#like pigs squeezing in the rain

[sunflowersareonfire]

Today I learned that my favorite book series is getting a television adaptation with the titular character - Murderbot - being played by Alexander Skarsgård and let me tell you. Never mind, I can’t. I can’t tell you how excited I am.

[vagabond-umlaut]

gesundheit

you deem gojo to be the most stubborn nurse you've ever seen. you suppose you're the most stubborn patient gojo's ever seen.

but what you don't know is you both are the most caring, and the most idiotic, couple of best friends [or perhaps... something else] anyone's ever seen.

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! gn! reader; sickfic; mentions of flu & the medicines treating it [i wish i could include their composition too but no :(((]; a brief appearance of yummy chicken soup; gallons & gallons of tooth-rotting fluff; one sexual innuendo; ETERNALLY PINING 'TORU & ETERNALLY OBLIVIOUS SHORTIE ARE BACK!! :D

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

obdurate, obstinate, bull-headed, pig-headed—

you reckon there's no word in the lexicon of any language, from any corner of this world, that can adequately describe the boy crouched before you.

furrowed brows barely visible from behind the unkempt white bangs, gojo shoots you a woefully concerned look, so much so that it makes you wanna smack it right off his face– and says, "your temperature is still above 100, shortie. you sure you took all the medications right on time?"

"i did," you grit out through clenched teeth and a hoarse throat before a fit of cough racks through your warm body, making you clutch onto your blankets for dear life while the airways fight to expel the irritants into the tissue you've pressed over the lower two-thirds of your face—

a painful battle which continues for a good portion of a minute or two before ending– temporarily— you toss the tissue into the overflowing trash can few feet away and return to glaring at your best friend, with a very exhausted, very frustrated sigh.

gojo's shades glint back innocently in the low light of the television as the boy dutifully places the thermometer in its box then moves to put the lids back on the tupperware he brought you dinner in.

you sigh yet again, wrapping the blankets tighter round yourself.

"sometimes, i wonder if you ever learnt to read, y'know?" you mumble in a soft voice, yet its tone mad enough to make him flinch as he rises from the carpet– having cleared the center table of the remainders of the chicken soup haibara made for you– only to cover it a tiny second later with anti-pyretics, cough syrups, nasal decongestants, inhalers-

gasp of shock worsening into a scratchy cough, you wheeze out, "did you really not read my messages, 'toru? i asked u to leave my soup at the doorstep but you warped right to the centre of my living room— i also asked you not to buy any medicine for me, i already bought them today, but- but- you literally bought the entire medicine shop for me!"

"yeah. and?" the white-haired boy retorts, short and sweet with that eye-crinkling beam of his– one he knows never not works on you, "it isn't like i don't have the means to afford it. and as for your orders via the messages..."

he trails off, shooting you a wink as he moves to plop down near your feet on the sofa and drawls, "i've always been a brat. why don't ya put me back in my place, huh?"

in his place... don't tell me this idiot's speaking of...

"is that supposed to be a bdsm thing, satoru?" you inquire, genuinely confused. concerned. "and you should raise your standards, y'know? thinking a person sick and dying from a flu to be attractive enough to apply a pick-up line on them; i hone– hey, no, why the fuck are you—"

"scoot. over."

neither gojo's stony tone nor his pinched features brook any room for you to disagree, yet you decide not to be held back by such, legs and arms struggling to free themselves from the blanket to push the way too tall figure squeezing you into the sofa as he lies down beside you.

not even a moment passes before your blankets are rudely ripped off your body, then dumped on the floor beneath. swallowing back a sigh of relief– the fan feels so good!– you muster a glower to shoot at your best friend.

earning an eyeroll and a huff, you know are fond, in reply.

"the paracetamol will be kicking in soon, and you'll start sweating like hell then," the boy explains, plucking his shades off and placing them on the table beside, "and that sweat needs to get evaporated asap for your fever to reduce asap— which won't happen if you stay swaddled in your blankets. didn't ya know that, shortie?"

your fever-stricken mind didn't until now, but you decide not to voice the fact out loud, just to not appease the smug grin on that bastard's face.

instead, you retort, "but don't you know staying in close contact with a sick person, taking no preacutions, can make you fall ill too?"

"nah!" gojo shoves your concern away with a dismissive shake of his head, "i'm not one of the strongest duo for nothing, you know? them weakass flu viruses can do nothing to me."

then adds, swiping a calloused palm over the skin of your forehead— cracking a smile, you realize, is 'cause he finds it sweating, "moreover, you're sick, shortie— you don't think i'm gonna leave you to take care of yourself, all alone with no one to help, do you?"

you don't.

of course, you don't, knowing who your dearest friend is— a very very stubborn boy, a store of immense power, but most importantly— the holder of a heart made from the purest of pure gold...

a half-hearted ugh is the only response you decide to grace his query with, not really minding when the boy ruffles your hair and pulling the thinnest of the blankets over you both, shifts so that he is now on his side with an arm tucked under his head, while you remain squished in between him and the sofa, face nearly pressing into his shirt-covered chest.

allowing a beat to pass, you peer up at him, mumbling tiredly.

"but why are you sleeping with me here, 'toru? go to one of the rooms and sleep in them. your legs will hurt a lot tomorrow, if you keep them dangling like that."

"let them," gojo smiles, wrapping a loose arm round your midsection, "it's more important for me to stay close to you to know when you're feeling sick and when you're not- or do you wanna make me sleep on the floor? i can do that for you."

"i am not saying this for me, 'toru," you grumble, inching closer to him despite your brain barking opposite instructions at you, "it's for you– i move a lot when i'm asleep. you won't get even a wink of sleep."

your best friend's lips lift knowingly. "why do you think i trapped you like this, hm?"

your zeal to dissuade him, itself fades a little. still, you persist, "i also tend to mumble in my sleep. won't you find that creepy?"

"nothing's creepy if it's in your sweet voice," he answers with a very... uncanny smile then rushes to add with a visibly exhausted sigh when you shoot him a frown, "i've got earplugs in my bag. i'll use them if it's too unbearable for me."

"tch!"

the battle of talking him out of this seemingly- definitely lost, you tsk and move to shut your eyes, finally letting your ailing body to listen to the call of sleep— before your eyes fly open again— a brand new idea whirring to life in your mind.

"but what if i start sneezing, or worse, coughing in the middle of the night? what are you go—"

"shut up," gojo shushes you, pressing your face into his shirt by a firm hold on the back of your head. you make a yelp of protest but it goes ignored by him as he continues, voice dropping to a pleasant rumble.

"and in case you start sneezing or coughing, i'm gonna wake up and take care of you and will stay awake till you're perfectly okay and fine— is that clear to you, shortie? taking care of you is only why i'm here tonight— why else would i bother myself with a snot-nosed person?"

his remark makes your fingers want to pinch his sides hard– but you stop them— choosing to let them draw nonsensical designs over his back, instead. a barely-there shiver passes through his body, you feel it, the same moment he removes his hand from the back of your hair to keep it in between your shoulder blades, lightly pressing, loosening the knots there.

yawning a little, you nuzzle into him at the comfort his action gives, then blink a pair of bleary eyes up at him, "do you know how much i adore you?"

curiosity and delight dimple his cheeks in a smile, clear as day for you to see. he asks, "you do?"

"mmhm," you don't waste even an instant in humming your assent, the relief brought by the medicines and gojo making you slowly fall into the grasp of slumber, "i really do. you're very very very precious to me and i adore you so much, 'toru. you're the best."

"i'm very happy to know that," the boy murmurs in a tone way too soft for him, but your slowly ebbing consciouness doesn't let you dwell on it for long— a smile shaping your lips at his next words, "and i too love you very much. i lo-"

he stops abruptly, making you frown up at him, worried— only to find him wearing a bright grin on his face. something tells you he is hiding something— his eyes are too nervous for a bragging person as him...

deciding not to pay it any attention, you pucker your lips into a pout.

"heyyy," you whine, "finish your sentence, 'toru!!! you can't leave your darling best friend hanging like thattt!!!"

the tension in his facial muscles reduces a pinch at your demand. the boy's grin widens, glowing even brighter to your tired eyes than those led-like blue eyes of his in the dim lights of the room.

thumbing your cheek lightly, he gives into your urging. "okay, fine— i love my darling shortie the most in this world. so much so that there is no one in this world who can love you as much as i do," he says in a gentle whisper, then adds— face growing that same strange smile as before— "my beloved best friend... now does that make you happy?"

the abrupt change in his tone to an oddly cheery quality as he makes his query is more than enough to give you one hell of a whiplash. you quickly sidestep it– filing the many queries it brings, away to be dealt with on a healthier day.

a brief shiver sending you press yourself closer into his comforting self, you close your eyes and mumble into the fabric of his shirt, "it makes me the happiest... thank you, 'toru. i too love you the most."

a tiny beat passes before you feel a feather-light kiss landing on your hairline— and that's the last thing you notice, before your drowsiness finally claims you, lulling you to a restful sleep in the safe embrace of your dearest 'toru.

▸ IMPORTANT NOTE: whatever u do, pls don't be as dumb as 'toru or shortie here!! if u r the one suffering from a flu or if u r the one taking care of a person who has flu, pls take the required precautions, and take care of urself and the ppl around u! love u sm!

[as a med student, it literally pained me to write these two being so stupid & careless when dealing with an illness as infectious and irritating like flu... but oh well. anything is possible in fiction, right? 🙃]

▸ masterlist

[kyber-crystal]

learning to warm cold hands || ethan hunt

summary: after a particular mission, sunshine isn’t sunshine anymore, and it worries him. (aka a cliche angst to fluff fic with the following tropes: slightly sunshine and super sunshine, who did this to you, etc)

words: ~1.4k

warnings: angst, brief descriptions of violence, ethan being overly concerned for reader, but not much else asides from that 

a/n: first ethan fic (requested by a lovely anon, thank you!!) and second mission impossible fic! btw, this fic is kind of an AU? i don't have a specific timeline for when it happens, so you can squeeze it in wherever :)

“Y/N, status update?”

“Northwest exit, 430 meters. I have one on my tail. But you know I’m Usain Bolt 2.0! I can definitely outrun this doofus, I mean, I bet my mile time is way better than his. I could've gone to the Olympics, for God’s sake. The Olympics! Where are you?”

“Stay there, I’ll come find you.”

“Ethan, wait, you can't just tell me to—“ You don’t even get to finish before a an explosive sound echoes across the narrow alleyway. You make a sharp left turn but find that you’d just hit a dead end. The door was locked. Shit. You only had one bullet left and there was a guy who was definitely at least twice your weight—and over a foot taller, too—coming after you. You wouldn't even have enough time to reload.

“Y/N. Y/N—“

You don’t get to hear the rest of what he’s saying before the static fizzes out and you lose connection.

“Hey there!” You give the beefy man who’s now mere meters away from you a cheerful smile. “Lovely weather today, don’t you think? Too bad it’s going to rain tomorrow. I love the rain but I hate lightning, because I almost got struck a year ago.”

He doesn't look too happy at this, whipping his gun out without a moment’s hesitation. You squeeze your eyes shut and pray as you slide the bullet in and he pins you against the wall by your neck. 

He brings the gun to your head, and your weapon clatters to the ground. You curse under your breath. You can feel your airways constricting and there's a searing pain working its way through you. 

“You're not going anywhere, princess.”

There's a split-second; a microsecond in which he pauses. Very briefly. You don't think, just do—you knee him in the groin, hard, and quickly grab the knife that's sheathed in your boot. 

Saying one last prayer, you plunge the blade in, not even looking to see if you'd aimed right. He falls to the floor, stumbling, and you then lunge forward to disarm him. 

Another deafening gunshot rings out just as Ethan rounds the corner and finds you there, standing over the man’s dead body like the angel of death. A pool of blood surrounds your feet, and he doesn't think he wants to know if that's yours or his. 

“You made it out alive. Good job out there.”

Glancing over at him, you nod, but don't say anything. You toss him the data files without another word, and board the plane. 

“I'm proud of you.”

More strained silence. Huh, weird… he thinks. 

“Y/N, are you alright?”

No response. Ethan repeats himself again, “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

You strap yourself into your seat and tilt your head back, digging your nails into your wrist. Anything was better than being awake right now…

“Well, someone's uncharacteristically quiet.”

Still no response. Not even a snarky quip like you'd typically reply with. No nicknames, no bickering, no random fun fact you googled on the way over here. “Did you know that a pig can digest an entire human body, bones and all? That makes me think a little extra every time we pass through the European countryside and see one of them.” 

All he gets is silence from your end, and it starts to worry him. 

That’s when he follows your gaze downwards. You're clutching the left side of your abdomen, trying your best not to make a sound. 

His blood runs cold and his eyes darken. You can feel the pure rage radiating off him. 

“Did he hurt you?”

“No…shit…Sherlock…” you croak out. 

“You're hurt.”

No response again. 

“Y/N, what the hell happened out there and who did this to you?”

More silence. 

“Y/N, what did he do to you? How did he hurt you?”

After several more questions and several more failed replies, he forcefully moves your hand aside. Your shirt is stained a deep red and there's a gaping hole much bigger than Ethan wanted to see. 

“You got shot.” He sighs. “Luther, how much longer?”

“Hour and five, but we can get there in 38.”

“Hurry.”

“On it.”

Ilsa brings him a thick roll of bandages. He tries to be as careful as possible as he disinfects and wraps up your torso, but every so often, you wince in pain. 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, just a few more minutes,” Ethan hurriedly apologizes. “Hang in there for me, okay?”

Once he's done, he sits down next to you and laces your fingers together, giving your hand a squeeze. You let out a shuddering sigh and slumped against him. 

He pretends not to notice your watering eyes, or the crescent-shaped marks in your wrist. Or the way your left foot nervously taps out the rhythm to yours and his favorite song. Or the way your tears leave faint red tracks behind as they slip down your cheeks. 

“I'm so sorry,” he repeats over and over again, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”

You don't sleep a wink that night. On any other day in Paris, you'd walk down to the farmer’s market below. You’d pick out Ethan’s favorite fruit and a new beret to have him wear jokingly, and maybe grab a croissant or two. Then you’d drag him along to the Louvre and point out each painting one by one and explain in great detail why you loved them so much. And he’d listen, because he could live purely off the sound of your voice for the rest of his life. He was never one for museums, but you loved them, and because he loved you, he started to love them, too.

But it's dark out, and after what had just happened the other day, you don't feel safe enough to leave the apartment. You tossed and turned for over half an hour before falling asleep, but jolted awake just a few minutes later, shivering violently. There was no way you were going to try and go to sleep again.  

Ethan stirs awake, rubbing his eyes to see a dark figure slipping out the door. 

He's quick to follow you up the staircase and to the rooftop. You're standing there in just a T-shirt (was that his?) and shorts, and it's freezing cold out, but you're sweating and fanning yourself. 

“Y/N?”

You turn around at the sound of his voice. “Ethan…”

“What are you doing up here? I was worried about you.” He makes his way over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder, obvious concern on his face. 

You bit your lip and started digging your nails into your wrist again. 

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Tell me what's wrong.” 

You shook your head, feeling the skin of your wrist beginning to sting. 

“Y/N, please. I want to help you. But I can’t do that when you won't talk to me, so please…tell me what’s going on.” 

“I’m so tired, Ethan,” you finally spoke after a long pause, voice hoarse. “I should’ve—I shouldn’t be here right now, I should be dead because I panicked and I…I almost died. The man, he put the gun to my head and I saw my entire life flash before my eyes. I could’ve sworn to God that the whole ‘thing’ about you seeing your life flash by like a film reel was just a myth but it wasn’t. It scared the shit out of me because I kept seeing the same thing over and over. I thought…”

“What did you see?” he asked, voice gentle. 

“I kept seeing your face. All I saw was your face.” You looked away, suddenly unable to make eye contact with him. Heat spreads across your cheeks. “I know I care about the whole damn team, but you—you’re my future, Ethan.”

He doesn’t say anything in response and instead, leans down to kiss you.

The sudden rush of warmth from his lips being pressed against yours makes you want to forget everything in the world and completely drown in him. This was home, you realized, and this is where I’m supposed to be.

And as the sun rises and spreads a brilliant pale glow over the horizon, Ethan can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was also exactly where he was meant to be. Not fighting bad guys, but rather, standing on the rooftop of a tiny building in the 4th arrondissement with you in his arms and your head against his heart. He thinks he could have a lifetime of this.

“You’re my future, too.”

tags (including those who may be interested! add yourself via this form, if you’d like): @mitchellpete @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @the-multiverse-of-fandoms @ilsastrenchcoat @joyfullyswimmingface​ 

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Three: Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 4.9k

I feel your hands on my waist before I open my eyes, your fingers trace a line down my abdomen, stopping above my pelvis. I let out a soft gasp and smile into the pillow. I feel your lips graze against my shoulder, leaving soft kisses. I feel you press your breasts against my back and your hand slinks down, grasping my length in your hand, gently fisting up and down. A soft moan escapes me, and your lips press against my neck. Your hands are soft, delicate and you pump me faster. I groan, turning my face to you, pressing my lips to yours. I turn on to my back, holding your face in my hand to deepen the kiss. 

“Mmmm.” I moan against your lips. “What a way to wake up.” 

You smile at me, pushing your body into mine. I hook your leg around my waist, kissing you deep. You continue to pump me with your hand while grinding against me; I can feel the wetness between your legs. I move myself on top of you; bringing your nipple into my mouth, squeezing your breasts and you moan softly. I grip your ass, kissing you deeply and I rub my hand against your clit and your opening. I groan loudly and push my cock inside you. You let out a gasp and I smile against your lips. It had been like this since yesterday; the snowstorm had finally let up this morning, but the plows had yet to come down the streets. I planned on shoveling out your car, but ever since we made love, we haven’t been able to stop. It was Christmas Eve, and I don’t think I’ve been sober for a holiday in ten years. I feel a small ache in my chest, and I pull away from your lips for a second to look at you. Your fingers curl through my hair, and I run my hand along your face, your jaw. I slowly rock my hips and your head falls back in pleasure; I continue to stare at you. How could this be real? How was it possible that fifteen years later we had found each other again? Over a letter? My eyes flutter close, and I bury my face in your shoulder, thrusting faster, you feel so good. 

