#and then expected me to run into the jungle gratefully after him

[ilgaksu]

i'm finally in enough of a bad mood today to take it out on something by breaking my long-held promise never to write fandom meta on disability again so HEY LET'S GO.

so, go read this post first (spoilers for fullmetal alchemist, but the thesis of the post is that respect for bodily autonomy is a sign of love, even when in most modern media it's disregarded as a sign of it, especially in medical contexts. it's so eloquently and beautifully put that it's a great jumping off point.)

okay, so: did anybody else get given this kind of dilemma in early critical thinking studies at school? the example we got given is this: your wife is dying and needs a medical treatment to save her life, but the medical treatment directly contravenes her lifelong religious or spiritual beliefs. should you do it?

honestly, i think a lot about how the husband in those articles and examples is framed as some kind of unspeakable monster if he upholds her beliefs and lets her life be lived in continuous honour of those beliefs, knowing she will die in alignment with them but that she will die. he's always a monster if he does that, or backwards, or unscientific, or uncaring - as opposed to, depending on how you frame it, and you can frame it so many ways, the one person in that room truly on his wife's side, and having to make the worst decision anyone can make. and how the only compassionate thing is to have no judgement and instead pray like hell that you're never personally standing there by someone's hospital bed having to make the kind of decision like that, with a time limit on life and death, and having to war with your own wants over the explicit known desires of the person you love.

and the medical staff are trained to save someone's life at all costs. that is their remit. but what about yours?

what if it's life and death, but they're conscious? what if the person is entirely cognisant, and conscious, and able to make their own medical decisions, and is, despite their medical situation, currently able to physically live alone without support? what if they aren't, but medical autonomy and human dignity is based not on the necessities of physical support, but in the inviolable right to self-determine your own medical decisions for as long as you can? and how often are those necessities perceived as demands? what if we show, often, more respect for the dead and their burial wishes than for their final medical wishes when alive? what if we have to acknowledge that us doing that is out of love and fear and more love? that we're the person standing at that hospital bed, and we prayed like hell but it happened to us and to someone we love anyway, and now we're having to choose but what we actually want is more time and we'd do anything on our end to ensure it?

why is it easier, in that moment, to empathise with the person standing at the end of the hospital bed, and not the person in it? is it because we're far more likely, statistically, to be the former and be able to communicate our feelings on it after the event, compared to the person in it, who may pass away? is it because we're a society so afraid of death that we're afraid to meaningfully debate on what it means to die on our own terms?

what if the person shuts you down and refuses to engage on the topic, beyond being very clear about what they want? what if it's no longer up for discussion, but you have, you believe, options left that they aren't seeing or agreeing to? what if you know they won't consent to it if you ask honestly and ahead of time? do you then have the right to show up and demand it of them? do you have the right of intervention, if you know it's a decision they've already made, because you feel the decision is wrong? do you have the right to tell other people their private medical information without their consent to gain that help? do you have a right to any of it? do you have the right to override someone's autonomy like that?

what if you are their partner? what choice is you showing up for them, and what choice is you just bargaining for more time, at any cost? even if it feels like they aren't even showing up for themselves anymore?

anyway heihua movie is solely about a tentacle monster in a cave, nothing else to see here

[slippinmickeys]

Head Canon AU Mulder and Scully as Archeologist and Scientist at a dig in ruins in the Amazon.

Anon! Thank you so much. I saw this this morning and got that rare inspiration wherein I launched myself at this, and kind of love what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it! (It is unbeta-ed)

1. The University was being cheap. That was the first thing. Piggybacking off the hard work he’d put in: years worth of toil to arrange this meticulously set-up dig. If they wanted to send a team to study advanced medical uses of the vast biome of the Amazon rainforest, they’d do far better sending this approaching medical team into the interior. His team -- his dig -- was practically on the outskirts. The forest around them had already been explored and researched, catalogued and referenced. The real biological finds -- the cures for Alzheimer’s, cancer -- would be found in the unknown, in those places even the aboriginal people hadn’t stepped. The University was being cheap, plunking in a science team on a completely separate mission with his own, just to save some cash. That was the bottom line.

If it hadn’t been so oppressively hot so early in the morning, he might not have been quite so irritated. As it was, he stood on the bank of the river and ran an already sweat-soaked handkerchief over the back of his neck, willing the putting little outboard Evinrude to chug a little more quickly upstream. It was hot and stiflingly humid, and he’d wanted to be at the dig two hours ago, before the heat of the day set in. Too late, that.

The incoming medical team -- if you could call it a team -- seemed to consist of only one person. A short-statured wisp of a woman (if the high, top-knotted messy red bun was any indication of sex) who sat low in the backseat of the approaching riverboat, surrounded by expensive-looking boxes filled with technology that probably wouldn’t operate well in the humidity. He blew an irritated raspberry and shuffled his feet in the muddy squelch of the riverbank.

The stout block of the driver hefted a rope at Mulder as they approached, which Mulder caught easily and wrapped around a nearby tree.

“Tudo vai bem?” Mulder inquired as the man cut the engine and grunted an affirmative.

The passenger stood, keeping a hand on the side of the little tin vessel, its stern fishtailing out into the current. Mulder stepped up and held out a hand, which she grasped gratefully. He pulled and she took a confident leap, landing lightly on the ground next to him.

“Dr. Mulder, I presume?” she said on a light breath, looking up at him with a small smile, having to crane her neck to do so. She had astonishingly blue eyes, a color he’d only seen once, in an ice-cave in the far north. He shook his head after a moment and realized that he was still holding her hand. He dropped it, nodding.

“I thank God, doctor, I have been permitted to see you,” she finished, quoting the journals of Henry Morton Stanley.

Mulder outright laughed. He was smitten immediately.

2. “Be careful with that!” she’d barked, as Langly handed out her equipment to a couple of waiting locals that had been working on the project for three years.

Mulder held up a calming hand.

“You’re working with archeologists, Dr. Scully,” he said softly, “my team has the gentlest hands in the Southern Hemisphere.”

She quirked one side of a grin at him even as she threw a worried look over her shoulder at her equipment.

“Come on,” he said, giving her sleeve a gentle tug, “let me show you around.”

He showed her the latrine first, watching her face carefully for a reaction, but she just nodded nonchalantly and kept walking. Then the mess, and the tent where she’d be working when she wasn’t in the field.

“And this,” he said, taking her to an empty patch of jungle, “is where your bunk will be. My apologies that it’s not set up. There’s no female barracks and we were told you wouldn’t be here until next week. The radio communique we got this morning informing us of your arrival came as something of a surprise.”

“I’m eager to get started,” was all she said in response.

Mulder walked on and she followed him.

“I’m afraid the only empty cot is in my tent,” he said sheepishly. “Dr. Byers headed home for a funeral last month and we’re not expecting him back until March. I’ll be sure yours is set up right away, but takes some time as we have to build a platform first. Have you done jungle field work before?”

“I flew here from Borneo,” she said. “It’s not a problem.” With that, she flipped back the tent’s outer curtain and ducked inside like she owned the place.

She never did move out.

3. Scully’s father had been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and hadn’t lived long enough to see her graduate from medical school. She would not let it happen to anyone else if she could help it, she’d said. She worked like a woman possessed.

Against all advice, she would march into the jungle alone and be gone for days at a time. When her grad students finally arrived, they couldn’t keep up with her, and she’d frequently leave them at base camp to work on the equipment (which, Mulder was not really that pleased to report, did have a tendency to malfunction in the miasmic humidity and heat of the Amazon basin. It wasn’t, he admitted, that easy always being right). Occasionally she could be talked into taking one of the local hires with her, but she felt bad taking workers that Mulder’s project funding paid for, and anyway, they weren’t trained in her science, she would tell him.

“I wish you wouldn’t go out on your own,” he murmured into the cup of her ear one night, a trickle of sweat running from her hairline and onto the tip of his nose.

She turned on the cot, a feat, considering its fairly narrow dimensions, and pressed her forehead against his, the flimsy pillow damp beneath them both.

“I’m careful,” she whispered, and threw a leg over him, her dewy mons pressing into the naked flesh of his thigh.

“It’s not safe-” he began to protest, but she’d captured his lips with her own and he fell headlong into the lush heat of her -- whatever concern that had been on the tip of his tongue lost to her rapacious mouth as it trailed a slick path down his torso and latched, vitae and greedy, around the rigid length of him. It was bliss. She was bliss. If he had ever thought he knew love, he was wrong.

4. The whole camp knew they were together. Her tent had become a kind of catchall storage area, and it’s not like nylon canvas could contain the breathy moans of their pleasure. That and she’d just plunk down and sit on his lap whenever the only camp chair available around the mess tent was the one with the tricky leg.

Anyway, what happened in the field stayed in the field, unless it was up for peer review.

“Are you guys going to get married or something?” Mulder’s newest grad student asked one night when the air had actually cooled enough to take the edge off of everybody’s temper. Beer had arrived with their latest resupply and Frohike had syphoned off some LN2 to cool it and it was frosty and rich and maybe the best thing Mulder had ever tasted aside from Scully’s skin.

Scully, from atop his lap, merely shrugged and took a leisurely sip of brew. Mulder pictured it sliding down her throat, the cold blooming into her belly and he dry swallowed, then leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

“God, don’t be such a newb,” drawled Langly, pressing his glasses into his face compulsively.

Mulder knew what Langly meant. They’d all seen their share of field romances that fizzled the second your boots stepped back onto University soil, though something about Scully felt different; the way their minds worked together, the way she felt in his arms.

“I’m married to the job, bro,” Scully said, but reached back and squeezed the skin just above Mulder’s hip. He kissed her shoulder again.

“D’you tell her about the helo data?” Frohike asked, looking at Mulder from his own camp chair. The little man sat low and back in it with his shoulders hunched up, and Mulder thought he looked a bit like a toad, or an ogre guarding a burial mound.

They’d gotten the funding from a billionaire alumni to fly a helicopter over the whole of the basin in this sector of the Amazon, using light detection radar. Basically, it shot out billions of lasers as it flew overhead that were able to penetrate the rainforest’s canopy and map the landscape below.

“You had a chance to analyze it?” Scully asked, craning her head to look at him squarely.

He nodded, smiling. He’d been saving this to tell her especially.

“And you were able to combine it with the satellite data?” she asked, excited.

He nodded again. “Sóis,” he said, smiling. The settlements they’d found took their name from the Portuguese word for ‘suns.’ They were round villages, all with remarkably similar layouts, with elongated mounds circling a central plaza. When seen from above, they looked like the rays of the sun. “Pre-Columbian.”

She jumped off his lap, spilling half her beer in the process. It dripped down the bare skin of her knee, unnoticed.

“Are you kidding?!” her excitement made him giddy.

“It gets better,” he said, and she cocked her head, waiting for him to elaborate. “They’re laid out like the cosmos,” he said, giving her a full-watt smile as he rose out of the chair to stand in front of her. “We’re already plotted three different villages, all laid out in the exact design of southern constellations.” Her mouth dropped open. “Canis Major, Hydra, and Crux Australis.”

She launched herself into his arms, practically squealing -- something he’d never heard her do -- and he held her, looking around at the smiling faces of the other scientists in the mess. The find would make his career, and her excitement for him touched him profoundly.

5. Martim, one of their local hires, came careening into camp, breathing so hard he had to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His face was a mask of anxiety and fear. Mulder felt dread bloom in his gut, and he dropped what he was doing -- actually dropped the computer tablet he was holding to the wet forest floor -- and ran over to the man, grasping him firmly by the shoulder.

“Martim?” he said, “O que aconteceu?”

“Dr. Scully,” the man heaved, his accent thick. He could still scarcely breathe.

“Where is she?” Mulder didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to translate from English. “What happened?”

“Hurt,” the man wheezed, “she’s hurt.”

It took nearly thirty minutes to assemble a rescue party, and they had to let Martim rest for a bit and give him food and water before he could take them back out into the jungle where he’d left Scully. Mulder was beside himself by the time they finally started off, impatient as a recalcitrant child, sick to his stomach with worry.

It took three hours to hack into the area where she’d been doing her search, and a further twenty minutes of calling her name before they heard her weak call back.

Mulder raced ahead without thought to obstacle or danger, and skidded to a halt when he was practically on top of her. She was leaning back against the base of a large tree, holding onto her right ankle, which she had elevated on her left knee. There was a length of rope beside her and a climbing harness around her butt and waist.

“Scully,” he panted, falling to his knees beside her.

She smiled at him weakly, her face pale and sweaty.

“I think it’s broken,” she hissed, pointing at her ankle.

“What happened?” Mulder asked, as the rest of the rescue party trundled in behind him, pulling off backpacks and other equipment. Someone handed Scully a bottle of water.

“I saw a fungus I’d never seen before growing on the bark midway up this tree,” she said after guzzling half a bottle of Arrowhead. “The carabiner failed on my descent.”

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder said, reaching out to tuck a damp lock of titian hair behind her ear.

“I got the sample, though,” she said with a tired, but victorious glint in her eye.

They weren’t back into camp until well after nightfall.

Mulder picked her up from the field stretcher and carried her into their tent, depositing her gently onto her cot. Langly came in behind him and handed him two fresh cold packs before ducking back out without a word. Mulder popped them to activate the chemicals and pressed them gingerly on either side of Scully’s ankle.

“I’m going to call for a medical evac,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, grabbing at his hand and squeezing it. “Mulder, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Scully, we’ve got to follow protocol here,” he said, trying not to sound put out.

“Do not take me out of the field, Mulder. Promise me.”

“Scully-”

“Promise me!”

“How will you even work?” he said a little desperately.

“It doesn’t need setting or surgery,” she said, gesturing to her injured limb.

“How do you know that without an X-ray?”

“I’m a medical doctor,” she said, by way of explanation, “I can secure it with supplies we have on hand. I can work from my cot for a few days and make crutches out of tree limbs. Please, Mulder,” she said, and he could feel himself relenting, even if it would get him in trouble. “Please.”

He sighed, and she smiled up at him weakly, though he didn’t say a thing.

“Thank you,” and closed her eyes, relaxing into her pillow, “thank you.”

Six weeks later the canvas of their tent ripped back and the greenish glow of leaf-filtered sunlight shone into the murky, damp depths. Mulder rose from where he was resting on his cot and looked to the entrance. Scully stood there, armpit resting on her improvised crutch, her hair a rich autumn frizz around her head. Her eyes were wide and shining, and there was something incandescent about her in that moment -- an energy pulsing from her that lit his soul from within.

“Scully-” he started, but she held up a hand to silence him. Her hands were shaking.

“I found it,” she said, her voice breathy with the triumph of discovery, “Mulder, I found it.”

[love-and-monsters]

Harpy Rescue

M monster X F reader, 7,143 words

You wash up on an island after a shipwreck. The harpy natives take you in and you find companionship with a certain healer who’s been caring for you. 

I stared blankly at the sky above me. I was lying back on a beach. The tide was coming in underneath me. The salt water stung at the raw scrapes on my back.

It was struggle to breathe. My lungs spasmed and heaved with every breath. All my energy went into keeping my lungs heaving.

It was ironic. The only person who survived the shipwreck was the one who would die anyway.

None of my limbs would move. I knew I wasn’t paralyzed, if only because that would have dulled sensation and I could feel every scrape and bruise over the surface of my body. I just couldn’t move under my own power.

 It took all my energy to keep breathing. It hurt just to breathe. My lungs stuttered over the air, threatening to stop altogether every time. Even with all my effort going into it, I still felt faintly dizzy from lack of air.

There were birds, enormous birds, circling overhead. Carrion birds, probably. They could see me lying on the beach and probably assumed they were getting a nice lunch.

The water was getting higher. It was a race, I thought morbidly. Would the water drown me before the birds managed to eat my entrails?

They were coming down more rapidly now. They were huge. Perhaps I would get lucky and they would fight one another for long enough that the waves would come in. I would take drowning over being torn apart hungry birds.

The tide was coming in faster. I could feel it lapping around my ears. A particularly strong wave made me sputter and I spent nearly a minute coughing and gasping. It was harder than ever to breathe. Perhaps drowning wouldn’t be substantially more pleasant than being eaten alive.

One of the birds plunged into a dive, spurring the others to follow. They drifted out of my sight and no matter how far I rolled my eyes back, I couldn’t see them. Great. I just had to wait in anticipation.

There was a crunching behind me, the sound of something approaching. Another wave struck me and I choked, coughing on the water. Black spots popped in front of my eyes and I felt my entire body heave, water trickling from my mouth.

A hand caught my shoulder. With a heave, I was dragged out of the shallow water and up onto the firmer beach. Tilting my head back, I managed to catch sight of my rescuers.

They hadn’t been birds, I realized. They had just looked like birds from a distance. My rescuers were a group of concerned-looking harpies.

If I had any sense of dramatic timing, I likely would have passed out then. It would have made the situation much less awkward, at least. But I remained stubbornly awake, staring up at the small throng of harpies.

Their heads and torsos were humanoid, but they seemed to have a combination between arms and wings. Their arms were feathered and there was a split at the wrists between hands and the final joint of the wing. Their legs were scaled and ended in large, heavy talons. All of them had deeply tanned skin and dark brown hair and feathers.

They spoke to one another for a moment, in a language I couldn’t understand. Then, the one that had dragged me up the beach bent over and hauled me into his arms.

The group headed off the beach and into the tropical jungle beyond. It was getting harder and harder to remain conscious. I faded in and out, struggling to keep my consciousness together. The blackouts grew longer and longer and the tightening pain in my chest was growing sharper. Breathing was almost painfully difficult.

Another bit of irony for me. I had been saved from drowning only for my condition to kill me right away.

The last thing I was aware of was the man carrying me speaking rapidly before I was deposited on solid ground with a jolt.

When I opened my eyes again, there was a ceiling above me. It was thatched, and there were several bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters. The pain of my body had eased, and though my chest burned, it had loosened significantly. After a few breaths, I had gained enough energy to sit up.

“Here.” Someone to my right pushed a bowl into my hands. It was full of a strong-smelling liquid that made my nose run and my sinuses clear almost instantly. “It’ll help with your breathing.”

The person next to me was the same man who had carried me off the beach. I hadn’t gotten the best look at him, but he had the same golden-brown feathers and his long, braided hair was done up in the same style. I dipped my head and took a few swallows from the bowl.

It burned worse than any whiskey I’d ever tried. I sputtered, eyes watering, but the tension in my chest did fade. The bands that had always restricted my breathing loosened ever so slightly and I gulped air gratefully.

The man outstretched his hands and took the bowl back. I sputtered a few more times before my breathing calmed. “What is that?”

“An old remedy for chest trouble. It’s steeped out of different herbs.” As he set the bowl on a nearby table, I realized something.

“You speak English?” I asked.

“Some. My aunt met with travelers many years ago. She taught me. Just in case.” He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Something behind him shifted and I noticed his tail, made of the same brown feathers as his wings. “You must have inhaled a lot of salt water. Your breathing was bad.” He tapped his chest demonstratively. “You were wheezing.”

“It does that anyway. But the almost drowning didn’t help.” I pushed yourself up in bed. “Where am I?”

“Healer’s house,” he said. “In Namori Village. You were brought here by the storm, yes?”

“Not on purpose,” I said. “I was sailing to Larmark. They have a good hospital there. I was going for an examination.” I rubbed at my chest. “I don’t suppose you have any ships heading in that direction?”

“We are not a sailing people,” the man said with an apologetic smile. I slouched back into the bed. I wasn’t as upset about it as I should have been. The treatment was supposed to find a way to cure my condition. Without it, I could be beset by a sudden bought of chest tightness that could kill me at any moment. It had nearly done so several times in my childhood. But I had lived my life with it so far. I was just back where I’d started.

“She’s up!” I looked up to see an older woman harpy leaning over me. “Thought I told you to call for me, boy.” The male harpy ducked his head, looking properly ashamed. “Took quite a beating from that storm. Lucky you made it to shore.” She flicked her wings. “We saw the ship go down last night. Didn’t expect anyone would survive. You’re lucky we noticed you.”

“There’s something wrong with her chest,” the male harpy said. “She wheezes.”

“Noticed that.” The woman looked me over. Her eyes were a piercing yellow. “Thought it was from the seawater. It’s usually like that?”

“Yes. Since I was a child. I had some sort of illness that damaged it. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I’ve never allowed it to bother me.” I’m sure my voice would have been much more reassuring, but my chest contracted in a cough and I heaved a few times.

“Perhaps you should let it bother you more. Give her more of that infusion, Nor. And recheck her ribs, just to be safe.”

“Yes, Aunt Aerath,” Nor said. She turned on her heels and strode off. We were in a back room, I noticed, small and full of warm light. Nor turned back to me. “Sit up. Drink.” I sipped more of the brew he’d given me while he prodded at my ribs. It was a little ticklish and I had to work not to squirm.

“Your ribs are fine,” Nor said eventually. “But your chest is weak.”

“Well, nothing I didn’t already know.” I rolled over, ignoring the sharp pains that came to me. “Can I move around?”

Nor nodded and I got up. He hovered close by as I shuffled around. I’d been stripped down to my shift, which would have been embarrassing if both of them hadn’t been wearing something similar. They both seemed to be wearing something like togas, though Nor’s skirt was long enough to trail on the ground. Both their outfits were a deep navy blue.

There was a partially ajar door and I stepped through it, onto the forest floor outside. The trees were enormous, towering over everything. Up in the branches, harpies darted back and forth, flitting between the branches. I could see nest-like houses nestled in the crooks of the trees.

“We’re on the ground,” I said. Nor nodded.

“Healers live on the ground. In case flightless ones come to us,” he explained.

 “Ah. That’s sensible.” I stared up, looking into the trees with some interest. At least if I was going to be staying there for a while, it was a beautiful, fascinating place.

Nor took me back inside and fed me a chunk of meat along with a few fruits. I needed to heat the meat over the fire for a little longer- apparently harpies liked their meat fairly rare. Aerath returned after that and forced a few more herbal brews down my throat, which she said would help with the pain.

“I expect I’ll be here for a while,” I said as I handed one of her cups back to her. My mouth tasted like I’d licked the underside of a stone. The brews were unpleasant at best, though I could already feel a numbness creeping into my injuries.

“Humans come by only rarely,” Aerath said. “And there isn’t much of a pattern. Our species is not water faring and we can’t fly to the next mainland. Ocean flight is not easy.”

“Which is a taciturn way of saying I am stuck here.”

“No more than us,” Nor said.

“Be kind. She has lost her home,” Aerath said sternly. I shrugged, leaning back in bed.

“It’s not as awful as you may think. I was sailing to a hospital, you see. It was likely I would spend the rest of my life there, which, even with all that care, may not have been very long.” I shrugged. “At least this place is better for the soul.”

Nor turned his head and spoke to his aunt rapidly in his own language. She frowned, but responded in the same way. I ignored the pair of them and moved back to bed. Despite not having been awake for very long, I was already exhausted. My chest stuttered as I tried to lie flat on my back and I paused for a moment, wheezing.

Nor darted over and adjusted my pillow behind me. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Nor nodded, then slipped out of the room. Aerath lingered for a moment, looking at me.

“We’ll be upstairs if you require us. If you can’t walk, knock heavy things over until we come for you.” With that, she exited the room. The door closed behind her and I slumped back into the pillow, eyes closing.

I slept fitfully, especially after the pain medication wore off. By the time Nor brought breakfast, I was already up and walking around. There were several journals with detailed drawings of plants in them. I couldn’t read the writing, but I could see what the plants were and I spent some time matching them to the herbs hanging around the room.

“Quite an interesting journal,” I told Nor as he sat down to eat with me. “Did your aunt write it?”

He shook his head. “She is…” He struggled with the word for a moment. “Practical? A… practice? She remembers by senses, not words. But I need reminders.”

“You’re quite good at drawing,” I said. “I kept similar journals, though they sank with the ship.” He looked at me with clear surprise. “I had little else to do. I could rarely go out, so I spent much time in the gardens, drawing and remarking upon the plants. These remind me of my own journals.”

“When I am collecting herbs, I enjoy drawing them. Seeing nature. It is soothing.” He seemed to grow more excited, then composed himself. “I could show you garden, if you’d like?”

“I would,” I said. He grinned, then hopped to his taloned feet as his aunt entered the room.

I did not end up seeing the garden that day, principally because I spent much of it in bed. Nor stopped by every now and then, sometimes with food, more often with a new bundle of plants to tie up and hang from the ceiling. He seemed to go into a sort of trance when he was sorting the herbs, a sort of peaceful state.

It took a few days before I was approved to walk into town. “Don’t stress yourself too much. You’re still recovering,” Aerath said.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Nor said. He fluttered his wings at his aunt, shooing her away. “We’ll be fine.”

Being without wings earned me a great deal of stares. I was viewed with some general suspicion, as far as I could tell. I was allowed to stay because there seemed to be a consensus that throwing me into the wilderness would absolutely kill me, and they had decided not to be that cruel. Not wanting me to die, however, did not necessarily mean that I was accepted by the community. Having Nor with me seemed to help, at least somewhat. He was at least well respected, and being in his presence absorbed you into his aura of decency.

The village seemed to have been built into the enormous trees of the forest. Several houses had been formed out of several trees carefully grown together through cultivation, and the living pavilion, formed out of ten trees carefully coaxed into growing around each other, was the great centerpiece of the town.

Getting to see the town as a group also drew your eye to the cultural similarities between them. A majority of adults had short hair, while children seemed to exclusively have long hair. There didn’t seem to be a clear age delineation between them. Based on appearances, Nor was older than a few of those with short hair, though no one under a certain age had their hair cut.

“Is there a reason for the hair styling?” I asked. “You wear your hair long, but most adults seem to keep theirs short.”

“Oh,” Nor said, with a tiny, dismissive flick of his feathers. “They are… erm. I am not certain of the word. Paired?”

“Married,” I guessed, and Nor’s expression brightened.

“Yes. Married. Part of the ceremony includes cutting hair. Most couples keep their hair short, to show they are with someone. Long hair can be difficult to fly with. To keep your hair short means you have someone who makes it easy to fly.” He frowned for a moment. “It is a pun in my language. It does not work as well in yours.”

“I think I get it,” I said. “But your aunt is unmarried and her hair is short.”

“She is…” There was a long pause. Nor seemed to be struggling to think of the proper words. “Bound to work? Committed to healing? Something along those lines, I believe. She is joined to her job as one is bound to a lover.”

I frowned. “Healers are like nuns, then?”

Nor frowned too. “Like… nones? Healers are not nothing.”

“No, like nuns. It’s spelled differently.” Nor looked entirely blank. I suspected he couldn’t write English. “Nuns are people who take vows not to marry so they can become closer to God, as I understand it. Healers do something similar.”

Nor still seemed confused. “Not all healers. Only Aunt Aerath.” He reached up and touched the long braid that was coiled on the back of his head. “I have… not decided.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” We were quite close to the healing house again, but I paused and leaned against a tree. My chest was squeezing again and I needed a break. “I never planned on marrying, really.”

“Why not?” Nor asked.

“I didn’t expect to live terribly long,” I said frankly. “I have spent much of my life expecting to die from a sudden attack. And then my parents suggested that I go to a hospital for treatment, and it’s rare to marry once you end up in those sort of places.” I smoothed my new robes idly. “I never expected to have a husband  who would be okay with his wife dropping dead at any moment.”

Nor fluttered his wings. “You are not going to die,” he said. 

“It’s all right. I’m content with it. I have been this way all my life. I value every moment now. It’s nothing new to me.” Nor still looked discomfited, so I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Truly, I’m fine. We should head back now.”

Nor plied me with the strange, spicy concoction for my chest when we returned home. I drank the lot of it, at his insistence. It did seem to help. There was something about the warmth of it that relaxed my lungs and brought air in easier.

As my recovery finalized, I began to look for ways to serve my new community. It was not something terribly easy. I could not fly, or truly do any sort of intense physical activity, which limited my options. Sewing and weaving, actions that had often been suggested to me, held no more interest for me in the village than they had in my own home. Trying to manipulate tiny threads that tangled at the slightest glance was infuriating, and my frustration often ended in chest-heaving coughing fits. I tried to go back to writing my journals, examining nature and writing about it, but there seemed to be little actual use for it.

Eventually, I began tagging along with Nor when he went to collect herbs in the forest. He’d been going out more and more often, looking for new plants and writing furiously in his notebooks. I could read them more easily now, having spent a few weeks immersed in a crash course of his language.

“Just make sure you watch out for snakes,” Nor said as we trekked through the thick foliage.

