” Kristoff says, “Or at least a nap.”

She doesn’t want to think about sleeping right now, if just staying still makes her stomach plummet off a cliff. “Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“Maybe? Look, Elsa–”

“Thanks for the food,” Elsa repeats, getting up. She keeps the coat on; it does feel nice, even if it can’t make her warm. “I’m okay to go now.”

“Elsa…”

“I’ll nap when I’m done, I promise.” Promise me we do this together. She climbs out the staircase alone. Leans a little against the railing; everything feels spindly, like she’s on marionette strings.

The sight at the top of the steps brings her up short. Marshmallow is an enormous mound of ice and snow near the balcony doors. Had he climbed up to bellow for help in his last moments? Or had he just wanted to return, because here is where…here is…

I know we can figure this out together!

Stop. She slams that memory shut. Get it together.

Still, Elsa finds herself moving slowly, as if taking in the room for the first time. She’d done her best to fix it up after the Thaw, but it’s never been quite the same. If she looks carefully she can still see some faint scoring on the walls from the ice blasts and fired crossbow bolts, and the chandelier…

She’d never had the heart to replace it. It had been a needless extravagance in the first place; she should have known better.

Don’t be the monster they fear you are!

Enough philosophizing. Elsa closes her eyes and gets to work. She sinks into the emotions she’d felt that day: the exhilaration of the build, of cutting loose, letting herself be free for the first time…but there’s an odd resistance to the snow here, like her magic is reluctant against itself. Then again: Marshmallow is her largest creation to date, so perhaps that’s only natural; she pulls a little harder, sensing the snow rise and converge as she lets the memories wash over her–

I’m not leaving without you, Elsa!

The icy pit in her stomach explodes outward. She’s freezing again. No; she’s frozen everything. Arendelle is suffocating under her magic, under her–why had she run–stay away–get back–get back in the cage–

Something thuds onto the ground. Elsa’s eyes fly open of their own accord and blue is the only thing she sees. She’s trapped down here–there’s no way out; she’d thought she had mastered the ice and now she’s paying for it. Something roars in her ears–Grandfather’s sword cleaving bloodily down–why can’t I move–why can’t I stop–

me? The dome is lined with ice and the world is endless blue–spikes rising out of the ground–monster–she’d thought it was just magic but it’s her, it’s in her blood–blue like Anna’s eyes on the fjord, wide and blank and frozen solid–right after Elsa had struck her–right through the heart–right through the heart–ANNA–

“What’s going on up there? Marshmallow, stop yelling! Let me–Elsa?”

No. Nonononono. Anna’s here. She can’t–

“Please,” Elsa manages to push out. Stayawayhelpme she doesn’t remember the rest. Her teeth are chattering and she can’t breathe. “Please. Please.”

“Okay, I’m–I’m at the doorway, Elsa. See?” Anna waves. “And I won’t come any closer until you’re sure it’s fine. Right? We’ve done this before. We’ve got this. You’ve got this. It’s not even cold right now. Kristoff, can you–”

“Yeah,” he says immediately, appearing at Anna’s shoulder. “It’s, um. It’s a little chillier here than the rest of palace. I can feel it here, but–” he takes a few paces back, “–not here, and it’s not spreading or getting colder. The ice isn’t looking any different, so I’d say it can’t be more than a five degree dip, at most.”

“You heard it straight from the ice expert,” Anna says, “And it’s not snowing, even a little–you’re okay, Elsa. You’re not losing control. Everyone’s safe. You made them safe. You made this room, and–” her voice wobbles, but rights itself again, “–and sure, some bad stuff happened in it once, but it’s not happening now. And it won’t happen again. We won’t let it. All you have to do now is focus on calming down, okay?”

Elsa takes one sharp, tight breath, then another. Her vision is still marred by wavy lines, so she reaches out, tries to steady herself–

And hits something soft and cold. Marshmallow is looking down at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “Elsa?” he rumbles.

She sags into him, a wet, wounded sound tearing out of her mouth. “Marshmallow.”

“Good,” Anna says as Marshmallow picks her up carefully and sets her on his shoulder. “That’s–thanks, Marshmallow. We’ll count that as your first thing, Elsa. You got four more? What else can you see?”

Elsa opens her mouth, but the word freezes in her throat, because the only thing she can see–

“I got this!” Olaf sings, bouncing in with the snowgies trailing after him. “Hey, big little brother! Welcome back.”

“Olaf,” Elsa exhales, feeling the corners of her lips flick up minutely. The tightness in her chest relents, a little.

“That’s two,” he replies, nodding encouragingly. “And now you have all these guys, and I know you only have to do three more, but I read in a book that it’s damaging to the family structure to pick favorites, soooo…”

The snowgies beam at her in unison.

Elsa lets out a soft huff; not quite a laugh, not yet. Then she begins.

–

“AH-ah-AH-ah!”

Her hands jump involuntarily. Sven grunts at her–half concerned, half irritated as the carrot she’d been feeding him suddenly gets coated in a layer of frost.

“Show yourself! Right now!”

It’s Olaf. It’s just Olaf, still in the Ice Palace regaling his brothers about their latest adventure while the rest of them get ready to go.

Well. While Kristoff and Anna get them ready to go.

Elsa lets out an embarrassed chuckle, resisting the urge to fling the frozen carrot off the side of the mountain so no one can see it. “Sorry, Sven.”

“No apologizing for another hour!” Anna calls out from behind the stack of blankets they now have to pile back onto the sled. “Kristoff, we’re starting the clock again.”

“I was saying sorry to Sven,” she protests, watching her sister huff and puff over the repacking process. “Are you sure I can’t–”

“Nope,” Kristoff says at the same time Anna says “Nothing productive for you for another day. Another week, maybe.”

Even Sven’s gentle headbutt feels rather pointed. “That’s absurd. I can–”

“Someone still wants to be smothered in blankets,” Anna singsongs.

“Anna–”

“Elsa! We did it. We won. We saved like, a ton of people, and you did maybe eighty percent of it by yourself, so will you just stay still for one whole second and appreciate that–”

“We live!” Marshmallow’s roar rings out of the Ice Palace and takes them all by surprise. “We live!” He shouts again joyously, the being she’d made out of misery and fear.

“Yeah.” Anna’s voice sounds small in its wake. “That.”

Elsa lets out a slow, deep sigh, and lets herself slump down against Sven. “It wasn’t eighty percent,” she mumbles into his flank.

A rumbling laugh, coming from the Ice Palace. Marshmallow again: “Good story! Good story, Olaf.”

“It wasn’t,” she repeats, not sure why she’s insisting the point when no one’s even arguing with her. She’d been trying to sound flippant, but now…now she just feels wrung out. Some Fifth Spirit. “You freed the forest, Anna. I didn’t–I just–it didn’t feel good. I don’t…”

She’s so tired.

Anna’s arms wrap around her. “That’s okay,” she says, pressing a firm kiss on the top of Elsa’s head. “You’re okay, Elsa. We’ve got you.”

Kristoff’s hand touches her waist a moment later, carefully enough that she doesn’t startle, gently guiding her to a position where she can be nestled in between all of them.

She doesn’t need to do anything but let herself be moved. Elsa closes her eyes, and leans into their embrace.

–

“Okay,” she says fifteen minutes later, “Just one more thing–”

“Absolutely not,” Anna orders as Kristoff says, “Sven, sit on her.”

[boykisserbuckley]

hi!! can i request buck + drowning??👀

I’ll preface this by saying I know nothing about the LA river, or LA, or how drowning works?? But I hope you like it anyway :)

It’s the end of a late shift, there’s a steady rain drumming down on the roof of Eddie’s truck, and the windshield wipers are working overtime. Buck’s humming along quietly to some catchy pop song, tapping his fingers against his knee in time with the beat. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t have enjoyed a drive home in a storm, but it’s better when he’s not alone—tonight, he’s got his best friend in the passenger seat and the radio on low. The truck is warm. It’s nice.

 The drive isn’t long, but Buck had insisted on sleeping at his own apartment for once, so Eddie is taking the long way home to drop him off. Buck hasn’t spoken since they left the station, but given how draining their shift had been, Eddie’s not surprised. They’re left sitting in a comfortable almost-silence, letting the rain and the music wash over them. 

Until, as Eddie goes to make a turn, Buck suddenly straightens in his seat. His tapping stops and he peers out the window, like he’s trying to make out something through the storm. Eddie frowns, shooting him a glance. 

“Buck?” he prompts, confused by Buck’s sudden focus. 

“Pull over,” Buck says. 

“What? Why?” 

“Pull over!” Buck repeats sharply. Eddie obediently slows, startled by the force in Buck’s tone, and pulls the truck to a stop next to the curb.

“What the hell, man?” he questions. He turns to fix Buck with a glare, but the other man isn’t looking at him. 

“I think there’s someone down by the river,” Buck explains, already unbuckling and making to open the door. 

“In this weather?” Eddie says. He doesn’t particularly relish the idea of getting out in the rain, but he knows what Buck is probably thinking—this much rain is likely to cause the river to swell, and it’s dangerous. Whoever is out there might need some help. Or at the very least, someone to tell them how idiotic it is to be out in this storm. 

Buck hops out before Eddie even manages to cut the engine. Eddie mutters a curse and follows. They’re both drenched in seconds, but neither of them turns to go back to the truck. Even if he’s wet and miserable, Eddie knows he could never leave another person out here if they might need his help. 

“Hey!” Buck calls as they near the river’s concrete banks, voice loud enough to cut through the thrum of the rain. “Hey! Are you alright? You shouldn’t be out here!”

Eddie holds up a hand to shield his eyes, squinting into the dark. He can make out, just barely, the figure that Buck must’ve seen. As they draw closer, the familiar thrill of adrenaline courses over him like a wave—because out there, clinging desperately to the wet, slanting concrete, is a kid. Can’t be a day over fifteen, if Eddie’s guessing right, and he looks scared. 

He must call something back because Eddie can see his mouth moving, but it gets lost to the storm. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, eyes wide as he glances over, “we’ve gotta get down there, if he slips—”

Buck doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Eddie can see what he means. The water is running in rivulets down the banks, and the river swells higher every second; if the kid goes in, they might not get him out. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “yeah, just be careful.” 

They tap knuckles the way they always do before a call, and then Buck starts inching downwards. Eddie follows, arms splayed to keep his balance. The incline isn’t steep, but it’s slippery with the water, and the angle makes it hard to stay upright. No wonder the kid was having trouble. 

