#i like drawing shadow like an absolute behemoth

[aphroditusiscorroded]

Day 1: Quiet Moments

I wanted to contribute something to Sonadowtober! Happy spooky season!

[aetherialpiplup108]

How the Alchemy of Souls Season 1 Ending Perfectly Demonstrates Yeong's Guilt, Uk's Persistence, and the Beauty of their Bond

I should hate the ending of Alchemy of Souls season 1. Jin Mu's random contrived bells showing up and being used as a pivotal series-defining plot-point in the same episode drives me just as insane as it did Mu-deok. And it kills me to watch two characters who are defined by their ability to challenge the world and resist fate succumb to its pressures (note: I don't think this is a flaw in the series since it's simply a fraction of the overarching theme the story is trying to convey but boy did it hurt). I should have been so massively disappointed and yet the climax itself runs rent-free in my head a full year after I saw it for the first time.

First of all, we finally get sword-fighting Yeong again and in the absolute worst way possible. It creates this wonderful cognitive dissonance in your head where you're simultaneously crying in angst while cheering on Jung So-min as she puts on the performance we've been longing for the entire show.

Next, there's the behemoth stabbing scene itself. When Mu-deok regains consciousness in Uk's arms, there's a brief look of confusion in her eyes likely due to the gaps in her memory, the heaving of his voice, the desperate way his arms are wrapped around her, or maybe even the blood seeping between them. But the first thing she says even before processing everything is: "Jang Uk? ...Did I do this?"

Despite embracing the ruthless assassin lifestyle (a hard path she undertook due to the love she felt for her family and the immense grief felt in their loss), Yeong does care about other people. We know this through the way she slyly sneaks in affection towards Uk, helps Yul heal and let go of the guilt he's held onto since running into her as children, and offers Go-won an esoteric companionship they both come to value greatly. In season 2, through amnesiac!Yeong, we're given an even clearer glimpse at her intrinsic compassion through the unhidden empathy she shows to practically everyone she meets.

But the real Cho-Yeong spent years of isolation in Danhyanggok's cruel winters training, breathing, and living for revenge. Knowing only how to kill and draw blood, of course Yeong believed she'd end up hurting anyone stupid enough to come too close. It's why her first instinct is to shear off every potential bond she could make: to protect herself from any more loss and to protect others from her. When it became impossible to deny the love she and Uk shared, Yeong chose to wield it callously to avoid getting attached, to remind him and her that she wasn't round-faced Mu-deok who was free to earn and give affection. She was Naksu. Undeserving, dangerous, poisonous Naksu. We see this thought process and self-denial make a reoccurrence in season 2 when Yeong immediately distances herself from Uk the second she gets her memories back, even if it agonizes her, because she can't bear to hurt him again.

Rather than assigning blame to Jin Mu, she takes her sword through Uk's chest as mere confirmation of what she always believed: how could the ruthless shadow assassin that lives off revenge be allowed to love and be loved?

Yeong's guilt is especially ironic when paired with Jang Uk having no doubt in his mind that she's innocent. He gets stabbed and just pulls her close before he's even able to process what's going on because they'd been there before at Jeojingak when he had her hold a sword to his neck.

Jang Uk is the first and only person, really, to hold complete confidence not in Yeong's prowess as a mage but in her character and ability to care. And it means more because as her pupil, he's the person (aside from herself) that Yeong's been the harshest with. She continually put his life in danger whether through poison or overtraining or by inciting death matches, and hurts him again and again with words and actions (gambling the jade egg) meant to prod right at his insecurities. Yeong had thought this would be enough to keep him at bay, to force him into a transactional relationship where she wasn't afraid he'd run away too soon and yet wouldn't let herself build up hope that he'd actually stay when the terms of their initial agreement were met.

Except.

Uk had already seen glimpses of that lonely girl Yeong buried inside and actually tried to understand her, failing at times but doing his best to make sense of the way she thinks without judgement. In the process, he realized just how much Yeong values the people she loves, how much she wants to protect those who've shown her even the ounce of kindness she doesn't think she deserves. That's how he knows, instinctively, that she couldn't have stabbed him. It's how he knows she wouldn't even fight Dang-gu (although, I'm not sure if he was aware that she killed Cho-yeon's father before arriving in the forest). Because how could someone who's so grateful for the love they deem themselves undeserving of cast it aside so easily?

And finally, because somewhere along the way this post devolved from a loosely structured rant over one scene to a frantic gush over these two ridiculously endearing characters, the beauty of the climax is shown in the way Uk just watches helplessly as Yeong struggles and breaks down in a way so uncharacteristic of the stoic, emotion-swallowing woman who could only say "I like you" under copious amounts of alcohol. It's so unbelievably soft (idk, maybe I'm just a lunatic) when he slowly searches for her hand, using the last pieces of his strength and then some to lace their wounded fingers together, somehow managing to use his entire blood-soaked body in the last 2 minutes to show her that she has his entire heart, whether she deserved it or not, and there wasn't anything she could do that would make him leave.

of course, these are just my interpretations of the characters. Maybe I'm completely off or reading way too much into it.

tl;dr: I have a lot of criticism for certain aspects of Alchemy of Souls, but the relationship Jang Uk and Cho Yeong share is so powerful. Though tragic and shockingly reliant on plot-convenience, the finale of season 1 depicts their relationship beautifully by illustrating the depth of their trust and reliance on the other. Also, UkYeong has rooted itself thoroughly in my head. I've never been so invested in a ship, someone send help!!!!!

[bonktime]

Take a Breath

Ezra (Prospect) x AFAB!reader Oneshot (no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Your ship has crashed on a planet with low oxygen. With no other options you begin a tenuous partnership with a strange prospector in need of your help fixing his pod. He’s charming but dangerous and if he finds out the whole truth about you, you’ll probably end up dead. With trouble closing in from all sides, you navigate this new connection and hope you both survive in one piece.

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, blood and death, mentions of religion, sexual harassment (just a couple comments), me having no clue what asphyxiating is actually like, Two has a clear helmet for plot reasons, smut: unprotected PinV sex (there’s no STDs in space), cunnilingus, dom/sub elements, rough sex, size kink, choking (just a little), spitting, praise kink (this one surprised me), biting, a little dirty talk (it is Ezra) - let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Note: I was totally inspired to create this by @jura-moon​ ‘s fic Nostromo which lives in my head and without it, this never would have been written. I have used some of her story beats and ideas so absolute credit goes to her for that. This is sort of a fanfic of Nostromo in many ways 💘 I’d also like to throw thanks at @absurdthirst who reawakened my love of fics, @slater-baby who awoke something in me specifically, and especially to @danniburgh who not only deals with my damn near weekly requests for softness but who also got me to stop editing at 1am whilst drinking tequila. She did us all a favour, let’s be honest.

I hope everyone enjoys this behemoth. Don’t forget to reblog!

