#locked labyrinth: west

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 124: Visoria; Visorian Plateau, Part 2

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Lots of blood drinking (+ its underlying issues), suggestive themes, mention of bodily fluids, and at least dubious consent for vampire turning ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Bury Me

Leon had reached a row of converted Victorian-style residential buildings in the Lower West Side of Uptown Raccoon City. Tall, stained glass windows lined their exterior, accented with a mixture of gabled and Mansard roofs. Pointed arches embellished with corbels and fretwork adorned the structures, detailing their rich architectural history. Despite them appearing frozen in time, harking back to the 19th century, everything else had been modernized for their inhabitants.

Scanning his keycard on the reader, he slipped in through the back entrance and hurried towards the rarely used service elevator that was stationed out of sight in a narrow corridor at the rear end of the building. He swiped his card again to gain access to his specific apartment floor, punching the button several times erratically, even though it had already lit up on the first try. Upon noticing that he had accidentally smudged blood from his hands onto it, he muttered a string of curses while using the cuff of his shirt to wipe it off.

Holding you close, he planted a desperate kiss against the crown of your head, as if by some miracle you would wake up from this nightmare, safe and sound in his arms. Your body temperature had dropped considerably, and with each passing second, he could feel your vitals waning as your life force ebbed into oblivion.

“Come on, stay with me,” he begged, his visage crumbling under the weight of grief, and out of habit, he thumbed at the gold cross pendant hanging from his necklace. If there was a god, he would let you live.

As soon as the elevator doors parted with a resonant ding, he sped out towards the only apartment door on the top floor. Feeling the side of the frame for a familiar indent, he pressed against it, and a matchbox sized cache slid out, containing a crescent shaped device. Attaching it to another metallic apparatus that he carried around in his pocket, he slotted it through the keyhole while simultaneously adjusting what looked like gears of an old-fashioned clock into place. 

Despite all these years, he still had a penchant for puzzle solving, seeing as his former workplace, the Raccoon Police Station, had been a labyrinth in itself. And what better way to put his hobby to use than to invest into the security of his haven, by creating his own intricate lock mechanisms, complete with false walls and hidden passageways. It may seem a little over the top, but sometimes it was comforting to lose his nights designing and crafting the things that had made him human in the beginning.

With a satisfying click, the heavyset door creaked open on its hinges, revealing an immaculately kept and minimalist loft. He dashed in, shutting the door behind him before pushing the coffee table away and setting you down gently on the rug. You were the only blemish in the room, bleeding out from underneath him, staining the fabric in the pattern of angel’s wings.

He felt your pulse, weak and unsteady, and you were nearly gone. It crushed him to see you like this, your skin ashen and pale — the only shade of blue he never liked. As you lay there unresponsive like a corpse before him, he knew he needed to go through with what he had planned for you all long along. Even so, he had a hard time coming to terms with it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He was meant to woo you, give you a taste of what the unlife had to offer, bring you over to his side and both of you would, what—? Live happily ever after? 

Fucking hell, Leon. What the fuck were you thinking? he swore at himself internally. Ada’s words came back to haunt him. She was right, he had let his emotions get ahead of him again. Regardless, he had to fix this mess, and letting you die was out of the question, as was turning you into a mindless ghoul addicted to a blood bond. No, he would never do that to you.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, brushing the strands of your hair, which had clumped together in dried blood and sweat, out of your face. You were so deathly cold in your slumber…

Then, he broke the first of his promises and drained you dry. Images of you flooded his mind again as he latched his mouth onto your neck. He could feel your fears, your joys, and your sorrows. The first steps you had taken as a child, captured through the lens of an old home video; the family and friends you would leave behind; long, solitary walks in the woods; dancing your heart out in smoky nightclubs; ceiling-high shelves filled to the brim with musty books and DIY costumes you’d pieced together from scraps; every trinket and memento — all the signs of life that had made you happy.

There was no time for regrets. He could make you happier, he vowed. He will, he had to.

At the very last drop, he licked the bite marks close and let go, slashing his wrist against his teeth before placing it to your lips. His own sanguine fluid coated your lips in a cherry red stain, restoring a semblance of life to your otherwise waxen complexion, as it dripped down your throat. Slowly, your jaw began to move, lips puckering up as it suctioned against the open wound, the tip of your tongue licking across it over and over again like the sweetest nectar you’d ever savored.

“There you go, angel,” he panted, feeling the pressure grow taut around his wrist as he stroked your hair tenderly with his other hand. “Just a bit more.”

He concentrated on the act, investing the power of his vitae into you, passing on the curse of Caine which he had carried with him all this while. On top of that came the Bane and Compulsion of his clan, as well as its Disciplines and strengths.

You couldn’t explain why your body reacted so naturally to it, but your appetite for his vitae was insatiable, like an insurmountable tidal wave heading towards shore. Your eyes flew open and you caught his ocean blue gaze. Gasping for breath, you clamped down on his wrist even harder, earning you a gratifying moan that fell from his lips, as they twisted into an expression of excruciating euphoria.

Likewise, you felt the build up of sheer bliss with an underlying tinge of agony within you, as you continued drinking from him, unable to stop yourself, no matter how much you tried. Every fiber of your being burned like a warm, inviting flame. You were the epitome of a phoenix in a pyre, combusting and being reborn again, walking barefoot across searing hot coal unharmed, as the fire raged on. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, into eternal life.

And then he appeared before you like an ethereal, ghostly apparition, kneeling in the pews of a cathedral you didn’t recognize, praying fervently to a crucified man on a wooden cross. Subsequently, the scene switched to a hectic office space, permeated with the shrill sound of phones ringing and papers flying in every direction. There he stood in the center of the room, like the eye of a storm, a handgun secured in his holster as he moved the pins around on a crime board. One vision blurred into the other and it felt as if you were seeing his past, present and future all at once.