Buck reaches the kid first. He shuffles down until he’s at his side, hands out in a placating manner. The kid has barely shifted since they arrived, and he’s shivering. From fear or from cold, Eddie can’t tell. The rain is freezing. 

“We’re firefighters with the LAFD,” Buck is explaining, when Eddie makes it down the rest of the way. “We’ll help you get back up safe and sound, okay? You’re gonna be fine.” 

The kid nods, but his eyes are wide with panic. Eddie can't help but notice that he's looking resolutely anywhere but at the water that's rushing below him, steadily climbing. 

"What's your name?" Eddie asks, edging down a little farther. 

"Andrew," the kid responds. After a moment's hesitation, he adds, "I– I can't swim." 

Eddie's gaze flicks to Buck's, just briefly, dread pooling in his stomach. A part of him wants to know what the hell this kid thought he was doing, going anywhere near the river by himself if he can't swim—another part knows that the reasoning doesn't matter. What matters is that Eddie gets him home safe.

"Okay," he says, "Here's what we're gonna do, Andrew. I’ll take your hand, and my friend here, Buck, he's going to get behind you, alright?" 

Eddie catches Buck's nod out of the corner of his eye, and sees him shuffle into position. 

"I know you're scared, but he'll make sure you don't go anywhere near the water. Okay?" Eddie smiles, hoping that it comes across as reassuring. Andrew blows out a breath, fingers still tight against the concrete. 

"Okay," he says. It's quiet enough that Eddie can barely hear him past the roar of the storm, still raging around them, but he catches it. 

"Come on, then," Eddie says, stretching out a hand. He braces himself against the canal wall with the other, making sure he doesn't tilt forwards with Andrew's added weight and send them both into the river. 

It takes them a moment of coaxing and gentle reassurance, but they eventually manage to convince Andrew to let go and reach for Eddie’s hand. Slowly, slowly, they start back up the slope, moving carefully. 

They're barely a foot from the top of the bank when everything goes sideways. Andrew's foot slides on the slick stone, right out from under him. Eddie tightens his grip immediately so the kid's hand won't slip from his, and he latches on to the upper lip of the concrete basin with his other hand, barely managing to keep his own footing. 

Andrew scrambles to catch himself and kicks out in desperation, one foot managing to hit Buck in the jaw, where he's still poised below. Eddie watches—almost as if it's in slow-motion—as Buck loses his balance, stumbles, and goes down hard. He yelps when his head clips the concrete, and then he’s sliding, clearly disoriented.

“Buck!” Eddie cries in surprise, and then he’s moving faster than he thought he could; he yanks Andrew upwards, pulling both of them back to their feet and over the edge onto flat ground. 

“Call 9-1-1,” he instructs, shoving his phone into the kid’s hand. Just in case. 

He whips back around, reaching for Buck before he’s even halfway down the slope. He’d hit his head, but otherwise isn’t hurt, and if Eddie can get to him before he hits the water—

But he’s too late. In the split second that Eddie had his back turned to take care of the kid, Buck had tumbled farther, unable to get a grip on the wet rock. Eddie’s hand brushes his, just barely, before the water catches him and drags him the rest of the way down. 

Eddie dives in after him without a second thought. Buck is normally a strong swimmer, but the water is high and moving fast, and on top of that he’s got a head wound. There’s no way this ends well for him. 

The force of the current takes him by surprise, threatening to take him under too. It’s dark and it’s pouring and he can barely see a thing but he clings to the canal wall long enough to spot Buck, a ways down, coming up spluttering. He’s clearly trying to swim, but he can’t quite get his limbs to cooperate, and he keeps dipping back under.

Eddie pushes off and swims for him, fighting the current. It batters him, hard and fast, and he hasn’t seen Buck pop up again. 

He pushes further forward, sweeping through the water for something, anything. Panic tugs at his heart, climbs into his throat, nearly enough to choke him, and then—his hand knocks into what feels like an arm, and he latches on before the river can tug them apart again. He drags upwards with all the strength he still has, until Buck breaks the surface. 

His head lolls, and he stays limp in Eddie’s hold. It takes Eddie a moment longer than it should to realize he’s not breathing. 

He’s not—he’s not breathing. Eddie blanks. His body moves on autopilot, struggling against the pull of the water to get both of them to shore. He doesn’t know how far down they’ve been swept by now, how far they are from the truck or from Andrew, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters, the only thing that’s ever mattered, is saving Buck. 

Eddie’s hand meets concrete again, and he scrabbles for a moment before he gets a grip. He scrapes his palms open on the stone but he manages, somehow, to drag both himself and Buck up out of the river onto the slope. He doesn’t waste any time trying to get to flat ground, not when Buck is turning bluer by the second. Eddie flips him onto his back and starts compressions, bracing himself against the awkward angle. 

“Come on, Buck, come on,” Eddie whispers, barely able to hear himself over the rain and his own breathing. 

Buck’s forehead is bleeding. If—no. When he wakes, Eddie knows it’ll drip into his eyes. He wants to reach up, wipe it away, but he doesn’t dare stop what he’s doing. He can’t stop, not until Buck starts breathing again, not until he opens those gorgeous blue eyes and shows Eddie that he’s okay. He can’t go out like this. Eddie won’t let him. 

“C’mon, you massive idiot,” Eddie hisses, frustrated nearly to tears, “Breathe!”

He slams his palms into Buck’s chest again, harder, feels a rib give way under with the force of it. And then suddenly, miraculously, Buck breathes. He jerks and coughs, trying to expel whatever disgusting river water is lodged in his lungs. What feels like an eternity later, Buck flops onto his back again, exhausted but breathing. He’s breathing. That’s all that matters. 

“...Eddie,” Buck rasps, his eyes fluttering open. They’re glassy and unfocused, and he’s having a hard time tracking, but Eddie has never been happier to see them in his life. He heaves a sigh of relief—though it comes out sounding more like a half-aborted sob—and finally reaches up to swipe away the drop of blood leaking into Buck’s eyebrow. 

“You’re okay,” he says, and he can’t help it. He leans forward, fully aware that he’s crying now, and rests his forehead against Buck’s. “You’re okay.”

They’re still sprawled out awkwardly at an angle, half on top of each other, breathing hard. Buck’s hand, trembling and cold, finds his and squeezes lightly. Sirens wail in the distance. 

Buck agrees, voice rough and quiet, “I’m okay.” 

also on AO3

(buy me a coffee?)

[midnightprelude]

@oftachancer and I put together another piece for @14daysdalovers​!

Pairing: Cassandra x F!Lavellan Rating: T Summary: Of course her first meeting with Cassandra's family would involve Lyanna Lavellan, three months pregnant, scaling the face of a wall. It was only natural.Not that she wasn't up for the challenge, but she had hoped not to meet Anthony Pentaghast while she was red-faced and sweating. Oh well. Read here on on AO3!

“I already like you better than the last four,” Anthony grinned, managing the ropes of Cassandra’s safety harness as she climbed higher. “I doubt any of them would have made it past the first incline, even before… How many months along are you now?”

“Three,” she sniffed. Did she look that large already? Creators, she felt like it. “I’m tenacious.” Her muscles burned and her shin smarted where she’d smashed against a foothold, but she had made it to the top of the ledge where Cassandra’s brother was beaming. As gorgeous as his sister, sculpted muscle from head to toe, his tee shirt clinging to his chest like- She dropped her gaze to where Cassandra was scaling, smiling down at her when she chanced to look up. “I’m glad, for your sake, you didn’t try to tell me I couldn’t.”

He was quicker to laugh than his sister, tiny lines about his eyes showing that he did so often. “I’d have missed all the swearing. What a shame that would have been.”

“Would you, now?” Lyanna smirked, adjusting her harness now that she was again on solid ground. She caught her hand traveling reflexively towards her belly and stretched it over her head. “I’m sure you would’ve heard a few curses if you attempted to stop me.”

“I know better. I couldn’t prevent Cassie from standing in her saddle. I can’t stop any woman from doing anything.”

“She’s taught you well, then.” Lyanna rolled her eyes on a chuckle. “Cassie, hm?”

“Yes.” Anthony checked the lines. “To both.” He glanced at her with a wry smile. “I’ll admit, when she told me she was seeing a ‘Lyanna’, I had a different image in my mind. Claw-nails and leopard print and high heels.”

“Not a pregnant elf?” Lyanna quirked a brow. “What about my name makes you think of claws and heels, do tell?”

“I guess I was thinking of most of the other power suits in our firm. Lots of claws and heels.” He grinned. “She said you were a red head and it got me thinking of- Well. Anyway. You seem a decent sort.”

“Got a thing for redheads, is it? I’ll have to let Cassie know.”

“Trust me, she knows,” he chuckled. “We mostly only had each other for a long time; it’s possible we know too much about each other. Do you have siblings?”

“No, but I’ve got quite a few cousins, and one in particular who knows much more than he probably should. He’s in a band. Catharsis? They’ve been in the news lately.”

“Yes! The instigators .” Anthony grinned. “I do love when flames are fanned. Powerful people do such ridiculous things to try and put them out, and leave themselves open to all sorts of interesting case law.”

“She said you’d say something like that,” Lyanna smirked, taking a swig from a bottle of water. Creators, she was going to be sore. “That you like hunting dragons. Would you take on the Imperium, if you had a case?”

“If I thought one could be won, certainly. So far, they’ve been cagey, but I see their sweat beginning to make the pavement slippery. It’s only a matter of time.” Anthony smiled lazily, flashing white teeth in a sharp smile. “But that’s business and I promised my little sister that I would take the afternoon off.”

“And she’s getting closer and closer to earshot, so we’d best watch ourselves.” Lyanna chuckled, leaning against the fake wall of rock behind them that extended nearly up to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Maker, no!” Anthony winked at her. “She might cut me off from the borscht. Had she made you her borscht? It’s exactly as mother used to make it. I’ve no idea how she manages. We have the exact same recipe.”

“She has.” A few times, in fact. “Folate is good for the babies, she says. Makes the kitchen look a bit like a murder scene with all the beets, but there’s hardly any denying her when she puts her mind to something. She made four gallons, once, and sent a good portion home with me. Cassandra is under the impression I don’t eat nearly enough.”

“She likes to take care of people. It’s easier to let her.” He smiled fondly down the rock face where his sister was dangling from her fingertips, searching for a toehold. “It sounds as though you’ve figured that out.”