Wordcount: 22k

~~~~~~~~

It's not the worst planet to crash on.

The thought is so ridiculous you'd laugh if it wasn't for the blaring alarms and the screaming. Instead, you wrestle into the pilot’s seat and strap in. With the engine dead you'll have to manually time releasing the parachute. It's completely insane. Too early and the parachute burns, you crash into the ground and die. Too late and the parachute doesn't catch you, you crash into the ground and die. Provided you do survive you've at least got your suit on, oxygen tank attached, you'll be able to breath. The planet's oxygen is too low to survive for longer than two hours alone but it'll aid the tank and give you two days, three if you're careful, to get more. At least it isn't poisonous.

Thoughts all over the place you wonder where the other ship will fall. Hopefully close enough you can still make use of it. Hopefully they've got a good pilot.

You've been lucky this far, now all you can do is hope your luck holds. You break atmosphere flames blurring the view of the planet and then it's rushing to meet you. You start counting, watching it come closer, closer. You see the other ship careen away from you.

“Fuck!” Someone behind you shouts “Pull the damn lever are you trying to kill us all?!”

You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok

Three… two… one…

You close your eyes and pull.

You don't open your eyes.

No. For the first time in years. You pray.

⧫⧫⧫

Pain is the first thing you register, across your chest aches like, well, like you've just crashed a ship. The next is the smell, smoke, that can't be good, it's not entirely unpleasant though. Then the noise, someone's shouting in your ear telling you to get up, to move, they swear and leave you dangling upside down, still strapped into the pilots’ seat. Oh, that's why your chest hurts, ok, you think to yourself, you’re alive. You need to move. You need to open your eyes.

You do.

Lights are flashing, disorientating you more than your current position, blood rushing to your head. You reach up and press the release on the seat belt and drop to the floor, or maybe the ceiling, head first. Didn't think that one through you chastise yourself.  The engine is on fire, filling the hull with smoke but your legs are numb so, seizing your pack where it’s fallen beside you, you crawl to the light you think is the door and to your relief, flop outside.

No one notices you. They're all looking away, throwers out and pointed into the dead trees you sit back against the ship still reeling from the crash, too slow to realise how absolutely fucked you are. They come out the trees fast, even with spears and blades, you watch as the crew falls one by one. You can't process what you're seeing, frozen in place. Blood splatters, coming down like rain around you. Too late your body reacts and you stumble to your feet and run.

You get out of sight and then you stop, panting. Every breath aches your chest.

Something's wrong. Something you're not seeing. Right before your eyes. What is it?!

It hits you, slowly like a wave, realisation and then panic. You reach up slowly and touch your head. Gloves come away wet and dark with your blood.

Your helmet is shattered.

You aren't sure if you're crying or blood is dripping into your eyes. You suspect the blood. Feeling numb you keep moving, one foot in front of the other vaguely glancing down at the dial on your arm. After the running you'll be unconscious in at best an hour and a half, dead a little after that.

The petrified forest seems to close in around you. It’s a stillness like you’ve never experienced. Trees tower above you, skeletal branches reaching up like fingers. The limbs cast dark shadows in the bright sun, crossing over the dry brush underfoot, hiding foot falls and branches to trip on.

You walk on.

⧫⧫⧫

15 minutes left.

You decide to find a place to sit, ideally somewhere with a view but you can't me picky. A fallen tree does the job and you pull off the remainder of your helmet. Trying not to think about your imminent demise you look up. The suns are low, three of them. It twinges in your chest that you'll never go home, never see that sky again. Left to rot alone, no one who knows your traditions to perform your rites. Not that you deserve them. If you're going to put the ring back on, now would be the time. Make penance, but you don't think you can. Perhaps the hundred years wait is what you deserve.

7 minutes left.

There's someone approaching. Silhouetted against the scorching red sky, the heat rising from the ground distorting them, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating. The only clue they’re real is the crunch of the ground beneath their feet, but even that seems to echo around you.

Hope is the thing with feathers and it just flaps a wing wearily in your chest. And then stutters. The sun glints off their pistol, a beautiful sparkle that dims your hope. You do what you're good at, grab your own and shoot first. His gun flies from his hand and you smile, at least your aim is true. It falls off your face as quickly as it appears though as you feel a barrel press into your skull.

Clever buggers divided and conquered.

You drop your thrower but whoever it is doesn't lower theirs. “A little creature all alone,” a low voice drawls, “No helmet? No breath? What will we do with you?”

Staring straight at the man in front as he picks up your pistol and glares at you, you respond. “If we are going to chat, can we do it wherever your pod is? I have quite a story but I'll be dead in…” you look down at your dial, the gun increases its pressure on your skull as you try to suppress the panic “In about 5 minutes” the man remains silent, his pistol staying pressed into your skull. Your mind races, trying to find a way to argue your survival and clutches at the one thing you have. “I chose not to kill your friend when I could have done. Can you at least hear me out?”

The man behind you clicks his tongue “Ok! Well, I'm certainly intrigued and I'm sure even my partner here can't disapprove of allowing you to argue your case.” The comment seems pointed like he'll definitely disagree but even as you see his mouth twist he stays silent. “On your feet creature I'm not inclined to lug you back myself.” Standing the man lowers the thrower into your back and gently pushes you forward.

Their pod is close but you're feeling dizzier by the second and don't even think to protest when, as soon as you're in and the doors shut, the man at your back ties your hands behind you.

Focusing on him as he moves in front of you and pulls off his helmet you notice he’s favouring one arm and despite his sharp brown eyes, he looks feverish and drained. Not paying it much thought, you breathe deeply feeling sharper but it only draws your attention back to the pain in your body. Kevva you're tired. The urge to lie down and rest is near overwhelming, but the one who talks is eyeing you coldly for weakness, you’re no use if you can’t even stand.

Still, you try to get your bearings. The pod is small and rectangular, they haven’t turned the lights on and the looming shadows seem to pull in the walls, making your saviours into giants, making you feel like you’re pledging your case to The Olympians. There’s a small bench with a couple chairs next to a tiny stove and sink, there’s only one cot up against the wall, opposite what could be a cupboard but your eyes can’t make it out in the dim light.

“Now then creature, it's not every day we come across such a little thing with no air on this breathless planet and certainly not one who can shoot so damn straight!” The chuckles “I am just fascinated to know how you got into this predicament.”

You nod thinking carefully about your words. “We were a prospecting crew,” that's definitely a lie, “I'm an engineer but I know how to dig.” Well that's true at least, “Our ship fell of orbit but I managed to deploy the chutes in time so we didn't die on impact but…” you close your eyes as the images of the blood flashes before you.

“Let me guess your theatrical entrance gathered a welcoming party?”

“Something like that, I didn't realise my helmet had broken right away, I managed to run… I think everyone else is dead.” In a way you hope they are, else you really are in trouble.

The man is grinning at you, showing his teeth but the calculating gaze doesn’t falter “An engineer I'll be damned! And you can dig too? This is my lucky day. We happen to be in need of an engineer. See, our little pod has seen some better days and now it is unwilling to fly. Say, if you can fix it up and help us dig a smidgen, save us some time, we'll give you a lift out when the time comes? Quid pro quo”

An unwanted thought strikes you, settling deep in your stomach like a stone. “That sounds like a great deal but I won't be able to help you, not unless you supply me with a helmet.”

With that the other man seems to reach the end of his patience. And he moves gesturing at the talker.

“Now then, it just doesn't seem right to let such a pretty little thing suffocate on this rock... Well, I can't argue with that I suppose… I do apologise, little creature, I find myself, however unwittingly, agreeing with my partner. If you can’t help us then I can find no reasonable excuse to waste our resources on you. Looks like the deals off” he sighs “This is disappointing, I had such high hopes for our association.” With a shrug he pats your shoulder in sympathy that doesn’t meet his eyes. You shouldn't have hoped, your lucks all spent.

You take a deep breath, mind racing to find a way to survive, “Untie my hands at least, I'd appreciate some dignity as I walk to meet my maker.” You glance at your pack on the floor, you won’t need it now.

He pauses for a second, seeming to size you up before nodding and turning you around to face the door. In the reflection of the glass, you see the profile of his sharp features as he looks back, “Now then two, surely you can do the creature the quick the justice of a shot rather than a slow suffocation… Right good.” He cuts your hands loose and instantly the other man is there pressing his thrower into your back. You walk together, back into the waste.

There's only one way you're getting out of this so you close your eyes for a second and pause. He shoves you, lifting his gun to the back of your head. You take a breath and act.

Bending forwards and shoving your elbow up into his arm so the shot goes over your head, you spin knocking the gun aside and grab the small switchblade concealed in your pocket. He should have searched you. You don't hesitate as you stab him in the heart, following him to the ground and wrenching his helmet off. You close your eyes as the light leaves his.

Shaking off the nausea clamouring at you, you pull out the blade blanching as it sprays blood across you. You wipe it clean before stowing it away and then swipe a hand across your face, there’s no way to tell whether the deep red that rubs off on your hand is his or yours, or someone else’s. Feelin around in your pockets for a coin, you suppose the least you can do is pay his boatman so you place the coin under his tongue. You don’t pray. The dead don’t need it.

Ezra watches as you perform this strange ritual, he had to admit that he's captivated. Perhaps his wound has rotted so much he's delirious, finally driven mad by the toxins. Perhaps that was why he agreed to free your hands, why he didn’t check you for a blade. He considers you as he watches, so determined to stay alive.

You pull off the man's suit grateful he's small, even if it'll still swamp you, and grab his helmet. Stripping your own suit quickly you ignore the bandages on your forearm and pull his on. The fit isn't bad, it still seals around your wrists and ankles but it’s loose at your neck. You've got 12 minutes before you pass out unless you fix the hole your own knife made and get a tank of oxygen.

You look at the pod, the other man is watching you. Brown eyes piercing yours as if looking into your soul. It's him or nothing. You've got to try.

You approach the pod carrying your suit. Looking through the glass in the door and you gesture a setting for your radio, there’s a click followed by his harsh breathing.

“That was not especially kind, little creature. I certainly underestimated your ferociousness”

You shrug, “It was him or me.”

“What makes your existence so exponentially more important than his d’you think?”

You frown, “I didn't decide that it did, the powers that be choose. I did bring a knife to a gunfight” He smiles slightly and lets out a little chuckle.

Ezra watches you carefully, you look so tired, so small as you lean against the door of the pod his feverish brain seems to be attempting to soften a long-hardened heart. Still, he's not an idiot. “I'm afraid letting you in may be a detriment to my state of being, creature, you are indeed viscous and I'm not inclined to trust someone that murdered my acquaintance with so little hesitation.” He watches your eyes closed and for a second you look so hopeless but when they open, they've hardened.

“I could simply pull apart your pod from the outside, make sure you suffocate with me!” The last words come out in a shout of frustration. You bang your hand against the glass window of the door.

He glares at you, his voice low and menacing “I do not take lightly to threats, creature.”

This day’s too long, too hard, you've done too much. How many deaths? You realise that you can't kill someone for, sensibly, not letting you in. You laugh “I feel like the wolf at your door,” you sigh god your head hurts “There's no point!” you gesture, “Killing you would do nothing but damn me further I won't kill you out of spite. Fuck!” You glance and the dial on your arm,

6 minutes.

You turn away and sit, suit back against the door. It's as nice a spot as any. “I will choose to die here though I think, just as a reminder that you killed me when I fall through the next time you head out”

You chuckle at the macabre thought then turn off your radio and pull off the helmet.

3 minutes.

The final sun is setting, this really is Apollo's world and it is beautiful. The orange sky outlines the forest’s hands like an oil painting waving you off. Not a bad place to go at all.

2 minutes.

At least it's quiet.

1 minute.

Black spots are filling your vision, blurring out the beauty. Rude you think to yourself and you let out a delirious giggle.

The door behind you slides open and a strong hand grabs the back of the suite as you flop back, hauling you in, snagging the helmet and sealing the door. You don’t move, staring at the ceiling for a second breathing deeply.

Ezra drops heavily down onto the cot and watches you, you're quite something up close even covered in another's blood and your own, you're beautiful. He imagines this is what a witch would look like after a ritual, all blood and magic and secrets.

You open your eyes and peer up at him. “What changed your mind?”

He grins “Call it a reckless curiosity fuelled by this festering limb of mine.” He gestures to his arm.

It’s your turn to size him up, he seems to be looking worse by the minute and now slumped against the wall, you could probably just kill him and take what you need. Maybe you would if he hadn’t let you in. “Perhaps I can patch it up, I've got steady hands and too much experience with wounds from weapons” you struggle into a seated position with a grunt as pain flashes.

“You might as well have a gander, I'm afraid if left to my own devices I'll have to saw the thing off myself or else perish” He frowns down at his twitching fingers, “I do believe this may be my lowest point, little creature. I invite in trouble and then ask it for help? I have certainly had preferable days, for instance, when the ship I was presiding upon became infested with channel rats seems superior to today.”

You hum in reply not really paying attention as he continues to talk. Reaching for your pack, you pull out a pretty well stocked surgery kit.  “I'll numb it as best I can but it's not much”

“Anything that alleviates this agony will be a blessing little creature” You raise an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, clearly doubting it as you hand him a tablet which he swallows. He pulls off his shirt and you examine the wound trying not to stare at his strong arms and broad chest. It’s a couple days old and badly infected, you’ll have to get out the rot before you can think of sealing it.

“Lie back” you tell him

“Perhaps in another situation your choice of language would be quite desirable” he smirks at you, not succeeding in disguising the worry in his face.

You sigh at the comment “Scream all you need but don't move”

That makes him chuckle, “You're a siren luring me in to slay me, aren't you?” His jaw clenches as you start cutting away the rotted flesh. It is slow work, carefully taking as little pink away as possible. To his credit he doesn't move a muscle and you know it must be agony. He talks the entire time, telling the tale of how he got himself shot in such a long-winded way you can’t tell the truth from the fiction. It seems to give him distraction though, so you don’t ask if he’s lying. As you close the wound with foam, he smiles at you, softer than before.

“Names Ezra, by the way.” Then he passes out.

He’s rather strange you decide, but most prospectors are. You’ve got to be a bit odd to spend your days nearly isolated on hostile planets. Asleep he looks peaceful, none of the calculating gaze or darkness. That little patch of blonde is so distinctive, you find yourself almost hypnotised by his face. Frowning at yourself you move away and sit back against the other side of the pod facing the cot.

A few things left to do with him unconscious, you pull off the stolen suit and grab the patch gun from your pack, melting it closed. You pull it back on and holster your pistol. Sitting back, you take a pill from your med kit to ease the pain in your chest and let it pull you into sleep.

Unsurprisingly, you wake before him. You check he's alive then pack your stuff together. You're even, you suppose. He saved your life. You saved his (or at least his arm) and you'd rather not stay around to find out if, when less fevered, he decides to get more even with you for killing his partner. He did give you his name though and names are powerful things so you pull out your notebook and leave a note as you grab an oxygen tank.

You glance behind you as the door seals behind you but you don’t turn back. If you head towards the ship your crew had brought down yesterday, it should have an escape pod still on it. Hopefully you can fix it up if needs be. You follow your compass East.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra wakes slowly, he hasn't slept so deeply in years, he feels comfortable if a little cold and slowly he opens his eyes. The previous day returns to him in a haze, a pretty face and bright eyes glaring through the door, a gesture to old gods, his arm…

He looks down and moves his fingers. It's good, remarkably so, still stiff and aching but whatever you’d given him seems to have hurried his healing. That stuffs expensive. Not the sort of thing a prospector would usually have and certainly not something they'd share. You were quite strange, he concludes, but fascinating. Why on earth would someone who could act so brutally for their own survival give him something so valuable? Sure, he let you in but you certainly hadn't needed to let him know you had such a thing in your possession. He supposed guilt over his partner, perhaps you were truly naïve or, bizarrely, you could have money. Which would create a more baffling question of just how you ended up here.

It doesn't occur to Ezra for a moment the other reason, until he looks around the pod to find you gone along with a portable oxygen canister leaving a bit of paper in its place. Things stolen hold less value.

The paper was clearly torn from a notebook on it, it simply said your name.

He curses pulling on his suit and following your tracks into the forest. The trail is light but visible, branches broken where you’d passed, dry brush crushed under your feet. He moves quickly, sure of his footing after spending so much time navigating the dead forest. He’s only travelled about a mile before he can hear you moving ahead.

⧫⧫⧫

You walk through the trees, one sun shining above you warming your bones. As you check your direction you pause. A twig snaps and you freeze listening carefully. There's another noise behind you and you spin tensing. You can't see anything or anyone as you peer around you, the forest is too dense.

A body crashes into you from behind flinging you into the ground, looping something around your neck. Your head ricochets off the inside of your helmet shaking your brain, opening the cut again but not breaking the glass. You try to lurch up but get nowhere so you roll into your back with them now beneath you but the cord around your neck holds you back. Choking, you catch your fingers in it so you can breathe and pull forwards, hard, rolling again and thrusting your helmet back into theirs, loosening their grip enough so you can pull the cord away, only for them to shove you head down into the ground.

The world is swimming now, wobbling around you as you try to get your body to listen to you. To get away. To fight back. Anything! But their weight on your back prevents you from moving. You try to look out of the corner of your eye to see your opponent but get nothing. It surprises you when a tear tracks down your face. You suppose you have been putting off the inevitable for days now, Kevva has called you back.

Whoever it is clicks on your radio and a familiar voice hisses, “You stupid fucking cunt, I'm bringing you to hell with-“ A shot rings out and the body slumps on top of you, you lift yourself up and shove it off sitting up on your haunches looking around for the shooter.

It's him, Ezra, gun still trained on you. He watches you halt, eyes wide.

“You took something of mine, and although usually I don't go out of my way to find trouble, which you little creature certainly are. I awoke to find myself abandoned and a little peeved to discover that you had liberated a couple of my possessions and shimmied out of part of our prior agreement.”

Your heads still spinning and with the blood trickling into your eye you find it immensely difficult to focus on what he is saying. “Prior agreement?”

“Yes indeed. You'll find you had affirmed in exchange for breath you would fix up my little ship so when the time comes, I may leave this barely liveable planet. I do not appreciate reneging”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“On your feet creature,” he approaches, “I find myself growing impatient.” You stand and instantly stumble forward. He grabs onto your shoulder steadying you, his other hand darting out before you can relax and snagging your thrower from its holster. “I underestimated you once, I will not again. Now, your assailant seemed to know you, if I'm not mistaken, by the way they deemed to remark upon you. Pray tell me the tale?”

Looking at him you do feel a lot like prey. He's close, grip still firm on your shoulder and towering over you. A grin showing all his teeth like a wolf, all you would need is a red cloak and you’re dinner.

You glance down at the body and clench your jaw, it was Cora. Formally, a member of your crew, she had always distrusted you. Rightfully so, you think to yourself.

Steadying yourself you shrug off Ezra's grip, ignoring the gun still aimed at you and kneel down to pull off her helmet. Taking a coin from your pocket you place it under her tongue and look back up at him, the helmet still in your grasp. He's watching you curiously, seeming to be rolling words around in his mouth as if completely thrown by your behaviour.

“She was part of my crew, I was the engineer so the crash was my fault,” well that was definitely true.

Ezra chuckles darkly, “I'm not too sure I want you to repair my ship after all, creature. Your predilection for incident does appear wearisome.”

You tilt your head up at him, “See any other engineers around here?”

“I suppose you'll have to do, but I will be watching you mighty closely little bird, in case you decide to take flight again.” You frown at the new nickname but don't get a chance to argue as you both hear a horn a little way off. “Unfortunately, my shot appears to have alerted the ever-irritable locals to our location.” He grabs your arms and hauls you back to your feet pulling you along with him as he walks back the way you had come, Cora’s helmet still clasped in your hand. “Luckily the settlers are not quick on their feet, I must say.”

You can't think of a response, your head is still reeling and your feet feel like lead as you trudge after him, his hand gripping firmly onto your wrist.

You're grateful you hadn't travelled far when he tugs you into the pod. Closing the door and turning, Ezra finds you slumping down to sit on the floor ripping off your helmet and attempting to wipe the blood out of your eye. It feels a little voyeuristic as he watches you tug off the suit soaked with his partner's blood, revealing the black insulating vest and leggings beneath before flopping back eyes closed for a moment. You feel his stare and pointedly ignore it as you grab your own suit, abandoned the day before, and shimmy into it. Cora had the same suit and so her helmet will fit yours. You feel a little relief at no longer having to wear the blood of someone you'd killed, not to mention more secure in something that fits.

Glancing up at Ezra as you transfer your possessions between pockets yet again you see he's elected to tie his suit up around his waist revealing those damn arms again. He crouches down in front of you and gently grasps your chin to tilt your head up at him. “That's quite the cut you've got there little bird.”

He carefully watches your face but your head is still fuzzy so with no retort he moves away from you and picks up your med kit. He cleans your wound gently, wiping the dried blood off your face. As he does, you study him. Close up you can see the wrinkles around his eyes from when he smiles and the curved scar on his cheek. Fighting off the impulse to trace your fingers over it, you ask how he got it. He grins as he places a plaster on your head “Now that’s quite a story” but you don’t get to hear it yet, sounds outside means the settlers have found the pod.

“They'll leave provided they don't know we're here” He grumbles, tugging you into the cupboard running along the wall.

It’s slim but long inside, there are blankets on the floor, a lantern and a small stack of tattered books. “Do you sleep in a cupboard?” you have to ask but you do your best to keep the incredulity out of your tone.

“I'd rather you didn't insult my little burrow as a guest, there's only one cot in this pod and I lost the wager so I made do. I think you’ll find it’s rather cosy”

You nod, a little thrown by his change in attitude since being in the forest. As you both sit you watch his face in the golden light of the lamp. It makes him appear to glow, almost like a painting. He'd look almost relaxed if it wasn't for how his eyes were watching you carefully.

Ezra studies your features, if you hadn't been such a bringer of chaos, he'd think he'd made you up, that, or Kevva had reached into his head and plucked you out. You're just perfect, perhaps anything his own mind could come up with would have to come with chaos, there was no fun without it.

The quiet moment is disrupted by a bang on the side of the pod, you jump and Ezra tenses slightly but seems to be expecting it. “They're trying to frighten out anyone inside” he whispers, “If we stay quiet and hidden, we'll be just fine”

You nod and tilt your head back against the wall trying to block out the noise as Ezra reaches for the book at the top of his stack. You read the title ‘Perfume’, you haven't heard of it but judging by the battered pages and writing in the margins Ezra knows it intimately. He glances at you. “It is a tale of a man who gets so enraptured with the scent of a woman he endeavours to turn her essence into perfume.”

You hum in response “That sounds a little morbid.”

Reaching into your bag you pull out a similarly dog-eared copy of ‘The Power’ and do your best to ignore the man opposite you.

Ezra frowns at his book. It's not often a good read fails to pull him into its world but something about your presence has driven him to distraction. Instead, he closes the book and continues to study you, it's a nice change having a stranger in such close quarters. You're frowning at your book a little furrow in your brow he finds endearing. It's only then he notices you're shaking. He wonders if it's from the death of your friend, from the settlers’ insistent pounding on the side of the pod or from him. He supposes it's quite scary to be trapped in a small space with someone twice your size and he hasn't exactly been kind to you. Ezra frowns to himself, not that you've given him a reason to act kindly. You will be useful to each other but there's no point making friends on such rough terms.

You look up meeting his eye as he glowers at you and swiftly glance away, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“You said you came to prospect?” he murmurs to you. You look back at him, wide eyed, and nod. “Good, you can help me finish me dig, 60/40 split, since you so callously divested me of my partner.”

You nod “You ridded me of mine too. Looks like we're even again. Equal split.” He’s tempted to laugh at your boldness, negotiating with no leverage. He keeps his face stern, unwilling to let you know how much he is enjoying your spark.

“I don't think so.” he speaks lowly making you tense, “I will permit that without you my arm would be about as useful as stim gum is at staving off hunger. And at least to me my arm is equal to a partner.” He tilts his head at you, the light cutting plains across his skin, “Even so… we still aren't even. That’s twice I saved your troublesome arse. One could suggest you’re indebted to me.”

To his surprise you nod, even as your jaw clenches and he watches you swallow “I guess I'll have to make it up to you another way. Even split or I don’t dig” That breaks him, he can’t hold in his grin at your fearlessness. He strongly suspects you’ve had an abundance of practice getting what you're owed from characters more unscrupulous than himself. He frowns at that, even hardened prospectors treat him warily, there must be something else to you. He agrees though, more out of curiosity than necessity.

“Even split it is then.”

⧫⧫⧫

You both agree there's no point going out to dig with the settlers so close but after the noise has subsided Ezra looks you over and suggests you shower. You don't tell him what a gift that is but he sees how your eyes light up at the prospect of washing off the past days’ grime. He hands you a towel and as the water starts running, he distracts himself from picturing you naked by satisfying some of his inquisitiveness and going through your pack.

There's not much of interest. Your med kit, some protein bars, instant caf, ammunition but in the front pocket he finds an old ring. Round like a signet but instead of a family emblem it is simply a small coin, plated in gold. He studies it, it's roughly hewn, well-made but not particularly fine. He wonders if you stole this too, but it isn't flashy and everything else you've taken had been useful so he posits it is yours, but why don't you wear it? Frowning he puts it back as he spots a notebook, worn and well-loved but as he reaches for it the water shuts off and he leaves your pack, choosing to get nourishment for you both before you sleep.

You emerge dressed just in your leggings and vest, Ezra gestures to the seat noticing the bandage on your arm. “What did you do that your mystical little tablets cannot heal?”

You finger the material absentmindedly, “Oh it's an old wound I keep reopening, better to keep it covered to prevent infection.”

He peers at you clearly unconvinced but he doesn’t question you further, you avoid his eyes looking at the floor as he sticks some food in front of you. “Eat up little creature, we've hard work to do tomorrow and we'll need our energy.”

You take a mouthful before asking, “Where will we sleep?”

“Better we stay out of sight in case our hospitable friends return, so back into the burrow. And I'd rather keep you close in case you start to feel flighty again” You sigh but to his surprise don't argue, perhaps the settlers really did shake you.

Ezra returns to studying you as you both eat, without your suit on he can see the harsh bruises around your neck where your former friend had tried to strangle you but the gash through your eyebrow has stopped bleeding and fresh from the shower, you're quite the vision. It has been so long since he'd had another body to warm his bed and you look so soft and vulnerable without the suit and imminent danger, he finds himself picturing you under him, writhing, brow furrowed like before. His hands grabbing your arms, your hips, your neck- He shakes himself of the image. Your partnership is tenuous at best without bringing in the pleasures of the flesh and he doesn't really want to scare you off potentially leaving him alone and trapped on this world.

