#gale: oh my god she would have done the same thing without even trying to impress someone. i think i love her

[chopper-witch]

Need everyone to know that Gale and my tav Ashla (who I am also playing in a tomb of annihilation campaign) um, actually each other until they’ve out info dumped each other so much all that’s left is making out.

[everlarkficexchange]

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark. 

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

                                                -Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Melting Ice and Warmth and Words

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Teba x Saki, 8505 Words

I made this fic for @zzariyo for my server’s gift exchange event! Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun with it :3

In which Harth is the gay best friend(TM), Teba is a god damn fool, and I become a lesbian for Saki. Also this was slightly based on a post about how Saki threatens Teba with a sword.

This is the tumblr version but check it out on AO3 if you prefer

- - - - - - - - - -

"Historians probably hate you," Harth mumbled, as he tested the weight of his bow. "This is, what, the third time you've stolen priceless artifacts?"

Teba continued flipping through the pages. The sound of rustling parchment melded with the crackling fire behind him. A soothing mix of leather and pine aromas filled the Flight Range.

"It's not stealing if no one knows it exists," Teba countered, not bothering to look up.

"Yet."

He shrugged. "Yet."

Another sigh filled the air, and the two of them went back to their respective preparations. Harth set down his Swallow Bow and went to fill up two sets of quivers, while Teba continued poring through the personal history of a dead Champion.

It had been a day or two since he had found yet another artifact from a century ago. The depths of the Flight Range, and the expanse of the not-so-well-kept records in the library hid all too many secrets, to which Teba had taken full advantage.

This journal was worn, cracked smoky leather showing its fragile age. Although in comparison to its two predecessors—Revali's Diary and The Great Revali's Diary respectively—this journal was in much better condition. Other than by the contents of the pages itself, Teba had discovered you could decipher the chronological order of the diaries based on how sophisticated the titles were. The more extravagant ones being more recent, that is.

The warrior let out a huff after perusing through another paragraph of dark, cursive writing. He continued digging through the pages with an aura of frustration. Harth, ever one to press his buttons, glanced back.

"So if you don't plan to inform everyone else about your latest finding, yet, what exactly are you doing with it now?"

Another turn of the page. "The same thing I've done before. Searching for clues."

A smirk formed on Harth's face. "Hm. You know these days it's hard for you to read a cookbook properly without help."

"Shut up will you, I'm trying to focus."

A shrug, and then a beat of silence; the two of them basked for a moment in the piercing wind that cut through the Flight Range.  The flickering shadows cast by the fire only served to add to the almost haunting beauty that tonight brought. The chilling midnight moon was a barely distinguishable sliver, white against white in the brewing storm. Teba could only long for the soft hammock of his home. Although, it's not like he would be relaxing anyway.

Nearly all hours of the day, if he wasn't practicing with his bow, he was poring through a damn book. It definitely wasn't out of a passion for reading, but more of a desire to spite his superiors.

Elder Kaneli had yakked his beak off about how the "bow of Champion Revali is our last physical connection to our valuable history" and thus was not to be taken out of its chest, ever. So there went Teba's dreams of dissecting it and constructing a masterful bow of his own.

Kaneli had said that a "young Rito like yourself shouldn't spend so much time out in the cold." So there went Teba's desire to devote himself to archery, shackled by the Flight Range's new "curfew," which was essentially a bedtime.

And, years ago, after a teenage Teba had found the very first diary of the Rito Champion, showing it off to the respected elder as quick as he could, Kaneli had beamed in his rocking chair and said, "Oh hoo! We shall get to storing it immediately!" So there went Teba's achievement, gathering dust in a box for a good three weeks before he had just decided to start sneaking into the records at night to pore through it. "Preserve the paper's integrity" his ass, he knew the librarian just hated him for that time his makeshift bomb arrow had caused her tail feathers to smell burnt for a month.

At nearly every turn, there was always something that hindered Teba's progress towards getting clues about how to master Revali's Gale. If that wasn't enough, Kaneli had been nagging him more and more lately about settling down and relaxing. Just a few years ago, Kaneli had been all about training him to be a mighty warrior, but nowadays the elder just couldn't seem to shut up about "exploring new pastimes!"

So here he was, with his new pastime. Reading, like the thrilling warrior he was.

Teba rolled his eyes after skimming through another paragraph. He hurriedly turned through a few more pages, the rustling parchment catching Harth's eye once again.

"So how's the research going? Is it just brimming with inspiring details about how to command the wind?"

Teba chuckled, although there was clear bitterness in the tone. He held up and flipped the journal around, so that Harth could read the contents written within.

"You tell me..."

~The Eighth of Nayru's Moon~

Once again, that little knight has failed to so much as acknowledge my presence. He probably wouldn't know charisma and impeccable skill if it was shoved right into his perfect face— and goddess believe me, I have tried as such.

Just today, I was— formerly assumed alone— at the Flight Range, practicing my Gale, when from the corner of my eye I saw him watching me. His face, an unfortunate yet predictable bland block of carving wood. Even after witnessing my masterful abilities? HA! His dead gaze borders on blindness.

To think, the King is looking to appoint him as the princess' personal guard. I should think someone as unperceptive as he would do better as a cleaning maid. Forget the quick instincts of battle, I'm sure he'd be dead in an instant. He just blankly looks and looks, and stares and stares. All he ever does is stare at me, unassuming... with those striking blue eyes of his.

Too striking. Distracting even. If he dares show his stupid, atrociously awful face at my Flight Range again, I might just have to nip his poorly drawn bowstring myself. Followed by a legendary duel to the death, of course.

Then again, if he for some reason stops by tomorrow, I wouldn't mind that much.

Harth leaned back and gave Teba a smirk. "So, that's a no on the Gale research then?"

Teba let out another huff, snapping the book closed and getting on his feet. "Nothing but boy troubles in this one. He has to have kept more entries out there that could actually be useful to me."

Fiddling with an arrow shaft in one wing, Harth went back to filling the quivers. He let out a laugh. "Ah, I'm sure it's not all useless! At least now you know you're not the only Rito in history who's terrible at flirting."

A scoff. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That was literally about as straightforward as I could have been with this topic."

"Well do me straighter."

Harth proceeded to have a coughing fit for five minutes.

The sounds of wheezing laughter and less than polite comments from Teba echoed through the Flight Range.

"Hylia, I may not be looking for a wife, but I hope one day I adopt or something just so I can tell my grandkids how much of an idiot you are," Harth finally said, at the end of their colorful banter. "But yes, thank you for proving my point. A Boko skull has a better grasp on charisma than you."

The warrior crossed his wings over his chest, looking away. "Well sorry that I've been focusing on my strengths rather than dabbling in immaturities."

"Remember when you were in the infirmary and you tried to tell that nurse, Saki," he snorted, "You tried to tell her she had nice posture–"

"Shut it. Shut it and quit your grinning before I shove you into the fire and use the arrows as kindling."

Another laugh echoes, and the most Teba can do is narrow his eyes. But after a beat, he perks up and looks back in his direction. "How do you know her name?"

Harth raised an eyebrow. "Saki? Well I don't know, she treated me during that Ice Talus accident a month back. I probably just asked for her name at some point, you know, like a normal person." He shook his head. "Spirits above, Teba, you've probably been in that infirmary more than I have. Have you really not gained the social skills to ask for someone's name?"

He stared at the very interesting and engaging wooden floor, shifting his weight between his legs. "I don't have to answer that."

"Oh, woe is you. Kaneli never gave you a pep talk about how to make friends?"

"HA! I think our conversational topics peaked in the days where he actually encouraged my archery training. Less 'pep talk,' more 'lecture,' nowadays."

"Alright, alright, save your daddy problems for breakfast, Teba."

Teba glowered much in the way a Lynel would to its soon-to-be-dead prey, feeding Harth's amusement.

"Anyhow, you needn't go so hard on the guy, he just doesn't want you to kill yourself, which is especially relevant tonight." He turned around and picked up the now fully stocked quivers. "Now that you've finally managed to tug your beak out of that book," he tossed one to the huffy bird, "Let's go slay some monsters."

Teba's earlier expression morphed into stern concentration, emotion dripping away in favour of a practiced warrior's focus. He grasped one of the arrows and inspected the tip. "Fire arrows? Wouldn't bomb arrows be more effective on monsters?" The night seemed to turn colder to match his more serious tone.

The charcoal feathered Rito slung his bow and quiver onto his back, speaking quickly as he worked. "Not necessarily. We want as much vision as we can, can't risk getting blind-sided by even one of its attacks. Explosions would give even more cover to an already invisible foe." He also mumbled something about how he barely had the income to afford them.

There was a moment of silence as Teba calculated and turned over Harth's words, before putting the pieces together. He gave a confident nod as confirmation.

"So… have you ever slain a Wizzrobe before?" Harth asked.

The warrior smirked to himself, turning towards the exit with bow and quiver. White against white as he stood on the snow covered landing.

"Not yet."

- - - - -

Thunderous sounds in a frozen tundra; it came after the ripple of footsteps.

Jaded peaks weathered grey, the sky couldn’t be distinguished from the land. The snow had pounded harder and harder as they flew, flurries coating the feathered fletchings on their arrows.

Harth landed first, walking around on the open, frigid expanse. Teba did a sweep of the surroundings from the air. Nothing.

The base of the Hebra Mountain Trail— just under the shadow of the South Summit— this was where the last attack was. Hopefully it was where the final one was too.

There had been three travelers total; two Rito, one Hylian merchant. Minor injuries. Most all ran away at the first sign of frostbite. It was normal for the occasional monster attack to come up every now and again, and it just wouldn’t be worth the resources to hunt down every Lizalfos and Bokoblin that happened upon some unfortunate soul. By the time anyone lives to tell the tale, the beast has probably already moved miles from where it was last seen. The Hebra wasn’t exactly the most accommodating of places to enjoy long term.

And so that was the excuse. Save the supplies for bigger threats. An Ice Talus, Hinox… Hylia forbid a Lynel. A Wizzrobe would probably be off dancing in the sunset by now, and thus, no warriors should waste supplies looking for an “unnecessary fight."

Teba remembered scoffing when he heard the news— a scoff apparently so spiteful, that it had earned him a rare glare from Kaneli.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Teba. You won’t be recklessly going off alone to find it, understand? I mean it!”

Teba perched on one of the cliffs, getting a clear view of Harth below, surrounded by white on white on white. Harth turned his head and gave a thumbs up in his direction.

Well, that was one half of the instructions followed. The “stupid” part is still up in the air, though.

Teba unslung his Falcon Bow from his back, resting a fire arrow on the bowstring’s serving. If someone were to look up at where he crouched, they would be greeted by a piercing golden gaze; a pair of cold suns that sent you shivering.

That was the intent, anyhow. A warrior with a gaze like fire. Like lightning, like metal, like suns, like steel. That’s what he’d been told in the past, so he might as well use it to his advantage.

Still… he remembered once how someone had compared them to honey.

“What?” He had been taken aback by the sudden observation.

“Or like butterscotch… I use it a lot when baking. Oh! I’ve seen gorgeous dandelions like it too.” The nurse—“Saki?” Did Harth say?—tended to the wound just below his eye. “You should be thankful the color is so pleasant, the sight is probably what caused that Moblin to miss its mark!” Saki smiled and for the first time, Teba understood what it meant to call something “the sun.”

“Make sure you don’t use those eyes of yours to go looking for more trouble. Or else…” She had narrowed her eyes playfully. Noticing him just staring at her in silence, she cocked her head to the side, curious.

“Sorry, was there something you wanted to say to me?”

Yeah, but I’m not sure what. All he could really notice at that moment was how relaxed her posture was around him. Usually, he was surrounded by his fellow rigid warriors, or the stance of someone that looked in his eyes and saw fire. So…she was a nice change of pace.

Too bad his communication skills could be trumped by a deflated octoballon. Teba's sigh manifested into a small white puff in the cold air. Nevermind that now.

He had to stay focused. Teba would cut no corners when it came to using Harth as bait. However, he couldn’t deny the somewhat pissy mood he was in. No Gale, no practice, no clues, no fights. Sooner or later the village might just strap him into a rocking chair and say it was for the best. What a joke… At least killing off a dangerous creature would help let off some steam— ice? Magic ice…water…arrows… fuck.

Teba rolled his eyes at his own incompetence. Can’t even be a decent wordsmith in my own head. Harth was right.

A sudden flash of movement and his mind immediately crashed back to reality. Eyes instantly trained back to the ash colored Rito on the ground, who had now turned and aimed his bow at the horizon. Not even a second after the movement was made, Teba had an arrow nocked and aimed in one practiced, fluid motion.

Harth had two arrows nocked, aiming towards an unseen target obscured in the haze of snow.

Black against the pale of midnight’s frigid sheet of snow. If Harth could see something, it would no doubt also see him. He stepped forward, Swallow Bow unwavering in the wind

Teba adjusted the draw of his bow, training its angle to match Harth’s movements and ready to release at a moments notice.

The crunch of talons on snow. A small patch of dead bushes just a few paces in front of Harth.

One step.

Two…

Suddenly, an arctic fox dashed to the right and disappeared into the snow.

A draining silence. Steady, freezing breaths condense into puffs of clouds out of Teba’s beak. There was still a knot of tension in his chest, but he could start to feel it ripple out, like a patter of footsteps as a mix of closed off fear and anxiety walked out the door. Still, he didn’t falter his draw. After a moment, he saw Harth put down his bow and sigh. The Rito turned towards Teba’s direction to give him a smile and a shrug.

Harth met his gaze.

Then, the expression on his face suddenly morphed into shock.

Teba didn’t think twice.

He snapped around and let gravity take him, loosing the already nocked flame. The hiss of fire flew and connected with its target with a satisfying crack! Midfall, he could hear Harth shout a much too late “Behind you!”

The fire arrow hit rock, crumbling stones clash against snow. The burst of flame roared like thunder on the cliffside. Although the creature wasn’t hit, the area of effect was still large enough to singe at the tips of cloth.

A pearly white robe that faded deathly blue. The glow of ice and dark silhouette. A shrill cry escaped from the Wizzrobe that had stood, wand in hand, behind Teba’s perch just seconds ago. Even in distress, it wore a chilling grin.

Bastard. You won’t get another chance.

Another flame nocked and loosed with lightning speed.

The creature laughed, as if in pity, and twirled in its step.

Gone.

Teba gave a flap of his wings to stop his momentum. His talons safely connected with the ground, and Harth was at his side at once.

“Are you alright!? Are you hit?!” Harth started to inspect his wing, but Teba continued staring at the sky, “S-Say something, dammit! Teba we need to—”

He held up a wing, the gesture with an unspoken tone of “shut it.” Teba readied another fire arrow and pointed into the air. He whispered.

“Listen…”

His eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to discern sounds from the muffle of wind. Harth pressed back and covered Teba’s blind spot, nocking an arrow of his own.

The wind was unaccompanied. The dead bushes shuddered a tempo.

And then the midnight sang.

Like the pleasant echo of a music box…a lullaby that seemed to twinkle against the brink of night and day. A ripple of footsteps. A sparkle to his left, skipping like stones, as if the wind was water. There was a faint laugh, but Teba was the one to smile.

Gotcha.

The Wizzrobe had barely manifested before the fire arrow flew. A burst of orange connected with its frail arm, and the creature shrieked. Harth quickly turned and fired his own shot, the arrow nearly lodging into its face, but arching low and hitting its torso instead. The Wizzrobe panicked while the two Rito went to reload.

“Go for the face!” Harth shouted as he went to grab two arrows from his quiver. “It’s the only part that’s not protected by that stupid magic robe!”

As if on cue, the Wizzrobe had started laughing to itself, its arms flailing wildly as the flames that engulfed its person suddenly disappeared. It gripped its Blizzard Rod in both hands, starting to twirl with a sickening grin.

Teba aimed for the sky. “Move!”

Harth shuffled back in obedience as fire soared. The arrow crashed into a giant sphere of ice that hurtled from the heavens, shattering into pieces just a few feet above their head.

The impact caused them both to fly backwards, the bow knocked out of Teba’s grip.

Hmm… fuck.

Teba crashed hard, tasting dirt and snow. Luckily Harth was able to get in position to fire an arrow.

Its arc through the air was cut short by multiple more icy spheres hurtling down around the Wizzrobe.

Harth cursed under his breath. While they were far enough away to avoid the barrage of ice magic that would no doubt freeze them with a single touch, it would be nearly impossible to get close enough for a kill. Teba picked himself up and crouched beside Harth.

“How much fire total?”

Harth shook his head and stared at the ground. “I was so concerned with not arousing suspicion…sneaking out to fight was one thing, but—”

“This is no time for regrets. How many fire arrows, dammit?”

Harth let out a huff. “I bought a bundle of five and split them between us. The last fifteen in each quiver are regular ones. Although at this angle I doubt they would be of any use.”

Teba’s eyes sat calculating for a moment. “So I’ve used two. One hit, one miss. And you—”

“I landed the third just earlier on its torso. The forth…” He turned in the direction of the shower of ice. He could see it smash against the wooden remnants of an arrow. “I used just now.”

Hylia forgive the less than polite words towards the spirits that Teba spoke.

Harth gave a nod towards Teba’s quiver, while handing him his Swallow Bow. “Here. I gave the extra to the best shot around. I’ll distract it while you make the last shot count.”

Teba scoffed. “You and I both know you can’t just adjust to a new bow on the fly and expect to be accur—”

“Well if you’ve got a better plan, I’m more than happy to hear it!”

Teba grimaced. Always life and its impossible instructions.

The warrior slung his quiver in front of him, indeed confirming the last fire arrow nestled between the regular ones. He took the Swallow Bow in hand and gave another glance towards the Wizzrobe.

Its earlier spell had stopped now, and it was now skipping all too happily towards them. The ripples of its chiming steps seemed to glow brighter and brighter as it approached.

Tsk. What a gloat. It’s not even bothering to sneak up on us anymore.

Harth gave a flap of his wings and hovered. “I’ll lure it near the base of the mountain trail, and you flank. Do what you must, it’s all you.” He took to the air and began taunting the Wizzrobe, attracting its attention.

Teba cursed. He harshly slung the quiver back around him while taking up the bow. In the motion, a journal dropped into the snow.

“Crap, the…” He trailed off, observing it for a moment. The words on the page it had opened up on caught his eye.

~The Twentieth of Starset Moon~

I hope a Wizzrobe carries me off before I see him again. I envy their magical ability to disappear from sight at a moment’s notice. Maybe then I wouldn’t embarrass myself so in front of Link.

I've always  called my eyes a mere jade. A simple enough descriptive hue, and on occasion it would serve as a masterful segue into a pun about how the best warriors have a gaze that can pierce like stone. But no, he just had to call it, “grass.”

“Actually, I’m fairly certain that the hues of Hyrule’s earthly flora are much lighter than the color of my eyes.” I had said. “Like I previously stated. Jade, or emerald works. Jagged jade if you are akin to alliteration.”

Curse my arrogance as my response only caused him to elaborate. “It’s not just the color” he had said. “It’s like a sensation. I like just looking at fields. To lie in them, and smell, and be in comfort in the grass and outside.” He shrugged like nothing was wrong. “Your eyes give me that comfort.”

Hylia is a cruel goddess to curse us Rito to become round puffballs whenever emotions get the better of us. THANKFULLY, he didn’t notice as he then started to ramble on and on about his—slightly concerning—knowledge about the flammability of plants. How flaming weapons and flint produced different embers. How any fire arrow can become a bomb arrow with enough kindling. How you could tell the flammability of certain flora based on the shade of green. He noted how my own eyes were not the most flammable, so… there’s that compliment, I suppose.

There was a roar in the distance as ice crashed onto the earth. Teba snapped the journal shut again.

The Wizzrobe had cast another spell, a blur of charcoal feathers could be seen dodging the attacks.

Teba stood sifting through his thoughts as quickly as he could. Whatever power above had caused him to stumble upon this entry…he’d have to thank them later when he had the time and the faith.

The idea was obvious in hindsight. If he couldn’t guarantee a shot at a small target, then make the target bigger.

The warrior took the fire arrow in one wing, and the journal in the other. The diary was old and dry, and obviously it had a much bigger surface area than an arrow tip.

So he quickly took the very last fire arrow and pierced it through.

It burst into flames in an instant. It certainly wouldn’t pierce anything, but with the bigger area of impact…combined with a new reckless plan, there wouldn’t be any need to.

He smiled and took towards the air.

“Uhh, Teba???” Harth yelled as he saw his friend approach, flying closer with a flaming book arrow in his beak. “What are you— fuck! Ay! Over here, princess!” Harth tugged at the Wizzrobe’s robe, luring its face towards Teba.

He couldn’t talk with the arrow and piece of flaming historical documentation in his beak, but he cocked his head in such a way to signal to Harth to turn.

“But?! Its face!” A fierce shake of his head in response. “Dammit Teba!”

Harth soared around the creature in a semicircle, avoiding its bursts of ice that make the feathers on his neck puff. The Wizzrobe turned to wave its wand, it’s backside now exposed to Teba.

The warrior quickly unslung his quiver and threw the leather strap around its neck, the weight of the arrows falling on the other side towards its chin.

“TEBA WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The Wizzrobe halted its midair dance, turning in the direction that the new weight had come from. The Blizzard Rod was already starting to glow.

“That’s right!” Teba shouted, as he took the flaming book arrow out of his beak. “Show me that ugly grin of yours!”

He gave one last flap of his wings before letting gravity take him, nocking the arrow on the Swallow Bow. As predicted, he couldn’t fully compensate for the difference in the bow.

Its weight was all different, the string strength was all wrong, the grip was much more loose than he’d have preferred—

Through the haze of snow, and paper, and his own pale feathers, the Wizzrobe’s shining grin greeted Teba in full.

White on white.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Catch!”

The arrow loosed.

The flaming book seemed to soar in slow motion, or perhaps that was just on account of its weight. It arched high, nearly on path to connect with the creatures gleaming teeth, but the strength just wasn’t there and it bowed lower still to the Wizzrobe’s neck.

FWOOSH!

The journal was destroyed on impact, paper glowing and fluttering. The creatures’ attire was set alight, but all it did was laugh like it was an inconvenience. Like a party trick it had already gotten tired off. It started to try and pat itself down, but…

“Let’s see you laugh now, bastard.”

The quiver’s leather wouldn’t catch on its own given its natural resistance. But with the flutter of dried parchment…

All it took was one fiery page, and the arrows caught. The Wizzrobe suddenly suddenly shrieked, but the sound was muffled and cut off by sputtering and the sound of what Teba could only assume was suffocation. The bundle of arrows glowed like a campfire, the flames engulfing the creature's neck and already licking at its face. It attempted to remove the quiver wrapped around it with both arms, tossing the Blizzard Rod into the air in panic, but it was already too late.

The giant necklace of kindling roared in the Wizzrobe’s face, and in seconds, the icy beast was reduced to mist. The wind its grave, as the last of its magical robe rippled in the night.

Teba landed on the ground, eyes bright with unexpected happiness as he cheered.

“WOOOOO! Did you see that!?! I can’t believe that worked holy fucking shit, take THAT asshole.” He shouted into the air with a rare show of relief. THANK YOU Champion Revali and that Hylian knight arsonist! Gods, who knew reading would be so—”

“ROD!”

“Wh—” Teba turned in time to see Harth flapping towards him. But closer still, Teba saw the blur of the Blizzard Rod falling through the air, just seconds away from impacting the ground.

Hmm…

Gravity surely wouldn’t simulate the effects of waving a magic ice wand around, right?

SHING!

Fuck.

A burst of ice exploded from the rod’s impact, Harth slammed into Teba just as he could feel the cold travel to the tips of his wings.

The two Rito crashed into the snow, and Teba was able to taste the delicious flavours of snow, stone, and dirt for the second time. He propped himself up with a wing that was now faintly aching. He had a bit of a coughing fit, as Harth got up.

“Teba…” he trailed off, still in a bit of shock. “Wh…Where the hell’d you get a crazy idea like that from?”

The warrior had the strength to shrug with one shoulder. “New hobby?”

Harth playfully shoved Teba back into the snow as they both laughed.

Teba stared up at the frozen sky. It was already fading blue, the brink of night and day tipping towards a yet unseen sun.

That wasn’t so bad. Just a few arrows, a quiver, a book, and we’ve got justice for our village. If we hurry we can make it back before breakfast and Kaneli’s none the wiser.

Harth stood over him and offered a wing. “Alright, let’s go grab your bow and get out of here. I think I can feel my tail feathers freezing off.”