“Look out for what?” I said. I was at the awkward stage of learning a language where I knew most common words, but words that were used infrequently were still lost.

“Snakes? Er. <Snakes!>” Nor said in English.

“Snakes,” I repeated. “Are there a lot of them?” I looked cautiously at the ground.

“No. Not a lot. But there are some venomous ones that bite if you step on them.” Unsettled, I lifted up the hem of my robe, peering cautiously at the leaf litter. The clothes harpies wore were not well-designed for people without tails or wings. I had needed to do some rudimentary tailoring to fix it into something I could walk around in. Shoes had been another problem entirely, mostly because harpies had tough, scaled feet and wore no shoes. I had eventually just decided to layer several thick fabrics together and essentially tied them to my feet. They were neither comfortable nor easy to wear, but they were practical and had stopped your soles from being shredded.

We made our way slowly through the woods. I ended up holding onto Nor’s arm wing for much of it. Never having worked out for long periods of time had left me fairly uncoordinated and leaning on Nor made it much easier for me to move about.

“Look. Norell,” he said, picking up a bunch of sharp-smelling, pink flowered herbs from the ground. “My namesake.”

“What are they used for?” I asked.

“Chest conditions, actually. They’re a big part of the infusion I’ve been giving you.” Nor had been giving me a regular doses of that infusion. Taking some in the morning seemed to loosen my chest for the rest of the day. “I’ve been trying to make a stronger infusion, so we’ll need a lot of it.”

“Are you predicting a spike in chest conditions?” I asked. Winter was on its way, and apparently, due to their large, powerful lungs, harpies were quite susceptible to issues like pneumonia and bronchitis. But that seemed to be counterbalanced by the fact that winter was mild on the island, more of a tepidly cool wet season than a proper snowy winter.

Nor shifted on the ground. His wings twitched a little. It was hard to tell, thanks to his deeply brown skin, but I thought I could see a hint of red creeping into his cheeks. “It’s for you, actually.”

I lifted my brows. “For me?”

“It’s been helping you recently,” Nor said, a little defensively. “I thought that a stronger infusion would help even more.” He frowned critically at the plants. “I want to get it as concentrated as possible. But there’s not enough in the gardens right now, so I need more.” He straightened up, tucking a bundle of plants away into his bag. “Also, infusions will keep a little better than the herbs themselves, so I can keep them for longer. You’ll need some when the growing season ends.”

“You’ll need some for others as well,” I said. “Keep some in reserve.”

“If you need it, you need it,” Nor said. “I’d rather give herbs to someone who definitely needs them than reserve some in case someone else might need them.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to fully heal someone who can be fully healed than to keep giving supplements to someone who will always be sick?” I said. Nor’s feathers bristled, shifting in agitation.

“All people deserve healing. Whether or not their condition is curable. I want you to be well.” His tone was so severe that I could do nothing but stare at him. After a moment, he seemed to realize what he’d said and he broke eye contact, staring at the ground. “We should, ah. Head back.”

He started trekking through the woods rapidly. Harpies were notably better at balance on uneven terrain, thanks to their long, gripping talons. I struggled to keep up with him.

We were getting quite close to the village when I felt the unfortunately familiar seizing sensation in my chest. I stopped dead, enormously regretting my walking speed that had left me a little breathless. It was growing harder by the moment to inhale.

Nor paused, realized I was no longer with him, and hurried back to my side. “Are you okay?” he asked. One of his hands moved along my back, kneading my tightening muscles. “Breathe. Breathe!” If I had the air for it, I would have informed him I was trying, and was well aware that I needed to be breathing. Unfortunately, all my energy was going into not allowing my body to suffocate me.

Nor abruptly decided that simply telling me to breathe was ineffective and changed tact. “Hold on!” This turned out to be quite literal because he seized me around the waist and hefted me against his chest.

It was impossible for a harpy to fly while carrying something, because their arms and wings were one and the same, but I could have been fooled considering how fast Nor was moving. He plunged through the forest as fast as the wind. I would have been more impressed if I wasn’t struggling to breathe at the moment. As it was, I was aware that we were moving at quite a speed.

Nor was back in the healing house within minutes. I was unceremoniously dumped on the bed and Nor darted off, rummaging through a cabinet with a noise of wood rattling and glass clinking.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. He knelt next to me, turning my head toward him. “You just need to drink this. Okay?”

I tried to inhale enough to speak and it stuck in my chest, sparking a coughing fit. Nor looked panicked and thrust the little bottle he was holding into my mouth. I sputtered, but some of the liquid spilled down my throat. There was a mild tingling and my chest loosened.

With my breathing abruptly eased, I could keep taking small sips from the bottle. The tightness loosened with every swallow. Nor slumped next to the bed, wings sagging with relief. I put down the bottle, still coughing, but breathing easier.

“Are you okay?” Nor asked. I nodded.

“You can move quick,” I said. My voice was raspy and a little strangled. I swallowed, trying to fully clear my throat.

“I was worried,” he said. “You should try carrying a bottle of this with you from now on.” He walked over to the cabinet and fetched a small bottle full of the infusion. “If you’re going to be going out more often, you’ll want something to prevent more attacks.”

I took the bottle. “That’s a good idea.” I set it down onto the table next to the bed. “Are you inviting me on more herb gathering missions, then?”

A slightly shy smile crept up Nor’s face. “If you’d like to come. You’ve been pretty good at spotting plants. And you’ve been pretty good in the gardens lately.”

“I was never really able to do a lot of gardening before,” I said. “So, I tended to overfocus on the little minute details, like soil quality and the amount of water you give the plants.”

“You’ve improved the garden a lot,” Nor said. “Oh, which reminds me. Hold on.”

He stood up and trotted over to the cabinet again. After looking through it for a few moments, he pulled out a small notebook and walked back over. “Here,” he said, presenting it to me. It looked like the notebooks he used for his own notes, a smooth black cover and soft, slightly off-white pages. “I haven’t taken many notes on the gardening aspects of herbs. I just… haven’t been very good at it. But I thought you could start taking notes on how you care for the plants. It might be useful.”

I took the notebook from his hands. Our fingers brushed as I did so. His skin was warm and calloused, the sort of skin that only came around after long, hard work. The notebook was heavy in my hands, strangely dense for such a small item. “Thank you,” I said. “I would love to do that.”

Nor stood, shifting on his talons. “Good. Um. You should probably get some rest. I’ll be back in a bit.” He hurried out of the room. I watched him go until his tail had completely vanished around the doorway.

Working in the garden only brought me closer to Nor. We spent time together every day, either going out to gather herbs or helping him with the garden. He was enthusiastic to learn and good company even when we weren’t talking about plants.

His ease with me spread to the rest of the village. By the time winter was over, I had been completely accepted as a part of the community. To them, I was not as much an outsider human as a strange, wingless harpy. Even Aerath trusted me enough to allow me to learn how to make herbal remedies, while Nor took on more of her duties, like diagnosing illnesses and dressing wounds.

During early spring, when the rains began to ease, a change set in around the village. There was a new current of excitement, the younger adults spending more time showing off and engaging in stunts. Even Nor, who had been fairly even tempered in the time I’d known him, seemed to get caught up in the excitement.

It was during my usual work in the garden that I noticed the changes were not confined to emotional. There was a physical change too. Nor’s tail feathers, usually a deep golden-brown, had taken on a rusty color. The color only brightened over the next week, going from a dull, sort of reddish orange to a bright crimson. The colors showed up on the male population of the rest of the village as well, to varying degrees. Some, especially the younger males, never got past a reddish orange, while others got to the same brilliant crimson hue as Nor’s.

While it garnered some sort of notice and people seemed pleased about it, no one was talking about what it actually meant. It clearly meant something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it was so important.

Eventually, after some time of trying to figure out what it meant on my own, I broke down and decided to ask Nor. “Your tail changed color,” I said as we headed back into the house from the garden.

“You noticed,” Nor said. His tone was utterly unreadable.

“Well, it’s a bit hard to miss. It’s a very bright color.” Nor’s unreadable expression shifted into one of clear embarrassment. “Is it something I shouldn’t mention? It seems to signal something, but I wasn’t sure what it was-”

“No, no. I mean, I guess I should have expected you to ask about it. You’re not a harpy, so you never would have been told.” He set the herbs he’d collected down on the table and turned to me, giving me his full attention. “It’s almost spring, which means that we’re approaching our mating season.”

I felt sort of stupid for not hitting upon that idea earlier. Of course. The red was to attract a mate. Was commenting on it some kind of social faux pas? As I tried to come up with that to say next, Nor continued. “We’ll have a mating ceremony soon, with the other local villages. It’s a big event, so everyone’s getting rather excited about it.”

“A… mating ceremony?” I repeated. How carnal were we talking? Was I going to have to make myself scarce for… how long did the mating ceremony last, anyway?

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Nor added hurriedly. “It’s more of a competition? Or a show, really. It lasts about a week, and the first six days are more of a festival than anything. Lots of feasting, games, shows. It’s more about getting to know the other villages and the people from them. It’s quite fun. The festival ends with the mating ceremony. It used to be a more literal interpretation of that, a long time ago. But now it’s really more of a show. Men fly around and show off, but it’s less to attract a mate and more to show off to someone you already have an attraction to. Or to get someone to ask you out, sometimes. It’s more for the fun of it and the tradition.”

“It sounds interesting,” I said.

“It should start in a couple of weeks. That’s the peak of the season,” Nor said. “I can show you around a bit, if you’d like.”

“Sure. If you’re not going to be too busy trying to find a soulmate,” I said, nudging him playfully in the side. He shrugged, glancing away.

“I’ve never actually participated all that much in it,” he said. “I’ve been kind of focused on my studies with my aunt. I spent most of my time at the last few festivals working with the other healers.”

“You should get out more, then. I can help your aunt out, if you want. Then you can go off and see the sights.”

“I already told you I’d show you around,” Nor protested. “And it’ll be your first festival.”

“Look, at least get a little time to yourself,” I said. “I can help out, you know.”

“We’ll see,” Nor said, which was as close to agreeing as I thought he was going to get.

The weeks passed slowly, with excitement ramping up as the festival got closer. I could almost feel the tension buzzing in the air, getting ready to overflow. By the time it had arrived, I was almost swept up in the rising excitement.

The fairground for the festival was a large clearing in the center of the island. It had an impressive view of the sky, and the ground was almost entirely covered in tents and attractions. Nor and I were toward the edge of the grounds, in a sort of makeshift medical tent. “We probably won’t be called on for a little bit,” he said once we’d finished setting everything up. “I can show you around.”

“Sure,” I agreed. Nor trotted off, and I followed after, looking around the festival with interest.

Most of it seemed like the sort of festivals I’d seen once or twice when I’d been young. Ever since my chest troubles had set in fully, I’d rarely gone far from my house. It looked mostly like a very fancy market. People showed off their most interesting wares, their most brightly colored or intricately designed trinkets. There were several people slightly younger than Nor picking up things that I assumed were for potential sweethearts. There were also several games, most of them for children, but a few clearly styled for adults. The food was the usual hearty fare that I’d seen at other festivals, enormously delicious and decadent.

“And this all lasts a whole week?” I asked as we made our way back to the healer’s tent. We had gotten sidetracked a few times- there were several musical performances and talent shows, and even a few classes that I’d been interested in taking.

“Well, the first and last days are the biggest ones. But yes, the whole week. For the most part.”

“Then you can take a day or two off and enjoy all this, can’t you?” I said. Nor hesitated for a moment. “I can handle things at the tent. Why don’t you take tomorrow off? It’ll be good for you to get a break.”

Nor hesitated. “I’ll have to ask my aunt.”

“I’ll make sure she says yes,” I said. “You deserve it. Especially after having to take care of me for so long.”

Nor shrugged and mumbled something about it not being a big deal. I laughed clapping him on the shoulder.

“Just take some time off. Okay?”

He agreed, finally, and we returned to the tent. There were a few injuries, of course, mostly young people trying to show off for their potential lovers, but nothing we were overwhelmed with. It took only a bit of persuading for Aerath to give Nor the next day off.

Nor went out only after making sure I kept my infusion on me. “Just be careful,” he said.

“I’m always careful,” I told him. “Now, go. And stop worrying so much.” He made a face, but left for the rest of the fairgrounds, leaving me with Aerath and the other healers.

I only spotted him a few times during the day. He seemed to have attracted a small group of friends by noon. It seemed he could get along well with others, as long as he managed to get out. Well, I reflected, he was a sweetheart. It wasn’t hard to believe that he was able to get along with others.

I’d been breathing relatively easy for so long that I hadn’t really been expecting another attack. So, when the bout of tightness came on with no warning, I was so shocked I couldn’t think of what to do for several panicked moments.

My wheezing attracted Aerath’s attention. She grabbed my shoulder and shoved me down onto a cot. I fumbled for the infusion, and Aerath helped me unstopper it and press it to my lips.

The infusion helped, but my chest still felt tight. I could draw in air, but it wasn’t enough. Black spots started to pop in front of my vision. My chest screamed with pain. I was dying. That thought sat clear and calm in my brain, rising above all the panic like foam over a tide. I’d known it was going to happen. I’d hoped it would take longer. But at least… at least the last few months of my life had been nice. My mind drifted to Nor. Hopefully he wouldn’t blame himself. He didn’t deserve that. He’d been wonderful.

Nor’s face was suddenly over mine. I blinked up at him. Ha. A nice hallucination before everything ended.

“Breathe!” Distantly, I could feel a hand on my chest, another at my mouth. Something sharp and bitter flowed past my lips and I choked, sputtering. My chest loosened abruptly and I sucked in a great breath, coughing and choking.

Nor, who I was gradually realizing was actually there and not just a hallucination, rolled me onto my side. Some of the solution drained from my mouth as I coughed it up. Nor rubbed my back vigorously, prompting another round of coughing.

Gradually, the tightness eased to just a faint raspiness and a raw pain. I sat up as Nor sank into a seat, weak with relief. “I thought you were going to die,” he said faintly.

“I did too.” My voice was gravely and everything felt raw. “The infusion wasn’t working. What did you use?”

“It was experimental,” Nor said a little sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to make it stronger, something that works better.”

“Thank goodness it did,” I said. I got slowly off the cot where I’d collapsed. Nor stood as well, staying close by like he was preparing to catch me.

“Maybe we should fine somewhere to rest,” Nor said. “The attack probably took it out of you.”

Despite your protests, Nor followed you back home and insisted on staying with you. “Just in case,” he kept repeating.

Nor kept near my side for the next few days, even when I tried to gently push him to spend time elsewhere and enjoy the event. The only times he seemed willing to leave was when I was going with him, at which point he took great enthusiasm in showing me around the various games and events that were being held. Being near him allowed even me to make some new friends- those who would have been unsettled by the sight of some strange, wingless creature seemed reassured enough by Nor’s friendly presence to approach.

Despite his insistence on sticking with me, I did convince him to take another day off for the last day of the festival. It was the day of the mating ceremony, and, given that Nor was of proper age, possibly even a little old, to participate in it, I wanted to give him time to do so.

The showing started at noon sharp, when the sun was at its zenith. Most of the people flying were male, though a few women had painted their tails red and were flying as well. A few would take off at a time and move in carefully coordinated dances. Some were conservative and simple, others were aggressive and risk-taking. Eventually, they would land back in the throng of people staring at the sky. Some of them landed and slipped off with a single partner. Others landed and seemed to attract a group, each of the admirers vying for attention.

After about an hour, I meandered off to the bank of a nearby river. Watching harpies fly was interesting, but it did get old after a while and I was getting a crick in my neck from looking up.

I had only been soaking my feet in the river for a few minutes when Nor walked up to me and sat down next to me. “Wondered where you’d gone,” he said. “Doing all right?”

“Fine. You don’t need to be so worried.”

Nor dipped his talons into the water. “Mm. I guess. But I do anyway.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I said. “You spent half of the festival trailing after me like I would collapse the instant you took your eyes off me. And now you’re missing out on the flight ceremony.”

It was hard to tell with his deeply tanned skin, but I thought Nor went a little pink. “I wasn’t really planning to fly anyway,” he said.

“No one caught your eye?” I asked. There was a long pause. “Nor?”

“Not as such,” he said. “I mean… Sort of.”

“And you’ve been spending all your time trying to look after me instead of enjoying the festival with her,” I said. “You know, I don’t need you to hover around me. You don’t need to feel guilty if anything happens to me. I’ve known I’m probably not going to live that long.”

Nor’s expression twisted a little bit. “I’ve been trying to fix that. I think I’ve got a concoction right. If you take it daily, it should help you-”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Hey. You don’t need to spend all your time on me, you know? You can have a life. You’re not responsible for me.”

“It’s not about that,” Nor said. “I wasn’t worried about you. Well, not just that. I…” He stopped for a moment. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Oh. That created a runny sensation in my chest, like my heart flipped over. “You wanted to-”

“Don’t be that surprised. I haven’t really been subtle about it,” Nor said. “Yes. I like being around you. Why did you think I kept inviting you to do stuff with me and stayed with you instead of going to the festival?”

“I thought you just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to suffocate in your absence,” I said.

“A little bit. But mostly because I like you,” he said. He peered into my face, a tentative smile on his lips. “You don’t seem upset?”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m pleased, actually.”

“Really?” Nor’s face was quite close to mine. His lips were parted. I could feel the soft warmth of his breath.

“Really.” Our lips were quite close to touching. Just before making contact, Nor seemed to stall, hesitation overcoming desire. I smiled and leaned in, pressing our lips together in a gentle moment of contact.

Neither of us had much experience kissing, so it was a bit clumsy and we clacked teeth more than once. Still, when we broke apart, I felt breathless in the most positive way I’d ever experienced.

“We should go back,” Nor said, still staring at me. “I… I think I want to participate in the ceremony after all.”

I smiled. “I’ll be watching.”

[aquaquadrant]

the little things

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

~*~

Ben’s been reunited with the other campers, and seems to have come out the other end of his experience stronger than ever before. But as he slowly finds his place back within the group, a bigger picture starts to emerge, piece by piece.

Rated T for: mental illness, mild language, panic attacks, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, eating disorder (not in a traditional sense, but definitely not a healthy relationship with food)

A/N: Hey Camp Cretaceous fandom, y’all mind if I uhhhh write six-thousand words about Ben’s trauma?? Basically, Netflix kept recommending the show to me so I watched the first ep out of curiosity and then ended up binging the whole thing in like two days, and now here I am.

(Dear sweet, patient, regular readers of mine: I’m so sorry my main fic’s been delayed but I promise it’s getting updated next week, I just had to get some feelings out about Sad Dino Boy)

Hope you enjoy, please reblog and leave a comment if you do! - Aqua

Click here to read on A03 (with more complete tags)

~*~

the little things

~*~ 

Ben Pincus has returned from the dead, and he’s never been better.

The other campers are amazed. What he’s been through must have been horrible. He thought he was the only one left, that there was no one to help him and no hope of rescue because he was presumed dead. It would’ve been enough to drive anyone into despair, or off of the deep end.

But Ben shows no signs of this.

They didn’t find him holed up somewhere, near starvation and waiting to die, like one might’ve expected. They didn’t find him at all, really. He found them, and by coming to their rescue, no less. And when he did, he wasn’t a trembling mess, he wasn’t a half-mad ball of paranoia, and he wasn’t a hollow-eyed skeleton fueled solely by desperation. 

He’s an all new and improved Ben, the best version of himself.

He hasn’t just survived, he’s flourished. He’s brave, he’s confident, he’s capable. He gives his opinions freely and without second-guessing himself, suggesting things the old Ben would’ve recoiled at. He fits seamlessly into the team like he never left. He faces problems head-on with determination and grit and not a trace of fear.

The turnaround is unbelievable. But even more important is that while he’s a new and improved Ben, he’s retained all the best parts of his old self.

Ben is easy smiles and meticulous organization of a leather waist bag and doting affection for a four-ton armored lizard. He’s sensitive and soft-spoken and accepts hugs from his friends gratefully. He still can’t quite pull off coolness, with a voice that sounds as gangly as his limbs look and an awkwardness he hasn’t grown out of.

And it’s perhaps because of this that no one thinks to look closer. This image is an easy thing to accept because it’s what they all want to believe, that Ben is okay- in fact, better than okay. But the truth is not always big and obvious upon first glance.

It’s the little things, as they soon find out.

~*~

That first evening after Ben’s return, after Mitch and Tiff and everything else, they don’t eat dinner.

They all ate their fill at the campsite and, after a month of scarcity, it was more than enough to sate their appetites. It’s Darius who thinks to ask Ben if he’s hungry, remembering that the boy hadn’t had the chance to eat with them. They have a good stockpile of food at the moment and he figures Ben must’ve been struggling.

But Ben shakes his head with an easy smile, and says, “Nah, I ate earlier.”

Darius leaves it at that, because there’s still so much catching up to do. They show Ben around their clubhouse, make plans for where to build a bunk for him (he insists he’d be just fine sleeping on the ground next to Bumpy, but they all veto that immediately). They talk well into the night about the day’s crazy events, filling each other in on their own sides of the story, and everything that’s happened since Ben got separated.

There are some more tears, some more hugs. But ultimately, the mood in the clubhouse is ecstatic. They never thought Ben had survived the fall so to have him back is better than a dream come true, it’s a miracle.

Darius thought he knew what it was to experience a miracle when they first saw that bonfire smoke on the horizon. But if he had to chose between the miracle of them finally leaving the island or the miracle of getting Ben back, it’s not even a competition.

Eventually the exhaustion catches up with everyone, and they turn in for the night. Bumpy parks herself underneath the clubhouse, her presence incredibly reassuring. Ben ends up sharing Kenji’s bunk because it’s bigger than Darius’s even when occupied by two, and the older teen had insisted in a very faux-casual way, to which Ben had rolled his eyes but nonetheless seemed touched by the gesture.

Darius takes the first night watch shift and gets to see all his friends sleeping peacefully. And even though Tiff sailed away with their only means for escaping, he feels a lot more hopeful than he has in a long time.

~*~

It’s canned peaches for breakfast.

A far cry from yesterday’s buffet. But no one’s complaining because the meticulous rationing of their food, courtesy of Darius, means they’re all starving by meal time and couldn’t care less what it tastes like. Darius is in the process of separating the food out into bowls, half a can for each of them, when he realizes Ben has yet to take a seat. He’s lingering at the edge of the room, watching.

“Hey,” Darius calls, “you coming or what?”

Ben shakes his head. “Thanks, but I already got my own breakfast.”

Before Darius can respond, Brooklynn shoots Ben a look. “What? Where?” she demands. “You holding out on us, jungle boy?”

Darius shoots her a look, but Ben just gives an easy smile and unzips the leather pouch that’s reclaimed its spot around his waist. He withdraws a small handful of bright red berries, no bigger than blueberries. It’s not even a fraction of the half-can of peaches the rest of them are settling for, and Darius sees his own unease reflected in the others’ eyes.

Brooklynn glances away. “Oh. Um, sorry. You don’t… you can have some of ours, you know?”

“I’m good.” Ben tosses a couple berries into his mouth. “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go check on Bumpy.”

“O- oh, okay…” Sammy murmurs, watching Ben go with uncertain eyes. “If you’re sure…”

They’re silent for a moment.

Kenji inhales quietly through his teeth. “So… that’s weird, right?”

Yaz leans forward in her seat. “What do you think, Darius?” she asks lowly.

Darius bites his lip. Even though dinosaurs are his specific topic of interest, he’s gained a lot of second-hand knowledge about general biology and psychology. After all, he has to understand the processes behind behavior in order to identify patterns and deviations.

And right now, he has to admit that Ben is displaying a very concerning behavior.

“I’ll talk to him,” Darius decides.

There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table, and the others start eating. It takes Darius longer than usual to finish his serving.

~*~

“So, uh, bottom line is… you don’t need to feel bad about eating our food. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else, and we’re happy to share.”

After a couple tense days, Darius is finally talking to Ben about the food situation. Or rather, talking at him. Because Ben’s not looking at Darius- his eyes are tracking the small spider that’s crawling along the railing next to them. Normally, Darius would take it as a sign of boredom and inattentiveness. But there’s an intensity in Ben’s eye that’s a little unsettling-

Quick as a flash, Ben shoots out an arm. He crushes the spider under his thumb and swipes it into his mouth. And then, untroubled as can be, he returns his focus to Darius as if nothing had happened.

Darius has overheard Kenji teasing Ben about eating bugs, and Ben has admitted as much in the stories of his time alone. Berries and grubs were what he lived on. Darius, for one, can’t imagine being hungry and desperate enough to snatch a bug off the ground and eat it.

But it’s even harder to imagine having access to real food, good food, and still choosing to eat bugs.

“Don’t worry so much,” Ben says lightly, patting Darius on the shoulder as he turns to go. “I can take care of myself.”

That does it. “You can’t keep living off berries and grubs!” Darius finally snaps.

Ben whirls around. “Says who?”

“Basic human biology!” Darius retorts.

Ben glares at him, but there’s something shaky behind it. “Darius, I told you it’s fine,” he says evenly, though he doesn’t fully meet Darius’s gaze. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Please? If I’m hungry, I’ll eat.”

Darius hesitates. “You promise?”

Ben breaks into an easy smile. “I promise.”

Darius sighs. It’ll have to be good enough, for now.

“Okay.”

~*~

Darius knows he isn’t the only one still concerned by Ben’s lack of appetite.

Right from the start, Ben was the scrawniest one among them, and it’s only gotten worse. But surely he’ll have to eat at some point, right? Basic survival instincts will win out over whatever stubborn mindset is holding him back. Plus, it’s clear that he’s got enough energy to run and climb and stuff with no problem.

Maybe it’s not as serious as Darius thinks. Maybe Ben just needs time.

~*~

Ben doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He just- he can’t take their food! Why don’t they get that?

And it’s not because he’s stubborn, it’s not- no matter what Darius thinks. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you (as long as you don’t let it make you soft, of course). After all, he relies on Bumpy. He just… when he looks at the food, and imagines eating it, he just knows it’ll sit in his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down.

Plus, plus, if he gets used to eating like that, it’ll just- it’ll be harder to cope once it runs out. He’s already gotten used to roughing it and it was hard enough the first time, he can’t let himself slip back into complacency. And- and really, how long do they think it’s going to last? They’ve searched all the previously inhabited areas of the island and there’s no more food for them to scavenge.

Do they think they’ll be rescued before it runs out? No one is coming to save them. They know it as much as Ben does- they wouldn’t be bothering with rafts if they didn’t. Do they think they’ll escape, then? Sure, because their current attempts have been going so well.

No, they just aren’t thinking long term. Ben is.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

~*~

It’s the sixth day in a row where Ben eats nothing but berries.

He wants to search around some more, see if there’s anything more substantial. That would require him to leave Bumpy, though. And he can’t leave Bumpy. But the hunger is excruciating. It gnaws at him every waking moment, keeps him up at night. He’s never felt such hunger in his life, not even close. He can’t keep going like this, can he?

But there’s nothing else.

Except… something’s crawling up his arm. Something small, and leggy. Ben turns his head, squinting to focus his eyes in the dark. It’s some kind of beetle, with a shiny shell that catches stray shafts of moonlight poking through the roof of his lean-to.

Ben stares at it for a moment. Then, before he can think, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. He barely registers any taste, mostly just the crunchy texture. And even though it wasn’t any bigger than a quarter, after he swallows, he feels… fuller. Even if it’s purely imagined, it’s a comfort.

Berries and grubs. It’ll have to be enough.

There’s nothing else.

~*~

Ben continues to decline their offers of food.

~*~

A few weeks after the reunion, Kenji is starting to get antsy.

As the self-designated ‘pro-fun police’ (a clever play on ‘no-fun police,’ if Kenji does say so himself), he’s made it his responsibility to make sure none of his friends just keel over and die from stress one day. That means it’s his job- no, his duty- to lighten the mood with copious amounts of joking, goofing off, and, of course, pranking.

Jumping out to scare his friends while they’re trapped on a dino-infested island might, on paper, sound like a bad idea. But it keeps everyone on their toes, and the relief of realizing they aren’t facing a dino attack, just Kenji pulling a prank, helps keep any real anger at bay. It’s typically an exasperated annoyance, which Kenji will gladly take. His main targets are Brooklynn and Darius, because he can’t fathom doing that to Sammy, and Yaz is- while perhaps in the most need of lightening up- super freaking scary.

But now that Ben’s back, Kenji knows what he has to do.

Before, back when they were just campers and not survivors, Ben was easily the most frightened of them. The kid was scared of dirt. And his over-the-top hysterics always managed to, somehow, put everyone else at ease. Because if Ben was scared of something, that didn’t really mean anything. Again; scared of dirt.