An immense rush of ecstasy filled your senses at the final image of you riding him like a horse, as if you were experiencing it for yourself firsthand. Sweat poured down your naked bodies as you rolled your hips back and forth against his lasciviously. His calloused hands squeezed the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to move faster as he thrust up into you. In the throes of passion, you threw your head back and cried out in excess, but found it muffled against his wrist as you abruptly returned to reality. Your eyes went straight to his, and the knowing look on his face gave it away, confirming that you had partaken in the last vision together.

The Beast was gnawing at the cage in his chest again as you suckled more of his vitae. A hunger arose within him and he was aware that the deed had been done. The primary hurdle was getting you to stop.

“Angel, my love,” he called to you softly, “That’s all I can give you.”

You had heard every word he said; they were crystal clear, but your head remained fuzzy, as if it were wrapped in layers of cotton wool, dampening your thoughts. He could see it in your glazed eyes that you were unable to register what he had requested of you, but he couldn’t bear to tear himself away.

“Please, angel,” he whimpered. “Let go.”

At that point, something in you clicked. Perhaps it was the sight of a broken man, crouched in the middle of his living room, weary from all the bloodshed and the cruel hand fate had dealt him tonight. You wanted to do everything you could to soothe his pain. The same pain that had crept up in his voice the night he put you to bed, and when he had wondered out loud in the park if you could accept him for who he was.

Loosening your grip, you tilted back, allowing him to retract his hand as you ingested the rest of his vitae in your mouth. Nothing could ever come close to the intensity of what you had just felt. Gradually, you came down from the high and your ragged breathing evened out. A numbing weight pressed against your body as your eyes fluttered before closing. Was this it? Was this the end? All you could think of was what a peaceful way it was to die.

A shiver ran down his spine as Leon caressed your cheek, watching you fall back to sleep again. Even his own Embrace hadn’t gone this far. Of course it had been the best thing he had felt in the world, but this, with you? It was on a completely different plane. The memories, the shared sexual intimacy, how—? Did he hallucinate that? He still hadn’t figured it out. It was something for maybe the Tremere, unfortunately, to advise on.

But he had bigger things to worry about now. This was only a temporary respite before you would awake in torment, and he needed to find a way to ease that as quickly as possible, despite being so ill-prepared. It would be the first lesson he’d have to teach you and one of the worst.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A set of steely arms wrapped around you the moment your body jolted upright as you came to. Disoriented and unable to think straight, you struggled to break out of their hold as you heard Leon’s voice in your ear, “Shhh… it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me.”

You tried to speak but only unintelligible growls escaped your mouth and you continued thrashing about wildly, as a gut-wrenching pain ripped through your flesh and bones. It felt like hundreds of rats were clawing their way out of your stomach as your eyes searched the room rabidly for the offending source that was driving you insane.

And then you saw him. A man in a fancy business suit, unconscious but propped up against the wall. His hands were bound with rope and a nasty bruise swelled at the side of his head. You let out a torturous wail when it finally dawned on you that the very substance you had been lusting after was his blood. It smelled incredible from where you were seated and you were frothing at the mouth like a deranged animal.

What the fuck was going on?! your mind screamed, while you made guttural noises in retaliation. Is this—? Oh god, no! What did he do to me?

There was a persistent throb in your corner teeth, as if they had been plucked out by force and something foreign had been put in its place. You ran your tongue over them, they were elongated and sharp. Just like-

Leon? He pulled you flush against his chest, trapping you in his iron grip, and with a sense of urgency, he spelled out, “Listen to me, you’re not gonna like this, but you need to feed on him.”

Shaking your head violently, your eyes rolled back as if you were possessed by a demonic entity, while you fought with all your might against him and your overzealous hunger. No, no, no, fuck that! I won’t—!

“If you don’t, you will lose control and murder everyone in your path,” he explained.

Noticing how you continued to resist him vehemently, he added, “You won’t have to kill him, I can show you how.”

You whined, scratching at his hands and crying like a hapless pup. There was no need for you to articulate it in words. He understood everything you were going through — the inner turmoil and mental dilemma at your first feed. Except, you had it worse off than him. At least back then, he knew what he was getting himself into and accepted it. You just didn’t have the privilege of time.

Shambling across the floorboards, he brought you closer to the man. “It’s not easy in this state, but you’re strong, and smart. I know you can.” He paused, shifting his grip on you so that he could point out an obscured trail along the man’s neck. “You need to hit one of the arteries or veins for a clean feed. Usually, you’d take it slow and be more careful, but we don’t really have an option tonight.”

Suppressing another painful whine, you tried your utmost to follow his instructions as a beast-like creature went berserk in your chest, bashing it way through your ribcage. Focusing on the area he had identified, you could more or less make out the veins protruding from his skin, like an ultrasound.

“Here, the jugular,” he indicated. “You can start with that, but don’t drain him fully. I’ll help you to stop, just remember to lick it close at the end, okay?”

Nodding, you sobbed out a vague agreement, though your feet were kicking out furiously, itching to be set free. It felt like your mind and body had been separated in two, and neither worked in tandem with each other. The scent of this man’s blood was overpowering, it was making you giddy.

As soon as he let you go, you lurched forward, grabbing the man’s neck roughly as you plunged your teeth into the vein you’d singled out. A viscous, intoxicating liquid enveloped your mouth as you had your fill. Raw energy flowed from one end to another, restoring function to your organs and limbs, as they began to come under your control again. The more you drank, the clearer your mind became, and the Beast within you quietened, satiated from the elixir that seemed to nourish your entire being and soul. Soul? Did you still have one, especially after this?

From a distance you heard your name, accompanied by an appeal to cut it short. Once again, you were thrown into the depths of a battlefield, where each side struggled for dominance as its victor. It felt too good to end it here. Why should you obey? a voice inside you sneered.

A pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind. Leon’s tone was stern and resolute: “Stop, lick the wound now.”