“Took some time.” Heat rose to Lyanna’s cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to be cared for; she’d been alone and independent for so long that she hardly knew how to accept Cassandra’s offerings without distrust and scorn. Nobody was that selfless. Except, amazingly, Cassandra Pentaghast. “But I did. Yes. She does have that quality.”

“She never knew our parents, you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Not really. But she’s far more like them than she has a right to be. She’s a good kid.” He glanced at her, lifting a brow, seeing too much. “You get that, too. I like you.”

“Do I get a badge?” Lyanna tilted her head to the side. “Or a stamp? ‘Free to date Cassandra Pentaghast.’ I’ll stick it to my laptop so there’s no confusion.”

“Unfortunately not. Just my appreciation that you seem to see her as she is.” He shrugged. “Should I dislike you on principle?”

“I was under the impression that elder brothers tend to be very protective of their younger sisters’ hearts.” Lyanna sniffed, smiling slightly. She had been a trifle worried about his acceptance and had told Cassandra as much, but she’d waved it off. ‘Anthony is Anthony; he only cares that I’m happy. I very much am.’ “I’m relieved you think so. Did she tell you she carried me out of a construction site? I was more annoyed that I couldn’t walk on my own than grateful at first; I was certain she wanted something from me.”

Anthony chuckled. “She didn’t, but that sounds like her; I’ll have to pry the tale from her now.” He looked over the ledge. “Almost there!” he called encouragingly and received a disgruntled huff in reply. “Unless you want to tell me,” he glanced at Lyanna with a quick grin. “It’ll probably be a better story coming from you.”

“Oh, I’d rather not recount that particular tale.” Heat flooded Lyanna’s cheeks. An embarrassing tumble into a construction site she’d been protesting, followed by a broken ankle and a positive pregnancy test from a fling. “I’m sure she’d do it justice.” Cassandra was nearly at the top of the climb, thank the Creators; hopefully she’d arrive before Lyanna was dragged into a retelling.

Anthony quirked a brow at her, smiling lazily. “As you will.”

Cassandra puffed her cheeks, dragging herself up the last inches and pulling herself to sprawl on the mid-point landing at their feet. She reached for Lyanna’s fingers, brushing them with her own, dusting chalk between them.

Lyanna laughed, helping her up and wrapping her arms around Cassandra’s waist. “For a moment there, you looked like you very much wanted to toss us off the ledge! Congratulations.” She kissed Cassandra’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I missed you.”

Spectacular: the feel of her cheek curving in an answering grin and the ragged exhales of her breath against Lyanna’s ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“I love you,” the words sprung to her lips, but this time they didn’t make her twinge with anxiety at the sound of them in her voice as they had before. A simple truth, simply spoken, the statement muffled nearly completely when Cassandra tugged her closer and kissed her in earnest until they were both panting again.

[voltage-vixen]

"Cuff me, officer.” Gavin (NSFW)

“Finally!” MC triumphantly crowed.

She slammed down the top of her laptop and began to pack up for the evening. MC glanced at the clock and groaned when seeing it was a little after midnight. Gavin was not going thrilled when he found out she had broken her promise of leaving work at a reasonable hour for the third time this week.

“Maybe he won’t find out,” MC gulped, and toyed with the gingko leave bracelet on her wrist.

“That you ended up staying late another night, even after I left you off with a stern warning after the last incident?” a stern voice she recognized called out from the window.

MC spun around to find Gavin standing there with his arms crossed, shooting her a glare that could only be described as intense.

“U-Um,” MC stuttered, while awkwardly avoiding his gaze as he moseyed on over to where she was standing.

Gavin reached out to tilt her head, allowing him to confront MC directly. He saw her guilt-ridden expression and sighed in exasperation. Didn’t she realize that he wasn’t mad at her, but that her well-being was his main priority?

“Hey, you know I’m not trying to be a jerk, right? Upsetting you couldn’t be further from my true intentions,” Gavin comforted.

His face was now directly in front of hers, and MC could feel the warmth of his breath tickle down the front of her neck. Distracted by the golden tint in his eyes, MC’s cheeks began to flush and a bead of sweat dripped from her forehead. Gavin was SO painfully close; she couldn’t help but sneak a peek down the crevice of his white shirt. The slight glimpse of his rippled chest only made MC more aware of how alluring the evolver was.

“I’m aware,” she remarked. MC leaned in closer and fiddled with the drawstrings of the sweatshirt Gavin was wearing. “I know you’re always looking out for my prosperities."

The way MC was looking at him didn’t go unnoticed by the ever-observant police captain. Gavin’s hand tangled in the wavy locks of the producer’s hair, as he pushed her head closer to collide with his parted lips. His tongue danced along MC’s, and the cop’s free hand trailed down the cotton fabric of her dress to fondle the curve of her ass.

Not caring that they were in her company’s office, she pushed Gavin down onto one of the chairs and climbed onto his lap to straddle him. MC grinded her hips down onto Gavin’s newly formed erection, and she sucked hard on the side of his neck until a bright red mark was visible.

“You don’t mind that I left my mark on you, do you?” she purred.

MC’s lips crashed with Gavin’s, and he panted in a wild desperation, as she reached into pockets to pull out the handcuffs that he always had handy. Gavin’s eyes glazed with desire, and his trousers grew even tighter seeing MC dangle his handcuffs in front of his face.

“Is my naughty girl asking for a punishment?”

Gavin’s thumb pressed against her lip and MC obediently sucked on it, evoking a loud groan from her boyfriend. He could feel the dampness of her panties through his pants and Gavin impatiently thrusted his pelvis upwards, grinding through the fabric of their clothing, while pressing up against the sensitive nub of her clit.

“Yes, sir,” MC huffed. “Cuff me, officer.”

Gavin didn’t need to be told twice. He snatched the handcuffs from MC’s grasp, and promptly snapped the links onto each of their wrists. MC held up her wrist and experimentally tugged Gavin towards her while taking in her new restraint.

“Bondage suits you, Mr. Gavin,” she chuckled, before omitting a small shriek when Gavin firmly grasped the sides of her waist.

“Stand up,” he ordered. “Stand up and put one of your legs over my shoulder.”

MC reluctantly executed his command and inclined between his thighs. Trying to balance herself on the chair, the handcuffs joining them together clanked, and MC grabbed the hair on the back of Gavin’s head. Following his instructions, she threw her leg over his shoulder and quivered when Gavin’s teeth tugged away her underwear to the side.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

His tongue rubbed against MC’s clit before entering her slippery opening. The way he delicately stroked every inch of her sodden heat, and sporadically wringing the sensitive bundle of nerves longing to be touched was nearly enough to push MC over the edge. She tried to prevent herself from bucking like a madwoman, but the feeling of pleasure was overwhelming. And GOOD. There was no way MC could stop herself from humping his face.

“Oh, yes! Don’t you dare stop, Gavin!” MC urged amidst her satisfied mewls.

Ignoring her whines of complaint when he pulled away, Gavin temporarily abandoned his mission, and instead mischievously glinted at his lover.

“This is supposed to be a punishment, remember?”

Gavin and MC precipitously rose into the air and he tightened his grip on her. She anxiously squirmed while Gavin’s connected hand solidly supported her back, and the other shuffled his pants down to his ankles.

“Ever have an orgasm in the air before?”

“Obviously n-AH!”

MC’s voice hitched into keen hisses and her body violently convulsed from the sensation of Gavin’s member stretching her narrow walls. There was something erotic about the fact that they were making love in the air in the middle of her company’s office floor. The immodesty of the situation intensified MC’s arousal, allowing Gavin’s gliding movements to be brisker than normal. Her fingers entwined into his linked hand, and she whispered sweet ramblings of affection, enjoying the sentimental intimacy of becoming one with him.

“I love you,” MC muttered, as her stomach somersaulted signifying she was close to reaching her peak.

“Me too,” Gavin grunted, whilst the walls of the woman he loved fluttered around him.

Gavin soon reached his own climax and moaned in gratification from the explosive release of his load. He floated back down onto the chair, allowing MC to burrow into his warmth by closely snuggling up. She was reveling in the sound of his soothing heartbeat, when the sight of Gavin beginning to unlock the handcuffs distracted her.

“Wait!” she protested with a pout. “Can’t we stay together like this for a little while longer?”

Gavin bopped the tip of her nose with his finger, before leaning his own nose in to nestle against hers.

“With or without the handcuffs, we’re always going to be together anyways,” he affirmed. “I would never let anything stand in the way between us.”

“Promise?” she asked and stuck out her pinky for confirmation.

Gavin twisted his pinky around hers and nodded.

“Always and forever,” he pledged. “Although, we should probably go be together forever somewhere else rather than your office.”

Giggling, MC resignedly allowed Gavin to remove the handcuffs from their wrists. Resting her head on his arm, her fine gentleman escorted her to the elevator, but not before whispering into her ear with a vow of all the torturous ways his punishment would continue later.

[allycryz]

Duende - Uri & Haurche :3

PG because Haurchefant makes innuendo, set during early Stormblood.

The first draft of this was super easy to get out. The edits were a little harder because Urianger’s voice is very different from mine, but a good challenge all the same!!

‘Tis expected of a Scion to battle as expertly as one might pen a treatise. Urianger schedules two ventures per day to hone his physical talents: a bracing run before dawn and a lengthy solo training session at dusk. For the latter, he takes to the rocky shore along the coast line. The precarious climb to his preferred spot (providing both privacy and space) is part of his regimen.

Urianger picks the times when visibility is low and most residents occupied. Small talk is not his wont, nor is he at ease with those not in his immediate circle. There is something about his unmasked, unhooded face that gives strangers tacit permission to approach.

His position and decorum dictate that he engage somewhat in chatter during his errands. The residents do not press overmuch, for which he is grateful. Still, the task fits him worse than the too-small aldgoat leather gloves Lyse gifted him on his last Nameday. (Except, those he could not put on as easily as he might a polite demeanor. They refused to go past the breadth of his palm.)

There are days when the convenience of sunrise and sunset for sundry reasons, prove incompatible with other needs such as visibility and safety.

The unexpected rain pours down as he wends his weary way up the cliffs. It sluices through his hair, running rivulets over his brow. For the dozenth time, he swipes at his face and squints against the onslaught.

His feet remember where to place, his hands where to grip for balance. These are his cliffs and his winding, narrow path. No one knows it better. Should that memory etched into his muscle fail, a fall here would not be deadly.

‘Twould be painful though, and impact his duties for the next few days. For that latter reason–above all–he takes longer than usual along the rain-slicked terrain. 