(Now, if Yaz is scared of something, that’s a different story).

Since Ben’s, uh… departure, they’ve been sorely lacking that energy in the group. Kenji would wager he’s not the only one who misses it. He used to have so much fun riling Ben up with just a couple words (none of the others are so easily baited). And whenever Ben would freak out and instantly cling to him, like some kind of scrawny spider monkey, it made Kenji feel… capable, in a way.

Like, if Ben was trusting Kenji to protect him, maybe he wasn’t so useless after all (which was becoming an all too frequent feeling as the others continued to adapt and grow, leaving Kenji struggling to keep up).

Problem is, Ben’s really hard to scare now.

It’s not always obvious, like when he’s bragging about taking down Toro or itching to blow things up. Sometimes it’s the little things. Whenever they’re out in a group, foraging or gathering supplies, and there’s a sound in the distance that makes them all freeze, Ben’s frozen in readiness, not fear. He looks more like Yaz, tense and waiting with his fists up and eyes narrowed.

Sometimes, when they aren’t occupied by any particular task or imminent threat, and have the chance to enjoy some downtime, Ben drifts off to the side and just… watches, all tense, silent, and anxious. He’ll watch the tree line, or Bumpy on the ground below, or even just the rest of them as they go about their business. Kenji is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed but none of them bring it up.

It’s… unsettling, seeing Ben like this. Kenji figured he just needed a couple weeks to fall back into the rhythm of the group, to see that he didn’t have to be this loner Rambo type of guy anymore. But even though he talks with them easy enough, seems to enjoy their company, and has a good handle on teamwork, it’s like there’s a part of him that can’t fully shake that mentality.

At least, not without help.

~*~

 Kenji’s plan is- in his humble opinion- pretty dang brilliant.

He waits for a time when it’s just him and Ben in the main level of the clubhouse (Yaz is running laps around their perimeter, Darius is in his bunk writing in his nerd book, Brooklynn and Sammy are upstairs going over inventory) and then announces he’s going for a shower. His daily showers are common knowledge at this point, so Ben just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to leaning against the railing, watching Bumpy graze down below in that tense-silent-anxious way of his.

Kenji sets up the shower and lets it run (he’ll go down to the river later and get more water to make up for the waste, because even though he tries to avoid manual labor whenever possible, it’s totally worth it in this case). And then, being more careful and silent than he’s ever been (except maybe in cases where he’s being hunted by dinos), he slowly creeps up behind Ben before leaping forward with a shriek, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Ben doesn’t just jump and scream. He jumps, screams, then spins around and swings a fist into Kenji’s jaw in one smooth motion.

Kenji’s laughing even as he staggers back, his jaw stinging (because at the end of the day, even though Ben’s kind of a badass now, he’s still Ben and his arms are pretty much chicken wings so there’s no real harm done, just a bruise at most). Plus that’s a valid reaction, considering everything, and he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Oh man, I totally got you!” Kenji says anyways, to rub it in. “You should see your… face...”

And Kenji trails off because now he’s seeing Ben’s face.

What Kenji expected is this:

Once Ben realized it was just him pulling a prank, he would get mad. In that totally non-threatening dorky Ben way, where he scrunches his nose and puffs out his cheeks, his little fists clenched at his side like an irate toddler. Maybe he’d stomp off but it’d be worth it because being mad is better than being tense-silent-anxious and it’d give him the chance to be annoyed with Kenji. And maybe Ben being annoyed with Kenji would help everything feel a little more normal, a little more like before.

What Kenji gets is this:

Once Ben realizes it was just him pulling a prank, he doesn’t get mad. He starts shaking. Violently, uncontrollably. Like he’s suddenly come down with hypothermia despite being in a tropical jungle, staring at Kenji all the while and not saying a word. His chest rises and falls rapidly in little panicky breaths and the kind of fear in his eyes isn’t the kind that’s funny. It’s glassy-eyed with shrunken pupils that dart around Kenji’s face, frightened and searching, as if he isn’t fully seeing it.

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

Kenji hasn’t heard Ben’s voice sound that small since before, and it doesn’t feel like a victory.

By now, of course, the others have noticed the commotion and it doesn’t take more than a second for them to piece together what happened. Yaz rounds on Kenji with a furious snarl and whisper-screams a lecture about how stupid and irresponsible he is. Darius is immediately trying to mediate the situation while Sammy frantically asks Ben if he’s okay, to which he doesn’t respond. Brooklynn steps in, citing an unboxing video about dealing with shock, and when she goes to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he lets her.

And now Kenji realizes where he miscalculated. Ben never showed discomfort with physical contact before because he’d never been surprised by it before (because Ben has gotten scary good at being alert, always keeping an eye and an ear out on his surroundings even in the middle of a conversation). And when it came to his friends, it wasn’t unexpected for Sammy to rush in with a hug or Darius to pat his shoulder or Brooklynn to playfully knock elbows.

But Kenji snuck up on him, so Ben’s first thought wasn’t that it was a friend. It was that he was going to have to run for his life, like he has countless times since being stranded on this island.

Kenji apologizes over and over again as Darius gently leads him away by the elbow and Brooklynn talks to Ben in low tones while Sammy squeezes his hand and Yaz takes up a lookout position because they can’t afford for all of them to be distracted even though she occasionally cuts a glare at Kenji out of the corner of her eye so it’s really debatable how vigilant she’s actually being.

Throughout it all, Ben doesn’t get mad, but he doesn’t stop shaking.

 ~*~

 Darius explains it, later.

“The sudden fear reaction signaled a bunch of adrenaline to be released into his bloodstream, to give him the energy needed for running. And then, when he didn’t, there was nowhere for that energy to go. It’s like, even though his mind knew there wasn’t any danger, his body wasn’t convinced.” Then, a sympathetic look. “You didn’t know, man.”

Kenji only nods. But knowing doesn’t make it better because even though Ben’s stopped shaking he doesn’t turn his back on Kenji anymore and somehow that’s a million times worse than if he’d gotten mad.

 ~*~

 There are claws wrapped around Ben’s shoulders and shrieks in his ears.

Wind whips his face and his stomach lurches as he’s carried through the air, weightless, at the mercy of the Pteranodon. He’s never felt so small and utterly helpless before, not once in his life. Even his screams aren’t big enough to carry, snatched away by the wind and deafened by the roars of the terror-birds fighting over the right to tear him limb from limb.

And then he’s falling and has other things to worry about.

 ~*~

 Ben stops sharing Kenji’s bunk.

 ~*~

 In a rare moment of downtime, Yasmina is curled up with Darius’s field guide, adding a few more illustrations, when she feels Ben staring at her.

It’s not the first time she’s felt him staring at her. It is the first time, however, that she decides to stare back.

She means it to be playful, at first. She meets his eyes, one brow quirked as if to say, ‘What, is there something on my face?’ But instead of glancing away in sheepish embarrassment or jolting out of a daze, Ben just stares back. There’s no emotion in his expression at all except intense focus.

The faint smile drops from Yasmina’s face as she stares back in surprise. Then, with ever-growing confusion and a fair amount of alarm, she realizes that Ben’s shoulders are rising, tense and hunched like he’s trying to make himself look bigger.

Like an animal.

Yasmina knows what it is to stare down a wild animal. She’s felt predatory eyes on her before and either bolted or turned to face the challenge. And that’s what it is, for some of the dinos- a challenge. Sometimes they’re testing your mettle, and standing your ground is enough to make them back off.

Ben must’ve learned that, too. And for whatever reason, he’s slipping into that behavior now.

It’s a ridiculous thought. This is Ben, her friend. Her very scrawny friend who can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and prefers a diet of berries and grubs. And yet, here he is, staring her down like she’s a particularly bold pack of Compies that’s decided to threaten him.

Yasmina gives a slow, deliberate blink. “Ben?” she calls. “What’s up?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. Ben gives a violent start, blinking and shaking his head. Yasmina sees confusion flash across his face, and then realization. And now the embarrassment comes, but it’s darkened by something like horror.

Without a word, Ben turns and darts away, scrambling down the ladder to the alcove underneath the house where Bumpy’s napping.

Yasmina lets him go, too baffled and unsettled to form words.

 ~*~

 Eventually, Yasmina tells Darius about it.

His expression is troubled as she runs through the incident. But in the end, there’s nothing more he can tell her than what she’s already worked out on her own. It’s just another side effect of the mindset Ben has adopted throughout his isolation. Those habits were what he relied on to survive, and it’ll take time for him to realize he doesn’t have to constantly be on edge now that he’s got a team to look out for him.

Though privately, Yasmina wonders if maybe the rest of them should take a page out of Ben’s book. Seems like he’s got a better handle on survival than they do.

(And then she thinks how Sammy would react, if Yasmina started acting like a wary animal around her, and she realizes Ben’s methods come with a price.)

 ~*~

 After Ben runs the Compies off for the first time, staring becomes a defense tactic.

It’s not always the Compies, who are slowly but surely learning not to mess with him. Sometimes it’s the Parasaurolophus in the river, or the lone Pteranodon perched in a tree, or the group of Edmontosauruses grazing on the hilltop. As soon as he feels their eyes on him, he knows his best chance is to stare back, to show that he’s willing to put up a fight, that chasing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Obviously, there are some dinosaurs that doesn’t work on. But if Ben can drastically cut down the amount of time spent running for his life by standing his ground, then he’ll take it.

All he has to do is not back down.

 ~*~

 Ben avoids Yasmina for the next few days.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn wakes up in the middle of the night with an unshakeable feeling that something is wrong.

Her bad feeling is confirmed when she gets a look at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she should’ve been woken up by Ben to take her night watch shift at least an hour ago. This practice, established by Darius months ago who insisted they should always have at least one person awake, has already become routine within the group. Brooklynn couldn’t sleep fully through the night if she tried.

Ben’s only just recently become a part of the routine. Immediately after his return, Darius thought it best just to let Ben settle in and get as much rest as he could, now that he had the security to do so, and everyone agreed. Ben had insisted he didn’t mind, but Darius stood firm, so it’s only been within the last few days that Ben took part.

But this is the first time he hasn’t woken Brooklynn up and her heart is in her throat as she rushes to the lookout point-

Only to find Ben sitting right where he’s supposed to be, looking out over their compound as a small candle burns next to him.

As soon as Brooklynn’s relief passes, it’s replaced with anger. “What are you doing?” she whispers furiously.

Ben, not at all surprised by her presence, gives her a sidelong look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You were supposed to wake me up, so I could do night watch.” Brooklynn struggles to keep her voice low, so as not to alert the others. “What gives?”

Ben shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight, so I figured I’d just take the whole watch myself.”

“That’s not how this works,” Brooklynn hisses, crossing her arms. “Even if you can’t fall asleep- and I’ve totally been there- you have to lay down and close your eyes and rest. You need to rest.”

Ben breaks into an easy smile, but Brooklynn can see the annoyed creases at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know,” Brooklynn interrupts, hating how frustrated she sounds but unable to help it. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team. We can take care of you too, alright?”

Ben stares at her for a moment. “I know that,” he says, sounding uncertain.

Brooklynn softens. When she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, he lets her. “Then… why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben admits. The muscles beneath Brooklynn’s hand are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. “I don’t know.”

They finish the night watch together.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn almost hates to bring it up to Darius.

Dude’s stressing almost nonstop about everything, all the time. And it really isn’t fair for him to be responsible for the rest of them, including Ben. But Darius is the only one who seems to have the… what’s it called, emotional intelligence, she supposes, to weigh in on the situation.

(Sammy is a close second, but her brand of caring is a little more touchy-feely, and this doesn’t seem like the right time for that.)

Darius is immediately worried, pointing out that Ben might accidentally fall asleep on watch if he keeps this up (something Brooklynn hadn’t even thought about). He promises to talk to Ben about it, and that’s that.

Brooklynn is only slightly relieved because she knows if Darius had a real fix for the problem, he would’ve said so. And if Darius doesn’t have a fix for it, maybe there isn’t one.

 ~*~

 Those first several nights, Ben doesn’t sleep at all.

And it’s not for lack of trying. But how can he sleep, when it’s pitch black and the jungle is full of unfamiliar sounds and he’s got no one but a baby Ankylosaurus by his side? He soon finds it’s even worse without Bumpy, though, because at least he trusted that Bumpy would wake up if there was any danger, as her senses are more powerful than his.

On his own, there’s no one to wake him up. So he has to stay up, and settle for catching short scattered naps throughout the day (if he can find a tree to hide up in).

It’s hard, but he’d rather be tired than dead.

 ~*~

 Ben is taken off night watch, but still ends up awake more often than not.

 ~*~

 Pyromaniac is a word no one ever expected to become synonymous with Ben, and yet here they are.

It’s one of the first things he always suggests as an answer to a problem; blow something up. Darius has a million reasons for them not to do that; they could get hurt, they could start a wildfire and burn the jungle down, they could attract unwanted attention from predators.

But that doesn’t stop Ben from cataloguing everything on the island that can be used as an explosive, memorizing their locations or creating hidden stashes. It doesn’t stop him from using the candles that came with the scavenged emergency kits. He’ll light them for no reason, just to watch the small flame flicker back and forth.

(Someday, months later, they’ll encounter a horrific hybrid dinosaur that is drawn to flames, and they’ll all think about how unsettling it is that Ben shares this trait, but none of them will say it.)

 ~*~

 It’s been one week since Bumpy left, and Ben is starting a fire.

Just a small one. It rained all day and he’s soaked to the bone, which normally wouldn’t be a huge problem considering the jungle climate. But now that it’s nighttime, there’s a chill in the air and he can’t afford to get sick. It’s risky, because at night he knows the light could draw attention to him, but his teeth are starting to chatter so there’s no helping it.

When a Stegosaurus stumbles upon him, baying low and angry at finding another creature in its territory, it’s the fire that makes it balk. Rumbling displeasure, it retreats back into the dark jungle. Ben quickly adds torches to his arsenal, using the rest of his shirt as tinder.

Fire is safety.

 ~*~

 Ben lights his candles in silence.

 ~*~

 “You can’t just run off like that,” Kenji says, deadly serious.

Ben scoffs. “I think you’re forgetting who defeated Toro,” he says with an easy smile.

“You’re not invincible, Ben!” Kenji snaps. The anger churning inside him is deceptively hollow, like it’s masking something else. “And I can’t lose you again.”

Ben isn’t smiling anymore. “You won’t,” he mutters, pushing past Kenji. “I can take care of myself, now. I don’t need you to play the hero and protect me.”

Kenji wants to protest that’s not what this is about, and that’s never been what this is about, but Ben is already gone.

 ~*~

 Ben still lives off berries and grubs.

 ~*~

 “… and so I was thinking, berries have seeds in them, right? So if we plant some, we’ll have our own berry bushes at the clubhouse. It’ll cut down our foraging time in the mornings for sure, and-”

“Uh, who are you talking to, Ben?”

Ben blinks at Yasmina’s voice, the girl having only just entered the room.

“Um, Bumpy?” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Yasmina glances out at the compound, where Bumpy is fast asleep and well out of earshot.

“… right.”

 ~*~

 Ben can’t sleep, even when he’s actually trying.

 ~*~

 “Alright,” Darius says, “so we need to get the T-Rex out of Main Street so we can do another sweep for supplies. Any ideas?”

Ben’s hand goes up.

“For the hundredth time, Ben, we aren’t going to feed the T-Rex to the Mosasaurus.”

Ben’s hand goes down.

 ~*~

 Ben feels more at home with Bumpy than the other campers.

 ~*~

 “You know we didn’t mean to leave you, right? We would’ve come back for you if we’d known…”

 ~*~

 Ben never talks about getting off the island.

 ~*~

 “You have to tell us where you’re going, Ben, you can’t just disappear-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps slipping away.

 ~*~

“Blowing stuff up isn’t the answer to everything!”

~*~

 Ben keeps saying he’s okay.

 ~*~

 “We’re a team, we have to work together-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps smiling.

 ~*~

 “Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

 ~*~

 Ben doesn’t know.

 ~*~

 Sammy finds Ben sitting on the roof of the clubhouse one day.

Her footsteps are loud and obvious as she approaches him. No chance of sneaking up. She knows he’s noticed her, from the subtle shift in his body. He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, continuing to stare off over the jungle and into the horizon, his skinny legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the edge.

The sun’s about to set, a few stars already twinkling in the purple edges of the sky. Sammy can remember another night, months ago, where Ben wasn’t here but everyone else was and they spotted bonfire smoke in the distance. She remembers the way her heart raced, the overwhelming joy and relief flooding through her. And yet, there had been undeniable heartache, because the realization that they’d made it out only meant it was more unfair that Ben hadn’t.

Sammy breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, but she can see the easy smile that slants across his face, dying sunlight reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Sammy sees the lie for what it is. None of them are okay. No one who’s been through what they have would be. But there’s a certain danger that comes with not being willing to admit it, and an even greater danger that comes with not being able to see it.

“Y’know, it’d be fine if you weren’t.”

Ben doesn’t answer.

Sammy sits with him until the sky turns dark.

 ~*~

 It’s the way he struggles to eat anything he hasn’t obtained by himself.

It’s the way he sometimes goes off on his own without telling anyone.

It’s the way he talks to himself when he thinks no one else is around.

It’s the way he takes any concern for his safety as a personal attack.

It’s the way he leaps at the chance to blow something up.

It’s the way he can stare silently for hours.

It’s the way he smiles a little too easily.

 ~*~

 It’s not jumping at every unexpected movement, or screaming awake from night terrors, or flinching away from the slightest touch. It’s not loud meltdowns or hysterical sobbing or uncontrollable fits of rage.

(Even though those will come, someday, when the island is just a memory.)

It’s the little things, that- once you notice them- keep piling up.

And suddenly, they don’t seem so little anymore.

 ~*~

[mihidecet]

Sbi&co: D&D AU: The Hunt

Hello everyone! I’m a tad bit late but I do hope the extra wait was worth it ahahha

And I hope you’ll enjoy it! Let me know if you do, and as always thank you for reading! <3

"Alright boys, can everyone hear me?" 

Tubbo's voice sounds crystal clear through the arcane earrings they have been given, but Quackity's nose still scrunches up: it's so weird to see his mouth moving in front of him and hear his voice come from a completely different direction. 

Thankfully - or maybe not - they won't be seeing each other much during this game. Another good thing is how he won't have to do much running either, if everything goes well; he still feels very much sore after last week's obstacle course, so he absolutely does not mind staying back and coordinating everyone. That and, if anyone was in need of help, he could swoop in and save the day - always a win in his book.

Quackity gives a sharp nod with his head towards Tubbo, who smiles enthusiastically before turning back towards Fundy to resume talking about how they'll manage to replicate the enchantment for themselves. A part of him wants to get in on the fun, fantasize about how quests will be so much easier with the ability to communicate remotely. He can already imagine a grand infiltration mission that that would require elegant gowns and fancy clothes, concealed weapons and arcane tricks hidden up their sleeves, all with the objective of recovering an artifact of vital importance- 

But he stops and shakes his head, as if it could get rid of those silly dreams. For once, it's not like he can really … stay; and also, he has much more important things to do.

Niki is in the process of stretching when a young looking wizard skips towards them with a blinding smile to let them know that they'll be opening the gates in less than five minutes. He figures that maybe he should have been warming up too, but his favourite pastime has always been people watching - which is extremely nostalgic for him and probably slightly weird from an outside perspective. Before he can lose himself again in his own mind - nerves will do that to him, he’s been noticing - a hand appears in front of his face and he grabs onto it on instinct. The fact that he’s hoisted upright quickly and efficiently clues him onto who it was, and he smiles gratefully at Niki. 

She looks up at him, reciprocating the smile except for the slight furrow in her brows - a silent question, her wondering of why he’s been spacing out, but it’s not that bad after all, he can definitely handle it; he waves off her worries, gesturing with his head towards the bright gallery that will lead them towards the arena as he chuckles to himself. 

“Is it time? I must have spaced out for more than I expected!” He half-jokes, willing to share his worry only partially, and realises he’s probably said too much when the crease in Niki’s forehead only deepens.

“Are you feeling well, Quackity? Is your shoulder still hurting?” The bard is - painfully - reminded that he is talking with a literal angel as her hand reaches forwards, palm already glowing slightly golden with what he’s come to learn is the sign of her healing divine magic, and he takes a step back, hands raised to stop her.

“I’m all good, no problem at all! I just got- distracted for a moment. Needed to clear my mind and all that ... It won’t happen during the hunt!” He adds hurriedly, suddenly realising that spacing out isn’t a really good sign when you’re supposed to be in charge of coordinating the whole team, but still, he knows what he has to do and he’s not going to lose himself in his own mind while they’re working - he wouldn’t still be alive in his line of work if that was the case! 

But there’s a hand placed on his shoulder and Niki is smiling at him again, which has, for better or for worse, always been able to calm his nerves down. It’s not even like he’s know these people for a long time, and yet he knows that if he could, he’d stick around for the rest of his days, probably. If they wanted him to. 

“It’s alright, I understand. I know we’re in good hands, we’ve been training for this.” Niki comments, sounding so sure of her words that he feels like he agrees with that too, to hell with his own self doubt. 

“Of course! We know we’re in safe hands, big guy!” Tubbo adds, startling as he once again appears to reside inside his head, and Quackity is suddenly hoping that he didn’t accidentally broadcast their conversation to the rest of their team. 

Before he can add anything else - or ask very subtly if either heard them talking - an arm is suddenly slung over his shoulders, the smell of ink and sulfur worming its way into his nose as Fundy leans on him and starts leading him towards the tunnel. 

“Come on, enough with the training and the moping, we have amulets and gold to collect!” The conman exclaims, receiving a raised eyebrow from Quackity himself as the bard resigns to becoming a temporary armrest - he’s learnt that that is simply what Fundy does, be it in his fox form or his human form, he’s always on his or somebody else’s shoulders. It’d be sweet if it wasn’t for the indirect reminder of his height, or lack thereof. 

“Oh, and you would know all about collecting gold, uh?” Quackity quips back as Niki and Tubbo both fall into step with them, Tubbo’s mechanical bee buzzing right behind. 

“It was one time!” The shifter laments, prompting the rest of the group to burst out laughing, Niki’s voice raising over the others’ to protest:

“It wasn’t just one!” 

Then, the roar of the crowd fills their ears, and they step into the arena.

It doesn’t take Fundy much to reach the first portal.

The arena has been suited for the occasion, since what used to be a huge but empty field of sand is now a thick, jungle-like forest, with vines that droop from a ceiling of leaves and brightly coloured plants that snap their petals at him when he runs by. 

It didn’t take him long to get used to digging his way through the foliage, his shifter blood surely aiding him in the process, but he still tries not to move too fast - he will need to get back to the main clearing multiple times, to bring back the amulets that will give them more time to explore. 

One of his hands lightly grazes a leaf, leaving behind a smear of orange - he has Quackity to thank for procuring them the thick paints they coated their hands with before starting, so that their paths will be marked; easy to follow for both them and the bard himself, if any of them would ever need assistance. 

He’s been running for only a handful of seconds when the light blue glow of a portal catches his eye: he smacks his hands to the side of the tree that marks his change in direction, leaving behind a much thicker mark, and jumps into the portal.

“Light blue portal, I’m in … catacombs, I think.” He says, focusing on his newly acquired magical earring in order to broadcast the information to the rest of his team. A series of loud whoops answer him, bringing a satisfied grin to his face, and he slows down for a moment, trying to listen for anything happening further down the chambers he’s found himself in, eyes scanning the ground for any hidden traps. 

The coast seems to be clear - there’s a faint whispering coming from the portal behind him, the familiar gentle hum of conjuration magic, but he’s fairly certain that he’s the only living thing in there. 

Which in hindsight was exactly the point, he realises a moment later as he enters a dimly lit room, when an arrow sails just a couple of inches past his face - he flinches away from the blow purely by instincts, letting out a high pitched yelp while his hands raise upwards, brain suddenly put on alert and already thinking about what to do. 

The situation isn’t hard to comprehend: there are half a dozen skeletons, armed, slowly inching their way towards him; a handful are standing right in front of the only other existing exit, as if guarding it - probably commanded to do so, since from his own personal experience skeletons are rarely smart enough to “stand guard”. 

He is almost certain that there are no other paths he could have taken, so his only way is forward, hopefully towards something valuable. Of course that is, if he manages to get through. 

The first thing Fundy realises is that there are a bit too many enemies to comfortably take on. For a moment he truly considers simply dropping a fireball straight into the middle of the room - quick, easy, efficient - but a part of him knows that it would be a bit of a waste of energies for so little enemies, and he does expect to meet plenty more enemies very soon. Despite the fact that time is of the essence, he can’t help but remember how bets in favour of Wilbur’s team had skyrocketed after their stellar performance in the arena a handful of weeks prior. And well, a conman has to know how to put on a show, doesn’t he?

“Hello gentlemen! Would you be so kind to form an orderly cue in front of me?” He’s quick to step to the side, away from another incoming arrow from one of the two skeletons posted in front of his objective, but thankfully the rest of the skeletons are quick to follow his request as they stumble forward, moving towards him and brandishing their swords. 

One of them, apparently more eager than the others, launches themselves at him, their shortsword raised high and coming down in a swift swoop that crashes against a - hastily created - light purple magical barrier. Fundy tsks at the skeleton, shaking his head disapprovingly behind the hand he had to raise to form the arcane shield. With a quick look he assures himself of the optimal placement of his enemies, then he brings his hands together in front of him, rubbing his palms together quickly as if smearing something on them; an instant later he snaps the thumb and index finger of his right hand together, close to the wrist of his left hand: flames burst from his hands, catching fire as if he’d clicked together a flint and steel over warm coal, and he brings his wrists together, directing the stream of arcane fire towards the four skeletons still stumbling towards him.

With a flash of warm light and a chilling screech, the skeletons catch fire and burn, the necromantic binds keeping them whole snapping and breaking, charred bones falling to the ground in sad heaps.

The two skeletons still standing by the exit door let out a pitiful whine, arms clanking together as they nock their arrows - one falls to the ground a couple of feet ahead of him, the skeleton that shot it starting to look as frantic as an expressionless undead can, while the other manages to catch him off-guard and pierces his left shoulder, tearing a pained yelp and a curse from him. 

And well, with most of his enemies gone, he can now get his hands a bit dirtier, metaphorically speaking, as he unsheathes the rapier Niki had gifted to him more than five years before, keeping his unoccupied and still somewhat smouldering hand close to the blade. As his thumb runs over the cold metal, it catches fire, green flames licking at the hilt as he runs forward, impaling one of the two skeletons: flames burst from the blade, almost completely enveloping his enemy, the old and dry bones quickly catching fire as if they were matches. When he flicks his wrist, turning the blade on itself, there’s another burst of flames coming from the hilt itself as a bolt of emerald green fire flies towards the other skeleton, hitting their side. 

The only remaining skeleton raises their bow, trying to aim at him, but Fundy simply steps forward, into their personal space, hearing the arrow being let loose behind him and flying into a stone wall. 

He grins, knowing his fangs poking their way over his lips make him look more menacing, and sheaths his sword into the skeleton’s chest, cutting away the arcane ties keeping them from dying, fire burning around them both - he releases the excess arcane energy with another bolt of green fire that burns a circular charred mark into the wall to his left.

For a moment, it’s all silent around him as he takes a small relieved breath, ever so thankful of Niki’s insistence of getting him to train with his sword. 

Then, Tubbo’s voice rings in his hears, calling out a new portal he’d just found - a locked one, tinted red. 

Fundy gives a vocal confirmation of having received the message, then puts away his sword - flames dissipating on their own - and quickly makes his way towards the still closed door.

Plenty of things to do, enemies to kill, amulets to find. 

He can take a break when their time in the labyrinth runs out. 

[secret-engima]

Ever since you mentioned Ace and Nox meeting I literally cannot stop thinking about it because Ace would just. Be so confused about Nox existing. (Also I'm just seeing Tredd or Luche introducing Nox to Ace's cooking)

OHHHH OH YES THAT. I’ve been meaning to do something with that *rolls up sleeves* HERE WE GO THEN:

IN CANON, Noctis has something of a …. Talent for either stumbling into other dimensions of meeting them (the hiso hiso and the miqo’te lady side quests, as well as Dissidia NT if you wanna count that which I DO) and Ace has something of a penchant for running to trouble because honestly the Astrals need entertainment from somewhere and apparently they don’t get cable or streaming in that blue Void of theirs. So the way I see it- either Nox accidentally goes to Ace’s universe for a few days, or Ace accidentally goes to Nox’s for a few days.