His command reverberated through your hollow chest, rattling your bones as you submitted to him. Swabbing your tongue over the puncture site, you released your prey as Leon pulled you away. Splotches of bright crimson covered the man’s attire as well as your own. It had been a messy affair.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.” His voice was tender again, as he turned your face to his. Dragging his fingertip along the spilled blood trickling down your throat, he scooped up the remains and sucked it into his mouth.

By now, he was an expert in cleaning up after his elders, having done his fair share of dirty errands. That’s what neonates like him were good for. At least it would come in handy tonight. The man was still alive, drowsy as hell, but his heart was beating. He had taught you well.

“You did this to me.” The accusation rang like the toll of a bell in his ears, as he watched your expression change into one of pure hatred and disgust. 

But before you could continue on with the verbal onslaught you had been saving up for him, a debilitating pain struck, blinding you in the process as you clutched your abdomen and trembled turbulently. What—? When will this ever end?

You were physically dealing with the bitter aftermath of being snatched from the hands of death and flung into rebirth through abnormal means. Anything within you that didn’t need to be there anymore would be cleansed in the next few hours, as your body was dying and disposing of the needless waste. It was not like this in the movies. You wanted to laugh at the outright ridiculousness of it, but all you managed were terrified shrieks. 

It was humiliating to be brought down this low in front of him — the man who went from someone you had started to fall for to the last person in the world you wanted to be in the same room with. You hated him for what he had done to you. The fire came back, but this time it was like being burnt at the stake; it was harrowing. 

To Leon, you could never degrade yourself in his eyes. He stayed with you the whole time, rubbing reassuring circles on your back as you writhed in agony, dirtying his rug with vomit and piss. 

Though she had cared in her own way, Ada never did this for him. He remembered his transformation like it was just yesterday. The serene peach walls of her bathroom, equipped with fluffy towels, aromatic diffusers, and soft music playing in the background, like a spa he couldn’t enjoy. He had been tucked away safely in the bathtub, the door locked on him, as he shivered uncontrollably like a junkie. She couldn’t bear to see him like this — his face covered in snot, stinking up the place with a vacant look in his eyes. It was a mess, but a controlled one.

With you, he wanted it all — the good and the bad. He couldn’t offer you the luxuries that Ada had with him, but he would be there beside you, taking care of you like the sire he desired to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━

There was a sense of déjà vu when you awakened for the second time that night. Or was it morning? You couldn’t be sure anymore. Somehow, you had ended up on a double bed that wasn’t your own and in clothes that you’d never wear — not unless you were a lingerie model on the cover of a magazine spread, or one of those rich housewives looking to spice things up in the bedroom. In your last conscious moments, you thought you had soiled yourself, but now you were squeaky clean. Did Leon—?

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil. 

You whipped your head in his direction, and saw him leaning against the banister of the stairs that connected the partially open, mezzanine-like level to the main floor below, which it overlooked. Out of a sense of self-preservation and modesty, you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly.

Stifling a laugh, he smiled at you bashfully like a teenage boy in front of his first crush. “It’s, um, my sire’s.” He gestured towards your outfit. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t have anything else.”

Sire? Letting yourself go, you peered down at the fitting lace chemise that clung to your body, still feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze, as you speculated over what he meant.

“It suits you,” he complimented, either oblivious to your bemusement or attempting not broach the subject at this point.

The remark he had made, even if with good intentions, made your blood boil. “Does turning me into a monster suit me?” you spat, getting up from the bed as you strode towards him in fury.

A flicker of remorse flashed across his eyes and his breath hitched. He thought he could stall for time and reconcile with you before having the talk, but he had been blindsided by your astuteness. Despite that, he tried to pacify you. “Angel…”

But you weren’t having any of it. “Shut up!” you hollered, slapping him hard across the face. The blow was harsh enough to send his head snapping to the side, leaving a vivid red handprint marked on his cheek. “I’m not your angel, and never will be!”

He could’ve punished you for your insolence, but chose to suck it up and tolerate it. You were clearly struggling to accept your new circumstances.

“Okay, I deserve that,” he conceded, gingerly rubbing the side of his face where it stung.

You didn’t seem to care though, in fact, you were absolutely livid to the point where you couldn’t speak. Casting him a venomous look of disdain, you drew in labored breaths, your chest rising and falling in rapid, heaving motions.

His watery eyes met yours, and you saw the pain and hurt brimming in them. “You would’ve died back there,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you withdrew from him, gripping the edge of the bedpost so intensely that a huge chunk of it broke off. Wait, just how strong were you now?

He glanced over at the damage and winced. Dammit, I liked that bed, he sighed to himself. 

“I wish I did,” you muttered, eyeing the piece of metal in your hand skeptically before chucking it to the side. “You could’ve done your job and buried me.”

That was when he lost his cool. “Don’t say that,” he hissed sharply, his gaze smoldering like dying embers, as he marched forward, seizing your wrist to prevent you from backing away. “I just wanted to help—”

“Help?” you questioned testily, challenging him head on with a fierce glare. “You forced me to drink some guy’s blood!”

“You would’ve died,” he reiterated, using the same excuse in a loop as if he never heard you.

“He could’ve died!” you retorted, with the same stupid line of argument that Leon had been falling back on each time.

“Well, he didn’t, and he’s fine!” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and huffed as he pivoted to one side, before turning back to shoot daggers at you. “A little anemic, but fine!” he expounded for good measure.

There was a slight pause until you fired back, “Go fuck yourself, Leon S. Kennedy,” letting every syllable of his full name roll off your tongue mockingly.

A low growl erupted from his sternum. He wanted to yank you roughly by the hair, throw you onto the bed and teach you a lesson. Jesus Christ, Leon, don’t go there. Get a hold of yourself! 

Instead, he bottled up his anger and composed himself. Releasing a deep, slow breath, he evened out his tone, reasoning with you. “Look, like it or not, you need to come to terms with… what you are.”

You hadn’t backtalked him yet; that was a good sign.