Teba shivered, reaching out to get up. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s almost like it—GUH!” He crumpled to his knees.

“Teba!” Harth propped up his back as he went to inspect him. He gasped when he saw his wing.

The black feather accents were laced with ice, the very tips of his wing were already starting to become glassy and stiff. Teba held back a yelp as he felt the ice grow further up his wing.

“Oh shitshitshit, that Blizzard Rod still got you.” Harth frantically went to remove a piece of cloth from his armour to wrap it around the ice. “Try to keep that warm. Uh. The mountain lodge is nearby, maybe we can get a blanket? Oh shitshitshit….”

Teba mumbled something incoherent as he felt the ice grow further.

“Guh… We can just keep this incident between us like planned, yeah? Kaneli is gonna be pissed that I blew up his quiver.’”

“Idiot! Get on my back, you could lose a wing!”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I could probably still fly.”

“Your feathers are snapping off, fuckface!”

Harth tried to get Teba to stand, but stopped when he started to hiss in pain. The cold on his left wing was starting to course through his whole body, and he shivered.

“Ok, ok. Maybe it’ll warm up when I get in the air. I’ll just start flapping a lot to keep the blood flowing. That’s how that works, right?”

“At that rate, you’ll not only be brainless, but wingless too.” A sudden voice echoed.

The boys looked up to see a set of pink feathers descend from the air. Harth’s eyes glowed with both immense relief and confusion.

“Thank Hylia, Saki….wait, what are you doing here, I—”

“Shhhhh…” Saki took out a sword, causing further confusion and shock to come to the boys. “All you need to know for now is that I was by the Hebra Trailhead Lodge when I heard a commotion that I can only assume you two fools caused.” She tried to press the blade against the ice on Teba’s wing.

Teba’s eyes darted between Harth and Saki. The feathers nearly everywhere on him but his left wing started to puff up given how close she was. He could smell a mix of nutmeg and warm safflina from her.

“I…uh…” Teba was rapped in the head with the broad side of Saki’s sword. “Ah! Hey—”

“Don’t move, before I decide on amputation.” Both of the warrior’s eyes widened. “Just joking! Ahaha… for now anyway.” Her cute little chuckle echoed in the air.

Saki finally put down the blade. She shook her head, the curls of her hair bouncing above her shoulders. “It’s already too strong to scrape off.” Harth’s head was turning left and right above them, like a child trying to get a peak of the action. Digging through the satchel on her shoulder, Saki took out a few heads of sunshrooms.

“Hold these, we don’t want that ice magic seeping in any further. It can spread to the blood faster than you think.” Teba’s beak was still agape when he obliged.

The pink colored Rito gave him a soft smile as she tucked a wing under his neck. She expertly flipped the Feathered Edge in her wing, so that it’s blunt side was aimed at Teba,

“Now, if your muscles move and contract any more, it’s just gonna cause any of the ice inside there to snap, effectively paralyzing you. We need to make sure there's no chance of that happening.”

Saki leaned down and pressed her head against Teba’s for a moment, planting the Rito equivalent of a peck on the cheek. “Take that as my premature apology.” Saki said. And that was the last thing he heard before he saw the swing of the blade’s hilt and everything went black.

- - - - -

Teba awoke with the sun in his eyes. He blinked, adjusting his gaze before identifying a blur of pink feathers in front of him.

“—and no doubt they’ve discovered you’re missing by now if she hasn’t said anything already. I’d fly back myself to inform the elders, but…” She trailed off, fiddling with the bandage.

“I could do it. You’ve probably already got your plate full with—gah!” A broad side of a Feathered Edge whacked Harth’s head.

“No. You need to keep that cut warm and toasty and uninfected. This bind won’t hold in those strong winds, and we can’t have the Tabantha skies blowing dust and grime into it.” Saki used her blade to cut the excess bandage on Harth’s neck, to which he slightly gulped.

Teba tried to sit up from where he lay. The Hylian style bed creaked under his shifting, and he muttered something about missing hammocks.

Saki suddenly stood, eyes lighting up to see Teba. “Oh good! You’re awake, let’s see how you’re doing.” She rushed to hold his wing, to which his heart immediately jumped into his throat.

“Saki, I—” Teba attempted to be articulate, but was distracted by the tenderness of her touch, and the sudden sweet smell of nutmeg and vanilla in the air.

“Stop moving your wing, Teba.” Saki examined all sides of his wing with a practiced eye. “I made the elixir in time to counter any frostbite, but you should still rest for at least another hour to make sure all the ice inside is truly melted.”

He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. “You…remember my name?” It had been a few weeks since he had last seen her in the village infirmary. Usually he only saw the older doctors tending to patients.

“Well of course.” Saki cocked her head and gave him a warm smile. “I remember all my stupid patients.”

“Am I included?”

“Yes, Harth.”

“Nice.”

Teba’s eyes widened when she unsheathed her blade again. So much was happening so fast that surely if he wasn’t coddled in bed right now, he’d be snapping bones from the whiplash.

Saki held the metal near his wing. “The ice on your coat has softened by now, so I’ll just scrape it off,” Her blade gleamed with her bright smile. “Stay still!”

The warrior’s eyes continued to flicker between his wing, the blade, Saki, and Harth. Looking out the window, he saw the crisp blue sky glowing above a now serene and pleasant white snowfield.

“I don’t understand. Where…how long have….” He trailed off, but looked back at Saki. “What are you doing here?”

Saki stopped for a moment. “I…” Her shoulders sagged a bit as she paused. “Well…I know the elders said not to engage with the Wizzrobe incident. But…” She fixed her eyes on his wing.

“I’m a part of this village, and I care about its people. Those who are hurt, were hurt, or could be. I don’t like standing by when I could be helping.”

She looked back up and met his gaze. A pleasant blue that greeted the sun. “You understand, right? ‘We risk our lives everyday, might as well use it for something worthwhile.’ That’s the excuse you told me when I first met you.” She brushed a feather under one of his eyes. “Although, you were half unconscious, so I don’t blame you if you forgot. So anyhow! I stayed here in case any travelers came by with wounds or injuries. Keeps my heart at ease rather than just cooping up at home.”

Saki went back to removing the thin bits of ice on his wing, humming to herself. Teba savored the moment for what felt like a century, heart fluttering every time she glanced up to check on him.

Harth finally quipped in, tone playful. “Guess you’ve pretty much got the same mindset as us “fools,” eh, Ms. Saki?” He kicked back in his chair and crossed a leg over his knee. “Birds of a feather….heh.”

Saki snapped her head around to glare at Harth. “Actually,” the tone could cut steel, “The difference here, is that I had the common sense to not go out looking for a fight. I had the basic logic to understand that fighting a monster on its own turf would be reckless and idiotic. I had the brains to gather further supplies than a mere five fire arrows. And I actually had the decency to inform someone of my whereabouts should anything unexpected happen, rather than having the arrogance to think things would always go according to my own plans.”

She sighed again. “I hate to make Amali worry, but I’d rather stay here to look after you two while she informs someone to come pick you both up.”

Harth shut his trap real quick after that, to which Teba would have probably laughed if he wasn’t also scared of the possibility of getting the same treatment from her.

After a few more minutes, Saki finally finished up and patted his wing. Teba mustered enough courage to speak.

“Thank you…for everything.” He tried to prop himself up in the bed. “I can probably fly back in this condition. Kaneli’s probably gonna kill me twice over if I don’t get back soon.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to piss daddy off,” Harth snickered.

“Fuck off, Harth.” Teba and Saki quipped simultaneously. Teba however, was a bit taken aback by how calmly and sweetly she had spoken. The thoughts were knocked out of his brain when Saki rapped his skull with her blade again. “Ow! Would you—”

Saki pointed the blade at his throat. She was so close he was sure she could hear his heartbeat fast…and it wasn’t just from fear.

“Firstly, no. Neither of you boys will be leaving anytime soon so long as I’m here. You will be staying in bed,” she glared at Harth, but kept the blade on Teba, “And you will be keeping your tail feathers glued in that chair.” Saki turned back to Teba with a sweet smile.

“You will be staying here for the next eight hours, not so much as scratching the tiniest itch on that wing. Then, when someone comes here to pick you both up like I discussed, you will keep seeing me for at least another two weeks so I can monitor your injury. And perhaps when that’s all done, I will think about baking you a pie in celebration of your heroic feat tonight.”

She pressed the Feathered Edge a bit closer to his throat. “However, if this turn of events does not come into fruition…let’s say, if for some completely silly reason either of you decided to leave this cabin and fly home, well. I will just have to make sure to give you a reason to stay bedridden for another month. Do I make myself clear, warriors?”

The boys nodded as quickly as they could.

“Wonderful! I’m so glad we’re on the same page!” Saki's smile and tone was so quiet and sweet as she sheathed her blade once more.

Teba could still feel his heart thumping against his chest. There was a pleasant silence as the lodge was filled with the crackling of fire, and the occasional chirp of a morning bird. He stared at the way Saki’s eyes dazzled like a delicate sky.

Saki clicked her tongue. “Oh you poor thing. You’re still freezing aren’t you? Your feathers are all ruffled up.”

On instinct, the feathers on his neck—and pretty much everywhere else over—puffed up. “UH. Oh! Yeah. Cold. Very cold…yes.” He looked away and started coughing. Saki got up to get something by the fireplace, while Harth did his best to hide his snickering. Teba silently mouthed “help me” to Harth, which only further hindered his attempts to hide a laugh.

The pink Rito flashed one last pleasant smile at the two of them as she made her back towards the door. “Alright, I’m just gonna grab the firewood outside so I’ll be back in a moment. You’ll be alright, right? Nothing’s still aching or anything?”

Even muscle in Teba’s body seemed to melt at the way she curiously cocked her head to the side with a smile. The best he could do was mumbled out his thoughts before he had the chance to think them through.

“With you looking at—after me, I think I’ll be fine.”

Saki chuckled and Teba felt a combined feeling of pride and embarrassment. As she closed the door, Harth looked back at him.

“Very smooth. Quite the wordsmith.”

“Shut it, fuckface.”

- - - - -

TWO WEEKS LATER.

“What do you want?”

The doctor grumbled rudely as Teba did his best to not seem like a complete idiot. “Uh…Saki?”

“You want Saki?”

His mind shifted to a daydream. “Yeah…” Whenever her name was mentioned he couldn’t help but smile, but that fell away when he snapped back to reality. “WAIT, I mean— no. I don’t want— I mean not no, I just didn’t mean it like— I just.” Teba grumbled some more. “Where she is. I want where she is, or… need. I don’t want. I’ve never wanted— I just need the location. Her location, currently. Which is not here. Where is she. Please…”

Teba put on his best smile despite the fact that he felt like his body was suddenly on fire. Perhaps that was a habit learned from the Wizzrobe incident.

The doctor shook her head. “Kids and their incoherent rambling— She's coming back from Slippery Falcon last I checked. Baking another Get-Well-Soon fish pie, I assume.”

“Ah, great! That’s fantastic. Yes. Yeah! Great. Thank you so much, Una—”

“Get out already, Teba. This place is for the sick and injured. Not the…” she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, “awkward, and alive. Both of which are actually quite surprising to see from you…”

He managed to give a weak mix of a scoff and a nervous laugh before promptly leaving.

Descending the many steps of Rito village, Teba’s mind raced with thoughts.

Just gotta not fuck up one conversation. Just a simple question! Just...quick little hang out...thing. Yeah. Yep. I can do that. She’s seen me blabber worse when I’m unconscious, so what’s one sober conversation. I’ve killed things! Why am I even stumbling over a few words? Tsk. Yeah. I’ve seen monsters and beasts and blood and blades, I've got this. This is doable, I can do this.

He suddenly bumped into a pink colored Rito at one of the turns, and she laughed as she fumbled with the honeycomb and butter held in her arms.

“Oh my! Well, good morning, Teba.”

I can’t do this.

“And where are you off to this lovely morning?” Saki tilted her head curiously, to which Teba’s eyes immediately dilated.

“…uh…I…” Was it just him or were her feathers slightly fluffier than usual? “I just wanted to…say hi.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well.” She gave him a cheerful wave with a free wing, clutching her ingredients close to her chest. “Hi!”

“Y-Yeah. Hi…” Teba just stood there as Saki continued walking up the stairs behind him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck do something, idiot I don’t have—

“Actually Teba…” Saki suddenly turned back around to face him. He quickly leaned a wing against the railing to seem casual. “If you’re not doing anything right now…do you mind helping me with something?”

Teba felt like he responded just a bit too quick. “Yes! Definitely. I can do that.” He coughed, and held out a wing. “You want me to hold something for you?”

She beamed. “Yes! Come on.” She shifted her baking ingredients in one wing, and used her free wing to hold his. Saki dragged him along as their feathers intertwined. Teba’s soul immediately left the mortal realm and his physical body was left stumbling and sputtering.

“WAIT! I—I DIDN’T MEAN! UH—I MEAN SURE— IF YOU’RE OK—BUT THIS ISN’T—”

“I have something heating up upstairs, so hurry along now.” She spoke quickly, not really having the extra confidence to look him in the eyes. But at this point they could both feel each other’s feathers poof as they held wings.

Carrying a mix of honey, Tabantha wheat, and butter, they both eventually made their way to the public kitchen where a fire was roaring.

Teba started grumbling apologies, but Saki cut him off by shoving a wood spoon and a bowl into his chest.

“Your rebellious nature won’t apply to cookbooks, yes?”

And with that, they got to it. Teba’s mind was still processing the events of fifteen minutes ago so while he stared blankly at Saki, he struggled to do the basic task of mixing.

“Here,” she held his wing and adjusted his grip on the spoon. If she wasn’t a pink Rito she might have blushed. “Try not to fling the batter out the window.”

They both started to gain just a bit more confidence as they continued working. Teba started to tease Saki a bit as he held the bowl with the salmon filling above her.

“What’s one little taste? It’s all gonna be eaten at the end, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare, it’s still raw!”

“Just one little dip.”

“If you stick one dirty little feather in that bowl I swear I’ll—”

Teba continued trying to dance around her, but she eventually got it back after a quick whack in the head with a spoon.

The morning flew above them, and the shades of a blue day were laced with clouds of white. The shadows of the hut spun across the floor like a spell. Eventually, the aroma of savoury fish with hints of butter filled the air. Teba grabbed a fork.

“This Get-Well pie was for me, yeah? So let me just—” Saki slapped his wing.

“Not yet, gosh.” She stole his utensil. “You forgot the most important part!”

Saki pressed the edge of the fork on the plain face of the fish pie, giving the little fishy a simple, honest grin.

“There!”

“That’s a bit creepy.”

“What?! No…it’s cute! A joyful little fish!”

“You know that this is just gonna be decapitated by me, yeah?”

“It’s about the sentiment, Teba. Hush.”

True to his word, Teba used a knife to take the first bite, decapitating the little creature. Stuffing his beak, his eyes immediately lit up. The flaky crust paired perfectly with the soft meat, the taste and texture beyond amazing.

Saki tilted her head, curious. “Well? How is it?”

“Mmmbfhbgm. Myeah. Yum.”

She clapped. “Oh I’m glad! I actually ignored the ratio a bit and put a bit more butter, so it’s good that that worked out.”

“What happened to following the instructions and rules?”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her wings over her chest, playfully. “I don’t know… What happened to that priceless journal from Master Revali that was found to be missing from records a few days ago?”

“Damn. Fair enough, then.”

Saki suddenly gasped. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry I completely forgot about the time. You usually sneak off to practice Master Revali’s techniques by now, don’t you?” She went to grab a napkin. “Here, you can wrap this up and take it to the Flight Range, I didn’t mean to keep you for so—”

Teba went to grab one of her wings. “Hey hey! It’s ok. I’m still supposed to keep off the wing anyway, right?”

Saki scoffed, but didn’t pull away. “Oh, like you’ve been following that…”

“Better late than never?”

“Mhmm…”

Teba finally let go, and they stood in front of each other for a bit. Saki played with the curls of her hair, avoiding his gaze. Teba felt his feathers fluff up again, as he mumbled something.

“Hmm?” She looked up.

“Oh. I…didn’t say anything.”

“Ah, Right.” She looked away.

Fuck.

The warrior struggled to find the right words. In an effort to do anything but stay silent, he went to hold her wing again. Both of their feathers immediately floofed in response.

“S-Sorry. I should have—”

“No, it’s alright.” She kept his grip. “It’s alright.”

They both looked in opposite directions, Teba coughed again while Saki fiddled with her hair. The warrior continued screaming in his own mind, begging for some form of suitable and understandable words to come out of his beak. When he turned to speak, Saki cut him off with a soft smile.

“You know, Teba. You don’t have to say anything.”

His beak opened and closed for a few moments, confused. Finally he settled on his thoughts. “Can I try?”

She nodded. “If you really want to.”

Saki wrapped her wings around his shoulders, looking up at him expectantly. When he looked into her eyes, all he could feel was the embrace of a summer’s wind. It was blue. Cerulean. Perhaps teal, or a comparison of sapphire. There was a romantic simile in the world somewhere that he didn’t bother to find.

This close, he could see her eyes dilate, and count small imperfections on her beak. Teba stood as still as ice, before breathing out a bit in relief. He allowed himself to smile, and held her hips and swayed to some unknown rippling melody. Perhaps for just this moment, he accepted it. His words didn’t matter as his gaze lit up sweet and gold and honey. Finally, as they swayed and danced in warmth, the sun to the sky said,

“You look nice.”

[sleep-i-ness]

Did You Miss Me? (Missy x reader)

Blurb: It has been six years since you last saw her. Six long, lonely years since the Doctor had dropped you off at your apartment without so much as a word of goodbye.

Taglist: @kjaneway1​

It was pitiful weather, the morning the Doctor came knocking. You remembered it precisely because it had been tipping it down outside, droplets splattering against the pavement and branches of the cherry tapping frantically against the window. Catching sight of the dark, heavy clouds blotting out the sky, you hadn’t been able to keep yourself from groaning at the meagre light illuminating the grey London streets. You were mourning the loss of your favourite umbrella (destroyed by the gale-force winds yesterday) and therefore could predict the inevitable destruction to your hair during your commute to work. You’d been considering calling in sick, musing over whether it was worth it as your hands delved into the suds-filled water, when you were interrupted by a loud rapping at the front door. Who on earth would be calling at 7am?

“I’m coming, I’m coming, give me a second,” you grumbled as you rushed from the kitchen, discarding the tea towel to one side. Wrenching the door open (it had become stiff as the wood had swelled with the cold), you were greeted with a dripping Doctor. You half-contemplated closing the door on him then and there.

“May I come in?” He waltzed in, shaking himself like a wet dog in your hallway and you frowned.

“Make yourself at home,” you murmured dryly, grabbing the spare jumper you kept in the coat cupboard just for him. It had been an old fleece of your dad’s, a remnant of the past that you weren’t quite sure you should hold onto. You’d contemplated chucking it out the last time you’d done a spring clean but some small part of you had hoped the Doctor would return. It seemed your hopes had been realised but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing anymore.

Bustling round the kettle, you filled it up for two, grabbing a couple of mugs from the overhead shelf. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been sat where he was now, at the island table, flipping through a trashy magazine from last April and simultaneously glancing around at the knick-knacks and post-cards up on the walls. He was silent, a permanent frown etched into his skin, but that, you supposed, was his new face. You still weren’t completely used to it. Although, he did suit grey and Scottish; it gave him the gravity that his last regeneration somewhat lacked.

“You’ve changed the place up a bit.” The Doctor noted, fiddling with the doily covering the sugar bowl before moving on and turning over the small figurine, a memento from your life before her. You glanced over worriedly as he hesitated too long over it, before shaking his head and moving onto the next trinket. “A lot more… stuff.”

“Thank you.”

The hiss of the kettle distracted you, and you were thankful for it, for it broke the awkward need for small talk hanging in the air. You poured the bubbling water over the tea bags, stirring gently, before automatically tipping a spoonful of sugar into his mug.

“Here.” You pushed his across the table, before leaning back against the cupboard. Sipping at your tea, you sighed. “Now what do you want, Doctor?”

His bushy eyebrows shot up in response before he chuckled. “Always straight to the point. I’d forgotten how much I missed that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Enough with the dancing around the topic, Doctor. What are you here for? I haven’t seen you in 6 years, not since you dumped me straight back to my apartment.”

He’d saved you, or at least that’s what you had assured yourself. The cheesy warmth you had felt when looking at her; the soft smile barely twitching at her lips as you waltzed around Louis XIV’s ballroom; the adventures she’d dragged you on despite your various protestations; the night under the stars when she… No. How could you forget the days, weeks, maybe even months trapped under her watch? On display in a cage for her to mock your silly human bravery. The destruction that had ravaged your planet, the one place you’d hoped you’d be safe from the Doctor and anyone else who would have been looking for you. The way she’d laughed at the tears streaming down your face as you surrendered yourself to prevent the slaughter of your people.

If it weren’t for the Doctor, you would never have escaped. You would never have reached this safety, no matter how alone you now were.

“She’s asked after you again.”

You laughed bitterly. Of course, she had. What didn’t she understand about the fact that her joyful revelling in your pain meant that you never wanted to see her again? “No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” He protested,

“I didn’t have to. I’m not going.”

“Why? What is her obsession with you? And why are you so firmly against seeing her once?”

“Is it not enough that she is a complete and utter psycho? That she massacred millions for sport?” You placed your hands firmly on the countertop, inhaling deeply through your nose. Your voice was low when you spoke again. “Doctor, I don’t care if it’ll help her become a good person. I’m not going. And if that’s all, you know where the door is.”

His eyebrows furrowed, like two great white caterpillars crawling towards each other, and you maintained your hard stare. No matter the face, he’d always managed to tug on your heartstrings and make you change your mind. But not today. This was something you would not budge on.

:.

You weren’t sure what you were doing here, hovering anxiously by the doors. Unwilling to take another step and commit yourself to this. His TARDIS hadn’t changed a day since you last stepped out of it; sure, the company she carried had altered, but, at her very core, you could feel that she was still the same. She hummed at you, an impatient sounding noise and you scowled. You’d forgotten how annoying having a somewhat opinionated ship was when she could read your every thought.

The Doctor had headed on in before you, confirming that you would follow him after collecting your thoughts. The door swung open in front of you, the soft orange glow of the core spilling out. The TARDIS took your breath away every time you stepped into it; your brain had never quite processed the concept of it being bigger on the inside. Circles covered the walls in an ordered pattern, glowing palely and Gallifreyan symbols decorated the console, inscribed onto the concentric rings.

Hesitating, you brushed your fingertips over the TARDIS’ console, feeling the reassuring buzz she sent you. You could see a flicker of purple fabric from where you stood and you made eye contact with him, noting the smug twinkle. Cocky prick.

Heading down the ramp to the lower level to join him – them, each step felt like a chore as if weights had been tied to your legs. You were dreading this, a deep unsettling sensation twisting your guts. The purple jacket came fully into view and you froze.

No.

“I just need to go check on the TARDIS’ engine. The old girl’s been complaining ever since she travelled into the other dimension,” the Doctor spilt out excuses, striding past you with a pat on the back. Forcing you to talk to her. You silently cursed him and sent him your harshest glare.

The familiar Victorian silhouette spun round, eyes following him up the ramp until they fell on you. Her grin faltered. “Well, look who’s turned up. Your punctuality really is shocking, pet.”

You raised a tentative hand in response, crinkling your features into a grimace. “Hey Missy,” Your voice was weak and rough sounding, even to your own ears.

She stalked closer, raising her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your left ear. Your breath caught in your throat, every nerve burning. The rough wool of her blazer gently scratched your skin, her thumb caressing the top of your cheekbone. Pulling away, she stepped back, the sudden distance feeling like you had been doused in icy water.

“A thousand years,” Missy mused, continuing to circle you slowly. Her poison-red lips pursed, eyes narrowing as she took you in. “You really have let yourself go to waste. What happened to those lovely royal robes? The red was very flattering.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, screwing your eyes shut. Why had you expected anything different? She hadn’t changed one bit.

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” Your voice cracked and you willed your eyes to stop watering, swiping at them. “No. I’m not doing this, this is ridiculous.”

You made to turn, so very sick of her. Every breath felt laboured, a stone pressing down onto your chest, compressing your lungs. You couldn’t bear to look at her, to see her smug joy at bringing you down once again. Her hand snapped round your wrist, yanking you close into her chest.