Because I love both ideas, I shall do both. This is gonna get Very Long™ (edit: It’s almost 3k words WHAT IN THE WORLD ME-).

Option One: In Which Nox Really Needs To Watch His Step More and Axis and Fem!Nyx Get Dragged Into Things.

-It starts when Nox trips. Seriously. That’s how it starts. Nox trips and Something Happens in the split second his best friend and his girlfriend/wife grab his arms to steady him and then- they’re falling. Like- seriously falling. Falling from 10+ stories up kinda falling and Axis is cursing the entire time Nyx grabs Axis and warps to the relative safety of one rooftop, expecting Nox to do the same. He does, but he misjudges the threshold of Impact Resistance that the roof he lands on holds (that or the Astrals are laughing at him again). It breaks under him and he topples down in a crash of magic and debris onto a slightly cushy landing of broken crates (hey better than concrete or solid ice) and … glass?

-Why are his clothes soaked with what looks but does not smell or feel like blood?

-He is just pondering this quandary (is this whiskey? It smells like whiskey did he just crash through the roof of a bar?) when the door to the storeroom in which he’s landed slams open and in rushes a very unhappy looking Galahdian with a very large knife and braids in a style he doesn’t recognize. The Galahdian stares at him with wide, vaguely disbelieving eyes, Nox barely refrains from summoning a knife of his own (he’s not a threat, he’s a Galahdian twice-over now and Axis insists that means no Galahdian in their right mind will try to hurt him without due provocation).

-(He really hopes accidentally falling through the ceiling and ruining who knows how much whiskey/wine/whatever doesn’t count as due provocation.)

-Thankfully, all the stranger does is slowly sheath his knife and look both exasperated and amused, “Care to explain what just happened?” He says and something inside Nox … jolts.

-Nox swears he hears the low whispers of thunder and magic in the man’s voice, buried as it is under a veil of humanity and normalcy. But surely that’s his imagination.

-Nox pries himself free of the rubble and ruined alcohol, inwardly mourning his no-doubt ruined clothes (they’d been so comfy too) and the stranger looks sympathetic as Nox futilely tries to wring a bit of the alcohol out of his sleeves as he answers, “I have … honestly no idea.” Because weird as his life is, even he usually doesn’t take a step forward, trip and somehow go from inside the Citadel to somewhere in the … he’s going to assume he’s in the Galahdian district because this is a bar with a Galahdian worker (owner?). The last time he blinked and went from one place to somewhere drastically different had been-.

-Dissidia. The Hiso Hiso.

-Astrals please no.

-Nox looks up and can hear the slight beg in his voice as he says, “Please tell me I’m still in Insomnia during the reign of King Regis Lucis Caelum.”

-The stranger’s eyebrows go up almost to his hairline (which is a fair reaction to his question) but answers, “….Yes?”

-Oh good. Now to figure out if he was in his Insomnia or some kind of parallel dimension because at this point he’s not very optimistic on his odds.

-He opens his mouth to make his excuses and get out of there when the stranger cuts him off with a bemused, “Need a new shirt? You can borrow one of mine.”

-He blinks, narrows his eyes in instinctive suspicion, “Why would you help me?”

-“You’re a kid,” points out the amused man, “and a Galahdian.”

-Nox refrains from pointing out that he’s nineteen and technically married, because a new shirt sounds nice and this is the one day he didn’t pack a spare outfit in his armiger. The man takes him to a different room of the definitely-a-bar and produces a spare shirt (short-sleeved unfortunately but Nox will take what he can get) from somewhere, which Nox takes gratefully. His pants are still a mess, but at least he doesn’t smell so strongly of whiskey. He’s thanks the man (who introduces himself simply as Ace) profusely and offers to try to pay for the damages (not like he can’t afford it with a prince’s allowance). Ace turns him down with a shake of his head, reaches out to lightly touch Nox’s elbow (the man hasn’t commented on the scars the t-shirt reveals, Nox is grateful for that too).

-The moment they make contact, the world turns blue and violet. Nox can feel the other man’s magic, pulsing under his skin like the tooth-shaking rumble of thunder and the flicker of lightning in the far distance, taste the ozone on his tongue and feel the jungle rains Nyx speaks of so fondly. Ace’s magic feels like the jungle and the wilds and yet also like the soft snows that settle over a battlefield after the bodies have cooled and Nox’s gaze snaps around in astonishment. He can’t stop himself from reaching out with his own magic in greeting-curiosity-shock toward this- this other Lucis Caelum (sibling? Is he in his home dimension or another’s? Is this man his brother or someone who was never born in Nox’s world?).

-(To Ace, the teen he’s just touched suddenly seems to burn like a star barely captured in flesh, his eyes glow red and Ace can taste blood on his tongue, feel it drip down his chest from the gaping sword wound he knows isn’t there. He can feel the teen’s magic, like crushing ocean depths and the broken, too-deep hush of old ruins. He can feel ash caking his skin like being back in the rubble of his home village. In the back of his mind he recoils, because soul is magic and magic is soul and this teenager’s is a blood-stained, centuries old battlefield).

-They both stare at each other for what feels like too long and not enough before Ace jerks his hand away like he’s been burned (maybe he has, Nox’s magic is still too much for his skin sometimes, still lashes out when he’s too startled to stop it). Ace cradles his hand and curls his magic so tight into his soul Nox can barely feel it (wouldn’t feel it if he didn’t already know it was there). “Well,” Ace manages after several more seconds of mutual staring, “I wasn’t … expecting that.”

-Nox blinks twice, feels realization settle in his bones, “You don’t want anyone else to know.” He can feel it in the way Ace is hiding himself, see it in the wary glint of silver eyes. He understands perfectly. He hid from Regis too for as long as he could.

-Ace laughs a little breathlessly, “You don’t?”

-Nox isn’t given a chance to answer, because that’s right when Nyx and Axis finally figure out where he is and how to get there without jumping through the hole he left in the bar roof.

-He can hear Axis flinging open the door to the bar and Nox is instantly grateful that it’s empty of everyone but him and Ace because his Shield almost bellows through the empty building, “Nox. Izunia. Lucis. Caelum. Arra. Ulric.” Nox hunches his shoulders, hears Ace sputter beside him in confusion at the ridiculous number of last names Axis used.

-“In here, Axis.”

-Axis and Nyx poke their heads in the back and Ace’s sputtering gets louder, then quiets as Axis storms over and slaps Nox across the back of his head and snarls, “What did you just do?”

-“Fell through the roof of a bar and made a new friend,” Nox snarks back past the sting in the back of his head, “Axis, Nyx, this is Ace, Ace, this is my friend and my wife, Axis Arra and Nyx Ulric.”

-Ace definitely makes a strangled, confused noise, silver eyes wide before he takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, and announces, “I’m getting everyone a drink. Go sit at the bar.”

-Ten minutes later, the bar’s sign reads “closed”, Ace has gotten everyone drinks and served up some kind of Galahdian dish too spicy to be healthy (but one Nox loves anyway, this guy is a great cook), and they’ve all concluded that Nox straight up tripped into a parallel dimension and dragged Axis and Nyx along with him. Because Ace is certain that he knows Axis Arra and Nyx Ulric and they should know him (he also gives Nyx several looks that are a mix of horrified, confused, and extremely amused, which Nox doesn’t get at all).

-Apparently, Ace is the result of Regis and a Galahdian woman having a night, no, he has not told anyone else, and yes, he really would like that to stay a secret. Nox has no qualms with that, Axis just smacks Nox over the head again because parallel dimension and Nyx stares maybe too intently at Ace’s braids.

-Because apparently braid meanings and symbols are a bit different in this dimension. Or something. And it’s confusing Nyx to no end.

-“So,” Axis sighs finally once his temper has been settled, “what do we do now?”

-Nox shrugs, “Don’t get killed, don’t make trouble, and wait for either one of our Astrals to come fix it or for it to wear off on its own. These things never usually last long.”

-Axis, Nyx, and Ace all stare at him before Nyx sighs into her hands, “Nox. Babe. Love of my life. Tell me you did not just imply that this is a normal thing for you.”

-“Well- I wouldn’t say normal but….” Axis turns to look Ace straight in the eye, without a word, Ace passes over something much stronger than before. Nox feels vaguely insulted. He’s not that bad is he?

-It takes three days and one very annoyed Shiva (apparently the Astrals of this universe barring Ramuh are jerks?) for the “Trip” to wear off, during which Nox, Axis, and Nyx all lie low at Ace’s place. And by “laying low” what Nox really means is stay well away from the Citadel and any potential Dad Confusion and get gawked at by the various glaives that visit Ace’s bar. There’s no hiding that Axis is from another dimension, though Nox takes care not to go by Lucis Caelum or Izunia around them, just Ulric (which, of course, gets him stared at even more than being an LC, though not as much as his Nyx gets stared at, because Nyx is a guy here and apparently seeing a female Nyx is breaking everyone’s brain. The Libertus of this world just about has a heart attack when he comes in and sees two Nyx’s of opposite sexes staring each other down with trouble-making grins).

-(Nox was the only one who didn’t choke on his drink when his Nyx cheerfully announced to all and sundry that her counterpart was hot and clearly anyone would be lucky to land a date with him. Axis dryly pointed out that it still counted as narcissism if you complemented your counterpart, Nyx just laughed and flopped onto Nox’s legs like she was queen and he was her throne, which made the male Nyx stare and Ace crack up laughing).

-Eventually though, the Trip wears off and they find themselves back in the Citadel with an adventure to tell and a bunch of Very Panicked Adults who want to know how they disappeared for a week and why (and a list of names to check because Nyx might never have met an Ace in her childhood, but that didn’t mean one might not exist and Nox is nothing but thorough about his family).

Option Two: In Which Ace Has A Very Strange Week

-Ace has gotten used to the fact that life (the Astrals) like to mess with him. It’s just- it’s a thing. It’s a thing he hates but there it is.

-But he’s still not used to the entire world glitching out around him like a video game, tripping on air and then landing not in his apartment where he was standing five seconds ago but on the marble floors of-

-The Citadel.

-Great.

-Ace scrambles to his feet, hoping against hope he can sneak out before whatever trouble is coming next can find him, only to hear someone order him to hold still and explain his arrival, look up and see-

-Nyx?

-No wait. This was a woman. A woman who could have been Nyx’s twin, but a woman.

-W h a t ?

-The woman appears to be of similar opinion, eyeing him in confusion before glancing at the other person in the room, “Friend of yours, Nox?”

-Magic swells over him as Ace turns to look at the “Nox” person and he has maybe five seconds to register the inhumanly old gaze and the angry claws of magic sinking into his skin before his own magic reacts against his will, shoves outward in a flicker of violet and ghostly royal arms. It’s not, creepily enough, enough to shake off the foreign magic, but it is enough to startle the Lucis Caelum he doesn’t recognize into backing down. Red eyes turn blue and blink at him while Ace struggles not to swear a blue streak at revealing himself in the Citadel, then the strange Lucis Caelum says, “Oh. You’re not from around here. Let me guess, the world glitched out, or you tripped on thin air, or something happened and now you’re not where you were a few seconds ago?”

-Ace decides he both does and doesn’t want to know how this guy knows that and stiffly nods. The teen (Nox? He was pretty sure this guy’s name was Nox) nodded back, looking far to calm for the situation, and turns to the Nyx look-alike, “Come on then. He can slum at your place until we sort this out.”

-The woman raises her eyebrows in a miffed expression that Ace … knows (oh no. Oh no-no-no this better not be what he thinks this is, his life is not a sci-fi show and this better not be that one episode those kinds of stupid dramas always throw in-), “I’m sorry, when did we agree on that?”

-“The alternative is to stand here and get caught and then explain to my father that no, he doesn’t actually have yet another illegitimate son running around. What’s your preference?”

-They go to the woman’s apartment.

-It’s Nyx’s apartment.

-Same address and nicknacks and everything. Just … missing all traces of Selena or Ace himself. There’s only a few traces of Lib and some scattered objects that clearly represent someone, but Ace doesn’t know who (he has a nasty suspicion its the teen in charge of this escape, the one with long black hair and strong magic and several braids that look a lot like Arra and Ulric braids but … off somehow).

-In the safety of the apartment that is Nyx’s but not, Nox introduces himself, then introduces the woman as … Nyx Ulric.

-Ace maybe gets weird looks from them when he gives into the urge to swear. Because really? REALLY? This is his life now.

-Nox gives him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder and promises to have Shiva sort things out (then shrugs off the stares Nyx and Ace give him at the casual implication that he can boss around an Astral or three). Nyx shrugs and says Ace is free to take the couch, but only if he tells her stories about his world, once Nox and Ace convince her that yes Ace is from another world.

-Naturally, because fate hates Ace, the Libertus of this world walks in on them in the middle of their plotting. Libertus is even more skeptical about a “Lucis Caelum from another world” but Ace has pictures of him and Nyx and Lib and those plus his braids (which are similar but also not to the Galahdian braids they are used to) is enough to sway him.

-It takes a week for Nox and apparently the rest of this dimension’s Astrals to sort everything out (Nox comes back to the apartment at one point snarling about wanting to kick dragon tail and roast fish innards, Ace can relate), during which Libertus and Fem!Nyx alternate between tiptoeing around him and pestering for information (Nyx goes … very, very quiet when Ace asks about her Selena. Ace doesn’t ask again, and is grateful when Nyx lets herself be distracted with pictures of her counterpart)

-(“I’m hot,” she announces smugly, “Lib you owe me twenty gil.” To which Lib sputters, because apparently that bet had been made five years ago when drunk and could not be expected to be valid because really what are the chances of running into an alternate dimension Lucis Caelum that knows a male Nyx? Fem!Nyx gets her money anyway with a mischievous grin that makes Ace ache a little inside).

-Nox, who is far more entertaining to be around than Ace expected another Lucis Caelum to be, finally gets things sorted out and arranged for his return. Ace shows up at his proper apartment a week after tripping into another world and is instantly mobbed by a frantic Lib, Nyx, and Selena who do not believe him about parallel worlds until Ace whips out the photos and phone recordings he got.

-(“Huh,” Nyx breaches the silence after they’ve all seen the video other!Libertus took for him of Fem!Nyx and Nox kicking each other around a training ground, “I’m hot.” Ace laughs, Lib just groans and slaps Nyx on the back of the head because that’s not the issue here, Nyx.)

[annoyedfanfiction]

qui-gon x jedi!reader

“So I may have a slight problem.” You desperately jerked the ship to its side, spinning out of the way of some larger debris in Endor’s atmosphere. “I’ve lost the rear engines and I’m under pursuit. Going down on Endor.” The ship jolted as you entered a storm lower in the atmosphere. “The data chip is stored in an advanced pilot droid, RX-795, who was programmed to depart Takodana for Coruscant at 0300 hours standard time.” You pulled hard back on the controls as the holo ended, slowing your descent enough to gain some control of the crash. “Computer, wipe ship memory log.”

The holo ended, leaving the council chambers in silence. “Qui-Gon Jinn bring,” Yoda ordered, eventually, turning to the council Knight. “Immediately.” The Knight obediently darted out of the chambers. “Is that wise?” Koon inquired, quietly, leaning close so only the Grand Master could hear him. “Jinn and (L/N) have a history.” “Here, history helpful may be,” Yoda answered, serenely, as the doors opened once again and Qui-Gon was led through, his padawan at his heels. “Masters,” he greeted them, with a low bow. “To what do I owe the honour?” “Holo play,” Yoda ordered, and your image flickered back into view.

“Fuck,” you groaned, loudly, trying to dislodge your leg from the ship splintered around you. You could hear the droning of an approaching engine above you, and you managed to pull free and dive for cover as they started firing again. The remains of your ship crumbled in on itself, devoured by the fire-reductive implosion response, as your pursuers landed nearby. You began to move away through the undergrowth. “Ah, a little Ewok,” one of your pursuers sneered, darkly. “Ewok jerky for dinner, Kluna?” You stopped in your movements, turning to see the Mandalorian holding up a small Ewok, a juvenile male, as it screamed. “Only if you can make it as well as Inita, Frin,” his companion answered. Sighing deeply, you crept back towards them, unlit lightsaber steady in your hand. “You’re really going to kill a baby?” you asked, stepping out of your cover. Frin grinned, darkly, still holding the struggling Ewok by the scruff of its neck. “Well, we’ll kill you first,” he offered. Kluna raised her blaster. “Wow, I appreciate the offer,” you snapped, lunging behind a tree as Kluna began firing on you. “But I’d rather neither of us were killed, you know?” Darting forward, you swiped your ‘saber through Kluna’s blaster, splitting it open and leaving the front half to fall to the ground. Growling, the Takodanan woman snatched a second blaster from her belt, and you weren’t fast enough to dodge the first shot, which skimmed along your cheek. You hissed in pain, but darted forward to thrust your blade through her stomach, sending her choking to the ground, black blood spilling from her mouth. You grimaced, but ducked as Frin fired at you, throwing the Ewok aside and letting it scamper away into the jungle. Batting away his fire, you moved forward, but he didn’t back away as you reached him, withdrawing a songsteel blade. You countered his first strike and parried, but he matched you blow for blow, even as you pushed him backwards until he was pressed against his ship. You didn’t notice the fighter droid in the back of the ship until a blaster shot rang through your ribs, knocking you away from the Mandalorian. Your opponent grinned, raising his songsteel blade, but was immediately knocked back by the baby Ewok, shrieking loudly. Almost instantly, the clearing was filled with adult Ewoks. Small, but fast and armed to the teeth. You lunged forward, burying your lightsaber in the Mandalorian’s abdomen, below where the Ewok infant clung to his neck, scratching and snarling. The effort splintered the light behind your eyes, and you dropped to your knees, blackness glinting around you. 

“Retrieval mission this is,” Yoda stated, calmly. Qui-Gon’s composure had not flinched, but they could all see he was impatient to leave. “And if they are not on Endor?” he asked, hands still carefully folded within his sleeves. “Report back,” Windu answered, evenly, looking his old friend in the eye. “Two of you are no match for the Black Sun.” “Which does raise the question why (L/N) was sent alone,” Qui-Gon pointed out, simply, before bowing once again. “We will report back as soon as we find anything. Good evening, Masters.” He turned on his tail and walked out, leaving Obi-Wan and the Council staring blankly after him, before the Padawan mumbled an apology, bowed, and followed his Master out. “You probably shouldn’t have said that.” They could hear Obi-Wan saying, as the doors closed. “And they probably shouldn’t have sent one Master, no matter how capable, against the Black Sun syndicate, Padawan,” came Qui-Gon’s reply, unerringly calm. “If I have not yet taught you that the Council cannot always be correct, then I have failed in my duties as your Master.”

You were alone when you woke in the clearing. The sun was setting, and our enemy’s ship was largely intact in the more complex areas, although much of the outer plating had been removed and damaged by the Ewoks. You couldn’t complain too much, given that they’d saved you, so you simply set to the tedious work. The snapping sound of rope nearby was immediately followed by a loud shout in clipped Coruscanti basic. You pulled yourself to your feet, careful not to clatter against the metal plates scattered around you, and moved silently through the forest towards the sound. “I thought Ewoks didn’t use technology,” a familiar voice complained. “To be fair, our records are based on Ewok evolution two centuries ago,” another answered, amusement barely hidden in his voice. “It appears they have advanced to their stone age.” “Brilliant.” Obi-Wan’s voice was bitter. “Can you let me down now?” Ewok chirruping piped up as he spoke, and you reached them in time to see the Ewoks encircling the two Jedi. “Woah, woah,” you stepped out from behind the trees, standing between the Jedi and the Ewoks. “We are friends. Saved your young one.” “You speak Ewokese?” Qui-Gon asked. “We’re about to be murdered by sentient teddy bears,” Obi-Wan lamented from above. “Jeerota?” one of the Ewoks repeated. Another one, who you recognised from the clearing, stepped forward and said something you didn’t understand. Immediately, Obi-Wan came rushing down as one of the others cut his rope. Qui-Gon caught him with the force, and as quickly as they had come, the Ewoks disappeared into the jungle again.

“And just what are my two favourite Jedi doing on Endor?” You helped Obi-Wan to his feet after Qui-Gon lowered him to the ground. “Looking for you,” Obi-Wan replied, dusting himself off. “You’re bleeding,” Qui-Gon commented as he examined you, eyes settling on the dark wound in your side. “I ran across a few complications,” you explained, trying for levity. “Saved an Ewok, got saved by an Ewok, got shot, crashed my ship, fun times.” “I’m sure.” Qui-Gon’s voice was dry as he offered you his arm. You took it, gratefully, leaning against him. “The ship isn’t far,” Obi-Wan promised, though you could feel the worry radiating off him. You tried to smile at him, but darkness was gathering behind your eyes again. Qui-Gon’s presence, as always, emanated warmth and peace, even as fear stirred in his blue eyes. “(Y/N), you need to stay awake.” His voice was gentle, but commanding, and you forced your eyes open, not protesting as he took the rest of your weight up into his arms. “Obi-Wan, get the ship running.” Obi-Wan nodded, and started off ahead, careful of nearby traps.

“Why did I ever become a fucking Jedi?” you mumbled, blinking away black spots in your vision. Qui-Gon chuckled, looking inquisitively down at you. “Somehow, I suspect you’d get yourself in equal amounts of trouble with or without the Council, (Y/N),” he pointed out, hastening his step. The ship came into view as you laughed, quietly. “Probably true.” He laid you gently on a cot in the ship, reaching for a medical kit. You grabbed his wrist when he turned back to you, and smiled up at him, blearily. “But without the Council I’d be allowed to be in love with you.” Your eyes widened as a sharp burst of pain shattered through your chest, knocking you awake. Tears trembled in your eyes as you managed to pull yourself into a sitting position, leaning forward to Qui-Gon. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” You pushed back away from him, folding in on yourself, ignoring the tugging of pain in your side, even as he spoke to soothe you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I’m so sorry.” “Hey, hey!” He took your hands, breaking through your panic and forcing you to look up at him. “You need to stop moving and breathe, alright? You’re going to hurt yourself.” He carefully moved closer, helping you unfold yourself from the position you’d tangled yourself into and gently laying you back down. “Now, I’m going to try and stop this bleeding, and we’re going to get back to Coruscant. I need you to stay calm for me, okay? We can talk about this when you’re better.” You nodded, mutely, releasing his hands as he moved to tend your wound again. “Good, alright, now this is going to sting.”

Vague irritation flooded you as you woke, the even, repetitive beeping of a monitor beside you unsurprising but still brilliantly annoying. You quickly became aware of a warm hand pressed into yours – large and calloused, as yours was, by the years of wielding a lightsaber. His Force presence radiated Qui-Gon’s familiar calm, but you were aware of another voice as well. “The Council does not see the Living Force the way you do, Qui-Gon.” Windu’s tone was exasperated, but fond, a deep undercurrent of worry stirring beneath it. “I have known that for many years, old friend.” Qui-Gon always had been stubborn. “They will see a risk to the Dark Side,” Windu pointed out. “I would expect that opinion of me,” Qui-Gon answered, evenly. “But can you honestly tell me anyone would believe that of (Y/N)?” Mace was silent for a moment. “No one is above the Code, Qui-Gon,” he stated, eventually. “Darkness does not rule in either of you, but the Council has always ruled by the Code.” “I have known that for many years also.” You opened your eyes to see the wry smile he offered Mace. “And I have never approved. If this is the final straw for the Council, then I will leave this Order with pride.” “And (Y/N)?” Mace demanded, harshly. “You would drag them down with you?” “I would go willingly,” you interrupted, struggling to pull yourself into a sitting position. You smiled at Mace. “It’s been a while, old friend.” “Too long,” he answered, though there was sadness behind his smile. “I will leave you to recover.” He turned to the door, and paused. “Oh, and (Y/N)? Don’t ever let him forget that you are way out of his league.” The doors swished closed behind him.

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Three

Written by: M

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the third chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~ Chapter 3 ~~

As a child, my father used to set me in front of him on his horse. Astride with my skirts flapping in the breeze like a bird’s wings as we rode across the farm. When my mother complained of his habit of treating me like a son, Papa found a pair of breeches that would fit me to wear when we rode or moved about the farm, seeing to the needs of the land and our people. One day when he felt I was old enough, he took me into the woods, teaching me to hunt. It wasn’t a skill that I necessarily needed. We were wealthy enough to hire someone else to hunt meat for us, but my father insisted that I learn where everything we relied on to survive originated. He wanted me to have an understanding and a respect for all living beings, a humility found in the knowledge that in taking a life to sustain our bodies, we owed the earth a debt to care for her soil as she has cared for us.

Perhaps he intended it, perhaps not, but the lesson he taught me that now burns in my mind is that nothing comes from nowhere. I cannot sit in my damask chair and expect the world to care for me or to see to my needs, nor to those of the people depending on me. I must take care of that myself. Food does not appear on the table simply because I feel hunger.

“Are we going to stare at it or dare we go in?” Madge asks with a soft teasing lilt and I thrust myself from the carriage and towards the gaudy city dwelling I am now faced with, ignoring the outstretched gloved hand offering assistance. I am used to hunting in the quiet of the woods, in isolation surrounded by nature. Not in this stone and smoke urban jungle. I march boldly up the stairs and prepare to knock. Uncle Haymitch reaches my side then and pulls my lifted fist away from the door.

“This is not the country, and Effie would never forgive me if you knocked on the door for your first dinner party.” I glance over my shoulder at Effie as she fusses over Madge.

“Do I stand here and sing for entrance then?”

“No,” Haymitch says with a deep chuckle. “I do the knocking. You do the hunting.”

The first step of hunting is to stalk your prey, which requires silence and observation. We are welcomed and ushered into a parlor where we are handed a small glass of something that fizzes and makes my head spin a little. We already know the hostess, having spent at least a week squandering our time in teas and salons and parlors meeting every woman of Aunt Effie’s acquaintance and many who were not until recently.

“Darlings!” Effia had greeted us when arrived at her and Haymitch’s town home, before I could even knock on the door. Clearly I was unaware of this societal rule forbidding me to knock. At the time, Effie’s embrace had been welcome if a touch effusive. After several days of travel, all Madge and I wanted was a nice bath and a good nap. It wasn’t to be. “You came to your uncle and I for assistance in finding a husband and that is precisely what we shall be doing. He can provide introductions to gentleman, I can provide a thousand other things. A foot in the door through the ladies, a fabulous wardrobe. Alicia! Send word to Cinna that we shall need an appointment post haste! And Margaret, my dear… We’ll have Cinna whip up a few dresses for you as well. I won’t hear any arguments! Mourning is no excuse for a countess to dress…” Her eyes dragged over Madge’s plain grey woolen travel habit and she shuddered. “So…so…”

“Drab?” Uncle Haymitch had suggested and then protested as Madge and I both imposed upon him for embraces. He pretended to be annoyed, but I know him better. He was happy to see us both.

That began our week of parlor visits and stiff high collared tea dresses while I waited to be unleashed on the real marriage market. A steady stream of women with their daughters or nieces and even a handful of ladies came to call, drawn by the rumors of a heretofore unheard of eligible young woman and her widowed friend. I’ve learned all about the eligible sons of these women and have yet to see a single one of them.

Father always did say that before laying a snare, one needed to know what sort of beast you planned to trap. A snare meant for a rabbit would never hold a wild boar. This is what I tell myself every time I balk at the guidance or instructions Aunt Effie doles out to me. While I attempted to follow Effie’s example and instructions that first week, I did not care for how much time I spent seated in her parlor, sipping tea and hearing the same gossip on endless loop, answering the same questions about who my parents are and how long I plan to stay in town. I have a husband to shop for and do not appreciate being restricted to the parlor. Everyone knows that one cannot hunt from inside the parlor. You might spill blood on the carpets and then Aunt Effie would die of apoplexy.

I also do not appreciate meeting the mothers, and sisters, and widowed aunts, and fourth cousins twice removed of every potential suitor on Haymitch’s list in addition to a few who are not on his list, but not the suitors themselves.

“How can I select a husband if I never meet any men?” I had asked an exasperated Aunt Effie as I stood still for her dressmaker, a lovely woman named Cinna who worked quietly and seemed to see things in my face that I didn’t know existed.

“Good bone structure. Lovely eyes and hair…you carry yourself with regal bearing and strength. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken you for a duchess. My dear we shall be showcasing your spirit,” she murmured as she circled me and examined my body and face.