I remember us back then, how young we were, full of life. There was so much passion, even when we fought. It was always the little things we fought about, how you knew how to get under my skin, and I knew exactly what buttons to push.  We had left Steve’s house after a house party. Well, you had left, because I was an asshole, and I had chased after you. It was pouring out. It was the middle of summer, but the rain was cold. 

“Baby, come on! I’m sorry!” I chase after you, stumbling over my own feet because I’m a little drunk. You’re drunk too, but you know how to handle yourself because you are a fucking champ. 

“You’re sorry.” You scoff, you’re picking up speed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. You’re always fucking sorry!” 

“Stop, stop, stop.” I’m able to catch up with you and stop in front of you. The rain soaks the both of us, your black dress stuck to your skin, I could tell you were shivering. “You’re shivering, come on. Let’s go home.” 

“I’m not going home with you; I’d rather sleep outside.” You push past me, and I groan. 

“You’re seriously making a big deal out of nothing.” 

“Nothing?!” You turn towards me so fast it startles me, and I stumble backwards. “You told Steve that I’m a better fuck when I’m high!” 

“Baby, I was kidding!” I say, trying not to laugh. “It was a stupid joke. I didn’t mean it, I meant to tell him when you’re high, you get wild. And the sex is great—"

“Oh, because that makes it better! Get away from me.” You scoff, shoving me away. “I know he’s our best friend, but it would be nice if you kept our sex life private, that shits embarrassing.” 

I’m getting annoyed now, I was wet, cold, I felt like a drowned fucking rat. “Oh, but it’s okay for you to tell Robin I like getting fingered in the ass?” 

You stop walking and turn towards me. “She wasn’t supposed to say anything, and I was drunk when I told her that.” 

“I’m drunk now!” I almost laugh. “Baby, do you hear yourself? This is so stupid.” 

“You told Steve I was better at fucking when I was under the influence! That is not the fucking same! That’s YOU saying that I’m boring when I’m sober. That’s fucked up.” Your wet hair is sticking to your face, the rain is getting heavier, and I can see how cold you are. I’m able to grip your upper arms and you tense under my touch. 

“Sweetheart, you are the girl of my fucking dreams. Sober, not sober, you rock my fucking world.” You stare at me, your eyes darting from my eyes to my mouth. You lean in like you’re about to kiss me. 

“Liar.” You whisper under your breath and pull yourself out of my grip, turning away from me. I roll my eyes and groan. You’re walking faster away from me but still talking. “You can’t get shit past me. I may be fucking you now, but I’ve been your best friend since diapers, so I know when you’re full of shit.” 

“So, this is just what we’re doing? Just fucking? Nothing else?” I’m angry now, how dare you think that. 

You turn towards me, walking backwards. “I don’t know, you tell me Eddie. I feel like you have a fucking magnet to my vagina everytime you see me since we started having sex! I feel like that’s all you want from me.” 

“That’s not all I want from you, are you being serious right now?” I stare at you with my mouth open. “You’ve known me your whole life and you think it’s just the sex for me?” 

“What else could it be?” You sneer at me, and I shake my head, I’m pissed now. 

“Fine, think that. I’m not fucking stopping you.” Thunder booms in the distance and you storm away from me. We go opposite directions; you head towards your house, and I go to my trailer. Wayne was working another overnight and I was grateful I didn’t have to have a conversation. The rain was hard against my face as I run the few steps to the trailer. I run inside, the screen door slamming behind me. I pull my wet t-shirt over my head and toss it towards my room and light up a cigarette. My hair drips onto my skin and I grab a towel, squeezing out the wetness from my curls. The cigarette dangles from my lips and I almost choke on the smoke when I hear the screen door open and close, and you’re standing there, soaking from head to toe; your hair all over your face, your skin damp. You’re glowering at me, your chest heaving like you ran here. I put out the cigarette in the sink as we stare at each other. I walk towards you slowly and your eyes are still fixed on me like a wild animal. I grip your upper arms, and you try to move away from me, but I hold you in place. My mouth is inches from yours, and you sneer at me. 

“I really can’t stand you.” 

“Then why are you here?” I whisper to you; I tease my lips over yours and you groan. You pull me towards you by my hair, and we end up crashing into the kitchen counter. I hoist you up by your thighs and you kiss me desperately, wrapping your legs around me tight. You pull away from me again and are still glowering at me. 

“I really hate you.” 

“Yeah? Why don’t you show me how much you hate me?” I crash my lips against yours again, and your hands find my waist, pulling me closer. My hands go in between your legs, and you moan loudly. I push your underwear to the side; they were soaked from the rain and from you. You push me away by my chest, your hands in a hurry to undo my belt. I lean my palms against the cabinets next to your head, watching as you unzip me and pull down my pants, exposing my hardness. You kiss me again, pulling me towards you by my ass. I can see your nipples through the wet fabric of your dress, they peaked so nicely, I lean down and nip them through the fabric. You gasp and hold the back of my head, my fingers tickle your clit, and you moan against me, grabbing my dick. I scoot you towards me, holding your face in my hand. Your head falls back as I push myself inside you, and I groan. I fuck you against the cabinets, feeling every inch of your walls and feel your fingers claw my back. 

“I hate you.” You moan. “Fuck-I…” 

“Ungh, you feel so fucking good. Hate me all you want, baby, you’re not stopping me.” I moan when you grab my ass, pushing me deeper. You kiss me hungrily, opening your mouth wide, fighting my tongue with yours. I slam into you harder, your body thumps against the cabinet. “Mmmmm, like that baby?” 

“Fuck…yes…ohhhhh…” you bite my shoulder and I gasp, rolling my hips faster. The squelching of your wetness and the sounds of my balls hitting your cunt as I slam harder sends a blaze of euphoria through my entire soul. 

“Ohhh, fuck. Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.” I groan against your shoulder, and I feel you move your hips with me. “Fuck yeah baby, just like that…unghhhh.” 

“Cum inside me, baby. I want my pussy to swallow you whole.” You say, staring deep into my eyes. I smile at you, my thrusts getting sloppy and I feel your pussy clench around my cock and you’re screaming. And I mean SCREAMING my fucking name and it sends me into a fucking spiral of madness and lust that I explode my entire load into your pussy, still fucking you. Not stopping for breath, your nails cut up my back as another orgasm cries out of you and you’re holding on to me while I hug your waist tightly. Our sounds loud and pornographic and it feels like the entire trailer is shaking. I pull myself back to look at you, moving your wet hair from your eyes. Your lips are parted as your breath comes out in waves. I hold your chin with my fingers, gently grazing my lips over yours.   

“Do you still hate me?” I whisper. 

“Always.” You say, licking my lips. 

I groan, smiling. “Good.” 

Down, down, down… I can hear them outside my door listening. They think I can’t hear them but I’m smarter than them. They’re trying to taunt me. They’re trying to break inside my head and feast on my brain. 

Both my arms sting as I crawl on my hands and knees underneath the windows. 

They try to mock your voice, getting me to open the door. You wouldn’t be here. You don’t even know where I live. What would you think of me right now? I wonder. Crawling on all fours, hiding from these imaginary creatures that are trying to feast on me. 

It’s not real. 

I’m not real, so they’re not real. 

We have two weeks off before we hit the last five cities of the tour. I’m in my cabin, in upstate New York. 

I bet these creatures followed me from the woods after my walk. 

What if Gareth sent these things? He hates me now, I’m just a junkie in his eyes, who still knows how to put on a good show so he can suck my dick. 

I had met my dealer yesterday; I was low on cash, he was willing to give me a discount if he could suck me off, so I let him, and then he wanted me to fuck him, so I did that too. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter anymore. If I got something out of it, I didn’t care what I put my dick in. 

They’re chatting outside my door now. I need to stop the noise. I crawl to my coffee table, blindly searching for a needle. 

I find one, and my stash, loading up the chamber with the drugs. I go to the bathroom to look in the mirror, my veins in both my arms are fucking sore, so I find a good one in my neck. My eyes flutter close, and I smile, awkwardly stumbling back to my living room. I couldn’t even feel the sweet burn anymore, it was almost like the burn was just built into my now. 

I sit on the couch. 

It’s quiet again. 

Thankfully.

I can’t handle the noise again. 

“Generals gathered in their masses…just like witches at black masses, evil minds that plot destruction…” I sing the beginning of War Pigs by Black Sabbath under my breath as my head lulls back against the couch. My phone buzzes in my pocket; I slowly take it out of my pocket and put it to my ear. 

“Eddie?” It was Ted.

“Did I miss curfew again?” I say and a stupid laugh escapes me.

“Jesus Eddie.” He says quietly. “Are you by yourself?”

“Nope, they’re outside my door. I think they’re asleep, they’re quiet now.” I tell him, curling my legs up to my chest.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“I think Gareth sent them; they think I can’t hear them.” 

“Eddie, I’m coming to you. I’ll be there in an hour.” He says, he sounds panicked, then I begin to panic.

“No! Teddy! If they see you, they’ll hurt you! I can’t let them hurt you.” I feel tears spring to my eyes. “Please, man. I can’t lose you too.” 

“Just stay put, buddy. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay, okay.” I nod into the phone, and he hangs up. Part of me knew that whatever those things were weren’t real, and it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but they felt real to me. I know I didn’t just do heroin tonight; I think ketamine too. Cocaine? I had to protect Ted; he has done so much for me. I get up from the couch, taking the metal baseball bat I keep near my door. I swing open my front door, the hinges squeaking, and I stare out into the darkness of the woods. “Come on mother fuckers!” I yell out. “Think you can fuck with me?!”

I hear my voice echo around me, and all that talks back is the silence. I laugh, twirling the bat in my hands. “That’s what I thought, pussies!” 

I hear something skitter on the grass in front of my porch and I yelp, falling back on my ass, the bat rolling away from me. I scramble to my feet and run back in the cabin, shutting the door and locking it. I slide down to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest, I keep my eyes on the window, I have to look for Ted’s headlights, to make sure I can get him in safely. They weren’t gonna hurt him, I’d rather die than have something hurt him. 

I see the headlights reflect off the window, and I quickly stand up. I hear his footfalls go up the wooden steps of the porch and I open the door. “Get in, get in!” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him in, he stumbles into my living room. 

“Eddie, what the fuck?” He says, staring at me with wide eyes. 

I turn to him, and I whisper. “They’re out there.” 

“Eddie, there’s no one out there.” He tells me gently. 

“There is, there is.” My eyes are wide, I can feel it. I can also feel my tears on my cheeks. “They live in the woods.” 

Ted grasps me by my forearms. “I think…I think you’re gonna have to take it easy the next few days.” 

I stare at him, and nod. “Yeah…yeah, I need to rest. I need to…I feel like I’m going insane. They’re not out there?” 

“No, son.” He tells me quietly. “Where is your stuff?” 

“B-back bedroom and there.” I tell him, pointing to the coffee table where my needles were, my empty bag of drugs, and a few loose pills. He takes everything off the table, and I shiver, watching him walk away. “Where are you going?” My voice sounds younger, childlike.

“I’ll be right back, buddy. Just sit down. I’ll fix us something to eat.” I nod at him again and sit on my couch. Was this what my life was now? Constant paranoia, fearful of what walks outside. I look down at my arms, even with all my tattoos, you could see how black and blue my arms were. The track marks went all the way up towards my wrists, my arms looked skeletal. When was the last time I ate? 

Did people really still enjoy our shows? How could they not tell how fucked up I was every show? We were still up on the charts; Rolling Stone wanted another interview after the tour. 

I run my hands through my hair and shiver. This was madness. I was a fucking madman. 

The next morning, I wake up, feeling an ache in my stomach. No no no no. I try to move from the couch but every single muscle in my body feels stiff. I groan loudly, was I dying? Was this death? 

I look at the coffee table, none of my stash was there. I grit my teeth, trying to sit up. 

“Ted!” I yell, my throat was raw. 

I see his form come into the living room; his hair was tied up in a bun. I try to sit up but a wave of a nausea hits me. 

“You’re finally awake.” He says, putting a mug of coffee in front of me. The smell alone makes me dry heave. 

“What?” I hold my stomach, and grimace. “Fuck why is it so cold in here?” 

“You’ve been sleeping for two days.” Ted tells me and my eyes snap to his. Realization hits my gut, and I start to remember a few days ago. I told him to get rid of my stuff, that I needed a rest. 

No. No. No. No. 

“Where did you put it?” I ask, my teeth grind as it feels like my stomach is being clawed at. 

“It’s gone, Eddie. I did what you asked me to do.” He stares at me, and my eyes narrow. 

“Well, I was fucking lying!” I groan out in pain, my body folds back on the couch. “FUCK. This hurts, Teddy this hurts so bad.” I feel sweat pool behind my neck and my joints feel locked in place. “I need it, man. It’s the only thing that will make this pain stop.” 

“It’s gone, Eddie. I’m sorry.” He tells me, leaning back in his seat. 

“Fuck you!” I growl and tears spring to my eyes. “Why did you come here?!” 

“Because you were fucking losing it!” He yells at me. “Saying there were these things outside, taunting you, that Gareth sent them. Eddie, you’re rotting your brain with this shit!” 

A painful groan and sob escape me, and I gag. He brings a large cooking pot over to me and I vomit into it. My insides felt like they were on fire, nothing I did was making me comfortable. I clench my fingers against my stomach, my body was trembling. 

“I’ll give you Motrin for the pain.” 

“Fuck that!” I scream at him. “Ughhhhhhh. Fuck. Teddy, please, please I need something stronger.” 

“No.” He says, no emotion in his tone. 

I grit my teeth. “Fuuuuck you! Please, please man. I just need it to stop.” 

He leans back in the chair, lighting up a cigarette, just watching me. I wanted to fly off that couch and strangle him, but everything hurt. I was stuck there. 

I had passed out, the pain getting to be too much. I had taking off my clothes in the middle of the night and was just in my boxers. Ted was sitting in the recliner chair; some stupid fucking show was on the television. I had slid off the couch on my hands and knees, grunting as I crawled towards him. “I need…the fucking drugs, Teddy.” My voice is hoarse, and my muscles feel stiff. My head pushes against his thigh and he holds me back by my shoulders. I groan angrily; my palms were sweating as I tried to force my way through him. Tears pool from my eyes as another wave of pain hits my joints. 

“Please.” I sob. “I’ll do anything…I just want this pain to stop.” I feel his eyes on me, and I gaze up at him. 

He holds my face in his hands. “No.” 

I collapse onto my back, my chest heaving with sobs. “Fuck you, man. Why are you doing this to me?” He doesn’t respond. “Answer me!!!” 

I don’t even know what day it is. 

But I want to die. I want these withdrawals to take me out. I almost shit myself tonight. Ted had to drag me to the bathtub. I couldn’t stop crying; it was too much. 

I think I was saying your name in my sleep. Ted kept asking me who you were, and I finally said, “the girl that I loved and lost.” He said he never remembers me ever talking about you, and I tell him that it hurts too much to talk about. 

The shaking has stopped, my bones don’t feel like they’re breaking anymore. I still want to die, I’m feeling everything. 

“Get up. Take a shower.” Ted tells me, nudging my shoulder. I turn away from him, curling my legs up to my chest. “Eddie. Get. Up.” He shakes my arm again; I slap his arm away. 

“Get the fuck away from me.” I grumble. 

“You’re acting like a child. Get up, man.” He says, sighing loudly. I don’t answer him, and before I know it, he’s throwing me over his shoulder. I’m kicking and screaming all the way to the bathroom. I’m surprised he can carry me. Well, I’m sure I don’t weigh much. He plops me down in the shower and turns it on, the water bites my skin and I scream at him. 

“You’re a fucking asshole!” I scream at him, trying to get out, but the warm water against my skin feels good and I stop. 

“Clean yourself up. You’re starting to stink.” He tells me, throwing a washcloth at me. 

“I could fire your ass, you know.” I snap at him, standing under the stream, my hair soaking. “Are you gonna stand there and watch me like I’m a fucking mental patient? Get out of here.” 

“Fire me all you want, I’m not leaving.” He says, closing the shower curtain and I hear him sit on the lid of the toilet. 

“Stubborn prick.” I grumble, squirting shampoo onto my hand and putting it through my hair. I could feel how gross and greasy my hair was, it felt stiff. 

“I may be a stubborn prick, but you should feel lucky that I’m here.” 

“Yeah, so lucky.” I scoff. “Once we’re back on the road I will find a way to get high again.” 

“Okay, that’s your choice.” He sounds like he’s flipping through the magazine. 

“Yeah, it is my choice. This wasn’t.” I peak my head behind the curtain to glare at him. 

“You told me you needed a rest. Probably a good thing, wouldn’t want you worrying about little creatures crawling into your bed at night.” He says, meeting my eyes and smirking. 

“Oh, fuck you.” I close the curtain forcefully, washing my body until it was raw. I’m able to actually look at my arms. They were scabbed over; the bruises had a yellow tint to them. 

“Who’s the girl?” Ted asks me. 

“What?” I wipe the soap from my eyes. 

“The girl you’ve been moaning about in your sleep.” 

I pause. I feel my stomach clench and my heart ache, I let the shower rinse the shampoo from my hair. “No one.” I snap. 

“Doesn’t sound like no one.” He says, and I hear him light up a cigarette. 

I sigh. “Someone I knew, back in Hawkins.” 

“Girlfriend?” 

It takes me a minute to answer him. “More than that.” I mutter. 

“What happened?” 

“Jesus, Ted. I don’t want to talk about it.” I turn off the shower and open the curtain, squeezing the water out of my hair. “Hand me a towel.” 

“Say the magic words.” I hear the arrogance in his voice. 

“Hand me a fucking towel, please.” 

He pulls a towel off the hook and throws it at me. I dry myself off, wrapping the towel around my waist and I walk towards the adjoining bedroom. I toss on a long-sleeved t-shirt and pull on a pair of dark jeans. It was early spring, but up here, it still felt like winter. I throw on some thick socks and take my cigarettes off my dresser. The smell of bacon hits my nostrils and my stomach rumbles painfully. I really don’t remember when the last time I ate was. I walk to the kitchen, seeing Ted with a dish towel over his shoulder, and plates of bacon, sausage. He was making eggs now. 