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” she murmured, breath fanning your cheeks. Missy pressed a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose, smirking as she leant back. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

You scoffed, trying to tear yourself out of her grip but her fingers were clamped too tightly. Damn Time Lady strength. You chuckled bitterly. “Now, tell me why I would ever miss you.”

At that, Missy wavered, realising, for the first time, that you weren’t going to fall straight back into her arms. Confusion flickered across her features before she smoothed out her brow. “Why wouldn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that teeny-tiny incident on Midanithair.”

“Teeny-tiny incident?” You spluttered, an ever-growing uncomfortable feeling sinking into your stomach. Your mouth tasted bitter, acrid as you swallowed harshly. “God, Missy, get your head out of your arse and actually remember what happened. I had finally escaped from all of... this when you came along, wreaking havoc and destruction and threatening genocide if I didn’t sacrifice myself. And then you mocked me for weeks for my ‘humanity’.”

You exhaled through your nose before breaking free from her grip. “I’m sorry, Miss, I really… just can’t right now.”

You could feel her gaze trailing you as you headed back up the ramp, making eye contact once again with the Doctor, an odd sense of déjà vu passing over you as he raised an eyebrow. You paused at the top of the ramp; eyes firmly fixed on the doors. Part of you wanted her to call you back, show you that she truly had cared. But the rational, logical side of you knew that this was for the best.

You nodded, trying desperately to convince yourself to walk out that door and never look back.

“Wait.”

And with that, you knew you’d be putty in her hands once again.

“What?” Your tone was harsher than you had expected, and Missy genuinely looked upset. The dull stab of guilt was a gentle pang, your heart twinging empathetically.

“I’m sorry. I truly am.”

You started to walk back to her, stopping a metre in front of her. “Why should I believe you?”

“I’ve apologised, is that not enough?” Her accent grew thicker as she grew more flustered. She’d never had to apologise sincerely before. “And… I realised that your presence was not as much of a nuisance as I had previously believed.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, barely louder than a whisper. You stifled a laugh, knowing that was the closest to a sentiment of affection you’d ever receive from her. Brash, arrogant compliments were more her thing, the cockiness hiding any deeper level of emotion.

Almost timidly, she reached out to you and you let her pull you in. Falling limply into her arms, you smiled softly as one of her hands came up to stroke your hair.

“I did miss you, Miss. Promise.”

[timeforelfnonsense]

The Bargain

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M 

Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series  

I want to add a TW up here: The first half of this fic depicts Astarion having a panic attack/being in fight or flight. The portrayal was informed by my own struggles with BPD and panic attacks. I think it's important to remember our responses to trauma are often flawed and imperfect. It was very cathartic for me to write tbh. I'm very proud of this one and I think a lot of Dafni's character really shines through! This one has a good bit of canon d&d lore mixed with some homebrew/folklore about the fey (WotC pls feed me more feywilds canon I am DESPERATE for it!). Elvish Translations (via candle keep): arael’sha: Heart-friend (used in contexts like beloved or my heart) The stars shining right through your eyes: A common elvish idiom referring to one's youth or naiveté.

A gust of wind blew through the putrid bog carrying the damp, acrid smell of rotten vegetation and sulfuric swamp water. The gray, splintered walls of the tea house groaned, the top half of the gnarled structure swaying. It was shocking the poor construction of the ramshackle hovel hadn’t killed the hag for them. Astarion had made his way to the small alcove hung above the crumbling foyer hoping to find his paramour. He felt his heart sink when he was met with nothing but the witch's clutter. Astarion rocked on his heels. There was something deeply wrong with this place, even with Ethel dead. Oppressive energy hung on the stale air. Filling the whole space with an undoubted misery that left him feeling raw and exposed.

Deep down you like being leashed, don't ya?

Gale and Wyll had begun to make themselves at home below him. He observed them as they languidly poked about, looking for anything of the hag’s that would be of use. Wyll had already summoned a raven to send back to camp, a note attached to its foot informing the others that they wouldn’t make it back for the evening. The old bat had not given up without a fight and they’d been left battered and exhausted. Astarion winced, his arm brushing against the wall.

He was bleeding. Fantastic.

He had been too preoccupied with the feelings this place drew out of him to notice the long gash running down the top of his forearm. Ethel had tried to drag him to the gaping chasm at the center of her abode when the fight was no longer in her favor. He had struggled and thrashed against her but she only dug her twisted claws in deeper. She’d nearly succeeded in pitching him over when a fatal arrow from Dafni’s longbow sunk into her eye with a wet squelch, exiting the back of her skull.

He already felt like shit from being tossed about by a hag and that discomfort was only compounded by the growing need for a drink. The scorch of thirst started to lick at the back of his throat. He must have been bleeding into his sleeve for some time. His body was eager to replace what was lost.

Is there still rat stuck in your teeth? Slave!

Perhaps Dafni would allow him a little nibble. Just the thought of the sweet strawberry wine in her veins eased some of the discomforts. Astarion pressed his back against a hideous wardrobe, sliding down until his backside hit the ground. He had made a point of exercising restraint when it came to drinking from her. He never wanted her to be under the impression she was only a meal to him. But he was famished and she was his favorite treat.

You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone!

Or maybe not...

There had to be something else edible nearby. He took in a deep breath only to be met with the nauseating scent of an overripe corpse. He coughed and sputtered, forcing the repugnant smell from his lungs. Any thirst he might have had was chased off by the gut-twisting aroma. It seemed he wouldn’t be taking a breath for the rest of the night. While his undead nature freed him from the necessity of breathing he’d always been partial to it. The feeling of his chest moving up and down had served as a steadfast reminder he wasn’t  truly  dead despite all he had endured at Cazador’s hand.

Vampire? Ha! You’re nothing but a ravenous cadaver, spawn!

“You bastard! You ruined it- You ruined everything!” Mayrina squawked.

“Are you daft! I helped you!” Dafni spat back.

Well, he found her.

It would seem Dafni’s damsel in distress was none too pleased with her would-be hero. Astarion groaned, bringing his head to his knees. He was agitated as it was and the squabble happening outside was only making the tightness in his chest worse. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to tune them out. Astarion grit his teeth, the pain in his arm was growing more acute by the minute and the strange magic of this shithole had his nerves ragged. His body jolted at the crack of a hand against flesh ringing out across the yard outside followed by a string of elven cursing. A torrent harrowing memories shot through his brain as the appalling noise hit his ear. The simmering dread morphing into fury. A low growl fell from his snarling lips as he tore down the stairs towards the yard.

“The hag promised she’d bring my husband back from the grave if I gave her my baby! I just needed to wait a little longer but you had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong!”

“You promised your child to a hag? You do know hags devour babies, yes? They swallow them whole and within a week the child is reborn a hag daughter.” Dafni’s yelped as Mayrina‘s palm came down across her cheek. She brought a hand to the stinging flesh in disbelief. Foxglove bells dripped from her battle messed hair, hot summer rage threatening to boil over. She took a deep breath in attempting to soothe her nerves but her soundings did little to help. The magic that covered this swamp, was arcane and wild- Much the same as dark and forbidden places in her home plane. Hags often built their homes in places where the barrier between the material and faerie was thin enough for fools from both planes to seek them out. It was unsurprising the shadowy influence of the hag had mingled with the magic of a crossing to create a bubble of negativity. It was likely provoking more extreme reactions from the already distressed woman. “I understand you are upset, but my patience is growing thin. I am only trying to help you. I’m no stranger to hags. They are creatures of my homeland and I can assure you there is always a greater price. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Don’t you judge me! You can’t possibly understand-” Mayrina sobbed raising her open palm for another strike only to her wrist caught in the iron grasp of Astarion’s alabaster hand.

Oh no.

“You foul little wrench!” Astarion’s voice was acid, his teeth bared, “She saved your miserable life and you dare raise your filthy hand to her? I have half a mind to tear your throat out but that seems kinder than you deserve.”

Dafni’s heart was pumping a mile a minute. She’d seen Astarion cross but this was completely different. Astarion’s body was completely rigged. His shoulders forward, back straight. His red eyes glowed with ferocity as his grip on Mayrina tightened. Normally when he was upset he’d get stroppy or belligerent. He’d needle the target of his disapproval with snide remarks until they were as frustrated as he was. He could be rather rude and bab tounged when he felt like it but it was always a cool, controlled vexation. This was unfettered wrath far stronger than Mayrina’s actions had earned.

“I-I’m sorry!” Mayrina uttered with a shaking breath, “Please, let me go!”

“Why?” He snarled, cocking his head to the side, “So you can attempt to strike my beloved a third time?”

“Please, arael’sha, let her go…” Dafni wrapped her hand around his shoulder, her eyes soft and concerned, “I’m fine. She shouldn’t have hit me but I’m in no danger from her and you know that.”

“Fine.” He shot her a loathsome look but yielded to her request, tossing Mayrina’s hand with disgust, “You and your gods damned bleeding-heart. Let the shrew disrespect you if you’d like. I don’t care.” Astarion turned on his heels staking back into the tea house his fists balled tight at his side.

Dafni nibbled her lower lip, her fingers worrying the hem of her sleeves. Astarion had made himself scarce after the incident with Mayrina. It upset her to see him so distressed. Her instinct had been to tear after him when he stormed off. But, she knew him well enough to understand he would need space and time to calm down before they discussed it. Any attempt to talk to him before that would only serve to upset him even more. She made herself busy tending to her friends in the meantime. They had a few injuries but nothing she couldn’t patch up. She might have been too worn out for magic but Ethel had kept a decent supply of herbs and tonics for her less exotic ‘lotions and potions’ that would do nicely. She even found a few things worth snagging for her own medical kit back at camp. If they had to be stranded for the night, at least it was somewhere well stocked.

Gale had a burn on his arm she’d treated with a salve of aloe and quince. Wyll a nasty knock to the head, that while painful, by the Protector’s grace, didn’t appear to be a concussion. She’d put on a kettle of willow bark tea and instructed him to drink at least two cups of the stuff as soon as it was ready. She had done all she could for now. More than anything they both seemed fatigued. With a little rest, they’d be on the mend.

The worn staircase creaked under her weight as she made her way to the second level of the house. Astarion sat on the splintering floor, his back propped up against a cluttered cupboard. His scarlet eyes glassy and fixed on a far off point. He was clutching the top of his right forearm. Between his fingers, Dafni could make out a tell-tale dark stain of red on his sleeve.

“You are hurt!” She gasped racing to his side, “Why didn’t you fetch me! Let me clean and bandage that for you.”

“Don’t touch me.” His voice came out in a low growl as he twisted away from her.

Dafni took a step away, her hands held up. “I won’t touch you without your consent but I need to tend to your arm soon. I’m worried about you.”

“Why should I want your help?” He glared at her arm still held tight against his chest. “You certainly don’t want mine.”

Dafni let out an exacerbated exhale, “Is this about what happened earlier?”

“No, it’s about you and your compulsive need to martyr yourself at every chance! It is foolhardy, reckless, and incredibly selfish! You can be so juvenile- The stars shining right through your eyes! And I can’t always be there to mind you, Dafni! Today it was just a slap but one day you are going to try and save the wrong person and I’m going to find you bled out in an outer city gutter or worse!” He was scolding her in earnest now. His bottled-up feelings coming out in a torrid of icy words. “Is rushing into other people’s disasters to prove to mommy and the gods you are a big girl really worth it? ”

“I do tend to put the needs of others before my own” She admitted, “Oftentimes to my own detriment but, please, don't talk to me as if I am a misbehaving child.” Dafni kept her tone calm and even as she continued, “I care for you and I can tell you are feeling overwhelmed. I want to support you but I can’t do that unless you help me understand what’s going on?”

They sat in silence for a while. His lean frame was closed off and wound tight. As if he was prepared to bolt at the slightest disruption of his already fragile state. An anxious tremble coursing through him every few moments. He refused to face her but Dafni could have sworn she saw the wet shimmer of tears forming in his eyes.

“My patience was already rather thin and then I heard that insolent twit strike you…” He spoke at last, finally met her gaze with an absolutely despondent expression. “And something just snapped in me.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that shouting. I’m sure listening to her smack the daylights out of me wasn’t pleasant for you. Especially when you were already feeling uneasy.” Dafni said as she slowly brought her head to rest on his shaking shoulder. Astarion dropped a smidge of tension from his body as he buried his face in her roseate, satin-soft curls. His breathing grew more steady by the second. She could sense the storm of his disquiet coming to an end. “I want you to know I appreciate you standing up for me. I might not have agreed with the method but I know your heart was in the right place.” She hesitated, “Can I ask you a question?”

He gave her an uncertain look but nodded, “If you’d like to.”

“Do you feel like it’s your job to protect me?”

He shifted a bit his eyes darting away as his good arm rubbed the nape of this neck. His body language all but screamed the answer but he was clearly still trying to craft a response. “Sometimes. Is that a satisfactory response?”

“Hmm?” Dafni mused, “If you elaborate, yes.”

“Why?” The word came at a long, petulant whine. His brows were knit tight, “I answered the question, did I not?”

Dafni brushed a delicate finger along the straight line of his ear. She smiled as a shiver of delight ran throughout him. A faint flush made its way across the bridge of his nose and to his cheeks. So light you’d miss it if you didn’t know what to look for. “Humor me?”

“I don’t like seeing people hurt you.” He said toying with a stray tendril of her hair, “You always see the best in everyone and everything. The world is full of malefactors who would be more than happy to take advantage of that and for some reason, beyond my control, I’ve decided keeping you happy and whole is just as important to my survival as my own well being.” He groaned pinching the space between his brows with the hand of his unmarred arm, “So you see my motivations are far from selfless. Happy?”

Dafni tried to will the bright grin that threatened to take shape across her lips away. Worried she might frighten him off with her enthusiasm. “Your elaboration was sufficient.” She tittered, no longer suppressing her smile. Her eyes shimmering with mirth as she spoke, “I have an idea! How about we strike a bargain?”

Astarion’s mouth quirked with a warm smile of his own, “Wasn’t it the dangers of fey bargains that caused this mess in the first place?”

“Yes, but I am no hag and I’ll give my word to say only what I mean. No tricks. Creatures of Faerie are bound by our word, we never go back on a promise once given.” She explained, “Now, I respect you far too much to lie and say I’ll stop helping people when I think they need it but, I, Dafni Ríwen of Gwynneth, Daughter of Thesmia Ríwen, cleric of blessed Corellon Larethina give you, Astarion of Baldur's Gate my word that I will try to pick my battles rather than jumping in headfirst at every opportunity. In exchange, I ask that you treat me as your equal from now. I watch your back and you watch mine. We protect each other. Always. Do we have a deal?”

“I can agree to that.”

With a bargain struck between them she leaned in close brushing her lips against his cheek, a gentle tingle of magic, sweet as spring spreading through them both. “Now, I insist you give me that arm. You might like the smell of blood but to me, it reeks of iron.” With a half-hearted laugh, he relinquished the injured arm to her at last. Drat. Was nothing simple? The gash was much deeper than she’d thought it to be. “ Hmmm, this will need stitches, unfortunately. At least until I can rest and heal you with magic. I’ll need to boil some more cloth for bandages and find a needle in this mess.” Dafni procured a small flask of pale yellow liquid from her pack, a bit strong for such a simple procedure but with his, she didn’t want to retrigger his fight or flight by stabbing him with whatever dull needle she could scrounge up. “In the meantime take a  very  small nip of this. It’s a bit of poppy syrup diluted with dandelion wine for the pain and nerves. Drink up. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Dafni made her way back downstairs creating a list of supplies in her mind: She’d need to boil some cloth in witch hazel for dressing, a steel needle, and thread, alcohol to clean the wound, something to keep everything clean and safe while she worked in the filthy alcove...

When Dafni returned she found Astarion lounging rather contently with a lazy grin on his beautiful face. She had told him to take only a small nip! Oh well, at least he’d sit still for her. She sat back down, carefully placing the silver tray of makeshift medical supplies beside her.

“This stuff is great, Daffodil!” He chuckled, swirling the remainder of her laudanum around the flask.

“A nip, Astarion. A nip! Now give me that.” She scolded, snatching the glass bottle from his loose grip. He only laughed, completely bemused by her annoyance. “Alright, I’m going to clean out the cut with some alcohol. It might sting a bit.” Dafni explained, rolling her eyes, “Though I hardly think you’ll notice in this state.”

He winced a bit as the alcohol came in contact with his flesh, his nose scrunching up in displeasure but he sat otherwise stone still. Methodically, she began the work of suturing his arm. He was very lucky she’d been able to bum a needle and thread off Gale otherwise she would have been forced to get creative.

“You are a cleric. Doesn't daddy Corellon grant you all kinds of healing power? Why did you bother to learn how to mend people without magic?”

“Ok, first off  please  do not refer to the divine being that created our people as ‘daddy’ ever again.” She shook her head with a giggle all the while continuing her task, “Secondly, I learned because of situations just like this one. Magic takes a lot of energy. I can’t just cast unlimited healing spells and the wilds can be dangerous. I never wanted to find myself in a situation when I was unable to care for myself or my sisters. Besides, I needed something to study while they and my mother worked on their wizardry.”

“I want to know something else. Why did you let that fool girl get away with slapping you?”

Dafni mulled the thought over for a bit as she finished the final stitch, snipping the thread with a pair of sewing shears she fully intended to steal. “Because I felt sorry for her. She had clearly already suffered enough without my vengeance. Humans live such fleeting lives, Astarion. They are over before our people even reach adulthood. They experience so much loss and decay in such little time. I think it can make them blind to the long term implications of their choices.”

“I still think you should have let me kill her for disrespecting you.” He shrugged, “But I suppose I can understand your thinking.”

“As I said, she’s suffered more than her fair share. But I appreciate the sentiment.” She gathered a length of linen, winding it snugly over his arm. “All done! You were a model patient!” She teased before adding with sincerity, “I hope that wasn’t too bad.”

“It wasn’t bad at all. Thank you. For everything.” He paused for a beat, his eyes falling to the well-worn floorboards, “You are the first person to treat me like a man in a very long time. You make it easy to forget I’m an undead horror. I’m eternally grateful for you even if I’m not the best at expressing that.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that Astarion.” She scowled, “It hurts my heart when you say things like that about yourself. We might not always see eye to eye and I won’t lie, you can be an absolute pain in my backside. But you will always be a person to me. Never a monster.”

“Always so sweet.” He sighed, slumping against her shoulder, nuzzling his favorite spot in the hollow of her neck. “I wish I understood you. All that time and I don’t think I’ve ever really understood you- how you can be so... good. Yet, frustratingly you’ve always seemed to understand me better than I understand myself.”

He spoke with an unmistakable familiarity, far beyond that which they’d formed over the past few days. Their people lived many lives. Longing to return to Corellon’s side in Arvandor but unable to as punishment for confining themselves to a single shape. Two elves could find each other in more than one lifetime. It was far from unheard of.

The Feywilds did funny things to a person's memory if they weren’t used to its magic. Even affecting the reverie of those from other lands who spent time among their eladrin cousins. The crossing or the magic of her bargain could possibly have provoked things long forgotten.

Or he was simply three sheets to the wind.

Regardless it was refreshing to have such a candid conversation with him. Free of affectation or pretense. Even if he was almost certainly going to forget all of it and be right back to his cocksure self by morning.

“I disagree.” She stated, “I think you understand me better than you think. You’re just a little out of practice when it comes to letting people close to you. You didn’t ask but, as I’m positive you’ll forget this little talk by tomorrow, I also want to add that I think you are secretly very sensitive. I’ve also seen the puppy eyes you give me when you think I’m not looking. Totally adorable! You are just afraid to let people see that side of you.”

“Puppy eyes?” He chuckled nipping softly at her throat, “I think I preferred thinking you were scared of me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetness.” She tuted placing a light peck on his forehead, “You need to rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Oh, my darling, Despoena.” He muttered exhausted against her shoulder. “It was so lonely here without you. I’m glad you found me at last.”  

Dafni’s heart stopped dead in its tracks.

How?

He named her.

The memories of one’s primal life were lost after their first century. Leaving only glimmers and fragments behind. For the fey eladrin, true names- The names they had carried when they sprung from the blood of the Creator, were the most sacred and personal of those precious among them. Names held power in the land of Faerie but none so much as a soul’s true name. They were not to be shared with even the closest of loved ones, and yet in his haze, Astarion somehow knew?

“Astarion… I’ve never told anyone my true name. Not even my mother knows it. How did you know it? And what do you mean by ‘I’m glad you found me’? Are you having some kind of waking reverie or are you just high out of your mind? I’m a little taken back- And you are snoring. Great. You blurt out my only true secret and then it's off to Sehanine Moonbow with you.”

As desperately as she wanted to puzzle out the evening's events she was tired in mind and body. The others had already settled in for the night and she’d be wise to do the same. She settled herself in for trance, Astarion’s head on her shoulder, his hand intertwined with hers. Praying her reverie might provide some answers.  

[windstormwielding]

Slipstream

「 ...Hatchling. 」

“...haven’t heard your gruff old voice in some time.” Kōtarō’s posture straightened when he heard his blade address him. For an instant, it felt like the old shack that made for his childhood home and present surroundings blinked out, and he found himself pulled back into the sea of clouds that made for his inner world.

It was only for an instant, but the sight stuck with the Lieutenant all the same: the sky above him there wasn’t a clear, sunny blue. Clouds, ones at his feet and ones on high, were a charged black, threatening to burst with lightning and roar thunder at any given moment, and moving overhead and below with speed.

「 11 years will have passed soon. 」

“...yeah.” Now that was a comment from his projected instinct Kōta felt he could have done without, leaning back against the old wall and letting out a huff that came out more tired than he intended. It was one thing that he already trained himself ragged, with newer, deeper scars torn into the earth and cliffside alike outside proving as such, but while he would’ve appreciated hearing the often silent Hai’iro Ranmaru speak, it was another to be casually reminded of the looming anniversary of the Great Soul King Protection War.

Reiō, he always hated that name for it. They were more fighting for their own lives, their survival as a collective, than that of a faceless, nameless lynchpin. While Kōtarō found it easier to process those events in the decade-plus since, remembrance still stung. Fear and helplessness unlike anything he felt. Losing too many relationships in one fell swoop than can ever be counted. The death of the one man he respected and looked up to most, whom he only wanted to make proud one more time before his untimely demise. Oh how distraught he had been, in repressing the resulting despair as much as he could and sinking himself into his work, into bettering himself in case-

「 Why? 」

“W-why what?”

「 Why do you remain grounded? 」

“Ranmaru, we’ve been at it here since morning,” the windstorm wielder pointed out, even going so far as to jab a thumb toward the sunset-hued sky outside for his mentally aboding partner. It was rare that he had an entire day to himself, and of course he spent it dedicating in refining his skills and abilities with nigh bullheaded obsession, but he intended on returning to the Seireitei once he recovered enough of his strength. “We can get back into it later in the week, can’t we?”

「 That is not what I meant. 」

Oh here we go with the cryptic gotchas. Returning his thumb so that he may drag his hand, palm and digits, down his face, Kōta paused before he opted to take the bait: “So if it’s not me taking a break, then what?”

「 Why are you not honest? 」

“Wh- Excuse me?!” Maybe it was the exhaustion talking when his own voice rose, but those words still touched on a nerve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

「 You first chose to carry this burden in the name of a man who has not walked among you, not for the last 11 years. 」

“Okay, don’t you dare bring Captain Ukitake into this.” His tone turned as sharp as steel at the comment, and his reiatsu threatened to flare in turn. It was not long after Aizen’s arrest that Kōta made such a pledge to his late commander, to be of better use to him and the 13th in the future, but it was the absolute last thing he wished to recall.

Still, as bitter as he felt, he knew Hai’iro Ranmaru was correct.

“Shit.” How cruelly that memory aged, from an ignorant and hopeful 4th Seat who saw not the storm on the horizon. Hell, none of them saw it coming. The shinigami in question felt his back ease against the wall he sat against, all while mulling over bygone times.

「 So what reason do you have to still seek such power now? 」

The answer to that is obvious, no?

“Rukia... She’s going to need me to back her up. I have a whole Division to look after now as Captain Kuchiki’s right hand. The newest Captain and Lieutenant pair. All eyes of the Gotei 13 will be on us. I can’t afford to slack off just yet.

“...I’ll need to be at my best.”

And for his answer, all he received was a dismissive scoff from the elder voice in his mind.

「 You lie to yourself. 」

“Lying to myself?” Here Kōtarō thought he was being forthright, yet his blade’s accusation came with a gale creaking the wood of the hut from the outside, as though wind itself was objecting to his questioning.