When you've eaten you head into Ezra's ‘burrow’ as he called it and settle opposite each other, legs stretched out in front, feet almost touching. Ezra is next to the door ensuring you can't leave without waking him but you're not inclined to try, you know your luck is running out. You're grateful he doesn't try to scare you into staying, instead curiously he picks up his book and looks at you. 

“I propose an exchange, it appears we are both almost prepared to recite our beloved tomes cover to cover, so, would you acquiesce your book for mine?”

You shrug, “I wouldn't mind something new but I'm not sure how much you'd enjoy ‘The Power’ and I have nothing else.”

He smiles his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Well then, read me the blurb and let me decide for myself. It seems only I would know what I may delight in.”

“It's about how women become the dominant gender in the world, told by a man in the future where a male dominated society seems absurd.”

Ezra grins, “I am intrigued! It'll be a joy to discuss books with another person, a pleasure I can rarely partake in”

You smile back as you swap books. A tentative exchange that leaves you both a little hopeful for the progress of your partnership.

You both read in silence until you yawn twice in a row causing Ezra to yawn too and he suggests you turn in. Or you guess he does, his choice of language seems to baffle you here and there. He wrangles a blanket out from under you and you settle in, top to tail, his feet level with your chest and yours to below his hip. You didn't realise how the adrenaline of the day had worn you out and you're asleep in seconds. 

You awake on your front, head nestled into your arm. It's pitch black and there's a weight on your ankle. Trying not to panic you wait for your eyes to adjust and peer over your shoulder to see what's grabbed you. It's Ezra.

Asleep on his back one hand on his stomach where the blankets had been shoved down and his under shirt had risen revealing a strip of tan skin glowing in the low light. You try not to focus on that. His other hand, by his side wrapping nearly all the way around your ankle. You wonder if he grabbed you awake to stop you trying to escape or if unconscious, he simply wanted to keep your warm body close, that idea makes you feel a little soft, this is easily the gentlest he's touched you apart from patching your head. You debate if you should shake him off but you don't want to wake him and his warm hand is anchoring so you just put your head back down on your arms and go back to sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra had his sleeping pattern nailed down, a necessary thing for a prospector, usually out cold for 7 hours so he's surprised when he startles awake. He doesn't usually dream. He grasps at the threads of images his mind had conjured committing them to memory. It was about you and it was enough to make him flush and now as he rouses himself, he gently detaches his hand from your ankle unsure about when he grabbed it. It's still early, he looks over you asleep on your stomach breathing slowly. He sighs adjusting himself in his pants if he can't get these images of his head, he's going to have an even more difficult time working with you than he already will. Desire is fickle like that he supposes, giving him a beautiful creature, he can't trust. One who is clearly concealing something and who certainly doesn't desire him in return. A beep tells him the suns are rising and you begin to stir

“Arise little bird, a day off struggle and fortune lays in wait.”

You grumble in return shuffling onto your back and sitting. Ezra tries not to stare as the blanket slips away revealing your body. To avoid further thoughts, he leaves his burrow taking his suit, subtly clutching it to his front so as not to alert you to his predicament, and heads for the shower to sort himself out, eternally grateful that the pod had connected to an underground lake making the water supply essentially infinite. Hopefully a brisk wash will clear his head and body of the lust.

You flop back and sigh. That damn blonde tuft and those sharp features were following you even into sleep. It had been far too long since you'd enjoyed another person and if it wasn't for the dilemma you were in, Ezra would be an easy yes. Broad and handsome and charming in a way that just spelled trouble, but your uneasy alliance, and your lies, and the fact that he could easily kill you make you especially wary of being vulnerable in the way you truly crave. Instead, you shake yourself, grab your pack, dig around for that terrible instant caf and leave the cupboard.

Ezra's shower was doing nothing for his erection. Feeling a little exasperated he grasps it harshly and tries not to picture you so vivid in his dream moaning around him. The water raining down on him acts as a lubricant as he harshly begins pumping his hand not wanting to take his time and fall into a fantasy of you. It doesn't work, he imagines how soft your hands would be, how wet you'd be, how he'd take you here up against the tiles. It's quick and dirty. He grunts, swears, then cums, the water washing the sin away leaving him panting and if anything, more frustrated than before.

You hear Ezra swear in the shower and wonder vaguely if he dropped something as you grab two mugs and start heating water for caf. The shower shuts off and you look round as he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes are dark and he looks furious so you turn away and try not to think about how the water droplets on his broad shoulders shimmer as he disappears back into the cupboard.

Seeing you there, making you both caf, dressed in your underclothes sparked a craving of domesticity within Ezra. For the briefest moment you weren't a reluctant partner on a hostile planet, instead you were a lover he could wrap his arms around from behind as you giggle and try to get breakfast and it aches.

When Ezra re-emerges, dressed with his hair sticking in all directions, you've put his caf on the small bench and are sitting waiting for him. He sits too and picks it up.

“There's only a couple months left in the dig” he says, “You up to it? I will be displeased if you slow us down”

You glare, so this is what he's worried about, “Don't worry I've had plenty of practice. If anything, I'd worry about your arm!”

He grins at you “No need to fret little creature, I managed to do my job with a hole in it and with your miraculous medication, it is only a little unyielding.” He carefully looks over your face, “Speaking of, I would appreciate you being candid in not only the precise location you acquired such a potion but why in Kevva you deigned see fit to give it to me?”

He watches you chew on your words, “I relieved them from a man who sought to take from me, and I gave them to you to even my debt. You saved my life if I didn't give you one, I wouldn't have been able to save your arm.”

What a strange little thing, he thinks, so worried about balance, “Did you happen to also relieve this man of his life?” You stare into your cup and don't answer “Well if he sought to take from you, I'll assume it was just.”

You sit in silence as Ezra smoothly changes the subject and grabs a bar for you, spinning quite the tale as you eat. Not stopping for breath as you pull on your suits, boots and helmets, only pointing you towards the equipment you need to grab before opening the door and leading you back into waste.

Ezra hadn't given you back your thrower which you supposed was fair although he had left you your blade which you're sure he remembered you carried. Perhaps a little act of faith to gain your trust? It didn't hurt. 

As you approach the site Ezra looks back at you, “Stay close little creature we wouldn't want you to get lost.” His voice is low and threatening and sends a shiver down your spine that isn't entirely fear. You nod slowly and he grins, wolf-like just as before, as if outside you the pod he is an entirely different beast to reckon with. 

“I'll get in the pit and do the heavy lifting, you can treat and polish on the surface, we'll go for as long as we've got light and head back. It's gonna be a long day little bird”

The dig comes as a relief, the repetitive labour clears your head and Ezra seems to be filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes, although, you don't think you're actually learning much about him. The way he talks is open yet totally guarded, as if he has the compulsion to speak but the sense not to trust you. You aren't offended, it's not like you're exactly opening up to him either. The day passes quickly like this and as the sun dips too low to see well Ezra hauls himself out of the pit, tells you to pack up and you both head back to the pod to eat and sleep. You wake with his hand around your ankle again.

⧫⧫⧫

A couple of days in, the suns seem to be burning even hotter than before. The dig is gruelling and you’re grateful Ezra so far, hadn’t let you into the pit. You aren’t sure you could bear it in this heat. By the time you finish and return to the pod, taking off your helmet is a relief. You feel hot and sticky and bone tired so you plop yourself down into the cot in the main room still in your suit. Ezra chuckles, “You must be out of practice, else you'd still find these long days easy.”

Ah, so he is bringing it up. You raise your head to look at him, “I still kept up with you, didn't I?”

“True, true, although I am not functioning at full capacity at the present time.” He gestures to his arm.

You flop back and gaze at the ceiling, “Or I just survived a crash from space a few days ago and I'm still a bit worn out.”

That makes him laugh. It's a big warm noise, that makes you giggle too at the absurdity of it all. 

“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”

“Why? You afraid I'm going to make another break for it?”

His grin is just a little softer now, “A little. But if I were you, I'd be more concerned about the neighbours might pop by.”

“Shit, alright” you sit up and instantly yawn.

“Let's get some food in you and turn in, little bird. If I'm not careful I'll have to carry you into my burrow.”

Smiling back, you mock him a little, “With your arm? I'm not sure you'd be capable.”

At that he grins and you realise you've given him a challenge he won't back down from. Stalking up to you like a cat he seizes you under the arms and hauls you against his chest making you huff and giggle as you try to wriggle free. He carries you across the pod like you weigh nothing and plonks you down on the little work bench. Hovering too close for just a moment too long, his breath ghosting your cheek.

“Now how about you keep your smart comments to yourself, lest I have to keep proving you wrong?” he smiles at you, letting you see the crow’s feet by his eyes. 

“I'll admit defeat this time I suppose, but you really should go easy on that arm!”

Ezra turns away from you, his heart pounding a little and reluctant to leave your embrace. Instead, he ignores the feeling urging him to clasp you close and grabs your food. As you slide off the bench and into a seat, he hands you a bowl. Neither of you attempt to meet the other's eye and both of you fail to see the flushed face of your companion.

Once again sleep comes easy, the hard work making your body crave rest to heal but even so in the dark you wake. There's no rush of panic this time instead you feel warm and sleepy as you glance at Ezra at the other end of the cupboard. He's not grasping your ankle instead his side is pressed against yours, leg to leg. It's cosy and in your half-awake state you don't think about how you had gone to sleep separated, and who had sought out whom in the black.

The next day goes much the same, you bicker before you head out deciding who should be in the pit and who shouldn't. Ezra concedes that he'll do the treating of the gems today if you keep alternating so neither of you gets too worn out. You agree though you point out yet again that he needs to go easy on his arm and he points out your bruises and gash on the head as hypocrisy. It's an argument with no malice and it feels refreshing to have a go at someone without worrying they'll get angry and shoot you. Although perhaps you should be more concerned by how at ease you are. If he was to see the scar on your arm, you doubt he'd be so understanding. 

As the day ends Ezra offers you his hand to pull you out of the pit, his touch lingering in yours for just a second too long.

⧫⧫⧫

Working like this you form a sort of routine. Up early, dig till you can't see, talk, eat, sleep, press together in the night. Ezra is starting to reveal little details about himself, where he was born, how he got into prospecting, his favourite books. In a way it makes you feel guilty for staying guarded, only relinquishing the barest details about yourself, but if he notices he doesn't point it out. 

A month passes like this and as you watch Ezra hop into the pit you wonder vaguely if he'll ever run out of things to talk about. He describes an incident where an amateur prospector managed to get his arm stuck in the pit resulting in its brutal amputation but your attention fails as you wait for the next potential gem and you look into the trees behind you. 

An uneasy feeling claws at you so trusting your gut you tell Ezra to shut up and get down out of sight just as someone emerges. No one you recognise, thank Kevva, and not a settler either. They are carrying a rifle though. Bowing your head to your work so they can't see your mouth move, you quickly describe what's happening.

“I can only see one, he's armed. A prospector. You stay quiet unless I shout.”

“Right then birdie. I await your call.”

You look up at the man staying on your knees and gesture your radio setting.

“What's someone like you doing out here all alone?” You repress a shudder at his tone.

“Same as you, I expect, making my way in the universe.” He comes closer and you fight the urge to back away but you don't want to draw attention to Ezra. “I don't have much to offer you and I don't take kindly to thieves.”

“Big talk from someone unarmed.” Wishing Ezra had given back your thrower, you stand and decide an attempt to bargain will be the best option.

“What do you want then, we can trade.”

“I'm not looking to trade anymore, I'm stuck here. My team's dead.” He levels his gun at you. “If you take me to your ship, I'll let you live for a price. Protest too much and I'll shoot and have my way while you bleed out.”

You gulp and stand starting to back away. Even with the element of surprise Ezra will have to act quick and be lucky if you both want to live. Why would he though, he doesn't have much motivation to risk his life for yours, he'll just have to hitch another ride. The man keeps moving towards you as you reach the edge of the pit, eyes not leaving your face and presses the gun to your chest. You glance down for a moment, hoping he doesn't look too, and see wide brown eyes and a miniscule nod. 

At the same moment Ezra reaches up, you drop back into the pit and land heavily on your back, winded. He slices across your assailants achilles tendon and grabs onto his leg pulling him in after you. Frozen in place, you watch the tussle, for the first time properly witnessing how formidable of a foe Ezra can be. His size and strength easily overpower the other man as he rolls on top, throwing down heavy blows that fill the air with the soft thuds of impact, like a heartbeat. A yell is cut off with a gurgle as Ezra shoves his blade into the man’s neck repeatedly, using his weight to hold the man down until he stills.

There's a moment before he turns, he lowers his head trying hard to calm his harsh breathing and sighs. “I do apologise little bird,” he turns to you scowl in place, eyes dark. “For my brutality, I'd rather you didn't have to bear witness.”

His voice is low and he's watching you carefully as you sit up. You feel lost for words at how far he'd gone to defend you, you wonder how close he got to becoming the man dead in front of you. Alone and cruel. All you can do is nod in response.

Ezra curses himself at how quiet you've become. Moving the body out of the pit had taken time and once done, as he watched you place a coin in his mouth, he'd announced that to continue the dig today would be futile with adrenaline running so high and at your nod you had gathered the equipment and headed back to the pod. He watches you carefully as you pull off your suit and decides that the fact you didn't just sprint for the trees after what he did was a good sign. But you continue to surprise him.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “For not letting him…”

“Nonsense, without the pleasure of your company I don't doubt my humanity would soon become as weathered as his own.” He frowns, “It was rather like being visited by the ghost of Christmas yet to come.” You tilt your head not really sure what that means but he shrugs. “Don't fret about it.”

Then there's silence as you watch each other. Lost in thought as you make your meal and eat.

Ezra ponders on the panic he felt deep in his chest at the waver in your voice. He wonders when saving you switched from utilitarian need to something more. He knows how stupid it is to get attached, how reckless. But your bright eyes and determination to stay alive were admirable and captivating and he craves to know more, what makes you laugh, how well you'd take him. He sighs and attempts to brush the lust aside. Even if you weren't terrified of him, he just knew you were concealing something.

The silence stretches out, both unwilling to break it, as you head into the burrow. For the first time, you sleep next to each other. 

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra is wrapped around you when you wake, safe and warm and comforting. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, its steady rhythm relaxing you before your brain starts whirring. Then you feel guilty, like you're taking advantage of him. He doesn't realise how much you enjoy him holding you close and you certainly don't deserve it. The weight of your lies heavy on your shoulders you ease out of his arms, careful not to wake him, and leave the sanctuary of the burrow. 

A wonderful dream slips away from him as he stirs. His little bird's weight in his arms, grounding him, giving him something to protect. Looking round for you and finding you gone, he swears and stumbles to his feet. Kevva, he hoped you hadn't left him alone.

He almost sighs with relief when he leaves his burrow just to spot you sitting by the window watching the suns rise, notebook in hand and mug beside you. You look up, a little wary of his wide eyes but shrug. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither little creature, my dreams are haunted.” He picks up your mug and takes a sip, with a grimace he says “Can you truly enjoy something so acrimonious?”

You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”

“Well, it's certainly rousing” he smiles at you “What are you scribbling there?”

“I had a look round the ship, it's all the repairs I need to do.” You hesitate, “If we swing by the other crashed ship for a couple parts, we can be gone in two days.”

Ezra's eyes darken just a little, his voice low, “You wouldn't be trying to wiggle out of our agreement now? The dig isn't done and I demand satisfaction.”

He watches your mouth twist, “It's just I think our luck's run, the longer we stay the more trouble we're going to get like yesterday.”

“That cannot be helped, little creature. I'd like to live well for a while, and so, the dig must be completed.” You think to that other ship, there's immeasurable wealth on it but you can't tell him. Then he'd know what you were. So instead, you nod and start preparing for the day.

The change in your attitude has Ezra feeling nervous. He realises if he doesn't show a little faith, you won't feel safe and he'll lose you, and possibly himself. Just before opening the door to the waste, he turns to you, “Here.”

He's holding your pistol out to you, frowning slightly, you peer up at him “What?”

“If something like yesterday happens again I'd rather you be able to look after yourself,” you nod and reach for it but he keeps it in his grip for a moment, “Don't get any ideas” his voice is low and dangerous eyes hard on you. You swallow and nod shoving it into your holster.

To your relief the dig is quiet and Ezra has returned to chatting away to you from his perch outside the pit and eventually you're able to chat back making him laugh as the day passes.

There's a change between you, him trusting you to be armed has given you a chance to breathe, but, with that a new tension has come between you. One you're trying very hard to ignore. It’s crawled into your head and planted thoughts of closeness, of more, that you can ignore during the day but not at night.

After that day you'd formed a new routine. Going to sleep next to Ezra and waking up feeling secure in his arms before the guilt hits and you leave before he wakes. Not letting him know the comfort you've found there. 

⧫⧫⧫

Apart from the locals coming to bang on your walls every few days, weeks pass incident free as you both perform this dance around each other. Ezra finds that his cold showers are doing less and less to quell his lust, and heart is another matter entirely. So, he ignores it, treats you a little coolly, tries not to scare you off, it's getting more difficult now nearly every night he dreams of you. Sometimes it's lewd, sometimes you're chatting together, the worst are when he dreams he's just holding you. He might think it was real if not for how when he wakes up you aren't there.

Until the morning he wakes first. 

He's groggy, breathing deeply and so, so comfortable. It takes a moment to get his bearings. Shifting slightly, he realises how he's curled around you, hand on the strip of skin of your stomach where your shirt has rolled up, face pressing into the back of your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss it. When you moan quietly, he props himself up on his arm looking down at you in the low light. For a moment he thinks you're having a nightmare but you flushed, breathing shallowly and he's certain you aren't. When you whimper, he shudders, such a pretty noise. He feels tempted to stay pressed against you, to touch you, to make you make more of those noises. He fights it off, and eases away from you stepping out of the warmth of his burrow. 

He thinks, perhaps later he can talk to you, there's nothing wrong with getting some pleasure and easing some stress in each other’s arms. There isn't long left of the dig and then you'll go your separate ways, the thought stings a little. He leans back against the door. Kevva, he craves more, he wants to learn every inch of you intimately, to learn what makes you tick, to wake up with you in his arms. It aches deep in his chest, so many years spent in poor company. He hears you moan once more and groans himself, pushing off the door he trudges to the shower.

For the first time in ages, he runs it hot before stepping in and grasping his cock. He lets himself take his time, starting slow, increasing the pace till he feels like he could explode then slowing right back down again. He doesn't fight off the images of you that spring into his head now he knows what you can sound like. He imagines you making them with his tongue on you, fingers buried in you as he presses you down, how you'd whine his name, how you'd beg. Ezra grunts, staving off his orgasm once more his cock red and throbbing with his heartbeat. He pictures sinking into you, hot and wet with you pliable in his arms as he fucks you into the ground. He cums hard with a growl and a curse and then curses himself both for being loud and for allowing himself to yearn for you, then finally he begins to wash.

⧫⧫⧫

You wake with a start, panting. Your dream is vivid in your mind. Ezra grasping your hands so you couldn't move as he fucked you with his tongue moaning against you. He'd talked too, both eloquent and totally filthy as he got you exactly where he wanted you. You huff, now you were left frustrated and still pining for a man who must just see you as a utility, a way to get off this planet. Hell, he barely even knew anything about you, didn't know the most important thing. But you know you can't stay in this limbo for long now, the digs nearly done and after then what can you do. There are two options, tell him who you are and how you feel and hope for the best or just ignore it, get off the planet, take your money, and go live the quiet life you'd intended. You focus on this debate and instead of the wetness between your legs as you leave the cupboard.

You look around for Ezra and exhale as you hear the shower running, there's no way for him to know what you were dreaming of, right?

That's when you hear him, it's a low, erotic groan followed by a string of swear words and you flush as you became achingly aware of how wound tight you are. You turn away and try to ignore it, heating up water for both of your cafs as the shower stops. 

As it brews the steel door swings open and Ezra emerges wrapped in a towel and glowering, you ignore his stare and the way droplets of water slide down his chest making you want to lick him as you hand him a mug. 

Ezra watches you gnaw on your lip as you look him over and can't hold in the grin at how frustrated you seem. He can't help but tease. 

“Did you have pleasant dreams little bird? You seemed unwilling to rise this delightful morning.”

His grin widens with your eyes as you look away “Err I don't remember… did you sleep ok?”

“Like I was in the welcoming arms of a lover” He doesn't miss your little inhale of breath, and he wonders how best to broach the topic of mutual pleasure with you. Perhaps it'll quell the urge to keep you safe in his arms.

The way Ezra is teasing you makes you think perhaps he can read your mind. As he goes to dress you make a decision, after the dig you'll explain how you really got here, explain how you don't want to leave him after the dig is done. And hopefully he'll be worn out enough that, should he decide you're too much of a liability, you can out run him.

As you head out an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you tell Ezra as much but he just chuckles, “Perhaps you're still tired”

The morning goes smoothly, you're in the pit this time handing stuff out every so often to Ezra, his fingers brushing yours. Both of you work quickly, you puff, out of breath, as you stretch yourself up for yet another hand off. His ability to talk is once again surprising you. You laugh at his story despite the unease and the beat of the sun in your back and miss the delighted expression that crosses Ezra's face from your position in the pit.

Like a light switching, the energy shifts. You know there's trouble before Ezra mumbles through the comm “Little bird, stay down. Company approaches.”

Your blood runs cold when a voice responds, already on your frequency, a voice you know. “Greetings friend, we think you can help us out.”

Ezra eyes the pair in front of him, knowing you’d been made was adding a layer of worry to a tense situation, “I'll help if I can but, you're encroaching on my little territory you know how it is. I will be obliged to defend it”

You hear the pair step closer “Actually we're looking for someone,” your eyes slip closed as you stay stock-still, “See they greatly are responsible for our predicament. However,” the voice is clear like they already know you're here, crap, how long did they listen in? “If they were to help us find something we've lost. I can assure their punishment is… swift.”

You swallow as they step to the edge of the pit, Damon glares down at you “Hello darling, long time no see”

Ezra looks shockingly calm, still smiling as you glance at him, “Now then, that is not a polite way to address my partner.”

The other man scoffs, second in command Barlow, “Your partner? Back to your old ways I see.” He looks Ezra up and down. “You’re their type”

You think perhaps you see Ezra's jaw clench before he's grinning “It hardly seems fair for you to make off with my partner, does it? No, not without compensation which unless my ears deceive me, you can't give me without them.”

Before you can blink guns are drawn and you feel like a fish in a barrel, stuck in the pit without Ezra to pull you out.

“You don't know who we are, do you? I suppose in the suits you can't tell but I'd have thought with your… intimate relationship to our engineer you might have figured it out.”

Ezra’s gun doesn't waver for a second but his mind reels. The bandage on your arm, it couldn't be. Surely, he hadn't been so blinded by your company not to notice that. His eyes darken and he thinks, for a moment this man, Damon, realises he's going to die the split second before Ezra shoots.

Barlow’s slower, surprised at him for making the first move but despite his fumble this was a real stand-off. He meets Ezra's glare and they're frozen in time for a moment. Just as he watches the man start to squeeze the trigger and prepare to shoot, he flops sideways. Ezra swings his thrower round you see you, gun in one hand, body turned to the side, still poised from the shot neither of them had seen coming.

Ezra looks as surprised as you feel, even taking aim you hadn't been sure you should save him. But, in the second the men had forgotten about you, you'd let instinct take over and your instinct had chosen Ezra. You hoped it was correct.

Perhaps not. You watch as Ezra’s face darkens, his teeth bared as he levels his pistol at you. “Little bird” his voice makes you shiver despite the heat, “Be so kind as you toss your shooter up here. I think we will be having words.”

You can only nod, what can you do? He says he wants to talk so you'll talk, out of the pit. Where you can stand your ground. You swallow and throw your gun up to him. He gives you a curt nod picking it up and turning away. For a terrifying moment you think he's going to leave you here to die slowly but before you can beg him not to, he returns and tosses a pack down.

“Pack up your gear. We're leaving.” His tone leaves no room for argument so you pack away his equipment as quickly as you can and put it on as you wait and listen to him packing his own, wondering if the shots will draw more trouble.

After all the time spent getting used to his talking, his silence is terrifying. It allows you to think, to panic, to imagine the worst thing he can do. Probably leave you on this planet to rot or be torn to pieces by the locals. You squeeze your eyes shut at the thought.

“Come on now, your elevator awaits” You open them to see he's offering his hand down for you to grab. You do your best to ignore the pistol in the other as you grab a hold and scramble out of the hole you had been sure was going to become your grave. Ezra doesn't loosen his grip on your arm as he hauls you to your feet and strides away from the dig forcing you to trot behind him to keep up.

You stare up at him as he pulls you along trying to read his thoughts. He doesn't look at you scowling straight ahead, his grip vice like and bruising. You don't try to shake him off, you’re sure he's worked out who you are. Your former co-workers hadn't been subtle but you can't gage whether or not this is a walk to the noose.

⧫⧫⧫

Tugging you into the pod he releases your arm and turning to seal the door he finally speaks. “Take off your helmet” His tone sends goosebumps over prickling over your skin so you pull it off and go to set it down on the table. When you turn back, he's right in front of you glaring down eyes dark. It makes you feel tiny. “Show me your arm.”

His words are too concise, so abrupt you hesitate. It's like he's a different person, an enemy you aren't sure you should comply to. Ezra decides you're taking too long and seizes the top of your arms spinning you both around and pinning you against the pod's wall, knee hitched up between your legs keeping you in place. You squirm in a futile attempt to get away and gasp as he unzips the front of your suit and shoves it down to your waist. Ezra breathes heavily as he rakes his eyes up to your body to your face. Doing his best to swallow down his desire, he ignores your own heaving chest and grabs the back of your neck forcing you to look up at him.

“Little bird, take off that measly scrap of fabric and reveal the truth.” You gulp eyes wide fingering the knot of the bandage on your arm. Ezra gives you a little shake. “Do it now.”

So, you do, pulling apart the knot and unwinding it from your arm. You don't look at it, perhaps if you don't see it, it's not really there. Instead, you watch Ezra's face for his reaction, gleaning nothing as he releases your shoulder and grabs your wrist bringing it up for him to see clearly. His brow furrows as he inspects your forearm, a brand of three circles linked like a chain. Kevva, he'd hoped he'd been mistaken. You're frozen as his gaze returns to you, dark eyes furious he crowds around you, filling your senses, body pressing you against the wall. His leg shifts slightly between yours and you almost whimper.

“You've been dishonest, little bird, and I do not appreciate it.” Ezra feels at war, he's furious you lied but he understands why. He's fuming you had been running with a violent, malevolent group of pirates. He doesn't understand why you'd ran after the crash or why you'd turned to him. He wants to know what you have that your crew found so valuable. He wants to know how you're both so hard and so soft. All these thoughts rattle around in his head as he stares at you, your mouth slightly open and your lips wet, until he can only think about how good you feel pressed against him, how delicate you feel under the hand on your neck. How much, despite everything, he wants you. He doesn't notice how close he's gotten to you until he feels the puff of your breath on his face. And then you utterly surprise him.