There was coffee in the pot, I move past him to grab a mug and pour myself a cup. I poured half the sugar into the mug; I still felt shitty, but the shower had helped some. 

I sit down at the table, lighting up a cigarette, pulling my leg up to my chest. The Eagles played softly on the radio, and I close my eyes, inhaling on the cigarette. I jump when Ted places the plate in front of me and I glare at him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that too loud?” He asks me sarcastically. “Why don’t you stop glowering at me and eat the damn food.” 

I scoff, sipping my coffee and biting into my meal. The taste and aroma of the breakfast fills all my senses and I have to control myself from shoving all of it into my gullet. 

Fuck. 

I forgot he could cook. 

I mean, breakfast was easy to cook but he used to be a chef so, he puts his own twist on it. I was full once I was done, and Ted had given me two Motrin which I reluctantly took. The rest of the day went by surprisingly smoothly, I had written a few songs with the acoustic while Ted sat in the recliner chair, watching his dumb television show. 

I decided to fuck with him the following day, to pass the time. I had some coins in my pocket, his opened coke can was in the cup holder next to him. I put the coin in between my two fingers and lined it up just right, launching the coin right into the mouth of the can. It splashed a little on him and he glares at me. 

“Lucky shot.” 

I take another coin, and the same thing happens, I smile at him. He shakes the soda drippings off his hand. 

“Don’t fuck with me, kid.” He grumbles and I launch another coin into the can, and I laugh. He throws his shoe at me, and I laugh louder. I’m able to get a smirk out of him, and we go back to sharing the comfortable silence. 

Evening approaches, and he had made us some steaks on the grill. It was a warm night, so we sat out on the back porch, the fire pit going as we smoked cigarettes. I lean back in my seat, staring up at the stars. My body still hurt, but this was the first time in a long time I felt content. 

“The girl you heard me talking about was my first love.” I tell him quietly. “And my only love.” 

“What happened?” He asks me gently, inhaling on his cigarette. 

“I happened. Well, my stupidity happened.” I sigh, letting the smoke billow from my nostrils. “We grew up together, did everything together. Her dad had died when she was a baby, her mom was a drunk. My mom was dead, and my dad was in jail, so we only had each other. And Wayne. Wayne made sure we were taken care of the best he could. We got older, and we fell in love.” I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and I light up another. “This was a fucking insane kind of love. A lot of passion, a lot of arguing, a lot of laughing. She drove me crazy, but not as much as I drove her crazy. When I started to realize how deep my feelings were for her, I got scared. So I left.”

“Why?” He asks me. 

“I ask myself that every day, man.” I chuckle. “Doesn’t matter now. She’s probably happily married with kids somewhere. And I’m here, detoxing from heroin in a cabin in the woods.” 

“She sounds like she was one hell of girl.” Ted says with a smile. 

“Yeah, she was.” I smile back at him. 

That was the first time in a long time I felt at ease with myself. That was also the first time in a long time Ted, and I had sat down with each other and just shared comfortable silence. 

Should’ve known that I was going to fuck that all up again. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* a/n: hi! I know it's short, but I'm just preparing you for the next couple of parts. Fair warning it's...well, you'll see. *insert evil laugh here* My son is having surgery on Thursday to get tubes in his ears so I will leave you with this, and maybe about a week for the next installment, maybe sooner. Who knows?! Again, I love you guys. <3

[multifandombitxh]

Holy Ghost

Pairing: Ghost x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff(?)

Warnings: Mentions of g*nshots, blood, bullet wounds, suggestive themes, adult language

Summary: After escaping the firefight with Graves and the Shadows, Y/N doesn't quite make it out unscathed. Ghost does his best to tend to their wounds as they wait for Soap to join them at the church.

A/N: I told you I'd fuckin do it again. Taking requests for this man, working on some fluff as well :)

18+ MINORS DNI

"Just get here alive," Ghost commanded with his head tilted downward, his voice echoing from your own comms. You were busy patting down a bullet wound- barely grazed, but enough to be trouble. Blood was drawing lazy rivers down your bare arm, pooling at your fingertips and dripping to the floor.

Graves' men had good aim, you could give them that much. But not good enough.

"Soap's still out there," Ghost said to you over his shoulder. You responded with a nod.

"That's good," You replied, wincing as you began removing the soaked fabric from your wound. You'd been applying pressure for what felt like ages and it just wasn't enough. When red bubbled and gushed out of the gash you grunted, biting down on your lower lip and tossing the saturated scrap to the ground. "We need him if we're gonna finish this."

"Still bleeding?" He asked.

"Like a stuck pig," You said with a small laugh, tearing another piece of fabric from your shirt you'd decided had run its course. When it becomes life or death, things like walking around in a tank top are incredibly trivial. Your gear was sitting in a pile in the corner of the tower, some of Ghost's accompanying it.

"That's quite the biohazard," Ghost quipped, eyeing the bloody rag you'd just discarded. "Had your Hep B shots recently, by chance?"

"If you're not gonna help, you could at least shut up," You snapped, rolling your eyes and ripping another chunk of material from your shirt. You folded it into a square as best as you could and hovered over your wound, mentally preparing yourself for the pain. Holding your breath you pressed it against your skin, squeezing your eyes shut and releasing the air in your lungs.

"You're not applying enough pressure," Ghost declared, sounding very sure of himself. You weren't sure when he'd crossed the room to stand beside you, but whenever he did it, he was quiet as a mouse. "Here, I've got ya."

Ghost's gloved hand closed over yours before you could ask what he was doing, his fingers clamping down on your skin and his palm pressing hard into the wound. You had to admit, he was definitely more well equipped to apply pressure to a wound, but it didn't make you feel any less weak.

At the same time, it also hurt more.

"You'll need to share your weights routine with me sometime," You joked, keeping your gaze to the floor below. "I'll never understand how a person can gain that much muscle."

"That's an odd way to dish out a compliment," Ghost replied, a lilt to his voice. "But I'll take it."

Silence fell over the room, the sounds of rain pattering against the stained-glass windows of the church giving the whole place an eerie feel. Feeling yourself grow lightheaded, you pressed your palm to your forehead, groaning softly and blinking several times. A sick feeling settled in your gut, and for a moment you thought you were going to puke all over the floor. Next, sweat broke out over your skin in a sheen, and your eyelids felt heavy just to keep open. You couldn't possibly have lost that much blood, could you?

"Still with me?" Ghost asked.

"Physically, maybe."

"Mentally?"

"Mentally, I'm in Tahiti."

Ghost chuckled at your remark, a sound you'd never heard before. A small smile formed on your face, but then you felt your knees buckle, forcing you to stumble forward in order to catch yourself. He was quick to bring you back upright, the hand that wasn't keeping your blood inside you gripped your waist and hoisted you upwards.

"Can't have that," He sighed, glancing around the room for anywhere to help you sit down, but there was nothing. "Right, I'm gonna help you down, you just follow my lead, yeah?"

"Sure," You nodded, not fully aware of what was happening. Ghost released your bicep and knelt down, hooking his arm under your knees and pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You did your best to hold onto him as he lowered you both to the floor, keeping you in his lap as he went down. If you hadn't been a bit off from the blood loss, you probably would have questioned him about it.

Instead, you welcomed the embrace, leaning into his chest and letting out a soft sigh as you settled in. More blood trickled from your arm and anxiety finally set in. It wasn't stopping, even with Ghost's help. Sensing your tension, he caught your attention by leaning forward to whisper against your forehead.

"It's slowed down a bit," He reassured, reapplying the compress to the inflicted area, using his arm that was keeping you upright. His other arm was lazily draped over your legs, fingers balled into a fist near your bent knees. "This oughta help."

"At least we're in a church," You said dryly, "Quick funeral. Maybe Soap can conduct. You think he knows any bible verses?"

"Don't even joke about it," Ghost warned, his tone firm. "You'll be fine, just sit still."

"Sorry, Lieutenant," You said, dropping the lightheartedness for a moment to properly apologize.

Soap came through on comms again, as if stating his name summoned him. Ghost talked him through how to craft himself some weapons and defenses, and you felt bad that he was out there all on his own with no help at all. Thankfully, Ghost wasn't an amateur, and was able to assist to a small degree.

"Think he'll make it alright?" You asked after he finished his guerilla warfare lesson with Soap.

"He doesn't have a choice," Ghost replied, "He either makes it here in one piece, or he dies."

You shifted uncomfortably in his lap. "You're quite the optimist, sir."

"You can feign ignorance all you want," Ghost grunted, adjusting you to sit more comfortably on his thigh. "Doesn't change the circumstances."

"You have to pull out your Thesaurus for that one?" You asked jokingly, smiling to yourself. "Those are some big words, Lieutenant. You know they don't pay us to be scholars."

"They hardly pay us at all, Y/N."

"And yet, here we are."

A few minutes passed and your upper arm was starting to ache, the wound pulsating under Ghost's unrelenting hold. He hadn't let up for a second, keeping so much pressure on the spot you were sure you'd have bruises where his fingers dug into the skin. Rolling your neck, you softly moaned at the satisfying crack, then let out a small sigh.

"Enjoying yourself?" Ghost asked simply.

"Oh, yeah, I've always fantasized about being trapped in an old, dusty church with my Lieutenant, bleeding to death in his lap while our friends have been kidnapped or hunted down," You said in a monotone voice. "Really gets me goin'."

"Glad I could make it a reality," He scoffed, "Doesn't take much to please you then, does it?"

"I'm a simple creature, sir," You replied.

"I'll keep that in mind."

At long last, he finally released his grip on your arm, leaning forward to eye the damage. The wound had finally stopped gushing, thank the heavens, but was so caked in dried blood that it was hard to make out exactly how bad it was. Clicking his tongue, he turned your arm over in his hand to get a different angle before releasing it altogether.

"Sit tight," He said, gently sliding you off of him and standing. His knees popped as he rose from the floor, but you were too busy surveying your bloody arm to make any jokes about him being a grumpy old man. Just as you suspected, several fingertip sized spots were dotting the space around the gash, red and blue and angry. Smudged blood hid them a bit, but it was clear as day that he'd left several marks.

Ghost rifled through his bag for a bit before pulling something free, turning it over in his hands. He nodded to himself, tossing his bag to the side and returning his attention to you.

"You're not gonna like this," He warned, turning around to reveal a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You shivered at the sight of it, knowing exactly what was coming next. "But I can't have you dying of an infection on me. Shitty way to go."

Cursing the Shadows who did this to you, your nervous eyes found the ceiling as Ghost approached. Your back was pressed flush against the brick wall behind you, and you took several deep breaths. You heard the sound of him unscrewing the cap of the bottle and mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable sting. He sprayed some of it on his own hands, rubbing them together before looking back at you.

"Eyes on me, yeah?" He said, his voice low and soft. You squeezed your eyes shut once before turning your attention to Ghost, who was kneeling in front of you with one hand on your thigh and the other clutching the alcohol. His gaze was intense, but still, you nodded, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

He didn't warn you before he began pouring the liquid over your arm. Despite your efforts to remain still and silent, your body lurched forward against your will, a strangled, drawn out groan rumbling in your chest. Lightning shot through your whole body as the clear fluid coated your wound, your nerves screaming and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. The burning sensation overpowered everything, and for a moment, your vision went white.

Instinctively, your hand flew up to stop the pain, closing around Ghost's wrist to try and pull the bottle away. Grunting, he pried your hand free and forced it to the side, pressing your hand down into the floor as hard as he could. His hand engulfed your own, covering it with ease as he pinned it down beside you. Wriggling against his hold, you let out a soft, unintentional whine, squeezing your eyes shut tight as another wave of alcohol flooded your wound.

"I know," Ghost reassured, "Focus on me, Y/N."

"It fucking hurts," You croaked, cringing at the weak tone in your voice.

"Amputation and sepsis hurt worse," He replied, eyeing his work for a moment before returning his attention to you.

Considering just how much blood and dust and bacteria had invaded the slice in your arm, Ghost was thorough, squeezing the bottle to control the flow. It felt like years, and you couldn't take it any longer. A strangled cry ripped its way out of your throat, your head falling forward and your chest heaving. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, your limbs locked up and your brain in survival mode.

A loud crash echoed through the church and you both jumped, two voices filtering in from the foyer below. Just as they burst through the front doors, your anguish was just starting to manifest through groans and sobs, but Ghost was quick to shut it down. The hand that had been keeping you still quickly clamped over your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that could come out.

"Shadows," He stated, "You need to relax or they'll find us."

Breathing hard through your nose, you maintained eye contact with your lieutenant, your eyes misting over as the pain finally started to subside. He placed the bottle on the floor nearby, then used his now free hand to grip the back of your neck. With one hand covering your mouth and the other drawing you closer, Ghost stared straight into your soul.

To try and bring yourself back down to Earth, you gripped the front of his shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric and clinging to it like your life depended on it. Ghost drew in a sharp breath as you latched on, his eyes widening for a moment before narrowing again. It looked as if he was concentrating hard on something, searching your eyes and quickly glancing down at his hand that covered your mouth every few seconds.

The look in his eyes was intense, and the hand on the back of your neck felt foreign, but welcomed. Any closer and your foreheads would have been touching, and for a split moment, you thought about doing just that. It wasn't the first time you felt compelled to show some form of affection toward him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Ghost slowly removed his hand from your face, fingers gently sliding over the skin of your cheeks and jaw. Your mouth fell open as you sucked in shaky gulps of air, trying to stay as quiet as humanly possible. Both of you were caught in some sort of trance; the world around you falling away until all that remained was Ghost and his prying eyes.

Not that you minded.

"Keep lookin' at me like that and I'll give you something else to scream about," Ghost whispered, looking shocked at himself as the words left his mouth. You shivered involuntarily, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

In that moment, he was no longer your superior. He was just a man in a mask with dreamy eyes and a velvety smooth voice that sent your heart soaring. It didn't matter that the Shadows were just downstairs, or that your arm was stinging to high hell, or that you were stuck in that stupid church until Soap could find his way to you. All that mattered was Ghost and his tempting words.

"They'd find us," You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper.

"They'd get a nice view before they die, then."

The Shadows noisily searched the church below, their voices traveling up to the tower. Windows shattered and benches were turned over, echoing throughout the building. It took what felt like centuries, but after a while, they finally gave up on their search and exited the building. It wasn't until the sounds of their boots became distant that either of you moved, but once they were gone, Ghost acted quickly.

As quickly as he could, he all but ripped his mask up enough to reveal his hidden mouth. You didn't have long to memorize what it looked like, because before you knew it, his lips were on yours in a heated kiss. The hand on your neck deepened the kiss as Ghost tilted his head to the side, lips aggressive and harsh against your own. You happily returned the gesture, sighing into his mouth and letting your eyes flutter shut. Your shaking hands reached up to cup both sides of his face, adrenaline coursing through you until your body felt light as a feather.

The moment your hands connected with his skin, he let out a sound you couldn't quite place- some sort of growl mixed deliciously with a moan. Boldness bloomed in your chest at his reaction and you let your hands wander downward on their own, taking note of how tense he became wherever they went. His heaving chest, the center of his ribcage, his hard stomach, his abdomen-

"Careful," He warned slowly, breaking the kiss to mutter in your ear.

"I thought this is what you wanted," You replied, withdrawing your hands.

"You have no fucking clue how badly I want you right now," He hissed, his hands abandoning your neck to grip your waist. "If it were up to me, I'd already have you underneath me on this filthy floor, trust me, love."

"What's stopping you?" You asked, anticipation building in your gut and his words going straight to your lower half.

"I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but the good Lord doesn't need to see what I'm gonna do to you."

"Should I consider this a confessional, sir?" You asked jokingly. "Usually there'd be a wall between us."

"There's something between us, that's for sure," Ghost quipped, his mouth turning up in a small smile.

"Lt?" Soap's voice startled you both, but Ghost was quick to respond, immediately regaining his composure.

"Go ahead, Soap," He said into the box on his chest.

"Hate to ruin such a lovely moment between friends, but if you could at least turn off your comms, the Shadows and I would appreciate it."

Your stomach dropped like a rock and you covered your mouth with your hand, eyes wide. Ghost cleared his throat and held your gaze as he spoke to Soap again.

"Message received," He said in a flat voice. This time, he made sure to flip the microphone switch, then returned his full attention to you.

"I'll wring his neck if he ever mentions it," Ghost declared, the pad of his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "Let's finish cleaning you up, yeah?"

[sillygooseassociation]

Lucky Charm

Request: Would you write about surprising Ted with lingerie or in one of his shirts or jerseys when he gets home from travelling? 😈

Description: You welcome Ted home from his win against Liverpool, a welcome he will excitedly accept.

Warning: smut, oral (f receiving)

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

-

Ted’s head snapped up as soon as his chin hit his chest, letting out a squeak as he startles awake. Beard closes his book, using a finger to keep his spot, “What’s up, coach?” Ted rubs his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath, “Nothin’ coach. Just don’t wanna fall asleep so close to home, y’know?” The right-hand man nods in understanding, opening his book once again as Ted glances out the window, watching the fields turn into buildings as they enter the city. 

Jumping a little at the buzz of his phone, Ted scoffs at himself and how tired he feels, though his exhaustion doesn’t last long when he opens his messages. 

Y/N 😍❤️: Congrats on your win, Coach Lasso. Hope you’re not too celebrated out xxx [image attached]

Ted checks over his shoulder at lightning speed when he opens the accompanying image, not wanting to withstand any teasing but also not okay with anyone seeing his girl. He knows the photo isn’t the most revealing, all parts are covered, yet he would have to watch pigs fly during a cold day in hell while it rains cats and dogs before he lets any eyes but his own view that sacred photo.

Looking back down once he knows the coast is clear, Ted’s eyes widen as his face reddens and his pants tighten slightly. With the sheets of your shared bed as the background, the posed photo focuses on your body from the neck down, a Richmond jersey hugging your body, stopping just below where your hips meet your bare legs. Ted takes in a deep breath, staring at the expanse of your thighs before tracing back up to the jersey, hardening even more at the knowledge that the back of your jersey has his last name plastered on it. 

After an eon of a bouncing leg, a stared-at phone, and a leaking head, Ted, who normally waited for all the players to exit the bus before he did, ran off the vehicle, backpack on his shoulder as he yelled something about an upset stomach and seeing the team on Monday. 