「 You pursue power because you are afraid. 」 

The claim spurned the Lieutenant into trying to deny it, but however he tried to raise his voice, any attempt at a sentence died almost as soon as it left his throat. What could he say to convince his own id otherwise? Not five minutes ago, his thoughts still lingered on a conflict over a decade past; Hai’iro Ranmaru naturally would have thought it too.

“Well don’t you have me all figured out, jī-chan,” he finally answered, letting a defeated smile sit on his countenance.

「 There is no shame in such an act. 」

“In what, pursuing power out of fear?”

「 In figuring you out. 」

A snort broke from the swordsman at the bluntly delivered remark, and with it, so did the tension between himself and the spirit of his weapon.

“Pfeh. That too, then.” 

With that, the pair allowed silence to reign between themselves. The clouds hanging high over Kusajishi seemed to rumble, ready to dispense with rainwater it had built up for several days of aridity with the coming summer season.

It only took moments for the first droplets to fall, pelting the roof little by little until a full shower began in earnest. A satisfied sigh left the soul reaper as he closed his eyes and focused on his other senses, taking in the soothing sound of rainfall and the building smell of petrichor from the outdoors.

Ranmaru’s presence, meanwhile, still lingered in his mindscape, seeming to enjoy the outside weather along with his wielder.

“...it’s been fun, though.”

「 Fun? 」

“Hm.” Kōta nodded to themselves as he sought to piece his thoughts together, while reflecting on more recent history for a change. “Over the last several years. All those techniques and manoeuvres? I wasn’t capable of half of that before we started training so seriously.”

「 Getting stronger... brings you pleasure? 」

“If you want to put it so starkly, then sure, I guess.” A low chuckle broke from Ryōhei younger before he continued. “It also means I understand you—and us—better in the long run, doesn’t it? I’d call it fun.”

「 Hm... I suppose it does, hatchling. 」

“I don’t know, I just... I want to keep flying. Higher, and higher still, until I can’t see the earth at my feet anymore.” He didn’t realize he started waxing poetic, but he remembered that wish well from when he was a little young soul: a great yearning to stand above any and every trouble on the earth, and equally untethered to the forces of gravity – freedom unlike anything he’s ever known. “That’s... just how it always felt like to me, I guess.”

「 Yet you ground yourself. Fear has locked you within a gilded cage, all while the clouds above call for you to ascend to their heights. 」

“Is that right?”

「 Of course. I am the wind at your back, the air in your lungs, and the sword by your side. I know when fear takes hold of you, even should you attempt to deny it. 」

“...it’s not like I’m afraid of death or anything. Kinda grown numb to that sort of thing after this many years on the job and all,” Kōtarō opined, feeling that a shinigami in his position would not last long in their duties if they weren’t used to putting their life on the line. Ranmaru hummed in affirmation in turn, wishing to hear his wielder speak his mind more. Anxiously, the man rested his hand on the back of his weary neck as he went on. “It’s just... back then, with the Quincy...?”

For a moment, he fell quiet.

“...they fucking steamrolled us. Slain us by the thousands. Hardly took them any effort, at that.”

As for the words he did not say aloud, though his zanpakutō understood as though they were spoken? None of us should have survived the war, least of all me. We got off lucky.

However, it was more than just fear. More than just helplessness. Hopelessness. Despair. Desperation.

「 ...so what do you intend to do, the next time your world threatens to fall around you? 」

There was one more feeling that took root in his soul, though buried within the chaos of the last day.

Memories of his own last stand proved... hazy, given he would only remember waking up in the 4th Division barracks after the dust settled at last. But, Kōta did remember the Seireitei, though ruined, returning in front of his eyes after days spent skulking, fleeing, hiding, and fighting within the city of shadows.

Then lights fell from the heavens, by the dozens, and from their descent rose those... things.

「 The next time providence itself chooses to become your enemy? 」

Squawking, shrieking, swearing vengeance in the name of their perfect, almighty god-king. Threatening to raze the one relief he found in his home materializing before him to ashes, after he thought it truly lost forever. After he finally had a moment to breathe—let alone recollect himself—when he reunited with those who still remained from the 13th. After they already took Captain Ukitake from them.

It was coming back to him, albeit in pieces, that those bird-beasts were so. Fucking. LOUD. Like a sickening cacophony of dissonant trumpets gleefully tearing into whatever peace of mind he still held on to, blaring into his ears lest he turned deaf.

The spark of hope he felt that that some of the normalcy he loved could return at all, only for someone to dare rip it away from him again, ignited something else.

「 The next time someone dares to stand in the way of your peace? 」

WRATH.

He stopped caring about power gaps.

He stopped compromising on what best approach there was to take.

He stopped worrying about whether he and his own would live to see tomorrow.

All he wanted was to see those Quincy bird things dead. Rally whoever among his men could still fight, and order the remaining ones to safety.

So, he brandished Hai’iro Ranmaru.

He saw Kira Izuru, a man who inexplicably stood while half his own torso was missing, going in as the vanguard against those lording, sanctimonious monstrosities.

Thus, Kōta summoned his cavalry.

Charged like a roaring typhoon, with a great fury he had not shown again since.

Fought until he could stand no longer, having slain one beast after the next with only red in his eyes.

The wrath he felt in those memories of the past simmered under his own skin in the present.

「 The Ryōhei Kōtarō I saw that last day, who did not let such fears hold him down... 」

Kōtarō was not alone in the cabin anymore. Not there one moment, there the next he blinked. It was enough to jolt life back into the shinigami, but he showed no fear before the intruder, for there stood the one same hermit he saw countless times within his inner world, now far and away—or a mere five steps away?—from the cloud sea it inhabited.

The same priestly kimono, with the same yuigesa. The same hauchiwa fan at his hip, with black feathers from the same black wings folded at its back.

Although, it was not the familiar face of a wise old bird Kōtarō would see. No, that mask fell away when Hai’iro Ranmaru made himself corporeal.

“...would break free from his cage, by tempering that same rage worthy of my power.”

Even his voice had changed with his younger, more human-like appearance, sounding smoother than Kōtarō had ever recalled hearing, almost melodious in his chiding. Next to one another, one could swear they looked like twins. The swordsman himself would have realized it as well, had he not sat there on the floor of his childhood home, looking shellshocked.

It did not immediately sink in that, at long last, his zanpakutō spirit materialized before him.

“If you can confirm to me you are worthy?”

It did not yet click that, indeed, he proved to possess the aptitude for Bankai after all.

“If you can show me you can rise above that fear?”

It did not come to mind that his years of training have finally, against all the odds, paid off.

“If you can prove that by besting the hells of yesteryear once again?”

No, above all else...

“Then I will gladly bend the knee to you...”

...what really stood out to the soul reaper was...

“...so that, as my master, you may soar to-”

“What the fu—YOU WERE YOUNG THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

“THAT IS WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO FOCUS ON?!”

[thelioncourts]

CAN WE GET A SNIPPET OF SOMETHING?????????

um. okay, so i was going to write a second halloween story this year, also about witches, but it was basically going to be, in summary: damen is a hunter and was out to hunt a witch, but gets attacked in the forest. he wakes up surrounded by witches and they soon realize they are all on the same side. in the process of hunting down their common foe, some of the other witches try to match-make damen with a young witch named laurent who is less than thrilled that his mother is the loudest match-maker of them all

***

The very first thing Damen noticed upon waking was the pain.  It was a searing kind of pain, located on his left side and consuming the entirety of his rib cage there.  It was bothersome too, the pain, and though Damen was aware of its location, it also seemed to be seeping everywhere in his body, bringing with it an ache in his arms and legs, a blinding light behind his eyelids.  It was all so much that he didn’t initially take into account his surroundings.  That only happened when someone coughed lightly.

Damen froze at the sound. 

Adrenaline spiked through his blood, pushing the pain to the back of his mind suddenly, and he stayed statue still, listening to the happenings around him.  He heard the crackling of a fire, something that explained the stifling heat of the room, he heard the howling of the wind outside, and, most awfully, he heard the muttering of voices from every direction around him.  

The hunt must have gone real bad, he thought to himself, immediately using what little energy he had to hold back a groan and instead try to think of a plan.  Gently, he tested a small movement to see how extensive the injury was, and when he barely moved his leg a brashing strike of white-hot pain bore into him, willing his body to still.  Not happening.  Next, he tried his non-injured side, wondering if he could rely on it for most of his movement; when he tried, however, it felt fine up until his left side tried to follow.  More pain.  Lots more.

Okay, so a physical escape was not an option.  That was fine.  He could come up with something else, maybe try to --

“We can see you moving around, dear one.  We know you’re awake.”

Shit.

There wasn’t any denying it.  The voice was right next to his head.  Swallowing once before bracing himself for the worst, Damen slowly began to open his eyes.  He saw the ceiling, the ceiling of a wooden cabin, and the flames from the fire were casting shadows onto it, the figures dancing with the waving of each orange-hued tendril.  Turning his head ever so slightly, he then saw the figure the voice must have belonged to and startled.  There, with her back facing the fire, was a witch.  

Damen only knew she was a witch because of the brooch pinned to her cloak.  Witches didn’t wear them in public, no, for it would make it too obvious as to who they are, but they did wear them when with their own.  Each coven, after all, had its own symbol. 

This coven was a starburst of gold metal, the tips of the burst itself adorned in jewels.  The witch wearing it was lovely.  She was older, perhaps but a few years younger than Damen’s own father.  It was hard to tell, for she looked quite youthful, but there were small things that gave her away, like the lines by her eyes and mouth.  She was beautiful though.  She was smiling at him, almost indulgently, and it was a kind smile; a beautiful smile actually.  It complimented her blue eyes well.  Her blonde hair was swept all to her right side, tumbling over her shoulder in golden waves that matched the brooch.  Yes, she was lovely.  And a witch.  

“You took quite a fall,” she told him.  

Damen only blinked up at her.  Then he asked, his voice hoarse, “Who are you?”

“My name is Hennike,” she said kindly.  Then she added, “I’m one of the witches you came here to hunt, I believe.  Who are you?”

“Does it really matter?  You know I’m a hunter already,” Damen said.  He turned his head a little more, catching sight in his peripheral vision of a pair of feet attached to a body in a rocking chair.  

“Well, yes, we do know that,” Hennike said, “but I suppose we’d like to know who you are to better understand why you would be here hunting us?”

“Why?” Damen asked incredulously.  “Gods, leave it up to witches to be so separated from society that they cannot even make sense as to why someone would hunt them after what they’ve done.”

“We’ve done nothing,” said a distinctly older voice, perhaps from the body in the rocking chair.  

“Then explain the fires in Mellos,” Damen said, now letting out a groan as he went to sit up, pain be damned.  

All the witches were on clear alert with Damen’s movements.  He could see Hennike’s hands up, could see blue light so bright it was almost white ready at her fingertips.  He could see now the older witch in the rocking chair, her hair long and gray, and her knitting needles moving on their own, and her eyes sparkling with a magical intensity.  There were several other witches in the cabin as well, all women and of a range of ages, and each had their own kind of magic ready for him at the drop of a pin.  

“What fires in Mellos?” Hennike asked, voice soft and wary.  

“A witch has set fire to the farmlands in Mellos,” Damen told her, told them.  “There is nothing left now.  All the crops are destroyed just before harvest was to begin, and there are villages and people that are going to die without them.  It’s utter devastation there.”

“How do you know it was a witch?” asked one of the younger witches.

“I don’t know many fires that burn green other than fires created by magic,” Damen said.

“How do you know it was us?” asked yet another.  

“Because we traced it here.  By the time we reached Mellos, the witch was still there.  We caught the briefest sight of him before he vanished, but he must have exhausted himself setting as large a fire as he did.  He could only vanish so far before reappearing, running through the woods on foot at times.  Though he did eventually pull ahead as he regained some of his strength, we found his footprints all the way to this very forest edge.”

“But that’s impossible,” said the older witch.  “Our men have been gone for weeks.  It couldn’t be one of them unless --”  She stopped cold.  

As though everyone but Damen reached the same conclusion at the same time, the room got eerily still.  Then Hennike finished the thought aloud.  “Guion.”

“Guion?  Who’s Guion?” Damen asked, his eyes searching all of their faces.  

“Guion is a witch from a coven in Belloy,” said one of the witches.

“He came through here not but two days ago,” said another.

“We thought it strange, but allowed it for he passed through without stopping or causing a scene,” said the older one.  

“It would explain his harried expression,” said Hennike.  “Oh dear.”

Suddenly her hands were on Damen’s exposed right forearm.  Damen jumped at the touch, partially from the surprise and fear of it and partially from her cold hands.  Looking at her, he could see the line of worry pinched between her brows.  

“What are you doing?” Damen asked her as she tugged once on his shirt.  

“It was one of our traps that brought you down in the forest,” she said.  “We have them set should hunters ever attack in the night.  I’ve allowed you to lie here bleeding because I thought you were intending on hurting us, but now that I know the truth, we must heal you immediately.  Shirt off.”

Logically, Damen’s brain told him not to trust a witch.  He had learned from his father long ago to never trust anyone, but least of all a wielder of magic.  But his gut-feeling told him to listen and Damen was never one to not trust a gut-feeling.  Gingerly, he pulled at his shirt from the hem and lifted it over his head.  

At his ribs, where he had determined the location of the injury to be, the shirt pulled, stuck to his skin with sticky dark blood.  Still, the shirt came off quickly and Damen finally was able to see the extent of it all.  His ribs were definitely broken, he determined quickly.  Underneath the blood and raw coloration of the skin was an undertone of deep blue, the appearance black with his own skin tone.  

“Look at that,” said the older witch and Damen looked up, expecting a grimace or expression of disgust at his side, but her eyes weren’t on his side at all.  Damen couldn’t tell exactly where they were, but they were definitely focused in on his shoulders, pectorals, or arms...or all of that really.  

“Betilda,” Hennike chastised, laughing.  

“What?  We don’t have men like that here,” Betilda said.

“We really don’t,” said one of the younger witches, her chin resting in her hand.

“Not you too, Melanie.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Hennike.  Well, actually, do deny it.  Because the closest we have to that here is your son,” said another younger witch, waggling her brows at Hennike who just laughed again.  

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to Auguste.”

“He already knows.  I tell him every time he comes by to pick up bread.”

“I’m sorry about them,” Hennike said.  She moved from his right side to his left, fingers gentle on the edge of the injury.  Damen winced.  “This is worse than I thought it was.  I’m going to need ***, ***, ***, and ***.  Gale, would you --”

“Yes.  In the cabinet above the window in the apothecary?”

“The *** might be in the cabinets by the near the door, but the rest should be above the window.”  

Gale disappeared into the cold outside, leaving Damen sitting awkwardly on the table being watched by a few pairs of appreciative eyes.  

“Who are you?” Hennike asked him again.  When he looked at her he was struck by how utterly kind she had come across since he awoke.  

“My name is Damen,” he told her. 

“Damen,” she repeated, smiling at the name.  “It truly is very nice to meet you, Damen.  I wish it were under different circumstances.”  

“Well,” Damen started, wincing again as he attempted to lean back onto his palms and stretch out his torn up side, “I have to thank you for not immediately trying to kill me for trying to attack your coven unprovoked.”  

“It was understandable.  You did everything right, you were led astray by someone far darker than yourself,” Hennike said.  

Gale returned quickly with the ingredients Hennike asked for….

[sharinluna]

Chapter 21 Translation Part 3

Chapter 19

Chapter 19.5

Chapter 20

Chapter 21 Translation Part 1

Chapter 21 Translation Part 2

Please keep in mind that this is a very rushed translation and I skipped more parts than I wanted to.

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

Even after I had escaped from Ares’s clutches, my heart was still beating wildly.

“Do you still think you’re ordinary? Like other Evolvers, you will be ostracized, discriminated, persecuted, and in the end, killed. Because you are all EVILs.”

The voice ringing inside my head was scouring away the peaceful illusion to candidly reveal the brutal truth.

Yōurán: What is exactly this EVIL they’re talking about…?

The buzzing from my phone brought me back to where I was. I was standing at a crossroad.

The weather was clear. Sunlight shown brightly among thick clouds, but it wasn’t enough to drive away the frost in my heart.

I started to doubt the world in front of my eyes. Was this world real? or another dream?

Yōurán: Can I go back to how the things used to be?

Back when everything was peaceful and beautiful. Would I never get that warmth back?

Yōurán: If I can’t go back, I have to go forward.

I checked my phone to see a text from Ling Xiao.

Ling Xiao: Because I feel so good today I’ll give you a little advice. Don’t go southeast today.

I looked up and saw the direction I was heading was southeast.

Yōurán: Is he watching me from nearby?

I surveyed the surroundings but couldn’t find him.

Yōurán: How did he know that I was heading southeast…?

Grumbling about why he would send me such cryptic texts, I replied back. When the light turned green, I continued where I was going without an ounce of hesitation.

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

In another part of Loveland city, many figures were confronting each other in a barren land covered with snow. A young man was surrounded by many but he seemed quite cool about it. He looked at the tense faces of his opponents with a mocking smile.

Just then, his phone rang out lightly, startling everyone except him. With no hurry, he fished out his phone from his pocket and checked the reply. There was only one word. “Thanks.”

It was a simple word but Ling Xiao realized right away that she didn’t believe him one bit.

Ling Xiao: Alas, everything I’ve sad were not lies.

He put his phone back and looked back to the others. Knuckle sounds came out when he flexed his wrists.

Ling Xiao: Time to play, fellows.

At that instant, purple lightening gathered into his palms and gales of wind blew around. The air current became volatile and you could hear the electricity sizzling in the air. Black clouds formed in the sky and everything turned dark like a night. The wrath of the Nature itself made everyone cower in fear.

Ling Xiao: I’ll make it short. I’m running out of time.

His entire form was encircled by lightening as he charged forward. Blood-curdling screams were heard at every second. Soon, he was the only one standing on the ground. With a leering smile he went to the only one who still conscious and bent down to him.

Ling Xiao: Tell me, who sent you? The Special Task Force or…Black Swan?

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

I noticed that I was being followed. I quickened my steps determined to go where it was crowded. I chanced a look behind as I turned a corner and saw my tail. It was an ordinary-looking man wearing a baseball cap. The only thing not ordinary was the clear malice in his eyes looking at me.

Yōurán: Oh, great…

Quick as a flash someone from behind covered my mouth with something and I couldn’t see anything at all. I tried not to lose consciousness but soon everything became dark.

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

??: Are you sure we got the right person?

??: We’ve been following her, she is linked to them…

Their conversation woke me up. I opened my eyes to see that I was in a deserted building.

Mystery Man: You woke up quick.

He was wearing his hood low that I couldn’t see his face.

Yōurán: Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?

I tried to sit up with my wrists tied around my back.

Mystery Man: We already gave you a warning, Miss.

Yōurán: Warning?

Mystery Man: It seems that your memories are poor, EVIL.

I thought back to the crimson words on the computer screen yesterday. So it wasn’t just some prank. And these were the guys who manipulated the online opinions!

Yōurán: Who the hell are you?!

Mystery Man: We are those who are trying to save the world that you Evolvers are trying to destroy.

He bent down close to me.

Mystery Man: Don’t try lying to me. Are you the “Queen”?

I tried to answer back as nonchalantly as possible.

Yōurán: What Queen? I’m not a queen of anything. I think you got the wrong person.

Mystery Man: You’re nervous.

He slowly stood up again.

Mystery Man: But it doesn’t matter if you’re really Queen or not. If we say you are, then you are.

Yōurán: But… what is your reason for doing this?

Mystery Man: Be patient, Queen. Soon you’ll know everything.

He laughed cruelly.

Mystery Man: Then… all of you EVILS will die.

His words had a sense of déjà vu…. I looked down so he wouldn’t see my eyes widen in shock.

This was the guy from my vision from yesterday! And likely he is the one behind the explosion!

Why would he do this? What would he gain from causing an explosion and blaming it on Evolvers? I knew what the answer was but couldn’t face the horrendous truth.

I had to get out of here. I kept struggling with my wrists until my fingers landed on a cold metal. It was Helios’s knife. Thank god that I had remembered to keep it with me before I left the house. Trying not to slice my skin, I discreetly started to cut the ropes.

Just then, a pebble dropped next to me out of nowhere. I looked up and the sudden light made me squint to see who it was. His silver hair shown in the light. Stealthily he slid down a rope and landed on the ground with speed.

Helios…. I called out his name in my head. He glanced at me with a subtle smile.

Helios: Found you.

The lighthearted way he said those words, and the way he faintly smiled at me made me think that he was glad to see me. But soon he regained his cold exterior.

Mystery man: Who are you?! How did you get in here!?

They surrounded him and pointed their weapons at them.

Helios: Shut up.

Helios said as he kicked the man who had been charging towards him with annoyance.

Yōurán: Be careful!

I shouted. But he had already dodged the next attack. He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves. I sat there dazed, unable to avert my eyes from him.

It took him only fifteen minutes to take down the last one. After the fight was done he slowly walked towards me.

Yōurán: He…

Even before I could finish calling his name he brushed past me and continued to walk away from me.

Yōurán: Wait…!

I felt baffled that he would ignore me completely like this. Helios looked behind me with disinterest in his eyes.

Helios: What is it?

Yōurán: Could you… perhaps… untie me lose…?

I tried to look pitifully at him as I gestured toward my wrists.

Helios: Hm? But they almost seem undone.

Yōurán: Yes, but…

Helios: You’ve been working on it. There doesn’t seem any need for me to step in.

Yōurán: But…

I kept wrestling with the rope, but couldn’t find the final stroke that would loosen the ties. And the bodies around me were making me nervous.

Yōurán: Could you please help me while you are at it?

I added emphasis on “while you are at it”. There was a slight grin in his face as he watched me with his arms crossed.

Helios: Why should help you “while I am at it”?

Yōurán: Well… I don’t know why you came here, but you seem to be against them, right? It might not sit well for your plan if they manage to capture me again…

I tried desperately to persuade him.

Yōurán: Please… I’ve only been dragged into this.

Helios: All right.

I don’t know what convinced him, but Helios agreed to help me. He came close to me and bent down. Suddenly I could gaze into his grey-blue eyes. Clear and transparent like ice.

Helios: Give me the knife.

The close proximity dazzled me and I found myself unable to move or say anything. With a low chuckle Helios took the knife from my hands and with a few swift moves the ropes binding my wrists were gone.

Yōurán: Thank you.

I replied as I massaged my wrists to make the blood flow again.

Helios gently stroked the knife with his fingers. His eyes seemed to have become a little gentler.

Helios: This is a good knife.

He gave the knife back into my hands. Taken aback, I took the knife and after a bit of hesitation, handed it back to him. I wanted to give it back to the owner.

Yōurán: Take it, it was yours anyway- I mean, you can have it if you want.

Helios: I don’t except bribes without reason.

With that curt reply, he turned around and started to walk away. Not wanting to part with him just yet, I gathered myself and quickly followed him.

Yōurán: Do you know what they were about to do back there? Are they Evolvers or not? Why are they looking for Queen?

Helios: You ask too many questions.

And it seemed like he wasn’t about to answer any of them.

Yōurán: I’m an Evolver too. So I need to know-

Helios: So what?

His callous words made me freeze midsentence.

Helios: Do you think Evols are a good thing?

There was taunting in his voice. I couldn’t understand the meaning behind his question so I asked back.

Yōurán: Then, do you think Evols are a bad thing? My father always said to me that they were just people who are a little bit different. That they were the same as everyone else. So I can’t understand why some Evolvers would want to get rid of non-Evolvers. And I can’t understand why non-Evolvers would hate Evolvers as well.

Helios stayed silent and continued to walk on.

Helios: Maybe you’re right. But human nature is complicated.

When he reached the end of the corridor he opened the exit door and walked outside. But I couldn’t follow him as I was weighed down with what he said.

Was my father wrong? Were my thoughts too naïve and idealistic?

Sunlight could be seen outside the door but I couldn’t feel any light. As I stood still, I suddenly saw a flash of light speeding towards me. I instinctively held out my arm to shield the attack.

Helios: What are you doing?!

Helios had already struck the strange man into unconsciousness. I looked at Helios who had crushed his attacker so quickly.

His icy gaze held inordinate amount of fury as he glared at me which was unusual for his overall apathetic behavior.

Helios: Did you think you could stop the knife with bare hands?!

Yōurán: Uh, no… not exactly…

I whispered feebly.

Helios: I warned you before to stop acting so reckless!

His anger seemed to have got the better of him and he grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I was suddenly struck at how his hands were similar to someone I used to know.