“If you want to survive these nights, then I’m the best shot you got.”

Even though you held nothing but contempt towards him in your heart at that very moment, you realized that ultimately, he had a point. And so, you grudgingly raised the white flag. “Fine,” you relented. “But I will never forgive you.”

Another compromise. He could work with that, for now.

[cilil]

AN: Another one for @angbangweek!

⚡︎ Prompt(s): Shapeshifting & mountains ⚡︎ Synopsis: Melkor and Mairon play an elaborate game of chase in the depths of Utumno ⚡︎ Warnings: Dragon daddy Melkor ⚡︎ Short oneshot (~600 words) | AO3

The halls and caverns under the mountain were vast, greater than even the halls of Aulë, a kingdom of stone and shadow in the bosom of Arda.

And there was a monster lurking in its depths. 

Mairon's breath came in small puffs of frosty white, visible in the cold air that surrounded him like a foreign force reaching and grasping for his warmth. He could sense that he had been spotted; the creature from below was on its way. 

Attempting to avoid capture, he ran. The patter of his feet echoed through the grand subterranean halls, almost unnaturally loud. His fiery locks bounced and billowed behind him like a flickering flame. From far away, yet drawing ever closer, Mairon heard claws on stone, rustling wings, the low growl of a mighty being pursuing its prey. 

He ran faster. His hunter followed. He was swift, yet no matter where he went, the sounds came closer. 

There was no escape either. Even his sharp senses found neither wind nor daylight within this icy labyrinth. 

Alongside the creature, Mairon heard his own heartbeat. It was fast now, erratic; it alone would betray his presence. Louder still were his breath and his feet, aching from sharp rocks and difficult terrain. 

At last he made it to a particularly great and spacious hall, reminiscent of a throne room. Before Mairon could even make sense of his surroundings, something large, winged and scaly rushed in, its mere presence so mighty that he was knocked to the ground and unable to continue fleeing. 

A clawed paw settled on his chest. It alone was big enough to almost cover him entirely. 

He was caught. 

His hunter was what would in later ages be known as a dragon, a huge reptilian creature with horns and wings and shimmering black scales. Gleefully, it lowered its snout to sniff him, then opened its fanged mouth to reveal a long, pink forked tongue and began licking him. 

"I caught you."

"You did," Mairon conceded and fell limp in its grasp. "I have been caught by the mighty Father of Dragons and King of Arda." 

He was almost disappointed when his words prompted his hunter to shift forms, the dragon shrinking until the tall, humanoid form of a great and terrible lord stood before him. The horns and wings remained, as well as a few patches of scales adorning grey skin, and Melkor looked down at him with bright purple eyes. 

He licked his lips. "Indeed. And now you are mine." 

Crouching swiftly to seize Mairon once more, he picked him up and held him like a groom would carry his bride. His tongue, still unnaturally long and forked, darted out to lick wet stripes across his face and neck. 

"Whatever shall be done to me now, lord?" Mairon asked, batting his eyelashes in faux deference. 

"I shall take you to my lair," Melkor purred, "and then you shall be part of my hoard, my prettiest and most precious gem, made from the Flame Imperishable itself..." 

"Ah! Such a terrible fate!" Mairon exclaimed theatrically. "Will perhaps a hero from the West come and save me, lest I be taken by the Dark One?"

"Nay," Melkor laughed, and his dragon tail swished back and forth gleefully. "There is none who could save you from me. You must yield to me, precious little flame, and be claimed as mine." 

Mairon pretended to swoon as he was carried down into the depths under the mountains by his supposed captor, an entirely too excited monstrous Vala. But the truth was that he was thrilled as well, impatient to see how their little game would continue — and which sinful, illicit acts would be performed upon him. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @sauron-kraut @urwendii @wandererindreams

[electronickingdomfox]

"The Price of the Phoenix" review

These are the naked voyages of naked Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise...

Published in 1977, and written by Marshak & Culbreath (editors of The New Voyages collection of short stories). I had already read some books by these same authors, and their hyperbolic, hyper-emotional writing is present here as well. There's something really awkward about their writing, and a lot of times I found myself re-reading passages, because I had no idea what was going on. To quote McCoy at one point: "Spock, will you speak English?" There's too much introspection, description of feelings and discourses for my taste. Also, the authors often use the characters to voice their own philosophical ideas, and their theories about alpha males, whether it fits the character or not. Overall, I don't think the novel felt very Trek-like, or that the characters were "right" (Spock, in particular).

The book is sufficiently weird to be worth the reading, though. According to the authors, it was personally approved by Roddenberry. It's also notorious for being quite dark and violent for TOS standards, and for having Kirk completely naked half the time. Which means, this is Roddenberry-sanctioned smut, no less.

Some spoilers under the cut.

The plot is very simple and straightforward. The Enterprise is visiting a rogue planet ruled by the giant Omne, who offers refuge for bandits all over the galaxy. The Romulan Commander (from The Enterprise Incident) is also there, negotiating with Omne. Kirk is presumed dead during an accident on the planet, but Omne reveals to Spock and the Commander that he has conquered death through a process to clone a person, with all his thoughts and memories intact. He offers a new, shiny Kirk clone, in exchange of Spock betraying the Federation, and the support from the Romulan Empire (the prize for the Commander would be keeping both Kirk and Spock for herself, after their betrayal). Things change once they discover that the original Kirk actually survived and is locked inside a subterranean labyrinth. Then Spock, the Commander and clone-Kirk storm the complex to rescue him, while getting into plenty of fist fights against Omne.

There's something reminiscent of Westerns in the one-on-one duels, and the general badass attitudes. It's probably intentional, given the Wild West motifs throughout the book. Spock dresses and talks like Clint Eastwood, which is... great. The Romulan Commander is also a total badass, and I liked her better in this novel than in the series episode. As counterpart, we have the scantily clothed Kirk clone, who's pretty cute and vulnerable, and develops a moving romance with the Commander. The love story, for once, has a happy ending. I liked them as a couple. Omne, the supreme alpha male, dressed in a black jumpsuit with a holster for his revolver, is an entertaining villain. Suitably obnoxious in his invincibility. I was a bit confused about his real motivations, though.