There, he thinks as he nears the safety of the plateau. Urianger blows out a soft breath of relief, relaxing muscles he has kept tense during the arduous journey. For this stretch he has always found it best to walk sideways, arms spread for balance. It has never been a treacherous spot, simply steep enough to warrant caution.

Today, treachery comes at last. He takes a step up the incline, shifts to lift the other foot. The slippery grass beneath his boots gives way and both feet shoot out from under him. He has enough presence of mind to throw his gravity forward rather than backwards.

The impact is unpleasant but survivable; naught but his palms and dignity scraped. Dirt and mud bespatter the front of his shorter training robe. The cotton garment ends below his knees, the boots just above. Thus the joints are spared injury besides a dull ache. He chooses an ignominious crawl up to the plateau rather than risk another fall by rising on the sodden incline.

The rain is not so courteous as to clean his garments. It does offer some reprieve as he turns his stinging palms up to the sky and rubs the rainwater against the creases of grime and grass.

Ah, well. Rain is uncommon enough that he should be glad when it comes. Should his comrades ever summon him to battle in such precipitation, he shall be well-prepared. Lord Haurchefant oft speaks of how training in winter climes these five years have better forged him for difficult conflict. (Urianger suspects it is not only snow and ice that stood in the knight’s way.)

He finds himself smiling, thinking of his new colleague. Though their base is near underground, ‘tis not wholly cut off from the outside world. Vents let in sunlight, rain can be heard pouring upon the streets. Like as not, Haurchefant put a kettle on soon as he perceived the change in weather. 

The Waking Sands are enchanted to remain a cool temperature. If the sun does return in full force, they shall not overheat drinking cocoa.

Befouled, bedraggled, and besodden; he returns to the outskirts of Vesper Bay. The twilight and the rain have not put off the residents. A knot of people gathers near the market stalls, the hum of their voices rising just above the thrum of rain upon roof and stone and sea. The citizens hold cloaks and hands over their head as shields, one has a parasol meant for sun and aesthetics. 

‘Tis a lovely pink one with expensive-seeming trim. A shame it is likely ruined.

The reason for their cluster becomes apparent. Lord Haurchefant is the focus upon which they circle, tallest among them save two other residents. His silvered head is bent to them as they harken to his low voice. This eve, he has garbed himself in a long scarlet coat over his usual apparel. ‘Tis the first time he has donned sleeves since his arrival.

 (For all the good it did me to be tempered by winter, his lordship had said. It does make me rather pitiful in a desert. I shall do my best to acclimate to Thanalan.) 

They all gaze upon him with utter rapture. It has ever been so, since his lordship’s residence began in the Waking Sands while Urianger’s comrades and Haurchefant’s love continued on to Gyr Abania. Their adoration is not due solely to his fair countenance or noble title, though both must aid the cause.

There is an...openness in him that beguiles all he meets. Urianger has witnessed the surliest residents and most peevish of vendors open like blossoms to the sun when Haurchefant turns the glory of his attention upon them. Such an unusual power he has seldom witnessed and never from so kind a soul as this knight.

There is no avoiding this throng, even would it not be unconscionably rude to avoid his guest. At least there is a smaller chance of strangers engaging him in conversation. Not with a beacon such as Haurchefant seizing their attention, both intentionally and involuntarily.

“-suppose he will be alright, he knows the land better than I.” He hears Haurchefant saying as he approaches. His noble brow is drawn down, his battle-sculpted arms folded. “But do let me know if you see him. No one expected this rainfall.”

Doth he….speak of me? Urianger wonders. As if attuned to his thoughts, his lordship turns his way. Surprise, then relief, and then rapture all pass across his handsome features.

“Urianger!” He exclaims. “Thank the Fury. I was worried–I know you favor treacherous paths,and with the dark and the rain…”

“I am well,” says Urianger. “Thy concern is much appreciated and noted. ‘Twould have been a perilous journey had I not been close acquainted with yon cliffs.”

Haurchefant steps towards him, gaze sweeping up and down. Lingering on his bare face, throat, and collar. “It seems it was perilous for your clothes. Let’s get you inside and taken care of, yes?”

One of the crowd smiles at Urianger. Mara, he recalls, the tall Hyur woman who hawks fruit.  “Well, we’re glad you’re alright, ser. I was just telling June that I worry when I see you go off in the dark.”

“Ah,” he says, trying to recall which is June. The baker. Yonder woman with the braids who oft gives thee extra tea biscuits. “Tis not my intent to cause worry. I am well versed in the land and how best to scale it.”

“Even knowing that, do be careful.” Mara gives an imperious nod. Others nod as well, their eyes on him and not the handsome knight.

He can only nod again, bearing and smile stiff. He does not recall all their names. It makes him feel the most ill-mannered of scoundrels. He sweeps into a bow towards them, hoping it goes to some measure in repaying their concerns. “I shall endeavor to have a care, my lady. Your solicitous care bringeth warmth into mine heart, ‘tis only right I do well by all gathered.”

She smiles and pats his arm. This seems a signal for all to disperse, more residents bestowing upon him pats and nods. It is a wholly alien experience, and he considers he may be lying at the bottom of the cliff in the midst of a delusion. Surely he is not dear to all these people with whom he barely speaks.

“Come friend,” Haurchefant says. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and have something warm in your belly.”

“Thou art just as sodden,” says Urianger. “Pray also attend to yourself. Thou shouldst not catch sick for mine sake.”

“Ah but I would have done so gladly if I had to save you today.” The knight’s smile is wide again, fair dazzling in its potency. Again, Urianger is astonished any resident would look at him with Haurchefant there. Do they not sense the charm radiating from his very core? “I do thank you, for arriving when you did. There are much better games we might play in the dark than hide and seek.”

Urianger near trips on the steps up to the door. Of course, Haurchefant is there to catch him, strong hands righting his balance and smoothing over his back. 

“I beg thine pardon,” says Urianger. Regretful that he has no mask or hood to hide the heat upon his cheeks. As Lord Haurchefant is cheeky himself to everyone, he is likely used to it. ‘Tis not the first time Urianger has witnessed or received innuendo delivered so warmly from this man. “Mayhap I used more energy than I surmised, during my exertions today.”

“Yes,” Haurchefant nods, opening the door. “All the more reason for you to come relax with me once you have cleaned up. I shall not have you burying yourself in work when you have earned respite.”

“For a little while,” says Urianger. He glances back at the streets, at the residents seeking shelter in houses and under awnings. At the way some of them look at them–at him. Relief and concern and warmth in their gazes. He frowns and cannot lose the change to his mien, even in the warmth and dry of the building.

Haurchefant pauses at the top of the stares, giving his shoulders a roll before beginning his descent. ‘Tis late and his friend is often tense in his upper body by the time supper comes. He will need help working the knots loose again. Perhaps Urianger might put off his tasks even further to repay Haurchefant’s worry and concern.

As to everyone else in Vesper Bay, he is at a loss on how to make recompense.

His friend reaches the door to their sanctum and turns back, looking up at Urianger still upon the landing. “Dear Urianger, what is the matter? That’s a rather pensive expression.”

“...I didst not realise the depth of their regard for mine person. Yon residents and I art not particularly close.” He shakes his head.

“Oh,” says Haurchefant, that entrancing smile returning to his mouth. “Do ask me an easier one next time.”

Facetiousness is not Haurchefant’s way. The ironic reply seems out of character. “Yes, I am aware the reasoning seems difficult to determine-”

“‘Tis not.” Haurchefant’s eyes crinkle with laughter. It does not sting–there is no malice in it. He doubts such a quality resides in the knight. “You are quite charming, even when cloaked. It inspires others to take interest in you.”

For the second time, Urianger says “I beg thine pardon? I am not given to using mine wiles-”

“No, no. We should all be in trouble should you do it apurpose. But you have a natural draw that leads people to want to know you. As you signal that is not what you want, they have kept their distance.”

It is an absurd supposition that Haurchefant says with all the conviction of his noble heart. So much does he seem to believe it; that Urianger wants to also trust it, if only for his friend’s sake. “I am...uncertain of the validity of thy premise. However, thy kindness and belief warms my heart. Wouldst that every man hath such a friend as you, my lord.”

At this, Haurchefant lets out a clear, ringing laugh. Again, there is no mockery in it. The sound is joyful and pleased, as seductive a sound as every part of the man. ‘Tis a wonder such a man as he thinks his draw is mirrored in Urianger.

“So I must endeavor to convince you of it, till you are no longer agreeing to humor me.” Haurchefant opens the door, shivering at the blast of magically cooled air upon his wet person. “Well, I look forward to the process. One could do far worse than spending an evening convincing a beautiful man of his charms.”

To that, Urianger has no answer. Nor does Haurchefant expect one. He winks and enters the Waking Sands, door closing behind him.

It occurs to him and the rapid beating of his heart, there is a reason he perceives Haurchefant as charming and beguiling and the one who everyone should desire. Projection has not been a key failing of his, but he has fallen prey to it before. And presently, it seems.

And Haurchefant is correct in one thing: there are far worse ways they might spend the evening. Perhaps Urianger shall put his work on hold tonight, to see the knight’s endeavor in full.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Musically Inclined (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: Red isn't supposed to wake up with his Judge missing from his bed, thanks. Guess he should do something about that.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was too fucking early in the am to be awake.

Even Edge was still asleep, and he always got up about half-past the asscrack of dawn to go for a run. The space in the bed between them that Rus usually occupied was empty and had been for long enough that they’d drifted closer, practically cuddling together. Red didn’t have a problem with that, exactly, hell, his bro was toasty at night, their own personal bedwarmer. Except that Rus was supposed to be there. Not off getting into shit on his own.

Little brat was slippery as an eel when he wanted to be and he’d slithered off fuck knew when, damn him. Red was always reluctantly impressed whenever he made one of his escapes, but damn it, one of these days he was going to turn their lanky little brat over his fucking knee. The point of them being around was to keep his bony ass safe, not because he and Edge felt like crawling up it.

Well. Not all the time.

Luckily, Red knew a trick or two of his own. He managed to escape from Sir Clings-A-Lot over there and wasn’t Edge gonna be pissed when he woke up alone? That was a problem for Future Red to deal with, Right Now Red had a brat to find.

It was kinda a relief and a disappointment that he didn’t have to go far.