Yōurán: Are you really not K….

I couldn’t finish the question. Why did I suddenly feel the need to mention that name to him?

Helios: It stops now.

Helios finally let go of my wrist.

Yōurán: …..Helios.

He looked at me.

Yōurán: Will things get better? What are your reasons for coming here?

Helios: If I tell you, what can you do about it?

Yōurán: At least I’m…

Helios: It seems that you can’t accept yourself that you’re powerless.

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields.

Helios: The weak should learn to survive on their own. No one will help them.

I wanted to contradict him but the words wouldn’t come out. I bit my lower lips trying not cry.

Yōurán: I don’t want to remain helpless either.

I forced myself to look straight into his eyes.

Yōurán: I don’t want to be kept sheltered as the others protect me. I don’t want to be kept in the dark when the people I care about are hurt or gone. I’m trying to become better and stronger, but…

I couldn’t continue. My willpower seemed so insignificant and was about to be overwhelmed by massive waves of despair and misery.

Helios: Then become stronger.

He wasn’t taunting me anymore. Instead he was talking to me clearly and sincerely.

Helios: Do everything you can, by fair means or foul. Give up everything in your past… even yourself. If you can’t do that, then go back to the world you came from.

For the last time, he turned around and walked away from me, this time without looking back.

I sagged to the ground and let the tears fall.

Could I risk everything, abandon everything I have inside me to become strong enough to protect the loved ones?

I felt like I was in a bottomless pit without any light or a way out. I was completely alone in this world, forsaken and forgotten. The feelings of solitude were enough to suffocate me.

Yōurán: Should I really let it all go away?

If I give up on the beautiful memories of the past, would they disappear? Could I never get them back? I continued to sit there until my hands and feet were frozen when the phone rang.

Yōurán: …Hello?

Ling Xiao: It’s only been a day since we parted and you already sound terrible. I guess my hunches were right this time too.

I thought of his message to not go southeast.

Yōurán: Did you know what was going to happen?

Ling Xiao: I want to say yes but… frankly I’m not that omniscient.

Yōurán: I don’t know what I should do from here…

I hung my head low and my voice shook.

Yōurán: Is there nothing I can do to make everyone’s memories return? I don’t know what’s the right thing to do…

Ling Xiao didn’t respond right away.

Ling Xiao: I can’t give you an answer. Only you, the Queen, can change the world. You can do everything you put your mind to. It is in your powers to make the world you want. You can turn everything into chaos, or even end the world right now if you would choose to do so.

Yōurán: I would never want that in my life!

Ling Xiao: You don’t have to feel the need to deny it, I’m not interested anyway. But there’s no time for you to sit and wallow in despair. I’m looking forward to what kind of future you – the one and only Queen in the universe - will bring into this world.

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

Next day I was browsing through my phone in my room when I saw this news.

“Rumors spread that the Riverside bridge explosion were done by people with superpowers. The show <Miracle Finder> has been receiving threats and hatred because it’s a show about superpowers. A lot of angry mobs are demoing outside of the producing company.”

Yōurán: How did it spread so quickly?

It took only 30 hours until whispers from a small internet website grew into massive protest demonstrations. Things were becoming worse faster than I anticipated.

I hurried to get to my company right away.

The protesters were banging their fists against the locked entrance. The people inside – my people – were trapped and at their mercy.

I called the police and looked for a way past the angry mob.

Yōurán: Please be safe… Anna, Kiki, Willow, Minor…

Mob A: I know that woman! She works in here!

A shrill shout sent waves of disrupt among the mob. I looked to where they were pointing and my heart sank.

Yōurán: Kiki!

Kiki was being confronted by swarms of protesters. She looked so small and helpless against them. I watched her fall hard onto the floor as someone pushed her. That seemed to be a switch that turned everyone violent. They all crowded around her to assault her.

Yōurán: Where is the police… what’s taking them so long…?!

I bit my lips hard.

Yōurán: There’s no other way around!

Taking a deep breath, I charged in. I pushed and struggled past the crowd blocking my way and managed to reach Kiki.

Kiki: You are…

Yōurán: Hurry!

I helped her stand up and lead her towards the entrance. That was the only safe place at the moment. I heard Kiki crying softly. It took a lot of effort, but I succeeded in pushing her inside the building.

Kiki: Be careful!

Her warning came too late. I already lost my balance and fell to the floor. The crowds gathered around me now. Their faces were full of animalistic contempt, but I couldn’t find the man who was behind all this. I’m sure he was lurking in the shadows after he made these people into his puppets to do his deeds. The thought sent waves of revulsion in my veins.

Mobs: You monsters…!!!

I covered my head and waited for the blow to come.

Then, everything stopped and went quiet. I looked up.

Victor was pushing his way through the crowds. I stared at him, wondering why he would come here.

Victor: Do you think you can walk?

Yōurán: Victor…

I whispered his name.

Victor: Are you in shock?

He bent down to examine my face.

Yōurán: No, I’m fine!

I hurriedly tried to stand up.

Yōurán: !!!

The sharp pain from my sprained ankle almost made me fall back down. Thankfully, Victor grabbed me from falling. He looked at my injured leg.

Victor: Did you sprain your ankle?

Yōurán: It’s nothing, just give me your arm and I can walk-

With a slight tsk he lifted me up and my feet were dangling in the air. It was like the first time we met 17 years ago when he saved me from getting hit by a car. Snows were suspended in midair in the halted time as he walked to his car carrying me in his arms.

Maybe he didn’t remember me, maybe I was nothing to him at all. But my heart still continued to flutter in the same way around him.

The car door was left open, showing how quickly he got off to reach me.

Victor: Get in.

I slowly sat in the passenger seat. Victor closed the car door for me.

Yōurán: Why did you come here?

Victor: I was in the neighborhood.

He replied curtly and asked me sternly.

Victor: Why were you there? To protest?

Yōurán: No, not to protest, I…

Victor: Did you want to become a hero and save people?

His matter-of-fact accuse stung and I hung my head down.

Radio: LFG is going to invest in buying the share of HBS. Is this groundwork for adventuring to American markets? Financial specialists say…

I banged my head into a window in my hurry to look at him. Victor was looking at me very strangely but I didn’t care. I was too busy dealing with what I heard on the radio.

Yōurán: HBS… why… did LFG really decide to invest in HBS?

Victor frowned and I realized that what I asked was rude.

Victor: You got a problem with that?

Yōurán: Why would you-

I stopped talking. Victor forgot everything about me. He didn’t remember the time when HBS set up an elaborate trap to attack me. He didn’t know that Black Swan was behind HBS. He probably didn’t even know what Black Swan was. After choosing my words carefully, I finally asked him.

Yōurán: Have you ever heard of an organization called Black Swan?

Victor: Just tell me directly what you want to say.

Yōurán: Black Swan is behind HBS. It is a dangerous and controversial organization. Could you think again about investing in there?

Victor: The decision’s already been made by the board members a month ago.

I opened my mouth to argue but was interrupted by the turmoil outside.

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

Yōurán: Maybe this is all my fault?

Victor: What fault?

Once it started, it was difficult not to fall into the trap of relentless self-reproach.

My fault for existing at all.

My fault for changing the future.

My fault for coming back alive.

My fault for failing to stop this.

My fault for being unable to do anything as destructions happened right in front of my eyes...!!!

Victor: Stop it!

His shout stopped me from spiraling down into the pit deeper. He grabbed my arms firmly and made me look at him.

His words made me calm and cool-headed. I couldn’t afford to forever continue feeling sorry for myself.

Yōurán: I’m sorry…

I took a deep breath and looked up at him.

Yōurán: My Evol is precognition. I can foresee the future. I saw many deaths and calamities. Some of them already happened, others not yet. But even though I know what’s going to happen, I am powerless to stop it.

Victor: …I don’t know what you went through. But if what you say is true, someone very powerful must be behind all the disasters and they have been preparing this for a long time.

Victor: They have nothing to do with you. And you are not obligated to put a stop to this.

Yōurán: But it has to be stopped, and I can’t just do nothing! If I were smarter, or stronger I…

I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Yōurán: If someone else had the same powers, they would have been able stop it!

Victor: There is no point in making assumptions like that.

Yōurán: I know. It is useless to think about might-have-beens. But I still think about it… I’m an idiot, right?

Victor: Yes, you are.

Victor: But it is still in your powers to stop it. There is no time for regretting the past.

There was no ridicule nor criticism in his words, just the plain truth.

Yōurán: If my choices can change the future, I can stop it from happening. But if I choose wrong, something far worse may happen. What is the right choice? Should I change the future or let it be and conform to it?

This time Victor didn’t answer right away.

Victor: Don’t you already have an answer to that?

Yōurán: Do you think I’ll succeed, then?

Victor: No one knows.

He smiled faintly and his voice turned soft.

Victor: But I hope you can.

I blinked. Finally, I felt like I could smile again.

Yōurán: Thank you, I will.

I vowed that I would not hesitate or think about failure. Whatever choice I made, I could deal with the outcome. I will do everything I can to find out the truth, stop the catastrophes, and solve everything.

Not just because this was my responsibility and duty as Queen, but because I want to with all my heart. I will give everything I have to save everyone in this world.

Until the sun shines again.

Until we meet again under the stars.

Until I can finally say to them: “Hello. My name is Yōurán. I came back.”

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

Snow seemed to be never-ending in this year’s winter. A man looked down at the white city with a faint smile.

Zhuo Yi: What a beautiful, cold, endless winter….

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

Chapter 19: You thought you were dating the guys happily but that was a fake and you’re stuck freezing in eternal winter.

Chapter 20: All the boys don’t remember you and they are not the ones you used to know and love.

Chapter 21: You sacrificed your life to save the world and now you’re stuck in this world where Evolvers and Non-evolvers are fighting each other.

Zhuo Yi: What a beautiful winter world!

Me: SHUT UP!!

If Evolvers are a metaphor of the minority in this batch of chapters, then the feud between Evolvers and Non-evolvers are not totally unrelated to real-life conflicts between different various groups.

My father always said to me that Evolvers were just people who are a little bit different. That they were the same as everyone else.

This time, MC’s fighting for peace, for harmony, for inherent rights of the people and intrinsic values of life, and for equality.

I know that translation’s more wacky in this one, but please give me some encouraging words. I’m a complete wreck. Why did I even start this...

[justlookatthosesausages]

:: “Memoirs” :: post-Frozen 2 Time Travel AU

======= CHAPTER 4 =======

“That’s the craziest plan.” Puffed Anna.

“It can’t be worse than sending a letter to yourself.” Commented Elsa. 

Anna turned to her. “Hey, that actually wasn’t that bad of an idea.”

The blonde sighed, amused nonetheless. “You really need me to teach you a thing or two about time paradoxes.”

“Sorry, I forgot for one moment that I have a nerd as my elder.”

Elsa gently nudged her, and Anna giggled. 

“I get it, you know.” Said the redhead. “No interacting with anyone, ever. We do not go nearby the castle because there’s a way we cross ways with our young Father coming home, we do not go to the East part of the village because this is where Mother was found and adopted, annnd we try to avoid talking to pretty much anyone because they could be young versions of Kai, Gerda or the guards or the maids, that we don’t recognize.”

Elsa grinned. “You’re the clever one.”

“What? Nah, you’re the one with the brain cells. I just repeated what you told me.”

“I never explained that to you.” Pointed the elder.

“You didn’t?”

“No. You grasped it all by yourself.” 

“Really?”

Elsa sighed, but with some tenderness. “You once told me ‘When will you see yourself the way I see you?’, but it also applies to you. Do you realize of much better of a Queen you make compared to me?”

“No, that’s not true, you--” Anna started to defend, but Elsa wasn’t going to let her demean herself. 

“You’re way more clever than me, Anna. These last years, you solved mysteries and found solutions faster than me. You saved my life twice. Twice, Anna. Do you have any idea how much people admire you? How much I admire you?”

Anna stared at her sister, stunned by her words. Her lips trembled as she was about to blabber a response, but she gulped with a slight blush. She actually didn’t know what to say. She then analyzed Elsa’s facial expression. 

“You look like you wanted to say that since a long time.” 

“I do.” Smiled Elsa, taking Anna’s hand in hers. “Since we became the Bridge, I wanted to tell you in many occasions. But I never really found the right moment.” She paused. “Who would have thought that I’d tell you that more than 30 years before?”

Anna laughed, and her elder joined in. “Thank you. So much.”

It was all she could say, her modesty preventing her from saying anything else, especially enhanced since she became Queen. Her emotion still tightened her throat, and she had started to see Elsa blurry, so she coughed lightly and re-focused on what they were doing. 

“Alright. Speaking of time travel... Where were we?”

Elsa smiled as they stopped looking at each other to stare at the same direction. “The rule is to not interact with anyone. But with harmless things...” 

She waved her hand, and with a flick of the wrist, a gust of ice escaped her magic palm and sneaked in between the legs of the stable boys from the place they were hidden. 

The sparkling and glowing blue thread discreetly made its way to a cart, like an eel having fun and crackling. Anna raised an impressed eyebrow at how fast Elsa was in her magic now. She could control her ice mentally with incredible speed and mastering, no matter what the distance was. She just had to look at it from where she was if she wanted to be precise, which was the current case, and Anna’s eyes alternated between looking at the trajectory of the magic and Elsa’s focused face. 

She had what the younger now called ‘The Scrunch’ in between her eyebrows, which often appeared when she was concentrating as she carved wood in the Forest or tried to understand Olaf’s handwriting on charades’ papers. 

She let out a small giggle at the Scrunch, but tried not to distract the Snow Queen. They were trying their best to not be spotted, hiding behind barrels, and it would ruin everything. 

Finally, the controlled gust of magic arrived to its destination, and Elsa made sure that neither of the blacksmith and the wheelwright were looking at the cart before she snapped the bars of one of the wheels. With a satisfyingly quiet snap, it broke, and none of the people around noticed that the cart now had a default. 

“Here we go.” Smiled Elsa, not hiding her relief sigh that it all went well. 

She waved her hand to vanish the ice, and turned to a beaming Anna. 

“How did you possibly see from that far?” The latter asked.

“I don’t know.” Shrugged Elsa. “You couldn’t?”

“The shop is a hundred meters away, Elsa. Of course I don’t. I wonder if your sense of sight got sharpened since you became the Fifth Spirit.”

Instead of tossing that commentary away, the Snow Queen hummed and considered it. “That’s actually possible. I noticed I could hear the sounds of the Forest better afterwards. Or maybe it was just Gale bringing them to me.”

“Well, that was awesome. Breaking a part of a cart so the wheelwright will have to fix it and therefore shift all her production day after day and then year after year until the day I rent one to come see you? And so with the delay difference I won’t touch the glowing magical rock because we won’t have the same walk in the Forest? Brilliant. It definitely was a crazy plan, and it’s brilliant. You’re amazing.”

Elsa simply shrugged. “You’re the one who made me think of it when retelling what happened.”

Anna stared at her. 

“Can’t you just take a compliment?”

“Uh?”

“You just broke a cart on a surgical level thanks to a spark of magic sent from the other end of the street, and you’re like ‘oh yeah it’s thanks to you’??!?”

“What?” Frowned Elsa, genuinely confused. 

Anna blinked as she realized that Elsa wasn’t trying to be modest. 

“Wait... You’re not really used to receive compliments.”

The blonde looked away, and that slight embarrassment confirmed Anna’s theory. 

“Elsa, you always give compliments! To everyone! You even bathed me in compliments just earlier. You should learn to get some as well!”

“But anyone deserves them more than me.” Pouted Elsa. 

Anna’s mouth opened wide in shock. She couldn’t believe her ears. 

“ELSA!”

“Shhhh!” Whispered the Snow Queen. 

“I don’t care if I’m loud about it, damnit, I want to be loud about it, I want to loudly tell you how many compliments you deserve. Everyone in Arendelle and Northuldra admire you!”

“I know.” Mumbled Elsa. “But I’ve never done any big effort to get that recognition. People mostly admire me for my magic, and I was born with it, so...”

The younger hesitated between slapping her forehead or Elsa’s arm. 

“Elsa, this couldn’t be more far from the truth. And, for God’s sake, you stopped a tidal wave with your bare hands and saved a whole kingdom from being flooded. What can ever top that?”

“Nokk helped.” Specified the Fifth Spirit. 

Anna grumbled. “Please understand that you have the right to receive compliments, okay?”

Elsa remained quiet, like she always was when Anna raised her voice on her and said the truth. She simply nodded. 

“Come here.”

The elder lifted her head, and found herself in Anna’s arms, hugging her warmly. Elsa gave the hug back, holding her sister tight against her.  

With smiles, they parted. 

“Your turn now. Do you think you could sneak into that shop there and get us two hoods?” Asked Elsa as she pointed at a window.

“Discretion is my middle name.” Grinned Anna, stretching her fingers.

“It really isn’t.” Smirked Elsa, and memories of their whole life in common could provide counter-examples. “But I trust you on this. Since the Great Thaw, you went more than me into that shop - yes, that’s because I didn’t need new clothes as much as you do - and you know the lady more than me. You’ll know how to borrow two clothes without getting busted.”

“Just say ‘steal’.”

“I thought you wanted to repay everyone once we get back to the future?” Frowned Elsa, surprised by the Queen’s precision. 

“Yes, of course, but for now, it’s still theft. I’m about to steal from my citizens. And we need money too. Goodness, I’m about to steal money from them. It’s making me sick.” Murmured Anna, hands on her cheeks. 

“Don’t think too much about it. It’s gonna be okay eventually.” Assured Elsa, but it made her feel bad as well.

Anna nodded and stood up. She went to the shop, wisely inspecting each of the clients’ movements and the manageress so no one could see her face, and made her way through the store. Elsa saw her bounce and leap discreetly in the room by the window, and she clenched her hands in stress. She wondered if she was more worried in that moment than Anna. 

After long painful minutes, Anna reappeared at the door, being as careful as she was on her way in, and soon swiftly ducked behind the barrels next to her sister. Elsa felt great relief to have her back. She couldn’t tell if it was because Anna made it with no problem, or because her sister was at her side again after being alone for those long minutes, trapped 30 years in the past on her own.

“Tadaaaa!” Smiled Anna, beaming like a thousand suns in her pride. 

There was a silence, and Elsa gulped and nodded with a smile as a congratulation gesture. 

“Why are you crying?” Frowned Anna, and she let down the hands she had lifted with one hood in each. 

Elsa urged to sniff and blink to not show anything. “I’m not crying.”

The Queen bent her head. “For someone who’s been hiding the truth about herself for a tremendous amount of time, you’re terrible at lying.” 

The blonde had a giggling sigh. “I’m just... I’m just glad you’re here. Without you, I don’t know what I’d have done after time traveling. I’d have panicked and... You know.”

Anna smiled warmly. “It’s a good thing we got each other, uh? You do the magic stuff, I do the clothing stuff. It’s equality!” She exclaimed, raising the hoods in victory. 

They laughed together, and their laughter was interrupted by their stomachs rumbling in one voice. 

“Okay, let’s put them on. Oh, and keep my jacket underneath. We’re gonna go get some food.” 

“But we can’t enter into an inn, it’s too risky!” 

“We’re not going to eat in a pub. Some of the merchants on the market square sell grilled meat, and I’ve never seen their faces before. Which means that they’re just passing by Arendelle. With that fact and the hoods, we have no risk to alter the events in the future.”

Elsa’s jaw dropped, and melted in a smile. “When I tell you that you’re the clever one.” 

The redhead attached her cloak with a chuckle.

=======

“Adele!”

It took a few seconds for Elsa to understand that Anna was calling her. 

“I found us a spot”, smiled the redhead as she pointed at the place she was sitting. 

It was a bench in the shadows of the docks, and if Elsa hadn’t recognized Anna’s voice, she would never have noticed her under her hood with her fiery hair hidden in a bun under the fabric. She made her way to her after getting food from the stand.

“Here. I asked for a double dose of sauce on yours.”

“Ooooh, neat!” Exclaimed Anna, clapping her hands before taking the skewer she was giving her. 

As Elsa ate her grilled meat with a satisfied hum and looked at the people chatting on the market square, Anna counted how much money they had left. She giggled as she noticed how, back at the time they were in, the coins had Arendelle’s crocus on one side, and the castle on the other. 

“Hey, look.” She said, holding one at Elsa’s eye level. “The design was different. I prefer the ones from our present time with your face on, but those are pretty. Doesn’t that remind you of when Papa told us about how money works?”

The Snow Queen had to shift the edge of her hood aside to see what she was showing her. She had tied her platinum blonde hair in a braid to hide it in her back, and blocked the hood’s material. She smiled at the coin. 

“Yes. I remember how desperate he was when he tried to explain to you what money was for. You were convinced that one can buy goods and services with hugs and love.”

Anna laughed out loud. “Well, I still do.”

Elsa smiled as they continued to eat.  

The market place became crowded quickly, Arendellians enjoying the warm weather to eat dinner outside and enjoy the animations near the harbor. 

“To think that at the moment we speak, he’s right over there, in the castle... Coming back from the Forest and probably panicked about all that happened...” Muttered Anna once she finished eating, and staring at the castle’s walls. 

The elder nodded sadly. “It’s difficult to resist the urge to go tell him that everything will be fine. But it’s something he has to face alone.” 

They didn’t add anything else, minutes passing by, and cuddled against each other.

Elsa lifted her head as the crowd became thicker and more noisy, and a man and a woman near them got louder in their exchange. Anna followed the same movement.

“Have you heard the rumors? The King is dead!” Muttered the woman. 

The man gasped and covered his mouth. “Odin’s name, really?”

Anna grumbled. “That’s not much of a waste.” 

She got nudged by her elder. “Anna!”

The redhead gave her a look. “Why are you scolding me? You know I’m right. As cruel as it is to say it, our grandfather was a terrible man. Even if we’re talking about family, I’m not feeling any sadness for him.”

“Still...” Muttered Elsa, but deep inside, she totally agreed with Anna. 

The difference between them was that Anna felt no shame in stating it out loud, when Elsa heeld all her anger against him inside her since the moment she discovered the truth about him, and how he... 

“I heard rumors saying that the chief of some clan up North killed him.” Revealed the woman.

“That’s the other way around.” Groaned Anna through gritted teeth. 

He was the one who killed the Northuldra chief. To hear someone spread the fake news actually brought Elsa to a state of internal rage, and she had to physically restrain herself to not stand up right then and yell to the face of the woman that she got it all wrong. 

Her hands clenched on the bench, and Anna noticed it. Her gaze turned to Elsa’s face, and she smiled sadly. 

“Yes, now I get it. As difficult as it is, we must not take action.” She whispered, putting her hand on Elsa’s. 

To their relief, the two people walked somewhere else, but Elsa knew that they were going to think they know the truth for 30 years. Until Anna and herself would explain on the public square what really happened after they got back from their adventures up North, announce their new roles as two sides of the Bridge, and more importantly talk about how they both are in fact half-Northuldra. 

“Are you okay?” Wondered Anna. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... Thinking.” 

Elsa suddenly turned her eyes away from the two people to stare at her younger. “Why?? Is it cold? Does the air seem colder to you??”

Anna gave her a warm smile, and it chased her fear away in an instant. “Elsa, you have full control now. You know it. You don’t have to be afraid about that anymore.”

“But still...”

“When was the last time it happened? Hum?” Still smiled her sister. “We worked on it after the Great Thaw. And since you’re the Fifth Spirit, I hadn’t felt once a moment where you chilled the room.”

She then snorted, and Elsa frowned. “What?”

“I’m thinking of a pun. Ironically, things are not cold anymore because now, you just chill. It’s funny, no?”

There was a silence as the blonde had a jaded expression. 

“I don’t know what I would be without you, Anna, but sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you as a sister.”

Anna grinned. “Come on, you loved it.”

=======

The sun set faster than they expected on the Arendelle’s horizon. It was obvious that they couldn’t go sleep in a hotel, and the night would be warm, so they decided to go up on the hills where they knew no one lived to sleep outside.

Building a camp and lighting a fire now was something they became masters at; years of living in the Forest and ice powers helped a lot. 

Once Elsa was done crafting an ice hut with large moves of the hands, Anna snorted.

“You couldn’t help drawing that snowflake above the entrance, uh?”

Elsa bit her lip to hold a chuckle. “It’s not a snowflake, though. It’s the Spirits symbol. At least it’s up to date.”

“You boastful dork.” 

They looked at the beautiful sunset in the distance, and were at the perfect place to admire it. With satisfaction, they sat on the grass and admired how it covered the kingdom, which would later become theirs, in an orange blanket. 