You can almost hear him think as he stares down at you. You don't want to interrupt but his hold on you is drawing attention to his size, to how much strength and power he holds. It's like he's swirling all around you clouding your brain, filling it with him. So, you let yourself do what you want. You've got nothing to lose. Everything that's yours is in his hands and you can't bring yourself to care. He's leaning closer, bending so with his hand on your neck tilting your head up it's like you’re sharing breath. You close the gap and kiss him.

For a second, he freezes in surprise and then he's kissing you back. Harshly biting your lower lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It's desperate and rough and you lick into his mouth in response loving the low moan coming from deep in his chest. He releases your wrist and grasps your hip closing any distance left between you. He grinds into you, the leg between your thighs causing a delicious friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and stares down at you for a second moving his hands to the bottom of your vest. At your nod he tugs it off and pounces back on you. He rubs his hands up your sides as he kisses you, loving the feeling of how big they are on your frame and how you gasp as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You wriggle against him trying to unfasten his suit and shove it down his arms. He obliges, stepping back he pushing it off and kicks it away leaving him in his underclothes, staring at you, pupils blown wide with lust as he takes you in. Then he's back on you, seizing your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him as his other hand tugs down the remainder of your suit taking your leggings with it.

Eyes look up and down your form, drinking it in as he reaches down to rub a finger over the wetness soaking your underwear. Your mouth drops open and Ezra seizes the opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth, his grip adjusting to your chin. Smiling as you suck on it.

“Look at you” he coos dragging his nose into your cheek almost mockingly “On display for me, you look good enough to eat.” He punctuates this by biting your neck and pulling your thin underwear taut against your clit just enough you cry out and stand on tiptoe. He grins down at you as you bite down gently on his thumb and then pulls off your underwear letting you kick it aside before stroking his fingers across your slit so gently it makes you buck towards his hand. He moves his hand back to your hip, pinning you back to the wall as he pulls his thumb from your mouth and wraps his hand around your throat, not squeezing just resting there.

“I want you to stay still,” his voice is low and commanding so you nod. “Repeat it back to me, I want to hear you.”

You whimper, “I'll stay still” and he grins before bending to kiss and nip along your jaw above his hand as his other moves back down to your cunt. He circles your clit so gently it's like he isn't really touching you and just as he slightly increases the pressure he draws back. A needy whine falls from your throat but you stay still and he murmurs against your cheek.

“Good little bird, so wet for me. You're positively dripping,” and then just as slowly he eases a finger into. You cry out, so wound tight it's agonising, the contrast between how harshly he gripped you before against his irreverent touches now making you ache for him more than ever. “Sing for me little bird” he demands and then he's really moving, pressing his finger against that spot inside you that makes you see stars, thumb drawing circles over your clit making you moan so loudly it surprises you. 

Ezra watches the flush spread over your skin as your eyes roll back, he doesn't know how he wants you first. Just as you’re getting close, he realises. He wants you begging. 

He forces himself to pull his hand away from you and watches as you shudder with tension eyes opening to look up at him. “Ezra…” your voice is so soft he grins.

You watch him as he raises his hand to his face to lick your juice off it, sucking his finger with a pop. It's so erotic you can only whimper as he smirks down at you. You want to touch yourself, make yourself cum while he watches, but as you lower your hand down he grabs your wrist and moves it back to his shoulder. “Don't misbehave birdie, right now all your pleasure is mine.” You bite your lip.

Then he returns his hand to your pussy, this time shoving two fingers in pumping them as he rubs his thumb against your clit more firmly than before. Your body quivers but his hand against your neck keeps you in place as you moan desperately. As soon as you get close again, he slows down to a stop this time keeping you stuffed with his fingers as you try to get some friction. “Please Ezra,” the tone of your voice shocks you, you've never sounded so needy.

He moves his face away from biting your ear lobe to look at you, “Please Ezra what, little bird? You've got to be clear”

You can't stop the words tumbling out of you, “Please can I cum, please make me cum Ezra”

He smiles almost cruelly, “You sound so exquisite when you beg.” He starts working his thumb again, brushing his lips against yours. The hand on your neck finally starts to squeeze, turning you on more. “Do it again.”

You do, no power could stop you begging for him, saying his name like a prayer. And then you're cumming, your vision goes white as Ezra squeezes your throat firmly, cutting the blood from your brain dragging it out as he shoves a third finger into your wet pussy. 

Ezra swears he's never witnessed anything so magnificent. Your eyes rolling back into your head, mouth open and lips wet, unable to make a sound. How you soak his hand, how you tighten around his fingers. Now all he wants is to find out how many times, how many ways, he can break you apart.

When you begin to squirm, he reluctantly pulls away, you look up only to find he's pulling off his shirt and trousers. Your eyes widen as his cock springs free. You'd known he carried himself like he had nothing to be insecure about but Kevva… he's packing. It's huge and beautiful, slightly curved, a striking vein runner down it. You feel a little more breathless at the sight.

Ezra catches you staring and grins, pressing back against you, grabbing your arse and lifting you against him. You wrap your legs around him as he pins you up against the wall. His cock feels even bigger pressed against your stomach. Ezra grinds against you sucking marks down your neck as he notches himself at your entrance. You whine and claw his shoulders, he's barely into you and you're sure you've never felt so full. “Ezra” your voice is thready “Ezra I don't think you're going to fit.”

He coos in response thrusting shallowly getting slightly further in and making a cry out as you feel yourself drip around his cock. “Don't fret little bird,” he thrusts again getting deeper, kissing you, relishing the feeling of your heat around him, “I know you can take me.”

He thrusts decisively, bottoming out and pushing the air from your lungs. It feels like he's breaking you open, splitting you in two with his cock and you love it. Love the ache as you adjust, love how you can almost feel him in your stomach, love how he has you pinned to the wall supported by those strong hands and his body and totally at his mercy.

You can barely register he's talking as he grinds his hips against your clit. “... squeezing so tight around me. Never in all my time have I gotten so close to Nirvana.”

He waits until you've started to writhe in his arms, just add he'd imagined, begging for him to move. Then he starts long deep thrusts, interspersed by him grinding against your clit making you whimper and moan as you feel his cock drag across your walls.

“Kevva plucked you out of my head and sent you here for me. You're divine, exquisite…” you can't focus on the words, in no time at all you're cumming again. Squeezing him so tight he chokes on his words and kisses you deeply. He doesn't slow down or speed up, keeping his devastating pace until your body starts to relax. Then he nips at your jaw, hooking his arms under your knees and around your back, spreading his palms wide. He steps away from the wall and, slightly afraid he'll drop you, you grab the back of his neck, but you needn't worry. 

Now with you impaled on his cock suspended in the air by his arms, he truly begins to ruin you. Lifting you up and slamming you back he watches your cunt take him, watches how your breasts bounce, watches you throw your head back in a silent scream. He bites into your neck leaving a mark as he sets a brutal pace. Seeing you like this, feeling you like this, has stolen his vocabulary so he curses and growls as he watches, totally enraptured by how well you take him. He thinks maybe he tells you but he can't be sure.

Ezra’s still talking his sentences shorter but still as dirty, the way he praises you makes you moan and combined with his he is destroying you; you don't think you'll ever experience something this good again and then you don't think anything much at all. Just Ezra, his strength, his beautiful words, how perfectly he's fucking you.

Ezra knows he can't last much longer, not in this heaven but he's determined to make you cum again before he does just to feel it. So, he moves you slightly in his arms until he hits that bit which takes your cries even higher. He grins as you dig your nails into his shoulders, the slight pain both grounding him and making him lose his mind.

You feel so overwhelmed and overstimulated that when he adjusts his thrusting you can't help the few tears escaping as you wail. He just pulls you slightly closer and licks them up before staring down and watching how your pussy stretches to take him. You’re so close again you're sure you might explode if you don't cum, or if you do. And then you do, you can't even make a sound as your whole body goes rigid and Ezra doesn't stop pounding you. Instead, you hear him growl and curse and his thrusts get faster and shorter.

Ezra had never experienced anything hotter. The way you threw your head back and took it as he fucked you like a ragdoll. The feeling of you clenching around him. How you soaked him, the sound of your fucking would stay with him forever. And then he's cumming, he bites down on your shoulder groaning into your skin as he releases. His mind is wonderfully blank as he squeezes you against himself and fills you up with a dozen shallow thrusts.

He doesn't release you right away, just holds you to his chest as he turns to lean against the wall cock still in you. Blissful in the moments before his thoughts start buzzing again. When you can move you look up at Ezra, he meets your eyes, gaze totally unreadable. He reluctantly releases you with a groan and grabs his shirt as he kneels and begins to clean off your combined juices dripping down your legs. Seeing him on his knees taking care of you threatens to give you hope which you tamped down. He didn't know the truth yet and he had readily thrown you out once before. When he's done, he stands and tosses the shirt to the side, tugs on his soft under trousers as you pull on your own clothes. The silence feels like a giant pit between you and you glare at your feet unsure how to start this important conversation.

To your surprise Ezra gently pinches your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “We've still got much to discuss, little bird.” At your nod he pulls your hand into his ignoring how small and delicate it feels and gently tugs you towards the burrow. He has to know the truth.

⧫⧫⧫

You sit next to each other, his back against the wall, you sitting forward nervously running your fingers over the brand on your arm. Ezra just watches you, waits for you to explain and hopes you aren't a threat he'll have to get rid of after you've shared such intimacy.

“I don't… I won't come off like a very good person or partner when I tell you this. So just listen… please?”

Ezra nods, “None of us can be considered a good person, our humanity is dependent on our survival” he sighs, “Spin your tale, I'll remain in silence until it's done and keep my judgement of our partnership till it's completion”

You swallow, “I fixed a ship, that's how this whole mess started. We were leaving a dig and something had gone wrong which would have forced us to land. But I suited up and fixed it in zero G. It was completely stupid and shouldn't have worked but it did and we made it back to the dock. It wasn't till we'd sold off all our gems and separated that I was cornered. Turns out the malfunction wasn't an accident and by fixing it I'd cost them a lot of money in what they would have stolen from us. They reckoned I owed them and… they aren't people you want to owe”

You close your eyes and Ezra watches you tense. He'd like nothing more than to pull you into his arms but as he reaches for you, he clenches his fist. He needs to hear you out.

“They went through the rest of my team to get to me…” oh, Ezra understands they'd totally isolated you. “Well, they worked out since I could fix their brakes, I could mess up the ships in ways that couldn't be fixed without an emergency landing. They branded me there and then. Didn't even tell me how long I'd have to work to balance what I owed; probably thought I'd be dead by then.” You look down at your arm and frown.

When you look back at Ezra, his eyes are sharp, watching you intensely. “That scars old, little bird, how long did you dutifully aid their robberies.” Robberies of prospectors, people like him, people who'd been like you.

You look away, jaw clenched, “Long enough for it to get easy.”

Ezra doesn't move behind you, doesn't speak. You can't look at him.

“And then I couldn't anymore, I saw what I'd become and I hated it.” Your nails dig into your arm. “No one's good out in the fringe. But I was worse. I can't make up for what I did… can't take it back, can't return lives, possessions any of that. But I could stop, bring my crew down too. We used a distress beacon to lure in the other ships and…” you laugh “This time as I boarded after dealing with the other ship. I dunno, I just snapped and blew our engine too.”

Your mouth twists at the memory, “The pilot saw and I… when I was done, I just thought one down. I didn't want to die myself, that’s the easy way out, so I did my best to pull the chutes, hoping I'd play dead and hitch a ride out. Well, you know the rest.”

You stare straight ahead as a tense silence follows not daring to see Ezra glare at you. You don't see his soft eyes looking you up and down, his mind reeling. Had he known this when you’d first met, he would have shot you without question and left you to rot, your presence nothing more than a risk to his survival. But now, you’d saved him, talked with him, he’d gotten to know you. How you drink your caf black saying you’re “sweet enough”, how you look in the morning, how you laugh, how you moan. He knows he can’t kill you now, but you are a threat. He doesn’t know what to do. “Why are they searching for you? What do you have that they want? Your friend mentioned something.”

You laugh humorlessly, “They don't know where the other ship crashed, I was in the pilot’s seat, so no one else could see it go down. Fat lot of good it'll do them wrecked here.”

There's a bang on the side of the pod, “Shite” Ezra mumbles, “Our quixotic friends have returned.”

⧫⧫⧫

The wait for them to leave seems to take hours, the silence making your heart pound and your thoughts race over what you can do now. Ezra will definitely want you gone, only a mad man would keep you around with your history. Perhaps back to the original plan, see if you can mend the other ships escape pod and get the hell off this planet.

By the time the locals have decided your pod is empty, your plan is set. You stand, not looking back at Ezra. “I'll get scarce, I know I'm a problem waiting to happen.”

You grab your bag feeling in the pocket for your ring, a memory of a home you can't return to, old gods you're no longer sure are there. You look down at it as you step out of the burrow not noticing Ezra follow. You shove it into your suit pocket.

He is stumped for words as he watches you grab your possessions that have become scattered around the pod. He sees how your lives have become enmeshed. Scraps from your notebook scattered around where you'd played hangman or left notes and reminders for each other, items of clothing he watches you fail to pack, that damn terrible caf on the workbench.

He's not sure that he'll ever get all the pieces of you out of the pod, out of himself. You're under his skin, the very smell of you making his heart beat with more determination. As you reach for your helmet, he grabs your hand and finally you look up at him.

“Don't leave, I don't want you to leave.”

It's so simple but it means so much more and he thinks you maybe realise as you look up at him tears in your eyes. “I don't want to go.”

And then he kisses you. It's slower than before but no less fierce sparking a deep need in your chest. Gently now, he pulls off your suit as if he's still persuading you to stay before running his hands up your arms and down your back and sides like he's memorising your shape. When he kisses you again it's hungry, intense, he's trying to put words he's afraid to speak into it and it totally wiped your mind as you let him pull you back into his burrow.

Then he's peeling all your clothes off you. His touch is irreverent like he's unwrapping a precious artifact. He tugs you to lie down and settles between your legs pulling off his own shirt. He balances his weight on his arm above your head to nip at your lips, you reach up to run your hands up his chest, feeling him shudder as you gently rake your nails over the skin.

His other hand is squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple before seizing your hip and pulling you flush against him. The friction of his trousers against you, combined with how he's surrounding you, invading all your senses, is overwhelming.

“You are something else entirely,” he's kissing his way down your body, sucking purple bruises as he goes, seeming determined to mark every inch of you. “I could travel the whole breadth of this hostile galaxy and never find a sight as breath-taking as you laid out before me, a divine meal worthy of gods”

His words turn you on more as his ministrations make their way down to your legs. He bites your inner thigh almost too hard, making you squeal and jerk away but he grabs your hips and pulls you back, laving his tongue over the slight indent left by his teeth. You don't know how he's done it, not hours ago he railed you into oblivion and somehow, he has wound you tight all over again. It's like he's playing an instrument, plucking your strings both hard and soft so you melt.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hungry and he holds your gaze as he licks up your slit, his tongue wide as flat. You moan softly as he smiles, “Straight from the source your essence is even more delectable.” He stares at your pussy, seemingly fascinated by how it's fluttering around nothing, totally rapt by a droplet of your arousal sliding its way down.

You whimper at him, and try to buck your hips in his grip, desperate for him to do anything other than stare. He chuckles at you, “So willing to give yourself to me,” then he spits on your cunt. You gasp, half from shock and half from how much it turned you on. He grins as you tense and dives in.

Ezra eats you out like water from a well after crossing a desert. It feels as if he's writing the words, you’re stopping him saying all over your clit as you cry his name. His eyes closed he reaches up and seizes your hands, pulling you closer and settling his elbows over your hips keeping you still and at his mercy as he moans against you. Your eyes close as you feel sparks travel up and down your spine as he shoves his tongue into you making you whine but then he pulls away. Rubbing his cheek on your thigh, his beard tickling you.

“I want you to look at me little bird.” You can't help but obey his command instantly opening your eyes to see his pupils blown wide as he smirks. “You'd do just about anything for me to let you cum, wouldn't you? Don't worry your pretty head. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Then he's back on you, sucking your clit between his teeth, you gasp his name trying to squirm away. his eyes piercing you, his mouth on you, his hands covering yours, his arms holding you down. It fills your head with him totally overpowering you and then you cum.

You go totally rigid, you're still looking at Ezra but your vision has gone so white you can't see him, just feel him moan against your cunt as you soak his tongue. Even as you start attempting to twist away, he continues, switching between sucking and licking at you as his strong arms pin you down. You cry out at the overstimulation, shuddering from it, tears leaking from your eyes and in no time at all you're thrown over the edge again. Cumming so hard your mind is totally wiped of anything but Ezra.

This time he grants you a reprieve, sitting up he watches your chest heave as you slowly come back into your body. He's lost for words, seeing you like this is better than anything he'd ever imagined and he still wants more, wants to ring every drop of pleasure out of you. And when you smile up at him, totally blissed out and willing, he's sure he'd do almost anything to keep you.

He doesn't put it into words though. Instead, he crawls over you seizing your jaw “Open that pretty mouth little bird,” something about how you so readily obey him twists in his chest and makes his cock twitch. He ignores it and bends close spitting into your mouth. You can taste yourself in it and it sparks your desire all over again.

He can't hold in a groan as you swallow, still smiling, his head seems too empty so he kisses you. It's fiery, filled with lust as you kiss him back and wrap your legs around him reaching down to pull off his trousers, he pulls back to kick them away as his cock springs free, it's hot and red as you wrap you hand around it, not even able to meet finger and thumb and squeeze slightly making him growl and bite along your jawline. “Tell me little bird, what would you will me to do?”

You meet his gaze, “Fuck me.” he groans into your neck, “Please.”

He watches your face as he positions himself at you entrance, “Kevva,” it's like he's not really talking to you, “I've never borne witness to anything so magnificent as your perfect cunt soaking me,” he slowly pushes his way in. It makes you whimper and him growl and you watch the tension in his neck as he restrains himself from ruining you, “Fuck you're tight.” His language is getting simpler as he starts losing control. His soft eyes beg you to let him move as his jaw clenches and you can't help but give in. 

“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”

The noise he makes is inhuman as he starts drilling into you. He shoves one of your knees up over his shoulder, deepening his thrusts making you cry out as he shreds against your walls. All he can think is how hot you are, how wet, how tight, how perfectly you take him. He's shoving up against your g shot with every thrust, coarse hairs grinding on your clit, you feel totally at his mercy to do nothing but take it and it may be the best sex you've ever experienced, ever will experience.

He looks beautiful, your juices still glistening on his face, brow furrowed and eyes half lidded but so piercing you might think he was furious if not for how in-between curses he's describing you, what he thinks of you. You aren't sure he even knows he's talking and the need in his words drives you higher and higher despite how spent you feel, how much you don't think you can cum again. And then you do. Kevva the way you clamp down on him clawing his back makes him lose his mind, he shoves both your knees up to your chest bending over you to bite you lower lip. The change in angle adds more friction, his thrusts get shorter, faster. Ezra cums so hard he can't think, you watch his eyes roll into his head, the groan he makes cuts off his own speech as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can get and releases. 

Ezra’s ears are still ringing when he manages to roll himself off you. Both of you are panting, as you stare at the roof of the pod and try to muster the words. Naturally, Ezra succeeds first. “Little Bird, I didn't know experiences such as that could be bestowed upon men like me.” You can only make a little noise in reply as he takes your hand and silence falls again.

Finally, when your breath is caught and you can both think again, he pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Little bird, I'm starting to agree our dig may be bust. Trouble is biting our ankles and I should have listened earlier. Let's pillage what we can to fix the pod and get going. The dig is almost done, even split it'll be a while before I need to pick up another job.” You feel a sting at how quickly Ezra had returned to talking business but you do your best to brush it off. There's nothing wrong with some shagging between friends and it's no reason for him to feel the same fluttering in his chest that you do in yours.

“Right then we should travel light, get everything we need and come back. The fix won't take long, we can be gone in two days.” Two days left with Ezra makes you feel a little sad, you suppose you'd just gotten used to his company.

Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”

You turn and roll over enjoying how he follows, wrapping you in his arms, tangling your legs like he can't bear to be separate. “I do have a question for you if you don't mind?”

You shrug, “Depends what it is.”

“What is that strange ring you carry but don't put on.”

“It's… it was a gift when I left home. It's supposed to be my payment.”

Ezra's mind casts back to how you paid honour to the dead, even those he certainly didn't think deserved a boatman. Saving them from a potential purgatory. But you didn't wear yours.

“Little bird, forgive my bluntness but curiosity is driving me to ask. Why don't you wear it?”

You squeeze your eyes closed, forcing away images of your past, grounded in Ezra's warm grip. “It's,” you sigh, “It's just too heavy.”

Ezra can feel how tense you've become and fights off the heavy guilt threatening to settle in his chest. You think yourself deserving of the hundred-year wait wandering the shore, think the loneliness is just. He kisses the back of your neck. “We should let our dreams take us lest we attract more trouble. It is salient we are well rested.”

You sigh, relaxing against him despite yourself. Long since exhausted by the day and his attentions, you let yourself drift off. Faintly feeling a hand caress your cheek, but you could have imagined it.

⧫⧫⧫

Waking up with someone warm in his arms is something Ezra could get used to. He tells you as much but you brush it off, someone isn't necessarily you after all. Ezra talks as you pack but he avoids the subject of you, of you both. He didn't want to scare you off, he tells himself, his flighty little bird. But he knows he's lying to himself, just being a coward, afraid of your reaction. He avoids meeting your eye until, helmets on, you both stand by the door. Taking a moment of peace before heading into the waste. He takes your hand seeking reassurance as much as trying to give it. You meet his eyes looking a little afraid but determined. He squeezes it tight before letting go and opening the door.

The walk East is easy enough, a pretty straight shot over flat ground. The only real problem being navigating the increasingly dense petrified forest. Ezra talks continuously, but you're grateful, glad it isn't awkward between you and enjoying his descriptions of other worlds he's visited. Where instead of breathless death and grey, there's vivid greens and blues of plants and flowers. Where the beauty is just as dangerous as this blank world. And, slowly, you start to talk too. Really talk. You describe a world that, to you, had seemed to be entirely made up of a casino, and the trouble you had gotten into there.

“Too rich for my blood,” Ezra chuckles and you agree.

You don't tell him about your home, not yet. But being able to talk, to laugh about something you'd done, feels freeing. Like a weight has been lifted ever so slightly off your shoulders.

You’re both grateful the walk is uneventful but you can't relax as the looming silhouette of the other spaceship appears through the trees. It's still too early for hope.

As you approach you see that the crew had successfully pulled their parachutes, but too late. The side of the ship had caved in where it had skidded across the earth, giving you both a way in. When you stop Ezra’s looking at you, “Any chance of survivors, little bird?”

You just shrug. “I doubt it after this. They were running a skeleton crew.” You wince slightly at the double entendre, hoping you have the time to find their bodies and pay their dues.

Ezra raises an eyebrow at you. “On a ship this big? That is most peculiar.”

“I guess, I didn't get a chance to think about it at the time.”

You go over the list again, 5 items, 5 areas. All small enough to carry in your packs. To yourself you add another item, just in case you get the chance.

“We stick together, watch each other’s backs.” You nod in agreement and you both step into the ship.

⧫⧫⧫

There's a faint dripping noise, like a clock ticking. It sets off your nerves as you leave the light of the suns. Inside is cast in red, a good sign the electrics haven't been fried, but totally unsettling. It casts humanoid shadows across the grated walls seemingly flickering with every step. Ezra had gone totally silent but his presence behind you is reassuring. Together you pry open the first door.

Inside has the same red light but the weapons board flashes at you telling you it's still live which is strange. You mumble it to Ezra. “These things usually shut down first after a crash, they drain loads of power that's usually diverted out.”

He frowns at you. “Mayhaps a malfunction? It looks like a rough crash.”

“Yeah. Probably.” But it niggles at the back of your brain. All you can do right now is ignore it so you wrench the panel out from the wall to the side and stick your arm in. Feeling around, you brush your fingers up against the dotted cylinder you need. These old ships had a habit of hiding important components in baffling locations, apparently to protect them in a crash which you do suppose this has, but you suspect it's to confuse novice engineers and pillagers alike. 

Ezra is keeping a sharp eye on the door but he can't help but enjoy watching you work, grumbling about what a stupid place this was for a fuse break and how it would have been harder to wreck their engine had it actually been where all the ships power came from. He grins at you and you smile back tugging the, whatever it was, out of the wall. He tosses his pack over to you.

“I'll get this one birdie,” making you roll your eyes but you gently place it in and hand it back. 

“Take care of that.”

“I'll cradle it as if it were a new-born.” He says so sincerely you can't help but snort.

“Don't worry too much, ships like these are made hardy, they don't just fry things like your pod.” He scowls playfully at you as you head back to the corridor.

“I will not hear a negative word about her, we've been together for years.”

The ship groans around you as if it's a living creature as you head deeper in. The maze of corridors makes Ezra feel turned around but you seem to know where to go and he follows dutifully. The next stop is a storage closet smaller than his little burrow.

Inside is a collection of boxes from which you produce two tiny discs. You look at Ezra, “I doubt they'll mind me taking a spare, these things are expensive.” Still not being entirely sure what everything you're searching for is, he just shrugs,

The moment of ease sputters out when you enter comms. There's a buzzing that sets your teeth on edge, someone's been on the radio. Ezra clicks it off but the silence is suddenly oppressive. Trying hard to hear any sign of life you scan the dark corners of the space. 

“We don't know how long this has been on.” Ezra’s voice is steady but there's an edge you know too well. You agree all the same, hurrying to rip the tubing out from under the console. The blinking lights shut off with a hum as Ezra takes it from you, looping it together and shoving it into his pack. You don't argue.

Two items left, you'd saved the cockpit and the engine till last, both at the opposite end of the ship. 

The door to the cockpit is open. you look at Ezra, his jaw is set glaring into it. You head in first moving swiftly to the control panel to the side to start pulling the whole thing apart for one measly chip. He disappears into the shadows to search the room. It's too big, too many places to hide, he thinks to himself trying to picture the best place for an ambush.