One more eon later (each “eon” being about 15 minutes in reality), Ted fished his keys out of his pocket before struggling to get his key in the lock, his hands shaking with excitement. Toeing his shoes off at the door and hanging up his puffer, Ted breathes out a sigh of relief as he heads to the bedroom, eager for release after 30 minutes of his cock leaking and not softening at all.

Opening the door, Ted lets out a low groan at the sight of you in the middle of the bed, hand under the bottom of the jersey as you squeeze your eyes shut, small gasps leaving your lips, “You getting yourself ready for me, beautiful?”

Opening your eyes to see Ted moving towards the bed, discarding his clothes as he nears, a wide smile shows on your face, “I’m always ready for you coach Lasso.” Ted moans in contentment at the title, taking off his pants so he is left in only his underwear, standing at the bottom of the bed. You lift yourself onto your knees, staring at him as you remove your hand, bringing up your glistening fingers so that it is in between you two, “Should I take care of this or would you like to?”

Ted takes one more step forward, knees hitting the side of the mattress as his hand grasps your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth as he takes your three fingers in his mouth, sucking on them as he maintains eye contact with you before closing his eyes and throwing his head back as he lets out a guttural moan. You take the opportunity to inch closer, throwing yourself into his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso, leaving a kiss on his Adam’s apple. Licking from the base of his neck to below his ear, you breathily give him your congratulations, “Very nice job on your win today, baby.”

Looking back at you, Ted’s eyes are blown with lust as he rakes in the image of you in his jersey, “Thanks, darling. Only happened because of my lucky charm.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he pushes you up the bed, laying you down on your back as he slots himself in between your legs, “Your lucky charm?”

Ted nods affirmatively, lowering himself so he is at eye level with your dripping core that he sees as he pushes the jersey up, eliciting a moan from him, “Yeah, my lucky charm. The love of my life watching me from home while wearing my jersey, and apparently nothing else”. You let out a whine at the combination of his words and his hot breath as he blows on your swollen clit.

“Now let me thank my lucky charm, ‘lright?” Before you can even respond, Ted licks up your slit slowly before latching onto your nub, sucking rhythmically as you let out a string of whines. Moving your hands down to tug at Ted’s hair, you brace your feet on the bed as you thrust up. Chuckling at your eagerness, Ted looks up at you through his hooded eyelids, “Give me a second sweetheart, let me taste ya before I give you what you want.” 

You nod desperately, wanting any kind of relief but also anxious to see the throbbing cock that had made a wet spot on the front of Ted’s briefs. Ted curls two of his fingers into you before his tongue follows, lapping up as much of your juice as you can. He groans in delight, his mustache tickling your clit as it is on high alert, pushing you close to the edge. “T-Ted, Imma…”  Ted pulls away barely from your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit at the perfect pace, “I know sugar, let go for me. Come all over my mouth, it’s just how I want ya.”

With Ted’s reaffirming words and resumed attack on your core as his thumb continues on your clit, you reach your peak while you let out a loud moan, pulling at Ted’s hair. As you come back down earth, you feel Ted cleaning you up with his tongue, not a single drop left behind as he hums Richmond’s chant to himself. 

He pushes himself up so he’s level with your face, emphatically kissing you, bringing a moan from you at the taste of yourself on his lips. You quickly reach down, tugging his briefs down before he wiggles out of them and kicks them to the ground. You grasp him, rubbing your thumb over the tip, “Want you in me, coach.”

Ted groans deeply before nodding, latching onto your neck to leave a mark as he positions his dick right above your entrance. You move to take off the jersey before Ted stops you, grabbing your hands as he puts his weight on his knees, not yet entering you, “Hey there now. Wanna keep my lucky charm just as it is. Gonna fuck you as you wear my name, get a taste of what it’ll be like when I marry ya, okay sweetness?” 

Ted was thanking every god above that he didn’t fall asleep on the bus back to Richmond.

[aufucker]

I wrote a thing to go with that pic and am being bullied into posting it

Jack/BJ

The pattering of rain against the glass of a car was always a comfort, watching the droplets fall as the windows fog from the living heat inside. You were less familiar with it in the back of a squad car, the patterning accompanied by the light clicking of handcuffs.

Not on your wrists, however.

He had pulled up while you were walking, window rolled down. Just a talk, much to your surprise, and talk the two of you did, your arm resting above the window, leaning your height down and craning your body to meet his gaze. The way olive eyes stared at you, all with hunger you weren't sure was entirely human.

Hunger that was starting to excite you, too.

Back and forth, back and forth, teasing met with toothy grins, stopped only by the single drop of rain against your skin. And then another. Drops becoming rapid downpour, words drowned by the roar of rain.

So you found yourself in the car, found hands roaming, lips and teeth devouring greedily of each other. He always liked to bite almost *too* much; teeth ready to tear, hands ready to pull you apart.

You were so surprised he agreed to your idea, a joke really, when your fingers happened to brush against the cold metal of handcuffs on his belt. From his belt to his wrists with a click, the animal in uniform was at your mercy, growling under your firm and teasing hands.

It wasn't long before it was between his thighs, your palm pressing against the pitched indent in the navy seams. Had he seriously been hard this whole time?

"This why you rolled up on me?"

"Might be." was a husky half-assed answer. An answer met with a firm squeeze around him, one that made the jackal in blue whine and jerk his cuffed hands; a fruitless endeavor.

You continued to rub and press and squeeze all the while, strong hands on achingly sensitive places. Confined painfully by more civil matters, civility wearing down by grunts and growls and hard bites against his own lips. He wanted to tear into you terribly.

"BJ... Billie, come on..." the animal struggled to speak.

"Aw, what's up, officer? Getting too close, yeah?"

A nice, dark uniform. Clean and pressed. Not fitting for him in the slightest.

Hips bucked into your palm, jerking away, a fight of brain poisoning want and the mercy of messy embarrassment. Pleading without words, growls of warning, the whine of a desperate dog against deaf ears.

Not deaf.

Just choosing not to listen.

A curse of your name when white poured and oozed from the pitch dark blue.

"Damn, Dean. I knew you were a filthy pig, but come on."

[chasing-ghosts-silhalei]

Chapter 20 - Hunting

[ A scene ]

The next morning, Cullen stepped out of his cabin and into something soft and...fragrant. 

He looked down and sighed. He didn’t know what kind of leavings those were, but that was quite a pile. He knocked his heel on the door-frame to get it off of his boot. 

Once satisfied, he stepped over the pile and made his way toward the tavern for breakfast. 

He flinched when something wet spattered his forehead from above, then closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. If it made Mithra feel better- 

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blob of white and grey from his face, then flicked it to the ground. As he tucked it back into his pocket, Cullen decided he’d work from within a tent to avoid more of her vengeance. 

When he finally made it to the tavern, he got his food and sat down. While he picked at his breakfast, he noticed that new girl, Sera, studying him from another table. Unfortunately, she decided to pick up and join him. 

As she took a seat, she began, “Heard you pissed the Lady Herald off right and proper. Now you got people chasin’ her in the stupid woods.” 

“Don’t call her that,” Cullen growled lowly, “She hates it.” 

Sera’s eyes widened, then she smirked. “Look at you, all serious. Bet it's rough, innit? All hung up, but she hates. But who don’t Templars scare? Nothin’ but a bunch of big, armored, pissed-off helm-polishers.” 

“Leave me alone,” he muttered while cutting into his food. 

“Right, right... Big, proper sorry and set on being sad forever, you are. But then the friggin' sun comes up.” 

“It's not that simple,” he muttered and took a bite. 

“Didn't say it was. And I suppose there’s worse, yeah? Was it raining? Could have been raining. Or stepped in shit.” 

Cullen clenched his jaw and scowled as he pulled a deep, infuriated breath through his nose. 

Sera’s smirk widened. “Already did, huh? Well, so what? Still could have died defending some poncy fool’s hat.” She leaned in and asked, “So, you gonna squeeze up to her or not?” 

His eyes widened, then his brow furrowed. “What?” 

“You made her laugh and she been holding hands with that other one, but it ain’t like that.” Sera’s eyes narrowed as she cooed, “An’ I seen you with her. Like a puppy, you are.” When Cullen blushed and focused on breakfast, she smiled. “Wha’? She laughed like-?” 

“Enjoying the Inquisition so far, Buttercup?” Varric asked as he swooped in. 

She turned her smirk on him. “Oh sure, right? Happy as a pig in clover.” 

"Shit," Varric corrected while Cullen gratefully resumed eating his breakfast. 

Sera tipped her head. “What?” 

Varric raised a brow. “The phrase is commonly, ‘happy as a pig in shit.’”

Her nose wrinkled. “Really? Eugh. Nature’s rubbish.”

“No argument there,” he muttered.

Fic synopsis - Tumblr

[cloudninetonine]

B it is! Player letting themself fall to imminent death!

—

You looked back over the cliff, your demise lit up briefly by a flash of white that was quickly followed up by a sharp sizzle. You turned back towards the Links, a pleading desire in their gazes, intentions unknown outside of their unhealthy obsession with you.

Burning cold droplets slipped down your face as you licked your lips, gulping down a glob of saliva. Despite your situation, the fear ebbed out of you: your shaking ceased, you blinked away the scalding tears with ease, and your heart pitifully wailed in silent submission, somehow aware of what you were about to do.

Sky was closest to you, he smiled as he saw your body relax, shifting in just a little closer, hand reaching out. “That’s it. See? It’s okay, we’re here to help, to love you.”

You wished you hadn’t lost your Sky in the town square on that fateful day.

Blinking sluggishly, you looked up at the taller man, some of the others pressing in behind him. “You’ll protect me?” You murmured.

His smile widened, eyes crinkling the slightest bit at his upturned lip. “Of course.”

“Good,” You gritted out. “Protect this.” You lifted a leg up before pushing off the ground with the other, launching yourself off the cliff.

“NO!” The group roared in eery unison. They had practically fallen over each other to reach out to, about ten or so arms reaching over the edge, but you didn’t see it. Your eyes were screwed shut as you fell back first, hunched in on yourself as you held Fi in a fearful death grip.

The full moon painted the left side of your body in luminous light while your right half was cloaked in darkness. You thought it poetic in a twisted way; you had stepped through into a world and met men of the light, only to step through another where they were made of darkness.

You missed your mother, she would’ve protected you. The picture of your mother slapping the dark versions of your heroes away with her hands brought a smile to your face as you emptily laughed. She was not a force to be reckoned with, you were sure she’d beat these ‘heroes’ into next week, daring them to lay a single finger on her baby.

You wished you had gotten to say goodbye…

The wind rushed past you, whipping your hair and disrupting your already dizzy vision. You squeezed your eyes shut once more, hoping to mentally leave this place before you felt yourself-

Something soft, you were caught.

Whatever caught you had fallen forward slightly, grunting as it’s arms were weighed down by your velocity. You blinked your eyes open in shock, looking up to see a blue, humanoid pig.

You were quickly settled onto the ground, the eldest of the Ganon’s quickly getting down on his knees beside you, “Are you okay?! We were so scared none of us would be able to catch you!” You thought there would’ve been sweat on his face if not for the rain.

“I-I…” A hysterical laugh caught your gasping chokes. A chuckle escaped you, before a sob broke through and you fell face first into the man’s chest.

“I-I want t-to-o go ho-home!” You cried, keeping one arm around him and one around Fi.

He hugged you- stars was he good at them- before lifting you up, pressing your head into the crook of his neck.

There was a distinct chatter from around you, the Ganons quickly dispersing from the scene and beginning a brisk pace towards whatever camp they have made in your absence. Your sobs died down, too dry and weak to continue on. You blearily blinked the water from your lashes, looking over the man’s shoulder with what may have looked like disinterest.

You were finally able to close your eyes, and this time feel safe while you did so.

—

So yeah, they don’t die! I was specifically thinking of that one scene in Ori and the Blind Forest where Ori gets pushed off this big water tree (I think it’s called the Ginso Tree) and falls to what could’ve been death.

I was also thinking of that line in Hellfire “Or she… will… BURN!” Where on the “BURN” line Player leaps off, but is caught when it stops. I also couldn’t remember if the blue pig Ganon has been given a name or not, so I just called him blue pig.

I really love this au and have a few curious questions: I know Ghirahim is here, but what about other villains, like Vaati for example? Is it just the Ganons?

And are the original good heroes stuck in this alternate universe too? Like, Sky was confirmed to have been here. Were they forced to go back to their own, trapped by the bad Links, or are still here frantically searching for Player? Because I have a funny comic idea that I really want to do because I’ve never sent a comic here before.

YOU'VE DONE IT AGAIN BB, BLOWING US ALL AWAY WITH YOUR AMAZING WRITING SKILLS

AND THE MENTION OF MAMA GOT ME IN TEARS I JUST- WHJDBVFIUEVHIUEVC I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

I'm glad you're enjoying the au!

ALSO YOU HAD ME LISTENING TO HELLFIRE ON REPEAT THE OTHER DAY THANKS FOR THAT/lh

ALSO ALSO ORI AND THE BLIND FOREST WHEN I TELL YOU I LOVE THT FUCKING GAME OUCBEOUBY

Also, also, also Don't worry about names the Blue boys haven't been properly introduced yet so don't worry.

As for your questions? I'm not entirely sure yet, I was thinking about Vaati being similar to Ravio but instead a travelling magician? Gotta think more about it.

Also the OGs are still stuck in the alternate Hyrule, they're still very much searching for Player and have a lot of guilt on their conscience for something that was out of their hands :))))

[mygeekcorner]

mygeekcorner/757408949166342144

This post;

1, 2, 4, 5, 10 (FUCKING DUUHH?!), 14, 19, 22, 36, 37, 38 and 39

(enjoy bitch)

1, what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

how do you look at back at a whole life and pinpoint when it twisted this way or that? we're all made up of so many more impressions than could ever fit into a neat little map. but sure, i'll try. 3 things among thousands that shaped me into the floundering 30 something wine hag you all know now

school? that sounds way too broad but heck it. the way it shaped that sense of self and where you belonged both in and outside of classrooms. up to junior high I was Good At School but Bad At People and that gave me exactly that awful self importance that kids who are good at nothing but reading get to make up for how lonely we feel. oh fuck you, you all know exactly what kind of smugness I'm talking about here. thankfully I got into a high school class of people way smarter And more ambitious than me which gave me some much-needed reality checks when the fatigue set in senior year. yay?

being a horse girl was a strange balance looking back at it. you were taught to be ocd levels of careful when cleaning up and taking care of the horse and the equipment, but you're also knee-deep in literal shit in the pouring rain cause someone dropped their riding crop when hacking out and you can't go home until you have all your shit together. it definitely hits the need to be perfect always, but also makes you kind of immune to filth and grit?

the friends I had as a teen. I know it must come as a shock to you all but I've always been a very akward nerd who isn't always the best at knowing what's socially accepted or social suicide rip but in middle school somehow 4 nerdy girls found each other, and then others, and I will be forever grateful that I had that bunch of dorks to hang out with as we navigated puberty, school, fandom introductions, and all that other good shit. there is a certain kind of bond you make when 8 girls squeeze onto one 90cm bed for the slumber party and I love that we looked like a pile of pigs (according to one girls younger sister one such morning)

2, show us a picture of your handwriting?

4, what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

when we first got to know each other back in the day @magnusdidntwantablog was once kind enough to come pick me up from work when I was stationed at our store in the neighbouring town (about an hour away) and worked late enough that no buses would get me home. It was winter and his car was freezing but he wasn't wearing any gloves because he said he had the fans set on warmer air and it would warm up "any minute now". His hands were numb by the time we got to my place and the car was just turning into less of a fridge. Since then that delivery of "aaany minUTE now" has been our go to for when we think the other is being dumb and should just listen. Yes, I know you're sick of it, but that just makes it funnier to us.

5, what made you start your blog?

hubris? nah but my friends talked about it and it seemed fun, so I lurked for a bit and then decided I wanted in on it too

10, would you say you’re an emotional person? (FUCKING DUUHH?!)

HEY! that hurts my poor emotional feelings ;;_;;

but uh yeah, totally am. but I feel like I'm rarely UwU-soft emotional, more heart on sleeve and easily riled up-emotional rip lol

14, what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

take up acting properly, but the older I get the less convinced I am that I have what it takes.. and also time commitment?

19, favourite thing about the day?

that's when I'm able to do the awake thing? also the eating thing.

22, say 3 things about someone you love

3 things I love about @jacquelinesrumbottle is how she is the most easily excitable person ever! she will hype anything and everyone she loves up to everyone she meets because did you know that her friends and fiance are the most talented, beautiful, amazing, generous people who ever walked the earth? also did you have a chance to read this breathtaking book or play that life changing game yet?

she is generous to a fault because spoiling people when she can brings her joy. but also we were supposed to send each other One Jar of Nutella, not a moving box filled with local sweets that took months to finish x'D

her imagination and sense of wonder is hard to find outside 3rd graders (affectionate), because everything really is possible! she carries a thousand stories in her cute little head at any given moment and also did you read the latest article on psychology or stray kids?

have I mentioned that I miss her?

36, are you an open book or do you have walls up?

both? if I care about people I don't have a lot of walls up around them, but that doesn't mean I'm necessarily the most forthcoming. I'll be dropping hints that I need to talk before I'll turn to someone outright and vent because heaven forbid that I bother someone with my small little life and its problems

37, share a secret

I have unread ao3 emails from 2017 (/o\)

if you think it's frustrating trying to get me to sit down and read or watch something you've recommended please know that in my inbox there are stories that I found myself, liked, subscribed to get updates when they posted new chapters, and then proceeded to Not read for 7 years? yeah, I hate myself a little a lot over it.

38, fave song at the moment?

who knows about fave, but this song has been playing on repeat in my brain for like a week so you can have that

39, youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

there's been a few over the years but I love watching Bernadette Banner for myself cause it's fascinating watching people who know things and she has such a calming presence.

but also we've been watching Ants Canada together to watch his homemade rainforest and the Special Interst(TM) is off the charts but it's so fucking earnest and something I really enjoy about our sundays lol

[indigo-a-creeping]

So anyway, top surgery is scheduled for May 9! Anybody want to go explore San Francisco with me for a week (squeezing drains may be required a few times)? I've put out a few feelers, and have a couple of possible people to go with me, but nothing set in stone yet.