I still have no idea what she meant by that. While Effie’s wardrobe with it’s excess of ruffles and shimmering fabrics leaves me in physical pain sometimes, the day dresses and dinner dresses Cinna has already managed to finish for me are quite lovely. Still, I see no real show of spirit in their delicate folds. I haven’t worn breeches in years – at my mother’s insistence after the vicar’s son wrote a rather explicit poem for me shortly after I turned fifteen – and dresses like these do not make me miss it, yet I still worry about the ball gowns that will expose my shoulders and back to the world. Perhaps a shawl would work to cover my scars and it might become my signature accessory. I don’t have much time to devote to such thoughts, however. There are still a few days before we have a fitting in our ball gowns. I also have a farm to protect and a husband to ensnare.

“We are spreading the word, darling,” Effie insisted about all our parlor visits and teas. “You cannot meet a suitable husband without a proper introduction.”

Unlike the woods, I cannot simply saunter into a ballroom, select a groom, and drag him to the altar. This type of hunt requires more finesse, I am told several times a day. Which is where Madge enters the picture apparently, because I lack finesse on my own, although I would argue that stalking prey in the woods requires a certain level of finesse. What good is hunting if you announce to your prey that they are your target? None.

“Euphegenia, so glad you could join us tonight. And I see you’ve brought your lovely niece and her friend. I don’t believe you’ve met my nephew. Mr. Cato Baxter. Cato, darling, this is Miss Katniss Everdeen of Southeast Panem and her dear friend, recently widowed the Countess Hargrove, Lady Margaret Charmaigne.”

The introductions and small talk continue as guests arrive and while Effie insists there will be several eligible bachelors in attendance tonight, I find myself restless and disappointed with the offerings. Mr. Baxter seems arrogant, although he supposedly fits the requirements on my list. Mr. Marvel annoys me within seconds of conversation.

“Green does not fare well with your complexion. Perhaps you should wear more of a rosy shade, Miss Everdeen,” he says with what I imagine he thinks is a helpful smile.

“How unfortunate that my favorite color does not fare well with my complexion,” I say with a tight smile in return. “At least in your esteemed opinion. I however find men wearing burgundy to be quite ostentatious.” Madge coughs quietly at that and Effie hisses to me to watch my tone. Altogether, the dinner party turns out unremarkable.

It’s the same all week. The guests vary little and I start to wonder if perhaps this task of mine will not be so simple. Everyone who seemed so kind over tea in Effie’s parlors now seems amused by the comments their relations – all supposed gentlemen. Comments on my dress, my lack of style, my brash tones, my outspoken demeanor, or even my age.

I begin to miss my home. I miss my father even more, although Prim reports no change in his health.

“A walk in the gardens,” Madge insists one day after another string of fruitless parlor visits. Mr. Thresh Jermaine appears interested in courting me, and he seems pleasant enough if a little quiet. He radiates force and intimidation, the sort of person whose will becomes law, and yet there is a gentleness about him whenever his young cousin, Miss Rue Beauchamp is about. And yet, something about him keeps me from pursuing more than a cursory acquaintance. I feel as though we might be good friends and not work as a couple.

Madge leads me outside to the gardens as I smile gratefully at her.

“I shall need to marry a prince simply to pay for the dresses.” Several more arrived earlier today and tomorrow we have an appointment for a first fitting with our ball gowns, for an upcoming masquerade party.

“They didn’t cost as much as all that,” Madge says softly. “Besides, the surest way to scare off prospective grooms is with the rumor that you’re seeking a fortune. And the best way to allay that rumor is with dresses that shout to your financial well being.”

“But I am seeking a fortune,” I remind her.

“Better he not know that.”

“Is that not dishonest?”

“Perhaps a little,” Madge concedes. “But what recourse do we have?”

I suppose in a way, she is right. We talk of Maysilee for nearly the entire time we walk. I can see the struggle in my friend’s eyes, the battle waging in her heart. She wishes more than anything to be at home with her child. While I have no claim of motherhood over my sister, I understand the fear I sometimes see in her eyes, at least a little. The fear of responsibility and the effects of absence. I worry about Prim at home with our absent minded and preoccupied mother. At least Prim has Maysilee and Sae to keep her company. I fear I am little comfort to Madge. It does her good to speak of her daughter, though, I think. Even more good when a letter arrives from Prim, detailing their adventures.

We are going to be the best of friends, Maysilee and I, when you return. Take care of Katniss for me and be sure she does not land herself into too much trouble.

Prim wrote in her last letter, making Madge smile and relax at least for half a day.

My letters from home come from Prim but mostly from our steward, Thom. He can manage most issues, but I still cautioned Prim to write me of any emergencies that might require me to return early. I did not need to say it, but she understood that I spoke of Father.

“We shall be fine,” Prim assured me with a smile as we left. “We shall see you when you succeed. You are the best huntress in Southeast Panem. Who would think that one day you would use that skill to catch a husband?”

I laughed at the time, but the hunt grows long and I grow impatient.

“You are hoping to find him, are you not?”

“Who?” I ask and Madge shakes her head.

“Your Peeta Mellark. He has piqued your interest.”

“I just wonder why Haymitch did not include him on the list of potential suitors. He was dressed in wealth, which is my top requirement. Mother indicated that his father is a marquis so his bloodline is respectable. He claimed to have been in the military which means he’s likely a second or later son, not in line for the title.”

Madge hums and bends over to sniff a sprouting bloom. “Perhaps another reason then. His father may not be generous enough to settle money on him. He was in the military after all, and you did say you would not consider gamblers, womanizers, rakes, invalids, or reprobates. Perhaps he has a reputation.”

I did say that, and I did call him a brute. The gift of the shoes confused me after his abrupt treatment of me in the mud, however, tardy or not, it was appreciated. He remembered the destruction caused in his haste and thought to correct a slight. Kindness such as that has always intrigued me. And I suppose in a way, I am hoping for a friendly familiar face at some of these social functions, even if it is a face I cannot stand to see again since it is linked to my humiliation. How can I face him in a drawing room let alone a crowded ballroom when he has seen me at my worst and his hands have ventured up my skirts before we knew one another’s full names? I am certain to blush horribly and give away my thoughts. That won’t do.

“Nor anyone who wishes to add to his land holdings through matrimony. Or perhaps Haymitch determined that I am not even suitable for a second son of a Marquis,” I add. I come with little to no dowry and none of the holdings variety. I am…disfigured in a way that would likely offend a high born gentleman, although I say that makes him a prat. Before Madge can refute me, I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. “It is best then that I not find him again. ‘Twould be embarrassing to relive the circumstances of our first meeting.”

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

A month and still no luck in the husband hunt. I’ve opened my mouth one too many times and the number of potential suitors has dwindled drastically. Mr. Cato Baxter in all his glorious arrogance is the only one still visiting or bringing flowers. Awful roses grown in a hot house and stinking of an overpowering perfume. They are lovely to look at, and yet as soon as I get close to touching them, their scent makes me wish to claw out my nostrils.

Effie insists that my luck will turn with our first ball next week, but I am not so sure.

“I’ve never been away from her overnight, let alone for this long,” Madge says as we sit at the table for dinner. We are rarely placed next to one another, a tactic meant to encourage socializing with new acquaintances. However a few of the guests tonight appear to have not shown and the hostess shuffled the seating arrangement to avoid large empty spaces at her table.

“Prim and Sae are taking good care of her,” I assure my friend.

“I know,” she whispers and then faces me with sadness in her eyes. “Would you think me insane if I told you it is myself that I fear for more during this separation?”

I shake my head in confusion and Madge wrings a napkin in her hands.

“It is a fear that…she will be just fine without me. What then do I mean to her life if she barely misses me? It is selfish, I know, but for the past five years no one has loved me or needed me save for Maysilee. From the moment she opened her eyes, I knew that she loved me as I love her.”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” I ask. “You love her and she returns that love naturally. You’ve already taught her to love. She misses you, Madge. Perhaps it will not cripple her, but I think you don’t want that either.”

“Of course not! I suppose in a way, I am also afraid that I don’t know who I am without her anymore. Ever since she was born, every choice that I made was for Maysilee.”

“Well,” I suggest with a cheeky smile. “Now you can mother me. You are one of my chaperones, after all, Countess.” And tonight, she is acting without Haymitch and Effie. My aunt and uncle had a prior engagement and were unable to join us this evening.

Madge groans at her title but a rosy blush stains her cheeks as she smiles. We both know that her title demands a certain level of respect and affords us a kind of protection during this venture. We’ve already seen it’s effects. Doors opened and invitations issued that might not ever be extended to simply Miss Katniss Everdeen.

Not to mention several gentlemen have noticed Madge’s sunny charms over my surly demeanor. It may only be a matter of time before she is wed again, this time perhaps happily so. Once her time of mourning has passed, of course.

The dinner is more enjoyable with Madge at my side, although the seat to my left remains empty. It is the first evening in a long time that I have not had to smile for a man and feign interest in his prattle while already marking him off the list of potential suitors.

“Apologies! Lady Roth, please, accept my apologies for my tardiness,” a male voice proclaims as a man hurries into the dining room, interrupting all conversation.

“Of course! Robert, my dear I am simply glad that you could make it after all. We were a few short on gentlemen this evening.” Lady Roth stands to greet the new arrival.

“You are too kind, cousin. I heard that quail was on the menu and cancelled all other engagements! Your cook’s quail demands my attention,” he declares as he enters my field of view and I nearly choke. Madge elbows me and I turn my head to whisper to her.

“He looks just like him!”

“Who?”

“I don’t believe you know all of our guests, Robert. Please. These charming ladies here.” Lady Roth rattles off Madge’s name and mine as he smiles down at me and I’m a little stunned at how handsome he is when he’s not soaking wet or showing the fatigue of travel. I have to remind myself that this is not the same man who plucked me from the mud. The word brother rings in my head for surely there’s no other explanation and I am certain it is confirmed when Lady Roth finally reaches the point of giving us his name. “My dears this is Sir Robert Mellark. Third son of the Marquis de Vale.”

Madge now coughs at the name, although we both manage to nod at him in greeting. Sir Robert snatches my hand off the table and bows low over it with a charming smile.

“Enchanted. Miss Everdeen.”

“Robert we’ve already rearranged the seats but there is a vacancy next to Miss Everdeen if that is agreeable.”

“More than agreeable,” he says, eyes never leaving mine as my cheeks heat and my heart seems to have grown wings in my chest, beating wildly against its flesh and bone cage.

Warnings ring in my head at his smooth flattery, but I silence them within seconds of him sweeping his chair back and sitting next to me.

Sir Robert speeds through the necessary pleasantries with breathtaking speed, which I appreciate as I am tired of repeating them on end, and he soon has both Madge and I laughing at his tales of searching for the perfect plums at market that morning. It seems so strange. The son of a Marquis searching for his own plums, but the way he speaks to everyone at the table, I form the impression that he wears his nobility carelessly, as though it were merely a speck of dust and not something that defines him.

“They were an excellent fruit and I wish I had some to share with the party,” he says and Madge smiles before turning to speak to someone across the table from her. My attention, however is drawn to Sir Robert, leaning in close to me and speaking softly, so that only I can hear. “Have you had the joy of sinking your teeth into an especially tart plum recently, Miss Everdeen?”

I am not sure what sort of innuendo the man intends, but his voice caresses and teases. And then I’m not thinking of Sir Robert’s plums but of Peeta’s hands on my ankles. A thrill slithers up my thigh and I draw my ankles close together, as though someone might see beneath the table and my skirts and somehow guess at my thoughts. A sinner’s touch, a sinner’s voice. Yes I am almost certain they must be brothers.

“Not lately, although you shall be the first to learn if I do,” I say and am rewarded with a dazzling smile. I wonder if my mother felt so bewitched by my father and turn to focus on my soup after that.

After dinner, the ladies gather in the drawing room while the gentlemen abscond to the study with Lord Roth.

“That isn’t him, is it?” Madge hisses as we sit down to play cards.

“No,” I whisper back. “Brothers perhaps. Though the features are almost identical.”

“Then your Peeta is quite handsome.”

“He is not my Peeta,” I hiss. Madge nods and we continue on, although I notice a gleam in her eyes. It’s not until the men rejoin us and Sir Robert occupies a vacant seat at the card table that I discover what mischief she has planned.

“Sir Robert, I believe my dear friend has already had the pleasure of meeting your brother,” Madge says with a bright smile. I for one, do not appreciate the direction of the conversation. I told her I did not wish to relive my humiliation in the mud. I only wound up there through a series of unwise decisions, after all. And I cannot seem to stop thinking about it while I would rather forget the entire thing.

“Oh? Which brother? There are several of us, I am afraid.” He says with a slight laugh that draws attention to our conversation.

“He gave his name as Peeta,” I explain since I’ve little choice. Madge has dragged me into this fiasco and I cannot be rude. Effie reminds me almost daily that my lack of polished manners drove away Mr. Marvel and Mr. Thresh Jermaine as suitors for my hand. I argue that they were not truly interested.

“Ah so you met my twin.”

“Twin?” Madge asks with real curiosity in her voice. Our fourth at the table, a Miss Davenport, snorts indelicately at this.

“Can you really call him that, Sir Robert?”

“We share a father, were born on the same day, any number of people confuse us for one another–”

“Yes but I don’t believe this is a proper conversation for polite company.”

“Miss Davenport is scandalized. I apologize Countess. Miss Everdeen.”

I am about to ask him why his speaking of his brother would be considered improper when something in what he said seems to click into place, like a tumbler in a lock. I share a look with Madge, her eyes wide as she purses her lips and shakes her head slightly. Before I can confirm, Sir Robert deftly moves the conversation to the masquerade ball the Duchess of Cashmere will be throwing in a little over a week. It is all that anyone can speak of these days.

“Will you be in attendance, Miss Everdeen?” Sir Robert asks quietly. “At the masquerade?”

“I believe we planned on it,” I tell him and he smiles.

“I am glad to hear it.”

He moves on from the card games after that, leaving me with a hundred questions and a fluttering pulse. The fluttering thankfully only lasts a moment or two and I am able to enjoy the fresh night air on the drive home. A rain cleared the sky this afternoon and now the scents of early summer abound. I miss my home. The thought causes me to withdraw further into my own musings.

“So then. Sir Robert is a cheeky flirt and the mysterious Peeta is an illegitimate son,” Madge says as we prepare for bed that night. They share a birth date and a father, Sir Robert had said, implying that they do not share a mother. “Perhaps that is why Haymitch kept him off the list?”

I say nothing, still too lost in the quagmire of my thoughts to formulate an intelligent response.

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

Sir Robert visits for tea. He sends flowers and asks for a dance at my first ball of the season. The Duchess of Cashmere’s masquerade. Aunt Effie is thrilled.

“I told Haymitch he should expand the list a little higher. After all, a third son–”

“Does not usually stand to inherit a thing,” Haymitch reminds her.

“Yes except everyone knows the Marquis has settled a healthy income on all his sons and lands of some sort on most of them. And why shouldn’t he? The man can afford it.” Haymitch opens his mouth to argue and Effie snaps open a fan, fluttering it madly in front of her face. Madge speaks up to avoid the fight brewing.

“What of a fourth son?” I glare at her.

“There is no fourth son,” Effie says with a click of her tongue that closes the conversation and answers the question of why Peeta was left off the list. Or perhaps I am wrong. Haymitch’s mood takes a turn for the worse and I wonder at it. He is my mother’s half brother after all. He must know of her history with the Marquis. Perhaps there are more sinister secrets lurking in that family beyond a slightly ruthless nature and a bastard son.

I avoid the parlor that afternoon in favor of walking in the garden behind the house. What I truly wish to do is ride Sagittaria, but Haymitch insists riding in the park is not something unmarried ladies do alone and he no longer rides. That is surely why I accept Mr. Baxter’s invitation to ride in the park, despite how much his pompous demeanor annoys me.

[nhcimaginesgbr]

playground | rb

You and Reece took your four year old daughter, Maisey to the local park to play one sunny afternoon. As you were expecting another baby very very soon, you were unable to chase after her like you usually would. You opened the gate to the playground and maisey immediately took off running. “Daddy race me!” She shouted.

“Not so fast!” Reece ran after her towards the monkey bars. You went over and sat on the bench off to the side, placing a hand on top of your stomach. You saw Reece catch up to her and snatch her off of the ground, carrying her over his shoulder. “Swings?” He asked her.

“Yay!” She cheered. Reece went to place her in a baby one but she kicked her legs and screamed. “No! I’m not a baby! I go on the big girl swing now!”

“Alright.” He looked over at you warily.

“She’s fine.” You agreed.

“There we go.” He placed her on the big swing. “How you gotta hold on tight.” He pulled it back and let it swing forward. She was content for a little while.

“Mummy look at me!”

“I see you, love!” You laughed.

“I’m done.” She decided. Reece stopped the swing and she jumped off. She ran to the jungle gym and climbed to the top. “Mummy! Mummy help me!”

“What’s wrong, Mais?” You walked over.

“I don’t wanna go down the slide.” She burst into tears. “It’s too high.”

“It’s alright, love. It’s just like the little one you always slide down. Just a little higher up.”

“Mummy I can’t.” She held her arms out for you to carry her.

“I can’t carry you right now, Maisey. I have the baby.” You pointed to your stomach.

“No!” She sobbed.

“What’s wrong, Maisey?” Reece walked over.

“It’s too high...” She cried.

“I thought you were a big girl now.” He joked, but his smile fell when she started crying harder.

“I am a big girl! Im just scared!”

“It’s alright. Just sit over there and slide down.” Reece told her.

“No! It’s too high!” She shook her head rapidly.

“Look I’m waiting right here.” Reece waited at the bottom of the slide with his arms out.

“No!”

“Want me to catch you from here?” He walked over to the edge. She backed away and shook her head. “What do you want me to do, love?”

“I want mummy to go down with me.” She pouted.

“Mummy can’t go on the slide today.” Reece told her. “But I can go with you.” He offered. She nodded. Reece quickly climbed up to the top and sat down in front of the slide. “Come sit on my lap. We’ll go together.” He held his arms out. Maisey hesitantly sat on his legs and he wrapped his arms around her. “Look I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere without me now. Shall we go down the slide now?” He said softly. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Look at me.” He said. She turned her head to look back at him. He wiped her tears away and kissed her cheek. “Ready?” He said, tickling her sides. She giggled. “Let’s go down on the count of three okay? One... two... three!” He slid down the slide and rested his feet on the ground to stand up. Maisey sat on his hip as he carried her away from the slide. “How was that?” Reece grinned.

“Again!” Maisey shouted.

“Okay one last time then we go home.” He set her on the ground.

“No im going by myself!” She pushed him away as he tried to follow her. He held his hands up in defense, laughing.

“Okay I’ll be over with mummy watching.” He walked over and sat next to you on the bench. He placed his hand on your knee. “How are you two doing?”

“Good. I filmed that whole thing.” You laughed.

“Oh thank god! She’s so adorable.” He kissed you. “I can’t wait for this little one to be here.” He looked st your stomach.

“Me too. Mainly because my feet are killing me from walking all the way here.” You sighed.

“Once we put Maisey to bed I’ll run you a bath so you can relax.” He smiled.

“Reece you’re honestly the best.” You said gratefully.

“It’s the least I can do. You’ve had a busy day.”

“Mummy look!” Maisey shouted from the slide.

“I’m watching, baby!” You shouted back. She slid down and ran over to you, wrapping her arms around Reece.

“Daddy did you see?” She grinned.

“Yes I saw! I’m so proud of you!” He lifted her onto his lap. “Isn’t the bigger slide fun?”

“Yeah I went all by myself!”

“We saw! Why don’t we go home now, Mais? It’s getting late.” You stood up.

The three of you walked back home and Reece fulfilled his promises.

[thepageofa1000worlds]

Pairing: James Conrad x reader Part 1 · Part 2  · Part 3 · Part 4 · Part 5 · Part 6 ·

Synopsis: After having left thing uncompleted and unresolved with James Conrad 3 years ago, you two find yourself again in the kong island. What happened three years ago with you two? How is it that you got to make part of an expeditionary mission?

Song: Ólafur Arnalds- So Far

Warnings: it’s a six part mini-series, this is part to and also its a slow burn.

A/N:  btw viktor ( in the gift the one in light blue) is a mood if I were ever stranded on an island.

Words:  3338

   “ What about your helicopter? “ Asked Brooks, you sighted.

   “ Scatter in pieces along the island “

   “ Have you found anyone else?” Questioned Slivko next.

   “ Only you six, although my coms did picked someone else, but the battery died before I could ask who”

   “It is best if we keep moving” interrupted James. “ We are out in the open and we’re running out of daylight”

    He was right as always, the more terrain you all walked in daylight was better and just as you expected he took the lead.

Seeing him made you remember when both of you used to walk around your father’s property while hiding your brother Christmas gifts.

   “ So you didn’t catch who it was on the other side of the radio? “ Asked Slivko at your side.

   “ For all, I know it could’ve been you,” You said sadly. He sighed.

   You were glad that walking wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, because even if the group had organized itself to match your steps, they were still walking pretty fast.

You were right behind James who after analyzing your wound came to the conclusion that you wouldn’t be able to shot a weapon the size that he had, so instead, you showed him your gun which agreed that it was better than nothing.

   Being the only one in the entire group that was wounded noticeably, it was better to keep you in the middle where if anything were to happened people could aid you.

   Conrad couldn’t avoid looking occasionally behind him to know that you were right there, the times you catch him you would smile sweetly and he would once again look ahead.  

   You were looking at the floor to avoid tripping over branches when you felt him stop suddenly, stopping right before crashing with him. Looking around you understood why he had stopped, this part of the jungle lead to something else. James right arm found your waist, making you stay behind his much bigger frame. You didn’t minded, as he had a bigger gun. He slowly moved to examine the place and you followed close by.

   You were looking at Mason taking the photograph when her sudden gasp made you look directly to the wall, instantly backing away, movement from behind you made you turn sharply. Seeing those people make the air leave your lungs and you could fell you body popping adrenaline ready to fight.

   “ Conrad” you heard Mason said.

   “ Stay calm” advice him while raising his gun.

   Many of the people in the group had too, all of them raising their guns and making the circle smaller until you could feel all their backs.

   “ Guys” you murmured, but to no effect

   Mason was now close to you in the middle of the circle that the group had formed. She was the only one that gratefully moved a little not to hurt you. Taking your gun you pointed it to the small space in which Mason was, as she didn’t have a gun herself. The pain that shot through your left arm while raising it reminded you of the wound on your arm.

   “ Don’t shot” keep repeating James.

   “ Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said someone from the entrance of the strange place. Moments later a man with a long beard and an old military uniform appeared. You exchanged worried looks with Mason through his entire presentation. Hank Marlow, he presented himself, he had been on the island for 28 years, literally your life span. However, the most amazing thing was James’ face as the man was explaining how he had landed in there.

   “ You don’t want to be out here at night,” said Marlow.

   “ Nether at day,” You said while following, the chuckle that came from James made you look at him strangely.

   “ What?” He asked

   “ You just chuckled,” You said plainly.

   “ Not even in a life or death situation you lose your sense of humour,” he said while offering you a side smile, then his face went back to its original — not so smiley— position. “ Your bleeding”

   You examine your bandages and found an even bigger blood spot. You sighed.

   “ Tell me something I don’t know”

   After finding out that kong wasn’t the biggest nor the scariest monster out there, the idea of there being a way out of the island was like a dream come true, until Conrad was presented with the grey fox.

   “ Lovely,” he said with on an elevated level of sarcasm.

   “ Damn right,” said Hank at his side.

   Conrad could hear your not so silent laughter at his side.

   “ Those this thing even floats?”  Asked Slivko at your side, you were still laughing.

   You kneeled down between Slivko and Conrad, enjoying the story of how Hank and his friend had built the boat out of airplane parts.

   “ you’ve gotta be kidding me, this thing looks like its made out of tetanus”

   Conrad could hear you laughing, which made him smile too. He had forgotten, how you laughed and the level of sarcasm you handled; He found himself remembering what it was to be with you. How it would be late at night when both of you were near the fireplace, always talking about anything and everything that came. How you two had fallen asleep, you in the sofa and him on the floor near it, while waiting for your brother who swore would not take to long to arrive.

   He remembered how Dave had arrived in the morning and try to make both of you move to your rooms, for you to only pull the covers over your head. From the floor, Conrad looked at your form on the edge of the sofa and could only think of how adorable you looked.

   After accepting to work on the grey fox he at least got his hopes up on getting off the island.

   “ Ok, so we got 48 hrs. To make it to the North shore” He said while looking at Slivko who was meddling with some cables. “ Are you sure you know what you doing?”

   “ If I don’t fix this, he’ll disown me,” Said him referring to his dad.

   Hearing Conrad explain the Cold War to hank, was one of the most amazing things in the world. He was by no means a teacher nor a historian.

   “ Hold the phone there Churchill, Russia was our ally now you're saying we’re at war with them? “

   “ It more of a cold war “ Replied James.

   “ Like they take the summers off? “ You were at Hanks side and looking at the confusion and disbelieve on James’ face, you cursed that Mason was away with the camera. His eyes locked with yours as if asking if this man was serious.

   “ Oh my lord” you expressed still looking at him. A smile spread on your face while trying not burst out laughing once again, as you learned that laughing too much made the wound sting.

It had stopped bleeding but you now had to make sure that it wasn’t infected and that meant, removing the bandages.

   It took you some time to clean the wound and the help of Mason to put the bandages back on.

   “ Did you take photographs ?” You asked between greeted teeth, because of the pain

   “ As many as I could take,” She said while finishing a small knot. “ are you sure this is not dangerous?”

   “ It had stopped bleeding not long after you all found me, but in the middle of the panic of being surrounded by them” You made moved your head towards the people “ I raised my gun and my shoulder didn’t like I was trying to keep my self alive”

   “ You shouldn’t move it too much” she pointed out.

   “  I know” you sighted “ Sadly that's a luxury I can't give myself, everything her seems to try to kill us “

   Mason and you walked around the camp, as you accompany her to take more photographs.

   “ So, what do you do? “ she asked, “ I mean, how are you in here?”

   You were behind her looking at the people gathering for the photo, even if they didn’t talk you could see that they did understand signals.

   “ I work for monarch” you explained “ formerly a doctor, I was ascended a couple of years ago” Mason’s face showed how surprised she was of your answer.

   “ I didn’t paint you as a doctor, I mean” she stopped to take another photo of a cabin. “ you were the pilot of one of the helicopters and you know how to handle a gun”

    “ I was trained,” you said “  Packard was the one who toughs me how to fly and helicopter” both of you start walking back to the place you would be staying, as the sun was setting down. “ He’s my dad’s friend and one time I wake up to see that out of the blue and gonna learn to be a pilot” You both laugh.

   “ Out of nowhere?” Asked Mason, with surprise on her voice.

   “ The summer before I had thrown the idea but I didn’t though my father would have taken it so literally” She raised her eyebrows.

   “ And the shooting?”

   “ Oh, that my brother and at the time captain Conrad’s idea”

   Mason was observing you, you were maybe two or three years younger than her. Your British accent not as pronounced but still linger in the way you talked. She had seen you on the ship and even presented herself to you while you were on your pilot gear, You’ve been cutting Chapman’s hair while joking of how close was he of turning into sheep. You seem to know the team, but now and then one would ask where had you been.

   “ So he toughs you to shoot “ She confirmed.

   “ Well, they were both a common occurrence” you looked behind, to the gigantic wall that separated this small village with the rest of the island. “ They would finish a mission and if they had time would come over, once they got into this big competition of who was better at shooting,” You said smiling at the memory. “ My dad made part of it too, and I was a judge” looking at the place you would be staying the night it wasn’t so bad, a little rusty but it serves its purpose.

   “ So?” She asked after you went to silence for a little too long. You looked at her and smile.

   “ My father won, but I think it was because James respected him too much. After that, they said I could try”

   “How was it?” She asked

   “ The first time I almost shot my brother as he was explaining about the safety catch” Of how much you laughed you felt the sting on your left shoulder, deciding to watch the sunset you seated near the hole on the wall.

   Looking up at the night sky, you felt relaxed for the first time In the day. The Northern lights had appeared and were a spectacle to watch. You could hear people inside the small room talk, yet, your thoughts were raising from one event to the next one. You were seated in the floor looking through the hole on the wall, while Mason put up her equipment.

   “ Beautiful isn’t,” She said

   “ yes” You whispered.

   “ Those it hurt ?” she signalled to the wound

   “ Now it doesn’t” You inform

   “ I mean we all got out without more than a scratch and you were stab,” she said looking down at you.