He finds one body, curled in on itself as if tossed into the corner. The next is under a nav table, arms over its head. The final one is the hardest to look at, in the pilot seat, hand still grasping the parachute release. He swallows as he takes in this futile effort to survive, picturing the final moments as the ground rises to meet them, the hopelessness.

He spins when he hears your voice.

“Wait, wait!”

“You should have stayed away-“

Ezra doesn't even think, he just shoots and the man with a blade at your throat drops. He didn't even know he could draw that fast. He fights off the adrenaline, calming his breathing as he approaches you. Your eyes are wide with shock and you take a deep breath looking up at him.

“Thank you, Ezra.”

He just wants to pull you close, hold you against him, protect you with his body. With the suits and helmets, it would be uncomfortable so he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest.

“Think nothing of it.”

“I didn't think there could be any survivors.” At that he examined the body. Shit, the suit, the emblem, the skull etched into the glass of his helmet.

“That, little bird, is because there aren't any. It appears that the locals are here.”

You squeeze his hand. “We've got to hurry.”

He nods, “Give me three coins.”

He’s found them. You'd already known they'd be dead but the confirmation sits heavily over you. You hand him the coins.

“You finish here, I'll take care of them. Don't worry.”

The kindness he's showing by doing it for you aches in your chest. You take the frustration out on the unsuspecting control panel. Tearing into it, pulling parts out, desperately trying to get a grip on your emotions and breathe a sigh of relief when you emerge, chip in hand. No one has ever extracted one so quickly you reckon. You shove it in your pack.

Heading to Ezra you take his hand, try to convey thanks through the touch alone. Thanks for saving you, thanks for not making you bear this burden solitarily, thanks for just being company after so long alone. You look up at him, he's chewing his words again but doesn't speak so you turn and lead him out.

In the engine room you seize a battery and yank it from the wall, grateful the lights stay on. Ezra takes it from you. “Don't argue birdie I'm bigger than you.”

He's cut off by a horn echoing through the ship. You swallow. 

Taking his hand again, you both creep out of the room. Every sound is too loud, you curse your boots, the rattle of your tools, your own harsh breathing. You can't fail now, you're so close. At the sound of footsteps, you pull Ezra through a door into a room with bunks, closing the door as quietly as you can, you both hold your breath. As they pass the door his grip tightens on yours so much you feel the heat of his hand through your gloves. His eyes scan your face, like he's trying to memorise what you look like. You realise you’re doing the same to him.

When they pass you glance around the room as Ezra slumps against the door his eyes shut tightly. As you let go of him you see something in the corner of your eye. No fucking way. It's a gem case, unassuming on the outside but far bigger than the one Ezra carried. Item number six.

You shove it into your bag.

⧫⧫⧫

Neither of you seem to breath for the rest of your journey through the ship. Eyes and ears too peeled to do much else. The second you see the light outside you swallow. You say a prayer to yourself as you creep towards it.

The light blinds you as you step out. Something shoves you to the side, you hit the ground hard knocking the wind out of you as you try to see what hit you. The second your eyes adjust to the light you see Ezra trying to knock back one of the locals, trying to gain space to draw. You wrestle your pistol out of your holster and aim but you can't shoot. Their dance is too close and you're afraid to hit Ezra. 

It all happens in slow motion. The stranger thrusts his spear into Ezra's stomach and pulls it out. He cries out stumbling back giving you a straight shot. You fire the same moment as the local brings his spear down on Ezra’s helmet.

You shoot too late. 

Ezra drops back against the ship sliding to sit. Shattered glass glitters over the ground around you threatening to cut your knees as you crawl to him. His helmet is shattered.

“No no no no no” you press on the wound in his stomach tugging your pack off your back to get the med kit. “We've got to go, there's going to be more of them.”

He puts a hand over yours. “Little bird, I'm afraid my adventure has come to its conclusion”

You look at his face. “No Ezra! I can close this for now, we've got time. We can make it back.” His eyes are wide and sad, wet with the threat of tears. “Don't look at me like that!” There's desperation in your voice.

“You've got to go. Relieve yourself of my burden, you can repair the vessel and get away by yourself. You don't need me.”

“Shut up! I can't just leave you here.” You push his hands away and pull out a gun of sealing foam “Don't fucking argue with me, we've got so close you can't just give up.” Ignoring his arguments, you press the nozzle through his suit and fill his wound. He lets out a groan. As quick as you can, you pull your pack back on and stand seizing Ezra's arms and heaving him to his feet. He gives a short shout of pain but doesn't protest as you hook his arm over your shoulder for support.

You start to walk like this as the suns begin to dip. Keeping your pistol in your free hand you scan around you. The dead trees provide good cover but they also give any attackers the element of surprise so you do your best to listen out whilst you support Ezra.

It's a little difficult with his talking but you can't complain, not when it means he's still alive. But he's getting heavy, putting more weight on you, you don't know how long you can hold him up. Just as you're beginning to feel truly weak his topic of conversation changes.

“Little bird, it has been an exponential honour to be enclosed within your company. To have your trust if only a little. Kevva, the chance to learn your body the way I got to was a treasure worth more than any gem I could find. I only wish I could learn your mind just as intimately, to possess the knowledge of what makes you laugh, cry, your favourite food, favourite music. I'd cherish every drop of yourself you'd let me have until I could carry a vault of you with me”

“Ezra, don't…”

“The opportunity is being stolen from me, I both resent it and I'm so grateful for the time I've had. Little bird, don't let my soliloquy deceive you. I mean every word.”

You can't stop moving, but you grab onto him a little tighter. Letting yourself squeeze your eyes closed just for a moment to fight off the tears. There's no guarantee he'll survive, no hope yet, no point admitting feelings just to let him die. It would hurt too much.

You keep walking. Reminding Ezra to breath as slow as he can. Holding yourself together just to keep him upright.

Then you see it, your pod, through the trees, dark against the burning red sky. 

There are two locals at the door. They turn.

Before you can think to react, Ezra pushes you aside as a spear careens where you'd just been stood. Drawing before you can blink, he fires twice. The locals fall. And then, so does he.

⧫⧫⧫

You aren't sure if you're saying his name out loud or just in your head. You roll him into his back and try to shake him awake. He doesn't even stir. 

Instead, you seize the straps of his pack and use them to drag him towards your pod.

Your muscles are screaming after supporting him for so long but you don't let up, drawing strength from who knows where.

How did the pod seem so close minutes ago? Now it's miles away.

You don't know when you started crying.

You don't stop moving, can't stop until you've managed to pull him inside and seal the door. You yank off your helmet, tossing it aside and falling to your knees next to him pressing your ear to his chest, desperately trying to hear his heart through his suit.

It's dead silent.

That's when you scream. Tears streaming down your face you bring your fist down on his chest as hard as you can.

“Breath you bastard! Take a fucking breath!” You're sobbing now, “You can't just leave me here, leave me all alone. Not after all this. Not when we got so close.”

You curl over him pressing your face to his, your tears dripping onto him leaving tracks through the dust and blood on his skin. “You can't leave me alone,” it's barely a whisper. “Ezra.” You say his name over and over again like a prayer.

And then his chest moves. 

You don't know whether you should laugh. You just keep bawling as you tear off his suit and grab his hand.

He doesn't wake up but it's enough, you squeeze his warm hand for another second before wiping at your face and getting your med kit. “Let's see what I can do about this wound hmm?”

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra hears someone calling his name. But they seem so far away. He tries to move towards the voice but it's like moving through syrup. He lets himself sink back.

⧫⧫⧫

The wound is deep and spurts with blood as you pull out the foam, painting your hands in the same red as the sky outside. Pursing your lips, you apologise to him, hoping he doesn’t feel the pain. Cleaning the wound takes time but as far as you can tell the spear managed to avoid all his organs so you seal it up as best you can. The lack of oxygen is what has you truly worried, who knows what damage could have been done in the time it took you to drag him to the pod. With your medication he might heal but you can’t be sure. You fight off the thoughts of what you’d have to do if he never did wake up. Would you be able to bury him?

You sleep curled to his side, a hand on his shoulder. It’s fitful, plagued by nightmares of waking up to find him cold. Every time you wake up crying, you watch his chest rise and fall and pray, he’ll make his way back to you.

⧫⧫⧫

The next thing he hears is a clang followed by a curse, then it's silent again

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra made it through the night. To distract yourself from worrying he might never wake, you wrap him up warm and begin to repair the pod. It’s slow work but its methodical movements help regulate your breathing. Until you hear a grunt. You drop whatever you were working on and swear to yourself as you kneel by him. But he’s no more present than before. Perhaps you had imagined it. Prayed so hard you’d began torturing yourself. You look over him, how could you go on without him. No one to make you laugh, or care what happens to you. It’s justice you suppose, just another thing for you to feel guilty about. You suppose you’ll go on just to keep feeling that guilt.

Again, you barely sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

And then, as if surfacing from a dive, Ezra opens his eyes. His back hurts. He works out why as, slowly, he identifies the ceiling above him. He's lying on the floor with nothing more than a pillow and a blanket that's been tucked all around him up to his neck. He wrestles his arms free, stretching them above his head and then prodding his stomach, it's tender but the wound is closed. Then he sits up with a grunt.

You're stretching up to try and pull a ration bar of the top shelf of your measly kitchen cupboard. You swear and turn to find something to climb on and then you see Ezra.

He's sitting up, grinning from ear to ear. You nearly jump a foot into the air and then you’re frozen to the spot. He chuckles to himself and clambers to his feet, it looks difficult but you aren't sure you can move to help so you stay put as he supports himself along the wall and approaches you.

“Little bird, you are the most incredible, fascinating, stubborn creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.” And then he's pulling you into his chest, wrapping you in such a grip it's a little difficult to breath but you don't mind. You just hug him back, if gently, very aware of how he'd recently been stabbed. He buries his nose in your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Three days, I managed to melt down some meds to inject you so you… well, so you actually healed. Oh, and then I fixed the pod but it didn't feel safe to take off what with you having a hole in you.”

He laughs, you can feel it rolling through his body and it makes you grin. It's so alive.

“May I also ask why I was on the floor?” That's your cue to laugh to. 

“Do you honestly think I could lift you onto the cot?”

“Frankly little bird, I didn't think you could have got me to the pod. You are certainly a force to be reckoned with and not one to be underestimated.”

You close your eyes and breath him in. “I almost didn't make it.” He just shushes you running his hands up and down your sides.

“No point wondering what could have been birdie. You saved me.” You look up at him, his eyes are wet as he smiles down at you. “What I did to deserve it may evade my knowledge forever, but it must have been spectacular.”

You feed Ezra and then force him to stay still for the day. Even as he protests you don't really think he minds, finally getting an opportunity to finish reading ‘The Power’. You sleep curled into his side.

The next day you leave.

⧫⧫⧫

Two days floating in space before the station slings back to pick you up. The sense of relief is immense. Ezra is in the seat next to you, any other person telling such a graphic tale about a flight home wrong would've sprung anyone with nerves but you just grin. You made it, you both made it.

“Even split, little bird? Although, I can't say I find the idea of us separating particularly appealing.”

You grin, “Me neither, although I do maintain the even split, you save my arse, I save yours.”

He smirks, “I'll have your arse anytime” you smack his knee with what was formerly his copy of ‘Perfume’. He scowls playfully, tossing his own book aside and tugging you into his lap.

And then looks totally bemused as your mouth drops open, “Holy shit I can't believe I forgot!” You hop off him and he grumbles at you but watches curiously wondering what you'd forgotten that was so important. You kneel to open your pack, pulling out a gem case. A huge gem case.

“Where in that abhorrent hell did you manage to acquire that?”

“I think it was why I was told to bring down that ship, I picked it up in the bunk room.”

It's locked but you happily spend the next half an hour gently taking apart one screw at a time. Ezra watches you the whole time, not even thinking about your bounty, just enjoying how you hum to yourself and smile every time a screw comes loose, batting his hands away every time he grabs at you. It's domestic.

You meet his eye as the last screw comes loose and he joins you kneeling on the floor. “Let's not get our hopes up” you say, “We've got more than enough to last a while whatever happens.” He nods and you pull the case open.

His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”

You meet his eye and laugh. You've never seen him look so surprised. There are three gems inside, each one about the size of your head.

He lets out a huff of laughter “I’m beginning to suspect there was nefarious business afoot on that ship…”

“Ezra?”

“Mmhm?”

“I think I'd like to go somewhere with a sea.”

“Little bird, I suspect that can be arranged” Then he kisses you, pulling you against him.

You wriggle back, “Even split?” He just grins and bites at your ear.

In no time at all you’re in his lap as you pull off each other’s clothes. He rubs his beard against your bare neck to make you giggle as he nibbles it, hands roaming all over you. You nip his collar bone making him groan, it flips a switch in him and seconds later he’s grabbing your hips to position you over his cock.

He lowers you down so slowly it makes you squirm and whimper and beg him to move.

He grins at you, catlike, “We’ve got all the time in the world, little bird. And I intend to use it”

⧫⧫⧫

Hours later you wake. Ezra is snoring quietly into your neck tempting you to rouse him. You’re thirsty though, so, reluctantly, you peel his arms off you to get a glass of water. As you return your toe catches on your suit where it lies on the floor. As you reach to move it your ring drops out of the pocket, clinking quiet onto the ground.

You bend to pick it up and look at Ezra, then back at the ring. Had you not gone through all those years in that gang of pirates, you’d never have found him, never got to save his arm or his life. You both might be dead. You had been right; you couldn’t change your past. But you’d never know what else might have happened. There’s still guilt, there always will be. But you feel a little lighter.

You put on the ring and return to Ezra. He pulls you against his chest without waking.

You smile.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @engineeredfiction @mothandpidgeon @sleep-tight1

[fettsvette]

Never Worn White (Part One)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 2.1k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Boba Fett was in town.

 There had been rumblings around the city for the past several days. Something big was happening, but nobody seemed to be sure of exactly what. You’d overheard people at the Shadow Market saying there was a beautiful woman who matched the description of Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan - well, formerly of Alderaan, now - staying in the guest quarters of the Administrator’s Palace, with a motley crew of attendants that included, of all creatures, a Wookiee. There were whispers of the famous spice smuggler, Han Solo, having been sighted as well, and even quieter mumblings concerning something called a ‘Skywalker’ (whatever that meant). An Imperial Garrison had been installed earlier in the week with no sign of leaving anytime soon, and the Baron Administrator himself, Lando Calrissian, had allegedly been seen meeting with Darth Vader himself. 

  Or so your roommate claimed.

  “That big scary guy who works for the Emperor? The one with the magic powers who sounds like he breathes through a gas-processing vane?” You had asked skeptically when they’d burst into your shared flat with the news, the normally relaxed Aruzan acting infuriatingly bubbly at finally having gotten hold of the hot gossip in the neighborhood before you had.

  The very same, they insisted; and the Baron hadn’t looked too pleased to be hosting such a powerful representative of the Empire, either.

  They hadn’t seen anything themself, no - they’d heard it from one of their coworkers at Pair O’ Dice, who’d claimed their cousin’s friend’s uncle had seen them together, walking across the Apex Overlook with a squadron of armed stormtroopers trailing behind them… the amount of parties involved in this city-wide game of Comlink Operator seemed to go on and on and on. You couldn’t decipher what was true, and what was just garbled rumors and hearsay. And you couldn’t make sense why such a varied amalgamation of the galaxy’s most well-known creatures would choose to congregate at a mining colony so far away in the Outer Rim.

  There was one thing you were absolutely certain of, however.

  Boba Fett was here, in Cloud City.  

  You’d never been so sure of anything in your life. You knew it was true. 

  Because you’d seen his ship yourself.

  It had been two days ago. You hadn’t been able to sleep, even after a long night waiting tables at K’cri’s Café, and you’d decided to take a walk down by the landing platforms in the wee hours of the morning, dawn still only a pinkish-orange smudge barely visible above the thick clouds. Whatever the time of day or night, there was always some action going on there - ships arriving constantly, bringing tourists from all over the galaxy looking to try their luck at one of Cloud City’s various casinos. You enjoyed watching the multitudes of different creatures disembarking off their various means of transportation - sub-aquatic Mon Calamari, blue-hued Chiss, reptilian Trandoshans; you’d even seen some gargantuan Hutts a few months ago, with their retinues of slaves and hangers-on, making their sluggish way across the concourse towards Yarith Bespin. It sometimes seemed that this city never truly slept.

  You’d been about to finally call it a night, still not particularly tired but knowing that you should attempt to go home, draw your curtains against the burgeoning light of the sun, and get some shut-eye before your next shift the following evening, when a bizarre sound from above snapped you out of your reverie. 

  You’d heard the Slave I long before you’d seen it. 

  The ship’s engine gave out a strange whining noise, unlike anything you’d ever heard in a transport. It reminded you of a gigantic buzz-bug, and you resisted the urge to swat at the air around your ears out of habit, squinting your eyes against the hazy morning light to see what kind of damned contraption could be making such a racket. 

  The ship came into view as it banked around the clouds, beginning a slow descent towards one of the nearby docks, and you felt your heart give a walloping jolt from the shock of what you were witnessing.

  ‘No… it can’t be… not here…’

  The ship was an ugly, mottled thing - a retired Firespray model of Old Republic make, the paint faded red and greenish-grey, much of it scraped away and adorned with deep gouges and obvious carbon scoring from firefights over the years. It had seemed to glide almost effortlessly through the air as it swept towards the docks, and as the transport grew closer and its image became more clear, your eyes widened, your blood screaming in your ears, your heart threatening to jump up out of your throat and flee from your frozen form. Its strangely vertical craft had suddenly rotated horizontally in the air, hanging momentarily as if suspended by a fine thread, and sank down to settle on one of the nearby landing pads, steam from the thrusters billowing around its now motionless form.

  You knew the ship well, although you’d never actually seen it in real life. It was all over the HoloNet almost every time a huge sum of credits were posted on a well-known fugitive’s head, their eventual capture usually accompanied by footage of that very same transport leaving the scene. It was called the Slave I , and was owned by a man who wore a ragged suit of Mandalorian armor, and who made his living by hunting down and - sometimes killing - those who found themselves on the wrong end of a particularly influential creature’s business dealings.

  Rooted to the spot, trembling from excitement, you’d stood on your toes and craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the pilot as they exited the durasteel behemoth. When the boarding ramp had finally extended, however, you’d turned and ran back to your apartment, a wave of anxiety at possibly seeing the owner - and them seeing you - having overcome your senses. And there you’d hid for the rest of the day, pacing the floor of your living quarters and periodically peeking out the window, expecting to see the old Firespray taking off into open space from the vicinity of the dockyards across the city. But as far as you knew, it was still there. You could feel in your guts that it was.

  That was how you’d discovered that Boba Fett had come to Cloud City.

  The deadliest and most effective bounty hunter in the entire galaxy, in your town.

  And you wanted to meet him. You needed to meet him.

  It sounded almost dirty, to acknowledge that maybe you had a bit of a crush on Boba Fett. Although merely calling it a ‘crush’ was quite an understatement. 

  You were infatuated with him. 

  You’d followed his career almost obsessively since your early teenage years, when he’d first erupted onto the bounty hunting scene and began making headlines thanks to the clean, efficient work he’d make of marks who’d been unfortunate enough to cross his path. He was highly dangerous and had a nasty reputation for being a ruthless killer, focused only on bringing pain to the creatures that could earn him as many credits as possible. On top of that, he had exclusive hunting contracts with both the Empire and the Hutts, which didn’t garner much support from communities sympathetic to the Alliance to Restore the Republic, such as your own. Much of the galaxy considered bounty hunters to be the lowest of scum, on the same level as the criminals and other dregs and vestiges of the civilized universe that they were famous for capturing. It was difficult to admit that it wasn’t the gorgeous Falleen who lived down the hall that you fantasized about sweeping off your feet and charming the Corellian hells out of you, but Boba Fett. 

  You couldn’t fully explain it, even to yourself let alone your exasperated and befuddled friends, but there was just something downright sexy about him. You felt weak in the knees whenever you saw his visage broadcast on the holocaster in the café, and your ears always tingled and burned when you caught his name being mentioned in a snatch of overheard conversation. You spent hours scrolling and typing on your holopad, searching for any and all information you could discover on this enigmatic figure who wore the regalia of an ancient warrior race. You’d made it a point to haunt the local nightclubs and bars on your nights off, always seeking out information on Boba Fett’s whereabouts in the galaxy, his latest jobs, encounters that the creatures constantly flowing in and out of the local entertainment establishments may have had with him during their travels. You’d heard how good of a lay - and a generous tipper - he supposedly was from several of the go-go dancers who worked at the Zero-G Club, and the idea of Boba Fett himself getting a lap dance in a seedy topless bar always sent liquid heat pooling to your core. One of your most prized sources of intelligence concerning Boba Fett was Rystáll Sant , the half-Theelian backup singer for the Max Rebo Band, whose frequent sets at the Blue Petal Bar you never missed for this express reason. Lyn Me and Greeata Jendowanian had their own Fett stories, but Sant in particular became very talkative about her famous conquests while touring the galaxy - always after a couple spotchkas, which you were more than happy to share with her.

  Rystáll Sant was adamant that she’d had a casual physical relationship with Fett for years, and that he was, without question, the best fuck of her life. She hadn’t seen, let alone hooked up with him, in several months, no, but the band had a long-term residency at Jabba the Hutt’s palace on Tatooine coming up, and she was looking forward to finally reuniting with him there. He was one of Jabba’s favorite hired guns, after all. You always came away from your conversations with Rystáll feeling flushed and woozy, in a way that had nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol you both consumed while chatting. You’d always been too shy to grill her on any of the specifics of her dalliance with Fett, even though you knew she’d be happy to give them to you - what kind of a lover he was, if he was gentle or rough or a delicious mixture of the two, what he sounded like when he moaned, what he looked like both underneath his Mandalorian helmet and that mysteriously dented codpiece - but those unasked questions haunted you endlessly. You wanted to learn the answers yourself, somehow.

  In short, you were helplessly drawn to Boba Fett, and found everything about him to be intoxicating - from the danger associated with his chosen career, to the mystery of what dashing good looks he had to be hiding behind that black-visored helmet… and the fact that he was experienced. 

  Because you’d never been with a man before.

  Ever.

  You were a virgin in every sense of the word.

  You didn’t consider yourself a prude, or anything close - you just felt you’d never met the right person who you’d want to share that part of yourself with. Your virginity was something sacred in your eyes, something you wanted to give to someone special, not to just waste on a drunken, spiced out tryst after a night partying. Your prospective admirers on Bespin bored you to tears, and you found yourself constantly daydreaming of being whisked away off-world by a masked man in a shining suit of armor; one who would take you on exciting adventures and carry you bridal-style back to his ship afterwards for a romantic, passionate night together.

  You’d never admit it to anyone, knew you’d be laughed out of the social circles you’d managed to cultivate during your years living and working in Cloud City, but Boba Fett’s was the only name that ever came to your lips as you laid in bed, your hands between your legs, bringing yourself to climax twice, sometimes three times during one of your nightly sessions. Just the mere thought of him drove you wild in a way that no other person ever had, and you constantly fantasized about him claiming your innocence for his own, leaving you trembling and mewling underneath him.

  And now, like a bolt out of the blue, he was actually here , located in Cloud City on some unknown business, possibly entangled in whatever Imperial affairs that’d had the entire colony holding its collective breath over the previous days.

  It almost seemed as if it were meant to happen, that you were supposed to seduce and sleep with him, despite your initial panic at his unprecedented arrival. You knew how it sounded. If anyone found out about what you were planning, discovered the details of your deepest fantasy, the one thing you truly wanted above all else, they’d have you admitted to the psychiatric medcenter at Cloud City Central.

  It was true.

  You were saving yourself for Boba Fett.

  You were on a mission to fulfill that adolescent promise to yourself, consequences be damned, and you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #15: Fussing

Prompt: ache | Master Post | On AO3

Pure indulgent projecting. It was a really shitty day.

--

The house was eerily quiet when Aymeric arrived home. Synnove had the day off, and normally on such a day the windows would be thrown open to let in the breeze, an orchestrion merrily playing away while she did chores or prepped dinner and the carbuncles clattered throughout the house and yard.

He opened the door and stepped inside carefully, eyebrows rising a bit at the late afternoon shadows that filled the interior. Faintly, he could hear the orchestrion, but the volume was too low to make it out. He hung his coat on the rack and toed off his boots, then shoved his feet into his house slippers and padded further into the house, in the direction of the den.

The door to the den was cracked, just a hair, and he rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Synnove?” he called quietly.

An absolutely miserable groan was his answer.

Aymeric pushed the door further open and peered inside. Almost immediately, he felt his heart give a pang.

Synnove was stretched out on the couch, chest flat against the seat but her hips twisted so her legs, twisted around a blanket, were sideways in the way that meant she was trying to relieve pressure or pain in her lower back. Her face was wan and her skin pale, and she cracked an eye open to stare at him, bleary and pained. Most telling about her current state, however, was Ivar pressed up against her pelvis and purring furiously, with little Amandina plopped on her head, right on her temple, and doing the same.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said fondly, padding over to her. Once he reached the couch he bent over, reaching behind Synnove to press his knuckles into her lower back while he kissed her forehead. She groaned in relief as he roughly massaged the tense muscles, ruthlessly loosening them.

“Fuck monthlies,” his lady growled.

“Hit you like a rampaging behemoth this time, hmm?” he said, massaging harder. Amandina headbutted his cheek, and he tilted his head to kiss the little carbunclet on the patch of red between her ears.

“Behemoths can be reasoned with,” Synnove muttered. “Was going to make a chocolate-hazelnut cheesecake after lunch to have for dessert tonight, but…”

Aymeric stroked her hair. “Another time,” he said. As much as he adored her cheesecake, he would much rather she rest when her internal organs decided this was the month to wage war. “Where are the other three mischief makers?”

“Down to the market to fetch some things for dinner.”

“I’ll handle that, then. Would you like to keep this orchestrion on, or would you rather I switch it out for you?”

“Could you put one of the comedies on? Doesn’t matter which.”

“Of course, love.” Aymeric kissed her forehead once more, and gave both Amandina and Ivar scritches behind the ear (Amandina peeped happily, Ivar grudgingly mrowled), before he pulled away.

Once the orchestrion roll was changed to one of the comedic performances put on by one of the local theater troupes, he tiptoed out of the den and headed for the kitchen. Once there, he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and set to dinner prep. No doubt what Tyr, Galette, and Roksana returned with would be easy to cook, but that gave him time to set the table and get the side dishes ready. And perhaps dessert.

By the time Tyr trotted through the kitchen door from the garden, Galette on his heels and Roksana in one of the panniers slung over his back, he had rice cooked and strawberries for dessert washed and halved, and was beginning to wilt and sauté spinach.

Hi, Papa! all three carbuncles chorused.

“Hello, children,” Aymeric said, glancing up from the spinach. “What did you find down at the market?”