We had a hurricane come through today, but it went more to the north, so we just got a lot of rain and wind in the morning. Everything's back to normal now.

My (nearly) hairless guinea pig has had an eye issue since I adopted her, and I haven't been able to resolve it, so I took her to the vet and he said it looks like either an abscess or scarring. I'm giving her antibiotic eye drops and antifungal cream twice a day for two weeks. Hopefully it'll help! I was expecting the vet to take one look and say she needed the eye removed, so this is hopeful.

I've been struck with some terrible affliction for the past week. It's not Covid. Possibly a cold, but more probably allergies. Just so much snot. Coughing, sneezing, feeling awful. Can't taste or smell anything unless I manage to clear a passage in my nose, and it doesn't last long. It's been getting better in the past couple days, though yesterday I almost left work early it was so bad. Hopefully all the rain will clear out the allergens and I'll feel better!

I'm deep into planning my Nanowrimo project for this year, and thinking of trying to make it a podcast. I've been listening to a lot of queer post-apocalyptic supernatural (and adjacent) podcasts lately, and I have some ideas.

And next month I'm driving up to the Mothman Festival! So excited for that! I'll also visit the Flatwoods Monster Museum, the Bigfoot Museum, and the Back of the Dragon, among other things.

[quietlyblooms]

"is it weird that i want to slap it a little?" bonding time <3

taskmaster season 12 | @ausrache shares an urge with chiyo!

the zoo isn't nearly as busy as chiyo feared it might be; the cloudy weather and light drizzle seems to have scared off most people from walking the zoo's paved paths. it really isn't so bad, though. the rain never lasts long, short enough for her and mali to wait it out in little gift shops and shaded rest areas ( if they don't just walk through it, that is ). it's actually nice.

but maybe chiyo's just happy she doesn't have to fight for a view of the otters.

the familiar smell of the petting zoo hits chiyo before mali ever points it out, and even though neither of them are a fan of the smell, they still find themselves gravitating towards the few animals roaming outside. chiyo beelines for the potbelly pig laying in the muddiest part of the enclosure ( she'll lament her muddy shoes later ), pointing out how cute it looks to the idol standing not far off from her. a grin upon her lips, chiyo crouches beside the animal.

" is it weird that i want to slap it a little? "

chiyo tries to swallow her surprised laugh, clearing her throat and reaching out to let the pig smell her hand. " n-no? " she glances up at mali. "i mean, it's kinda like wanting to squeeze somethin' 'cause it's really cute. makes sense. sometimes i feel like that when i see my dog. "

[the-void-writes]

For Spotify wrapped, 23?

Thank you so much for the ask! I apologize in advance because this one feels rushed but I’m so tired right now lol. Still, I hope it’s a little enjoyable, since I don’t write many fight scenes.

EDIT: I didn’t like how this one felt, so I rewrote a bit of it and gave some focus to Will’s fears of hurting people. Also the song I had didn’t fit well, so I’ll switch it out with a song that I’ve always wanted to use for a battle scene, even if it doesn’t fit lol.

Freaks of Preston - Will’s Training

Every patient in Ves Corp had at least three uniforms. One was for standard testing, the second was for water-based training, and the third was for outdoor conditions like snow or rain. All of them were made of a sleek, breathable, and durable material that the engineers had spent many sleepless nights on.

There were special modifications for each student to accommodate their powers— Thomas, in particular, was put through several trial runs to make sure their suit stopped them from slipping through the floor on accident. The work put into each design was intense, but also exceptional. Vesely wouldn’t have anything but perfection.

That was the exact attitude he had for Will’s suit, as well. His prodigy— his guinea pig— needed something that would support both him and the prized parasite nesting in his body. In all manners of speaking, they needed a miracle. Thankfully, that’s exactly what the engineers delivered.

The first part was the coat, still lined and lit up in Ves Corp’s signature purple hue. On the back of the coat, a precise hole had been cut for the main apparatus— a glowing metal spine, filled with the medicine for Will’s Infection. Thanks to Avery and Cierra’s hard work, the device could track the progress of the disease and try to halt its growth before it consumed him internally. Vesely, of course, took this as the perfect excuse for even more tests on his “favorite patient.”

Will slipped his gloves on, while Jason readjusted the metal spine. He could already feel the needles settling in place along his skin. As much as it stung, Will knew the brief pain was better than the slow, numbing sensation of the Infection feeding off of him.

He tossed his mask between his hands like a ball. It was an optional part of the uniform, in case the medicine couldn’t keep up with his power output. The mask was hooked up to a hidden tank of oxygen on his hip, infused with more of Avery’s medicine. The doctors had taken every precaution to make sure that Will could test and survive.

With one last snap, everything was secured in place. Jason stepped back so Will could put on his gauntlets for wrist-support.

“Just remember to take it easy,” Jason said. “I know Gabe will push you, but don’t worry about him. I’m more than happy to beat some sense into him.”

Will smiled softly. “Don’t get yourself in trouble for me. Avery made a good amount of medicine, it should work out fine.”

“I know, I have full faith in him— and you, of course.” Jason sighed. “I’m just—”

“Worried, I know. That just means you’re a good father, right?”

Jason chuckled to himself. “That’s right.”

The light above the locker room door flashed green, the signal for patients that their test was ready for them. Will took a deep breath and decided to put on the mouthpiece for the mask. As he adjusted the tubes for breathing, he caught Jason staring at him, frozen in a state of somberness.

“Are you okay?”

Jason closed his eyes. “You just… You grew up so fast. I wish I could have been there for you. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up this way.”

He started to cry, so Will reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.

“I’d rather spend a short life here with you, than a long one in that town of monsters.”

Will gave him a long hug, and despite the chill and aches of his fever, the affection soothed all of his pain. The lights blinked again, eagerly awaiting their patient. Jason placed a brief kiss on the top of his son’s head.

“Please, be careful.”

“Of course.”

With that, Jason took his path to the observation booth, while Will took the door down a long, cold hallway to his test chamber. The doors at the end opened to a spacious area, almost devoid of life or machinery, save for a box at the end of the room. A metal staircase to the right led up to a walkway, connecting to a room lined with tinted glass. Will couldn’t see who was up there with Jason, but he knew that Vesely was definitely there. Will was practically his creation, his success story.

A loud buzz from the alarm made Will’s head throb. The box at the end of the room opened, and an impossibly-long drone crawled out, trying to balance on its spidery legs. Despite the sleek metal casing, and the various lights and buttons, Will couldn’t help but think of the machine as a tall, disfigured crab.

More defense training, Will thought. Well, at least it’s not live soldiers this time.

He flinched as the sharp crackle of the intercom shook the room, and Vesely’s snake-like voice echoed all around him.

“You’re free to start whenever you’re ready, William.”

There was a soft but stern shout in the background static, and Will knew it was Jason correcting him on the name. It gave him comfort as he stood there, staring at the machine that towered over him.

The goal of this form of training was simple: either put the drone back in its box, or destroy it. For any other patient, like Colin or Jin, it would have been child’s play. Of course, they didn’t have to balance their own health as often as Will did.

He took a step to his right, and the drone shot to the opposite end of the room like a dart. The one downside to using the drones was that they were impossibly fast. Keeping track of their location each second made Will’s head spin before he could even raise his arms.

A small slot opened on the mouth of the machine, and Will could see the white glow of its ammunition grow brighter and brighter.

Long-distance shots… They want me to start early.

Will raised his hand, and the force of his power swirled around his wrist. The gauntlet relieved the pressure on his bones, thankfully, but it still reverberated through his arm, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The waves of energy flowed from his fingers like waves, pushing the drone back a few inches.

It didn’t hesitate in releasing its first shot. Will managed to stop the ball of fire in the air, watching it fizzle out as it failed to hit a target. The drone squealed and groaned as its legs stretched further, nearly reaching the full diameter of the room. It pushed itself towards Will, but he had prepared early enough to push himself off the ground, floating above the machine as it hit the wall behind him.

The drone turned its body back towards Will, firing off a good round of shots. Will jumped from each of its legs, letting the bullets fly past him, and grabbing the last one for himself. He spun around and swung his arms down, throwing the bullet back towards the drone. It hit the deep black paneling with an unpleasant screeching sound that made Will and his opponent stumble.

When the drone lunged for him again, Will grabbed its leg and pulled with all his power. The prick of the needles on his back was instant, followed by the soothing flow of medicine coursing through his body. It came just in time, as his vision went fuzzy for the faintest of seconds, and the ache in his chest passed just as quickly.

He kept on pulling, until the limb finally flew out of its socket, twitching on the ground with all of its wires sticking out and sparking. The drone walked around clumsily, trying to adjust to the weight imbalance. In the blink of an eye, it jumped onto the wall and chased Will around the room. It had stopped firing at him— It knew better, at this point.

With no bullets to retaliate with, Will went for the next best thing. The weight of the broken leg put a tremendous strain on Will’s body, and he could feel another sharp sting in his back, but the metal limb eventually rose off the ground. He aimed it like a lance, trying to follow the drone’s swift movements as it hopped around the room.

Will threw the leg, which ended up piercing a second appendage just below its joint. The drone ripped itself away from the broken limb and lunged at Will. His stomach churned as he forced the drone into a wall, falling to his knees from the excessive force. The drone got back up, with only a small crack in its plates.

With his powers briefly out of commission, Will resorted to the evasive training he learned from Rio, jumping just out of each limb’s reach as it dug into the floor. The oxygen from his mask helped him stay upright, but he could tell from the burning in his arms that he was starting to reach his limit. One wrong stumble resulted in a slash to his arm, cutting right through his coat to the skin underneath.

The intercom clicked on and off. Will knew that Jason was trying to cancel the test before the drone could stab him clean through the heart, just as he knew that Vesely wouldn’t stop the test until Will was victorious. If he couldn’t win, then he was no good for his work. He had to find a way.

… The concrete. It cracked the panels.

Will focused all of his power into his legs, and he pushed himself back into the air. Sure enough, the drone climbed the walls to follow him. He kept himself in the center of the room, staying out of the drone’s reach. His powers were only barely keeping him in place.

Just a little longer… Come on…

His heart pounded in his chest as the drone leapt at him once more, falling short of him by an inch. As it fell back towards the ground, Will put his focus back into his leg and swung it down. A surge of telekinetic energy crashed down on the drone, smashing it against the ground. Bits of fiberglass and metal flew across the concrete, and the drone wriggled around uselessly on its back.

Will landed beside it, weighed down by the growing fire in his body. He tore his mask off and gagged for a minute, trying to let the cold air enter his lungs. For a long time, the room was silent. Then, the intercom crackled to life again.

“Well done, William.” There was a hint of a smile in his venomous voice. “It’s almost finished. One last hit should do it.”

Jason’s voice cut in. “Don’t force yourself, Will. The drone is already incapacitated. You can just drag it back to the box.”

“Jason, he has to learn the full extent of his powers. If he doesn’t push his limit, he’ll never grow.”

Unfortunately, Will knew he was right. He had to get stronger, or else he would always get sick from lifting something as small as a pebble. After putting his mask back on, he raised his hand, lifting one of the discarded appendages into the air. The drone’s camera lens focused on him, twisting frantically. It felt even more like an animal now, at the mercy of the fearless hunter.

A wave of bitterness touched the back of Will’s throat. The world grew dark around him, until he was no longer standing in the testing room. He found himself back in his house, standing silently on the staircase, looming over his broken father. The smell of blood and burnt lights filled the air, and the crunch of bone still haunted his ears.

When the memories finally left, and the testing room returned, Will couldn’t bear to look at the drone. It may have only been a machine, but Will hadn’t hesitated to destroy it. All the training, all the fighting, it had become second nature. He hurt his father, as well as countless soldiers. It didn’t matter if they deserved it, he still hurt them without hesitation.

He was exactly what Preston had feared.

Will dropped his hand, and the flying appendage fell back to the ground. Another injection stung his back, but he could barely feel it. The intercom clicked again, and for a moment, Vesely sounded genuinely concerned.

“William?”

“It’s not right,” Will said. “I can do better. I promise, I’ll do better.”

As he reached for the drone to drag it back to its box, the ammunition slot suddenly opened. There was a bright light, and Will flew backwards onto the ground. A deep fire burned in his chest and into his legs. Then, the view of the testing room melted into nothing.

When Will woke up, he was in the infirmary. Tubes of medicine covered every inch of his arms and legs. Jason was in a chair beside his bed, making notes on a clipboard. Will coughed weakly, immediately bringing Jason to his feet.

“Will, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

There was still a light burn in his chest as he tried to speak, but Will managed to push past it.

“That sucked,” he said.

Jason wheezed. “I know, I’m sorry. Gabe insists that it was a programming error.”

“I can’t really prove him wrong, can I? That thing was crushed.”

“Yes, it was.” Jason checked over his tubes. “How do you feel right now? Any burning? Nausea?”

“Nothing too bad… It just feels like there’s a bus parked on my chest.”

“I know, dear. Avery will come back with something to numb the pain, and hopefully something else for the scars.”

Will tried to look at his chest, but Jason laid him back down.

“It’s already bandaged right now, so you won’t see it. Trust me, that’s a good thing.”

As he readjusted the medicine in the tubes, Will stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry I failed the test,” he said.

“You didn’t fail,” Jason said. “Gabe was already impressed with your work.”

“But I couldn’t beat the drone.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t want to kill it— I’ve already hurt so many people—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jason brushed his hair. “Deep breaths, please.”

He sat with the boy until his breathing was steady, wrapping a wing around him for comfort. They were both taken back to a simpler time, when Will was just a young child, being consoled after a rough day in Preston. It hurt Jason and Will alike, knowing that his life in Ves Corp was still safer than a life out in the world.

“Guilt is a tricky thing,” Jason said. “Believe me, I’ve lived with it for years. People can tell you over and over that it wasn’t your fault, but that never really changes your mind, does it?”

“Not really,” Will said.

“So let me tell you this, at least: You care so much about people and their health. There may be times where you have to fight, but your compassion isn’t lost on us. You’re a great kid, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Will hugged him carefully. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Will.”

“What for?”

“For being here… For being you.”

[newstfionline]

Monday, May 20, 2024

Accustomed to Disasters, Houston Didn’t See This One Coming (NYT) The storm that hurtled through Houston late Thursday surprised a city long accustomed to bouts of serious weather. The Astros kept playing baseball, even as rain and wind whipped into the team’s closed-dome stadium. Many people, following their evening routines, were caught unaware on bikes or at the gym. By Friday, all across town—but particularly in the dense and verdant inner loop neighborhoods that radiate from the city’s skyscrapers—Houstonians confronted a cityscape of debris left by winds of up to 100 mph, as strong as some of the hurricanes that have hit the city in recent years. Decades-old oak and pecan trees were ripped in two or knocked over at the roots, flattening fences or blocking roadways. Stop signs leaned at sharp angles. Highway billboards buckled. Residents spoke of horizontal rain and detritus swirling into the air, and wondered whether a tornado had passed through. “It was like we were in the middle of a blender,” said Martha Rosas.

Mexico City Has Long Thirsted for Water. The Crisis Is Worsening. (NYT) The groundwater is quickly vanishing. A key reservoir got so low that it is no longer used to supply water. Last year was Mexico’s hottest and driest in at least 70 years. And one of the city’s main water systems faces a potential “Day Zero” this summer when levels dip so much that it, too, will no longer provide water. Mexico City, once a water-rich valley that was drained to make way for a vast city, has a metropolitan population of 23 million, among the top 10 largest in the world and up from 15 million in 1990. It is one of several major cities facing severe water shortages, including Cape Town; São Paulo, Brazil; and Chennai, India. Many are the consequence of years of poor water management compounded by scarce rains. And while Mexico City’s problems are worsening, they are not new. Some neighborhoods have lacked adequate piped water for years, but today, communities that have never had shortages are suddenly facing them.

As killings surge, Haitians struggle to bury loved ones (AP) Dressed in black and white, the crowd of teenagers squeezed into a narrow street in Haiti’s capital carrying a coffin with their 16-year-old friend, Joseph, killed by a stray bullet during a gang attack. Finding closure for loved ones killed by gangs on a relentless rampage through Haiti’s capital and beyond is growing harder day by day in a country where burial rituals are sacred and the dead venerated. More than 2,500 people were killed or injured in just the first three months of the year, according to the United Nations. Victims of gang violence are increasingly left to decay on the street, prey to pigs and dogs, because a growing number of areas are too dangerous for people to go out and retrieve the bodies. Some bodies are never seen again, especially those of officers with Haiti’s National Police who are killed by gangs. Still, there are those like Joseph’s friends and family who brave the streets despite the danger of whizzing bullets so they can give their loved ones a proper burial.

Brazil sees aid measures from floods hitting its budget by at least $2.6 bln (Reuters) Brazil estimates aid measures taken by authorities after deadly floods in its southernmost state will cost at least 13.4 billion reais ($2.6 billion) from its budget, according to finance ministry data compiled by Reuters. Heavy rains, which have battered Brazil’s Rio Grande do Sul state since late April, caused historic floods that killed over 150 people, while nearly 100 residents are still missing and more than 500,000 have been displaced, official data shows.

Anger, anxiety, acrimony: Slovaks weigh what led to Fico shooting (Reuters) Slovak opposition party leader Michal Simecka, who described an assassination attempt on Prime Minister Robert Fico this week as an attack on democracy, said on Friday that he, his wife and child had received death threats. His experience is not uncommon, a measure of the extreme political and personal animosities in Slovakia and across Europe that formed the backdrop to the shooting of Fico, who was still in intensive care, two days after being shot at close range. Slovaks like Lubos Oswald, a 41-year-old councillor in Handlova, Slovakia, where the shooting took place, felt a tragedy may have been in the making following years of deepening splits within the population and toxic political debate. “It can’t go on like this anymore: two neighbours hating each other for not having the same political opinions,” he told Reuters outside the shopping mall in the town where the assailant, a former security guard, fired five shots at Fico as he greeted supporters after an off-site cabinet meeting.