Their living quarters were expansive, as they fucking well should be for the Judge and his Chosen. Large, airy rooms with plenty of wide sofas and squashy chairs, perfect for napping and cuddling, and scotch-guarded within an inch of their lives for any time they needed to handle their Official Duties. A television with all the best tech hooked up, movies and games, everything anyone needed for electronic entertainment. There was a well-equipped kitchen that Edge usually put to good use. Not only because his high HP made checking the ingredient for any tampering a cinch, but if Red and Rus were stuck cooking, they’d be living on frozen waffles and pop tarts. A bathroom with a hot tub big enough for a double orgy if Red wasn’t more inclined to ripping body parts off anyone who even gave Rus a nudge, much less tried to get a peek at what he was hiding under those flowy robes.

The only thing it didn’t have were many windows. No skylights, no big ol’ panes of glass to let in all the golden sunshine. There were plenty of overhead lamps to make up for it, it wasn’t a lack of light that was the problem for their honey. Their suite only had one picture window, complete with a window seat and that was where Rus was sitting, a burning cigarette held between two fingers.

He looked alright, considering he’d given a Judgement yesterday. No lingering shadows beneath his sockets, his magic glowing softly, healthily, in his joints. Rus was only wearing a tank top and a pair of pajama pants that prolly belonged to Edge from the way they were sagging off him, willowy thing that he was. Bare, bony feet sticking out of the too-short legs and from the way his toes were starting to curl, they were cold. No wonder, the curtains were drawn back and one of the windowpanes was cracked open, wide enough for Rus to tap the ash outside.

Rus didn't smoke often these days. Said all the Monsters out there looking up to him didn't like the idea of an avatar of the Angel carrying around a pack of Marlboro's. Far as Red was concerned, they didn't know what they were missing, and he was just fine with that. Rus smoked like there was only one thing he knew what to do with his mouth and the way his tongue curled behind his teeth, mouth pursing as he blew out a cloud of pale smoke was its own form of divinity.

Red climbed up to sit across from him, stretching out his much shorter legs alongside Rus's so that his foot was pressed lightly to the inside of one femur. He held out his hand and Rus handed over the pack wordlessly, offering the lighter when Red shook one out.

He made a show of lighting it first, inhaling a drag of hot smoke and breathing it out with, "ain't supposed to be over here alone, sweets."

Rus shrugged, but his mouth thinned, teeth tightening around the filter. "i'm fine."

Wasn't even close to the point and Rus knew it. Red let it drop, this time. The glass was bulletproof and if a sniper could manage to bend a bullet enough to hit Rus in the brain pan through the narrow, opened pane, then having an entire fleet of guards around wouldn't make much difference.

They smoked together in silence, watching as the paling darkness slowly brightened, the sun climbing back over the horizon. Red could still remember seeing his first sunrise, standing cliffside along with the other lower guard, his brother at his side as he watched all those unknown colors as they streaked across the sky. Didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching ‘em.

He wondered where Rus was in those days. Rus didn’t talk much about before he was a Judge other than saying flatly that he was nobody. Couldn’t be that simple, though. The Queen knew him back then, had to be some kind of story there.

But then, Red had his own reasons for not thinking much about the old days, a fact that came out and bit him on the coccyx when Rus chose to speak again.

"do you remember when we were kids?" Rus said, softly. His face was turned towards the window, pale eye lights watching the bright disk of the sun as it crested. "before we came to the surface?” He shook his head with a soft laugh. “remember all the trouble we used to get into with grillby in those days, we’re lucky we got out alive."

Red took a steadying drag off his cigarette, ignored the painful lurch in his soul as he breathed it out. "yeah, i remember. wasn't you, though, honey."

He didn’t know how to decipher the little smile that curved Rus’s mouth, secretive as Mona Lisa’s twin brother.

Usually, Red could get a pretty good read on people, but eh, most people weren’t a Judge, now were they. Those pale eye lights didn’t gutter out, his voice was only his own, only Rus as he said, "it was, a little. a part of me, anyway. do you ever wish you’d had a chance for him to choose you instead of me?"

Yeah, that was a land mine question wasn’t it, and Red had a foot firmly on top.

Red loved Rus and didn't have a problem telling him. He'd whisper it against the side of his skull, breathe it into his mouth, spell it with his tongue against his cunt, shout it at a fucking press conference if that was what needed to be done. It was the truth and he wasn't gonna deny Rus for anything. But some things weren't up for discussion and some answers shouldn’t ever hit air.

"don't," Red said gently. His ciggie was burned almost to the filter and he took another drag anyway, tasted bitter, burning cellulose. “don't do any good to think about the past, anyway."

"heh, i spend half my life living in the past." But Rus sat up straighter, tamped out the butt into the ashtray and that unpleasantly unreadable look turned to one that Red knew all too well, playfully mischievous. "now is pretty good time to be in, though. you want me to suck you off?"

His cock surged to form before Rus even finished the last word and Red was already kicking off his shorts. "you ever need to ask?"

There was something about seeing Rus on his knees. He lived in symbiosis with the Judge, he was an avatar for the Angel herself. And yet here he was, kneeling before Red as if he was something to revere, not some thug who managed to wrangle a place in the guard, tricked and tripped his way up the ladder until it came time for a Choosing.

Both Rus’s hands were on Red’s femurs, holding them apart as his thumbs stroking the insides absently, but that wasn’t the real show. His face, now, that was where it was. Sockets closed, his expression one of the purest bliss while he sucked luxuriously, worshiping Red with his mouth, fuck. Like an obscene sheath around his cock, soft and plush, lined with velvety golden magic and his formed tongue curled around the shaft, the tip teasing at the head.

Rus hadn’t always been so good at this; once he’d been a flustered virgin, not knowing how to ask for what he needed and more than a little desperate not to take anything they weren’t willing to offer. He and Edge spent a good amount of time diligently training that out of him. Gone were the days of accidental teeth scrapes and awkward choking, one time even a genuine bite from a nervous beginner. Nowadays Rus went down like an expert and Red could only bite back a groan and let the student take over as the master, watching greedily.

Gorgeous bastard. There wasn’t a thing in the entire fucking world Red wouldn’t give Rus, no dust he wouldn’t grind into his hands for the chance to watch this, the slow glide of his dick in and out of Rus’s mouth, crimson ectoflesh glistening wetly between thrusts and a thin rill of that golden saliva trailing down Rus’s chin.

Fucking gorgeous was what he was and Red wiped away that thread of wetness with his thumb, raised it up to lick it clean, filling his mouth with the taste of Rus’s sweetness.

Barely, Rus’s sockets slit open, pale eye lights flicking up to watch Red’s face and he wondered vaguely at what Rus saw there. Whatever it was, he liked it, humming appreciatively, and the vibration made Red gasp, knees jackknifing against Rus’s grip, trying to clutch against his skull as Red hunched over him.

“you little shit,” Red groaned out and fuck, he could feel that chuckle, didn’t do him no favors when it came to stamina, neither. Didn’t have much as it was and none at all against this brat’s teasing.

He heard the footsteps before Rus did, but that was his job, even when he was balls-deep into his Judge’s throat. His brother came around the corner, fucking finally some back up. Still in his own pajamas, black silk of course, pretentious fucker, but he froze at the sight of them, his eye lights flaring.

Maybe it was Edge’s indrawn breath Rus heard, maybe the clatter of his phalanges as they clenched into fists. Whatever it was, he paused, sockets widening as he started to pull off, and nope, that wasn’t on the agenda. Red set a hand on the back of his skull and pushed hard, forced him back down until he was swallowing desperately against the pressure of a cockhead against the back of his throat.

That little move got him a scowl from Edge that Red met with a smirk. He wasn’t hurting Rus none and if his bro wanted to stop him, all he needed to do was come on over and join the fun.

From the way his hands were jerking at the ties of his pants, that was pretty much the idea.

Red let Rus strain a minute longer, his breaths coming in frantic little puffs through his nasal cavity, fingers clenched tight in the window seat cushion. Then he let up and Rus drew back enough to glare up a Red, those pretty, pale eye lights tinging towards gold that was as bright as the sunlight filtering through the window. Heh, didn’t escape his notice that Rus didn’t pull off completely and the curling flex of his tongue made for one hell of a distraction. Red stroked a hand across Rus’s skull apologetically, taking care with his sharpened fingertips as he murmured, "don’t move, sweetheart.”

He didn’t, kneeling obediently still and his sockets went wide as Edge’s hands settled on his pelvis, gently drawing him up until it was nicely positioned with Rus’s hands braced on the floor for balance. His loose pajama pants were tugged easily down to his knees and Red couldn’t get a good angle to see what his bro was doing, but when Rus made a high, startled sound, the fresh vibration around his cock made Red groan, trying not to come right then.

He could hear the slick sound of his brother's fingers moving. No surprise there, Rus was probably already soaking wet, the inside of his femurs painted with it and his clit swollen and sensitive to even the lightest touch. Kid had to get fucked, that was simply part of who he was. What made it even better was that he fucking loved it, wasn’t any virgin left to their sweet little Judge these days, but a hot, lovely blush still flooded his cheekbones as Edge fingered him, whispering encouragingly, “That’s it, love, you’re so wet, so perfect. Relax now, let me in.”

Rus’s hips were shifting, flexing, trying to ride whatever rhythm those fingers were following, senseless little sounds gurgling in his cock-filled throat turning to whimpers of dismay when they withdrew.

“hang on, honey,” Red told him breathlessly, fucking hell, he was getting too close, they needed to hurry it up or this spitroast was gonna turn into a duet. “hang on, let him get his cock in you.” The shush of Rus’s knees was loud against the rug as he spread his femurs as wide as he could with those loose pajama pants of his still tangled around his legs.

"Shift up, love," Edge murmured. His cock was out now, Edge stroking himself generously until deep crimson pre-cum gleamed at the tip. All ready to fill their honey up and it was worth watched Edge's face as he lined up and sank into him, fuck yeah. Made for a hell of a show the way his expression tightened, mouth falling open, sockets squeezing shut and revealing more than his bro probably realized. It was good to see, some resentful little part of Red glad that he wasn’t the only one utterly absorbed by this brat.

Rus’s rhythm got lost somewhere in the middle, his mouth going slack around Red’s shaft. That was okay, couldn’t blame him for being a lil’ distracted with his bro filling him to the brim with dick. The angle wasn’t a good one for Red to get a peek, but it was a sight he’d seen before, his bro was packing a formidable piece and he went in deep, their pelvises clacking together on the first hard thrust.