Tuna steaks! Roksana cheered as she hopped out of the pannier, a package containing fresh sachets of peppermint tea in her mouth. Tyr held while Galette opened the pannier on the opposite side and carefully pulled out a large package of waxed paper.

Aymeric came over to help Tyr step out of the panniers and while Tyr put them away, he accepted the package from Galette, who headbutted him before trotting off to the den. “Well done,” he said warmly. “These can marinate for a few minutes while the spinach finishes cooking.”

Roksana clambered onto his shoulder, loafing happily as she watched him fetch a large bowl and fill it with a mix of soy sauce, sesame oil, and fresh grated ginger. Her nose twitched curiously as he unwrapped the steaks and set them in the bowl. How long will they take to cook? she asked as he moved back to the spinach.

“Not long at all,” Aymeric said, reaching up to rub the top of her head. Roksana purred. “Just a quick sear on either side.”

Once everything was finally ready, and a pot of peppermint tea brewed, he sent Roksana off to fetch her mama while Tyr assisted him with plating everything. Dinner was a quiet affair, with everyone focused on simply eating and keeping Synnove’s tea mug full; Aymeric took the chair next to Synnove tonight, instead of their usual cornerwise position, so he could wrap an arm around her and let her lean against him in between bites of food. Ivar was on Synnove’s other side, his tails draped across her lap and against her stomach.

Dessert was strawberries with clotted cream. Aymeric ate his serving quickly and then stood, kissing Synnove’s kiss cheek as he did. “I’m going to draw you a bath,” he murmured.

His lady huffed tiredly, drooping over her bowl. “You cooked, I’m supposed to clean,” she grumbled.

“And today is the type of day where you are allowed to be a useless lump,” he said fondly.

Aymeric ended up needing to carry Synnove to the washroom, though it meant Ivar could curl up on her and knead her belly during the walk; barely past sunset and she was exhausted from pain, but unfortunately the only pain potions effective on her cramps also left her nauseous. As much as he hated to see her simply grit her teeth and bare it, keeping her hydrated and fed was important. And Ivar, thankfully, didn’t require refilling like a hot water bottle did.

The constant pain was also beginning to make his lady crabby, and so he didn’t linger in the washroom; there was an art to judging when his fussing was too much, and based on her wordless grumbling while he set her down, any further offers of assistance would be taken poorly. Instead, he double checked that she had fresh towels and a change of ratty-but-comfortable clothes for bed, and left Ivar to keep an eye on her while he went to clean up in the kitchen.

Bedtime was thus a little earlier than usual, but not even the twins complained, though they requested an extra chapter from the book he was currently reading to them. Galette tucked in with the girls for the night, ears flicking softly while she chimed a lullaby for her sisters, and Ivar crawled into the banked coals in their room, passing out almost as soon as he curled into a ball.

When Aymeric slipped in his and Synnove’s room, Synnove was face down on the bed, groaning with relief as Tyr kneaded her back. Her spine made the occasional disconcerting crunching sound of popping cartilage—Tyr was clearly taking the opportunity to deal with her absolutely atrocious case of scholar’s back in addition to the lower back pain that struck during her exceptionally bad monthly courses—but the massage and hot bath had finally resulted in the loosening of the tension she had been carrying throughout the day. Aymeric flicked the lights off and joined her on the bed; the trio eventually settled with all three on their sides, Synnove in the middle spooning Tyr and being spooned in turn by Aymeric. Tyr snuggled back against his mama and began that deep, engine-like purr of his that had Synnove going limp in relief.

“Mmmph,” she said, flopping her head down on her pillow. “Thank you both. Love you.”

Love you, Mama. Go sleep.

“I love you, too, Synnove,” said Aymeric, kissing her temple. “I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

“Me, too.”

[jones-friend]

Uncommon Deckbuilding

So you’re bored. Its quarantine times, but you’ve got that deckbuilding itch to scratch, right?

But have you ever built a deck around an UNCOMMON commander before?

Uncommon rarity legends often fly under the radar, allowing consistent support for your deck without taking the whole thing overboard. I’ve amassed a small collection of ten commanders that are absolutely all worth looking into!

Bladewing the Risen looks like a steep cost. And you’re right! The good news is dragons have lots of cost reduction (Dragonspeaker Shaman, Dragonlord Servant) and some specialized ramp (Sarkhan m20, Dragon’s Hoard). Essentially, you use red to discard and black to reanimate. Throw in Conjurer’s Closet and dragons with powerful ETB’s and you have a working deck!

Danitha comes into this bridging of auras and equips Dominaria looked to make. As your commander she supports playing cards cheaper and can be the voltron creature for such a strategy. (1) drop equipment are now free, triggering draws off Sram for free. Her keywords are relevant for these kinds of modifications too, lifelink scaling with increases to damage. She makes an efficient aura, equip, or both commander you can design as you want!

Eutropia was my favorite legendary from Theros. She’s like a simic Jori En, subtly supporting the strat without overruling it. Essentially an Oath of Ancient Wood, you gain counters with each constellation trigger. Mark of Eviction, Attunement, Riptide Chimera, there’s a lot of ways to keep enchantments moving around enough to hit a constellation trigger consistently. The flying keyword also comes in handy getting your giant counters creature through combat!

Grumgully is the gruul counters alternative. Take creatures who are already big and make them worse. Run Renata, Durable Handicraft, Path of Discovery, load counters on just by ETB! Cauldron of Souls keeps stuff from dying. Riot and Unleash tech gets stupid huge with counters, and landfall tech like Evolution Sage and Kazandu Refuge get nuts.

Jalira is a strange monoblue commander, basically a polymorph deck! Where Wurmcoil Engine is something you can both sacrifice and want to dig for. She would facilitate an artifact deck well, and topdeck tech helps sea monsters fly out by sacrificing a Solemn Simulacrum.

Rona is a very solid entry into dimir artificing. Her abilities let you hit artifacts, sagas, and legendaries alike. Rona becomes another piece of the machine for you filtering draws as dimir artifact tech from the Kaladesh block lets you do a slow melt on your opponents.

Shanna is an interesting piece from Dominaria, I still have a foil of her I’ve always wanted to use. She’s like Oviya, going wide and tall, but with white. White has a lot of effects like Crusader of Odric that give you these buffs as well. Any effect that reads “power of a creature” reads “number of creatures”. That means Fungal Sprouting makes a 1/1 saproling for each creature you control. Rishkar draws for each creature. Overwhelming Stampede is a Craterhoof Behemoth.

Syr Faren is on here because I think Forests Matter is an interesting strat. Buff with equips, counters, auras, transfer power around to creatures who should not be that large. Green is rife with trample enablers too, Syr Faren has huge potential to kick down doors.

Tiana is here because like Danitha she bridges two strategies, but allows sacrifice to be more viable. Auras that sacrifice to exile or require sacrifice of a permanent via Theros 2.0 or Shadows over Innistrad keep value by keeping the bone saw coming back. Trading Post can sac for draw or just recur. Its a roundabout build but a fascinating one to build.

Pay for 2 get 1 free!! Whisper is an interesting switch to flip in a colorset that loves to die and loves to come back. Retrigger those ETB’s! Whisper can work at instant speed too so you can wait till the last possible second. Abhorrent Overlord, Chittering Witch, Sengir Autocrat, its not hard to churn out sac fodder and recur after some self mill!

Some of these I’ve built proper, some I still want to. Take a look, peruse! See what catches your eye! If you make a list I’d love to see it.

[siribear]

an alarm blares too loud, too early in the morning. deacon reaches forward, hand closing around the source as he fumbles for the switch to turn it off. he manages to find the button, eventually, but not before the noise wakes his sleeping companion.

whisper grumbles, the noise vibrating against his chest. and, hey, he’s been in this situation before - too many bodies in the catacombs, not enough beds. first come, first serve. those unlucky enough to tuck in late end up sharing a mattress with a fellow agent. but then whisper sighs and presses closer against him and he thinks, despite the cold basement and life-threatening rad levels above them, this isn’t so bad.

better than waking up because glory’s kicked him in the shins for the tenth time, for sure.

he draws his arm back. no response. maybe she’s gone back to sleep. five is too early to wake up, anyway, even underground in the glowing sea. deacon figures he’s safe to drift back to sleep, until: ‘we have to get moving eventually.’

psh. doesn’t even sound like she’s got her eyes open, yet. he presses his forehead against her shoulder blades, rebelliously. ‘you first.’

she sighs, but it’s too soon to think he’s won. ‘about last night...’

‘hmm?’

‘that was all true, wasn’t it?’ he hums an affirmative between her shoulders. ‘does the ache ever go away?’

his stomach drops. killing the claws didn’t help. neither did killing kellogg, for her. yet here she is, piecing their commonwealth back together, even as she’s mourning. deacon rolls onto his back to stare up at the black ceiling. whisper slowly sits up next to him. the light from her pipboy illuminates the wires and aging ceiling tiles above him.

‘it will for you.’

‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

it’s his turn to sigh. feels like he’s reopening all the wounds he managed to duct tape closed. ‘you deserve to be happy. the pain will settle until it’s manageable.’

‘and you think you still have to atone for something, so you can’t be happy.’ the pipboy casts a shadow across her brow, furrowed. ‘for what you did to those people when you were younger? you’ve paid for it. with all your work in the railroad, you’re continuing to pay for it. but you’re never going to break even because the world doesn’t work like that.’

he told her he wasn’t the hugging type, but he fails spectacularly when it comes to her. deacon reaches for her hand, and she meets him halfway. more than halfway - she actually pulls him into a hug, and he melts into it. tucks his head into the crook of her neck. ‘am i the only one you’ve told about this?’ she asks as he clings to her like a lifeline.

‘you’re the only one that knows the whole truth of it.’ the truth about him. who he really is. what he did.

he feels her sigh more than hears it. ‘thank you,’ she says. ‘for trusting me with this. i - ‘ her shoulders tense, but when he looks up at her face, it’s not from any sense of awkwardness. whisper’s gaze isn’t even.. here.

he pulls away, slowly. reluctantly. ‘hey - ‘

‘sorry.’ she’s back, smiling, if weakly.

his stomach twists at the sight. if this were some trashy, pre-war romance novel, he’d kiss the look off her face - make her smile for real. maybe some ravishing in between. that’s - that’s absolutely a friendly thing to think, right? it has been a while since he had one.

... right.

instead, he takes a deep breath, ready to reassure her, somehow. but she interrupts him, probably sensing the placating bullshit about to come out of his mouth.

‘now that you’re up,’ she tilts her head, eyes softer now, ‘we should get moving.’

he suppresses a shudder at a nail lightly tracing the back of his neck. ‘using my vulnerable state to make me wake up, huh? here i thought you were better than that.’

she chuckles. ‘maybe i’m not who you think i am.’ it’s his turn to tense, but she lets it go with another sigh. ‘i’m kidding. but i am hungry, so let’s eat and get out of here.’

deacon hopes his quick bark of laughter isn’t as high pitched as it sounds in his head. ‘right. can’t get eaten by deathclaws on an empty stomach.’

whisper winks and digs out their breakfast rations, and as she hands him his own portion, he realizes: as much as she’s done for all of them, they hardly know her at all.

-

a working elevator saves them from the basement, taking them all the way back up to the roof. whisper removes the fusion core at the top. the lights in the building slowly dim and shut off in turn, and the loud, centuries old generator eventually goes silent.

deacon leads the way south, to a settlement established in the crater left behind by the first bomb. ‘you’re kidding me,’ she says when he tells her about it. the children of atom. a cult worshiping the bombs that brought about the end.

‘didn’t have them where you’re from?’

‘small town,’ she explains. ‘heard some rumors from caravans, but you never think stuff like that is real, you know?’ it hardly makes sense. to find comfort in something like that...

but it’s a place to check for their scientist. civilization, however crazy. people to hide him. it’s why she keeps her voice even as a woman stops her near the center of the crater and calls the place a holy ground.

‘how is this a holy ground?’

dark blue eyes look to the sky as the woman extends a hand. ‘atom reached out and touched this world,’ she brings her hand down, ‘and brought his glow to us. here, was the start. his first act in the commonwealth.’ whisper’s geiger counter clicks slowly, counting away, and yet the woman in front of her looks unmarred by the radiation. the woman’s ragged clothing blows in the wind, but she’s still - not a ghoul.

whisper cuts right to the point, unnerved. ‘i’m looking for a man named virgil.’

the woman’s voice is clear. ‘we know him. what do you want with him?’

‘i just need information. that’s all. i don’t want to hurt him.’

‘in truth, virgil has caused some... concern.’ she looks to her fellow followers. ‘some believe his presence is an affront to atom.’

whisper frowns. ‘is it because he’s from the institute?’

the woman’s eyes widen. ‘the institute? no. that isn’t it. but, thankfully, he only travels up here to trade, on occasion. otherwise, we have little contact with him.’

‘so, he isn’t here, then.’ whisper checked. they’re at the edge of her satellite map, now. if they go further, there’ll be no way to track where they are.

‘he lives in a cave, southwest of here. beware, if you do not know who you are hunting. i suspect he isn’t fond of visitors.’

southwest. off the map. she looks to deacon, who shrugs. ‘we’ve come this far. besides, if we get lost, we just look for the lovely green glow. of atom,’ he adds.

‘thank you, ma’am,’ whisper tells the woman, a little stiffly. it feels strange to talk to someone so reverent about the thing that changed her entire life - changed the entire world. but she’s been unconditionally helpful.

it’s refreshing.

and then it’s whisper’s turn to lead, pipboy map held in front of her to ensure they’re heading southwest. only a few minutes after they climb over the edge of the crater, her map goes blank. a message flashes on the screen: NO DATA. even the radio tab is empty.

‘officially in the middle of nowhere.’ and she thought that roadtrip she and nate took before shaun was born was bad. too bad she forgot to bring her paper map, this time.

‘edge of nowhere,’ deacon corrects. ‘we still have to find that cave.’

-

trying to keep to a straight line is difficult when the terrain is jagged and mountainous. anything to keep their way back as simple as possible - go through obstacles, not around. which means over the river and through the woods, to virgil’s cave they go.

whisper lived in the city. even her long treks across the commonwealth, following broken roads and dirt trails, couldn’t have prepared her for this. by the time they reach the cave, it feels like she’s carrying the power armor instead of the other way around. deacon drops to his stomach for an angle, much less quiet and gracefully than he should, considering there’s a sleeping deathclaw just outside the entrance.

‘think it’s his pet? can the institute tame deathclaws?’

whisper slowly lowers herself to one knee. ‘definitely need to change our game plan, if so. maybe tom can come up with something to tame one of those scorpions.’

‘i was thinking supermutant behemoths. like swan. take that, institute. ready?’

‘when you are.’

between their height advantage and firepower, the deathclaw is easily dispatched. the heated barrel of her minigun glows red against the wash of yellow-green in the glowing sea. no one comes charging out immediately, come to see what the noise was, but there’s no way virgil didn’t hear the commotion, if he’s still here.

the thought makes her skip a step, power armor drawing a rut in the ground. he has to still be here. whisper doesn’t know what she’ll do if he isn’t.

‘alright there, partner?’

‘of course.’ she has to be.

deacon carefully removes a string of tin cans hanging from a hook in the ceiling. a scrap turret rattles next to her, barrel pointed near her ribs as she keeps between it and deacon. a soft light casts a shadow of a second string of cans against the opposite wall. a light at the end of the tunnel. whisper draws deliverer but holds it loose at her side.

‘i’m right behind you,’ she hears before she steps into the room.

half-put together machinery and experiments are scattered across the floor. cans of food, open and empty, are stacked on a far table. next to it, an active terminal on top of a blown out stove. a stack of tires blocks her view of a lower section, but it’s from there that she hears rustling, heavy footsteps round the single stone pillar in the middle of the room, and she has to look up at the source.

a supermutant. wearing glasses, a scarf, and the tatters of once-white jumper. instinctively, whisper takes a step back. ‘i’m not going back with you alive,’ it says simply, enunciated through its low growl of a voice.

‘whisper, the super mutant just talked. and i mean, it said more than grr, die!’

‘i can see that, deacon, thank you,’ she says, picking her jaw up off the floor. she clears her throat. ‘go back - ? i just want to ask some questions.’

‘questions,’ it repeats.

‘uh, yes. please. are you - are you virgil?’

the supermutant takes a step forward. ‘you would know. you’re the one hunting me. i’m just surprised they didn’t send kellogg.’

‘kellogg’s dead. i killed him.’

he huffs. ‘impressive, if true. kellogg’s been the institute’s attack dog for a long time. are you his replacement?’

‘i’m - ‘ she sighs. this has to be virgil. the reticence to answer any questions - makes sense if he suspects she’s here to kill him. or bring him back, as he says. ‘my name is alice. i need to get into the institute, and it seems you’re my only hope in that regard. i came here for your help.’

‘why?’

‘the institute has my son. i want him back. it’s that simple.’

he takes another step closer, and this time whisper holds her ground. leaning forward, he looks her dead in the eye, as if she isn’t wearing a helmet at all. finally, he leans back with a sigh of his own. ‘brian virgil. i’m.. sorry, about your son. i know the institute used to take people from the commonwealth.’

‘still at it. the old take and replace,’ deacon adds.

‘i see.’ virgil’s silent a moment, considering. ‘i can help you, but i want something in return.’

whisper jumps at it, doesn’t care where she lands. ‘name it.’

‘i was working on a serum. a cure for my,’ he gestures vaguely at himself, ‘condition. i wasn’t able to bring it with me when i escaped. you go into the institute and bring me that serum. that’ll be payment for helping you.’

‘serum. there’s a cure for the super mutant... condition?’ she asks.

‘for this strand of the FEV, yes. the institute was... responsible for the super mutant presence in the commonwealth. but the lab was shut down a long time ago.’

‘jesus,’ deacon hisses.

‘okay.’ too many things at once. ‘okay. i’ll get it, easy enough, right? now how do i get there?’

he holds up a hand. ‘first thing’s first. do you know how synths get in and out of the institute?’

‘teleportation. i saw it in kellogg’s memories. long story,’ she clarifies.

‘all right. yes, teleportation. it’s referred to as the molecular relay.’ virgil explains further, the science of it. taking people apart, atom by atom, and piecing them back together somewhere else. it sounds dangerous. unrealistic. but virgil insists it’s the only way into the institute. and in order to connect directly to that relay?

they’re going to have to kill a courser.

[daxieoclock]

Dndjdjfn since I did one for Sammy, how about a top 5 favorite Sakio quotes / moments so far?

Heck yeah!!!! ty for the ask djhbfghj

I can’t rank them specifically sooo here are some of my favs in chronological order:

And Miss Sakio, dean of humanities, splutters out "what the absolute fuck!?"

"Miss Sakio," she corrects. "We are not on first name basis, Fischer."

"I trust you to keep yourself safe, Blake. And I trust your friends to protect each other, and you." And Sakio starts to walk down the corridor, back towards her office. "So trust me to pick up the slack."

She's going to lunge forward, catching one of the Pyro Junks with the tip of her rapier, and then slashing it cleanly. The lantern goes out, and the Junk falls, and she wipes some rust off her sword. "I know."

The Rubblerouser is still staring at you, and it is going to raise the rebar above its head. Its hand is going to be blasted off by a bolt of light. And it turns to stare at Sakio with blank concrete eyes, as she lowers her fingers from her brand. "Kindly step away from my fucking student," she says, her voice low and furious.

Sakio is going to take a single step back, sweep the cape of her costume out in front of her, and then dart to the left and pierce the Rubbelrouser through the chest. "As I mentioned before," she says, extracting the blade from its chest as the concrete crumbles away, sloughing off and melting into black dust, "I know what I'm doing."

Sakio lays the flower pin gently next to Camellia's offering, and bows their head. "Thank you," she says, maybe to them or maybe to Frey. "I know you and I haven't met, but I'd like to extend my gratitude. Whoever you are, or were, you mean a lot to my student. I hope you may rest well."

"Miss Tarr," Sakio says, quiet but firm, "I have not told you everything. You have also not told me everything; none of you have, nor should you. I have not proven myself worthy of that trust, nor have you all proven the same to me yet. As Camellia said, we're new." She takes a long, deep breath. "But I have not, nor will I ever, lie to you."

"I say the following not as your teacher, or supervisor, but as a woman in your life with concern for your well being. Find an outlet for those feelings you've been bottling up. Preferably, one that doesn't involve spitting vitriol towards your teammates."

"I hope you feel better now, saying all that," she says, and there's an odd strain to her voice. "I'll see you after lunch."

“Amil never was the best at letting go of good things, even after they're no longer quite so good."

"You have a beautiful heart, Lena. I wish the world could see that. Know, if you can, that I see it. And I will try my hardest to do by good by that, and by you."

"I know sometimes, when you're already so full of hurt, that it doesn't take much to break the dam."

"Sing them to their graves!"

"Miss Tar, embrace your strength!"

"Blake..." Sakio is tense, and slips into a ready stance, staring down the slumbering foes. "Just in case, if you manage to make it to the other side and those Shadows wake up? Run. Take the group and book it. I'll draw their attention and retreat farther down the tower. We can reunite once things have calmed down.”

“Behemoth. I don’t know your name; I don’t much care. It’s our job to cut you down, I can’t blame you for defending yourself.” Her voice calm, but dripping in frigidity. “But allow me to make one thing clear.” She stabs the tip of her rapier into the metal, and places her palm against her brand; she’s only ever touched it with her fingertips before. “Never underestimate my students.”

Sakio is going to take a few steps forward. Placing the tip of her rapier against the Behemoth’s head. “I hope you learned something today,” she says, quietly. “There will not be a repeat lesson.” Chorus descends from on high, circling like a masked halo. They raise their arms up, and a radiance illuminates the space between them. “Goodbye.” 
And she casts Kougaon.

[furinana]

Megaten Furbait compilation

A list of myth characters that were depicted as animals or animals with anthropomorphic features in the Megami Tensei series that have some level of appeal to furries.

Birds, reptiles and other species included.

Now let’s start!

Garuda

Kaneko designed very, very few humanoid birds (even less featuring actual beaks) so Garuda is a big win to me. I love his playful pose from the first artwork combined with the big thigh exposition.

Anzu

The curly beard and the shining brown skin really give him an extra attractiveness.

Kabuso

I fell in love with this little fellow at first sight. The way he just looks down and has a “tch!” expression like he’s mocking you.

Anubis

I don’t pay much attention to Anubis since he’s depicted in essentially the same way in a lot of other media. His slender and sophisticated figure is still mesmerizing to stare regardless.

Quetzalcoatl

I tend to prefer his human form but Quetz’s dragon form isn’t half-bad. His pissed face like he’s mad at you for eating the last piece of ham from the fridge.

Baphomet

This goat has his horn on fire and has something sticking out of his crotch! He’s up to no good! Now that I think about it, the sword and the shield must symbolize his hermaphroditism.

Behemoth

He looks at you the same way a pregnant mother would do to her lover.

Gagyson

I’m not fond of demons with a lot of random features all over them. I forgive Gagyson because he’s bird-like and is cackling maniacally.

Neko Shogun

Is he a demon or a toy? SO FRIGGIN’ CUTE! I LOVE YOU, DAMNIT!

Hanuman

A dignified old man doing yoga. Check out the little golden monkey in his armor.

Heqet

This froggie looks so happy to see you! She’s like a character that came straight from Animal Crossing.

Dormath

Not very furry-like but at least she’s worth more than Nekomata. She looks comfy to hug. Be careful or she’ll hit you with a Macca Beam though.

Ose

There it is... the most insane furbait of the list. This fucker tricks you into thinking he’s covering himself but as soon as you look at him from behind you find out he’s been walking around with his ass completely bare. It’s like he’s tainting you to look at it. Don’t even get me started at his Hallel form.

Chironnupu

BABY YOU’RE SO CUTE!!! His tongue imitating perfectly the way a dog pants cheerfully when its owner is close!!!

Hecate

A personal favorite. As soon as you summon her, she gets ready to push you onto the bed and peg your ass.

Shesha

Shesha’s battles aren’t something exciting to remember about but I truly do like his enormous snake body. Too bad you couldn’t summon him in this state.

Fomorian

If you are into hunks, Fomorian is just your dude. Remind him not to skip leg day though.

Amon

This guy definitely fucks. Beware of his ridiculously long arms.

Ganesha

I wanna touch his fat nipples and his bellybutton.

Basilisk

Such a jolly little creature! It’s like a Pokémon! 

Jambavan

He seems way less scary once you realize he’s a bear.

Gryphon

I wanna pull his big tail and see him screaming agonishingly. Apparently his meat is quite tasty.

Azumi

Azumi might be JUST YOUR THING if you liked The Shape of Water. I wonder if her mouth is too rough to kiss.

Pazuzu

There’s something that awakens in me when I stare at his happy trail.

Kuda, Inugami and Makami

L     O    N    G

O

N

G

BOIS

Wu Kong

I like his personality in the games a lot. A troublesome kid that speaks brashly.

Girimehkala

I wanna touch his fat nipples and bel-oh wait, I already said this to Ganesha.

Cait Sith

Look at his stupidass huge boots. I love this guy.

Nalagiri

I’m not enthusiastic about elephants in general but Kaneko sure draws them in a way that makes me captivated. I like how this one feels gritty and muscular contrasting the chubby ones.

Suparna

The pre-evolution of Garuda. Very majestic. I love the extension thingies from his crown.

Mushussu

The little snark with his tongue while looking at the viewer. It’s the little details that count.

Mezuki

I hate horses. I truly truly hate horses. I’m fond of this one for some reason however. Maybe it’s the fanged teeth? Or the cute braids?

Tao Tie

You don’t wanna get on this fluffy fella’s bad side.

Kobold

I like how this Kobold has quite some feminine figure. Small hips and big boobs.

Illuyanka

A body of water shaped into a masked dragon. Kaneko really nailed on the execution of this one.

Orias

I truly don’t care about Orias but his old artwork is funny. He’s tied to his horse as if both were a present.

Hachidaiou

A rare one! And it’s a turtle! Does his shell only cover his back?

Seth

Despite his major villain profile in the lore, his personality in the negotiations sums up as “big moe beast that loves lettuce”.

Mithra

"Bro” “What is it, bro” “I tied myself all over you bro” “B-bro...”

Chi You

I know it’s just his spear but the shadow makes it seems he’s wearing high heels.

Tangata Manu

Tangata Manu is so cartoonishly weird to the point it’s adorable. Look how shitty his wings are. Poor guy. 

Senri

Furry milfs stretching? Furry milfs stretching, anyone?

Makara

Makara in Dx2 is friggin adorable. I often forget it’s supposed to be from the Dragon race because of its little Bambi head.

Heavenly Generals

Kaneko the absolute madman designed the twelve chinese zodiac animals as boss enemies. THEY ALL HAVE THE SAME HAIRSTYLE.

Kikimora

I love chickens but she doesn’t resemble one enough to be endearing on this aspect to me. I like the ‘creepy creature in domestic clothes’ image though. She even helps you with housework if she feels you’re hard-working enough!

Vasuki

This one knows he’s a bastard and is fully delighted with it.

Hresvelgr

His cute expression sure makes bird lovers like myself fall to our knees.

Cerberus

Everyone’s favorite doggie! Regardless of how generic Cerberus ends up becoming in later games, his role as Nakajima’s loyal partner or our lovely Pascal the dog makes me quite fond of him.

Kamapua’a

A pig with a cape! A PIG WITH A CAPE!

Fafnir

I keep thinking of that mission in Strange Journey where you had to casually ask Fafnir for a piece of his body. Since he’s all made of metal, I guess letting someone else borrow your leg wouldn’t hurt you.

Samael

I never got to properly use one yet in the games but I'm super fond of his design. The color palette is one of my favorites.

Yatagarasu

no talk with me im angy

[not-so-secret-nerd]

Haunt

(A little Halloween horror fun for you all. One of my few published short stories. And yes, if this seems familiar to some of you there’s a reason for that.)

***

The room at the end of the long hall sits abandoned like the rest of the mansion. In another time, it might have been a study or a library. Now it’s a hovel, a cavernous corpse. Its majestic, arching windows have long been torn out of their panes like eyes plucked from a dead man’s skull. Tattered curtains, bleached of color, wave forlornly in the gentle breeze, shredded lungs sighing in their afterlife.

A haunting melody pierces the blue-black gloom, snaking down corridors, slithering melancholic into her ears. Liz can’t help feel her pulse quicken. There’s something perverse about the choice of piano chords. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention, goosebumps rolling down her exposed arms. Hesitantly, she follows the music to its source, tugged along by a Pied Piper she has no wish to confront.

Working security with her partner was going to be fun, Nat had said. The Albright Mansion was usually a quiet job. Only the occasional vandal or squatter to run off. Most shifts could be spent in the guard shack catching up on missed Netflix episodes, yet here she was, creeping through the dark, looking for something she’s absolutely sure she doesn’t want to find.

Liz takes in the room with a nervous glance from the doorway. The music continues, strongest here, filling night’s void with its chilling sonnet. She swallows hard and readjusts her grip on her nightstick, vaguely comforted by the weapon’s sturdy weight in her hands.

With calculated steps, she enters the room, scanning her surroundings for any viable threats. There aren’t any—not discounting the uneven floor and rotting wood flexing under her weight. The room, for the most part, is devoid of life save for the figure in the corner.

Not for the first time, Liz feels the uneasy drop of her stomach turn into an icy vortex circulating within her core.