“Do you think that tomorrow, we’ll wake up and it was all just a dream?” Wondered Anna.

Elsa snorted. “I doubt it. It feels very real, too real even. But we’ll find a way to get back. I never loose hope as long as I’m with you.” 

Anna smiled. “I always try to help people be positive.”

Elsa sighed in happiness, eyes on the horizon. 

“It’s true, you do. She’ll be very lucky to have you.”

“Who?” 

“Your daugh-”

Elsa suddenly interrupted herself with a gasp. She slammed her hand on her mouth, her face distorted in a fearful expression, shocked and panicked to have let that slip out. 

“...What?” Muttered Anna. 

There was a silence, Elsa gasping again, and tears of disappointment towards herself filled her eyes. 

The redhead stared at her. “Did you just say... My daughter?”

Elsa was still mute, her hand clamped to her mouth.

“What do you mean?” Asked Anna, her eyes wide. “Elsa, what do you mean, my daughter?”

[naturepointstheway]

Pits and Stars (Life is Strange fanfic)

The same fucking nightmare again. Junkyard. Daytime. That fucking Thursday again. Chloe’s truck empty save for her as she swerves away from the barn, not caring how fast she drives to the junkyard, her home away from home, her American Rust, where she could be herself. She needs Rachel, needs Max, where were they, oh god, why did everyone abandon her? 

“Come, on, come on!” Chloe snaps at her clanking, shuddering truck, heart hammering, knuckles white as she digs her nails into the steering wheel, shoulders hunching up under her leather jacket, the trio of bullets on her necklace chilly against her vest. How she would like to use one of those bullets on Nathan Prescott, blow out his brains to high heaven. 

Come on, come on, don’t give up on me, truck!

Chloe glares ahead at the road, the white lines mere blurs on the tarmac, the red folders with their monochrome images of victims tied up and photographed in such disturbing positions...and her best friend among them--looming scarlet and grey before her. The last person on Earth who would ever, ever--

She had to be posing, she posed for those shots, but that was not like her, so not like her best friend, why would she--where is she? Why isn’t she here? She had to be, her partner in crime, her sidekick as they conquered the high seas. She should have been in the seat next to Chloe, but her place is empty, so empty, and Chloe refuses to glance over, lest she freaks out more than she is already. Where is she, her partner in crime and time? Just when she needs her most, she’s not there. So like her! So like someone who abandoned her for five years without a call or text, and had been in Arcadia Bay for one month without calling her. Asshole. 

But oh god, she forgave, would forgive again and again, her in a heartbeat, in a breath. She’d love her again and again and oh god why would she, where is she--buried somewhere? No. She had to be alive. 

American Rust now right in front of her, Chloe slams her foot on the brakes, sending herself lurching into the steering wheel as the truck comes to a sudden halt. Ignoring the jolt of pain strumming through her ribs--it’s sure to leave a bruise--she kicks the door open, leaping down to the ground, hitting the dirt in a sprint, straight for the spot she knew she was buried. But she had to be alive somehow, oh god, please, be alive, be alive somehow! She couldn’t live without her, couldn’t--

Crunch, goes something under Chloe’s foot as she stumbles away from her truck, legs weak, her breaths coming hard and fast, eyes wild with panic. She chances a glance down at the ground, sees that she has stepped on a camera not unlike the one she gave to Max. Her father’s camera. Now Max’s camera. There’s no time to stop and pick up the remains, she has to go to that spot she knows is the place her soulmate is buried--no, not buried. Just hiding. Hiding. She posed for those photos. But not willingly, surely not! Her eyes had been glazed, a hint of defiance and quiet fury in her eyes. A survivor. She was always a survivor. Her, dead? 

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead!

Chloe sets off at a run, her feet pounding hard against the dirt, crunching cameras underfoot as she tears across the dirt, clearing debris and narrowly avoiding smacking into wrecks that once had been beloved, fully functioning cars. She never stops to question why a path of cameras, just cameras cemented together like stones on a walkway, has materialised before her. Doesn’t question why she thinks it’s Max, not Rachel, who lies somewhere--she knows, she knows where--who is buried here in this junkyard. 

Max! Max! Come on, where are you!

“MAX!” 

Chloe collapses to her knees with a thud that should have sent jolts of pain up her legs, but she feels nothing, nothing but the dirt under her nails and hard earth under her knees as she claws away at the place she knows Max is buried. 

“MAX! Please!” 

She is still clawing, half-crying, half-screaming as the stench of rotten flesh and putrification clogs her nostrils, her mouth, her throat, landing heavy and putrid in her stomach. 

“Max, no, no, fuck no! MAX!” 

Dirt gives way under her hands to the warm, sickly feel of plastic, plastic full of a rotting body; the only thing Chloe can see of her is her short brown hair, her half-rotten face, a camera glinting mere inches away. 

“MAX! Max! NO!” 

The smell overpowers Chloe so much she throws up right there and then into the pit, her stomach wrenching violently, twisting itself inside her very body as she grips herself around the waist with her arms. 

“Max! Max! Please god no, not you! MAX!” 

Blinded by tears, Chloe half crawls, half stumbles away from the pit, bending double as she throws up again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, not caring who heard her sobs. Not until hands grips her shoulders, and someone is bending over her, their shadow pooling on the ground under her. And it’s her voice, her voice. 

“Chloe! Chloe, wake up!” 

If only she could! Jesus Christ, why couldn’t she--

“Chloe! Wake up! CHLOE!” 

The hands are shaking her roughly now, and Chloe wakes up with a violent jerk, head smacking into Max’s--

Max! Max alive and well next to her, her face a dark smudge in the moonless night. 

“Chloe! God, you scared me!” Max’s hands come up to cup Chloe’s face, and oh god, it is such a relief to feel her warm hands on her cheeks that Chloe closes her eyes, relishing her touch, her closeness, the warmth radiating from Max, for just a moment. Alive. Max is alive. Here. With her. “You were literally screaming my name! Chloe, talk to me!” 

Chloe’s stomach lurches in violent nausea, acrid bile sticking to the back of her throat, and she’s convinced that unless she gets out of the truck now, she will throw up right there and then. She pulls away from Max, scrabbles to open the truck door with a hand. 

“I--I need air.”

Chloe unlatches the door, kicking it open with a foot before jumping out onto the grass below, stumbling a few steps away before collapsing on her hands and knees, stomach convulsing as she throws up whatever was left of her dinner. Despite her state, the still air is cool on her skin, taking away the gross icky feel of sweat on her forehead and neck. The cool grass under her palms and tickling the web of skin between her thumb and finger has a strange calming effect on her, grounding her to this reality, this one, the one she is living in. The one with Max alive in it. Not dead in a plastic bag in the junkyard like...

Like Rachel Amber. 

Her face is wet, and she wipes her eyes with her hands, at the same time hearing soft footfalls approach her, and then someone kneeling next to her, their hands on her shoulders, leaning into her side, so close that strands of their short hair brushes against the side of her face.

“Chloe?” Max’s voice is no more than a whisper, her word a puff of air against Chloe’s cheek. 

Chloe hates the way her hands shake like two leaves in a strong gale, and she closes them into fists to force them to stop and so Max wouldn’t see. She pulls back her hands into her lap, kneeling now on the grass, shoulders slumped, still feeling as sick as ever. 

“Another fucking nightmare, Max,” Chloe suppresses a shudder, head still bowed. “Junkyard again.” 

“Oh, god. Chloe, that’s...” Max’s arms wind around Chloe’s shoulders, her body warm and heavy against hers as she holds her close. “That’s so fucked up,” Max whispers. “So fucked up.” 

“What’s even more fucked up, Max, is...” 

“Go on...” 

“It wasn’t Rachel Amber in there. It was--it was--” 

“Holy shit, is that why you were screaming my name?” 

“It certainly wasn’t because it was a good dream.” 

“God, Chloe, that’s--” Max sounds like she wants to be sick now. “That’s--” 

“Completely and utterly fucked up?” 

Chloe feels Max lean her head against the back of her neck, and she brings up a hand to hold Max’s arm that’s wound around her chest. If only she could freeze this moment in time, with Max holding her close, her warm weight and presence calming her down from the horrific nightmare. Tight, stiff muscles in her neck already feel like they’re relaxing again, especially with Max leaning her head against her back, holding her like she’d never let go. Chloe never wanted her to let go. 

God. Why did it have to be Max not Rachel in there? Fuck you, brain. Just...fuck you. 

“I’m here, Chloe, I’m here,” Max whispers, “This is reality. I’m here. Alive. With you.” 

This is reality. 

“Fuck this. Fuck everything that happened to Rachel, to you, to Kate...” Chloe’s fingers tighten on Max’s arm. “Why? Why did it have to be us? What have we fucking done to deserve our lives dipped in shit like this, Max? Why? What kind of world is this that does this to us? To Arcadia Bay?” 

“I wish I knew, Chloe...” 

“We’re gonna be screwed up inside for the rest of our lives. It’s shit. We’re fucking teenagers! Talk about fucked up.” 

“We’ve still got each other. I’m never leaving you.”

“I know, Max,” Chloe’s voice threatens to wobble, and she swallows hard to try and control it. “Neither am I.”  

Chloe lets Max hold her for a few minutes, sagging into her arms, not daring to close her eyes, least the vivid image of Max in that goddamn pit from her nightmare burn like wildfire out of control on the whirlwind of a teen girl’s scream of grief and rage. 

Like Rachel’s. 

Chloe catches her mind drifting back to that day, and she forces herself not to recall a plastic bag, a puddle of blonde hair, and the stench, oh god the stench--

Stop. 

Stop. No. Stop. She was here. Now. With Max holding her close, even as Chloe still bent over double, head still light from nausea, and perspiration cold on her forehead. 

No, she has to focus now. Not slip back into the past. Just focus here. On the present. Now. Max’s arms around her, the way she is so warm against her despite the nippy night air, how one of Max’s hands reached up just enough to lose her fingers in Chloe’s hair, nails scratching lightly against her scalp. The way she moves her head so her forehead now rests against Chloe’s neck, lips pressing a gentle kiss into her shoulder blade. 

She hates to break the moment, but Chloe could now feel her legs getting numb from the constant kneeling; she’s going to get serious pins and needles once she stands up again. God, she needed something to calm her down, and while Max was more than enough of a soothing influence, she wasn’t a joint of weed, and that’s exactly what Chloe needed right now. 

“Max?” 

The arms loosen around Chloe, Max straightening up just enough to look Chloe in the eye. Even in the dark, Chloe can see her hair has already grown a little longer. Max touches a hand to Chloe’s cheek, and she leans in to it, hungry for all the reminders that she is here, not dead and hastily buried. 

“How’re you feeling?” Max asks. 

“I need a goddamn smoke, now..” 

“Not inside the truck, Chloe.” 

“Nah, think I need to just sit in the back for a bit with a joint. Self-medication, you know.” 

“Want me to leave you alone for a bit?” 

“Join me if you want.” 

“Sure?” 

“Actually yeah, pretty damn sure. Bring out a blanket too if you want.” 

Max lets go of her, standing up at the same time Chloe gets onto her own feet, breath hissing between her teeth as pins and needles shoot up her legs, knees nearly buckling from having turned numb. She would’ve sunk to the ground again if it weren’t for Max catching her in time, her hands gripping Chloe’s arms, holding her up. 

“Need me to help you to the truck?” 

“It’s fine, just waiting for my legs to stop hating me. Pins and needles suck ass.” 

Max winces sympathetically. “Ouch. I know that feeling.” 

Chloe waits until the pins and needles have mostly subsided away before returning to the truck, reaching inside for the ashtray on the dashboard and the spare rolls of smokes somewhere in the glovebox, while Max extracts a thick blanket large enough to cover both of them in the back of the truck, protecting them from the night air. 

Smokes and tray in hand, she walks to the back of the truck, dropping in her goods before pulling herself up and over, leaning her back up against the back window of the truck, stretching her legs out before her. She can hear rattling and a soft blanket being thrown over the side. 

“Need a hand up, Max?” 

A grunt from behind the truck, before Max’s head appears, followed by her shoulders. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Max says, “Short but not that short. That growth spurt might still come...” 

Chloe grabs the blanket, shaking it out as Max slings her legs over, half-falling onto the floor of the truck trailer.

“Sure, Caulfield.” 

Max shuffles over to Chloe, settling herself on the floor next to her. 

“Let a girl hope, Chloe.” 

“You’ll still be hoping when you’re twenty-eight, thirty-eight, sixty-eight.” 

“Shut up.” 

Chloe slings an arm around Max’s shoulders as the latter settles her head on her shoulder, one hand resting lightly on Chloe’s knee, fingers lightly playing with the fabric of her jeans. With their free hands, they pull the blanket up over their legs, chasing away the cool night air. It feels so good to have Max next to her, reminding her she’s not alone, she’s not going to be abandoned anytime soon.

Alive. She’s okay. 

She still can’t quite shake that image away, and Chloe tilts her head back, gazing up at the stars as if they might chase away the last dredges of that fucking nightmare. Instead, they remind her of a conversation she’d once had with Rachel. All the stars are dead. Every one of them. 

“I’d hate to be an astronomer,” Chloe finds herself saying, “Must be depressing.” 

“Says the girl who had solar system models in her room as a kid and wouldn’t shut up about Mars.” 

"The planets don’t give off light, so they’re good as dead anyway. But the stars...we were talking about them once--Rachel and I. She used to love the stars, until she found out their light takes so long to reach us they’re already dead.” 

“Really?” 

“Pretty shit really.” 

Max stays quiet for a few moments, tilting her head back a little, until she is looking at the stars as Chloe was. 

“This is going to sound so nerdy of me,” Max remarks after a time, “but on the night of the day I discovered my powers, I stayed up all night researching physics and time travel.” 

“No you didn’t.” 

“You should’ve seen all the notes I wrote--sticky-note city.” 

“So you like physics now?” 

“Umm...no. I just wanted to find out more about time travel theories.” 

“And?” 

A moment of silence. “I ended up going down so many tangents.” 

“That’s what happens when you research shit. Even bad shit.”

“One of the tangents led to an article on stars.” 

“Got there from some article about using black holes as wormholes to another reality?” 

“I don’t even remember anymore, but it’s likely.” 

“Black holes always terrified the shit out of me.” 

“They’re scary, alright. And just a little creepy.” 

“Hella fucking creepy.”

“But...I also found out a little more about stars in general.”

“Okay, Miss Stellar Physicist, tell me everything you know.”

Anything to distract me. The stars are as good as anything.

“First, they’re not all dead. It’s trippy to think about, but the sun is a star. Weird, right? I mean, not that it’s a star--that’s not weird--it’s just...thinking that the thing we see every day is a star just like all those other ones up there. It’s weird.” An exhalation, like that of someone who just had their mind blown. “Wowzers.” 

“Don’t they already teach kids that in school anyway?” 

“Yeah...but when you really stop and actually take time to think about it--and it’s just...weird to think that the sun really is like all those other stars out there. Or I had too much time on my hands.” 

Chloe can’t resist a grin. “Technically, yes, you do. All the time in the world to ponder the sun being a star.” 

“I admit, I did rewind a lot during that all-nighter.” 

“Of course you did. Who wouldn’t? You did do some homework during that all-nighter, right?” 

“Didn’t cross my mind. And since when did you care about homework?” 

“Eat me. What else did you find?” 

“Not all stars live fast and die young. The smallest and coolest ones can live for trillions of years. White dwarfs I think.” 

“White dwarfs? They’re the dead husks of stars. Zombies.” 

“Oh...I remember it was a dwarf star anyway.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

Max’s eyes seem to shine with the light of stars as she shifts to look up at Chloe. “It’s not all zombies and ghosts up there, Chloe. The universe is still alive. Like us. We’re here, we’re real. We’ll make this work for us. I want to believe there’s a better future.” 

“Onward to Seattle, right?” 

“I’m not even sure I’ll go back to school,” Max’s pinkie finds Chloe’s, hooks it through hers. “It would feel...weird. And lonely. What if I never like photography again? After what happened back in Arcadia Bay...” 

“You’ll find it again,” Chloe says, trying to put as much conviction in her words as she can, “Fuck Jefferson for all of this. If anyone is to blame for taking away your love of photography, it’s him, not you. Never you.” 

“This is going to sound horrible, but...” a deep sigh. “Part of me wants to give your camera back to you. I feel like I’ll never use it again.” 

Fuck you, Mr Jefferson. I hope you get sucked down a black hole and feel every bit of the spaghettification along the way. Go rot in fucking hell for destroying Max’s love for photography. 

“Hey, I won’t be offended if you do, Max. I’ll hang on to it until you’re ready.” 

“Whenever ‘ready’ will be.” 

“Whether it’s tomorrow or twenty years, I’ll make sure it’s waiting for you to pick it up again.” 

“Twenty years? Will film even be around then?” 

“There’s always going to be hippies like you who still love film. Of course it’ll be around in twenty years.” 

“Can’t imagine being so old. I’ll be thirty-eight.” 

“Gee, you’ll be so young. I’ll be thirty-nine. I’ll be the oldest pirate from Arcadia Bay. I’ll have earned my two wooden legs by then. So old.” 

“Not as old as the stars.” 

“Nearly as dead.” 

“Come on, Chloe, we’ll still have our adventures even then, right? We might not be pirates of Arcadia Bay anymore, but we’ll have each other.” 

“We need to upgrade. Twenty years is enough time to become space pirates, right?” 

Max’s smile is beautiful, even in the dark. “Space pirates on our way to Mars?” 

“Take over Olympus Mons while we can. I have dibs on Curiosity.” 

Max pouts, “Not fair, Chloe. At least share.” 

“No. There’s plenty of other robots on that planet for you to call dibs on.” 

"Fine.. Oppy and Spirit are all mine.” 

“Deal.” 

Chloe reaches out with a hand to her ashtray, taking a joint between her index and middle fingers, bringing it to her mouth, her inhalation long and slow before she removes the smoke and exhales smoke into the night, watching it curl with the wind to the stars. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind my hair smelling like weed, Chloe.”

“Smartass.” 

Max huddles close to her, a leg hooking over Chloe’s. Already, Chloe can feel her nightmare disappearing, its last dredges of horror slipping away from newly refreshed thoughts and distraction in the form of Max and their banter, and the burning stars rotating through the night high above their heads. And somewhere up there, surely, someone else was watching, assured of her triumphant revenge on Arcadia Bay. 

I hope you’re watching us from those stars, Rachel Amber. You would totally have joined us in our pirate misadventures, wherever we went. Today, Seattle, tomorrow the universe. We’ll kick the world’s ass together, for you, in your name. You’ll always be my angel.

[murdershegoat]

bygones

[on ao3]

"I know you’ve been coming here most nights,” Lena says, her tone clipped. “You trip the secret alarm every time and it’s really fucking annoying.”

She stands on the porch of a quaint log cabin, arms crossed against her chest. Kara hovers in front of her, her suit gleaming slightly against the darkness of the thick wood behind her. Lena had come here to escape all reminders of Kara. Finding a place with no reminders of Kara Danvers had proven difficult. This was the best she could do, and it was far from perfect. Kara being there wouldn’t really help with that. She lowers herself slowly to the ground, landing with a small ‘thud’. In the porch light, Lena can see the pain on her face. Lena imagines the same pain is reflected on hers.

“How did you know where I was?”

“I’ve been flying across America trying to find your heartbeat,” she admits. “It took me a few weeks.”

“I don’t want to see you,” Lena says, jutting out her jaw and desperately willing herself not to burst into tears at the thought of Kara flying around the United States of America just to find her. “You know I don’t want you here.”

“Do I know that, though?” Kara says, the hurt in her voice cutting straight through Lena. “You left without a word. I told you that I was-- I told you who I was and you just, you left. You disappeared, without telling anybody. I thought you were--”

“Oh, don’t pretend you care about me now, Kara,” Lena spits back.

“I do care about you, so much--”

“You made me look like a fool. Everybody knows, every single one of our friends, and I was left in the dark like a child. I mean, god, even my brother knew!”

“I didn’t tell Lex!”

“You think I care?? The point is you didn’t tell me, Kara! What is it, I couldn’t be trusted? Have I not proven myself enough yet?”

“Did you ever stop to think that this was never about you??” Kara bursts, finally raising her voice. “Maybe I liked having someone in my life who didn’t know I was some alien freak from another planet?”

“Save the sob story,” Lena says. “I don’t feel sorry for the superhero with a heart of gold and supportive friends and family and an entire world bowing at her feet.”

“Grow up, Lena,” Kara says. “I’m tired, I’m so tired of this.”

“Goodnight, Supergirl,” Lena says. She turns around and goes inside, locking the door behind her.

But she doesn’t leave.

Like she has done every night for the past month, Kara stays the night and she feels her heart ache as she listens to Lena cry.

///

It takes another couple of weeks for Lena to surface again. It’s a particularly rough night; wind tears through the trees, cold and harsh against the cabin. Lena’s in a thick cardigan, a blanket around her shoulders. She drops a blanket on the porch.

“I don’t get cold,” Kara says quietly with a smile.

“What?” Lena yells out over the gale.

“I said thank you,” Kara calls back, and Lena heads back inside.

The blanket is the itchiest blanket Kara has ever used. She knows Lena gave it to her on purpose.

She still wears it all night, and leaves it folded neatly on the porch in the morning.

///

Kara’s running late, not that Lena’s paying attention or anything. But it’s almost 3am and maybe she’s a little scared--

Kara lands in front of the porch, and Lena sighs with relief.

“Long night?” Lena calls out, and it almost feels normal, Kara being Supergirl and Lena being holed up here away from the outside world and the two of them spending their nights together like this.

“A bad one,” Kara says, her voice breaking. As she steps into the light, Lena can see her tear-stained cheeks, the slump in her shoulders, the dried blood flecked across her chest.

“What hap--” she decides maybe she doesn’t want the gruesome details. So she settles on, “are you okay?”

“I’m feeling a bit better now,” Kara says with a small smile. Lena ignores the way it makes her stomach feel heavy and squirmish inside her. Instead, she moves over so there’s enough room for Kara on the bench. Kara sighs as she sits, resting her head on the wall behind her and closing her eyes.

“Kara?” Lena says. Kara cracks one eye open and looks at her wearily.

“Yeah, Lena?”

“I think I’m ready.”

“For?”

“I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were Supergirl.”

Kara sits up straight, rubbing her eyes.

“Now?”

“No time like the present,” Lena shrugs.

“I guess… I guess I liked that you only knew Kara Danvers. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Supergirl, but…” She pauses and sighs. “I don’t know how to phrase what I’m thinking.”

“Take your time. We have all night. And tomorrow night. And the night after that--”

“I get it,” Kara says, chuckling. “Okay. Uh, Supergirl is supposed to be this beacon of goodness and hope, and I get to do so much good being her. But I’m also constantly terrified. I’ve got so much power inside me and I know what that power can do if I let my anger take over. It’s happened before - too many times - and I’ve hurt so many people I love. And they forgave me, thank god they forgave me, but Supergirl started to feel less and less good. She’s done too much damage and even if nobody else sees it, I feel it. And you, you only saw Kara and you saw the goodness in me without my emblem on my chest and it just felt… gosh, it felt so great. It’s probably just my own insecurities, but I always feel like Alex and Eliza look at me like I’m still a pre-pubescent refugee. And whenever they’d look at me with pity or whatever it made me so hyper-aware that I’d always be this lost kid in their eyes. But when I was with you, I didn’t have the responsibility of Supergirl or the baggage of Kara Zor-El and I could just… be.”

“Who the hell is Kara Zor-El?” Lena asks, and Kara bursts out laughing.

“Zor-El is my Kryptonian last name. Actually, it’s also my father’s first name.” Kara scrunches her nose. “Now that I think about it, the Kryptonian naming system is patriarchal as hell.”

“I mean, Earth’s is just as bad,” Lena smiles. She hesitates before adding, “do you remember much about Krypton.”

“I remember my father. His office had this smell, the closest thing to it I can find on earth is mahogany. I remember I walked into one of my college professor’s offices and he had this huge desk and it made me burst into tears as soon as it hit my nose. I remember when Kal-El, Superman, was born and all the adults in my family thought I’d be jealous of him but I remember being too obsessed with him to feel anything other than love. I remember the way my mom would try to be angry with me when she was holding back laughter, this weird wobble in her voice. I, uh, I remember seeing it explode. I’d never seen anything as bright in my life, it burned my eyes and it made my pod heat up and I thought I was gonna suffocate.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Kara smiles sadly. “That’s why I like being Kara Danvers. Kara Danvers isn’t one of the last of her kind, she doesn’t think about her family dying all the time. Kara Danvers doesn’t have as many reasons to be sad. And she has you.”