To summarize, even if I didn't particularly enjoy reading this novel, it was entertaining in its own crazy way. Also, Spock receives a kick in his groin. Consider that.

Spirk Meter: 11/10*. Yup. This novel is slashier than the series or movies ever were. Spock is willing to risk everything to save Kirk, even betraying the Federation. But that's not it. Things like that happened several times in the series, and it's the whole plot of the third movie. There are, however, a couple scenes that are the reason for this high rating. One happens when Spock mind melds with a totally naked Kirk clone. They move "surprisingly close" to each other, and there's an undeniably eroticism in the descriptions of Kirk being "warm" and "open" to Spock's touch. Not enough? Well, Spock also creates a bond with him, to monitor his movements. Another scene happens when Kirk (the original one) undresses Spock to treat his wounds. Of course, it goes without saying that Kirk's naked while doing so (because Omne treated his wounds previously, and didn't care to give him clothes). So yeah, Kirk gets to bounce his stuff around a lot, as the cheerful alpha male he is. One could argue that the fight in Amok Time surpasses this, since the sexual motif is explicit there. However, I think that the scenes from the book read as more erotic than anything Kirk has done with Spock (or any woman) in the series.

On another side of things, Omne's total obsession with Kirk is quite telling. One moment he's beating him to a pulp, and the next he's tenderly treating his wounds, and planning for them to spend a thousand years together in their bunker. If clone Kirk and the Commander is the main love story, it's obvious that Kirk and Omne are intended as a dark, twisted counterpart for that.

The great loser in all this is McCoy, who despite being the doctor, never got to treat any naked Kirk. He calls him gorgeous, though, and manages to touch his scars a bit while he's dressing. But I guess McCoy wasn't alpha enough for the authors. Sorry, Bones.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

[whumpacabra]

12. Up

Angst, escape attempt, firearm use, gunshot wound, referenced character death, referenced difficulty breathing, implied loss of consciousness

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

The Wolf hadn’t expected their ascent to the surface to be easy. (He was trying to keep his expectations for getting out of Hell alive low.) So, when the elevator shuddered to a stop still 30 meters from the surface, he was ready to toss open the access hatch and boost H to the top.

(Harrison. The dog tags around his neck said Harrison. Good name. The Wolf wanted a good name like that.)

“Oh Jesus fuck…” Harrison was shaky, weak from hunger and probably concussed. He did not look enthused to climb the ladder.

“Scared of heights?” The Wolf felt…well, he certainly wasn’t comfortable calling on the performance he had given the volunteers during his work here, but it was easier than trying to parse who he was without his handler.

(He killed him. His handler was dead. He made sure - he made so very sure that bastard wouldn’t so much as look at him again.)

Harrison’s laugh was breathy but sharp.

“Yes, actually.”

The Wolf shrugged the duffel over his shoulder, nodding to the smaller man.

“Go first. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“Then we’ll both fall, dumbass.”

“Maybe.” The Wolf gestured to the ladder, Harrison’s flashlight illuminating the maintenance scaffolding above. “We can get out through the access tunnels. They pop up in the garage.”

It wasn’t a far climb, but it was slow going with Harrison’s white knuckled caution.

“What happened to - to not knowing where we are?” Harrison was talking to keep his mind off of the long fall below. The Wolf swallowed back the fear of interrogation - it wasn’t like Harrison could hurt him on the ladder.

“I still don’t know. I just know the compound layout.” Vaguely. His time with his handler hadn’t incentivize him to remember things like corridor passages or floor plans. His handler did all the thinking for him; he was just a dog on a short leash.

“How long have you been here?” The question echoed in the elevator shaft, the steady movement of hands feet on the metal ladder muffling the Wolf’s response.

“Too long.”

He cast his eyes up, feeling tears welling again. (“Quit crying you little bitch.”) Harrison was waiting at the maintenance scaffolding and making a point to not look down the ladder while his hand blindly waited to help the Wolf up.

Funny thing, wasn’t it? Harrison helping him. Waiting for him. Not gunning him down in the Red Room when he had ample opportunity to leave both his torturers in that Hell. Logically, the Wolf guessed Harrison needed his guidance, his strength to escape.

Whatever happened after that probably wouldn’t be pleasant, but it was better than dying in the room that made him.

He strained his hearing, listening to the access tunnels. There were distant bootsteps, a company of four at most to the west. The Wolf gave his companion a nod, Harrison turning his handler’s keys in the lock.

The door creaked open, the chill sterility of the concrete tunnels and their LED lights almost nauseating compared to the dank, dim bunker they had left behind. It was a familiar labyrinth; his handler had led him through these tunnels on many occasions to different destinations.

The Wolf shuddered as they stepped into the hallway. Hopefully his navigation didn’t automatically lead them to the medical ward. The donor skin wrapped around his right arm itched at the memory.

He led without a word, gesturing for Harrison’s silence as they walked. Harrison’s breathing labored as he kept pace, but the Wolf couldn’t slow down. That party of four he heard earlier had split - patrolling different segments of the tunnels.

Easier for him to dispatch alone. Easier for them to raise the alarm if he wasn’t fast enough.

“Wolf, slow down.” Harrison’s breathing echoed off the white walls, chest heaving wheezing breaths. The Wolf grimaced, guilty impatience written on his face.

“There are patrols getting close, we need to keep moving.” He kept walking, but shortened his steps. Harrison still barely managed to keep up. They were making good progress - another few turns and they would be at the egress point to the vehicle bay. That place was always crawling with activity - it would be a necessary risk to get transportation they clearly needed for Harrison’s sake.

“I can’t. I - Wolf I need a break, just quick - ”

The patrol was too close, they had heard his companion’s gasping whispers. Boots were running in their direction.