Silhouetted against one of the farthest, glassless windows, Liz’s partner Nat sits in front of an antique piano. The instrument’s dark shape swallows the weak moonlight, making it a shadow among shadows. The floor beneath the behemoth sags dangerously in places where the boards lack the strength to bear its weight. It’s a wonder the whole thing hasn’t smashed through and taken out the floors below.

Venturing further, Liz feels her blood chill in her veins. In all the years she’d known Nat the woman had never once shown any musical inclinations. A few strummed chords on a guitar, maybe, but here she sat, posture perfect, fingers moving in a steady, deliberate rhythm, waking a haunting melody from an instrument that shouldn’t possess a voice to sing. Her face, veiled by the shroud of her dark hair, remains hidden from view as she plays, ensuring the only glimpses of living flesh come from the pale stretch of her fingers. The melody becomes emboldened, picking up speed and complexity, pushing the maestro faster until she bends into the song.

“Nat?” The name is squeezed out as barely a breath across Liz’s teeth.

Her regret is immediate. She shouldn’t have spoken. She should have backed out and gotten the hell out of that house and found help…or a priest.

The music doesn’t stop, but the hands coaxing the notes into existence do. Slowly, Nat leans back on her bench, hands folded demurely in her lap, ancient wood groaning under her slight weight. She doesn’t turn. Instead, her eyes watch the dancing keys continue to play out their drama for a moment more before standing with prolonged deliberance that almost borders on menacing. She’s a shadow uncurling, becoming tall and lean against the glow of the windows. When Nat finally turns—Liz believes she can hear the fibers and joints in the other woman’s neck creaking with the motion—a rush crackles down her spine, turning her knees to jelly.

White eyes pierced with a single black pupil stare at her from across the room. They’re bright enough to illuminate Nat’s stoic face and cold enough even Medusa would have found herself petrified. Liz certainly can’t move. Can’t even tell if she’s breathing. Can’t focus on anything but those hateful white orbs boring into her skull, staring her down like a shark on the opposite side of a steel cage. Only there isn’t a cage around Liz. No protection from the predator making her approach, footfalls ghostly quiet. Attack is imminent. Liz knows this. Nothing looks at you like that and doesn’t lunge for the jugular.

Fifteen feet away.

Nat draws close enough Liz can taste something foul in the air: irony, electric, and rotten.

Ten feet.

The music swells, spurred on by the terror circulating in the shorter woman. Liz tightens her grip on her nightstick, knuckles turning into whitecaps. Would she use it? Could she use it? Spots erupt in her peripheral vision, brought on by hyperventilation.

Five feet.

Nat lifts her hand, never breaking eye contact with Liz. This is it. Liz feels her heart shoot into her neck, pounding away in her throat like a jackhammer. She braces for whatever comes next, the functioning part of her brain not seized by terror wondering if she’ll see the sunrise again.

An antique coin dances into view across Nat’s knuckles, waved into existence like she’s performing a sleight of hand. The gesture is fluid, almost graceful, catching Liz off guard. The coin possesses a strange aura, suffusing the short distance between the two women in eerie shades of blue and black. Liz can’t decide which to look at: the object or the horror which has become her partner. She settles on Nat out of self-preserving necessity.

“A gift from the house.”

It’s all the explanation Nat gives, and her voice sends shivers racing through Liz. It’s like hearing two women talking at once. Harmonic. Unnatural. Properly terrifying.

Palming the glowing coin, Nat brushes past her companion, following Liz with her gaze until finally breaking away at the door. Framed in the archway, Nat lifts her hand once more as if to wave goodbye and snaps her fingers. The sudden bang of the fallboard slamming down over the keys makes Liz jump and spin. The music stops, silenced under a guillotine. She feels its absence like she’s lost the sense to hear altogether.

“I think I'm going to start liking these shifts. Especially now that I have company,” Nat says, a smile evident in her tone. When she glances back at Liz, the smaller woman catches a glimpse of electric blue energy glowing from behind Nat's grin, peeking out from between the seams of her teeth. “Do be gentle with the new arrival. They’re always so fragile in the beginning.”

The sudden pressure of something large alighting on Liz’s shoulder sucks the air from her lungs. Blunted digits dig possessively into her collarbone. She doesn’t want to look. Wills herself not to with quivering determination. Keeps her eyes glued on the doorway and her partner’s blue smile.

Behind her, a gravely exhale washes against the nape of Liz’s neck, snapping the security guard out of her petrification, but she’s a half-second too late. Whatever pleading cry or shout of alarm she might have pushed from her lungs is silenced by a second hand closing around her throat and dragging her forcibly backward. The last thing Liz hears is the clatter of her nightstick hitting the floor and the strike of a single piano key before the shadows open wide and swallow her whole.

[sun-and-shadow-aloy]

Favorite Passage

I have done this one once and went with a passage from a Dragon Age story, so @pikapeppa hit me again ;)

This time I am going to share one of my favorite passages from Seeker of the Nora. It was insanely hard to choose just one but this passage shows how deeply two of the men she loves care for her and she for them. (Also, maybe a bit of a nod to Pika, since she was the one that tagged me ;) )

“So, you’re here. Really here. You risked your life.”

Sylens glared at her for a moment. “Of course, I did. If you’d have been killed, the Nora’s Sacred Mountain would have never given up its secrets.”

This man’s cruelty knew no bounds. He had saved her only so he could continue using her. Here she was thinking that maybe he was actually beginning to care what happened to her, but no. She was simply a prize, a weapon, a tool.

“Too bad you wasted your time. Helis destroyed my Focus and the Alpha Registry with it.” She was tempted to turn her Strider away and continue on to the Sacred Lands without his aid. She knew if she ever saw the man face to face, she’d want nothing more than to punch him.

Sylens laughed then, a small one, but enough to turn Aloy’s attention back to him. “Not at all. The whole time I’ve been monitoring your Focus, I’ve duplicated every data file you’ve scanned. Installing that data to a new Focus was trivially easy. ‘Happy birthday, Isaac. Daddy sure does love his little big man.’ He tossed a new Focus to her and she nearly dropped it in her shock.

She hadn’t heard those words in so long. It used to be her favorite find. Amongst all of the data her Focus had collected, it was the first and the one she watched when she wished for a family of her own. Of course, Sylens must have known this. There were little collection ticks anytime a file was opened. It always showed her, her most viewed files first. Among them were favorite pictures of beautiful landscapes, photos of Avad, Erend, and Nil. Audio and video recordings of times long since past and even one of Rost fishing. That was the first time she’d realized she could capture a video log. He’d had no idea what she was doing, so he sat there and took in the gentle breeze and the cool crisp air. It was him in his element.

“You’re really good at making it impossible to like you. But I guess I need this.” She wouldn’t let him know what some of those images meant to her. She placed the device on her ear and felt a calm settle over her as if she had reattached a piece of herself that had been missing for far too long.

Sylens smiled then. “It’s time to see where you were born. Maybe even learn why.”

Aloy’s frustrations with the man piqued again. “Yeah. Meet the machine that birthed me into this world. Isn’t that how you put it?”

He shut down then, turning his strider away from her. “I’ll be off.”

“Wait,” Aloy said suddenly. Not even sure why she was unwilling to let him wander away.

He turned back to her then. “Yes.”

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask him. Many thoughts and questions ran through her mind. She was about to ask but then their attention was drawn to the not so far off distance. A cloud of dust rose, signaling an oncoming horde. Aloy froze. Sylens watched in silence. Both of them seemed wary of whoever was coming.

“Shadow Carja,” she asked.

“Not likely. Coming from the wrong direction.”

This eased a bit of her nerves and she pressed on. “Helis recognized you back in the Sun-Ring. You told me that you’d assisted the Eclipse. Not that you knew the men who killed my… who almost killed me.” She had almost said her father, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being able to correct her again. Rost wasn’t her biological father and he knew that. It would be one more thing he could throw in her face.

“So, now you know. The man is a serious threat. So let’s do all we can to make sure he and Hades do not succeed.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to say. Maybe some form of argument or some admission of guilt, but as always she got nothing. She sighed, “Right.”

She knew she would get no further answers from him and the dust cloud was drawing ever closer, making Sylens antsy. It was apparent that he did not want to be seen, even if they had just surmised that these people weren’t likely Shadow Carja.

“I’ll be on my way. To make matters worse, Helis ordered an Eclipse detachment to attack the Nora Sacred Land. The tribe’s already weak. They won’t stand a chance. You should come with me.” She knew a fighter lay under his intellectual façade. He wouldn’t have gotten this far if he weren’t.

He huffed. “Absolutely not. I have preparations to make elsewhere. Besides, it looks like you may have more help than you thought.” He gestured to the crowd of men that still drew closer to their position.

Her eyes still weren’t at their best and she tried to squint through the blazing sunlight to see what Sylens meant, but she couldn’t make out what he was trying to tell her.

Before setting his heels into his Strider he handed over one last gift, Shadow Carja armor. He said it would help her should she need to return to Sunfall or Shadow Carja territory. And then he apologized for being needlessly cruel about who or what her mother may be, telling her he did hope it was a who, not a what. That lifted her spirits somewhat, but not as much as the next thing she caught sight of.

Avad’s banner, along with the banner of the Vanguard swung proudly in the hands of the men coming toward her. And at the head of these men, two figures sprinted toward her. One was bulky and in heavy armor. He couldn’t quite keep up with the man ahead of him but he pushed just as hard.

Aloy jumped from her seat on the Strider. Tears sprang to her eyes as the sun’s gleam caught on the white of the Carja armor, made the red feathers glisten. She never thought she would be so happy to see that stupid headdress. He was alive! And he had brought the whole of the Vanguard with him, Erend included.

She raced forward. The tears made her swollen eyes ache but she didn’t care. She needed to touch him, to make sure the Sun wasn’t playing tricks on her. She needed to hold him, to kiss those thick lips and to know he was real. After her battle with the Behemoth, her legs ached, but she pushed through. She would make it to him, even if she collapsed into his arms.

As they closed the distance to each other, Aloy was rewarded with one thing she thought she’d never see. Nil was smiling. A genuine ear-to-ear smile. The last few days must have been just as hard on him as they were on her. To see emotions from him in any capacity was more than she had anticipated and made fresh tears bubble to the surface.

When she was close enough she leapt into his arms. She didn’t know she had the strength left, but somehow she made it and neither of them could help the laughs that sprang from them as they collided. Nil swung her around and buried his face in her neck as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you, Aloy. I love you.” He kept repeating the words like a mantra.

Aloy began to believe she would never stop crying. Her heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time, but they continued to spill down her face. With each new revelation the moment brought, it was like a wall was broken letting the rains pour and wash away all of the hurt and pain of the last few months. Hell, the last few days. Neither one of them had been certain that the other had survived. She knew he had made it out of the room before Helis’ bomb went off, but nothing past that. He must have thought the same when he heard the explosion behind him.

When he put her down, she pulled him into a deep kiss. Her heart exploded. She couldn’t contain how she felt about him any more than he could. “I love you, too. Everything about you.”

The moment was broken, but in no way ruined by the sound of someone else coming up behind them. She turned to the sound and opened her arms. Erend pulled her into a tight hug and the tears started anew.

“Fire and spit, Aloy. You have got to stop doing this to me. This is the second time I thought you may be dead.”

He squeezed her so tight that his armor started to hurt but she didn’t care. He was here. She had her rock to see her through this next phase. She had the Vanguard at her back. She had Nil. She might be able to give the Eclipse a real fight.

I believe I have tagged everyone already, so if you are reading this and haven't been tagged yet... consider yourself tagged.

[bouncyirwin]

Recent Great Naruto Fics I’ve Read List

Seeing as the actual series now suck... here’s a list of the fics/one shots I’ve recently read (past year) that you might enjoy, have fun xx

Warning: List contains all kinds of pairings. Some stories have no pairings at all (those are labelled as General). 

Directions: story name - author - summary - status - pairing/gen - rating

Pulling My Weight by Invisible Shadow - During the mission to Wave, Sakura realises that she has to become a better ninja for her teammates' sake and be someone they can depend on. She vows to take her training seriously, and receives help from the most unlikely of sources; Genma Shiranui. The two form an unlikely bond and stick together through thick and thin, while Sakura improves and meets other people along the way. Ongoing | General so far | T | This story is fucking amazing

A Wrinkle in Time by rightforlife - The Fourth Shinobi War ended in disaster. They won, but at a price too great to bear. Given a second chance, what exactly can Konoha's three most powerful men do? Time travel, old enemies, and old friends that all leads to a new future. Ongoing | General | T

The Colder Water by Quillslinger - The devil is in the details. Shisui. Itachi. A sorta love story. Novella. Complete (52,784) | ShiIta | T 

Uneasy Coexistence by DeGlace - One grinning shark–man. One pink–haired medic. Ankles. Teeth. Kisame x Sakura. Yes, you read that right. Complete (70,111) | KisaSaku | M

Blind Stars of Fortune by 100demons - Thirty year old Kakashi was supposed to have been killed by Pein during the Invasion. Instead, he wakes up in the body of his twenty year old self. (It gets a lot more complicated.) Time travel. Complete (78,591) | General | T

To Promise Forever by Hellsig Otoupeim - The war's over, Kaguya has been defeated and the five great Shinobi Nations have gone back to their homelands to nurse the wounds left behind. In an attempt to preserve peace, the five Kage have agreed to implement in a new measure; war veterans between villages are encouraged to take part in the Five Nation Letter Exchange Program. Or how a girl from Kiri ends up in Konoha. Sly AU. Complete (14,442) | ShikakuOC | M

Heart Under a Blade by fineillsignup - Sitting on a bench after being told by Sasuke-kun that she's annoying, Sakura thinks that it's the worst day of her life. Lying in the hospital wanting to hurl from heat suppressants later that day and grappling with the revelation that she's an omega, Sakura knows that it's the worst day of her life. (ABO, extremely slow build). Ongoing | KakaSaku | M

Phantom Pains by mapplepie - There is something going on with Kakashi, but Minato can't figure out what. All he has are distressing deductions, each one progressively worse than the last. It's no wonder Minato can't help but fear and fear and fear. (To be fair though, it really wasn't his fault he never considered the possibility of time-travel). Complete (22,153) | General | T

A Twist in Time by Wolf08 - With Konoha on the verge of destruction, Sakura is sent on a last-resort mission to save her world by travelling to the past. Join her in coping with her old body's shortcomings, testing the natural laws of time, falling in love all over again, exploring the depths of her mind and rediscovering who she is. Time-travel.  Ongoing | SasuSaku | T | I don’t even like SS anymore (I almost hate them) but this is my favourite fic ever.

Deadly Decisions by Alrissa - Haruno Sakura that actually caught a glimpse of the real world and woke up to smell the blood. Basically a 'what if' preview of what could have happened if Sakura didn't revert after the Chuunin exams. No princess to be rescued here. Complete (17,819) | General | M

Contagious by rabid behemoth - Konoha's citizens are being controlled by a virus, and it falls on Sakura's shoulders to save them. A double agent among the most hostile, unrepentant criminals in the world, she finds herself navigating between competing loyalties in a sea of moral uncertainty. But that's impossible for a faithful Leaf nin like Sakura. Loyalties aren't contagious...right? Complete (119,552) | ItaSaku | T

The Lives Worth Saving by cywsaphyre - Naruto, at 26, has lived through 10 years of war. At the end, with nothing left to call home, he sends himself back to the beginning, to the day of his younger self's graduation, in an attempt to change it all. Time travel AU. Discontinued | General | T | best time travel fic I’ve ever read

Kill Your Heroes by Evil Is A Relative Term - Because, sometimes, we are what our adversaries make of us. Because Gatō only needed Zabuza to neutralize Kakashi. He isn't afraid of one little pink-haired genin. But even mice will bite when cornered. A story of where fear drives the most vulnerable member of Team Seven, from Wave and beyond. Ongoing | General | T

I Found You Missing by Wolfy Tales - 'They're asking us because these soldiers have absolutely no one left to write home to,' Sakura thought with a frown. So she signs up for the Shinobi Letter Exchange, not realizing how large the consequences would be. Complete (18,586) | KakaSaku | T

Teach Your Children Well by AvocadoLove - After Madara final attack on the village, Rokudaime Kakashi uncovers a time-travel scroll. Now he's Team Seven's sensei again. And this time, he's going to do things differently. A time travel fic. Complete (37,849) | KakaIru | K+

The Arrangement by Yuugiri - "We're already getting along bad enough. Why don't we just get married?" Complete (111,453) | GaaIno | T

Sabotage by therealesther - When her fifth date got food poisoning, and her sixth date cancelled in over the phone in a tone bordering on hysteria, Sakura decided things were getting out of hand. Complete (1,637) | KakaSaku | K+

To Love and to Love Again by animequeen100 - Love blooms even in the strangest of places, and darkest of hours. Sasuke has a daughter who needs a mother. Sakura has a son, who needs a father. When the shadows that follow her threaten to take her away from him, his dark secrets resurface to keep her in his arms. They were fated to love and destined to love again. Complete (401,061) | SasuSaku | M

The Good Wife by ReiraKurenai - Sixteen-year-old Ino is stuck in the body of her older self. Now she must embark on the journey of an adult, a wife and a mother while deep down she's still just a child herself. What does the future have in store for her? NarutoxIno and various pairings. Ongoing | NaruIno | T

Ripples by Yellow Mask - AU from 309 onwards. Following a botched mission, Sakura is made a slave by Sound, a position that could very well alter the future…especially concerning a certain familiar missing-nin. Complete (143,883) | SasuSaku | T

Set in Ink by TappityTap - "From then on, it became their own private ritual: She'd arrive at his place, they'd talk, she'd undress, he'd draw her, she'd look at his work and compliment it, he'd touch her until she quivered and cried out his name in a sweet burst of release. This ritual was always the same but somehow different and exciting every time. " Pure SaiIno smut. Some canon pairings mentioned. Complete (7,422) | SaiIno | M

The Cursed Geisha by wingedmercury - He's beautiful, in the same way that predatory animals are beautiful—dark, mysterious. Dangerous. Only this time, instead of being the predator, Sasuke will learn what it means to be prey. AU. Complete (43,612) | SasuHina | M

Will of Fire by Cynchick - Forced to flee their village and the new regime, the loyal shinobi of Konoha must find a way to preserve their way of life and take back their home. As they fight for their future, Team Seven struggles to overcome the past. Complete (223,234) | KakaSaku | M

The Secret Life of Teachers by tabine - Romance is a bit difficult to do when you spend a majority of your time within fifty feet of the object of your affections and somehow still don't quite understand that you're falling in love with them, if only because being a full-time high school teacher while taking graduate school courses takes precedence over everything else. A Nejiten high school teachers AU. Ongoing | NejiTen | T

The Line by livezinshadowz - When a young Ino tries to use the Shintenshin for the first time on Naruto, something goes wrong and the two find themselves temporarily stuck in the other's body. A series of moments depicting the evolution of their relationship, from acquaintances to friends to something more, all by crossing that metaphorical line created when a boy and a girl forge a bond. Complete (46,692) | NaruIno | T

In Another Life by CelestialCircumference - Kakashi never believed in soul mates until that fateful day. Written for HatakeFran for the KakaSaku Secret Santa 2016 on tumblr. Complete (18,350) | KakaSaku | T

House of Crows by SilverShine -  War is coming to Konoha and Sakura is far from home, uncertain of her future. But one thing is for sure, Sakura will protect her unborn child at all costs, whether it be from Konoha's enemies... or from its own father. Complete (400,508) | KakaSaku | M

Better Off Dead by wingedmercury - When Hinata leaves Konoha, heartbroken but resolute, the last person she expects to see over the rim of her tea cup is him. "You look like you've just seen a ghost," he smirks, and Hinata thinks that some people are just better off dead. Complete (68,768) | SasuHina | T

The Song Of Kakashi by ZatannaZatara06 - If you want forever, you are going to have to suffer for it. For the KakaSaku Week 2016 Day 2 Theme: Fairy tales / Legends Myth: The story of Achilles and Patroclus. Complete (2,472) | KakaSaku | T

Kunoichi's Burden: Village First by lilac haze - She was dying. She should have died. She was supposed to die but the Gods had other plans. Sakura is thrown back in the past, where a dangerously attractive blonde and a loud mouthed redhead have taken it upon themselves to make her life even more difficult. If Naruto's parents didn't get together, kami, she would be in a lot of trouble. MinatoXSakura. Time travel-fic. Complete (378,854) | MinaSaku | T

On a Leash by thekatthatbarks - Kakashi's new puppy ends up being his best wingman. Complete (1,082) | KakaSaku | T

House Calls by Spoiled Sweet - Always the Team Mom, Sakura opens up her home as a clinic for the hospital-phobic ninja of Konoha. At the same time, her relationship with Kakashi begins to evolve in a way she never expected. Complete (262,803) | KakaSaku | M

Things You Just Don’t Talk About by Enodia - "Do you enjoy sex?" Shikamaru asked bluntly. I just can't believe I'm talking about this, and with Shikamaru, of all people, Sakura thought." Sakura is in for a surprise. Or, rather, a series of surprises. Complete (118,175) | ShikaSaku | M

Players by Kukaburraxxii - Ino joins the league of players. Discontinued | GenIno | M

Heatwave by Yahboobeh - When she found her breath again it was ragged. Only one thought tore through her mind: Consume me. The Suna sun wasn't the only reason their faces burned. Ongoing | NejiTen | M

The Art of War by leafygirl - Entry for the LJ Kakasaku AU contest. Sakura gets stuck following her teacher after a bet with her friends. But his mysterious life is nothing she ever expected. Complete (20,591) | KakaSaku | T

The Shinobi Princess by Winged Lady Colette - At the end of the Fourth Great Ninja War, Sakura takes an unexpected trip into the time of Konoha's Founding. Ongoing | HashiSaku | M

Dawning by deleria - After years of silence the Akatsuki are active again. Her allies uncertain, the Godaime sends two teams - one for a potential offensive strike and another for covert surveillance. Who would have guessed that Shikamaru and Sakura could fake it as newlyweds so well? ShikaSaku with early (one-sided) hints of SasuSaku. Complete (101,994) | ShikaSaku | M

Genius Sensei by AlexDnD - What if Kakashi had recovered from his deep depression? What if he turned out to be a true genius as a sensei? Watch as team 7 develops into a truly capable shinobi team! Complete | NaruSaku-ish | T | A fun read

We Are Never (ever getting back together) by natanije - In which Sakura waited, got tired of waiting, and decided to never wait ever again. (Or, in which Sakura never chased after Sasuke when she got pregnant). Complete (2,592) | General | T

A Poor Imitation by leafygirl - Sakura is injured on a mission, forgetting everything she knew of life in Konoha. Complete (88,913) | KakaSaku | M

The Girl From Whirlpool by SilverShine - When Naruto's father met his mother, his only impression was that a village out there must have been missing its idiot. Complete (248,299) | MinaKushi | T

The Way of the Wind by just enough - ANBU Captain Uchiha Itachi had things well planned out, until a medic-nin with ridiculous hair went and made herself interesting. Sakura insisted she was just doing her job, but Itachi didn't quite see it that way. Non-massacre. Complete (158,542) | ItaSaku | M

Cause for Conversation by firefly - Hinata has always been intimidated by Sasuke, but when she serves as a substitute for Sakura on a mission, she comes to learn that the stoic Uchiha is not so bad after all. Complete (4,858) | SasuHina | K+

The Price by Nenagh24 - This would have almost been hilarious, the renowned copy ANBU almost petrified of a small unarmed girl, had it not been happening to him. The price of this tiny bride was going to break him. Hello, fiery flames of eternal doom. Complete (19,067) | KakaSaku | T

Better Having Met You by KakashiSauce - Tenzou is wide-eyed, bright faced and unprepared for the ANBU life ahead of him. MOSTLY because of the unorthodox team he's placed into. However, it was done in his best interest, and Hiruzen is smart enough to know what is best for most young shinobi. Kakashi disagrees, but he is one of those young shinobi who doesn't know whats best for him. Ongoing | KakaYama | M

Icha Icha Gambit by TheSilverScarecrow - It was a risk; one that could potentially ruin their team, however, who was Hatake Kakashi to argue with the Hokage? But when a never to be finished Icha Icha draft falls into his possesion things start getting wildly out of hand as Sakura does whatever it takes to protect their village from a devastating weapon. Ongoing | KakaSaku | M

Nutrire by Wolfy Tales - As Ino traverses the world with Yamato after the war to neutralize potential threats, she finds out that they share more in common than just an interest in plants. Complete (32,251) | YamaIno | T

Let's Get Married by luvtoshi - It was supposed to be a simple solution to their immediate problems. But maybe they took more than they can chew? Complete (59,760) | NaruSaku | M

Hot Medicine by Saphri - Kakasaku one-shot. AU. Fighting fires was a tough job by all accounts. But when the job requires getting treated by beautiful pink haired paramedics it was worth the hardship. Complete (26,05) | KakaSaku | M

A Noble in Secret by WhiteMint - Side story to the Imperial Princess. C originally hated the people of Konoha, often referring to them as "Konoha dogs". But as he got to know the small pink haired girl who followed him around like a puppy, he no longer considered the term as maliciously as before. After all, he found his own little Konoha dog, and he planned on keeping her. Ancient Chinese AU. Complete (4,420) | CSaku | K+

Cherry Blossom Flames by Winged Lady Colette - A seven year old amnesiac awoke in a stream, being rescued by two brothers.  Ongoing | MadaSaku | M

Adaline by Nikki1212 - I would choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I would find you and I would choose you. AU. Ongoing | KakaSaku | T

Tempest by cywsaphyre - Back in time and armed with years of future knowledge, Sakura is ready to take the world by storm. Except... she's four again, not twelve. Ah well, nobody said she couldn't start a little early. Gen, time travel, AU, Sakuracentric. Discontinued | General | T

All This Time by thekatthatbarks - "I may not have fell like you did. I didn't fall gradually and slow over the span of twenty years. It was fast and sudden. It had me stumbling looking around trying to figure out where I was. I didn't even know it had happened." Complete (2,472) | ShikaSaku | K+

Team 8 by S’TarKan - What if Naruto had been selected for a different team? What if he'd had a different mentor? Who would guess the consequences would be so large? Ongoing | NaruHina | T | I don’t even like NaruHina anymore but this story is amazing (plot-oriented)

Better Man by Kakashisgf - Sakura and Sasuke have been married for over a decade, but things are far from perfect, and Sakura's beginning to realize that maybe she deserves better. Complete (179,759) | KakaSaku | M

Dirty Laundry by Slinkymilinky - Sakura had never been a fan of airing her dirty laundry in public…but Kakashi was often the exception to the rule. Lemony Oneshot. Complete (6,593) | KakaSaku | M

Time and Again by KyLewin - Time Travel fic. In a war torn future, in the burning ruins of Konohagakure, Naruto fights Orochimaru and loses as the world collapses around him. From that ending comes a new beginning and a new chance to set things right, if only he can figure out how.. Complete (456,787) | General | T

The Samurai and the Oni Girl by Silberias - AU KakaSaku set in Edo-period Japan. Sakura is the descendant of a red-haired foreigner as well as a merchant's daughter. Kakashi is a local samurai who has fallen on hard times, a man whose pride has been broken down to this point. Love comes after. Complete (131,644) | KakaSaku | T

Chippendales by Voyna - [AU] Sometimes, a girl needs a lap-dance to put life into perspective. Complete (15,645) | SasuHina | M

Once More, With Feeling by JinnySkeans - Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. Complete (127,462) | SasuSaku | M

In Case of Blue Scroll by Leola Majora - In Case of Blue Scroll the Hokage must lock himself in his office and pull his hair out as what he thought were memories of a long lost love turn out to be the memories of a mission he was about to assign his former student, Sakura Haruno. Complete (48,635) | KakaSaku | M

[I’ll update this again soon!]

[toffeetaffy]

Beast at My Side [5]

Crimes Against Courtesy

At first light it was like a bullet lodged in my chest, Luc's name carved crudely in to the side of it. My tears were like blood. My body was an open wound. I raged, I wailed, I tore my hotel room apart. The broken glass glittered like starlight. Deep inside my chest I held on to the last sliver of grief, angry at the thought of parting with it. It was late in the evening when my fury finally died down, my eyes finally dried. I wrestled the remaining heartsick shard with shaky hands. And then it was done. Then, I knew the worst of it to be over.

At the hotel reception I pay extra for staying in past check-out time. Charges for damages will surely come later.

I drive for hours through the dark. Luc's ghost is like a passenger beside me and somehow I know that it always will be. Somehow I know I will always carry this part of him with me. It will make me strong. It will make me brave. I roll down the windows and turn up the stereo, long fingers clutching the wheel too tightly, wind slipping under my skin like the touch of so many cool, clean hands. The roadside is dotted with little white flowers. I sing loudly and off-key, my fingers drumming hopelessly out of time, and I smile. It feels defiant. It feels too soon to smile again; too long since I last smiled. Then I am laughing and blushing and trying to remember the exact definition of hysteria.