Rus wasn’t even sucking anymore, tears and drool running down his face in thin, golden streaks but Red didn’t mind taking over. He gripped Rus’s jaw in both hands to hold his head steady on his wobbly neck as Red fucked that pretty face, rode the soft, plush tongue that wound around his shaft.

So fucking worth it, Rus struggling to take him, trying to follow along, but he and Edge were running the show now. Fucking was like making a song, the slick sound of Edge’s cock moving in that tight pussy matched to the messy slurps of Rus struggling to swallow Red down, with a chorus of Rus whimpering and pleading in gurgling cries. All those harsh, obscene noises building up into a shatteringly vulgar crescendo.

There was a choice to be made, face or swallow, and Red grunted out a curse as he pushed in deep, holding Rus’s head down as he came down his formed throat with a hot spill of burning seed. Some part of Rus must’ve liked that, the taste of cum or the rough handling, ‘cause he shuddered and came too, his groans sweet and muffled, as guttural thick in his throat as the cum he was swallowing down.

Distantly, Red could hear Edge groaning, too, probably decorating their pretty honey’s cunt and thighs with his own shade of crimson, but right then, it was all white-hot sensation and losing himself, losing little pieces of himself to Rus the way he always did.

S’alright. Rus already had a pretty firm hold on his soul. May as well let him keep the rest.

-finis-

Read the Next Chapter

[thewarriorandtheking]

Thief In The Night

A little Warrior and The King/Fantastic Beasts crossover story, because who doesn’t like nifflers? And can you imagine one loose in Erebor?

The Warrior and The King MasterList 

Warnings: Silliness and shiny things

******************************************

“My king, what are you thinking about?” Kaylea Wolf asked, running her foot up the inside of Thorin’s leg. They were in his office, drinking coffee and looking over some old maps, Kaylea was sitting on the edge of his desk. Thorin Oakenshield looked up at her with a soft smile, about to reply when his wife suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“What have you done with my jewelry?” She demanded, pointedly not looking in Kaylea’s direction.

Thorin scowled at her. “Why would I do anything with your jewelry?”

Shurri drew herself up, her hands on her hips. “It is all gone! Even all the jewels on my dresses. What is the meaning of this?”

“Why do you assume I had anything to do with it?” Thorin replied angrily. He glanced at Kaylea, saw her incline her head towards the door. “Show me.”

Shurri snorted, turned on her heel and stalked off towards her apartments. Thorin followed, with Kaylea a few steps behind. When they reached her rooms Thorin could see the place looked almost as if it had been burgled; drawers open, clothes strewn about.

Kaylea scanned the scene from the doorway, knowing the Queen would not want her inside. “How long was your majesty away from your rooms?”

Shurri’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, not wanting to acknowledge Thorin’s Woman. Suddenly there was a shriek from the hallway. Thorin was immediately out the door, he and Kaylea hurrying down the corridor. Freya, Thorin’s daughter, was standing in the door of her apartments, her face white.

“Someone has been in my room!” She exclaimed as soon as she saw her father. “All my jewelry is gone!”

Kaylea quickly walked through her apartments, the scene was the same as the Queen’s. Freya’s jewelry chest was open and empty, as she stopped to inspect it she caught a glimpse of something small and black disappearing under the wardrobe.

“Do you have a cat, your highness?” Kaylea asked, moving slowly towards the wardrobe.

“Puss is just there,” Freya replied, motioning to the tabby cat regarding them quietly from the bed.

“Another cat. A black one?” Kaylea slowly knelt down.

“No.” Freya shook her head. “What are you doing?”

Kaylea knelt and lowered her head to the floor. There was a black creature under the wardrobe, not a cat. It was chubby and soft looking, had a bill like a duck, bright eyes and almost human hands. As soon as she laid eyes on it the creature shot across the room and past Thorin out the door, without giving anyone time to react. It was amazingly fast.

“What in Mahal’s name is that?” Thorin asked, as they hurried to follow it. When they got to the hall it was already far up the stairs. “It is heading towards my rooms!”

Kaylea paused, sending a mental call to Ajax to come to her. She knew he was in the city, probably down in the kitchens looking for a handout. She felt the touch of his mind and knew he was on his way as she followed Thorin up the stairs. Thorin stormed through his rooms, opening the door to his bedroom to find an extraordinary sight. The little creature was sitting on his dresser, all the drawers were open and it seemed to be stuffing rings into its pouch. As soon as it saw them it disappeared over the mirror. The little animal was fast.

Thorin looked over his things. “It has my crown,” he said. “Where did it put it? It certainly was not wearing it.”

Kaylea closed the door. Thorin’s apartments were huge and as fast as that animal was, it could be anywhere. “I guess that pouch is much bigger than it looks,” she said. “You have never heard of this animal?”

Thorin shook his head, bending down to look under the furniture. “I have no idea what it is, but I want my things back.” His face was dark.

They split up, each taking a side of the room, moving slowly, inspecting every place it could be hiding. Suddenly Kaylea saw Thorin lunge forward, the little creature was running around the bed, heading for the door. Kaylea jumped and got a hand on it, but it flowed out of her grasp then flattened itself to slip under the door. She pulled the door open to see the creature frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Freya standing in the doorway to the hall.

“Do not hurt it! Look how cute it is!” She knelt down, holding her hand out. “Come here, I will not hurt you.”

Kaylea watched as the little animal took a few steps towards her. She realized it was not focused on her face, but her necklace, swinging free from her neck as she bent over. In what seemed like one smooth motion the creature jumped forward, grabbed her necklace, stuffed it in its pouch and made a break for the door. Freya grabbed at it, but missed. Thorin and Kaylea ran past her, the animal was already far down the hall. They chased it through the princes’  apartments, then saw it start down another stairway only to suddenly back up. Ajax was coming up the stairs, his yellow eyes fixed on the little creature. It looked quickly back at Kaylea, then the wolf, considering its options. It chose the stairs and ran right at Ajax, he grabbed it in his jaws, the animal squeaked loudly and somehow freed itself, shooting between the wolf’s legs and away. All three of them ran after it, into the Hall of Kings. Kaylea saw it pause and run straight for the throne.

“The Arkenstone,” she said quietly.

“I think not,” Thorin said, his voice murderous. He realized he still had the piece of quartz in his pocket he had picked up in the mine that morning. Quickly judging the distance, he pitched it at the running animal, the rock hit it square on the shoulder and sent it sprawling. Ajax, who was close behind, was on it in a flash. This time he held it down with his paws, holding its head in his mouth. Thorin immediately grabbed the creature by its feet, giving it a sharp shake.

“Give me back my things, you little shit,” he growled. The Raven Crown fell out of the animal’s pouch and rolled across the floor, accompanied by several rings and chains. Thorin handed it to Kaylea and stooped to pick up his crown. The thing had fur like ruffled velvet and was incredible slippery, but she found its feet were easy to hold on to. It was very much heavier than it looked, she was amazed it could move so fast loaded down with jewelry. The animal kept curling up, chittering softly, as if to protect its pouch. Kaylea held it by one foot and poked its belly, this seemed to tickle it so she poked it harder. As she did so a stream of jewels and jewelry began to flow out onto the floor.

Thorin looked at the growing pile. “I am going to boil that thing alive.”

“Do not say that, father!” Freya exclaimed breathlessly as she came up. She was fascinated with the little creature. “I do not think it meant any harm. It just likes shiny things! And look how cute!”

“Cute,” Kaylea said. “And not something that should be running loose around Erebor. Imagine if it got into the treasury.”

Shurri strode up behind Freya, her face astonished at the pile of gems and jewelry the creature has stashed in its pouch. “Where did this thing come from?”  

Kaylea glanced at Thorin. “Any ideas, your majesty?”

Thorin looked thoughtful. “Not yet. I wonder if it was deliberately sent here to steal the Arkenstone, or the treasury, or both.”

“Possible, but it acts like a wild animal,” Kaylea said. “And it is certainly not the only creature to be attracted to shiny things.”

“Can I keep it?” Freya asked hopefully, giving her father a pleading look.  

“Absolutely not,” Thorin frowned at her. His daughter was such a lover of animals. He would prefer to wring the thing’s neck and be done with it.

“I will take care of it,” Kaylea said, grabbing the animal by both feet and giving it a sharp shake, as Thorin had done. Shurri’s best necklace fell out on the pile. “I have a way to keep it safe. Find out if it belongs to anyone, and if there are more of them.”

When they had recovered all the family’s jewelry, and much more they did not recognize, Kaylea walked back to her quarters, holding the animal by its foot. Ajax walked close beside her, ready if the creature wiggled out of her grasp. The little animal made soft squeaking noises, trying to free itself. Then it spotted the mithril beads she wore on her braids and tried to climb up her arm to get them. Once in her rooms Kaylea put the animal in a stasis box, there was no way it could escape and Erebor would be safe. As she watched the lights on the box turn green to indicate the animal was safely contained, she could not help wondering if it really could have fit the whole treasury of Erebor in its pouch.  

The next day many enquiries were made and the city thoroughly searched. Erebor was a great center of trade and there were always many people coming and going, but no one admitted to losing an animal. It was possible its owner had moved on not knowing it was missing. More importantly, they did not find any more of them. Freya badgered Kaylea with questions. Was the creature getting enough to eat? Could she see it? Kaylea politely put her off, reassuring her the animal was getting the best care and she would not try to convince her father to let her keep it.

Late that evening, Thorin and Kaylea were walking along the battlements when they saw a familiar figure approaching. There was no mistaking Radagast the Brown, even at a distance. Tall and lean, his brown robes showing the signs of long travel, a goshawk on his shoulder and a spring of oak in his short-brimmed felt hat.

Kaylea bowed as the wizard came up. “Radagast the Brown, what a surprise to find you in Erebor!”

The Brown wizard smiled. “Yes, I would not be here if my errand was not urgent. The Lonely Mountain is beautiful, but this city gives me a headache. Anyway, an associate of mine has…ah, misplaced…one of his animals. Have any of your jewels gone missing, your majesty?”

Thorin scowled. “Only my wife’s, my daughter’s and my own. We caught it before it got any further.”  

“So, you have it! That is good news!” Radagast nodded quickly. “An unfortunate lapse in judgement on my friend’s part. You should never bring a niffler anywhere near a Dwarf city! Goodness, no!”

“A niffler?” Kaylea asked. “Is that what it is called?”

The wizard smiled. “Yes. Harmless little creatures really. But they do love precious things.”