The Wolf barely had time to drop the duffel bag behind a corner and all but throw Harrison into the same alcove, taking shelter on the other side of the intersection as bullets pinged down the hall. One soldier. He could take one soldier -

There was another coming up behind Harrison. Shit.

He stood, drawing their attention from the man huddled on the floor to the one now raising and aiming a pistol at their helmeted head. The Wolf felt hot lead bite into his right arm, but he barely flinched. His handler trained him well.

His own bullet found its mark in the soldier’s throat, but not before their twitching hands triggered a ricocheting bullet of their own. It bounced off the concrete wall, towards his face -

God, he hoped Harrison made it out.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

[sergeantsporks]

The Gilded Family is on vacation in The Human Realm. In-between National Parks, at a stopover in some west coast city, they decide to try an escape room.

Who manages to escape first?

Who escapes without causing property damage?

Who would find that activity the most fun?

Lake isn't STOKED about it. They're not losing their marbles being stuck/locked in a room, but they don't like it. They wouldn't do it again.

Dagger Wants Out Immediately. No Puzzles. Just Let Him Out. He WILL use that walkie talkie.

Novus is out of there in a flash. Puzzles and logic riddles are his jam. This is enrichment in his enclosure.

Jason's also out pretty quickly. He's read enough labyrinth/sphinx stories to have a pretty good puzzle solving mind

Sam is very meticulous about searching every inch of the room/overthinking every clue and ergo does not finish the puzzles in the time alotted. RIP.

Petro's pulled a door handle off

Similarly, the revenge squad has dismantled something that they were not intended to dismantle looking for clues. Hamlet and Meleager do most of the puzzle solving while Venari and Horus tear the room apart looking for clues.

Phoenix gets really far, but ultimately runs out of time. He was only a little bit off, though.

Silver is CONVINCED that the answer lies in the vents or some other crawl space and is trying to convince ppl to let them put Ghost in the vents to look for clues.

[the-infinite-dungeon]

A DnD5e Adventure Read Session 2 here

Read Session 3 here The Infinite Dungeon Game Session 1

DM note: Sadly I did not think about recording the first session of The Infinite Dungeon. Hence I am writing this summary based on memory, notes and the art produced after this first game. I have provided links to Art linked to specific scenes and characters in the post ahead. :)

Four individuals found themselves trapped within a cell to their own. Without recollection of how they found their way into this prison, they make their way to get out, whatever means necessary. Each person wakes up in a cell made of cobblestone walls, ground and ceiling. Iron bars including a locked iron door preventing them from simple escape. 

Guthrie @guthrie-odonto, a halfling with some of rather bird-like traits, escaped with some skill and force, picking the lock. Or at least he would have picked it, if it wasn't for tha fact, that he was able to slip right through the bars. Clearly that cell was not made with halflings in mind. Outside in the corridor to the left he discovered two jars. One of them was filled with pure water, the other one had a key hidden inside. Guthrie takes the key. Lyr@lexarga, a blue-skinned half-elf, used to the wild and stormy breeze of the ocean, now found herself trapped in a cell that barely provided any sound at all. The corridors were silent and all evenly lit, but no light source to be seen. After using some brute force she started wandering the lone and strange corridors. Damien @abstractbabble, a human with a very fancy jacket, escaped his cell by popping the lock, but soon encountered a creature that seemed to have it out for him.

Lorem @moreclaypigeons, a human wanderer of the celestial planes, escaped using one of the many keys she held on to. While still sorting her thoughts she was attacked by a creature similar to the one aiming for Damien in another place. The skull bugs as players and characters would soon call them, are skulls with wings that look like rotten leafs. Their lower jaw is missing, but the upper row of teeth is sharp and instead of fangs they have two long fangs, similar in function to sickles. And unfortunately just as sharp as sickles. 

Lyr ends up in a direct encounter with the skullbug that attacked Damien, but Damien decides he’s not having it, instead of helping her, he dashed down the twisted corridors of this labyrinth, only to be almost shot by a sacred flame, cast by Lorem, who just happened to miss her shot. Damien in return to almost having his precious jacket burnt, flips her off.

And just as Damien keeps running, his path is blocked by yet another skullbug rising from a pile of bones. The gelatinous orb within the open skull shimmers in a variety of bright colours. The skullbug slashes with its claws and deals some gruesome injuries to Damien’s beloved jacket.

Damien, taken aback, considers his options, when an arrow strikes the critter down. From the other side of the corner, Guthrie pokes out his head, having taken down the enemy in one shot.

Soon both of them go back, finding Lorem who is taking down another skullbug, Lyr has cleaned up her mess as well. The skullbugs disintegrate and the characters more or less team up, as the players come to understand the lay of the land.

As the group slowly comes to an understanding that all of them have the same objective, getting out of this place, Damien notices that his jacket has been mended. It’s as good as new. None of the other players claim credit for this. Exploring the remaining paths, they end up discovering a 5th cell in the northeast of the map. The cell is empty, there is some rope hanging from the ceiling. On their way through the narrow corridors leading up to said area, they find paper with some writing on it, but after reading, what seems to be the draft for a novel, they soon move on.

At  the center of the labyrinth, west of which there is a set of stairs waiting to be climbed.

As the group walks up the stairs, white fog blocks their vision, before they emerge all together on a new floor, which seems to be a circular communal room, of some sorts. Not much time remains to investigate, as the group is immediately attacked once again by skullbugs. This time it’s a group of them, one of them significantly larger than the others.

While Lorem, Lyr and Guthrie do their upmost to take down the skullbugs, who are definitely stronger than the ones they fought previously, Damien tries to keep himself and his beloved jacket safe.

As combat continues, Damien engages as well. While Lyr uses vicious Mockery, Damien just uses "normal mockery." Lorem, in a moment of strategic brilliance takes down two enemies in one shot with a fire bolt. In an effort to take down the last of the enemies, Lyr, who has been mostly relying on her weapons and supportive magic, casts thunderwave.