It takes two more songs, four more dopey smiles, and one inelegant yawn for me to close in on the town of Forks. I pull into a rest stop and turn the key in the ignition. The headlamps blink off, the stereo goes silent, the world around me plunges in to darkness. For a time all that exists is the sound of my own breath and the stunning purple sky. Spindly green vines cover the lamppost, strangle its busted globe, and grow through the length of chain-link that separates me from the wilderness. I feel a pull. I know not what it is, only that it wishes to draw me close, longs for me to wander in to those woods and never come back. I close my eyes. When I open them again I am outside the van, white-knuckled hands gripping the rail of the fence. It's like sleep walking. It's like a siren's song born of the trees and whispered to the wind. Then I hear it: my name. The sound is hollow, like an echo, as though it only exists in my mind. Then louder, more insistent. Then it is there, behind me, and as real as the gravel at my feet.

"It's good to see you again."

I close my eyes expecting to wake up. I do not. Instead, when I turn to face him he is standing far too close, his hazy shadow smothering my entire body. I whisper his name. It is a question more than a greeting and the fear it holds makes him smile. He delights in my dread. For the first time since meeting him I am able to truly reconcile what Jasper is with the way he treats me. He is a predator. This is predatory. Without the numbness to douse my fear I am left to wonder if his civility will always transcend his hunger. It seems cruel that even now his smile makes my chest ache, makes my knees weak. His eyes are enough to set the sky on fire, to deafen me with the roar of the flames.

So his companions went unnoticed.

They stand on either side of him, a few steps back, a comfortable distance. The woman—more beautiful than Bella; the man—more intimidating than Jasper. I mumble some sort of greeting, the words stumble over my lips, taste bitter with fear, and hang dead in the air. Be brave. You were brave once: when he had his lips on yours, when he clutched you in his hands. I square my shoulders. I raise my chin. Each gesture is, I am sure, as transparent as it is futile. Cold air draws shakily into my lungs and when I finally find the strength to speak he silences me by taking my hand in his, twining my fingers in his own.

He eases me forward. He draws back his hand. "I'd like you to meet some people."

Flawless. Each curve and dip of her body, every length of hair, every scrap of skin has been chosen with an artist's eye, moulded with a master's hands. Rosalie is such an alluring apparition that she makes my stomach twist in to knots, and my palms greasy with sweat. She is undoubtedly the most stunning, most unnatural creature I have ever laid eyes upon. I want her to speak. I want her to smile. She appears likely to do neither.

Even next to her the brute with the boyish smile is captivating. He is a giant, a behemoth. He is a colossal wall of twitching muscle and I do not know how his skin manages to hold it all inside. I do not think Emmett is a mind-reader, but when I imagine him crushing my skull in his hands he smiles a little wider, dimples frame his thin lips.

"It's nice to meet you." I say, but it comes out in a stutter.

I edge towards the van. Cold, nervous sweat trickles down my spine, dampens my rigid neck. There is no deception to my escape attempt, no practised nonchalance, and when my gaze sweeps back to Jasper his usually stoic features seem pinched. I am not so deluded as to believe that what I see there is concern. It is offence. For which of my crimes against courtesy I am not sure. I do not care. He asks if I am on my way to see Bella. I nod.

"And where are you three headed?" I reach the van and pull open the door.

"Why?" Emmett's smile draws up on one side. "Offering us a lift?"

No. I climb inside, I close the door.

The siblings speak softly, quickly, privately. Wind whistles and wails, hides their whispers from my ears, and whips at the little white blossoms lining the road. Their petals pull, their stems strain. The whispers stop. Turning to me, the behemoth waves his farewell with a sort of mock salute. I sigh in relief, raise my arm to copy the gesture. Before my hand can return to the wheel I register the sound of the passenger door, feel the bench seat depress. I keep my eyes on the trees, on the chain-link fence, anywhere but on the creature beside me. We pull out of the rest stop. We edge on to the road. We carve our way through the night.

When I open my mouth there is no sound but the wind. My eyes pinch closed and my throat clenches as I try to swallow the persistent lump lodged within. It freezes, and burns, and cuts like crushed ice. I choke it down. My eyes water. Remember when it was easy. The muddy dress, the ruined book, your legs brushing against his. The courteous killer. I take one deep breath, then another, then one more as I replay that afternoon in my mind. And that is how I think of him: in long silences perfectly punctuated with pointed teeth.

"Scheherazade."

"Scheherazade?"

"Your story," he says, "ever think you'll get around to telling it?"

There was a bargain struck. My story for my safety. "You asked me what was in Seattle, I told you: my family. You wanted a story so I gave you one. I told you the big things, the important things. What more could there possibly be?"

When I fix my eyes on him I expect to see a smirk, hear a laugh. But there is no condescension, there is only his steady gaze locked on mine. Something about that shames me. I assume the worst because of what he is, assume I must to stay alive. Be cautious, be careful.

"But that wasn't really your story, was it?" He possesses an insight humans are incapable of. My heart beats in my throat, makes me sweaty and faint. "I know what it means to have your life defined by someone else. That story was about your brother. That story is over."

I should cry. I should scream. I should slam on the brakes and beat my fists against the wheel but all I do is sigh.

"Tell me," he continues, "the first thing you did—first decision you made—that had absolutely nothing to do with him."

It should be easy. There should be one million answers, one million memories, one million little things that Luc didn't touch. But when he drew breath my brother was my world.

"I'll be sure to tell you when I do."

I have wasted my life thinking I was half of a person, half of a pair, half of something whose value is only as a whole. But I can no longer be burdened by my brothers greatness. I can no longer live as his shadow.

The beast at my side is cool and still like stone, ashy and pale against the purple night. Tender and terrifying as it suits him. Catching his eye is easy, catching my breath is not. I apologise for being rude, for trying to flee from his friendly introductions. A ghost of a smile. A trace of amusement. Behind his curt nod is a genuine acceptance. It pecks me to pieces and stitches me back together, washes my guilt away.

"And about the other day..." I remember the heat in my chest, his breath on my neck. As foolish as it was I would do it all again.

He tells me that I have nothing else to apologise for. We continue our journey in perfectly imperfect silence. ___

Light cuts through the wall of glass, barely concealed by papery blinds. The room I have awoken in is familiar. Similar but not the same. Edward's room. His couch replaced by a bed: broad but plain. An attempt by Bella to make me 'feel at home', give me 'my own space'. I wonder how long she thinks I will stay.

When I arrived the previous night I had only the time to turn off the van and pull my keys from the ignition before I was wrapped up in Bella's stony embrace. She scolded me in a mothers voice, stroked my hair with a mothers touch. Guided in to the main house under her sheltering wing, I soon noticed the masculine simplicity of Edward's former room had been transformed. I didn't comment. Folded in her arms, I cried myself to sleep.

Teeth clean. Hair tidy. A fleeting glance in the mirror. If I look any longer I will see his face, and there could be no crueller thing than that. I distract myself by folding the bedroom blinds neatly, pushing the windows open wide. Sun covers my face and heats my skin: brown and warm behind a tight, cold smile.

There's a rumbling like thunder, a laugh, and a growl that draw my attention downward. Three impossible creatures grapple in the tall grass. Shimmering skin. Stretching shadows. They run at each other with arms like masts, teeth bared like snarling hounds. Then they drive their hands into each others bodies. Over and over. A punch, a push, pummelling each other in a savage stream of fists. Emmett is stronger. Jasper is faster. Edward is three moves ahead. They crash together in violent waves, slam into the dirt, and begin again. The brutal display makes my heartbeat throb in the tips of my fingers. I press them to my lips. It feels like a half-remembered kiss, an imagined surrender. I keep my eyes closed tight until the feeling stops. It stops too soon. When I look again the ashen figures are gone.

There is a knock at the door. The sound is so soft it seems almost imagined. It opens to reveal Bella wearing a faded shirt and torn jeans like a costume. Nothing from her old life suits her newly crafted skin. "Come downstairs," she says, her voice a sublime invitation.

The family sit around the living room. They are each folded neatly in to the furniture, posed like mannequins. Their beautiful, bloodless bodies make me ache.

"Tea, dear?" Esme asks, her voice as soft as the consoling smile she wears. I nod and take a seat at her side, waiting for the inevitable consolation. She does not disappoint. "We're all very sorry to hear about your brother."

This is where I should thank her. For the tea, for the room, for her kindness. But I don't. There is nothing affable or courteous left inside me. All I am is rotten and ruined.

"It occurs to me," I say, "that there must be a price. What exactly does it cost me to know your secret?" The question hangs crooked in the air, unsightly and strange against the pristine walls of their home.

I wring my hands, grind my teeth.

When the doctor finally speaks his voice is a sombre, distant sigh. "Not quite so much as it once did." A truth he seems resigned to. "It's a long tale," Carlisle tells me, "even for those of us unhindered by time." He embroiders his story with a cheery romanticism it scarcely deserves; an undead government, shadowy enforcers, the conception of an impossible child, and a narrowly avoided war. This story—Bella's story—is terrifying. None of them seem to notice. "Of course, these days our family is afforded a little... lenience."

My head throbs. I pull at my hair with both hands. Here I am in a straw house, flicking matches at the wall. If I say the wrong thing now I could set this place ablaze. "And why is that?" There it is. The smouldering ruin of my human curiosity.

Edward twitches, ticks, and shifts his eyes. Where his family is perfectly impassive, he is a tornado . "My sister," he says, "Alice."

___

← prev  -  next  →

[technato]

EUV Lithography Finally Ready for Chip Manufacturing

This long-awaited technology will extend the life of Moore’s Law

Photo: IMEC

.article-detail figure.lt { clear:none; } .mobileShow { display: none;}

/* Smartphone Portrait and Landscape */

@media only screen

and (min-device-width : 320px)

and (max-device-width : 480px){ .mobileShow { display: inline;} }

.mobileHide { display: inline;}

/* Smartphone Portrait and Landscape */

@media only screen

and (min-device-width : 320px)

and (max-device-width : 480px){ .mobileHide { display: none;} } .mobileShow img { width: 48%; float: right; }

Photo: IMEC

Silicon Savior: ASML’s extreme ultraviolet lithography machines are being installed all over the world in preparation for the technology’s long-awaited debut in chipmaking.

“A fab is like an iceberg,” someone tells me. I can’t tell who because we’re all covered head to toe in clean-room garb. A tour of GlobalFoundries’ Fab 8 in Malta, N.Y., certainly reinforces that analogy: We’ve just come up from the “sub-fab,” the 10 meters of vertical space under the floor, where pipes and wires snake down from each semiconductor-manufacturing tool above to a set of automated chemical handlers, water analyzers, power conditioners, and—in the case of the unit I’ve come to see—kilowatt-class lasers.

The laser system takes up 15 to 20 square meters out of perhaps 80 square meters of the floor space required for a single machine. About halfway through a six-week assembly process of mind-bending complexity, the equipment making up the tip of the iceberg is a house-size agglomeration of shiny metal tubes, opaque chambers, and wiring. A half dozen bunny-suited technicians are moving around the behemoth, probing and connecting things in a carefully choreographed procedure.

The giant machine garnering all this attention is an extreme ultraviolet lithography tool. For more than a decade, the semiconductor-manufacturing industry has been alternately hoping EUV can save Moore’s Law and despairing that the technology will never arrive. But it’s finally here, and none too soon.

Samsung was the first to claim it will be ready to produce chips for customers using EUV tools, saying that will happen in the second half of 2018. But its competitors GlobalFoundries, Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co. (TSMC), and Intel are clearly on track to do the same within a quarter or two.

Intel won’t reveal anything about its road map, saying through a spokesperson, “We are committed to bringing EUV into production as soon as the technology is ready at an effective cost.” But VLSI Research analyst G. Dan Hutcheson points out that Intel has purchased more EUV tools than any other company.

GlobalFoundries, Samsung, and TSMC have been more forthcoming, and they seem to be following the same playbook. They are each introducing EUV in a second iteration of a 7-nanometer manufacturing process—the 7-nm node, as it’s called—which they will have run for as long as a year using the pre-EUV technology.

The thinking is clearly that two big changes would be too much to handle. Gary Patton, GlobalFoundries’ chief technology officer, describes the 7-nm process even without EUV as “an extreme sport.” If things work out and foundries can keep the tool running 80 percent of the time or more—which both GlobalFoundries and TSMC say they can do—EUV will actually make the 7-nm process simpler and cheaper. To understand why, though, you have to have a good grasp of how chipmaking is done now.

“Lithography is the heart of the fab,” says Thomas Caulfield, senior vice president and general manager of GlobalFoundries’ Fab 8. Silicon wafers have to make many stops along the way in their transformation from smooth blanks to iridescent platters jam-packed with 13-billion-transistor microprocessors. And many of those stops take place inside a photolithography tool.

Today’s state-of-the-art process is called 193-nm immersion lithography. As the name implies, light with a wavelength of 193 nm shines through a patterned surface called a photomask. That process casts the pattern through water onto the silicon wafer, where it is fixed by a photosensitive chemical and then etched onto the wafer. The problem is that light can’t directly define features smaller than its own wavelength. And 193 nm is so much longer than the size of the features modern chips need. These days it takes a host of optical tricks and work-arounds to make up the difference. The most costly of these is the use of as many as three or four different photomasks to produce a single pattern on a chip. With today’s most complex processors, that means a wafer could need some 80 trips though the lithography tool.

EUV lithography’s reason for being is that it uses 13.5-nm light, which is much closer to the size of the final features to be printed. With it, manufacturers can turn three or four lithography steps into one. For its 7-nm EUV process, GlobalFoundries will replace 15 steps with just 5. John Lin, TSMC’s director of litho equipment and mask technology, says his company plans a similar reduction.

While that will make the work at 7 nm faster and cheaper, it’s the nodes beyond where EUV will be absolutely crucial. “If you didn’t use EUV for 5 nm, it’d be more than 100 [lithographic steps],” says Patton. “That’d be insane.”

Patton makes it sound as though EUV lithography arrived just in time, and in a way it has. But it has been a decades-long journey with many moments when one expert or another declared it dead. Its arrival in production now still seems a bit unbelievable to some observers.

According to VLSI’s Hutcheson, the long delay shouldn’t be that surprising. “Core technology takes a lot longer than anyone would expect,” he says. Despite using different light sources along the way, lithography hasn’t really had a change in technology this fundamental since the 1980s, he argues.

Throughout most of EUV’s history, the main problem has been the light source, and considering its complexity, that’s not surprising. In a vacuum chamber at one end of the machine, microscopic droplets of molten tin are fired in a stream as two laser blasts strike each of them sequentially. The first one hits the droplets so precisely that they flatten into misty discs. The second blasts them with so much power that they become little balls of plasma shining with EUV light.

Light-source developers couldn’t provide the needed power for years, and they consistently overpromised and underdelivered. But now concerns about the light source have basically been put to rest. One source capable of outputting 205 watts of light is ready to ship, and ASML has demonstrated 250 W in the lab. “We are confident that ASML will achieve 250 W in the field in 2018,” says TSMC’s Lin.

Even though most of the light is lost on its multireflector trip through the machine, that wattage will work even for the 5 nm node. But for 3 nm, analysts think that chipmakers will need 500 W, and maybe 1,000 W a couple generations further on for 1 nm. The former is doable through a combination of increasing the power of the drive lasers, improved efficiency at converting the laser energy to EUV light, and more precise stability and control. But the latter would require an absurd amount of power. The EUV tool and its associated drive lasers and other equipment I saw at GlobalFoundries draw about 1 megawatt to ultimately deliver just a few tens of watts of light power to the wafer. Caulfield tells me they had to add 10 percent to Fab 8’s power supply to accommodate the two EUV tools being installed for 2018.

Although the power challenge has now been largely overcome, that’s not to say that EUV lithography is working perfectly. There are still some problems with the masks. These EUV masks are quite different from those used for 193-nm lithography in that they reflect light—using dozens of nanoscale layers composed of different materials—instead of transmitting it. In practice they have imperfections, ones that are hard to spot and avoid. Also, the transparent covers—called pellicles—that usually protect lithography masks from dust are not fully ready for EUV.

Pellicles are important because, even within the ultraclean environment inside the EUV machine—which itself is in a top-of-the-line clean room—some dust is still generated in the manufacturing process. A speck falling onto the photomask can cast a device-killing shadow on every single finished chip and render a rather expensive mask worthless.

That’s why in today’s lithography tools, the photomask is covered by a transparent pellicle. Think of it as safety glasses for the mask. But today’s pellicles are opaque to EUV.

To work for EUV, pellicles must have extrathin membranes to make them transparent, but they must be strong enough to withstand mechanical shocks from the normal scanning movement of the photomask and the thermal shocks that come with blasts of energetic EUV radiation.

Even without a good enough pellicle in hand, chipmakers are gambling that with only a few EUV steps in the process, the risk of using a naked mask will be worth it. That work-around can’t continue once chipmakers start relying on EUV for more steps, but solutions are in the works. ASML, for one, has tested a design for use with a 250-W EUV light source. “The design for pellicles has to evolve,” says Vivek Bakshi, an EUV consultant. “I don’t see it as a showstopper.”

The more serious problem is that there’s still no good way to inspect a photomask for defects. Ideally, you’d want to use EUV light to scan for spots that need repair. But that technology, called actinic patterned-mask inspection, is still in the works (although Samsung says it has developed an in-house solution). All chipmakers have right now is a handful of stopgap measures. One is to use existing tools that rely on 193-nm light. But at the 7-nm technology node, using such an outsize wavelength is like trying to read braille with your elbow: It kind of works, but you’ll probably miss something. Electron-beam inspection tools have the resolution but can be slow. ASML shipped its first electron-beam inspection tool recently.

Chipmakers can also use what they call a “print check.” That is, they stick the mask in the EUV lithography tool, producing a patterned silicon wafer, and inspect that wafer itself, a more time-consuming and expensive process than they’d like.

Nevertheless, chipmakers are moving ahead. “People adopting EUV are defining its use, so that these things don’t get in the way,” says Aki Fujimura, CEO of electron-beam technology firm D2S and an expert in the technology used to write patterns on photomasks.

Technology experts expect that some very clever engineers will soon solve this and other remaining problems of EUV lithography. Indeed, the different chipmakers will probably distinguish themselves by how well they can find engineers who are up to the task. “We spend all this money on the tools, but if we don’t have the right people, we can’t do this,” says Patton.

This article appears in the January 2018 print magazine as “EUV Lithography Finally Ready for Fabs.”

EUV Lithography Finally Ready for Chip Manufacturing syndicated from http://ift.tt/2Bq2FuP

[lumin-aion]

Cruciamentum Epilogue: What Does Not Kill You (4/4)

The Archons had managed to hang some draperies about the bivouac, and for that, Kelta was thankful. The other daevas did not need to see what was happening to their comrade. The dark-skinned soulhealer knelt next to her charge – both hers and Remao's, one of the Fatebound's finest healers. Kelta had had to have her assistants man the Danuar Spire Obelisk – no one in Katalam was trained to deal with the amount of trouble that this daeva Lumin was in, but Ketla and Remao were among the best. Together, over the four days since the girl's reformation at the Obelisk, they had healed the worst of it – the girl's flesh had been bubbling with ide crystals, but Remao had managed to siphon the ide that boiled through the assassin's bloodstream. The physical effects were terrible, but they paled in comparison to what Kelta saw in the girl's aetheric essence. Sweat dripped from the healers brow as she concentrated, eyes closed, her mind gliding within the energies that surrounded the malformed girl. With the greatest care, she reached out invisible fingers, touching the assassin's spirit, drawing out the poison that had infused itself with her soul. Every time she touched the spirit-ide, it hurt, but she was diligent. Every crystaline drop of the substance that she gathered from the daeva's soul slowly materialized in her physical palm, and was carefully siphoned into a vial by Remao, who could no longer work on healing the daeva's hurts without having the girl's soul tended. Drop by drop, the glowing substance was siphoned out of Lumin's soul, and out of her body. But the ravages it had had were obvious to anyone that had known the vibrant girl beforehand. Commander Vard watched on in silence, his craggy features knit into a dire expression, one clawed hand holding the draperies about the bivouac open just enough that he could stand at the edge, watching. He'd had enough dealings with this particular assassin to know that the loss of her expertise in these new lands would be an actual setback. He hated seeing any of his soldier's die, Aion knew – but this was somehow worse. Kelta tugged again at the ephemeral, spiritual energy of the stricken daeva, but she was beginning to realize that she had done all that she could – they had stopped the Ide from corrupting the girl, but it couldn't be wholly seperated from her, either. As a final droplet of the substance appeared in her palm, she broke her trance, looking to the wide eyes of Remao. “That's the last that I can reach. The rest has...fused...with her energy. If I tried to remove it, it might kill her. Or worse.” She bit her lower lip, and Remao nodded. She capped the vial of idgel fluid, and rose, looking over at where the Commander was watching. “It's in Aion's hands, Commander. I've healed her hurts. If the corruption has been stopped enough...” The cleric glanced to the soulhealer, who was rising, taking a cloth out to blot the sweat on her dark forehead. “I do not think what's fused to her essence will spread, but I don't really know what, if any, effect it'll have on her.” The soulhealer gave them both a helpless look. “Only Lord Marchutan could divine whether she'll be alright.” Vard frowned even deeper, nodding. “Keep her bed-bound for the moment, then. I'll post a guard detail – the reports I've received tell me that the subjects of Ide Infusion usually go berserk. If that happens, I don't want her causing any harm to anyone else. Both of you, get some rest. You've done what you can.” He turned, and marched off, grim-faced. One day later... When her eyes flit open, she could feel the bindings on her wrist, and she screamed. Instead of Bhavya's cold, ice-eyes, though, she saw the warm orbs of one of Danuar Spire's master healer, Remao. Lumin pulled at the bonds that kept her down, her body aching, but otherwise seeming...somewhat numb. Like she had fallen asleep on her leg, only it was everywhere. Remao immediately placed a hand on the assassin's forehead, and in a calming tone, spoke soft words of peace. “Shh. Shh...it's alright. You're here with us. You're alright.” The touch drove a spike of hate into her brain, and her first coherent thought was an image of her biting one of the healer's fingers off, and swallowing it. The desire was strong, a pulsing, purring need inside of her. Kill. Remao, as if sensing something awry, lifted her hand. A moment later, the years of her training under the Archons of Malice kicked in, and she calmed. She heard Jhaerkh's voice in her head, that same speech she had replayed a thousand times, about how she was Asmodian, and she must never harm her people. She took a deep breath, and stilled, blinking. “Water?” Her throat felt parched, her lips felt cracked. A cool flask was placed at her lips, and she drank greedily. “You've had a horrible experience, miss Lumin. We did what we could, but...whatever happened, we couldn't undo all of it.” Lumin's lips turned upwards into a smile, the habit automatic. She beamed up at Remao, who looked a bit startled at the expression coming from her charge. Lumin's tongue darted across her cracked, dry lips, and spreading the remains of her water over them to soothe them. “Like...um...how long...? And what do you mean?” her voice was somewhat hoarse, but it was still her voice. She felt odd, weak and tingly, but if she had been out for a long time, then that would explain that. “It's been five days since you reformed at the Spire's Obelisk. Commander Vard says you went missing two weeks ago. I don't know what happened between then and your reappearance, but...” The cleric brought up a handheld mirror, keeping it face down. “You've been poisoned with Ide. We removed what we could, but it's had some mutagenic effects. Please, brace yourself.” Carefully, the cleric raised the mirror, and the first thing that Lumin noticed was that someone had played a trick, and that there was a lightcrystal embedded in the mirror. The glow was lambent, occasionally pulsing. She blinked, and it faded a moment. Her eyes focused, and she saw a face that was hers, yet not. Her skin was the wrong shade, she looked paler, more...blue. Her hair had faded to a pinkish shade. Her lips were tinged with that same blue. Her eyes.... One of them glowed. It glowed with the blue shine of Ide. She could see swirls of the stuff in her iris, the material slowly drifting about. Her other eye was paler than it was, but still noticeably amethyst, untouched. She remembered then – it was her right eye that had been lanced. Her right eye that had had the stuff injected. She bit her lip, hard, to keep from screaming. Blood welled up, but she felt little pain. The blood was...tasty. “It'll be alright...” Remao tried to placate the assassin, who laid her head back down, and closed her eyes, lips twisting into a crimson, bleeding smile. Okeydokeylokey. Everything will be just fine. That night... “This is absolutely asinine!” Vard's gauntleted fist slammed into the stone table, and the document that was on it. The force of his blow shattered the black wax seal of the Shadow Court, sending one shard of the dried wax flying across the table to clatter to the floor. The two men that stood before the enraged Templar remained calm, the small one grim-faced, the behemoth smiling. Both wore the black uniform of the Court. “Think what you will, Commander, but the Shadow Council has judged. The daeva known as Lumin has been found to be too great a threat. Her Brigade General has been notified. The girl is stripped of her position, and will no longer be accepted within the military.” The smaller, grim-faced man spoke quietly. The large man just smirked, clearly happy about the situation. Vard snarled, raising a hand and pointing a finger towards the two Inquisitors. “You and your damned...idiocy! My people have told me they think the girl will make a full recovery! Everything we've seen points to her being no greater threat than she was. I've read your bloody report about her. She might be mad, but she's a damn fine warrior. Look at her record! She bloody slew one of their Governors. That's no mean feat!” The hulking man, pale as snow, stepped forward as the shorter man opened his mouth for a rebuttal. “Commander. I am Inquisitor Ixidris. I've studied this girl for years, and believe me...she is a threat.” The gigantic man's smirk deepened. “I have long pushed that steps be taken to see that she is no longer a threat, but so far, few have listened. Finally, they have. She was taken by the balaur, and they turned her into their agent. She can no longer be trusted. She was a monster before, and now she has become even worse.” “But you do--” “-I do know, Commander!” The hulking Inquisitor interrupted. “I know all too well. And whether you like it or not, she will NOT serve within our fine military's ranks again, not so long as the Court believes her to be a threat.” His eyes danced merrily, a dark, mirthful look. “And I can assure you that if I have any say in it, that stance shall not change any time soon. It would be wise if she were barred from Katalam and Danaria altogether.” “Go to Elysea.” Vard cursed angrily. “Your message is received, get out of my office!” After the two made their exit, the Commander sat down, steepling his fingers. Bureaucrats in Pandaemonium had no idea what it was really like out here, on the front. Some didn't even believe the reports about the Hyperion. Vard knew he needed every daeva he could get out here, fighting Asmodae's foes. Beritra, Kaisinel...both were too dangerous by far. But maybe there was another way... He rose, and marched out towards the makeshift infirmary near the base of the Spire. --- “But...but why can't I fight?! I need to kill things or...or I'll EXPLODE!” Lumin was sitting up in her bedroll, an empty bowl of what had once been mosbear soup cradled in her lap. She had recovered her appetite, at least – it was her eight bowl. Vard stood before the stricken assassin, who looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. It was strange to see that glow, so unnatural. He frowned, casting a thought to the Shadow Court's decision, but then he shook his head. He knelt, placing a gauntleted hand on the girl's shoulder. She flinched, then calmed. “Pleeease don't make me have to do what they say! I bet it was Ixidris! He's a...a...poopface! He hates me! It's not fair I gotta kill stuff! I don't want to not fight!” He sighed, shaking his head. “I have no authority over the matter. You've already been officially stripped of position. You're a civilian.” Lumin grabbed her bowl and hid her face in it. “Not fair not fair I didn't do nothing wrong IT WAS THEM BALAURS! I didn't do nothin' wrong!” Her voice rose, distress filling it. Vard patted her shoulder a moment. “There's another way. You're no longer in the military, girl, but there's other ways. There's a merc outfit out here too. I'm not a fan of them, but they're out here, fighting – and technically, they aren't part of our military. If you were with them...you could fight.” She looked up from her bowl, her face ringed by gummy, drying mosbear soup. She smiled, her lips twisting upwards, eyes wide, happy, beaming almost – it made a shiver run down Vard's mane. “Okeydokeylokey...”