“Kara?”

“Yeah, Lena?”

“I’m sorry for reacting the way I did.”

Kara turns so she’s totally facing Lena. She puts a hand on her knee.

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry it made you feel like I didn’t trust you. I trust you more than anyone else. You’re my best friend, you’re--” she stops just for a moment. “You’re so extraordinary.”

“So that’s it,” Lena says. “Enough apologising. No more.”

Kara holds out her hand, ready for Lena to shake it.

“Bygones?” she jokes.

Lena pushes her hand aside, and leans forward. She kisses Kara slowly, softly, as though maybe she didn’t mean to do it. But Kara kisses her back, every inch of her body crying out finally!

All too soon, Lena pulls away, the promise of their future lying in the silence between them.

“Bygones,” she agrees. “Now. Will you fly me home?”

[sakumosowainthirst]

Odin teaching Ophelia her first spell

BABY’S FIRST SPELL, I LOVE IT!  Also, SO SORRY this took so long to fill, I’ve been in a writer’s block/busy period.

“Babe, I’m not so sure about this,” Corrin said with an anxious frown as she wrangled a squirming two-year-old Kana in her lap.

“Mamaaaa!” Ophelia whined, fists on her hips and her cheeks puffed out in a pout.  “I’m seven now, I’m big!”

“But magic isn’t a toy, Ophelia,” Corrin said, handing Kana a doll to preoccupy him so he’d settle.

“Worry not, beloved,” Owain said with a soft smile as he dug in his bag for the tome.  “I selected wind spells for her first proper foray into the arcane arts.  The most she can do is rustle some tree leaves.”

“Mama, Phelia big girl,” said Kana, cuddling the plush dragon in his small arms.  “Big girl magic.”

“That’s right, thank-you, Kana,” Ophelia said with a triumphant nod.

Outnumbered, Corrin sighed.  She and Owain had come to their children’s Deeprealm for a picnic to celebrate Ophelia’s birthday, and now that the meal was complete, it was time for Ophelia’s first time using real magic.  Owain had promised the girl this treat without consulting Corrin beforehand, and while she trusted Owain always had their daughter’s safety in mind, it still made Corrin a little anxious.  True, Ophelia had long-since mastered the children’s spells—conjuring bubbles and flower petals and little sparks of light—and Corrin agreed with Owain that the children should be trained in various combat principles, but something about her little girl taking this next step struck a parental chord of unease inside her.

“Please be careful,” Corrin said, eyeing Owain as he clambered to his knees to stand.

“Everything’s fine, Corr, I promise,” he said, leaning over and smooching her cheek.  “Owain Dark would never jeopardize the safety of his darling little ones.”

With a gentle sigh, Corrin nodded.  “I know.  Just don’t get too excited and overdo it, okay?”

“You have my word,” Owain said with a grin, stealing another cheek-peck before standing.  He turned to his daughter and tucked the tome by his hip, straightening into a more serious posture.  “All right, Ophelia.  Today you embark on the path towards sorcery!  I’m sure you understand this is a massive undertaking and should not be accepted lightly.”

“Yes!” Ophelia said, standing at attention, her arms flanking her sides.  “You and Mama told me not to fool around with magic, not even my toy tomes.”

“And hitherto this moment, you have shown respectable responsibility,” said Owain, nodding at her.  “You never leave your books lying around for Kana to discover, and you’ve only used them while supervised by myself, your mother, or your guardians.  Very commendable, Chosen Heroine Ophelia Dusk.”

Ophelia blushed, beaming from ear to ear.  “I’ve done everything you’ve taught me, Papa!”

“And I’m certain you’ll continue to impress, my first-born!” he said, mirroring her grin.  “So now, without further ado, let’s start with the basics.”  He walked several paces from the picnic blanket with Ophelia, and the two faced one another.  “Harnessing magic, my darling, takes a great amount of discipline and control,” said Owain, opening the tome and leafing to the proper page.  “Used incorrectly, you can cause great harm.  Even the simplest wind spell, if concentrated enough, can slice through armor.”  Owain demonstrated this by extending a hand and casting a sharp gust at a nearby bush, snapping a twig off it that plopped to the ground.  “Utilized delicately, the same spell can be less powerful than the gentlest breeze,” he continued, casting a small puff of air at Ophelia that barely rustled her hair, causing the girl to giggle.  “As a novice mage, you will most likely not have this sort of control.  However, I’d like you to demonstrate any amount of wind you can conjure.”  Bookmarking the page with his thumb, Owain turned the tome out to Ophelia, who reverently took it from him.  “The spell you need is here,” he said, indicating the symbols on the page.  “You’ve been studying your magic runes, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Papa,” Ophelia said with a nod, focusing on the page.

“Then I’d like you to hit me with your best gust.”

“Owain!” Corrin shouted, eyebrows knitting together.  “You just got finished explaining how this sort of thing could be dangerous!”

“Relax, beloved, I’m sure at her level, Ophelia can at best conjure a mild breeze,” Owain said with a hand raised in supplication.

Corrin gave him a leer that clearly stated she didn’t like this but sighed nonetheless.  “So long as you’re sure.”

“All right, Ophelia, give me your best shot!” Owain said, planting his fists on his hips.  “The Chosen Hero is braced for your mightiest gale!”

Ophelia glanced between the book and her father a few times before taking her stance.  Bringing her hand up into casting position, she recited the spell.

Nothing happened.

“Remember, pronunciation is important, too, Ophelia,” Owain instructed.  “Give it another try.”

She did, but still, nothing.  Unsure, she looked from her father to her mother.

“You can do it, honey,” Corrin said with an encouraging smile.  “Just concentrate.”

“Yes, focus is another important element of—”

Ophelia’s third attempt produced a gust so forceful that it caught the unprepared Owain completely unawares, cutting off his comment and knocking him flat on his back.  For the space of a few seconds, no one moved.  Ophelia stood with her palm still outstretched, eyes wide, and Corrin’s jaw slackened a fraction.

“Oh my gods!” said Corrin, setting Kana aside and scrambling to her feet.  “Babe, are you okay??”

“Papa fall down!” Kana exclaimed as he toddled after his mother.

Sitting up, Owain gave his head a brisk shake and ruffled his hair, momentarily stunned.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Corrin asked anxiously as she hovered over him.

“Papa, owie?” Kana asked.  He turned to Ophelia and then back to Owain, tilting his head.  “‘Phelia give Papa owie?”

“Papa, I’m so sorry!” Ophelia said as she approached, eyes pleading apology.  “I didn’t control things like you said, and I—”

Owain accepted Corrin’s assistance to his feet and dusted his clothes, holding up a hand to silence everyone.  Rounding on Ophelia, he fixed her with a stern gaze.  “Ophelia,” he said, tone serious, causing the girl to flinch in preparation for a scolding.  “That.  Was.  AMAZING.”  Before Ophelia could react, Owain swooped her into his arms and spun her above his head in a circle, laughing vibrantly.  “To think my daughter could conjure such a powerful gale on her first try!  You, my little one, are destined to become a powerful mage!”

Relieved, Ophelia giggled and enjoyed her father’s playful spinning.  “Just like you, Papa!”

“Indeed!” Owain said, holding Ophelia high in the air by the armpits.  “Together we shall astound the world with our arcane prowess!”

“Papa, up!” Kana said, tugging on Owain’s pant leg.  He stretched his arms up at his father.  “Me too, me too!”

“You too, huh?” Owain said with a toothy grin, gently placing Ophelia on the ground and lifting Kana into the air as well, laughing along with the toddler’s shriek of joy.  “You’ll shock and amaze too, won’t you, my boy?  Owain Dark’s progeny will change the world, just you wait!”

Giggling, Corrin joined Owain’s side as he gave Kana a nose kiss before setting him on the ground again.  “I suppose my inheritance doesn’t count for much, does it?” she said with a shrewd grin.

“But of course, my dragonlily!” said Owain, framing her cheeks and plastering a smooch on her lips.  “It’s because of you our darling children are twice as amazing.”

Kana pulled at his father’s trousers again.  “Papa, Mama up, too!”

A devious smile curled Owain’s lips, and Corrin’s eyes widened.  “No.  Owain, no.  No, no no nooo—!”

The sound of four distinct joyful giggles echoed on the breeze.

[demon-scarecrow]

Spec/Demon ficlet

Written as a prompt from @waterwindow and @spellfireserpent

It’s cracky. There’s also smut so be warned and such.

Etrigan grinned, baring a row of too-sharp teeth as he flicked his tongue out, licking the blood and viscera from his talons. Sometimes being a "good guy" could be a great deal of fun, he considered as he looked over the field of slain low-level demons. The Spectre was more aloof, not a spatter having landed upon him since he did not wish it. He glanced over at the Rhymer who was covered in filth and fluids and gave a small huff of disapproval. "It is not necessary to throw yourself into things so much. It shows a lack of flair." The demon looked entirely nonplussed as he finished licking his claws clean, now the only part of him which was not caked in demonic blood. The grin never faded from his face as he slowly crossed the field to his current comrade-in-arms. "You heavenly types are all such a bore, though I wouldn't have pegged you as having trouble with gore." Etrigan chuckled as he pressed himself up against the Spectre, mostly in order to smear the divine being with the same blood that coated him. "The time for fighting I'd say is done, let us instead have a different kind of fun." The grin on his face grew even wider as he spread his palm against the Vengeance of God's chest. The thought of rutting with him and staining him with his demonic seed was quite tempting. Although the Spectre was more than a little annoyed at the demon sullying him with base demon blood, he couldn't help but smirk a bit at Etrigan's offer. He found the yellow skinned Rhymer both infuriating and enthralling. A demon who more often than not found himself allied with the forces of good. Hooking a gloved finger under the creature's chin, he tilted his face upward and bent his head to kiss the infernal being. "Indeed. Just take care with your claws. I haven't the same taste for pain as you do." With a hearty laugh, Etrigan allowed the Spectre to press his mouth to his. The divine being nipping in an almost playful manner at his lower lip, which drew a soft growl that might have been mistaken for a purr from the demon. Sharp claws made quick work of the pair of green shorts that the Spectre wore, leaving light scratches against pale skin. This made the Spectre pull back and regard his partner with a slight quirked brow as he slid a strong hand around Etrigan's throat. "What did I just say about being careful with your claws?" The demon gripped the Spectre by the hips and ground his still clad, but rapidly stiffening lower half against him, lust lighting his blazing red eyes. "That you did and no mistake. I've been a bad boy and my punishment I'll take!" He pressed his neck harder against the Spectre's hand and the spirit shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "You are incorrigible. But if punishment is what you crave, that is my specialty." Releasing the demon's throat he made a gesture at the wrist, flicking his hand and banishing Etrigan's clothing, as well as instantly cleaning him up as he found the thought of coupling with him while he was so filthy vile. Etrigan gave him a lightly annoyed look as he had been looking forward to making the Spectre equally as filthy as him, but he would take enough satisfaction in fucking his partner among the corpses of his slain enemies. The Spectre kissed the demon again, more roughly this time, biting and sucking at his mouth without mercy as Etrigan opened to him quite willingly. Then with zero warning the spirit of vengeance had shoved the demon roughly to his knees before him. Etrigan looked up at him with a hungry look. "Blasphemy's always fun to do, I'd be glad to worship you." The look that Spec shot Etrigan was positively murderous, but rather than destroying the demon kneeling at his feet he merely gripped him by the finned ears and forced himself down Etrigan's throat. "If you bite me, I'm removing your teeth until we're done here." He threatened, but that was the furthest thing from Etrigan's mind as he wrapped his forked tongue around the Spectre's shaft, swallowing him as saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying himself. The Spectre kept his grip on the demon's finned ears, pulling him down onto his shaft and fucking his mouth with little regard to his comfort or pleasure. Of course Etrigan was able to see to his own enjoyment, one clawed hand gripping the spirit's hip and the other slipping between his own legs to stroke himself as he licked and sucked the Spectre's erection. For the moment he was being careful about his claws as he gripped his lover, but the tips of them were pressed just enough to indent his flesh and tease him with the knowledge that he was absolutely capable of rending his skin if he felt like it. "You're pushing it, Etrigan. Behave or I'll have to restrain you." Spectre warned, and Etrigan grunted around him, but did shift his fingers so that only the pads touched his flesh. Meanwhile Etrigan continued to stroke himself in tandem with the rhythm that the Spectre had taken to fuck his throat. He lapped at him eagerly, wanting to drive him into a frenzy. There was just something about a holy being losing himself to lust that was just so enticing. The Spectre had settled into a steady rhythm, sliding his hands from Etrigan's ears to the top of his head, stroking his scalp and rewarding him for behaving with soft touches, even as he continued to thrust hard and fast and heedless of Etrigan's comfort down his throat. The two grunted as Etrigan pleasured the Spectre, the both of them already with blood flowing--so to speak--from the battle beforehand. Etrigan purred around the Spectre as he felt his thrusts becoming more desperate and erractic, feeling the very few shreds of self-control that the spirit had to begin with eroding with each flick of the demon's tongue. It wasn't long before Spectre was throwing his head back and shoving Etrigan's head down onto him as he came, his cloak flowing as though caught in a gale wind as Etrigan stroked himself to completion as well. The mingling of their two essenses beginning to become more of a physical thing as the Spectre's cloak enfolded the demon and they began to merge. In the next moment the combined being reeled on it's heels and looked down at itself. Pale yellow skin wrapped in a green cloak as the physical forms of the Spectre and Etrigan had combined into one. And that was less disturbing to them than suddenly having four dissenting voices in their head as Jim and Jason stirred from those deep dark places that they resided while their other halves handled business and demanded to know just what the hell had happened. The combined being wavered as it took a couple of steps, trying to find a happy medium between the damned and the divine. "This is not something that should be. We must separate." The being shook it's head again and answered itself in a deep gravelly voice that reverberated with unspeakable power. "Perhaps if we revert to something more...human." As both beings were mystical and had the potential of shifting their appearance in some ways either through holy or demonic magic, the flux of their beings might have had something to do with it. But Jason and Jim were quite a bit more solid than either of them. The combined being closed it's eyes and blurred slightly as it tried to separate into the two men. Unfortunately, there was still only one when the attempt was finished. Jason/Jim--Jimson? Jam?--Looked down at himselves. The two gingers were quite similar in appearance so at least everything looked mostly familiar, but felt anything but. One eye of red and one of green, hair shifting in a gradient from a bright almost orange to a deep red with the familiar white streak still in the same place as it was on both men. "I think...we might need help" Whether it was Jim or Jason who voiced the thought was hard to tell, but all four personalities encased in the single form were in agreement. They even were able to concur on whom they should call upon first. Madame Xanadu knew all of them quite intimately and was extremely versed in the occult. If there was an answer, they could only hope she would possess it. Summoning a portal, the combined being exited the battlefield and stepped through to Madame Xanadu's parlor, ignoring the fact that he was still completely naked in his haste to correct what Spectre and Etrigan had accidentally caused. Fortunately for them, the fortune teller was more than used to both Jason and Jim's unusual procliveties so the only thing they got was a raised brow and a rather amused smile. "You seem to have gotten yourselves into trouble. And this is why you should stick to threesomes with me. I would never have let you do something so stupid. Let me guess, you're stuck?" The combined man glowered at the woman "Don't tease. This wasn't our fault. Talk to the other two." Upon finding out that the current situation was the result of Spectre and Etrigan, two beings who absolutely should have known better, Xanadu broke into a fit of hysteric laughter. Far less amused was Jam--which was what the Jason and Jim hybrid had decided to refer to himself as for the moment--who just stood and glowered. "It's not funny." He insisted. "Oh no, it very much is. You're just on the wrong side of the joke to appreciate it, my dears!" The woman continued to cackle, seemingly unable to stop herself. Jam ran an exasperated hand through his hair. Fortunately it seemed that they might not have to rely on Xanadu solely as the Phantom Stranger materialized, taken aback by what he saw and sensed before him. "What have you done?" He asked aghast. "It wasn't me! Us! Argh! It was Moonface and Ettie! They couldn't fucking well keep it in their pants and now...well look at us!" Jam was starting to get more than a little angry and frustrated by the situation. Each side of the combined being was used to his mystical other half causing them headaches, but this was far more of a pain than their usual antics. It was bad enough having to share a body with their other halves, but at least they were used to getting their own form back afterward. A very faint smirk could be seen turning up the corner of the Stranger's mouth as he regarded the man. "You should calm yourself." In the background, Xanadu was STILL laughing. "Can we go somewhere else and discuss this? Someone is not being helpful." Jam shot a pointed look at Xanadu, which only sent her into another fit of giggles. "Oh, I'm so sorry, but this really is hilarious. You two idiots really get yourselves into the most ridiculous situations!" Jam grunted in annoyance and turned to the Stranger. "Get us out of here and tell us how to fix this." "As you wish..." With a wave of his hand the Stranger had transported them away and was still smirking. Oh, he was never ever going to let the two of them live this down. "Perhaps there's also something else you should be concerned about" The Stranger's blank white eyes flicked down to glance at Jam's uncovered groin. The combined man just rolled his eyes and groaned more. The Jason portion of the creation seemed more okay with this than Jim would have preferred. "Does this happen a lot?" He asked himself, and the shared form nodded. "Constantly. You're lucky that Spectre doesn't have the same sense of humor as Etrigan." Jim was more than a little disturbed. "That sounds completely awful." The Stranger interjected by raising a finger and clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should focus on the problem at hand." With another slight wave Jam was provided with a set of clothes. "Thank you. So...can't you just...do your weird Stranger mumbo jumbo and fix us?" It wasn't hard to figure out which side that was coming from as Jam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think if he could do it, so could the Spectre." His eyes narrowed for a moment as he considered something. "Etrigan! If this is your idea of a joke..." Somewhere inside the deep dark depths of the shared mind the demon roused himself and insisted that he had naught to do with their current predicament, shifting the blame to the Spectre, who took offense and very soon Jam was holding his head in pain as the two mystical powerhouses fought within him. "This is the worst thing ever! How do I make it stop!" The Stranger looked at the being before him and gave them a slightly apologetic expression. "I'm afraid I did not appear in order to aid you with your current situation. Your attention is needed elsewhere." Jam just stared at him, mouth agape. "You have GOT to be joking. I can't do anything...like this!" "Then it is fortunate you two are not the ones I need." The ginger haired man glared at the Stranger. "Nobody is doing anything until we are ourselves again. So you'd better start thinking of solutions." The Stranger looked quite unimpressed by the threat. "And I shall. I will think of one while you deal with Belial, who even now is near to breaking out of Hell and manifesting on this plane of reality." As much as Jam hated to admit it, that was not something that could be ignored. Still, they didn't feel they were in any condition to deal with it in their current state, and letting out a combined Spectre and Etrigan was likely not the best idea. "Then you deal with him." "I cannot. You know that I am forbidden from interfering in--" "Oh DAMN your excuses! We don't want to hear it!" Jam interrupted with a burst of anger. The Stranger bowed his head slightly. "I must apologize, but I will endeavor to have a solution when you have completed your task." Flinging forth his hand he stared at the combined being. "Now show your other halves and do what must be done!" The pocket dimension where the Stranger had brought them faded as Jim and Jason receded into the background and the combined form of Etrigan and Spectre--who Etrigan had decided should refer to themselves as Spectrigan--was sent to deal with Belial. The archfiend was, doubtless, expecting someone to come and stand against him as he made his way toward the exit to Hell, most likely even expecting his son to be one of them, but what he saw before him was certainly not anything he had expected. Spectrigan merged the features of the two beings so that both were discernable within and Belial folded his arms and frowned. "Either the Spirit of Vengeance has developed a very poor sense of humor, or my son has forgotten that he is not yet so old that I will not thrash him for being foolhardy. Whichever it is, I care not. But you will not stall me." Spectrigan straightened itself, both halves of it insulted by Belial's words. "Neither. I am both your son and the Spectre. And neither intends to allow you to pass." Belial's eyes widened for a moment and then he growled, a tendril of hellfire curling from his nostrils in his rage. "What you are is an abomination! No son of mine is going to be a feather fucker!" If Spectrigan was insulted before, he was enraged now. Normally at least the portion that was Etrigan would have drawn out the fight to increase his own enjoyment, now he was too angry to even think of allowing Belial to stand. The combined being flung itself at the demon lord, demonic claws out and holy fire blazing from it's eyes. Belial was knocked back by the force of the combined assault. More than a little disturbed by how well his son and the Spectre worked in tandem. He attempted to put up a defense, but Spectrigan gave him no chance to mount a proper countermeasure. The being pressed it's advantage, showing no quarter to the demon lord. While it bit and clawed and projected a mixture of holy and hellflame from it's hands, the very landscape around them also twisted to the Spectre's power and joined in the attack. Stalagmites and stalagtites shifted and twisted themselves to pin the archfiend, elongating to sharp points and skewering through his flesh, pinning him in place. Once he was sufficiently subdued, it focused it's powers and knowledge of Hell to cast Belial away into Masak Mavdil, where it would take him ages to pull himself out. And that would be only after he had healed from the multitude of damage that he had taken. Still broiling over with rage and the urge to battle, Spectrigan took it's leave of the Hellscape around it and returned to where the Stranger had been. Leveling a look of great anger at the wandering spirit. "Belial is dealt with. Now you'd better have an answer for how we're to fix this!" While Spectrigan stared at the Stranger with blazing eyes, the other man remained calm. "In point of fact, I have. I called in someone who should be able to solve this for you both. He should be here presently." The Phantom Stranger began to fade from view, Spectrigan holding out a hand and calling after him. "Don't dare leave me! Who did you call you miserable bastard?" "ME" A single word was spoken behind them and they turned, although they needn't have. There was only one being in the cosmos that either of them knew who could put that much power into a single syllable. "Michael. Are we to assume that the Stranger informed you of the situation?" The archangel nodded, keeping any opinions he had about what had transpired between them to himself. "I HAVE BEEN INFORMED. AND I CAN ASSIST YOU. BUT PLEASE. DO NOT EVER DO THAT AGAIN. THE ANGELIC AND THE DEMONIC WERE NOT MEANT TO CONSORT." Reaching out his powerful arms, he took the combined being by the shoulders and pulled. The Spectre and Etrigan howled as they were separated. Michael was being kind enough to aid them, but he was not so soft as to make sure that it didn't hurt. Otherwise they would learn nothing. When it was done, Michael looked at the two separated entities and nodded. "IT IS DONE. SEE THAT YOU ARE MORE CAREFUL IN THE FUTURE." Etrigan spoke up, jostling the Spectre with his arm. "For your help thanks I owe thee, but as for who's to blame look to him and not me!" The Spectre turned to look at the demon with death reflecting in his eyes. "You blame me? How dare you, pitspawn! If it was anything it was your corrupted influence that caused the problem!" Growling, Etrigan bared his teeth and little wisps of hellfire slid form between them. "Stupid spirit reel in thy pride! For this the blame I'll not abide!" Losing his temper, no matter how hard Jim tried to hold him back, the Spectre leapt at Etrigan and knocked him back, grappling with the beast. Within Etrigan Jason screamed for him to just, for once in his life, let it go, but the demon would not heed him and fought back, biting and scratching at the disgraced angelic being. "IT IS NEVER WISE TO LET YOUR PASSIONS REIGN. YOU MUST HOLD YOURSELF IN CHECK LEST YOU LOSE YOURSELF." But Michael's warning came too late. The two had already remerged, though that didn't stop the fight. Spectrigan was still rolling on the ground punching itself and shouting threats and curses. Michael just sighed and shook his golden locks, walking away until the two had calmed down and were ready to behave.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni 

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention 

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

 An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!” 

 Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer. 

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust. 

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned. 

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

 He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him? 

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.” 

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil. 

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.” 

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.” 

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?” 

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe. 

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

 He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot. 

“Not a chance, now go!” 

Cold. 

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant. 

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation. 

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?” 

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.” 

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

 She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?” 

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That’s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.” 

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?” 

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.” 

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile. 

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.   

 Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.  

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat. 

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would. 

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?” 

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.” 

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit. 

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.  

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart. 

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion. 

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.” 

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess. 

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him. 

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest. 

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”  

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once. 

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

[amwritesstuff]

Pop the Bubble

I’ve had this idea bouncing around for a really powerful quirk that's deceptively labeled 'Bubbles’.