In the chaos that ensues, Damien fails to save himself and takes serious injury away from the powerful magic that rumbles through the room. Lyr, shocked, by what happens, apologises and moves over to heal Damien, as their enemies have finally been taken out. Or so they thought. A pile of rubble turns out to be a vicious mimic, as it is being poked by Lyr. As Guthrie attempts to shoot the creature, he misses in a critical fashion and instead Lorem takes an arrow wound to her arm. As the “WHAT THE FUCK!” moment ensues, Damien fails to get out of range, the mimic sees it’s opportunity and attacks. 

And just as Damien is torn to shreds by a pile of vicious bricks, and his companions watch this scene, the group’s vision turns white. The next thing they know... Four individuals found themselves trapped within a cell to their own. 

End session 1

[linuxgamenews]

Escape Simulator first-person puzzler tests you in Portal

Portal Escape Chamber launches for the Escape Simulator game completely Free on Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC. Pine Studio's dedication and hard work continue to impress. Available now on Steam with 100% Positive reviews. If you've been searching for a great game that blends strategy, teamwork, and a splash of science fiction, it's the new Portal Escape Chamber DLC. Recently launched, this interactive puzzle adventure lets you don the virtual lab coat. While you step into a world that pays homage to the iconic Portal universe on Linux. Portal Escape Chamber is developed by Pine Studio, with the green light from Valve. Since this addition allows players to explore the hidden corners of the Aperture Science Computer Aided Enrichment Center. You can share this thrilling adventure with up to nine other friends. Due to take on a maze-like setting, facing nostalgic elements like the Companion Cubes and Personality Cores. All while trying to outsmart the Portal Escape Chamber challenges with friends.

Escape Simulator: Portal Escape Chamber - OUT NOW Trailer

Curious about what else Pine Studio has been up to in 2023? Escape Simulator has two free updates that released this summer. Offering players a thrilling treasure hunt on an island and an intense versus mode to compete with friends.

Features:

Puzzle Mastermind: Brace yourself for intricate puzzles set in varied settings. Such as the Labyrinth of Egypt, a space odyssey, and the Edgewood Mansion. There is als the enigmatic Omega Corporation, the retro futuristic Steampunk Airship, plus Leonardo's Workshop. Also the rugged Wild West, and of course, the Portal Escape Chamber.

Team Dynamics: This isn't just an individual's journey. Work with friends online to maximize your brainpower and creativity. All due to ensuring you beat every challenge that comes your way.

Community Power: What if you could design your own challenges? With the Room Editor, craft your unique escape scenarios or dive into thousands created by other talented folks.

Express Yourself: As you find your way through various Portal Escape Chamber scenarios, you can sport quirky hats. Due to customize your avatar, and even wear outfits that resonate with the theme of each puzzle.

Unleash Some Fun: Get playful! Break some vases, fiddle with locks, and yes, even indulge in a bit of friendly chaos. Just remember, Portal Escape Chamber is all in good fun!

Curious about what else Pine Studio has been up to in 2023? Two free updates released this summer. While offering players a thrilling treasure hunt on an island and an intense versus mode to compete with friends. Now, if you're thinking of launching into this Portal Escape Chamber DLC, here's some good news. Right now for a limited time, Escape Simulator is available with a 33% discount on Steam. Priced at $10.04 USD / £8.70 / 10,04€. Regular price on Humble Store. And if steampunk aesthetics or the wild west are more your speed. The other expansion packs game are available at a discounted rate. Playable on Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC.

[cataclysmet]

It’s been a long time since you’ve graced my dreams.

Your presence still had a familiar tang

I still remember the smell of your skin.

It was summer

Hot and dry

On an unknown street in a nameless town

Even in a dream state I had run deductions:

- Out west based on the dry air

- Just after noon by the position of the sun

- Mountains to the east

- Trees native to certain states

California perhaps?

All in a partial second

I haven’t been out west in a decade

But it was as familiar as my memory of you

It was a busy street for such a small town

And as dreams are like to do, it changed:

Now there were skyscrapers around us

But still a small town sidewalk.

You passed me and I recognized you in an instant

I turned but you kept walking

I said your name quietly

Then again louder

Like I was caught in a trance.

You didn’t stop

(When did you ever?)

But you looked up like you thought of something

It wasn’t the same kind of love that pulled hope into my chest

But love all the same

Changed love

Maybe I wanted you to see how different I was

Maybe I wanted to show you how I’ve healed without your help

Maybe I wanted to see how you were doing

If you’ve changed as well.

But you kept on walking

Ignoring me

(Like you always did)

And though it wasn’t the same love I had for you

The rejection still hurt

I watched your back as you moved out of my sight

And I cried for myself

Head down in embarrassment

Tears: not because I needed your attention

But for the person I should have been

She should have been many things

Successful, confident, unafraid

Whole.

I walked off into the misty void of the dream

Reminding myself that rejection is impossible if you are never open

That to be open is to be vulnerable

And to be vulnerable is to hurt.

So I closed the castle gates

Roused the bloodthirsty Minotaur in my labyrinth

I shut all the doors and locked all the windows

Drawing the curtains

Dampening my hearth to a small flickering light.

To be open is to be vulnerable

To be vulnerable is to hurt.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 89: Avoalet; Golden Hills, Part 12

[bramblesramblesintoshambles]

The Eclipse Dungeon (Part II)

This part of the dungeon covers the western most labyrinth on the map, its traps, tricks, lore, and puzzles. So if you have not read Part 1 go to my page and it'll be right there! With that being said, you might want some help finding the rules for 13th Age. Well, while it isn't expansive the 13th Age SRD page has enough to help you make some fun characters for this one shot dungeon.

-Image from Fextralife.