“They certainly seem able to steal a great many,” Thorin scowled at the wizard. “Where do they come from?”  

Radagast put on his best mysterious wizard look. “There are many creatures in Middle Earth that live unseen alongside us. The niffler is one.”

Kaylea smiled. “I would not dispute that, but this creature has no equal as a thief. What does this associate of yours do with it?”

“He has a scholarly interest in magical creatures,” Radagast explained. “And he does keep quite a few of them, but he is an honest man. He came to the mountain looking for a particular animal on the high slopes, I ran into him searching the forest for his lost niffler. Of course, I knew immediately where it had gone. He was completely unaware there was a city on the other side of the mountain, like me he spends most of his time away from them.” The wizard chuckled. “I told him I would retrieve his animal, as I am known here and he is not.”

“I want that thing out of my city. I will hand it into your keeping if you promise you can prevent it from getting loose again,” Thorin said. “And if you take it far from here and give me your word it will not come back.”

“You have my word,” the wizard replied solemnly.  

Kaylea led the way to her quarters. Radagast gave her a startled look when he saw the stasis box. “A magical box for a magical creature,” Kaylea explained, laying the flat square of metal on the table. “I trust you have a way of catching this thing when I open it.”

She touched the edge, there was a shimmer of blue light and the niffler appeared. It looked at them and started to launch itself, but Radagast held out a hand and spoke a few words. The little creature happily sat back and let the wizard put it in his robe. Radagast gave Kaylea’s box a curious glance.  

“What it that, if I may ask?” He asked. “I have never seen the like.”

“Something from my homeland,” Kaylea said, slipping the box into a drawer. “You might say it is a place of many wonders.”

Radagast laughed. “Since you come from there also, I must agree! Thank you both, I will be on my way. And do not worry, your majesty, you will not be bothered by this niffler again.” He bowed to Thorin and took his leave, striding purposely along the gallery towards the gates.

“For a wizard, he is not so bad,” Thorin said thoughtfully, watching his retreating back. “Though it does concern me we have never seen one of these creatures before. I hope there are not many more of them.”

“I cannot imagine they are very common,” Kaylea said, leaning against the doorframe. “If they were the Dwarves would have encountered them long ago.”

“That is true enough,” he turned toward Kaylea with a mischievous smile. “It occurs to me I never did answer your question the other day.”

“Mmmm…,” Kaylea responded, running her fingers down his braid. “Then shall we finish that conversation?”

“Talking is not exactly what I had in mind,” Thorin slapped her playfully on the butt as he followed her into her quarters and shut the door.  

[freddy-hughes]

Trials and Tribulations: Ivory Tusks

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | 

Freddy wandered forward for what felt like days. 

Haskell lead him endlessly into the forest, the two having to stop more than necessary for Freddy to rest. He felt weak, and though the forest had claimed what it wanted from him, and let him bloom anew, he didn’t feel the same rejuvenation he thought he would. The bite on his neck didn’t heal, no matter how many herbs he stuffed into the punctures, or how tightly he bandaged it. They would have to stop by any running body of water to wash the blood, and puss from the cloth before reapplying it. 

“Where are you leading me, buddy.” Freddy asked the little fox, who was patiently waiting for him a few feet away on a felled tree trunk. “Any idea?” He was answered with a chirp, but Haskell seemed more keen on keeping silent than talking since he woke up. “No clue, huh? Just keep walking, right? We can do that.” 

Freddy was heaving as he made it to the tree, body drenched in sweat as he leaned against it to catch his breath. He felt so weak, and that scared him. Was the venom just slowed? Was it still eating him from the inside out, and he just didn’t know it? All valid questions, but no one had the answer. 

“Just let me rest a second, buddy. Just a second.” Freddy begged, leaning himself a little more firmly against the moss covered bark. He hauled himself with the last of his energy up to its height, so his legs could dangle over. They were on a small hill, the vantage point allowing the two to survey the way forward: which wasn’t much. Just endless trees. However before them the forest seemed denser than what they had previously traveled through. The trees grew closer now, the trunks wrapped firmly in moss, and the density of the leaves overhead making it dark, and oppressive. 

Freddy pulled his water flask from his hip, and took a few hearty drinks. If he wasn’t so frustrated at how lost he was, he probably would have found the view captivating. They were getting closer to the heart of the forest, he was sure of that, and the thought both excited, and horrified him. If he had found such troubles on the outskirts? What awaited him further in? He wasn’t sure. “Guess there’s only one way to find out, huh buddy?” He asked Haskell, who just looked up at him with mismatched eyes. Another drink of the flask, and Freddy kept moving. 

They weave their way through the forest at a sluggish pace, both due to his beleaguered limbs, but also because they were now surrounded by massive roots, overhanging vines, and all manner of obstacles that only the deepest parts of the forest could host. Rocks now rested in their path, giving way to massive boulders which the two had to climb. As they made it to a particularly large boulder, Freddy looked forward. Only a dense forest, and even denser brush greeted him. He shrugged, accepting this, and sat down to slide down the boulder. 

Right as he was about to let gravity take him, Freddy paused. Something was moving around in the brush. He squinted to try and see what it was, but he couldn’t make anything out through the moss, and kudzu. He waited, wary, as there was no way of knowing it wasn’t another spider waiting to entrap him. Haskell was just as curious, but the fox was much braver than Freddy. He hoped down the large boulder to another further down, sniffing, and then crept closer, and closer. Ears perked, like he’s found a mouse, Freddy watched Haskell rear back, and then leap into the air. 

He was airborne for a second, and then dove into the kudzu out of sight. Squeals tore through the oppressive silence of the forest, and suddenly a small piglet tore from the underbrush with Haskell hot on his little feet. “Haskell!” Freddy scolded, but the two were tearing into the distance. “Shit, shit,” Freddy cursed, body sliding down the boulder, and shimmying across another to try and catch up to the two animals. 

Haskell chased the piglet beneath the vines, under roots, around trees, and over rocks. The flash of red fur was the only indication that Freddy was even chasing them in the right direction. “Haskell! Haskell stop!” He called, knowing damn well that if there was a piglet? There was a very angry mother boar around, and no one wanted that. He had dealt with wild hogs before, and he really didn’t want to deal with one in this forest. 

He chased them up a steep incline, a path having been hewn from the earth by migrating deer through the millennium. That didn’t give Freddy anymore confidence though. Wild boars, and wild stags? Perfect. Just perfect. Still, he had to get the only companion he had in this strange place. He couldn’t let Haskell find himself on the receiving end of angry tusks, or stomping hooves. 

The moss beneath his feet was slippery, causing Freddy to stumble, and as he climbed higher, and higher, he could hear water. They must be near a lake. The gentle babbling of the tributaries carving through the forest would have been heaven, but bodies of water were exactly where they didn’t want to be. Animals hang around bodies of water, and Freddy had had enough of animals in the forest. The squealing only continued, getting further, and further away, and Freddy had to dig deep to push his body forward. 

He ascended the incline, and found himself in a basin nature had cared over the years. A lake had settled here, the water crystal clear, and in the center sat a single island with the largest willow tree Freddy had ever seen. He stood for a moment, transfixed, as he had found himself at the very heart of this place. The trees gave way, only growing around the perimeter, leaving the perpetual twilight to shine down on the lake. It was beautiful, breathtaking really. If this is where Gods trod, then it was wholly befitting of them. In fact, so eerie was the sacred air of this place that Freddy felt almost dirty having found it. He wasn’t worthy to step foot in such a sacred place. 

The squealing snapped him out of his thoughts, and Freddy looked to find Haskell chasing the little piglet around a boulder down the way. He cursed under his breath, gave a glance around to see if he could see the mother, but when he saw nothing decided it was now or never. He descended into the basin, skirting around the lake, and made his way towards Haskell. With a little timing, he managed to snatch the wriggling piglet into his hands. It squealed bloody murder, wriggling even harder, and bit down on Freddy’s hands in its desperation to get free. 

“Ow! Hey! Easy, easy! Haskell! Haskell stop!!” The Fox was jumping up at his legs, nipping at those kicking hooves, and Freddy had to hold the piglet higher on his chest to keep it away from those sharp teeth. “Haskell! Haskell stop. We have to go buddy. We have to get out of here, okay? We aren’t welcome here, and you’re making it really hard to stay quiet! Ow! Haskell! Stop!” 

The squealing piglet screamed in his ears, kicking little legs against his stomach, and digging into his chest to try and ind purchase to climb higher. Freddy had to clamp his hands more firmly  around its tiny body, which only made it scream louder. “Haskell! Stop. Buddy, come on, we have to go.” He kept repeating, but Haskell didn’t seem to care. 

It wasn’t until something large broke in the distance that Haskell stopped, and turned his head. Freddy went rigid, eyes blowing wide as he scanned the forest line. Nothing moved. Everything seemed to go eerily silent, only the squealing of the piglet, and the hammering of his heart punctuating the air. Freddy kept scanning the forest, trying to see something, anything, but the clouds had descended overhead. The dense forest now felt almost oppressive. Nothing moved. Nothing punctured the silence. 

“Haskell,” Freddy whispered, slowly trying to move the piglet to let it go. He wanted to grab the fox, but the two of them were staring at the exact same spot where the noise had originated. Freddy bent at his waist, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the forest line. He was about to let the piglet go, when the most horrifying sound tore through the silence. It was a mixture between a squeal, and a roar. 

Something massive tore through the tree line at an inhuman pace. It’s hooves broke rocks beneath it to rubble, and Freddy only had a second to catch a glimpse of it before everything suddenly went upside down. He knew it threw him as he flew through the air, tumbling ass over tea kettle, and when he hit the ground he felt his ribs break against the impact of the rock beneath him. Freddy coughed up blood, and tried to right himself, but again he found himself thrown as whatever assaulted him roared in sheer rage above him. He felt the weightlessness of a free fall, and crashed once more to the ground with a disgusting thump. Frantic feet scrambled beneath him as he found purchase, and pushed himself in the opposite direction of the stampeding hooves. His vision was blurry, everything spinning as he tripped, and fell against a tree. 

Muscle memory turned him around, back pressed flush to the bark, but before he could do anything a massive impact drove all the air from his lungs. He heard the squelch of flesh being torn asunder before he felt the pain, and his already swimming vision tried to focus, but all he could see was the massive snout pushed against his stomach. Blood trickled down ivory tusks, and dripped with a soft pitter onto the forest floor. Freddy knew without a shadow of a doubt that this boar had gored him, and pinned him against the tree. He felt warm blood trickle down his thigh, and coughed up more on the bleach white fur of the monster before him.