   “ My luck” you smiled causing her to laugh. After cleaning it up and washing the bandages, you had gotten to the conclusion that it wasn’t infected.

   You saw Mason meddling with her camera, but you didn’t hear the small ‘ click ‘ that came when she took a picture. Mason looked at you and raised a small metal tube on her hand.

   “ My flashlight broke”

   Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw James approach both of you.

   “ Isn’t it odd, the most dangerous places are always the most beautiful “

   He hadn’t changed much. You had kept him out of your head and heart for so long that when you saw him today at the lake, you didn’t even know how to feel; now with the silence of the night, your thoughts took force.

   Three years ago you both had parted ways, but before that, you knew him for years. Your brother had also been SAS, After a hard mission, you brother offered he who back then was Captain James Conrad a stay in your house as they both thought about what had happened.

   When arriving home later the same week, you got home from school and found your brother, father and a man you didn’t know, enjoying themselves before the chimney.

   You’ve been introduced to you brother’s S.A.S  Captain. That had been the first time but not the last, it was strange for Dave to bring things like work at home, as he had decided to keep the family away from danger.

Some months later during the family plus James meeting, they told your dad what had happened during a mission to rescue a small child, illegitimate daughter of a Malaysian woman and British embassy worker, and how everything seemed to have been arranged for them to fail.

   Both your father and you had told how they were possibly right about the setup, an illegitimate child would make it to the news if England wanted something it was done. So they possibly wanted to say they had sent S.A.S soldiers but that the mission had taken a sour turn and ended in the death of more than one individual.

   Both he and your brother had stayed a couple of weeks, who had gladly lined up with winter break. During his time there, you three would do everything and everything to keep the boredom away.

   Returning from memory lane, you notice that Mason had gotten to take her picture with the help of James.

   “ I suppose no man comes home from war, not really” You heard James said.    you remember how the story of his dad and how he left and never come home.

   “ No, they don’t “ You whispered still looking directly at the sky.

   Mason didn’t need to be a mind reader to see how Conrad's eyes fixed on you after he heard you. She had also remembered watching how his face went black after he found you on the lake, but his eyes, they showed something else. Deciding that as none of you would take the lead, she would, thanking Conrad she walked to the back of the room to see if you two could at least talk whatever had happened and was still going on.

   From the corner of your eye, you saw Mason leave and you turned your head towards her form with a questioning look, she had left so sudden; the look she gave you back was that of someone not amuse, but you couldn’t comprehend what she wanted.

   Conrads moved and sat next to you, he had understood the little stun that Mason had played. Giving you space so you could talk.

   “ and you, how did you get on all of this ? “ he asked you

   You remembered that they say something about people eyes not changing and they were right, looking at his eyes, they hadn’t change a bit in so long.

   “ Am part of the team” You said avoiding his eyes.

   “ Of whose team? “ There were some things he just couldn’t understand, how had you ended up as a pilot of an all-male team adding to the million questions piling up. He was trying to make eye contact, which you avoided like the plague.

   “ Monarch,” said Brooks behind both of you. You turned to see him in the back, offering a thankful smile as he had answered. You rearranged your seating position so that you could face the room, as it seemed they all had questions regarding you.

   “ Monarch” repeated James incredulously. He frowned while mirroring your position and facing the room, the northern lights long forgot.

   “ Yes, she’s our mission supervisor,” Said San.

   “ Mission supervisor“ repeated Conrad at your side

   “ Are you okay? “ you asked faking worry, everyone looked at you questionable.

   “ Yes, why?”

   “ I was thinking you had a concussion, I mean your slower today at processing information” Everyone on the room let out a laugh, even James himself.

   “ I just thought you wanted something else” Something about the way he looked at you, made your heart clench inside. You were studying to be a doctor and you remember telling him, the smile that spread through his face, which gave you the courage you needed to really go for it.

   “ Well, it seems I will have my personal doctor” he joked that day.

   Conrad’s visits in the following years, to your house, increased. With time you got used to calling him James, not long after your brother and he came the first time. You shortly became friends and it surprised you when you were the first he had told his idea of leaving the S.A.S.

   “ I finished meds school and got a job not long after on Monarch” you explained “ I got assigned to multiple things and in three years they turned me into the mission supervisor” you shrugged.

   “ So you are the one who accepted me into this mission?” Asked Mason, you had omitted that part on your talk earlier today.

   “ I liked your job” you smiled at her “ Other than you and my team, I trusted Randa to know what he had to do, he gave me the list of names of people in the mission, I just looked over it but did not read between the lines”

   “ Oh, thank you,” Said an offended Victor.

   “ I mean” You tried explaining “ I got into a plane so I could get to the departure place and I swear I was too tired”

   “ What about me?” Asked Conrad

   “ Randa told me he got this guy, a tracker somewhere on Saigon and I just” You shrugged, Conrad frown.

   “ You didn’t even know I was coming”

   “ In her defence, Randa told me he got the name from a fellow comrade” Said Brook.

   “ A fellow comrade ?” You repeated, your brain processing

   “ Now whose the slow at the processing of information?” Said James mockingly

   “ Still you” you responded seriously, everyone burst out laughing “ Of course, let me guess,” you said, going back to the original topic.

   “ Yes,” Said brooks before you finished “ It was Dave”

   You remember Dave telling you of Conrad's missions the following years after you said goodbye, he was always the one who wanted you both together the most, after him, your dad was a close contender.

   “ Well, I think we better sleep, we should wake up early in hopes to get in time” Said Marlow from where he was.

   You followed James to another room, much like the one you had just come from but with more space on the floor and a smaller hole on the wall. You opened your bag and took out your jacket, folding it to make the best made up pillow ever. James sat down right next to you as the rest of the team find their spot in the ground.

   “ Thanks” you whispered after a while, so it didn’t bother the rest of the people there, some who were already sleeping.

   “ For what?” He was still sitting while you were lying with your head on your jacket.

   “ For keeping them save” You singles towards the rest of the team.

   “ That's for what you paid me”

   “ Still, the circumstances are not what you expected” you offered an apologetic smile. Unable to find sleep, you saw how Conrad lay down, though, he too seemed unable to sleep. You were laying over your Right arm, where you could see James laying on his back.

   “ What?” He asked, noticing that you were looking at him.

   “ Do you think we’re really getting out of here?” You asked but to the end of the question, your voice was a mere whisper.

   Something about the way you had asked let Conrad, to really see how afraid you really were.

   “ We will” he whispered.

    You stayed awake a little longer, enough to hear when his breathing became even; and somehow knowing he was there lower your anxiousness and let you finally fall asleep.

Masterlist 

[bluewritesbadly]

Sun and Moon

In the town of Remial, there were two things that were always true: the wind lies, and Sun and Moon are inseparable. They are seen living together, dining together, and fighting together. Little is known about the two, but many people believe they have been in Remial since the creation of time.

The morning begins, as always, with Sonara starting a fire. The thin layer of snow coating the grass renders her furs useless against the cold. She crouches outside the cabin and kindles the flames.

By the time Desmund wakes, the fire is raging. He stumbles out of the cabin, his own furs wrapped around him to keep in the heat. He sits next to Sonara and puts his hands in front of the fire. The warmth returns to his fingers.

“What are we eating today?”

“Berries for breakfast,” she says. “Deer for dinner.”

Desmund groans. He hates picking berries. He would much rather enjoy the thrill of the hunt than forage.

Sonara ignores him. “Get ready.”

~

The sun is high above the trees when it happens. Sonara leans down to pick up her basket, and she hears a scream. Desmund clutches his chest. An arrow protrudes from between his fingers, an expression of surprise forever sketched into his features.

A long knife extends from the bracelets circling Sonara’s wrist. She turns and releases it. With a thud, it buries itself into the chest of the hunter who had shot her brother. He falls as Desmund’s body hits the ground.

She runs to her brother. Her knees hit the frozen earth below her, and she cradles his head in her hands. His light blue eyes are fixed on a place over her shoulder. His cheeks are pale. His chest doesn’t rise. The arrow breaks easily in Sonara’s grip. Anger rises in her chest, but she pushes it down. This can’t be the end. After all they’ve been through, they deserve a proper goodbye.

She carries him to the center of Remial, leaving their cabin on the edge of the village. She sets his body down onto the stone and throws a knife to hit the town bell, which lets out an ear-splitting ring.

“I need a healer,” she shouts.

She believes that he can be healed, but the broken looks on the villagers’ faces tell her otherwise. Sonara is dragged away as the Town Healer looks over Desmund’s body. She catches whispers of death, loss, and no hope. She runs.

Her feet take her to a small house, stone in material and covered in moss. She brushes past the gates and bangs on the door. The moment it opens, she is talking.

“A hunter shot him,” she says quickly. Her voice softens as two arms surround her in a hug. “Mom, he’s- he’s dead. Desmund’s dead.” No tears come to her eyes, but, as always, her mother does all the crying for her.

“I tried, but the Healer couldn’t save him. I failed.” She pulls away from the embrace. “I need to do something.”

“No,” her mother says, “you can’t do anything now. Let the Gods take the reins for once, and please don’t make me lose another child.”

Sonara looks away from her mother’s tear-soaked face. “He did so much for me; I need to do the same.”

“But that doesn’t mean you need to put yourself in danger, Sonara!”

“Yes, it does! I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to bargain with the Soul Holder.” She hugs her mother one last time, not letting herself be persuaded against her cause. She ignores the thoughts in the back of her mind that tell her she’ll never succeed. She blocks it out and focuses on one thing. She won’t let her brother rot in the World of the Dead.

Sonara leaves with the promise to try to stay safe. The Healer greets her with a downcast look. The villagers offer pity, but she grits her teeth and brushes it off. She will succeed. She will bring her brother back.

Desmund’s body has been laid on the steps of the church. Various flowers clutter the ground around him, and a stone slab rests on his chest. The word Moon has been carved into it.

“I am going to the World of the Dead, and I will come back with my brother’s soul, with or without the Gods’ approval,” she shouts down to the people of Remial. The shocked faces staring back at her don’t faze her.

“Sun,” one says, “only one mortal has ever tried to cross the barriers of the worlds. He never came back.”

“I am no mortal.”  Sonara lets two swords form from her bracelets. They glow gold. “I will come back.”

Silence meets her words. One man steps up. His robes are a pristine white, and his hair is pulled back into a braid. The symbol on his chest says he is the Town Mage.

“If you are set in your ways, then I will help you. I will return here with supplies for your journey.”

He leaves, the crowd parting for him like waves. He comes back with a brown haversack. Sonara takes it and nods gratefully; she shrugs it over her shoulder.

And like before, she runs. She knows how to leave the Mortal World, has known for centuries. Afterall, she’s done it before. She leaves the town, the forest, and reaches the water. The ocean before her crashes and turns, but she doesn’t let it stop her. She dives in. The waves push her around. The currents carry her. She kicks herself forward for hours until she sees the first hint of land. She travels over sand and into a dense jungle.

She stops where the earth splits; a deep crevice in the land that reaches down for miles. She knows what she has to do. This is the only way out of the Mortal World, but it’s still terrifying.

Sonara jumps.

The wind whips by her, and darkness consumes her body. The feeling of falling morphs into floating. She hovers in the dark. Her focus is on the World of the Dead, picturing the barren landscape and the red ocean. Something tugs at her consciousness, like a hook pulling her in one direction, but her body wants to go in another. They compromise, and her body falls.

The ground is surprisingly soft for a world with only rocky terrain. She expected something jagged, but her back hits a blanket of fresh snow. She guesses they have their own kind of winter. The snow is black, more like ash.

She sits and takes in her surroundings. Black snow covers all she can see. The tops of the mountains in the distance are obscured by a thick level of dark clouds, but no rain falls.

“Why are you here?”

Her eyes snap up to meet dark red ones. They look weathered and old, and there’s a sadness to them that doesn’t match the rest of the face. The creature looks more like a cat than human. Their pupils are slitted, and a few sharp teeth poke out of their mouth. A wild mane of tangled hair grows from their head to reach their back.

“Human,” they say, “what is your purpose traveling this far from home?”

“I have no home without my brother. I have never been a mortal, so why should I live in the Mortal World?”

The creature gives Sonara a once over. Their eyes linger on the gold sword that has been growing from her wrist ever so slowly.

“I see.���

“Tell me, where will I find the Soul Holder?”

“You seek the Goddess of Death? Why didn’t you lead with that? Her territory is everything behind that first mountain.” They point off in the distance. “Be careful of the Vultures though, they tend to be wary of visitors. Oh, and don’t eat the food.”

The creature smiles, showing off a sharp row of teeth, and disappears in a flash of light. Don’t eat the food? She wonders what they meant by that.

The sun, or what they call the sun in this world, glows an eerie red. It is forever set in its position on top of the highest mountain, a beacon of light that often leads to horrible death. Sonara is already close to the Soul Holder’s land, so she starts her journey.

Her bare feet pad along the snow, which gives off a smell that reminds her of rotting flesh. She travels across the flat plane and up the slight slant of the foothills. Her grip is strong as she climbs the mountain. Her muscles ache, but she pushes past that. This is her quest and she will succeed. The path levels out to a easy hike. Trees start to rise up from the rocks as she travels further.

A sound breaks her focus. Fallen branches crack as something heavy steps onto them. Sonara squares her shoulders and readies her blade. Her eyes scan her surroundings.

Two bright yellow eyes peer through the leaves of a rotted bush. The creature has black fur, like most others in this World. It’s body looks similar to a tiger’s, but the stripes are white and the main coloring is black. Its tail flicks behind it. It looks every bit like a predator, from the narrowed eyes to the sharp canines sticking out from its lips.

“Stay back if you know what’s good for you, beast,” she warns.

“That’s harsh,” he replies. His voice rings through her head. His mouth didn’t move to speak, but he transported his words into her mind. “You don’t even know me.”

“Then who are you?” She lowers her sword, somewhat hesitantly.

“The Vultures call me Soot Walker, but you may call me Soot. What is a spawn of the Gods doing in the World of the Dead? Don’t look so surprised, I can sense your magic.”

“I’m here to retrieve my brother’s soul from the Soul Holder.”

“Oh,” he says. If possible, his eyebrows raises. He walks leisurely out of the cover of the bush, and sits in front of Sonara. “And how do you plan on doing that? What will you offer the Goddess?”

“I will bargain with her. If she won’t rise to the challenge of a fight, I will give her my own soul.”

“Bold claims,” he tuts. “I want to see how this plays out. There’s not a lot of entertainment up here in the mountains, besides the Vultures that is.”

“You are welcome to accompany me, as long as you do not get in my way.”

“I promise.” He grins, baring his teeth.

In the next couple of hours of her journey, Sonara finds that Soot likes to talk, a lot. She learns that he is a cub in regards to the normal ages of his species, and that his family was nomadic and left him behind as a baby.

“You know,” he says, “I would have thought you would be smart enough to realise that you are carrying poison in your bag.”

Sonara stops. “What?”

“The food in your bag; it’s poisoned.” He makes a jabbing motion with a large paw.

She shrugs the bag off her shoulders and goes through it for the first time since leaving the Mortal World. She sniffs the wrapped food and recoils. Poison has a specific smell to those born under the magical influence, something akin to a sharp, metal tang. The food reeks with it. How had she not noticed before? She had been in such a hurry that she hadn’t checked.

Sonara takes the bag and throws it with all her strength towards the bottom of the mountain. It disappears into the ashy snow.

“Somebody gave me that pack,” she says to Soot. “I guess I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

“In this life, don’t trust anyone.”

~

They have made camp for the night, well, not night, more the dimming of the sky. Soot says that night is considered anytime that the Vultures come out from their territories. He could smell it in the air.

Sonara doesn’t want to ask know what the Vultures are, but she finds out as soon as the fire starts to blaze.

It starts with a scream. The scream sounds like a howl in the way that the red ball of light on the tallest mountain looks like the sun; only to an extent. It is a terrible scream, one that sends Sonara’s instincts into overdrive. Two swords appear in her hands, dripping gold light across the clearing. Soot lets out a roar.

The Vulture looks dead. Its jaw hangs limp, and its arms dangle at its sides. It would look fully human, but its eyes give it away. Where two should sit nestled inside the skull, one stares out unblinkingly.

Sonara lets her muscle memory take over as she kills the Vulture with a swing of her sword. The body disintegrates before it can reach the ground. She cocks her head in surprise.

“This is the World of the Dead, Sonara, everything that dies here is automatically given to the Soul Holder. The process is slower in the other worlds because of the World Barriers. Lots of paperwork.”

She gives Soot a curious look.

“Inside joke. I forget that your world works slower than ours; no paperwork yet. Anyway, you better get some sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

~

‘A busy day’ apparently entails a vertical climb up to the doors of the Goddess’ Hall. Sonara starts with a sigh.

“How are you going to get up?” she asks.

“Easy,” he says as she looks down. “I’ll fly.”

Two black wings unfold from Soot’s back. They stretch after being held in for so long against his skin. Sonara knows that they belonged to the stripes that cover his body. She has known creatures like that before. Their wings bind themselves to an image or coloring on the back of the creature, in this case, the stripes.

“Any chance you could carry me up?”

“None.”

~

The doors tower over Sonara. They are made of dark wood, with patterns and runes carved into the edges. She runs her hand over a specific symbol thoughtlessly, and the doors swing open.

Left with no other option, she steps in.

The first thing she notices about the Hall is the smell of… flowers. Instead of the rotting stench that she had expected, she is greeted with the nostalgic smell of an open field. It transports her back to a memory of her childhood. She feels grass under her feet and the sun on her face, everything that the Hall of the Dead is not.

Apprehension creeps into the memory. Is this real? Wasn’t she supposed to be doing something? She feels a flash of pain and falls to her knees, but the grass doesn’t catch her fall, instead the impact on the hard rock of the floor makes her cry out in surprise.

She hears a chuckle from above her.

“So, you’ve finally made it. We’ve been watching your journey since you entered our world.” A woman not much older than Sonara sits on a throne of silver. A group of figures stand behind it, all watching Sonara with a careful eye.

The woman’s black hair stands out against the silver. It catches Sonara’s eyes, and she has to avert her gaze before she is lost in the deep void of color.

“I am here to bargain.”

“Yes, we know. That’s what every young mortal wants when they come here. Or maybe not so mortal. Let me guess, you want your brother’s soul?”

She nods.

“I don’t know what you have heard of me, but I am not as cruel as the stories would lead you to believe. There is a balance to the universe, equal life and equal death. Your brother was shot, and you killed the attacker. This means that you are able to take a soul back from me. If a fight is what you wish, prepare yourself.”

Sonara summons her sword from her bracelet. She feels her vision focus and hearing sharpen.

“Soot Walker, you may help if need be,” the Soul Holder says with a grin. “I have a feeling that Sun will not need it. Now-” Her eyes glow red. “-I command Kaital to enter my Hall and fight for Desmund Moon’s soul!”

The floor splits, and a large man in steel armor, a sword strapped to his waist, pulls himself out of the gap. His features are covered by a helmet, but Sonara sees burn scars cover his visible skin. The ground seals itself behind him.

He raises his sword in a greeting, and Sonara does the same. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Soot sit at the Soul Holder’s feet. The Goddess strokes his fur with a smile.

The battle begins. Kaital strikes first, his sword cutting the air where Sonara’s head was just a moment ago. She ducks under the swing and dashes behind the warrior. Her own sword pierces his armor, leaving slash marks and hint traces of blood. He growls and swings back. His size makes him slow, and Sonara take full advantage of that. She dodges his blows. When he gets angry, he gets sloppy, so she sneaks into his weak points. She cuts and slashes without breaking a sweat.

But, Kaital gets lucky. He hits her in the head with the butt of his sword, and she falls. The crowd of unblinking spectators cheers. Kaital laughs. This is a game to him, just another fight.

Sonara feels her rage rise inside her, but this time she doesn’t push it away. She lets it control her. Her eyes glow gold. Her sword grows warmer. The ground beneath her back steams. They call her Sun for a reason, and the Hall of the Dead will now learn why.

Sunlight bursts forth from her sword. It blinds the warrior. She kneels and stabs him through the chest. The crowd goes crazy. Kaital’s body flakes away to ash and drifts toward the Soul Holder. The Goddess summons a jar and captures the ash. With a wave of her hand, it is gone.

“Well, that went as expected,” she says, still stroking Soot’s black fur.

“My brother’s soul?” Sonara demands. Her tone is tired, but the normal edge is still apparent.

“Oh, very well. I’ll be sad to see him leave; he’s been such a great member of my kingdom.” She produces a small, wooden box. “Don’t open this until you are right next to his body. If you set his soul free with nowhere to go, he’ll wander around forever in the World of the Lost. They have horrible taste in video games. Wait, sorry, wrong millenia, ignore that last thing. The point is, don’t lose him. There’s someone here who has taken a liking to him.”

Sonara tilts her head in question, but she takes the box anyway, stepping up to the silver throne. She gets distracted and falters. The Goddess’ eyes are dark brown, almost black, like her hair. She has high cheekbones and pale skin. She looks down at Sonara with a grin, like this is fun for her, like the death of her warrior didn’t faze her.

“Was Kaital already dead?” The words are out of her mouth before she realises it.

“Yes, all of us are, even me. Don’t you know the story?” She looks curious, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve heard rumors and myths, but no, I don’t.”

“It started with my death. I was the youngest daughter of Wret, one of the main gods. My name was Nila. My father didn’t like the way I talked back to him, so he hired an assassin. Crazy, I know, but back in the day that was normal. As soon as my soul came to the Hall of the Dead, father regretted it. He said it was an “overreaction.” He begged my forgiveness, but he had me killed! How was I supposed to just let that go? So I asked for a kingdom, as any good demigod would do. And here I am.”

“What happened to the last Soul Holder?”

“He was ready to retire anyways, so father offered him a glorious afterlife in the fields of Draendi, the Golden City. He gladly took it. Now I rule these lands. Any other questions? No? Okay then.”

Sonara takes the hint, her sword dissipating. She walks to the doors and looks back to call to Soot.

“You coming, beast?” Her tone is teasing, but her hand grips the box like a lifeline, giving her away.

“No, I’m good here.” He turns to the Soul Holder. “Is there any way you can help get her back to the Mortal World?”

She looks thoughtful before she answers. “I mean, I could just teleport her through the Barriers, but where’s the fun in that? How about,” she snaps her fingers, “my friend Hector helps her down to the teleport circle.”

A thin, lanky man steps out of the crowd. He has soft eyes and two folded wings at his back.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Sonara takes Hector’s arm uneasily. The doors swing open. His wings unfold and stretch in their sockets.

“Oh, and Sonara?” the Goddess calls out from her throne. “Give me a call sometime. You know where to find me.”

Sonara flushes, thankful that her darker complexion hides most of it. Hector chuckles, and he dives from the mountain, Sonara clutching desperately at his arm with one hand, the box with the other. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes to stop the sting of the wind.

“Was that necessary?” she asks when he sets her gently in the teleportation circle.

“Yes.” And he’s already flying off in the other direction.

She sighs. Her hand hits the circle beneath her, and her vision goes black. She feels the familiar sensation of her body and mind being pulled in opposite directions, floating in an abyss of nothing. Then, she sees light. The bright yellow sun is above her, casting its radiance on everything around her.

Sonara recognizes the forest around her. With the box still in hand, she makes her way back to Remial. Something tugs at the back of her mind, something she had forgotten. The mage. He had tried to poison her.

With a grim smile, she steps into the town. The villagers gawk at her openly. They follow behind her as she marches up the steps to the church. Desmund’s body is covered in flowers and offerings to the Soul Holder. She holds back a chuckle at the thought of the Goddess receiving them. She kneels. She sets the box down next to him and gently pries it open.

A blue wisp hovers inside. It floats upward, spinning for direction on where to go. It stops, focused on Desmund’s body, then it dives in through his arrow wound.

Desmund blinks. His chest rises and falls with unsteady breaths. Color returns to his pale cheeks. His eyes find his sister.

“Sonara?”

She wraps him in a hug, using all her strength. He hugs back, but he seems unsure.

“What happened?”

She tells him the story of what she did to save him. He takes it all in with wide eyes.

“Wait, did you flirt with the Goddess of Souls?”

“That’s what you took out of it? Desmund, you died.”

“Yeah, I know. What happened to the mage?” He doesn’t seem too fazed with the fact of his death.

“I was thinking that we could take care of him together.”

They share a smile.

When the mage is found dead that night, the villagers don’t mention it. They bury him far away from the forest. The town puts out a notice for their need for a new Mage.

Sun and Moon live happily ever after, with some exceptions.

[chlstarrbaby]

Finding You, a King Boo x Bowser x Princess Peach x Sheik fic

(Belated Day 6 ‘cause it was so long that the last day will be artwork)

Summary: Princess Peach goes missing one day, and though it is Bowser’s fault, he did NOT kidnap her this time, she fell into a portal that went to Hyrule, and so King Boo and Bowser team up to go find her.

Rating: T 

Warnings: Mild swearing from Bowser. Oh whoops I made this a foursome. and this is all actually LOOSELY based on Superblooper’s Chalkboard Moon

They had been lucky for quite some time now, for two months to be exact, and Bowser hadn’t broken through his Peach amnesia despite forgetting why he tended to pick a fight with Mario all the time in the first place. At the time of that particular rescue on King Boo’s part, Princess Peach didn’t dare reveal the true identity of her savior, and instead wove a tale of a small rebellion within Bowser’s ranks and in the end a very strong Paratroopa had dropped her off on her balcony.

However despite all of this, she still managed to go missing one day, and King Boo was desperate to find her before the Mario brothers did. The brothers and a search team of every castle guard on hand were constantly searching the woods just past the royal gardens. It was curious to the ghostly king as to why they all searched there since it wasn’t anywhere close to his territory, and he had already searched the woods that were his in case she decided to pay him a visit this time instead of the other way around.

Regardless, he did join the search from the shadows and managed to tread where everyone else simply avoided except for two people he didn’t expect.

He was drawn in by the cries of Bowser Jr. through a rather large section of brambles, and found the young prince trying in vain to move his father who looked rather pitiful as he was kneeling on his knees and completely in a daze, the kind that looked like he did something that he regretted.

“Hello there, Junior.” King Boo greeted first and foremost before finally having a chat with his old friend and fellow monarch.

“Uncle KB! Please help me snap Papa out of it! He’s been like this since he chased Mama Peach into that tree and it swallowed her up! I’m sure she’s fine but he’s not listening to me!” Junior pleaded sadly. King Boo couldn’t help but smile at the nickname the little prince gave him, but he had perked up right away at the information that she had been ‘swallowed up’ by the tree Bowser was gazing airily at.

“I’ll do my best, Junior, and I’ll even help get your Mama Peach out of that tree. Now, do me a small favor and go make sure no one finds this place, we wouldn’t want them rescuing her prematurely when we rescue her ourselves, alright?” King Boo requested gently. Junior was happy to help in any way and dashed off after a very cheerful ‘Ok!’

As soon as the little scamp was well out of ear shot, the kings could finally address each other properly.

“Bowser.”

“Boo.” Bowser growled but quite weakly in his exhausted sadness.

“I see you remember her finally.” The ghost king had to point out the obvious for the sake of getting that card out on the table.

“And whose fault is it for making me forget her of all things in the first place? Why’d you even do it?” Bowser retorted sounding genuinely hurt.

“I gave you an implicated hint before I took your memories and just nearly gave myself away from merely glancing at her, and you still haven’t figured it out?” King Boo countered, knowing Bowser, as bone headed as he was most of the time when his ego was in the way, could be smart when it came to reading between the lines when it counted.

“You love her too then, don’t you?” The Koopa King finally realized in a slow, calculated sigh.

“With every fiber of my undead heart.” King Boo quipped back without hesitance.

“You coulda told me you know.” Bowser said off handedly.

“And risk your notoriously jealous wrath? Not a chance in a Putrid Piranha infested jungle with Fuzzies of all kinds on the side!” King Boo countered.

“Alright, I know how I can be, but I woulda understood once I got over it. She’s pretty great, right?” Bowser scoffed in knowing how he could be in the eyes of others, and then asked knowingly.

“Wonderful.” King Boo sighed before remembering something that he had to ask. “What made you remember her?”

“In short, seeing her again. Now for the long explanation, it just didn’t make sense to me to fight Mario over and over for petty revenge alone, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember who was ruling the Mushroom Kingdom, so I came over to have a looksee and it all came back to me the second I saw her.” Bowser explained, sounding genuinely remorseful as if he had been enlightened to her side of the situations he put her through time and time again. “I….also realize I’ve put her through a lot, and I tried to apologize when everything came back to me but as soon as I could get my bearings she was already running ten feet ahead of me and somehow ended up falling into that tree, though Junior’s description was also pretty accurate of what it looked like.”