I'm thinking about making a little story regarding it, and still might after I've caught up on all my other writing things, but for now, have this little shot that kicked me awake from a deep sleep the other morning.

It had been slow. Too slow. Wa-ay too slow. Literally nothing had been happening for three god damn weeks. And Ground Zero was about to blow a fucking fuse.

Said Hero sat at his desk, head buried in his arms to keep himself from glancing at the clock for the nth time that day. He was caught up in all his paperwork and had organized it in six different ways. The most exciting thing on the news for the past few days was the multiple births of some panda cubs. He had even gone through his social media pages but quit after an hour of being bombarded with notifications he couldn't give two shits about.

He grunted when a knock rattled his desk, having a pretty good idea who it was. “Hey, man,” yep, Kirishima. “I know things are not your speed right now, but you've got to at least look busy.”

“With what?” He picked his head up enough to peak out. “I've done everything. Fuck, I even went to a couple of the interns to see if they needed anything.”

Kirishima looked away in thought. “Huh, that explains it…”

“... Explains what?”

“Oh!” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at Kirishima's knowing smile. “I overheard some of them talking about how they thought they weren't doing a good enough job because a Hero demand they give up some of their workload. Might need to talk to them about it. They're kinda stressing themselves out…”

“They're interns. They need a fire lite under their asses every now and then to keep'em on their toes,” he put his head back down. It was blissfully quiet for a moment; nothing but the static of office background. Until Kirishima opened his stupid mouth again.

“We could go spar?”

The blond heaved a sigh as he stood, reaching for his gauntlets. “I can only pummel your sorry ass so many times. Think I'll just go on patrol. Grab a bite while I'm out.”

“Oh, cool! I'll come with! Not like I'm doing anything either.”

The outside was just as uneventful as the inside had been in terms of excitement. However, it was outside, among fresh air and the bustle of city life, so it was better. The Heroes had been stopped by fans a few times during their route, but beyond that, they might as well have been off duty.

“I can't believe this… I came to this location because crime is higher. What gives!” Kirishima nudged his friend in warning to keep his voice down.

“Dude, I know it's boring, but don't complain! Being bored in our line of work is a good thing! Enjoy it while it lasts.”

He was right, Bakugou knew that. There a small fraction of him that was genuinely glad things were as peaceful as they currently were. He was just so done with being cooped up at his desk, not doing anything. As much as he despised doing them, he was actually contemplating setting up some interviews that he had previously turned down.

A panicked voice carrying over the city sounds gained his attention. He caught sight of a frantic woman through the crowd, calling out and looking every which way. Before he or his companion could fully turn to approach her, she spotted them, nearly knocking people over in her rush to get to them.

“Please!” She latched onto Red Riot, who had been closer. “Please! My baby! Please! I c-can't-” she choked on her own babbling sobs.

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down! Take a breath! We can't help if you can't tell us what's wrong!” Bakugou couldn't help but be grateful that the redhead was the one she had got to first. Kirishima's natural way with people, even in stressful situations, he would never cease to be a bit envious of. The woman calmed after a few gulps of air. “Alright, now, what's happened? What about your baby?”

“I-I can't find them! We were over by the pet stall in the outdoor market and I let go of their hand to dig in my purse for just a second!” She hiccuped, becoming increasingly more hysterical. “They didn't answer my calls or make any sounds! They're sh-shy so they always stay close-close to me wh-when we go out anywhere, and they weren't under any of the t-tables, o-or- or-”

Kirishima caught her in a strong embrace as she started to crumble. He gave comforting words as he and Bakugou shared a look. It wasn't unusual for small children to wander away from their parents. Not even for a shy kid that would normally stick to their parents’ side if something got their attention. It was what might've gotten enough of their attention to wander far enough out of range that was worrisome.

Kirishima pulled the woman back enough to make eye contact, beaming that sunshine smile of his. “Don’t worry, ma'am! I'm sure they just got distracted and are fine. Can you tell us what they look like?”

She sniffled, seeming to be taking to Red Riots words. “They're not yet five, wearing a-” her head snapped away as several loud bangs and screams rang out. The woman was trying to escape Kirishima's grasp to run in the direction people were running from. The outdoor market.

Bakugou was already moving, now feeling like shit for complaining about being bored as a massive explosion rang out. A kid was missing and it was looking like a villain might be involved with it. He swore as he blasted his way above the crowd.

The area was scarce save for a few stragglers and shop keepers that were too stubborn to leave their wares. Bakugou spun in place once he landed, getting the layout and where the potential threat might be. He saw nothing as he ran in a direction. He skid to a stop upon turning a corner, taking in the destruction.

Stalls, furniture, and goods were piled on either side of the street, into large circular indents made into side building walls. There were items that looked as though they had been flattened into the ground, the concrete cracked and bowing inward. Like something had forced everything back from a center point. There were more of these indents farther down, though on much smaller scales and not as impactful. Now, he just needed to find the asshole responsible for all this.

A sound of sucking air coming from behind caused him to spin on his heel, hand out and crackling with carefully restrained power. He was still aware that a kid was missing; an easy go to for a hostage. Only, there was no one behind him. But there was a transparent orb that he almost missed, gently floating at about eye level.

He kept his hands up, on guard for any movement as he slowly made his way over. He stopped a little more than arm's length from it. This close it looked more like a bubble, a bit bigger than his head. No one was around.

“Goddamnit- WHERE ARE YOU HIDING-!?”

BANG

He was blown back from a forceful gale. He managed to stay on his feet, whipping around for the source. The bubble was gone and in its place was a new crack in the street. The source of the destruction. But where were they coming from?

The same sound of sucking air came a little ways off, above him. He spotted the bubble, sitting there oh so innocently, just seeable against the sky. Several more appeared, growing into existence like someone was blowing up balloons. There were no more than two at a time. When a new one appeared, a previous one would loudly pop in an expulsion of air. They were moving up.

His eyes followed ahead of the path they were making- There! A figure hovering high above the low buildings. That was either the missing kid or the villain responsible, much farther away. The way he was lead to see them made a voice in his mind scream trap. However, Bakugou was not one for idle standing by to work things through. He was best when doing in the moment.

He wasted little time blasting his way up, the figure quickly growing closer. He allowed momentum to carry him upward, just past them to give himself enough time to see what he was dealing with. He hung in the air above them for less than a few seconds, but it was enough.

A small child was in a bubble just big enough for them, bawling hysterically, desperately reaching for him as he began to drop. There wasn't a sound coming from them. The bubble might very well be soundproof, which would explain why no one had heard the no doubt ear-shattering screams they were making. Bakugou was in slight relief. The kid was found, scared out of their mind, but seemingly unharmed… but where the hell was the villain? He didn't know if he could get them out of that bubble without causing them harm. Then there was the matter of safely getting them down-

The bubble holding the kid popped suddenly, knocking Bakugou away as the kids scream dropped past him.

Panic in his belly and heart in his throat, Bakugou shot after them. He had just managed to grab onto them when another, bigger bubble appeared around the kid, engulfing his hands and half of his gauntlets in with them. The bubble came to a stop in midair, Bakugou following after, gravity causing him to roll until he was dangling under it. His arms felt as though they were being pulled out of their sockets from the abrupt stop. How the fuck was this holding him?!

Taking a quick glance down, he saw they were still a good ways from the ground. He looked back up into the bubble. The kid was looking at him through tears, snot, and spit, mouthing something he could just hear but not make out, gripping onto his hand like a vice. He couldn't say he blamed them. Hanging this high in the air with no control or anything to hold on to was not a pleasant position to be in.

It was in that moment, when he realized the kid was apologizing, did a thought strike him.

”They're not yet five…”

His eyes widened upon noticing the bubble quiver. “Oh, fucking hell-"

He was more ready for the blast this time. The kid had one hell of a grip on his hand, thankfully. With the help of his feet, he managed to get the gauntlet off the arm not attached to the kid, flinging it away. He pulled them in close, securing them to his chest with his naked arm, making sure their face was buried into his neck.

He yelled for the kid to close their eyes and hang on tight, little arms nearly choking him being the only clue he got that they'd heard. He turned his body to face the ground that was quickly approaching. He might have spotted movement below him, but the smoke from the painfully massive one-handed explosion blocked his view.

Blast after blast he let out, desperately trying to slow down in time. His arm was screaming in strain, the explosions becoming weaker. The only plan that seemed to be on repeat was to land on his back to minimize damage to the kid, but slow down enough so he would receive minimum damage. He thought that a voice came to his ear, but with the roaring wind and his own rapid pulse, he wasn't sure.

He paused in his explosions, needing to see how close to the ground they were. Too close. He started to turn and shift the kid as they fell past the top of the nearest building. He barely comprehended a figure standing there.

He shut his eyes, bracing for impact when something wrapped around his torso multiple times. They were jerked, being pulled to fall at an arch rather than straight down. He felt the heels of his boots drag across concrete for an agonizing second, before lifting, slamming into something soft enough to survive the landing, but hard enough to really feel the full impact.

He gasped, not realizing he hadn't been breathing, as he settled into whatever he was laying on. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, seeing the sky being bordered by tarp material. It took him a moment to realize the static in his ears were muffled voices, growing louder and more clear as the adrenalin slowly ebbed away.

He grunted at the weight on his chest shifted, almost forgetting that they were there. The kid was trembling something awful, small sniffles and hiccups escaping. His neck felt sticky. Tears and snot most likely, he thought with a grimace.

He slowly sat up with some difficulty, finding his arms bound to him, shushing the kid as their grip tightened from the movement. Despite his restricted movement, he tried to pull them away as much as he could to assess any damage, but they refused to let go, whimpering and snuggling deeper each time Bakugou attempted. Not even his (less) harsh commands would loosen their grip. Sucking his teeth in defeat, he pulled himself up to crawl out to the open.

“Hey! You alright?” Bakugou came face to stupid helmet with Cellophane. He thought this tape looked familiar.

“Fine. Now, get me the hell out of this!”

A short time passed, explaining the situation to authorities as he was cut from Sero's tape. The kid still clung to him tightly. They would cry the second they would feel someone grab them and only settle when left alone. Not even Kirishima could talk them from letting go. In fact, as soon as they saw the redheads sharp smile, they started screaming right in Bakugou's ear, which in turn caused him to yell for Kirishima to fuck off. So, medics did what they could to work around.

As annoying as it was, Bakugou couldn't help but feel a bit smug that they felt so safe around him. Not to mention the media catching him allowing a small scared child to cling to him would really help boost his ratings. His PR agent was going to be over the moon with all the shit he usually got.

It was only when the frantic woman from earlier came forward did they finally move. The calm that had finally settled over them being shattered to wails as they reached for their mother. Bakugou had to admit as he watched them walk away, that he felt good. He'd never say it out loud, but he had started to feel… warm when that kid was clinging to him like a lifeline. His chest was starting to feel a bit cold now.

“Hey,” he glanced to Kirishima, who had slung his arm over his shoulder to watch with him. His face was scrunched. “You smell that?”

Now that he mentioned it, yeah, Bakugou could pick up something… coming from him. He picked at his costume, noticing a bit of dampness to it. He brought his nose to it and took a whiff.

“Are you shitting me?! That little brat fucking pissed on me!”

[razieltwelve]

Clash of the Titans (Final Nexus)

Pilot Diana glanced into the monitor displaying the auxiliary life support unit. “Are you guys all buckled in? Because if you’re not, you’ve got about ten seconds before this ride gets really bumpy.”

Marshal Lightning nodded as she pulled a communications console/monitor over to her harness. “Can you pass on some information about your weapons systems? I’d like to help.”

On the other side of the chamber, Killer Lightning smiled. “I would also like to -”

“No.” Final Averia’s eyes narrowed. “Do not give her anything.”

Killer Lightning sighed melodramatically. “Such little trust. I understand that in another universe, you would be my daughter.”

“And I understand that in your universe, you are a criminal.” Final Averia glared. “Don’t think I missed the marks on your wrists. You’ve spent a lot of time in handcuffs or other restraints.”

The killer smiled. “Oh, I like you. Not many people notice things like that.”

“Anyway,” Pilot Diana said. “Brace yourselves. We’re about to go into battle.”

X     X     X

Guardian Alpha was the greatest Eidolon ever built. It feature far more powerful and more advanced weapons that any other Eidolon, and it had the highest power:weight ration in history. It weighed two and a half thousand tonnes, but that extra weight wasn’t just there for show. It could tear a Category VII fal’Cie apart with its bare hands, and its weapons array was enough to engage multiple Category VII’s and win before they could even close in for melee combat.

It was, without a doubt, the pinnacle of its world’s engineering, the world’s instrument of vengeance against the monsters that had plagued them for so long.

But today, it was up against something far larger than itself.

“Diana,” Pilot Averia said. “Can we get any scans on that thing?”

“Give me a second…” Diana’s eyes widened. “Estimated weight is one hundred thousand tonnes. There’s no way it’s actually using its wings to fly. I’m picking up a host of energy anomalies and massive gravitational distortions to boot.”

Claire smirked. “Light it up?”

Averia nodded. “Diana… light it up.”

Guardian Alpha’s shoulder plates unfolded to release its two gigantic shoulder-mounted plasma cannons. Each of them had output that dwarfed the plasma cannons once wielded by the Mark IIIs of the original Odin’s generation more than a hundred fold. At the same time, Guardian Alpha’s fists transformed, revealing an additional pair of electromagnetic discharge cannons - essentially, lightning guns.

“Fire when ready,” Averia said.

“Commencing fire!” Diana cried. “Let’s see how it likes this.”

What followed was an ear splitting roar as both lightning cannons fired, the thunder created so loud that the sheer force of it actually shoved the massive Eidolon back half a step. On its shoulders, its plasma cannons unleashed bolts of brilliant plasma, each strong enough to completely immolate the chest cavity of a Category VII fal’Cie.

The attacks struck the monstrous shape in the sky with terrible force. The clouds tore, and the sky was suddenly too bright to look at. Yet when the light faded, the creature was barely damaged at all. The wounds it had suffered already beginning to heal as its twisted, amorphous shape began to extrude tentacles, claws, and teeth.

“Well, damn.” Diana’s eyes narrowed. “That thing sure can take a beating and it looks like it’s -”

Her words were cut off as Claire and Averia moved together, hurling the Eidolon out of the path of a dozen tentacles that lanced out of the creature’s body and dug deep into the desert sand. The tentacles lashed out to the side, barbs, blades, and other additions forming as the creature turned dozens of eyes toward them.

“Keep firing!” Claire shouted. “Aim for the eyes!”

“I know!” Diana shouted back. “I know!”

Averia split her attention between the tentacles and the rest of the creature’s body. It was why she had the time to yell a warning. “Watch out! Incoming!”

The creature suddenly fired a volley of shadowy spores. The Eidolon tumbled out of the way. The spores struck the desert and immediately began to eat away at the sand, dissolving it into pure nothingness.

“Okay… we can’t get hit by those,” Diana said. She was firing as quickly as the Eidolon’s position would allow, but none of their shots seemed to be doing sufficient damage. “How about we try cutting those off?”

“Right.” Averia clenched her fist. “Engage Dragon Claws.” The machine’s right fist transformed back into its fist form, and a long blade extended from its wrist. As the next tentacle rushed toward them, they pivoted away from it and swung their right arm out. The tentacle came lose, black blood spewing everywhere, and they turned to fire another bolt of lightning at the closest eye.

“I think it felt that,” Claire said as the creature hissed and wailed. “Keep cutting those off!”

X     X     X

Divine Diana and Gary watched the battle with a growing sense of admiration.

“That giant automaton isn’t half bad,” Diana said. “But we can’t let them have all the fun.” She raised her sword. “Aim for the tentacles, Gary. I’ll aim for the main body.”

The raccoon rushed through the air, his trumpet playing a wild, discordant rhythm of cutting winds and tearing gales. Diana, meanwhile, gathered her divine energy. She’d seen firsthand that the attacks of the machine, while powerful, weren’t enough to truly injure the beast. It simply regenerated too fast. What she needed was something big… so big it couldn’t just shrug off the blow.

As the winds around her sword intensified, she crafted the image of her attack in her mind. She imagined a hurricane condensed into a single blade as thin as a hair and sharper than anything in Creation. This thing might be regenerating, but how would it handle being cut in half.

With a grunt of exertion, Diana swung her sword. The Sword of Cutting Winds didn’t have as grandiose a name as some of the other weapons she could summon, but it was very, very good at what it did. And what it did was cut things. Combined with the way she’d shaped her divine power, well, she couldn’t let those mortals outdo her, now could she?

“Take this!” she shouted. “You might be tough, but I could cut the moon in half with this attack!”

X     X     X

“Massive energy spike!” Pilot Diana shouted.

“What?” Averia cried. “Where?”

“It’s… oh crap! Move!”

Averia looked up. Whatever the ‘goddess’ version of Diana had done, it had cut the creature in half. Unbelievable. That thing weighed a hundred thousand tonnes, and she’d just cut it in half. It was already trying to heal, but it didn’t look like it could fly and put itself back together at the same time.

“Go!” Marshal Lightning’s voice came over the speaker. “Run due west now! That’s the quickest way out from under it. Move!”

That was all the incentive they needed. The massive Eidolon broke into a sprint, and the trio pushed themselves to the limit as the titanic creature thundered into the ground, an earthquake shaking the whole area as it landed. They just barely managed to get clear, throwing themselves into a dive at the last moment.

“There’s a spot on its back,” Marshal Lightning continued. “Can you see it? I saw it through one of the rear-facing cameras when you dove. There appears to be a distortion there.”

“That’s its centre,” Divine Diana shouted, her voice somehow audible through the communication system. “I’ve seen something similar in the enemies the gods in my world fight. It’s like… think of it as a pocket dimension. Most of its mass is hidden there, which is why it can heal so easily. If we rupture that, it will die… and probably explode.”

“Well, damn,” Pilot Diana said. “Let’s get to work.”

The Eidolon leapt onto the creature’s back, hacking and firing with mad abandon as it tried to reach the creature’s core. At the same time Divine Diana and Gary swooped through the air in a bid to strike at the creature’s core with the same attacks they’d used so effectively before. However, the creature was not about to make it easy. Thousands of tentacles ripped out of its back. They lashed out in a frenzy, knocking the Eidolon back and forcing Divine Diana and Gary to retreat.

“This is stupid.” Final Averia spoke over the communication system. “Can you open the emergency door? I’m going out there to help.”

“What are you going to do?” Pilot Averia shot back. “Transform into a god or something? This isn’t a battle a normal person can fight.”

Final Averia smirked. It was Fang’s smirk. “Or something. Just open the door.”

X     X     X

Final Averia waited until she’d climbed onto the exterior of the giant robot before she activated her Semblance. She skipped straight to the second level of Saviour. Anything less wouldn’t cut. Immediately, information flooded into her mind. Even at this level a version of flight was available, but there was a faster way to reach her target.

[Calculating optimal path… tentacle motion accounted for… optimal path projection…]

Averia leapt, crossing more than a hundred yards in a heartbeat. In a single fluid motion, she summoned a crystal blade, sliced a tentacle in half and then rode the motion it made in its agony to throw herself further forward.

“Damn…” Pilot Diana muttered. “Apparently, you’re a magical girl in another dimension, sis.”

“What?” Pilot Averia squawked. “She is obviously not a magical girl. Magical girls don’t wear armour and swing swords around.”

“She’s totally a magical girl,” Pilot Claire agreed. “But look at her go.”

Slicing through tentacle after tentacle and using their flailing to catapult herself forward, Final Averia was advancing toward the core at incredible speed. Seeing her on the move, both Divine Diana and Gary swooped in to help clear a path.

[Accounting for allies…] Saviour had already begun to develop detailed analyses of the others. [Projected path now 25% shorter]

Final Averia leapt one last time. The core was there ahead of her, a large sphere of distorted flesh that was roughly fifty yards in diameter. Saviour’s senses were screaming at her to be careful.

[Massive dimensional anomaly detected]

[Apparent size and mass inaccurate]

[True mass estimated at ten million tonnes]

[True size estimated as sphere with radius one hundred kilometres]

Averia frowned. Was cutting it even possible. 

[Current power insufficient to breach outer shell.]

[Physical force unlikely to breach outer shell]

[Weapon capable of moderate reality manipulation required]

[Recommend escalating to third level]

Averia grimaced. The third level? She could use it, but she couldn’t afford to rely on it too heavily, not when she didn’t know how many more of these things she would have to face. 

Her crystal and metal armour darkened and then shattered to reveal the ominous red and black tones of the third level of Saviour. Power flooded through her veins, and her perception of the world sharpened even further. With her heightened perception, she could now detect the smallest of flaws along the top of the core.

She gestured, and she soared upward, a series of gravity manipulations pushing and pulling her along until she was over the flaw.

“Cover me!” she shouted.

“Got it!” Divine Diana shouted back as she and Gary flanked Final Averia. Tentacles closed in from all sides, but the pair fought with iron determination to hold them back. As for the Eidolon, the gigantic robot had caught on to what was happening, and the trio piloting were doing their best to keep as many tentacles occupied as possible. 

Final Averia twisted in midair and then dove. Her blade clattered into the edge of the sphere, and she gave a cry of disbelief as the structure actually held for an instant. Unbelievable. This blade could cut through any normal material substance with ease. Even spatial and temporal distortions would be badly damaged by it. Finally, the surface of the core began to crack.

“Need a bit more…” Final Averia’s jaw clenched as she called on more of Saviour’s power. The crack widened, and she was suddenly tumbling backward, hurled away by an outpouring of energy. “The core is breached!” she yelled. “You need to tear it all the way open.”

“Understood!” Pilot Averia barked back. “Move!”

The Eidolon thundered forward, its massive bulk stomping over the creature’s body as it drove its hands into the crack in the core. Countless servos and gears creaked as the titanic machine strained itself to the limits of its ability. Slowly, bit by bit, the crack began to widen as they tore the core open.

“Gary!” Divine Diana shouted. “Come on, let’s help!”

The two added their attacks to the mix, hacking and slashing at the edges of the rip to widen it until, at last, with a sickening squelch, the Eidolon managed to force its arms as far apart as it could. Energy poured out of the gaping hole along with a vile, black deluge.

“Get clear!” Pilot Diana shouted. “I’m getting elevated energy readings! It’s going to explode!”

Divine Diana grabbed Gary and then dove to grab Final Averia. “I’ll get us out of here. Hold on!” She leapt flew onto the Eidolon’s shoulder and called on her power again. “All those times I practices transporting Bahamut are going to come in handy now. He’s even bigger than you guys!”

“Just get us out of here!” Marshal Lightning ordered.

X     X     X

“Well, isn’t that a pretty picture?” Killer Lightning drawled as she watched the massive column of inky darkness roar up toward the sky. The goddess had brought them more than two hundred miles in the blink of an eye, and the explosion still dominated the horizon. She walked over to Final Averia. “And that was a most admirable performance. Your power is… fascinating. Mind explaining it?”

Final Averia forced herself to straighten despite the tiredness she felt. “Not a chance.”

“Oh, how touchy.” Killer Lightning smiled sunnily. “Well, we’re all alive and our enemy is dead, but we still don’t know where we are. Anybody have any ideas?”

Divine Diana pointed. “We head that way. I think I can feel my mother’s power coming from that direction.”

Killer Lightning raised one eyebrow. “How strong is your mother?”

“Hmmm…” Divine Diana rubbed her chin. “Have you ever seen a piñata fight a dragon?”

They all stared at her. They’d seen what she could do.

“I’m the piñata. My mother is the dragon.”

“Well…” Killer Lightning said. “The more the merrier. I don’t plan on dying, so… let’s go meet your mother… who is, I suppose, another version of me.”

“Pretty much.” Divine Diana shrugged. “I could take us there, but that might not be a good idea.”

“What’s going on?” Marshal Lightning asked.

“I don’t know if you guys can sense it, but that thing was drawn to us by the power I was using. Based on how fast that machine of yours can walk, we should reach my mother in a couple of hours. It might be safer to just do that.”

“Right.” Pilot Averia nodded. “Hop aboard then. You should conserve your strength for battle. We can give all of you a lift.”

X     X     X

Final Averia = Final Rose Averia

Pilot Averia, Diana, and Claire = Eidolon Pilot Averia, Diana, and Claire

Marshal Lightning = The Vestige Lightning

Killer Lightning = Sound of Thudner (serial killer) Lightning

Divine Diana = Divine!AU Diana

Gary =  Divine Diana’s Herald (and favourite raccoon since she is, amongst other things, the goddess of raccoons)