“Disgusting little creature,” a voice snarled at him. Freddy felt his head roll, a vain attempt to throw it back so he could look at what had actually attacked him. Kudzu flowed down its head, and back like a shaggy mane. The green was a stark contrast to the bone white fur it sported, and seven red eyes stared at him with a hatred so profound it was visceral. Three eyes rested on each side of its large snout, with the seventh in the middle, and each one was narrowed accusingly at him as the boar drove its tusks further into the soft flesh of Freddy’s midsection. “How dare you come here, to this sacred place. You disturb my slumber, assault my children, and cause such an ungodly ruckus. What arrogance. What pride. I will enjoy every moment of your struggle to cling to life.”  

Freddy coughed up more blood, the droplets landing on the great beasts face as it seemed to chuckle with condescending vitriol. A river of red leaked down the corner of his mouth, stained his blond beard crimson as Freddy groaned in pain. “Great one,” He managed, the sound gargled, and slick with blood on his tongue. “Please...forgive me. I didn’t mean -” His hand came out to try to touch the great boar’s snout, but the beast shook its massive head from side to side, tearing more of Freddy’s already sundered flesh further. 

“How dare you attempt to touch me. You tiny, fragile, minuscule thing. You are not even worth the energy it would take to crush you beneath my feet.” The massive boar pressed Freddy further into the tree, driving more of its tusks into his skin. Freddy felt the smaller ones on its lower jaw pierce his thigh. The muscle, and sinew giving way like wet paper to a child’s cruel hands. “You, and your kind are always coming into the forest like it is your playground. You hunt my children, and hang their heads on trees to rot. What did you think you could accomplish by coming here? Did you think to beg the Great Guardian for protection? Did you think he would listen to you, when my cries have gone unanswered? Hmm? Answer me!” 

The boar moved its head slowly, pulling its tusks sideways as more blood trailed down Freddy’s legs, and pooled beneath his feet. Freddy groaned in pain, his already beleaguered body fading with every passing second. “Please,” He manages through a wet cough, the blood pooling in the back of his. Freddy, unable to speak, takes a moment to just look at the creature before him. 

Though the kudzu wrapped around it like a cloak, there were holes in its side that sprouted fungus. The fruiting bodies wrapped all the way up its side, the mixture of their flat topped shelf heads amid round bulbous ones that reached to the heavens jarring to behold. Puncture wounds, or maybe bullet holes bled freely all along it’s back, and sides. Rivers of bright red blood flowed from the wounds until they congealed into rust colored scabs along its belly. Burn wounds covered the underbelly of the beast, leaving it reeking of burnt fur, and flesh. Whatever had assaulted this great beast did so with such hatred, and malice, it was not surprising it too felt those emotions strongly.  Maggots writhed on the edges of the great holes in its side, their pale yellow bodies undulating in a grotesque dance as they devoured the flesh. Some crawled further up the great boar, tumbling down its head to wriggle on the snout in such a raw act of decay it actually made  Freddy gag. 

“Great One, please...you’re injured…” He managed, pushing more of the blood out of his mouth with his tongue to try, and clear his airway. “I am at your mercy. Please, let me see to your side...you are -- ahhh!”

The boar reared back, pulling its tusks free for a moment, only to drive them back into his skin with a squelching thud. Blood was forced up through his lungs, coughing up a crimson puddle onto the boar’s snout as Freddy struggled to breath. “It was disgusting little hands like yours that did this to me. You come into my forest, cut down my trees, tear up the very earth for your pleasure, and try to kill *me* for being angry? You come into my forest, and try to run me out?! You haven’t even begun to suffer. I will see to it that you breathe your last breaths in utter agony, as so many of my children have.” 

Freddy felt his head lull forward, rivers of blood oozing from his lips to pool on the great pig's snout. His neck had lost all ability to keep his head upright, and for a moment, Freddy considered letting go. He had given so much to this forest. He had held true to his yearning to go home, and see those who missed him, but there had to be a time when his strength would finally leave him. The Forest had already claimed what it wanted, and though it returned life to his body there on the ground...he knew it wouldn’t do it again. Though he knew he couldn’t do anything to quell the rage in the god before him, Freddy felt he could at least offer something that wasn’t pain, or hatred. 

“I’m so sorry others before me have wounded you so.” Freddy whispered, the last of his energy pulling his hand up to press his palm into the pool of his blood between the great boars eyes. “I can help...and I hope you can forgive me…” He closed his eyes, reaching deep into himself to find that spark as his teacher had taught him. All life needs is a chance, and it will flourish. The blood felt warm beneath his palm, the transferal of life energy moving through the conduit, and bathing the bleach fur in a soft green glow. Vines crawled up Freddy’s legs, wrapping tight around his thighs, and snaked their way up his chest, and down to hand to splay out over the great pigs skin. Morning glories sprouted from the vines, their colors vibrant as they drank deep of Freddy’s last remaining energy. 

The kudzu that flowed down the boars back flourished, reaching down to wrap themselves around those oozing wounds, and encase the great beast in a warm, soothing embrace. Flowers sprouted all along its back, the mushrooms overgrown by life, and pushed from the flesh to tumble lifelessly to the ground. The white fur was washed in green life, flourishing down its back as all manner of flowers bloomed to the heavens. The warmth radiated from the massive god, the last vestiges of Freddy’s energy spent. 

However, despite the kindness of the gesture, the boars seven eyes raged with hatred, and its mouth opened to release another ear shattering squeal. Its entire body went rigid, and with all of its might, the great boar threw its head sideways, and tossed Freddy clean off its tusks. 

Freddy landed into the lake with a massive splash, the water stained red as the ripples cascaded across its surface. His weight took him to the bottom, only to buoy him upwards, but Freddy felt too weak to struggle. His back crested the water. His arms, and legs were lifeless beneath him as he stared blankly at the lake bed beneath him. 

He had tried, with all of his might, but in the end he was just too weak to fight any longer. He had given everything he could to return home, but there was nothing left to give. In truth, Freddy regretted his thoughts, and knew that those who waited for him would grow old, and pass without ever knowing the fate that befell him. Part of him hoped that somehow, some way, they would know that he fought tooth, and nail to return to them. That he never stopped loving them, that the memory of them kept him going until his body simply no longer could. Another part hoped that they had all but forgotten him, and turned him into a treasured memory that was only recalled when necessary. He hoped that memory brought nothing but joy, and peace as their lives moved forward. 

He could hear the boar squealing, stomping, rampaging somewhere on the grass. “What have you done to me! You disgusting little whelp! I will crush your bones to dust! I will feel them snap between my teeth!” 

He swore he could hear Haskell crying for him. With whatever he had left, Freddy did his best to find purchase with his feet to try and push himself over to lay helplessly on his back. He splayed out there on the waves, blood staining the water red as he looked up towards the sky. It was beautiful. The way twilight painted the sky in hues of reds, oranges, blues, and purples. A smile touched his lips, as he felt tears roll down his temples to join the water beneath him. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t make it home,” He whispered, the crash of massive feet in water barely registering. “I tried. Please know I tried. Know that I never stopped loving you, and cherished every moment we had together.” 

Freddy again found himself airborne, the bite of tusks against his lower back, but the fall felt blissful. He reached for the sky, his fingers stained red, and he swore he could see Lydia’s face just beyond the touch of his fingers. She was right there, just within his reach, but the unforgiving crash on solid ground broke whatever life he had left in him. Freddy coughed up more blood, felt it pool in his throat to choke the last breaths he had in painful agony. 

The heavy footfalls of the boar slowly approaching through the lake sounded so very far away. He waited for either the bite of teeth to finally rip his flesh from his bones, or for the blood to choke him, but neither came. Instead, silence fell over the glade with jarring speed. His head fell to the side, eyes finally making sense of his surroundings. He was on the island in the center of the lake, half submerged, and broken on the plush green moss. 

New steps registered behind him, and Freddy closed his eyes to accept whatever befell him. Closer, and closer the steps came, their cadence the same as the doe’s and stags he had seen in the forest of his home. He waited for the boar to approach, but there was nothing but the silence in the air punctuated by the steady footfalls. They came to rest right above his head, and with great effort, Freddy looked above him. 

His throat constricted around the blood, a cough sending droplets spewing around his cheeks as he stared up at the most majestic creature he had ever seen. It’s body was that of a great stag, fur a soft brown, but it’s antlers were more akin to a moose than a stag. However it’s face is what held Freddy so transfixed. Feathers like that of a great grey owl framed the sockets in concentric circles, leading to massive green eyes that stared down at him with an empathetic curiosity that was so *human* It was unsettling. A human-like nose sat beneath the eyes, but a sharp curved beak made its mouth. Those blue eyes blinked slowly down at Freddy, head canted slowly, and then it looked up to where the boar likely stood at Freddy’s feet. 

The massive creature took a step forward, body overshadowing Freddy on the ground, and reached its head forward to peer at the flora covered boar in the lake. Freddy didn’t see what happened, but he felt the massive weight of the boar crash into the lake. The waves rolled over his body, washing away the blood that only spilled anew. Taking a step back, those human eyes returned to Freddy’s with an ethereal calm that set his heart both at ease, and constrict in awe. 

“Great one,” Freddy gargled through the blood, his voice weak, and far away. If there ever was one true god of this place, it would be this creature. Freddy heard Haskell chirp, his little legs carrying him through the water until he scampered up his legs to sit on his thigh. Freddy watched as Haskell bent low, as if in a bow, and then turned his mismatched eyes towards the great stag above him. The creature regarded Haskell, leaned down, and touched it’s beak to soft red fur. 

Haskell’s eyes went wide, his body rigid, and then slowly fell against Freddy’s thigh as breath slowly left him. “Haskell,” He whispered, hand reaching to lay bloodstained fingers over his little body. It did not rise, and fall with life. “Haskell!” He tried again, drops of blood landing on the fox’s slumbering face as weak fingers prodded him, but he did not stir. Hot, fresh tears fell from Freddy’s eyes with renewed vigor as he wept for his one, and only companion. He looked up to the great beast above him, to ask why he would take the life from such an innocent creature, but the protest died in his throat. 

The eyes of the stag above him were now blown wide, the fur around its neck, and head raised as it transfixed him in a stare. Freddy felt strangely at peace as everything slowly faded to blackness. 

( @drustvar-dragonfly​ for mentions )