Russians Poured Over Ukraine’s Border. There Was Little to Stop Them. (NYT) Russian troops punched across Ukraine’s northern border with such speed and force last week that Ukraine’s meager fortifications offered almost no obstacle. Some Ukrainian soldiers, caught totally by surprise, fell back from their positions, and villages that had been liberated nearly two years earlier suddenly came under relentless shelling, forcing hundreds to flee in scenes reminiscent of the early days of the war. The stunning incursion into the Kharkiv Region lays bare the challenges facing Ukraine’s weary and thinly stretched forces as Russia ramps up its summer offensive. The Russian troops pouring over the border enjoyed a huge advantage in artillery shells and employed air power, including fighter jets and heavy glide bombs, to disastrous effect, unhindered by depleted Ukrainian air defenses. But the biggest challenge for Ukrainian forces is people. Ground down over more than two years of war, Ukraine’s military is struggling to come up with enough soldiers to effectively defend the 600-mile front line, even as Russian forces have swelled with thousands of newly mobilized troops.

Iran’s President Raisi and foreign minister die in a helicopter crash (AP) Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi, the country’s foreign minister and others have been found dead at the site of a helicopter crash after an hourslong search through a foggy, mountainous region of the country’s northwest, state media reported. Raisi was 63. State TV gave no immediate cause for the crash in Iran’s East Azerbaijan province. With Raisi were Iran’s Foreign Minister Hossein Amirabdollahian, the governor of Iran’s East Azerbaijan province and other officials and bodyguards, the state-run IRNA news agency reported.

An airstrike kills 20 in central Gaza and fighting rages on (AP) An Israeli airstrike killed 20 people in central Gaza, mostly women and children, and fighting raged across the north on Sunday. The airstrike in Nuseirat, a built-up Palestinian refugee camp in central Gaza dating back to the 1948 Arab-Israeli war, killed 20 people, including eight women and four children, according to hospital records. Palestinians reported more airstrikes and heavy fighting in northern Gaza, which has been largely isolated by Israeli troops for months and where the World Food Program says a famine is underway. The Civil Defense says the strikes hit several homes near Kamal Adwan Hospital in the town of Beit Lahiya, killing at least 10 people. Footage released by the rescuers showed them trying to pull the body of a woman out of the rubble as explosions echo in the background and smoke rises.

Israel’s Wartime Government Frays as Frustration with Netanyahu Grows (NYT) Benny Gantz, a centrist member of Israel’s war cabinet, presented Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu with an ultimatum on Saturday, saying he would leave the government if it did not soon develop a plan for the future of the war in Gaza. While Mr. Gantz’s departure would not topple the country’s emergency wartime government, the move would further strain a fragile coalition that has provided Mr. Netanyahu’s far-right government with a boost of international legitimacy, and it would make the prime minister even more reliant on his hard-line partners. “If you choose the path of zealots, dragging the country into the abyss, we will be forced to leave the government,” Mr. Gantz said in a televised news conference. “We will turn to the people and build a government that will earn the people’s trust.” Mr. Gantz’s ultimatum was the latest sign of pressure building on Mr. Netanyahu to develop a postwar plan. The prime minister is increasingly being squeezed—externally from Israel’s closest ally, the United States, and from within his own War Cabinet—to clarify a strategy for Gaza.

DRC army says it stopped attempted coup involving US citizens (Reuters) The leader of an attempted coup on Sunday in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has been killed and some 50 people including three American citizens arrested, a spokesman for the Central African country's army told Reuters. Gunfire rang out around 4 a.m. in the capital Kinshasa, a Reuters reporter said. Armed men attacked the presidency in the city centre, according to spokesman Sylvain Ekenge. Another attack took place at the nearby home of Vital Kamerhe, a member of parliament who is tipped to become speaker, Kamerhe's spokesman, Michel Moto Muhima, and the Japanese ambassador said in posts on X. Ekenge named Christian Malanga, a U.S.-based Congolese politician, as the leader of the attempted coup. He said Malanga first attempted and aborted a coup in 2017 and that one of the American citizens arrested was Malanga's son.

Former South Africa leader Zuma promises jobs and free education as he launches party manifesto (AP) Former South African President Jacob Zuma Saturday lamented the high levels of poverty among black South Africans and promised to create jobs and tackle crime as he launched his new political party’s manifesto ahead of the country’s much anticipated elections. He told thousands of supporters who gathered at Orlando Stadium in Johannesburg that his party would build factories where many people would be employed and provide free education to the country’s youth. He has also pledged to change the country’s Constitution to restore more powers to traditional leaders, saying their role in society has been reduced by giving more powers to magistrates and judges. In 2018, Zuma was forced to resign as the country’s president following wide-ranging corruption allegations, but he has made a political return and is now seeking to become the country’s president again.

Working the 5-to-9 Before the 9-to-5 (WSJ) Melissa O’Blenis rises by 4:30 a.m. for prayer and Peloton time before starting her job at the digital consulting firm Argano. “I just love checking things off my list,” she says. “I need that focus time away from Teams messages, email notifications and text alerts.” A mother with two sets of twins, O’Blenis, 48, often breaks for her kids’ afternoon sports without feeling guilty or judged. Colleagues jokingly call her Granny because her 9 p.m. bedtime makes the early starts possible. But Granny got the last laugh when she was promoted to a director-level role in March. Other professionals take a similar approach to their desk jobs, starting their workdays with a 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. shift. They are up before the sun to get a jump on the workday. Workflow software maker Asana reports that 21.4% of users are logging on between 5 a.m. and 9 a.m. this year, up from 19.8% in 2021. About 12% of work tasks are completed before 9 a.m., the company says.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

May to December - Chapter 30 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

May-December

It was late in the afternoon noon now and the trio was in the living room together watching cartoons.

The reality of the scene made Kyle's chest swell with delight.     

It was cozy and laid back.

It was nice to take a break between running about fixing things here and there and work.

Monday was in less than twenty-four hours and Kyle didn't want to think about having to drive out of town for remote work.   

It was cozy and laid back.

It was nice to take a break between running about fixing things here and there and work.

Monday was in less than twenty-four hours and Kyle didn't want to think about having to drive out of town for remote work.     

He still took those.

There was a lot he was saving up for with Chaska.

He didn't have massive big dreams like he did when he was younger but he did want his family to be healthy and comfortable.     

"Don't hog the blanket," Chaska complained, adjusting the yellow duvet that they had brought downstairs with them.

The new house's heating was still a bit wonky but the two men were working on it.   

"Is it that cold?" Kyle asked, rubbing his fingers through his fiancé's hair.

Chaska hummed, snuggling closer to Kyle on the sofa as he closed his eyes.

Kyle guessed that the pink cartoon pig snorting on television wasn't doing much in the entertainment department.   

"Yes, we should really hurry up and fix the heating downstairs," Chaska sighed, opening his eyes to look at Otis who was sitting on the floor beside the sofa.

"Are you cold?" he asked the little boy, reaching down to touch his hair.   

"No," Otis responded before getting up and crawling up the sofa as well.

He found his way under the blanket between the two men, before popping his head out so that he could keep watching the cartoon on T.V.

A cat meowed in the distance and one of them walked past the sofa, staring up at the trio.     

"There's no space," Kyle said, watching the pet walk away after licking its paw.

Chaska laughed, giving Kyle's jaw a quick peck before looking back at the television in front of them.  

"Do you want to go kickboxing sometime this week? It's been a while," Chaska asked a few minutes into their watch time.

Kyle thought about it for a bit before nodding his head.

It had been a while.

They had been spending so much time moving and fixing up the house that they hadn't had time to go to the gym.

Kyle's brows came together in a small frown as he thought back to the first day that he boxed with Chaska in the ring.

The man cuddling up to him was completely different.  

Chaska's demeanor was what had attracted him but the vulnerability underneath his thick skin and his stern look were what had made Kyle fall in love with him.    

"Why are you smiling?" Chaska asked, poking the man's cheek.

"What are you thinking about?"   

"Just you," Kyle answered, making Chaska's face warm up.

Kyle wanted to kiss the man but it was a good idea to limit physical affection around Otis to brief kisses and gentle shoulder squeezes and the like.

It was a lot of work explaining that two people who loved each other, kissed briefly and held hands and it would be harder to explain what French kissing was.     

Chaska was the first to look away.

"You know, I wish we were alone," he mumbled just high enough for Kyle to pick up.

The older man laughed, adjusting the collar of Chaska's shirt before the two of them tried to pay attention to the cartoon Otis had forced them to watch.

Kyle zoned out, not really interested in the 2D animals on screen.

He retreated to his mind, thinking about how he had first met Chaska.

He had arrived in Newfront when the ground was wet,and the rains were frequent and somehow Chaska had completely become a  part of their lives after the proposal in December.     

People tended to associate the winter months with stagnation and a lack of life but these winter months had been wonderful to Kyle.

He'd gotten all the things he never knew he had wanted or carved until he was back in his childhood town.   

Kyle was back in Newfront.

And he didn't have any plans of going anywhere.

THE END.

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 29

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:  SHAYLINE

When Thel shoves Darwyn into my arms I almost just fall back on my arse, she takes me so much by surprise, but I rally myself quick enough to grab hold of her and plant her on her feet as I watch the dwarf start her clumsy run around the corner.  Honestly, I can’t quite believe what I’m watching, but quickly enough the halfling starting to squirm in my grip brings my attention to bear and I remember what she just said.  I give her a squeeze now, hissing in her ear as I try my best not to just crush her.  “Darwyn, chill!  Just wait!”

I’m almost surprised again when she actually does it, going slack in my arms as I shift my weight back onto my knees so I can be ready to spring forward again soon as it’s safe.  Just as I hear the first arrow strike Thel and she stumbles, but doesn’t go down, instead just fighting to right herself as she keeps going, before another one hits her and it’s clear enough she’s taking all the fire now.  So I just shove Darwyn behind me now and dive forward, scrabbling almost on hands and knees to reach Zuldrad’s prone form and expecting with every inch to get an arrow between my ribs for my troubles after all.

Nothing hits me before I reach him, so I just grab hold of his nearest arm and start dragging him.  He starts to squirm almost immediately, letting out a winded but hearty enough scream that’s surprisingly high-pitched to let me know he’s still with us.  I don’t stop, instead doubling my efforts as I grab hold of his shoulder with my other hand, not really registering how warmly wet it is until he cries out again.  I just dig my fingers into the leather of his pauldron and start tugging, pulling him out of the line of fire now as I see Darwyn dropping to her knees in front of us.  Looking more stricken than ever now as she takes in his wretched state.

He's bleeding like a stuck pig, his armour slick wet with blood that makes the leather even more black, and it’s clear enough that whoever shot him was paying close attention and aiming with an expert eye to be able to get around the scattering of plate steel in his gear.  As Darwyn starts to cry harder again I probe at the wounds, seeing his shoulder’s good and torn under the armour much like when Art got hit the other night, while the other three are … oh fuck, these are serious wounds.  No wonder what little breath he’s getting in is so ragged and wet sounding, both of these are in his lungs, and the other one, lower down in his back … gods, that is his liver …

Before I can say anything to Darwyn, even though I don’t have the first clue what to say as I realise her friend’s probably going to die from these wounds, something barrels hard round the corner to smash into the wall next to us.  Something big, I realise now, impossibly big, as big as Driver 8, in fact.  Certainly so massive that the wall, which was already subtly dented with broken, spiderwebbed cracks through the pale plaster from what must have been the termination of Lady Naru’s blast, completely craters under the impact.  I grab hold of Darwyn as broken shards of plaster and stone rain down around us, along with a thin haze of billowing dust, and just bear her down against the floor again.

Whatever it is grunts loud as it flounders, and when I chance a look my blood runs cold as I realise I’ve seen this before – I remember the armoured ogre from the other night, but it’s no less terrifying now, and right now it’s the worst thing we could possibly have run into.  I almost grab firmer hold of Darwyn and start to drag her away, hoping it’s busy enough with extracting itself from the broken stone of the wall it won’t notice us, but remembering Zuldrad stops me.  He’s not dead yet, I still have a responsibility for him …

Then the ogre rolls back and lands on its backside heavily enough to shake the whole place, and when it sits up I swear it’s looking right at me with bright eyes that seem far too intelligent.  For a moment it just blinks back at me, seeming more surprised than we are as it just takes us both in … then its eyes narrow  and it lowers its helmed head as it bares its oversized  teeth and starts to growl.  Still a genuine threat then.

Certainly I feel in very real danger, particularly once I realise I don’t currently have a weapon in hand while I’m here on my knees, very much at this beast’s mercy right now.  Sure, I could grab Darwyn and just run, but that would mean leaving Zuldrad, and I just can’t do it, even if I have a feeling he would probably prefer If I saved his friend instead of him.  Which means staying where I am, and fighting.  My eyes flicker to my stolen sword, dumped without ceremony a few feet out of reach without stretching, and right now I know that …

When I look up I see the ogre’s followed my gaze, now very much aware of what I’ve been thinking, and I know now my time’s run out.  My heart starts to pound harder in my chest than it has all night, even when we were running through the theatre, and I can feel the cold, charged surge of adrenaline pumping through me now, ready to give me a burst of speed.  Should I choose to lunge for the sword to defend us both as I’m seriously considering, even though I know it would be of no use at all against this enemy.  If this thing charges we’re both flattened.

Then it starts to shift and I stop really thinking now, instead shoving Darwyn down with one hand while I stretch to scrape the sword up with the other … just as I feel tiny clawed hands and feet scramble up and over my arched back, something small but agile and very quick using my shoulders as a launching platform, only letting a feral little snarl go as they leap.  When I look up again I see Brung spring at the ogre, which actually reels back as its eyes widen, mostly just surprise but it’s still sudden enough to take a little of the fight out of it, at least for a moment.  Which is all he needs as he plucks the knife from his teeth and lands on its face, grabbing hold of the helmet and starting to slash away at whatever it can that’s exposed.  The attack lasts for bare seconds before the beast recovers enough wits to whip its gigantic hand across its face, and he’s brushed away, turning over as he tumbles to barely land on all fours.

The ogre looks really pissed when it raises that hand again and tenses its arm to bring it down on him in a great, crushing smash, but in the same moment I hear something behind me … or perhaps I feel it, or more accurately both, knowing Lady Naru’s close behind me now without needing to look.  Speaking an incantation as something bright is hurled at our would-be attacker, a bundle of something wild and chaotic, a fizzing, dancing blur of rainbow light and sparks that seems to burst apart at the ogre’s feet before flaring upwards.  Suddenly the air’s filled with a great hissing, humming whistle that seems to fluctuate as the sparks start to dance upwards, while the rainbow light stretches and weaves up and around the startled beast in bright, twisting tendrils.  The noise builds into a harsh buzz which starts to hurt my ears, then there’s a final flare while the air seems to pop …

Altogether it’s so bright and loud I reel back, I can’t help it, dropping the sword again as I cover my face with my arms, but when I chance a look again, blinking the after-image out of my eyes, all I see is an absence.  The ogre’s nowhere to be seen, all there is left is a few scattered sparks that seem to pop and fizz out of existence low in the air where it was.

Once again, when I turn to look at her Lady Naru’s having to lean against her staff for support, although this time she doesn’t look anywhere near as worn as she did when she blasted the corridor behind us.  She’s still left breathing heavily, but the fit seems to pass quickly enough, and she manages a slightly wan smile.

“Bloody hell …”  I get myself up onto both knees again as I look her over, knowing I’m probably regarding her with something like awe right now.  “Now what did you do?”

Frowning a little, the sorcerer considers for a moment.  “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.  I just … well, I shunted them somewhere else.  I didn’t really have enough time to focus on a specific destination, so I really can’t bank on where they’ll land.  Somewhere high, that was about all I could really manage.  It’s possible they might hit the ground with a significant amount of force.”

My eyes go a little wider at that, and I’m a beat finding words to reply, but when I do I know I’m smiling a little, although I don’t really know how it’ll actually read.  “That was … you know you can be bloody scary sometimes.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she pushes herself more upright again, looking past me to Zuldrad as the last of her good humour leaks away.  There’s worry, but a regret too, and perhaps something a little darker.  “Oh … damn it … Shay, I can’t mend that.  He needs a proper healer.  We have to do something now.”

“We do, yeah.”  I turn to look him over myself, as Darwyn just doubles over him, laying her head against his shoulder now while he seems to be breathing shallower still.  I can see so much of his blood soaking into the carpet right now …  “We have to get to that fucking door.  If we get it open Krakka’s right on the other side.  He can fix this.  And we’ll have all the reinforcements we’d need.”  I turn back to Lady Naru.  “Can you get it open?  I mean we don’t actually know what’s wrong with it –”

“It depends what Tavarrat’s actually done.  It could be as simple as removing an enchantment, or it could be horribly complex, I might need to work at it for a while.  There’s just no way to know until I arrive.”

“Well if we are gonna do something, we better do it now.”  Hearing Thel’s voice now, after seeing her charge around the corner, makes me look up, wondering what she’s doing back, and I find her stood just inside the cover of the wall now, Brung stood beside her.  Inspecting the knife in his clawed hand, the blade of which is, I notice, conspicuously clean of blood.  Not that I would have expected him to have actually been able to cut the ogre’s stone-hard skin.

She’s in one piece, at least, and I don’t see any arrows stuck in her, although I see a few more conspicuously bright nicks and scratches marking the plates of her armour.  Bearing the brunt of the archer’s shots, I suspect.  It wouldn’t surprise me if it was that halfling I remember from the Heath, one of Mallys’ mercenaries.  Certainly given the presence of that fucking ogre …

Getting to my feet now, I step up to the corner myself, looking her over for a moment before taking a deep breath and glancing out into the open beyond.  Wondering what could possibly convince her to turn back right now, even after that great hulking beast was removed from the mix.

There are several more figures stood at the far end of the passage than I would have expected, especially after Lady Naru took so many out in one fell swoop with that crazy spell of hers.  But this group … they’re a more eclectic mix, and I recognise many of them, too.

That diminutive archer’s there, just as I expected, but I see the imori too, stood out in the open like he doesn’t have a care in the world.  Waiting with his lethal sabre and dagger already drawn in anticipation of an attack.  I catch sight of that hedge wizard too, the one from the Heath, stood near the front with his staff tilted towards us, and while he still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him down I’ve learned not to judge with mages by their appearance.