“You should be sorry, I’ve been protecting her from you in her dreams almost every night for the past four months or so, and very rarely is it any other villain that has held her hostage including a certain bat-like fellow you seemed to have teamed up with at one point!” King Boo berated his fellow monarch as if he were a foolish younger sibling.

“Antasma.” Bowser growled with a weird mix of anger and pride. “I managed to betray him before he ever had the chance to betray me.” He finished with a toothy grin. Then he remember his little situation with Peach and his ego deflated as he poked his two pointer fingers together in embarrassed shame. “Oh, and uh, do you think Peachy will ever forgive me?”

“Good for you for one-uping an amateur. And absolutely not, but its ok, because she won’t forgive me for capturing the red former plumber twice either, even though she likes me for who I am regardless of my wrong doings.” King Boo patted Bowser’s shell rim knowingly. “Now, let’s get her back, shall we? How much do you want to bet that she actually managed to use her magic to get away from you, hm?”

“I wouldn’t gamble with the likes of you in case you win anyway, but she most likely used her weird wishing magic to get away from me and tripped on that tree that happened to be magical enough to grant that wish.” Bowser groaned at first, slapping his palm to his face and dragged it down his face as he continued.

“Please tell me you’re joking…wishing magic?” The ghostly king couldn’t believe it honestly, it sounded extremely asinine.

“Nope, I’m dead serious. She definitely accidentally used it here since she tripped and fell into that tree, but otherwise she’s stronger with it so long as she has a Star Sprite like Chippy…I mean Starlow or something or other, right by her side! I think she even tossed me out the window and into the forest with it during the Blorbs epidemic Fawful caused, but I could’ve dreamed that…Felt real to me anyway.” Bowser explained and shrugged by the end of his explanation.

“Fascinating! And here I thought her magic had something to do with her pure heart alone.” King Boo couldn’t help but mention, as he had replaced Mario in that Shadow Queen nightmare of hers and witnessed her magic first hand then.

Getting back to the task at hand, King Boo neared the tree and started to feel around it with his magic.

“C’mon, where is she?” He asked desperately under his breath in an almost hiss. And miraculously enough, a separate portal opened right next to the tree. “Well… that was lucky.”

“Lucky, or preordained because of some random prophesy we don’t know about from Fate and Destiny?” Bowser asked suspiciously, as even he knew King Boo didn’t use that much magic.

“How about we cross that bridge when we get there and worry about it later? Now let’s go get our beloved princess, shall we?” King Boo countered and floated about an equivalent to a single footstep before Bowser interrupted him with another question.

“You’re letting me come with you?”

“Of course, especially if you really want to apologize, I’m the only one she’ll listen to in order for her to even let you get a word in.” The ghost king replied automatically. Then he sighed as he decided to be real with his old friend, floating back over to Bowser to even touch the side of his snout for emphasis on the things he had to say. “Look, I know how you are, and as of late I’ve come to know how she is. If you truly want her to love you in any way, shape, or form, then you’re going to have to work at it and be patient about it. There are no shortcuts to winning her heart, and especially from where you stand with her right now, thus, you have to work from the ground up. If she can stand the likes of me, she can certainly tolerate the likes of you so long as you work for the sake of her happiness, as you must put that above all else at times.” ‘At times’, because Bowser did have Junior to tend to and worry about.

“Thanks, I needed that.” Bowser said gratefully. “Now, I’m ready to go get Peachy back.”

“That’s the spirit!” King Boo crowed, then realized something that he had to slightly correct. “Pun not intended.”

“Didn’t even notice. You coming with, or what?” Bowser retorted lightly and asked as he got up and headed for the portal.

“Naturally.” King Boo quipped, and followed Bowser through the portal.

The portal itself had felt stranger than a warp pipe’s shift in gravity under certain circumstances. Not to mention they both felt physical changes, as if a power up had become active on them or something, and in fact they both felt like they were spit out of the other end of the portal as they were flung forward and landed on their stomachs…which was immensely surprising for King Boo.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the changes immediately. He had actual hands, like Peach’s, and when he looked down he first realized he actually had a neck and he had more body to him than before! And he was somehow dressed! Like a human noble, well, more like a duke than a king as it wasn’t often that kings wore cravats. He was wearing white otherwise as that was his best color, and he had purple outlines throughout his suit, interestingly enough.

Out of curiosity, he turned to look at how Bowser had fared, and wasn’t surprised that he had turned human-like too but he wasn’t wearing much of anything other than what King Boo could only assume was his undergarments from what was under his shell. Human-like specifically because unlike Peach, Bowser had pointed ears, like how elves from fairy tales were supposed to have. Curious about himself again King Boo felt his new face and the side of his head, feeling that he had hair, and pointed ears as well. He wanted to see a mirror to see what he looked like but he already knew that would have to wait, as they were in a forest.

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!” Bowser shrilled as he finally came to, looking wildly at all his extremities. Yes, even there, and he calmed down at the sight of it, as its size boosted his ego. He felt lighter otherwise and realized he could twist his torso quite a bit as he checked to see if his shell was still there, which it wasn’t…not entirely anyway.

“Your shell seems to have turned into a very realistic looking tattoo on your back.” King Boo offered for him. At his words, Bowser finally got a good look at the ghost king.

“What the hell happened to you?” The Koopa King asked in a much calmer tone but was still obviously bewildered.

“Same thing that happened to you of course. Could you tell me what color my hair is? Yours is still a red head by the way.” King Boo replied.

“Well, your hair is white like you always were, and your eyes are still yellow with that darkness around them because of that topaz in your crown.” Bowser told him honestly.

“And your hair is unruly enough that we might have to braid it so you don’t look like a barbarian, even though you already do since you have no clothes besides those…undergarments.” King Boo felt the need to mention, as it was going to be cumbersome traveling and running into people in the way they were now.

“Braids aren’t manly! And there’s no way I’m letting you touch my hair, I don’t care how unruly it is!” Bowser exclaimed in defiance, instantly putting his hands on his head to shield his hair from any of King Boo’s tricks, as he was the master of illusions after all. Though already Bowser was having second thoughts as he felt the length of his hair was longer, and if it was as unruly as King Boo had said, then he was going to need to do something with it.

“Fine, I’ll leave your hair alone. But you still need clothes so I’m going to think of some and hope it works.” King Boo already had something in mind, and snapped his new fingers full of magic and aimed it at Bowser, leaving the humanized Koopa King in rather average looking clothes. A beige shirt and a dark green vest with some brown pants that were neither formal nor too baggy, and some average brown boots that Bowser tried not to think too hard about in them looking like they belong on some plumber feet that he knew all too well.

“Really? You’re dressed all regal and stuff and you have the gall to stick me in peasant clothes?” Bowser asked ungratefully as he looked down at himself, but upon not getting a response he looked up and saw that King Boo’s attention was towards something behind them but above where they came from. “Hey! Are you even listening to-! Me?” Bowser yelled but decided to look at whatever got his fellow monarch’s attention and strangely recognized it.

Though they were clearly in a forest judging by the trees and greenery ahead and around them respectively, and by how fresh the air smelled here, around them in this little area was a stone wall, and behind them directly was a structure of some sort of an ancient looking entryway to what was possibly a temple judging by the strange symbol above the archway, and there was a broken stair case that didn’t go down very far so if anyone wanted to go up there, they needed to find some other way.

Bowser, noting how familiar all this was starting to look, and that bothered him greatly, he finally looked around to soak in his surroundings. There was a… well it was way too big to be a pedestal, a pad maybe, it had that same symbol as the archway on it…as well as three golden triangles over that symbol. In the corner on Bowser’s right there was even a stone with what looked like an obscure crying eye, and behind King Boo was a stump and their portal home was right above it.

“This is starting to look a lot like a video game Junior has, and because of all the coincidences I’m seeing, I think I know where we are.” Bowser decided to mention, and as he remembered even more details about the game in Junior’s possession, he remembered that he probably looked a bit like the main villain since his hair was red. Bowser then looked at the color of his skin…and at least that’s where the similarities stopped. He was tan, about the same color as his own scales were, and there was no way he would look like he was from the desert. Just a farmer maybe, but no more than that.

“I babysat Junior a few times when he was just past his hatchling stage, remember? I believe I know exactly what videogame you’re talking about. We’re in Hyrule, aren’t we?” King Boo quipped as he came out of his stupor took in their surroundings as well.

“Yeah, and though I hate to admit it, I’m gonna take you up on your offer of braiding my hair. Just don’t put any stupid flowers in it, alright?” Bowser relented and requested harshly for the sake of manly emphasis.

“Are you sure? Yellow flowers are her favorite, and they will make you more approachable, and I do make a mean flower crown.” King Boo teased.

“Not until we find her.” Bowser huffed in impatience. King Boo nodded, floated over to him and got right to work in making what was formerly Bowser’s mane into one big braid, and he tied it up with another bit of magic and illusion.

Now that they were as settled as they could get with their appearances they set out in search of their beloved princess. They mostly had a hope and a prayer to go on that Peach was lucky enough to have gotten hospitality at Hyrule Castle, and from where they were they could only hope the short cuts in the forest actually worked.

Bowser was remarkably lucky to have remembered that the short cut through Zora River was their best bet of getting to Castle town in good time. After a bit of wandering and trial and error they managed to find it, the pool of water with its own little archway to indicate that it went somewhere far outside the forest.

King Boo merely drifted in and through, but Bowser had to get used to swimming in his new body but thankfully it didn’t take him long as he realized his new limbs made it much easier than he was used to. After popping up and out on the other side, they followed the river down and away from the waterfall. Bowser swam the rest of the way as soon as it was deep enough, while King Boo kept floating as he followed along the river and Bowser’s position, and rolling his eyes at the childish antics of his fellow monarch. Though he did entertain himself with being able to see his reflection a little in the water’s surface, and he had to admit, he was quite handsome, but he could only hope that Princess Peach thought so too, even if it was temporary.

Eventually after getting past what was really a narrow canyon with a river in it, the land opened up greatly as they could see Lon Lon Ranch in the distance, and they passed by the steps to Kakariko Village. As soon as they got to the castle walls, Bowser climbed out of the river, and started booking it as he vaguely remembered that they closed the castle town gates at night to keep the Stalchildren at bay. King Boo followed closely behind remembering the same because Junior took a very long time to figure out that it was safer to stay in the river at night when one is locked out of the town.

They managed to make it just at sunset relieved to be in the safety of the town but aggravated that they’d still have to wait because there was no way they would be able to reach her at this hour, even if they snuck in…well there was an idea.

“I can still get in because they can’t touch me, unless the princess of this kingdom uses her magic I assume.” King Boo mentioned excitedly, happy that he actually thought of it.

“Sounds like a good plan to me, but what do I do?” Bowser asked, equally excited that Peach was practically in their reach, but worried for a moment that he wouldn’t be able to see her until the next day already.

“You probably can’t breathe fire now, and you’ve definitely lost some of your strength with your missing bulk. So I suggest you wait here and find a place to sleep for the night. Even when I find her, she’s not going to just leave her place of hospitality unannounced at this hour.” King Boo explained.

“Right. That makes sense. Just let me know that she’s doing ok when you get back, alright?” Bowser requested slightly gruffly, but only because he really was worried about Peach.

“Of course.” King Boo replied and flew off towards Hyrule Castle. He flew high enough that he wouldn’t be too suspicious looking, hoping that he looked enough like a bird to fool anyone in these truly medieval times.

As soon as he was above the courtyard, he flew down towards it and decided to rest himself on the branch of a tree. He wasn’t about to phase into any rooms in case he accidentally walked in on her, and seeing little choice in the matter he decided to lure her out. He summoned his trusty violin and began to play Clair de Lune hoping with all his undead heart that she’d hear it from wherever she was.

Peach was lying on her stomach on her bed going over her hand made translation dictionary from Hylian to her language, and since she was doing some night studying, she wasn’t dressed for bed yet, when she heard a familiar song that she wasn’t sure was possibly also in this world. Out of curiosity she got up and went to her window to find the source, not expecting to find it right away on a tree across the way. For there playing the violin, was a man with white hair that looked silver in the moonlight, and was dressed in a white suit and purple accents, his shoes were black however, with a very polished shine. It was his crown that gave him away though, as she knew it anywhere, still flattered to this day that he had stuck with the first jewel that she had suggested to him.

“It’s still a lovely rendition, you silly balloon. Though I suppose I can’t call you that now, can I?” She managed to say just over his music, but quiet enough that anyone who had noticed his presence wouldn’t know she was somewhat in cahoots with him. When he looked up finally, his eyes, though still yellow, looked extremely gentle even with the usual darkness around them, not to mention he looked so relieved to see her.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, my dear. We’ve been worried sick about you, even if it has only been a few hours.” King Boo replied to her, having stopped playing as soon as he heard her voice, and floating over to her, taking one of her hands in his and linking their fingers together (because he finally could) and cupping her cheek affectionately with his other hand.

“We? Hours? But I’ve been here for months!” Peach exclaimed in confusion, but in a whisper exclamation so she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Huh, must be a time difference between dimensions.” King Boo concluded in thought aloud. Then he pulled away from her a little as he knew her initial reaction to his traveling companion thus far wouldn’t be agreeable with her. “As for the ‘we’, I traveled with someone I know you won’t like, even if he has come all this way to desperately apologize to you, and has promised to behave better for the sake of your happiness.” He told her bashfully, poking his index fingers together.

Peach sucked in a breath, knowing exactly who he was referring to. But before she could say anything on the matter, she noticed someone else she had come to care for in her time here in Hyrule, and she could tell even from this distance that he was readying a small weapon.

“Look out!” She cried as she grabbed King Boo by his suit’s lapels and dragged him in and just away from the window, just as a kunai pierced the air past them and lodged itself into the bedroom door.

King Boo glared daggers at the weapon and thanked the stars of their home world as well as the goddesses of this one that Peach just happened to forget that he was a ghost, as that implicated that she could have been hurt by the weapon because it would have gone right through him.

“Please, don’t. That was just a friend of mine who had promised to keep me safe during my time here, he didn’t know.” Peach pleaded as she saw the death glare in his eyes even as he kept his gaze away from her and at the kunai behind him. And as if to prove her point further from the way it looks, she tactfully shifted them so that she had pinned him against the wall, knowing that the owner of the kunai would come to check to see if she was alright.

Distracted from her movement and how she positioned them, King Boo decided to do everything she asked of him as he already wanted to see how this would play out. Especially since grabbing him she had moved her arms around his neck and one of her hands was along the back of his head, and most likely subconsciously stroking his hair. It felt nice, despite that she wasn’t saying anything and kept her gaze on the window, waiting for something…or someone since it was a friend of hers that was only trying to protect her, though he also couldn’t help but idly note that she was still human herself, coming into this world didn’t give her Hylian ears like he and Bowser had gotten, so that was a bit strange.

Finally, that friend of hers made for her open window since it was faster and more efficient and for the sake of whether or not she needed his assistance.

“Peach! Are you alrigh-!” The youth crouching on the edge of her window called in worry but instantly took in the positioning and stopped himself. Trying not to narrow his eyes at the extremely suspicious looking yellowed eyed man in Peach’s arms.

“I’m fine Sheik, but I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t try stabbing my friends in the back like that.” She told him gratefully but sternly. “This is-!”

“Beauregard, King Beauregard, but otherwise she may have referred to me as King Boo in any stories she told of our homeland.” King Boo held out his hand in a friendly gesture in an attempt for a handshake but Peach still hadn’t let up on him, which made the positioning extremely awkward.

Realizing it was probably best to look more appropriate and to subtly let Sheik down easy, she finally let go of the ghost king and patted out invisible dust for the sake of regaining her composure.

“Since he’s here,” Peach began, but Sheik finished her thought for her since it was already obvious.

“That means you’ll be able to go home…assuming he still knows where the portal is.” Sheik mentioned suspiciously, still narrowing his eyes at King Boo.

“Sacred Forest right above the lone stump in front of the Forest Temple. And even if it’s closed, I can still reopen it with my magic.” King Boo replied confidently, and decided to finally voice his irritation to the boy who unknowingly almost did something…extremely regrettable. “Just so you know, I really am a ghost. And you should consider yourself extremely lucky that our dear Princess Peach forgot that fact and inevitably saved herself rather than me.” To further emphasize the truth in his ghostliness, he made himself more transparent and half traversed through the wall, pleased to see the Sheikah flinch for a number of reasons, then he left Peach with one last thing to mention. “Might as well pack your things, dearest, and say your goodbye’s in the morning, my cohort that I mentioned to you earlier, and I will be waiting for you around the Temple of Time.” He backed up a bit to kiss the back of her hand as he always did when leaving her side, and then fully went on his way through the wall.

Which left the princess and the Sheikah youth alone, and Peach couldn’t quite look at him directly.

“So, I guess this is it then.” Sheik clicked his tongue not knowing what else to say, as it would be a bit ungentlemanly to say ‘at least you won’t be married off and kicked out of the castle by spring.’ But then he had a wonderful idea even it might be a bit late in the evening for it. “Any last requests on places to see before you go?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be a burden on such short notice.” Peach asked worriedly.

“Nonsense, your time here should go out with a bang. I could take you to Kakariko Village, my home town, if you so wished.” He offered nonchalantly.

“Really? I’d love to.” Her eyes lit up immediately, and she ran into his open arms knowing he’d either carry her there or teleport her there.

Meanwhile, King Boo had stayed hidden in the shadows for the rest of that conversation, out of curiosity rather than jealousy. His theory about Sheik being his own person seemed to be correct as far as he could tell. But he was still obviously trapped in a girl’s body and since Peach had been in his life for months…what better opportunity for King boo to strike a deal and make a wish come true, after all, he was already used to the idea of having to share her, what’s one more to add to her harem of men who adore her for who she is? For now, he’d leave them alone as he had to track down Bowser to make him wait at the Temple of Time.

Long after Peach said her goodbyes the next morning, Sheik finally appeared and insisted on escorting her to her escorts from home. They found them near the Temple of Time with no problem, but of course King Boo wanted to have a word with Sheik in private before they left, plus it would give Peach and Bowser time to talk.

“So what is this about exactly?” Sheik asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, though Zelda ‘sat upright’ in attention at the back of his mind since collectively they both did not trust this ghostly king for the life of either of them.

“It’s about you actually, how would you like to be free of that body that really isn’t yours and continue being with our dear Princess Peach?” King Boo asked out right, not shocked by the Sheikah’s gasp and instinctual jump back.

“How do you-?”

“In all honesty of getting to the point, it absolutely does not matter how I know besides the fact that I’m a ghost and even I can tell that you’re supposed to be dead, boy. Now make your choice. By leaving with us now, you’ll have to travel with your soul in a bottle until we get back home where our dimension’s natural magic will allow you to be yourself… a ghostly version of yourself, but you’ll still have control of what you can touch at least. And you will have to share her, as she does have a few admirers, myself and her champion included. So what say you?” King Boo interrupted, and explained, tactfully leaving out Bowser since he still had a lot to redeem for, and finishing off with the ultimate question that was all too easy to answer for Sheik.

Zelda needed to get married soon anyway, and he didn’t want to be around in the back of her mind for what came after the wedding, and he already knew he couldn’t live without Peach either, so of course his answer was yes.

Because the extraction process of Sheik’s soul was magically quick, and the cat was officially out of the bag, Zelda briefly explained herself and Sheik’s situation to the confused Mushroom princess, and also ended up teleporting them to the sacred meadow, but she didn’t stick around for any final goodbyes as she was still quite humiliated by even having to reveal one of her deepest secrets even if she was now forever free from it… or rather, him, it would take a while for her to adjust to the quietness of her mind again.

In any case Bowser groaned before they all entered the portal because they forgot to do one specific thing that would have really only been beneficial to him and his ego.

“Argh! We forgot to go to Lon Lon Ranch before we left!”

“Oh, and they didn’t let me sightsee all that much either so I haven’t been either, but what’s so special that you wanted to go to it, Bowser?” Peach admitted bashfully and asked curiously.

“Nothing except the fact the ranchers where his actual mug that we’re used to as their pendants.” King Boo answered for her.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Peach said in a flat, disbelieving tone.

“I honestly wish I was.” King Boo quipped while Bowser laughed proudly. Even Sheik rolled his eyes from within the bottle Peach had elected herself to carry.

Upon re-entering the Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser and King Boo instantly reverted to normal, and as Peach let Sheik out of the bottle, the ghost king coached him through it to stay on this plane of existence of not going into the light, and focusing on everything he wanted to do along Peach’s side. It took a number of minutes but eventually Sheik was successful enough that he maintained the shape of the boy he had always been (even when he was inside Zelda’s body).

Though Bowser had to continue making up for all of his wrong doings to her and her kingdom, he eventually won his way into her heart and relented in sharing her with King Boo and Sheik, and they all lived happily ever after.

[larissaloki]

lost 5

“Hey punk you there?!” Bucky shouted as he walked a small ways into the jungle. The sun had only been in the sky 2 hours but Steve insisted in going out early, hoping to find tracks from the fleeing omega from last night. Unfortunately so far they had found nothing, not even after splitting a small ways to try and cover more ground. A muffled call comes from up in the tree, forcing Bucky to look up, craning his neck uncomfortably. Up high in the tree he can see the blond tuff that’s Steve’s hair through the leaves, it moves as Steve makes his way down. “I’m coming now! Can’t see anything!” Not that Bucky was surprised by that. With a frustrated sigh he looks around from the base of the tree. Not only had the two spies gone missing, but now they have no idea how friendly the omega is and if there’s other’s. Dropping down heavily besides him Steve wipes an arm across his forehead that’s dripping with sweat already with the humid heat. “There’s nothing, I can’t even find anything to give us clues on Natasha and Clint. Why would they go so far...? “ with a sharp narrowed gaze Steve turns to him. “I think there are more out there Buck. We have to be more careful...” Nodding, Bucky keeps looking around the trees in a futile attempt to find anything new.  “We need to get off the beach Steve, look for a more defensible spot. We’re to out in the open out here like this.” “I know. Where can we move to though Buck? We have no idea what the area is like. We need to scout out in small groups. Look for any possible places to set up.”   “You sure spitting up, even if only into two groups, is wise? I say we should stick together punk.” “It will slow us down Buck...” “I rather be slower but better chances to live punk..” Sighing Steve nods in consent, together they head back to the beach to pitch their plan to the others. On the beach Thor and Tony were trying, and failing, to catch fish from the sea. “Tis much harder than I thought would be...” “Shut up Thor...you’re barely even helping!!” With a frustrated growl Tony glares over his shoulder at the mostly useless god. Thor stood on the beach as he kept causing to much disturbance. Rubbing a water wrinkled hand over his face to try and compose himself, Tony turns his attention back to catching something. “Any luck there Tony?!” He heard one of the super soldiers from the beach call out. Not bothering to turn he waves a hand to tell them to bugger off. Keeping still he finally sees a small school of fish and guides a net, thats already in the water, around the fish and after a quick count, pulls it tight. Shouting in triumph he pulls the net up and makes his way to shore. Proud of his 7 fish he’s managed to nab. “Take that nature!! I got them!” Laughing joyfully he hands the fish to Bucky. Who took them away to properly prep them for them all to eat, being the best with a knife. “So did you two find Clint or Natasha?” Looking at the super soldiers Tony anxiously asked for the other two teammates. “What about Bruce?” “Sorry Tony...we couldn’t find any tracks for any of them. We want to ask all of your opinions on an idea me and Buck came up with.”

Moving as a group, they all moved to where Bucky is gutting the fish and settle in a circle so everyone can hear. “We think we should move off the beach, find a better spot to take shelter” Steve looks around the group making eye contact with each of them. “It’s to dangerous to stay out here-“ “What about the other’s?!” “Tony...they are all smart, they will be able to find us, we can leave clues around to help them. But there are creatures on this island that we have no clue as to what they are. There are potentially other people out there as well. We need to try and get better baring’s. At least find a more reliable source of fresh water rather than waiting for rain.” “Our captain has a point friend Tony...” Grinding his teeth Tony nods knowing that he’s out voted. “I just...we should try and stay in one area, optimise the chances of them coming across us...” Fists clenched tight Tony looked  up at Steve with a glare, letting it be known that he hates this plan. “However, you’re the Captain...” “Tony...don’t...I’m trying to decide what’s best here...” “Sure thing Cap” With a frustrated look Steve shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. At least Tony hasn’t outright refused to move. “Tis is a hard decision friend Tony but it’s the safest for us all” Nodding curtly at Thor, Tony feeds the fire more wood, nursing it to get bigger. Ready to cook the fish he caught. After eating the fish and scattering the fire remains after letting it burn out, they pack up what they can. Making piles of useful scrap metal for Thor to carry, Bucky carrying any large rope like cables and tools. Steve and Tony are left to carry any luggage that they may need and other supplies. Making their way into the jungle, slowly walking as a group, determined to find camp. “Tell me why again, why couldn’t we have left our crap on the beach?” “Because Tony” hefting the load a bit Steve responds without turning around. “The others on this Island may try and take it.” “...ok thats a good point...” Chuckling Bucky looks back at the genius, a stick in between his teeth to keep his mind occupied. “I think the heat is getting to you doll” Blushing at the teasing tone, Tony wink’s at Bucky. “Nah, it’s your ass thats distracting me babe~”  Laughing lowly Bucky faces forward again giving his ass a small wiggle causing Tony to laugh.  3 hours pass with only short breaks to drink and piss, taking a systematic route so as to make sure no hidden paradise is missed. It’s at the end of the 3rd hour that they come across a clearing, more accurately an old camp site. Broken down rudimentary huts are in a small cluster. The floor is littered in plant foliage and what was once benches and baskets around the centre of the cluster. Possibly the fire pit thats now grown over and filled up with weeds. None of the huts look liveable as parts have rotted and fallen away due to elements, others look like they have been purposely destroyed judging by the few knife marks they can make out. Cautiously, the group walk into the clearing. “What the hell happened here...” Tony muttered under his breath as he bends down to investigate what looks like a...bone? “A massacre is what happened here.” A smooth British voice speaks from behind the group. Twirling  around, dropping their burdens, the super hero’s get into defensive positions. Pausing when they see Loki standing there. Dressed in a simple green tunic that dirtied with sweat and mud, supple leather trousers and similar material boots. A shit eating grin on his face, long once lustrous hair is ruffled and dirty, at odds with his usual pristine appearance.   “Brother...? I thought you dead!” Shocked Thor moved forward as if to engulf his brother in a hug, but stopped short unsure how it would be received. “I am fine brother, a few scratches and bruises but in one  piece.” Moving towards the group Loki looks around the camp with distaste. As if it has personally offended him. “Please do not tell me you plan to stay here?” “Good to see you too Loki, what do you mean there was a massacre? Have you seen Clint, Natasha, or Bruce?” “I’m afraid not my good captain, as for the massacre- follow me and I’ll show you why I know that” Turning he heads off back into the jungle, clearly expecting the group to follow him. A small walk from the camp they come to yet another clearing. “Damn...this is a party that’s gone terribly wrong...” Swallowing thickly, Tony looks around the clearing as they have all frozen at the edge of it. The entire clearing is filled with bodies. Or rather. Skeletons of once dead bodies. Taking a deep breathe, Steve took a few steps, carefully, into the clearing to look around. Who ever these people where, they had gone down fighting. “Things just keep getting better and better...” muttering Bucky joins him his eyes clouded with concern. “Looks like we were right to leave that beach Stevie...that native we saw...could have been part of a group that did this...” “Native?” Confused Loki looks between them all for an explanation.

“Aye, a native saved us from a giant beast last night.” Humming Loki seemed to mull over this information. “Loki, have you come across any safe places to take shelter?” Turning back to him Steve quickly gets out o the clearing. The whole place feels creepy, he just wants to get out of here.

“Of course, where do you think I’ve been staying?” scoffing at them as if they are imbiciles, Loki walked away again leading them in a new direction. 20 minutes later he leads them to a cave opening.

“In here, there’s a waterfall inside for fresh water” Quickly the group get inside. Walking down a narrow walk way for about three meters, they stumble into a sudden rounded chamber, high above they can see the sky through a natural occurring skylight. On the far wall opposite the entrance is a crystal clear small waterfall with a small pool at the bottom. A tiny stream leads away into a hole in the wall allowing the excess water to filter out.

“Oh thank god!”

“You’re very welcome~”

“Shut up rock of ages...”