Vandryss is there too, Tavarrat at her side, both skulking at the back with that young half-orc I fought the other night while Kesla crossed swords with Mallys for the first time.  I don’t know if he recognises me from there, but I lean out long enough for them to at least register me before I pull back.

It’s the one in front that makes me pause for longer than I intended, just long enough for the halfling to draw her bow again as she crouches off to the side, preparing to take aim on me and finally making me slip out of sight again.  I don’t recognise that one, but it doesn’t take much imagination for me to work out who he is.  Part of it’s just going off what I learned from Kesla in description after she met him, but to be honest it couldn’t really be anyone else.

Orric Jammund is, to be honest, exactly as I expected him to be.  He’s as world-worn as all the other former pirates I’ve run into, both tonight and this afternoon at the Late Bone, but he still wears it so much better.  There’s something larger-than-life about the way he just stands there, hand casually laid on the hilt of his still-sheathed sabre, almost slouching as he cocks his head to the side, that suggests he doesn’t have any more care in the world than the imori shadowing him.  Like what’s happening right now is just inconveniencing him.  To my eye … honestly, there’s nothing about him that looks like an overt threat, and yet somehow, every inch of him still feels like one.

Before I pull back I mark one more thing, too.  Remembering the layout of this lowest of the underground floors here in the cellar, I know that to get where I need to go, I have to get through them.  The passage turning off at the end of this one branches off at its end in two opposite directions, one of which leads to the tunnels entrance.  But directly behind them now, there’s the room we should find Gael in, and likely her father too, at least according to that woman, Sal.  They’re so close now … just realising this now almost makes me charge out into the open without further thought.  Except it’s clear enough that would be very bad …

“Shit …”  I hiss under my breath and I lean back against the wall, letting my head drop back.

Lady Naru’s watching me, concerned now.  “What is it –”

“Hello there?”  The voice is gruffer than I would’ve imagined, but then I suppose a lifetime of salt-air and shouting orders on a rolling deck would probably do some damage.  More than that, there’s something about it … I don’t know why, but just hearing it makes the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up.  Like the air just before a particularly powerful storm, out in the high places in the Reaches.  “Can I have a word?”

My eyes meet the sorcerer’s now, and she just frowns deeper, looking past me to the corner.  Wary now, which can’t be a good sign.  I take a deep breath through my nose and shift as close as I can to the edge without exposing myself, then clear my throat.  “Not unless the little one puts down that bow, I’m afraid.  And the hedge can fuck off, too.”

“No, I don’t reckon that’ll do, luv.  Well, s’pose we can hear each other well enough from here.  Where’s the big one?  I would’ve expected her to be leading the charge.”

Gritting my teeth, I bite back my retort and just press on.  “What do you want, Jammund?  If you knew what was good for you you’d just surrender now, it’ll save you a lot of grief.”

“Really?  You sure ‘bout that, luv?  Far as we can tell you’re more’n a few short for that.  The rest o’ you are still conspicuously stuck out in the tunnels.  I’d be real interested to see what you got planned makes you so confident all of a sudden.”

Hissing a curse under my breath, I turn back to Lady Naru and beckon her over.  She comes quickly, leaning in close so I can whisper low.  “Can you do that thing you did before again?  The way you cleared this corridor, I mean.”

Looking into space for a moment, her eyes seem to go glassy before she blinks again and then shakes her head.  “No, not with those mages there.  If it was just the hedge wizard I might have caught them unaware like the others, but I hazard a guess that’s Tavarrat in the back.  She would make that … too difficult, I should think.”

Fighting the growl that wants to come now, I still grit my teeth as I instead wonder:  “What about Big Man?  Any chance you could summon him in here?  You know, like a reversal of what you did with the ogre?”

“I’m sorry, Shay, but it doesn’t work like that.  I just banished them, it’s not really a spell built for a great amount of nuance.  And even if I could there’s nowhere near enough room in here for that to –"

“Tell you what, luv.”  Jammund runs right over her now.  “I’ll give you … let’s see, how ‘bout we say another … minute to pull back, send word to yours out there that they’re to do the same so you can all just fuck off right now, an’ maybe your pointy-eared friend’ll live to see another sunrise after all.  Way things’re going right now their time’s getting real short.”

I barely manage to keep from snapping a hasty insult back, and my fingers still audibly tighten all on their own around the hilt of the sword as it is.  I shoot a look at Lady Naru’s staff, then to Brung and Thel each, trusting her to work out what I mean, then turn back before bothering to watch her reaction.  “Yeah, you know what, Jammund?  That won’t do either.  Right now you not doing that’s the only thing keeping me from cutting you to pieces the moment I reach you.  If you were to tempt fate any more I’d have to get nasty.  How long did you say?  A minute?  That’ll be less than that now for you to make a decision on the matter, I should think.”

Lady Naru hisses low, no real word, just showing her regard to this, but she still leans in close to start whispering to Thel.  Meanwhile I start to pull back from the corner, taking a breath as I move towards Darwyn, still slumped beside the stricken hobgoblin.  Setting my stolen weapon aside, I drop to my knee beside her.

“Listen here, I don’t reckon you’re hearin’ me, girl.  You can’t win this, you ain’t got the numbers, an’ you definitely ain’t got enough magic, not with just one mage, we got you outclassed there.  All you’re doing is wasting your time, and your friend’s time too.  You’re getting ‘em killed.  Just go.  Now.  While you still can.”

Trying not to let him fray my nerves, I just grit my teeth and reach out, laying my hand against Darwyn’s back, high up, slowly moving my fingers to start massaging the nape of her neck, gentle as I can be.  Keeping my voice soft, whispering low to her alone.  “Darwyn?  Please, I need you to buck up and get your shit together.  We need you.  Right now.”

For a long moment she doesn’t respond, quiet and still enough I start to worry that she might have been fundamentally broken by this, her friend’s time is ticking away so quickly now, his chances so slim they’re almost non-existent.  I feel so cold and cruel and fucking heartless just having to ask this right now, but I have no choice, we need her.  Just like Jammund said, we don’t have the numbers, and if she is broken then we have one less.

Then she finally stirs, stiffening a little under my hand while she slowly raises her head.  She doesn’t turn to face me, in the end she just gives me a bare glance through the corner of her eyes, the slimmest of eye contact.  Her hair hangs around her face, I can barely see the state of it now, but it’s clear enough to me how fraught she is now, barely a shell of herself.  “Leave me alone.”  She breathes the words so low I almost miss them.

“Gods damn it … Darwyn, I’m sorry, but I can’t.  I mean it, we need you now –”

Turning fast, she smacks my hand away as she rounds on me, and suddenly her grief is changing into anger, she’s almost fiery with rage now as she confronts me.  “Fuck you!”  She still only hisses the words, somehow managing to exert enough control on herself to keep from raising her voice, but there’s so much force in her speech even so.  “Fuck you for this, I can’t do this now, I gotta help him.  I can’t leave my friend, look at this, look what they done to him, I gotta stay with him –”

My hand moves without me really thinking about it first, it flies almost on its own as I slap her with a restrained back-hander that nonetheless still makes her stumble as she reels back and almost falls.  Not stunned, she’s just shocked by what I’ve done, as much as I am and I’m sure it’s writ large across my face.  But I don’t go back on it now, clenching my teeth as I suck a fresh breath in and trying to close my face off.  “Stop it.  I mean it, we don’t have time for this.  Gael hasn’t got time, if we don’t move now they’re going to kill them.”  I reach out again, grabbing her shoulder and dragging her close, and she doesn’t resist me, likely still too startled to fight back.  So I press my advantage.  “Fucking listen to me, if you want Zul to survive this you’re going to help us.  His only hope is on the other side of that door, at the end of this bloody maze, Krakka’s out there and he needs us to open the way for him.  Do you understand me?”

Slowly, as her eyes start to fill with tears again, she reaches up to her face, pressing her fingers to her jaw and cheek which are already red from my strike.  Part of me is desperate to apologise to her for it, but I bite it off, just hoping I’ve gotten through to her.  Finally she blinks, and while the gathered tears run she doesn’t break down this time, instead standing up straight while her face starts to harden.  Even so, her voice still wobbles, a little cracked.  “I’m … I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I’m with you.  I just …”

My eyes flicker to Zuldrad for a moment, still crumpled on the floor close by, his breath slow and faint and rasping, his face so pale.  There’s very little time left to him, now.  I really hope I’m right, that there still is some tiny hope for him, as much for her sake now as for him.  “I promise … I promise you, this is his best chance.  Are you ready?”

Sniffing hard, she wipes her face as clean as she can with the heel of her glove, which is still bloody enough it smears fresh gore onto her cheeks while blotting the tears.  But her expression is a lot harder now, more determined, the anger returning to her now.  She slips both of her longest knives free from their scabbards and takes a deep breath, which only hitches a little.  “Yeah.  I am fucking ready.  I wanna kill something.”

Letting a more relieved sigh go, I reach over to drag the sword back up from the floor, then as I’m looking at it I consider for a moment before starting to scan our immediate surroundings, hoping maybe I can find something a little more suitable for me here.  Maybe one of the unfortunate bastards here had a blade I can put to better use than this heavy, unwieldy thing.  But even as I start looking I realise it’s a long shot, there are smaller swords here but nothing that looks remotely worth my time.  Most of the steel here’s workmanlike at best, and I just don’t trust it.  Looks like I’m stuck with this thing for now.

As I get to my feet again I give Lady Naru a look, and find she’s already starting to weave a sigil, which looks like another complicated one.  She doesn’t look too happy about it, but she still holds her tongue as she meets my gaze, instead tightening her grip on her staff with her other hand and turning to look where we have to go.  Steeling herself now.

Thel’s just breathing heavy, her heavily armoured shoulders rising and falling in a particularly intimidating fashion with each pull and push, while her brow is tightly knitted and her face dark as she watches the sorcerer.  Gripping her axe tight in her hands, held low and ready for violence.  Ready to charge.

Brung looks up at me now, cocking his head somewhat like a small dog would, and while I still can’t read his expression at all, the gesture feels like a query.  Breathing out slow, I just give him a little nod, and I think he reads it right as he turns to step up beside the dwarf, drawing his shortsword again in anticipation.

Jammund’s voice comes again from out of sight:  “You still there?  I mean I know you are.  You really ain’t thinking it through, are you?  You ain’t got a dog’s chance in this fight, luv.  This ain’t gonna go right for you at all.”  He sighs loud enough for me to catch, but I doubt there’s any more sincerity in it than any of the feigned regret he’s putting on.  “Last chance, girl.  Count o’ ten.  Nine.  Eight.  Seven –”

“Now …”  I barely breathe it to Lady Naru, but she responds instantly, muttering an incantation which makes the sigil flare warm yellow, then split in two, seeming to float in front of her as she now immediately pushes out into the open.  Already raising her staff, which seems to gleam for just a blink, like there’s a sparking light that rides up its length from the butt to its very tip in the space of a blink, and when the top starts to glow I know it wasn’t any kind of trick of the light.  She raises it in both hands, already aiming it as she steps out, and I just follow right behind as I break into a tight, crouching charge at her side.

The first thing I hear as we emerge is the shunting twang of the loosening bowstring, but I’m already starting to wind up my first swing, so as the halfling’s arrow streaks towards me I’m sharp enough to cut it in two in mid-air before it can do any harm.  Then Sulin unleashes whatever the spell is she’s built up in her staff and for a moment I’m blinded, the ensuing flash is so bright it’s a miracle I don’t stumble on the spot in sheer disorientation.  Instead I just soldier on, continuing to charge in the same direction I’ve been heading, hoping I don’t blunder into her or the nearest wall as I work on blinking my eyes clear again.

My eyesight clears within bare moments, the bright blur shifting enough I can at least make out a vague picture of what’s going on, and I can see more than a few of the people ahead of us are stumbling back, seemingly even more blinded and disoriented than I was.  As if she somehow managed to shield me at the last as she cast the spell, although I don’t have the first clue how.  The imori seems the most stricken, all but doubled over while he grips his head with his offhand, hissing and snarling in clear pain, but I see Jammund’s taken a strong hit too.  And he was always where I planned on aiming anyway …

Then Thel slips around me and sprints forward, already starting to roar a fierce battle-cry which I’m not sure is really wise if she plans on taking advantage of them being momentarily blinded.  On the other side, just through the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Brung bounding up on the other side, managing to keep pace with her as he uses his free hand too to propel him along faster … then the sorcerer stops for a single beat, dropping out of sight now as I keep going, but the two hovering sigils both suddenly streak out ahead of her.  Heading straight for both of them.

Yeah … granted, this was technically my plan, but now I’m very much realising that not actually discussing it means I have no idea what she’s actually doing here.  So when the floating bundles of strange glowing yellow lines, squiggles and dots inexplicably drop down to whip under their feet, I’m a little startled when their next steps see them both suddenly fall into them.  Almost as if the split spell just opened gaping holes in the floor, and they both just vanish from sight.

This time I really do falter on the spot, seeing that is just too much for me in the moment, and as I stumble to a halt I blink again as I start to cast about for where they’ve gone.  Just as two more of these strange glowing “holes” appear in the air on the far side of the group ahead, and they both immediately drop through.  Ah, yeah … okay, I understand it now.  That‘s actually bloody brilliant.  For a moment I almost expect them to start cutting into the momentarily disoriented figures around them, but instead they just keep on running, quickly turning the corner at the bottom of the passage and vanishing from sight.  Already heading for the tunnel entrance.

Then Jammund blinks a few more times, wiping his eyes with thumb and forefinger, and finally squints a little as he starts to focus again … and his eyes find me much quicker than I would have expected.  His already well-furrowed brows crease further as they look me up and down, then he cocks one of them as one corner of his mouth starts to tick upwards.  He takes a step forward now, reaching across and drawing his sword in an almost languid motion, like he wants to take his time with this, and his smile starts to grow.

You’d be that half-orc, I take it?  It’s interesting, Van could’ve sworn she killed you already, there was some doubt whether or not you were the same one.  But seeing you now, reckon it’s a lot easier to believe.”

Through the corner of my eye, I see Lady Naru step up to the imori and, with a deft spin of her staff, comes very close to knocking him to the floor.  He’s barely with it enough after his own brief blinding to duck aside, baring a mouthful of particularly scary teeth at her with a low hiss as he dances back, but he’s watching her with cold wariness now.  Regarding her as a proper threat now, but not attacking yet, his eyes instead flickering to Jammund, like he’s checking to see what he does first.  The sorcerer gives the stave a more showy flourish before tapping it to the floor beside her, drawing herself up to her full height to the side between me and the pirate, and gives him a cool look.  He returns it, still looking surprisingly unfazed.

“You’re an interesting one too, I don’t mind saying.  Real easy on the eyes.” He sneers at her for a moment, before turning back to me.  “Truth be told, though, I’m more interested in this one.  I’m curious to see how well she dances.”

“What makes you think I’d give you the chance?”  the sorcerer hisses now, her striking eyes narrowing as her lips draw tight.  “Despite what you might suppose, you are the one who’s outclassed.”

“No, you need to go.”  I growl, watching Jammund now as he ignores her, still focused on me as he takes a half-step back into a very strong ready-guard.  It’s enough to make me follow suit too, since I intended to do this anyway.  “Get that door open, let the others in.  Go fast.”

There’s a moment I think she might argue, but in the end she just steps back, taking her staff up in both hands while giving me a dark sidelong glare.  “Damn it …”

“I’ll stay with you.”  Darwyn’s  tensed low on my other side, looking up at Jammund with both her knives cocked and ready.  She looks close to furious right now, enough that diminutive as she is she still looks like a genuine threat in her own right.  “Help you cut this puffed up pirate down to size.”

“No, you go with her.”  I turn back to Jammund.  “He’s mine.  Besides, I’m going for Gael.”

His brow quirks a little higher at that, his head tilting a little as he looks me over with a more critical eye now.  “You got no chance o’ getting past, luv.  Just me or the lot of us, we’ll cut you all down before you get halfway.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”  I shoot Lady Naru a quick sidelong look and hiss:  “Go!”

As Jammund blinks, starting to frown a little, Lady Naru just lunges past me as she ducks down and grabs hold of Darwyn’s wrist.  Now he starts to twig, and as his eyes narrow while he lunges forward she just speaks that strange soundless sensory word while the halfling doesn’t even have a chance to try and struggle, barely even managing to squeak:  “Wait –”  before they’re both gone.

I don’t even bother trying to follow where they’re going to now as I just take advantage of the old pirate’s momentary distraction as his intended target just vanishes right in front of him in that strange gaping half-glimpsed emptiness, the tiny prowler along with her.  I lunge forward and whip the sword around low, hoping to get under his arm on the left, thinking I might be able to cut him open under the ribs and maybe end the fight before it’s had a chance to start.

Except he darts aside just as suddenly as I’m coming for him, and while he’s clumsy about it, caught out and almost throwing himself away from my blade, his footwork is smooth enough he almost makes it look effortless enough it could have fooled a lesser fighter.  I have to plant my feet and draw back into a wary guard in order to keep from overbalancing myself, but at least he’s in no position to take advantage of me in turn, instead taking two more large steps back, bringing him close to the wall now as he regards me with a much more cautious eye.

Now I hear more commotion further down the corridor, almost enough to make me shift my attention that way just long enough to check what’s happening, but I know well enough that it’s the rest of them trying to muster as Lady Naru comes out on the other side.  I manage to catch a rather harried oath of:  “For fuck’s sake, hold on!”  from Darwyn, then a deafening crack as there’s a less bright flash from that direction, followed by the sound of at least a couple of stumbling bodies, and more swearing.

I just hold my ground, my eyes still locked on Jammund as I take a wary step back and to the side again, uncomfortably aware now that I’m the only one still here on this side of their group.  Knowing full well that if I have miscalculated this I could well be overwhelmed in a matter of moments.

Thankfully he’s taking a chance as he shoots a sidelong glance to check on the unfolding scene, which gives me enough confidence to do the same.  Beyond him I catch sight of a smouldering, smoking crater in the middle of the passage, where the hedge wizard is starting to push himself up while the halfling looks ready to spit as she inspects her now smashed and ruined bow.  The imori’s just focusing on me though, carefully edging his way around Jammund’s side now as he holds his sword low and seems to be looking for an opportunity for his own attack.  Damn it … that’s not what I was hoping for …

“Fucking bitch … oh for … ORRIC!!!”  The frustration is sharp in Vandryss’ voice, her thick Tektehran accent giving it a particularly harsh edge, and while I can’t really see her through the haze of the smoke from the spell’s aftermath I’m sure she’s glaring daggers right now.  “Just end this shit!  It’s time!”