Grinning like a lil shit that he is, Loki winks at Tony who’s giving him an unimpressed look. Gratefully, they all move to separate areas dropping their stuff and collapsing onto the ground. Thor moved to the water’s pool to start collecting water in empty bottles for the group and passing it around.

“Thankyou for showing us this place Loki, I’m glad we found you.”

“As am I Captain. There’s a lot of dangerous creatures out here. Some are even able to become near invisible in the trees to catch unaware prey. There will definitely will be safety with numbers.”

“You met some of the creatures here? Can you tell us anything about any of them?”

“Unfortunately not, Most of the time I have had to run.” At this he holds up his left wrist, showing his magical restrainer. “Without being able to use magic I have no means of defence. Only advice to always keep watching your back. A lot of the creatures here hide up in the trees.”

Cracking his joints Bucky sits by Steve humming in thought. “ Must be to avoid that beast from last night, if I could I would stay up high from that” Nodding his agreement Steve looks down at the small dead fire pit that Loki had made in here.

“We best find the others quickly...”

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #22

UPDATE 22: Oni Lee is So Strong

Last time everyone was about to perform an attack on the ABB. Teams were formed, Taylor and Rachel were assigned to the same team. It could be a chance for them to work together, see how that goes, but I’m not holding any high hopes for any breakthroughs in their strained relationship. So let’s continue.

What, you mean spraying everyone with dog blood didn’t help to calm everyone down? Say it ain’t so! Not that Heckpuppy cares, does she? Besides there are more important things to worry about right now beyond that unsanitary action. Skitter wants to smooth over what happened, so she’s willing to give it a try, asking the people from the Travelers for things like their codenames. Be casual, in other words.

Sundancer. Nice! Sundancer seems friendly enough, just a bit curt. She has her enough problems; she doesn’t need all these guys to add to them. How’s life with the Travelers? “Intense. Violent.  Lonely.” ...huh. Violent and intense are no surprise, but I didn’t think life with a team would be lonely. I suppose it depends on how much they spend traveling, it’s not like they can be surrounded by people all the time. The same handful of people all the time...I guess I can see how it can get lonely. Not that there’ll be an explanation, Sundancer doesn’t want to explain. I wasn’t too wrong, it really has to do with them moving so often.

Bam, suddenly Skitter is slammed to a side. Newter didn’t turn against her all of a sudden, it’s that there’s danger outside. A patrol. They already got to the ABB’s building, and there are two minutes to plan what each person’s going to do.

Kaiser and his Valkyries aren’t team players, hah. They just go all ‘We’ll circle around, you all from another direction” and refuse to talk any longer. There’s no time for arguing, so the rest start the strategic meeting. “Skitter, Bitch, you two have the most experience dealing with these guys, so start us off.” More like this relies on Skitter. There are all types of bombs Bakuda could use, I remember several possibilities. It’s hard to know which ones could be set around here. Maybe paying attention to the routes and paths the ABB take around here is a good idea, a way to know where it’s unlikely there are bombs. Bakuda’s not someone who cares about the lives of the gang, but it’d be inconvenient if gang members die.

“I can get the lay of the land, and the bugs will also confuse and distract anyone inside, which should make things easier on you guys.” The good thing about the fact Skitter controls bugs is that it’s unlikely someone will know she’s spying through them. If they got paranoid over every single bug in the vicinity they’d be stressed all the time. If only Skitter could listen through them, like it happened with the moth a few chapters ago...

Newter is the defacto leader right now since Kaiser decided to take a stroll, and he does know what he’s doing! Directing everyone around with no problem. Coil’s soldiers will provide cover from a distance, Sundancer and Labyrinth are going to be backup because their powers are a bit troublesome...this is a good team! I don’t see any big problems. This should go well until the end of the chapter or so.

The swarm is already sweeping through, investigating. There’s a lot of half-naked people inside – therefore they’re defenseless. Better be careful not to harm them. Other than that, some parts of the walls have suspicious spots.

I took a page out of Grue’s playbook and gathered a group of bugs together into a densely packed, vaguely humanoid shape.  I moved that collection of bugs through the doors and to the place where the little domes sat. The explosion blew a fair sized chunk out of the exterior wall of the building closest to us.  The people inside, already nervous at the influx of bugs, started scattering, screaming, running for the exits.

Okay, everyone knows someone’s here. No way everybody won’t get their guard up now. Skitter doesn’t waste time, she finds other traps and sets them off, allowing Heckpuppy and Newter to enter. Newter is knocking out everyone without harming them, so I guess they’ll be okay.

What I did know was that his bodily fluids were potent hallucinogens.  Even the sweat that accumulated on his skin was apparently enough to send someone off to la-la land, taking only a few seconds for it to be absorbed through the skin.

Well that’s gross. Like a tree frog from the jungle, no wonder his colors were so bright. While Skitter stops anyone who might shoot him – through the true and tried method of shoving bugs everywhere on their faces, that still gives me goosebumps – he keeps going. Kaiser and the Valkyries are attacking from the opposite side and blocking paths with blades, it’s inconvenient for Heckpuppy. That meant Kaiser would be the one who had blocked her.  Was it intentional, or had he been cutting off the ABB’s escape routes? It definitely was intentional. I think Kaiser had both of those things in mind when he placed that blade blockage.

Newter keeps knocking out people left and right until he faces someone the last person around. Suddenly, a second person appears behind Newter, and Newter falls. Oh well. Things were nice while they lasted. Better warn Heckpuppy about the recent developments. “Bitch!  Second floor, Newter’s wounded, Oni Lee is in the building.” There was a long pause before she replied, “Lung’s here too.” Hohoh, they totally did. Of all places, both Lung and his lieutenant had to be here. Well, of course they’d be here, this is where Skitter is, and where the protagonist is at, the action will be at. Basic fiction rule, it never fails.

As expected things got tough right at the end of the chapter. No way I’m stopping here right now. It was a rather short chapter, though, I expected something longer. Next chapter, immediately.

Lung’s fighting Kaiser. Going straight for the big guy, eh, Kaiser? It’s fitting, he wants to get rid of the ABB, of course he’d go for the leader. Skitter couldn’t care less about Lung right now, Newter is injured and Oni Lee is there. After sending Heckpuppy to that place, Skitter draws out her baton and knife, and decides to enter. It doesn’t take long for them all to surround Oni Lee, but there’s no way that’ll be enough to trap him. Teleportation and duplication is an useful combination.

I followed his line of sight, and saw he had already appeared just behind Bitch, half-crouching on Brutus’ back, one hand on a hook of bone to help him balance. There was a flash of steel in his other hand as he reached around her throat with a blade.

See? Extremely dangerous, that’s no up to debate. Thankfully for me as a reader, I’m pleased that an interesting character such as Heckpuppy didn’t get killed five arcs into the serial story, Coil’s soldiers are giving good back-up, they’re snipers. Oni Lee is teleporting all over the place, looking for spots to attack, leaving copies there...I’m pretty sure there’s now an Oni Lee copy going towards those soldiers right now. Oh well, they’ll be fine. Coil wouldn’t employ them if they didn’t have a good enough hand-to-hand combat skill, I bet. Where the sniper team had been, there were four figures now.  I saw the rifle fall from the edge of the roof as the two soldiers struggled with a pair of Oni Lees. Two copies? Wow, I should have guessed. Two snipers, two copies, of course.

While Skitter watches around, another copy manages to harm one of Heckpuppy’s dogs. Hah, now she’s going to be pissed. Good thing once the power boost she gives them is gone, injuries and the such are gone too...I think. I hope. Another two attack Skitter, holding her and ready to shiv her. As an attempt to have early alert of where Oni Lee’s going to appear, Skitter spreads bugs around, just in time to be alerted of one appearing not too far from here. He whipped his arm in my direction, and I didn’t have any time to do much more than turn in his direction before something collided with my head.  I stumbled and fell over backwards. Welp. You tried, Skitter, you tried. As I lay there, trying to parse what had just happened, I realized that a small knife was embedded in the armored section of my mask, cracking the lens.  A throwing knife? I’m so glad Skitter took her time with her costume, making sure it wouldn’t be some flimsy amateur thing.

Heckpuppy is injured, a stab in the arm. Not too much of a problem, I’d say, it could be much worse. Everyone else is having a lot more trouble. One of Coil’s men was tackled off the roof, Sundancer is crumpled over – really. I’m not impressed – and as said before, Newter’s injured and most likely knocked out. That leaves Skitter and Heckpuppy against him, since maybe Labyrinth is going to make sure Sundancer will be okay, and the other sniper guy can’t do a thing from the distance without his rifle.

The bug alert system is finally working, Oni Lee is being stung and bitten, and...huh, okay! Look at this: Then I noticed something weird.  More bugs popped into existence in the midst of the cloud, near Sundancer and Labyrinth.  I felt the original bugs perish as they exploded into ash. Fantastic, she’s going to be able to follow Oni Lee no matter what! And what’s more, that’s the real, original Oni Lee, that has to be advantageous too. This could be the chance to turn this all around! Heckpuppy is recalled, and the two of them decide to return where Sundancer and Labyrinth were waiting. Bitch offered me a hand. I gratefully took it, letting her help me up onto Brutus’ back. And the ice is breaking here, all in all, everything’s starting to look up.

They don’t even get too close to Sundancer and Labyrinth when things start looking like McEscher decided to join the fight. It’s you, Labyrinth, isn’t it? Space and buildings are being warped, this is a pretty cool power, I like it. Disruptive, that’s for sure, no wonder Labyrinth stayed back.

As soon as she can, Labyrinth touches Skitter and Heckpuppy, making them be able to see everything as normal. This isn’t the time for an interview about the details of her power, Skitter, forget about that for now. What’s for sure is that there’s some sort of tangible anomaly going on here, even if it’s possible for Labyrinth and others to not see it. It’s delaying Oni Lee, so it’s all working. Can’t complain.

Skitter’s indications are enough for Coil’s sniper to aim and actually hit him, injuring the real one. Nice! And that’s something that doesn’t go away through teleportation, no matter what he does, he’s still injured. Skitter even manages to indicate where he’s appearing, the sniper hitting him a few more times before Oni Lee calls quits and goes away. Wow, this went well enough! Sure, some people got injured, but nobody’s gravely injured, not even the guy who fell from the roof. They’re not doing too badly! “Labyrinth, watch him.  Make sure he keeps breathing and that his buddy knows where he is,” I said, “Sundancer, Bitch, we’ve gotta go help Newter.” Right, Newter hasn’t phased out of existence or something. I had forgotten about him for a moment, but he’s still inside, isn’t he? Presumably unconscious. Better check on him, see if he needs help. How’s Kaiser doing with Lung? Is he okay?

That’s for next chapter. I’m going to check, because this is too good to stop right now.

Oh, surprise, Heckpuppy doesn’t want to go help Newter because it’s his fault he got hurt. Okay, no, that’s no surprise. Heckpuppy isn’t the most empathic person on the face of Earth. Skitter’s having none of that, though. “We let him die, you think Faultline’s going to let it slide?  She might hurt or kill Tattletale or Regent in retaliation.” Skitter has a point there, I doubt Faultline would take that well. Thankfully that’s enough to convince Heckpuppy to help Newter, because despite everything, she’d fond of being part of the Undersiders...and dare I add, of the Undersiders themselves. I’m sure she likes them, at the very least.

Turns out the ABB is also into the drug business, and that’s what most of the civilians here were doing, making drugs. Fairly ironic that this is the place where the guy whose main skill is having hallucinogenic fluids got injured here. While I ponder if I used the word ‘ironic’ correctly, Skitter assesses the situation, deciding that touching Newter was too risky. There had to be gloves or tools somewhere that could be used to move him.

Sundancer will stay with Newter and pretty much make sure he’ll be okay while Skitter searches around for stuff to use on him. Turns out drugs is something Skitter is very wary off, based on an experience when she was young – seeing a methhead doing a ruckus in a bus. I must say, she’s taking everything quite well despite the fear she has! She’s being cautious and doesn’t let her, hm...let’s say ‘distaste’ – even if it’s a major understatement – overcome her. Maybe this same distaste is what leads Skitter to start rounding up the money that’s surely profits from selling drugs. Hah! I don’t think you’re going to have time to take the money with you once this is done, Skitter. It’d be nice, but I think you won’t have the time for that.

They do actually manage to find gloves and a way to maybe carry Newter, nice. It’s good when everyone’s cooperative – even if Heckpuppy is being very reluctant about it. The process of covering Newter’s wounds is not easy, mostly because there are no bandages so they instead have to use sanitary pads. Creative! And if his teammates give him a hard time, I think he’d be pissed at you for sticking sanitary pads on him, not at them, hah. I doubt he’d let something as minor and petty as this get to him, though.

Getting him on the dog was barely done when there’s a crash nearby. Oh dear, the respite was nice while it lasted. A gauntleted hand as wide across as my armspan had crashed through the wall. Hah! For a moment I thought it was a gauntleted hand as if someone ripped the hand off the arm and threw it through the wall. I bet a cape somewhere in the world can detach their body parts like that. Heckpuppy is sent away and instructed to seek help, so that means Skitter and Sundancer are left here, aren’t they? And Sundancer is injured, not too badly, but she’s injured nonetheless.

Six ABB members retreated through the hole, taking cover from...the giantesses. Hm. Unless I missed something big, I suppose those are Kaiser’s valkyries, aren’t they? Because I don’t think anyone else would have this power, everybody else is well-accounted in terms of powers – unless Coil’s men had a spontaneous sex change and didn’t reveal they could turn so big.  

The big man is here! Hello, Lung, what’s up? He’s not looking very good; his powers have given him so many transformations he’s almost unidentifiable. Kaiser is also here and he’s not worried at all, just waltzing in and attempting to impale Lung. I guess he has been having an okay time so far, no injuries. Fenja and Menja are seemingly uninjured too. All in all, Lung is against them, Skitter, and two of Heckpuppy’s dogs, now that she left. Not too bad of a team to fight Lung, although as demonstrated before...Kaiser’s not a team player. At most he’ll cooperate with his own E88 members, but with Skitter? I don’t think so. Oh, true, there’s also six ABB members here, but compared to Lung and Kaiser and the rest, they’re small fries, I’d say.

Lung turned to survey the room.  His men were arranged in a loose circle around him, facing us.  His eyes settled on me. “Ooo,” he rumbled, his words were distorted by the shape of his altered mouth, but it was easy enough to guess what he’d just said.  You.

And this time I don’t think biting and stinging Lung will be of any use. This is a good time to test how creative she is with them, now that she can’t use the same actions than last time – not that it’d have been a good decision, anyways.

Although I want to continue, I’ll have to stop for now. But man this is a fun arc, things are heated up! Mr. Wildbow is pretty good with action scenes, I like it.

Next update: in two updates

[i-am-the-luckiest]

Stranger Places Than This, Chapter 5

It’s finally done!

AO3 links. You know the drill:

From the beginning

This chapter

Stranger Places. . .

The temple was a pile of rubble, bodies trapped in positions of pain and terror, still burning even after three days. Only his desire not to show weakness prevented Fenris from losing the meager contents of his stomach. He had seen horrors before, and they played in his mind now.

A slave being drained of every drop of blood to provide power for his master.

The bodies of Fog Warriors littering the floor of Seheron’s jungle.

Undead rising from Sundermount, wielding swords with hands no longer protected by flesh.

A bright red beam and the sounds of screaming as the Chantry was destroyed.

This was worse than all of them. The air smelled of burning flesh, and the ground was littered with huge chunks of stone. Every step left a print in the ash that lay over everything in a thick layer. Fenris frowned in distaste. He was finally grateful for the boots Hawke had forced upon him.

“This is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” Cassandra’s voice was quiet, reverent, as if speaking too harshly would disturb the bodies around them.

Fenris forced himself to look away from the scene before him and follow the others toward the center of the temple. The Breach loomed, seeming to devour the sky as they watched. How was he to fix that monstrosity? It was far above his reach. 

He turned from the sight to find Leliana and a small number of soldiers entering the temple behind them. Wordlessly, they moved to take up positions around the area. This had clearly been planned. Cassandra turned to him, jaw tense.

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Fenris gave a sharp nod. “Just tell me what to do.” He could feel Hawke trembling beside him. When he glanced at her, she made a valiant effort to look confident and reassuring. Were he less familiar with her moods and expressions, she may have even convinced him.

“This rift was the first. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Solas said, indicating the rip in the Veil in front of them. Fenris narrowed his eyes at the mage. Here was yet another theory that required the risking of his life. Well, there was nothing for it. It must be done.

They moved toward the rift, and a deep voice boomed out of seemingly nowhere. It filled the entire space, as though resounding from walls that no longer stood.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Cassandra looked around frantically, as if expecting a figure to emerge from any direction. “What are we hearing?”

“At a guess, the person who created the Breach,” Solas said. At first glance, Fenris thought he was far too calm, but a closer look showed hands that twisted on his staff grip. He was as nervous as the rest of them.

Hawke frowned up at the hole in the sky. “Well, he sounds hideous.”

She would make jokes at a time like this. Fenris chuckled despite the worry that had been growing in him since they entered the temple. There was a chance he would not walk away from this.

He did not wish to die, but one glance at Marian restored his resolve. If he failed, she would perish, along with the rest of Thedas. She had certainly risked her life for her friends and her city. He could do no less for his world.

Fenris’ ears pricked up suddenly. What was that sou—no. It couldn’t be. Not here. He looked around at the others. They hadn’t noticed yet, which confirmed his suspicions. The sickly song was all too familiar.

“Walk carefully. There is red lyrium ahead.” Although he did not prefer to be the bearer of ill news, they needed to know.

“What? Why would it be here?” Hawke’s words were casual, but her voice was tight. She was afraid. With good reason. Red lyrium had brought them nothing but suffering.

“I hear its song. I do not read its mind.” He was aware that he was being rude, but the song was so grating. It gave him a headache after mere moments. He could feel it calling out to his markings and shrank down into himself, staying as far away as possible as they walked past it.

“How could you read the mind of something that is not alive?”

Varric shook his head sadly. “Seeker. Point. Missing it.”

They hadn’t even completely come past the mysterious lyrium when the voice boomed out again.

“Hold the sacrifice still.”

“Someone, help me!”

Cassandra blinked up at the sky. “That was Divine Justinia’s voice.”

Another, familiar voice rang out from the sky. “What’s going on here?” Everyone turned to look at Hawke. Varric was the only one who didn’t look surprised.

“Release her.” That was... himself? But he didn’t remember any of this.

“Most Holy called out to you. But...” Cassandra was staring at both him and Hawke with a sort of awe. He had no answers for her. Nor, it seemed, did Hawke. Sensing that they knew nothing, the Seeker continued on, leading them down to the heart of the temple.

 * * *

 Hawke pulled her staff off her back and dropped into a battle stance. Maker’s beard. Why didn’t they ever fight anything normal? Fenris had a hand extended toward the rift. He staggered back as it snapped open, and a massive pride demon stepped out. Shit.

Everyone leapt into action at once. Hawke hit the demon with a Fist of the Maker before anyone could even get close to it, then began pelting it with fire attacks. It stumbled, just for a moment, and Fenris closed in with a cry. Cassandra followed, and they started attacking the demon’s legs, barely avoiding each other, while Varric sent bolt after bolt directly into its face. The archers on the walls dared not shoot with fighters in so close.

The demon quickly recovered from Hawke’s initial attack and lashed out with a whip of pure electricity. Solas barely got a barrier up to protect the warriors before it came down. They both cried out and stumbled. Cassandra shook herself and jumped back into the fight, none the worse for wear, and Fenris...

Fenris was gone. Hawke was so startled she paused in her barrage of attacks. Where was he? It wasn’t uncommon for her to lose sight of him during battle, but never so suddenly. She searched the ground frantically, afraid he had fallen somehow.

A wavering beam of green light snapped her out of her search. Taking advantage of the demon’s momentary distraction, he had phased around it and was attempting to disrupt its connection to the Fade. That was. . . brilliant.

“Hey, Hawke! You gonna help us fight this demon or stare at the elf all day?”

“Sorry, Varric!” Hawke, embarrassed at her lapse, focused her attention back on the demon. The demon who was now turning toward Fenris. Her eyes narrowed as she sent attack after furious attack at the hulking thing. It never even flinched in its march toward her lover. Fine. Desperate times. . .

“Solas! Barrier! Cassandra!”

“When?”

“Now!” Hawke hurled a fireball at the demon. Solas’ barrier sprang up a fraction of a second before the flames reached Cassandra. She turned and blinked at Hawke, seemingly a little shell-shocked.

That got its attention. The demon had turned from Fenris, whose efforts had apparently been interrupted, as he was now fending off a pair of shades. Unfortunately, it had now refocused its attentions on her.

“Umm...” Hawke watched the massive figure approach for a long moment, then took off running. The pride demon followed her, paying no heed to the others attacking its flank. She could tell it was weakening, but it didn’t slow or turn away. She kept running and it kept following, making wide circles around the temple.

“Is this your idea of helping?” Varric yelled as she ran by.

“Nope!” No time for more words. She was getting short of breath. This sprint would have to end soon, hopefully without her being crushed.

Just as Hawke tripped on a rock and stumbled, she heard a loud crack, and the demon fell to its knees. Fenris had managed to disrupt the rift. She stood and caught her breath for a moment as Cassandra stepped back to allow the archers a clean shot. They sent two volleys of arrows toward the creature before it stirred.

The demon staggered back to its feet, but they were ready for it. Acting with a silent coordination they hadn’t managed up to this point, the team seemed to know what to do and when.

Solas directed a strong burst of ice magic at the thing, slowing it down. Varric shot an exploding arrow at its chest as both warriors charged and hacked at the backs of its knees. Hawke stood back, gathering all her remaining mana.

This would either kill the demon or her. Hawke figured her odds were about even. Solas, either feeling her building power or simply expecting insanity by this point, used what magic he had left to put another barrier around the warriors.

“Move!” she yelled. Fenris and Cassandra turned to look at each other, then took off in different directions, away from the demon. Hawke released a burst of telekinetic energy, centered in the middle of the pride demon. With a roar and the sizzle of electricity, it exploded.

Thank the Maker it wasn’t a living thing. The demon’s remains vaporized and filtered back to the rift. Hawke sank gratefully to the ground and watched as Fenris reached his hand up to, hopefully, close the Breach. She was shaking, and not just from exhaustion. She hadn’t forgotten Solas’ warning.

 * * *

 That infernal woman would be the death of them all. Fenris didn’t even have time to ensure she was alright. He had to close the rift.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face the gaping hole into the Fade. He lifted his hand and found he had begun to expect the strange beam that instantly connected him to the rift. It tugged him, like a cord pulling at his soul. He felt he might be dragged into the Fade at any moment.

This seemed to be taking longer than the others. Surely he had been standing there for hours. As time wore on, the outside world grew more and more fuzzy. He finally felt the end to the connection and snapped his hand back, pulling the rift closed with him.

The last thing he heard was Hawke yelling his name.

 * * *

 The next thing he felt was an ache in his back. He groaned and sat up, blinking at the light assaulting his eyes.

“Oh, thank the Maker you’re awake!” Hawke threw her arms around him.

Fenris grunted as the air was suddenly pushed from his lungs. He reached up to pat her arm in affirmation, then gently extracted himself from her grip.

“Sorry.” She backed up, giving him space to breathe. He had turned toward her and opened his mouth to speak when the door opened suddenly. An elven woman walked in, carrying a small wooden box.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake!” the elf cried, cowering from him.

“It is perfectly alright. I only just – “. Fenris was cut off by the woman falling to her knees in the entryway.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” She stood but continued speaking, not giving him a chance to respond. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘at once’!”

“It is fine. I will speak with her myself.” Fenris turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“At once, she said. At once.” The elf ran out the door before either of them could calm her.

“What was that about? Why was she so nervous?”

Hawke beamed at him. “You’re a hero. Most people would get a little... skittish around the man who saved the entire world.”

“I’m... a what?”

“A hero. You closed the Breach, sort of. It’s not growing anymore. You saved our lives.” At this, her smile turned fond. “Thank you. I know it sucked.” She looked away shyly.

He chuckled and put a hand on her chin, steering her face back toward his. “I would knock myself unconscious closing a thousand rifts if it meant you were safe.”

She laughed aloud, but did not move her face away. “That is the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.” She closed the gap between them, giving him a soft, too-short kiss before standing.

“We’d best go see what the Seeker wants.”

Fenris grabbed her around her waist and pulled, dragging her down on top of him as she laughed. “Perhaps she could wait a little longer.”

Hawke pushed herself back up so she was leaning over him. She was beautiful. Her tunic hung loosely from her body, offering him an excellent view of her body. A lock of hair fell in her face, and he took one arm from her waist to brush it aside.

He smiled. How grateful he was not to have lost this—to have lost her. She leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to his lips. Then she stood and backed away a couple steps, even as he tried to pull her back to himself.

She laughed again. “I’m not taking the chance that she won’t come bursting through the door. Besides, you just woke up. I want to make sure you’re completely recovered before doing anything... strenuous.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but smiled. She always worried. “How thoughtful of you. Am I to assume you show this much concern for all your patients?”

“No.” She laughed. “You’re special. Now come on.” Marian grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

He willingly followed her as she kept hold of his hand, leading him out the door of the small hut where he had awakened. Outside was a throng of people, all of whom murmured to each other as they walked through. Fenris clung a little tighter to Hawke, but stood tall. He would not cower.

The entire trek to the Chantry was the same. People stared at them—at him—in awe. This was far more attention than he wished. He would rather they return to their tasks and ignore him. It was uncomfortable, all this gawking. The last time he had been stared at so openly, there had been a collar about his neck, and his master had been standing nearby, gloating.

Hawke abruptly stopped in front of him, cutting off his rumination as he collided with her, smacking his nose squarely on the back of her head. He stepped back, rubbing his nose with a sour expression.

They had, for some unknown reason, halted at the bottom of a set of stairs near the tent they had shared their first night in Haven. Hawke spun to face him, eyes wide with either excitement or fear. He could never tell which. “Shhh—” She placed a hand over his mouth.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Hawke looked at him sharply, rebuking him. She repeated her command, and Fenris nodded to placate her. She released him and pointed up the stairs, beaming. He bounced up on his tiptoes to see the cause of what he knew now was clearly excitement.

Was that—Knight-Captain Cullen? Yes, it was. He was standing in front of the Chantry, as if on guard. What was he doing here? Fenris turned back to Hawke, bewildered, to see her gathering her magic. His eyes widened. This would not go well. He almost turned and went back to the little house. He did not wish to be a part of this.

With a grin, Hawke sent a wave of force magic just over Cullen’s head. It was not strong enough to hurt anything, but did ruffle his hair terribly. The Knight-Captain immediately reached up to fix it, looking about frantically for the source of the commotion.

Fenris stood stock still, staring wide-eyed at the offended party, namely Cullen’s hair. Hawke, however, was rolling on the ground laughing.

“You should have seen your face!” She crowed, tears streaming.

Cullen rolled his eyes and sighed. He had clearly not forgotten Hawke and her antics. After ensuring that nothing else was amiss, the soldier made his way over to them.

“I see your mood has improved, Hawke.”

Fenris glanced at his lover. Had she been in a foul mood? How long had he been unconscious this time?

Cullen turned to Fenris and nodded to him. He had learned long ago of the elf’s aversion to handshakes. Fenris appreciated his consideration. “It is good to see you are well. Hawke has been almost sullen these past few days.”

At this, Hawke scoffed. “I resent that. I have been perfectly sullen.”

Fenris was at a loss. A few days? How much of his recent past had he missed? Fasta vass. He felt Hawke’s gaze on him. He turned to her, and her expression changed from one of exasperation (probably that he had not laughed at her joke) to concern. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed, saying nothing.

He squeezed back, reassuring her that he was alright. It was a silent language they had learned while on the run. The first squeeze was the question; the second was an answer. They were so well-practiced at it the Knight-Captain didn’t even notice.

Seeing that no one else would mention it, Fenris finally voiced his confusion. “Why is the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall standing guard over the Chantry of a Fereldan village?”

“Er. . . yes. About that. . .” Cullen cleared his throat nervously. “I am no longer a Templar. I left the order to serve the Inquisition.”

Fenris frowned. That raised more questions than it answered. “What is the Inquisition?”

“Oh!” Hawke practically jumped into the air beside him. “That’s right. You don’t know yet.”

“Know what?”

“It’s why we have to go to the Chantry. They’ll explain when we get there.” Hawke dragged him off in the direction of the village’s largest building before he could even start to ask who ‘they’ were. Strangely, Cullen followed them. This day continued to get more bizzare.