His eyes narrow as he growls something low and angry under his breath I can’t make out, but he’s focusing on me again.  “Oh for … just go!  I’ll hold this one here, I need you both to go!  Follow the plan, like we discussed!”

“What?”  This time it’s Tavarrat who speaks up, and I can hear a subtle edge of desperation in her voice.  “No, we can’t … I’m not leaving you!  Don’t be stupid Orric, just –”

“I fuckin’ mean it, Luthan!  Leave now!”

“Shit!”  I actually hear Vandryss spit, she does it with such ferocity, then she starts barking orders at the mercenaries around her with genuine fury.  “You lot!  Fucking get after them!  Right now, just do the job you were bloody hired for!  Stop them now, preferably permanently, like you’re supposed to!”

For a moment the hedge wizard and halfling just look at each other, then back at her, like they don’t understand the order, then he hefts his staff and reaches out with his free hand, offering it to her.  She looks at it for a long beat, and I know immediately what that’s about, making it instantly clear that she feels the same about porting as I do.  Then she shakes her head and takes hold, although she’s wincing as she does it … then he speaks his incantation and they’re both gone.  Leaving the imori, who’s looking back now, seeming to be wondering about his own role as he then turns back to me, baring his teeth as he must consider staying after all.

Beyond I can see the rest of them, the haze finally thinning enough again, catching sight of Tavarrat already making for the door behind them, reaching for the lock while Vandryss grabs hold of the half-orc before he can follow my friends.  Instead she drags him after as the warlock unlocks the door and stares out towards Jammund with a pining look for a beat while the other two enter before ducking through herself.

“Master Ixen, if you would, reckon your mates’d appreciate your company.”  Jammund hisses now, still maintaining eye contact with me.

“What?”  His face isn’t the only thing about him that seems more snakelike than anything else, his voice more of a rasping hiss than true speech, while his accent’s the thickest Abharetian I’ve ever heard.  “No, I’m here to fight, and this one here will give me –”

“I have this.”  There’s a cool warning to Jammund’s tone now as he lets more of a growl enter his voice.  “You heard my colleague, go do your job.  Y’already took the money, go and fucking earn it.  Before they let the rest of ‘em in here and complicate matters.”

The way the imori looks at me now makes it abundantly clear he wants so badly to ignore him and just come at me, and I find myself tensing in anticipation as a fresh tingle of bitter adrenaline starts coursing through me.  I wonder what Jammund would actually do if he did, if he’d just back off and let it happen, follow his friends or go after mine instead, or if he’d use the distraction and gang up on me with this terrifying beast.  Neither likelihood much appeals to me – even on his own I genuinely don’t know if I actually could stand against this one …

“Fuck …”  Taking a long step back, this Ixen fellow starts to withdraw with a frustrated growl, baleful bright eyes narrow as he keeps then locked on me, finally pointing his sword my way as he adds:  “Maybe our paths will cross again, I would certainly hope so.  Until then …”  He watches us both for several more crabbing steps before finally turning and breaking into a run in the same direction the rest of his crew went.

Unable to restrain myself, I clear my throat and yell out with all I can:  “SULIN!!!  DARWYN!!!  WATCH YOUR BACKS!!!  THERE’S MORE COMING!!!”

Jammund cocks his brow, that crooked little smile returning now.  “Mind what’s in front o’ you, lass.  Your fight’s here, not with them.”

Vandryss going through that door instead of following the others makes me uncomfortable, whether she went with Tavarrat or not.  After the threats this bastard made towards Gael, it worries me greatly that they’ve gone to do awful harm to my friend, enough that I’m already starting to regret my decision to stay here for a one-on-one fight instead.  I have to fight my way through him to get to them now, while that cruel bitch could have killed them already.  I don’t have time for this.

So I just growl:  “I’ve got wits enough for you.”  under my breath, shifting my stolen sword forward in a low two-handed guard … and charge him.

His eyes widen considerably as I rush him with my sword already swinging, letting me know I’ve caught him unaware enough at least for a chance as he takes another step back and starts to twist, trying to parry my stroke.  So I turn it into a feint as I suddenly duck left and run up the wall to get my foot up high enough to launch myself with sufficient force to bring my sword down swift and heavy on him from above.

Only for him to turn into it with a startled grunt and bring his sword up just in time to catch the blow across its flat, bringing his other hand up at the last to firm his grip up a little.  In the end the force of my intended blow still drives both of our blades down far enough he has to bend significantly to his side to keep my edge from cutting high into his shoulder after all, finally stopping it a bare inch short of biting home.  I grit my teeth and push harder, trying to force it into him after all, but he’s stronger than I originally expected, his rangy limbs holding surprising power despite his clear age.  He’s straining as hard as I am, but holding up impressively well.

In the end it starts to feel like a stalemate, and while I know I could probably win in a battle of attrition if I decided to just wait him out I just can’t afford the time right now.  So I finally pull back quick with a frustrated snarl and spring away to open up space between us, mindful in case he can muster enough speed to attack after all while I withdraw.  Instead he just staggers back a step himself, gasping as he sucks in fresh breath, instead just winded for the moment but strong enough at least to keep his sword up now, pointing it at me with a steady enough hand to keep me beyond arm’s length as he composes himself.

His eyes dancing as he regards me.  “That was … sneaky, you got some moves.  Strong too.”

Narrowing my eyes, I don’t answer him, instead just taking a few steps to the side, approaching the wall again.  Not quite enough room to circle, not in this relatively tight corridor.  Judging what moves are actually available to me right now, since he’s clearly shown he’s got some talent of his own.  He just watches me, getting his breathing under control again, and I see the wheels turning behind his eyes now, thinking like I am.  Evaluating the threat, adjusting his plan accordingly.  Meanwhile my overall problem remains the same, I still have to get past him.

So I suck in a frustrated breath through my teeth and take a step closer before planting my feet, keeping my sword low now as I loosen my grip up a little.  Watching his eyes.

I don’t have to wait long, catching his quick glance to my right just before he lunges and twisting accordingly, but staying loose in case it’s a clever feint instead.  But he comes in as I expected, and as I dance aside I bring my sword round, hoping to cut him down while he’s still turning in response.  Except that he twists aside when I swat my blade towards him, ducking under my stinging slash before wheeling about on wide feet and trying to cut up under my defences after.  I have to spring back to avoid the blow, and skip away with my heart in my mouth, finally winding up with my back to the wall once I’ve opened enough distance between us.

Slowly realising I’m past him now, I risk a quick glance up the corridor that’s now behind me, empty save for the charring from Lady Naru’s spell marking the carpet and bottom of the wall.  Nothing between me and the door now, then.  I could just run for it right now.

Except he’s still too spry for me to risk turning my back on him right now, and as I narrow my eyes he must work out what I’m thinking.  He takes the first step towards me, cautious even as he gives his sword a cocky little flourish, and I grit my teeth as I step away from the wall, lowering the sword so it just hangs loose at my side as I wait for him on looser feet.  Trying a different approach now.

Cocking his head, he pauses for a long moment as he looks me over again.  Reevaluating me.  I fight the urge to growl in frustration and take a few light, dancing steps towards him, hoping he’ll just take the bait and end my waiting.

Instead he just frowns, the smile fading quickly as he takes a wary step to his side, starting to crouch as he lowers his sword too, letting me come in, so I slow my approach, not planting my feet yet but continuing to bait him as I wait just outside easy reach.  Trying to open my jaw now as I fight to keep myself loose.

When he comes this time he moves with more caution, but with a similar lightness of step that almost makes me miss the feint when he makes it.  His sword comes swift enough I nearly miss the swipe, so I just stop thinking and respond, and while my own stolen blade is heavy and really not built for wielding one-handed, it parries quick and clean enough to make him dance back.  I press before he can entirely recover, aiming a few swift, darting jabs at his centre of mass while I jump forward, keeping loose as I step with light feet, hoping I can harry him into the wall now as he backs up while striking each jab aside.

Instead he finally wheels aside, again trading places with me as the limited width of the passage makes true circling difficult.  This time when he backs up he doesn’t leave me waiting long, coming quick with a high attack that I don’t bother trying to parry, instead just ducking aside and rushing past him to open another gap between us.  As he turns I skip backwards on the balls of my feet, beckoning him in with my free hand.

This time when he frowns at me for a beat before letting a wary huff go and then charging I plant my feet firm at the last and step back onto my trailing foot, extending the sword before me in a firm, locked thrust pointed directly at his chest.  He barely manages to arrest his charge enough to stumble aside, and when he staggers into the wall I break out of my stance with sharp, hungry speed, swinging the sword in a deft flourish while I wind up my attack, bringing my other hand up to add strength to the stroke.

He stays where he is, likely realising when he sees me coming he doesn’t have time or good enough footing to spring aside so he just swings his sword up into his free hand to meet my stroke.  He just manages to get it up in time, stopping my blade again, and we lock up, him gritting his teeth after finally managing to plant his feet as he fights to keep me a bare blade’s width shy while I again strive to drive my own edge into him, this time going for his throat.  The steel between us scrapes and squeals under the strain we’re putting on it, but both blades are too well made, and we’re too evenly matched in strength still, so neither of us are going to win a shoving match.

Growling low in my face, the tendons standing right out in his throat while his face is flushing red, a condition I suspect is frustratingly is similar to my own right now,Jammund snarls:  “For Thorin’s sake … what exactly is the fucking plan here, luv?  You tryin’ to wear me down?  It’s starting to look like you’re getting’ tired as me right now …”

“Oh … will you just … shut the fuck up?”  I try to shove a little harder, but it’s like I have no more strength to give, every joint in me seems to be locked tight while all my muscles, from my arms and back right down to my thighs and calves, are screaming for this to just be over.  He’s got a point, I don’t know how much more of this I can actually take.

Seems like he’s trying to do much the same thing, working on bringing his right arm up now but only succeeding in turning his wrist a bit to raise his elbow a foot or so, while his breath is a tight, wheezing hiss … then he lets out a winded snarl at the same time that his whole upper body twists.  We’re locked so tight together right now I can’t do anything in response, the movement’s so sudden I just wind up going with his motion so the sword gripped like a vice by my fingers jumps up and to the right, driven hard into the wall by his head.  The edge bites into the plaster with a squeaking scrape that shrieks in my ears and I’m immediately overbalances as I have to stretch to prevent the weapon from getting torn right out of my grip.  Meanwhile he twists out of our broken lock, dragging his own sword down with wicked speed as he does so.  And I’m not wearing a single scale of armour …

The only thing that saves me from getting carved right open on the spot is timing, my momentum spinning me around as I’m thrown aside so that his blade glances me with a fairly shallow cut that mostly just slices meat.  Even so, the pain is instant and significant, a line of white hot agony opening under my left arm, and pure survival instinct takes over as I stumble away, almost falling as I wheel away from him.  The only mercy is that suddenly my breathing comes easier as the corset’s significantly loosened,  but as I feel hot wetness immediately start to spread over my hip and leg my head starts to go light as I realise that’s my blood.  Shit … not again, I just got over the last time …

Stumbling away, I keep moving to try and open some ground between us until my back meets the wall and my legs almost give out under me.  I let myself collapse just enough to start clawing some focus back, but I can’t breathe in anywhere near as deep as I’d like while my side flares with fresh pain from each expansion of my ribs.  It’s making it hard enough to concentrate, but when I finally chance a look down I see that my whole left leg’s already slick with blood, the cloth of my skirts a much darker shade of red than the dress Lady Naru fashioned.  I reach up now with my shaking hand and try to staunch the flow, but I can’t manage much more than a prod before a greater agony lights up right through me and I actually swoon for a moment, barely managing to keep from collapsing on the spot.  Somehow I claw my way back to full consciousness but it’s a hard thing indeed.

Fuck … he actually did some damage here, more than any other time tonight I’m thoroughly lamenting the fact that I was forced to come here with no bloody armour at all.  Even a few layers of light boiled leather would surely have been better than this …

The only real saving grace for me right now is that Jammund hasn’t attacked while I’ve been comprehensively distracted, but then when I finally manage to blink enough to regain focus I can see he’s still doubled against the other wall.  He’s still breathing heavily, his sword barely gripped in loose fingers hung at his side while he’s propped on his knee with the other hand, only now raising his head to look my way as he pants away.  He looks pretty pissed off, but there’s real weariness there in his face too, showing me that, while he clearly wants to murder me more than ever before, right now he can’t actually muster the strength to do it.  Unfortunately I’m almost certain he’s going to get his second wind significantly before I do.

Meanwhile time keeps on slipping through my fingers as I remember that I can’t afford to keep floundering here right now.  Never mind that I’m clearly hurting, I still need to finish this quickly.  So I grit my teeth and mentally prepare myself for what I know I have to do as I force my legs to straighten out a little more, my back too, drawing myself back up to something like my proper height as I try to tighten my grip on my stolen sword … then jam my hand firmly down against the wound in my side and barely manage to bite back the rising scream as the sudden flare of more acute pain wakes me right up again.  I push myself away from the wall in the same moment and strive forward, my first steps a very clumsy stagger before I start to wrestle a little more focus and balance into my movements.  Letting the sword drag by its point on the floor for the moment as I force myself forward a step at a time, saving what strength I have for when I actually need it.

Jammund sees me coming, of course, his eyes narrowing as he lets another winded grunt out, and he shoves himself up too, starting to shift around me as he stumbles into the middle of the corridor, trying to flank me now, I realise.  I wheel around to face him as I do my best to plant my feet, pulling in another relatively deep breath that makes my ribs ache but does at least stoke my growing anger, adding fuel to the fire I use to focus.  Watching him as he considers me for a long beat, wary now in spite of clearly being In significantly better condition at the moment.

Very slowly, I drag the sword up from where its resting against the floor, raising it as well as I can between us, shifting my trailing foot back as I try to effect a guard while I’m still gripping my side with my offhand.  Even though I’ve managed to get the weapon up, I’m not so confident that I’ll actually be able to wield it right now when it comes to actual fighting …

Then he stops biding his time and comes for me, not bothering with a feint given my condition but instead just slashing up under the open side of my defences, and I stop thinking again, just letting my instinct and muscle memory take over now.  It’s all I have left under the circumstances.  My footwork’s wilfully clumsy as I don’t so much dance back as stumble, but somehow it’s coordinated enough that I don’t just trip and fall down as I manage to parry and counter every one of his swift, slicing attacks.

Even so, I’m not fighting back at all, simply letting him drive me back as I just defend myself.  He slowly starts to wear me down, my movements growing more desperate and less precise as my focus starts to slip, my limbs growing heavier under his punishment, the weight of the weapon in my one remaining good hand and the encroaching exhaustion from my wound.  I can’t keep this up much longer, and he knows it, so he just continues to work me back, trying with each attack to work his way through my defences but clearly growing more confident with each passing second that I’m as likely to falter on my own now.

Finally he drives in a particularly wicked thrust that I just barely manage to turn aside, but then he twists his lighter, quicker blade around and twists my own weapon around, causing me to stumble while my wrist bends badly and my grip falters.  The hilt slips free of my weakened fingers and even as the sword rattles off to the side he’s already following through, not with his own blade but a hard kick to my stomach.  The brutal impact must batter the wind right out of me, but I really don’t notice, the sympathetic explosion of fresh pain in my side as I’m pounded back is all that I really notice, exacerbated by a second flare when I land on my back a few feet further down the corridor.

My head swims as I come worryingly close to passing out after all, and I’m a long beat blinking up again before I manage to claw back enough watery, tear-blurred focus to catch sight of him staggering up.  He’s breathing heavy again, at least letting me know that he still hasn’t fully recovered from our previous struggle just before he cut me open, meaning that his subsequent burst of impressive violence must have taken a deal more out of him that he let show.  That being said, as he towers over me now with his sword still firmly in hand I doubt he’s going to need to work too hard now to finish me off.

Even so, I still muster up just about enough paltry strength to rummage under my skirts to slip out the remaining knife still strapped to my thigh, although as I work to raise it between us now I doubt I have the strength to actually use it.  Looking up at him as he pauses to ponder the blade, then glances back up to meet my eyes, it’s clear enough he must come to the same conclusion.  A slow, weary smile starts to creep across his lips, and a cold chill of inevitable dread rolls over me as I realise I’m about to die.

Then his back arches as he gasps in surprise and sudden, pained shock, a long, lethally sharp length of tapering pointed steel suddenly erupting from a little left of the centre of his chest with a surprisingly heavy burst of blood.  The jet’s powerful enough for more than a few drops to splash my face, making me blink in startled surprise, and it must be a match to the look on his face because he clearly can’t believe what’s just happened as he gapes down at the long blade rammed right through his heart.  As the strength leaves his arms and they drop to his sides his own sword slips from his slackening fingers to bounce away across the floor, then the blade’s the only thing holding him up as his legs follow suit.  His mouth works for a few moments as he tries to speak, but nothing’s coming, then his eyes turn glassy before the light just leaves them entirely and his face goes slack, his head slumping forward.  Orric Jammund expires without any ceremony at all.

“He’s …”  I gasp as even the effort to speak makes my side scream now.  “Oh fuck … ah … he’s dead, Kesla.  You can let him down.”

The seemingly massive sliver of steel is swiftly drawn back out of the corpse and it drops all at once like a limp ragdoll, revealing my friend as she hobbles back a few steps, very much favouring one leg while the other’s planted stiff out to her side.  “Yeah … oof … figured you needed help when I heard you shouting.  Took me a while to get here, mind.”  She blinks down at the body for a moment before finally turning to me, and her eyes quickly widen as she gets a proper look at the state I’m in.  “Oh … oh fucking hell, Shay!  Not again … gods, why is it always you?”  Lowering her sword, she has to take another clumsy, swaying stumbling step to the side to reorient herself before she starts to move towards me.

“No!  Kesla, there’s no time!  Get to Gael!  Do it now!”  I point to the door, my desperation filling my voice now.  “Quick!”

TO BE CONTINUED ...