The King's Labyrinth

The party should emerge from the previous maze to find a gate leading South-West has opened. This leads into a labyrinth, its pathways extend onwards for some distance. Your adventurers should come to a fork in their road. As you can see on the map below, that right path leads towards a purple heart. If players head down this route first they'll see a suit of golden armour stood against a wall, similar to the warriors in the tapestries from the first puzzle. On a normal (11+) Wisdom check, adding whichever background skills might be applicable, they will notice its not held up in any perceivable way. Given the construction of armour, without a person inside they usually fall down. On a 16+ players will also note it's actually gilded bronze splint over brass mail. If characters wish to discern a tactical advantage it requires a normal (11+) Intelligence check, plus applicable backgrounds. On a success they realise the gilding of this armour grounds an enemy giving resistance to Lightning damage. However, the brass would intensify vibrations giving a wearer vulnerability to Thunder (Sonic) damage. Until triggered this armour will not move and cannot be damaged.

Players may become perplexed by this armour, so it could can be a good idea to remind them there was another path. Taking it leads to a choice, at the end of the left corridor is a closed door while the right eventually rounds a corner. Location 5, is a small room containing a pedestal. On this pedestal is another key item, an ordinary steel blade. Importantly it lacks a hilt and is just the blade of a weapon (unsharpened). In Location 6 is a similar pedestal which holds the top half of the staff from the tapestry in Location 4.5 (See Part 1 for details). Importantly, whenever one door (marked by a red line cutting it off from the corridor beyond) is opened, the other immediately locks. Additionally, this is when the suit of armour becomes animated. If the part is forced to travel North-West away from Location 5 (assuming it is the first one opened), check everyone's backgrounds. If a character has a background applicable to their environmental awareness such as Scout, Miner, Gossipy, or Anxious ask the to roll a hard (16+) Wisdom check. On a success, they hear small scrapes and clangs as the metal armour approaches them. Which leads us nicely onto the stats used for this monster!

-Art from Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon by Studio Trigger on Netflix.

Animated Armour!

To be clear on the stats I'm using, they're available at the SRD webpage I linked above! This is a small break from the monotamy of puzzle solving both for you and your players. If they're having fun, and don't seem eager for a challenge there are guidelines for strengthening and weakening enemies in a subtle manner for your players. Hopefully though, they've already examined it and found its weakness to Thunder damage. This is a Monster Level 1, although unlike other creatures it doesn't possess a fear threshold (so new time GMs can ignore that for now). It also, as stated has resistance 8 to Lightning Damage and standard Vulnerability to Thunder. This means if a player attacks with Lightning damage they need to roll an 8 or higher on the die to deal damage. However, when attacking with Thunder damage on an 18 or higher their attack is considered a Crit.

-Image from the 13th Age SRD webpage.

Descriptions of Resistance, Vulnerability as well as other Combat mechanics can be found on the link above. For now however, let's describe the final puzzle!

Puzzle 2

The central chamber of this section (which is why I call it a labyrinth rather than maze, their distinction is worth a google), contains the puzzle for these players to advance. On the largest wall is a mural painting which depicts four points in the Human King's life. Left to right, players see:

A younger version of the Human King being knighted by his father;

This Human Prince defending a wounded comrade in battle;

The King wears his father's crown and stands beneath the sun;

Finally, he gives that staff to the Elf Queen and receives her sword.

Each scene has an indentation. The first for a missing sword blade which he was knighted with. The second is occupied by the golden blade. The third for a staff held in front of his chest which is also missing. Then the final one is occupied by a wood and gold staff with no disk of onyx in the loop at its head. Their correct order is gold blade, steel blade, wood and gold staff with no onyx, then silver and gold staff with onyx. Characters should be able to observe the rounded tip of the golden blade doesn't fill its indentation in the second image. Additionally, they will notice the wood and gold staff has room for the onyx disk to go. Visa versa, the steel sword does not fit into the first scene and the staff with an onyx disk does not fit the third. Once these are swapped it will open up another gate, allowing this party to handle the third puzzle of this dungeon.

-Image of The Sword Puzzle from the Resident Evil 4 Remake by Capcom (Image taken from the site Hard Drive).

Also yes, this puzzle is a loving homage to this puzzle from the remake, which I thought was fun.

[myriamas]

who: @lightxshadow where: the red temple of sunspear, some days into lady zialla hightower's visit to dorne accompanied by the rest of the reach courtiers who ventured to dorne. myriam has been visiting various establishments within sunspear, first the great sept and now the red temple for their blessing for the princess leila. myriam invited zialla specifically.

there were a large amount of people accompanying the princess and the regent to the streets of sunspear's labyrinth city, courtiers of dorne and beyond alike; there was one location they specifically found themselves walking through. the crowds in the streets split at the sight of house martell's sigil on the flags, adorned with petals of marigold and the scent of saffron remained in the air. there was the sound of bells amidst the various pujas, ritual prayers, that were taking place along the side of the road in the presence of their new leader. how the crowds and the people would cheer each time her kohl lined orbs looked upon them, as though she were a goddess; perhaps she was, to them.

and myriam allyrion would easily work with the narrative that the mother herself lived within each and very woman, which made them all a goddess: the regal more than ever before. "it is one long paved path between the great sept and the red temple. from the west to the east of the city."

she did not think of herself in such a way, but her daughter? the blood of house martell ran through her - she was the daughter of prince mors of house martell. she was the sun of dorne. the procession found themselves at the steps of the red temple in dorne; walking from one side of the city where the great multicoloured sept to the grand red temple, the biggest in all of westeros on this side of the narrow sea. their faith was not the same faith as myriam herself, or even the young princess, but they were a faith she would be tasked with protecting and including for they were her own. for whilst there was braavosi and various other types of essosi within the red temple, there were also dornish who had converted to the red faith.

myriam slipped her shoes off as she entered the temple, immediately finding herself basking beneath the glow of the fire. the sound of chanting, and the warm welcome from the high priest who placed a ritualistic tikka on the foreheads of herself and her daughter both. there was a sense of peace in every religious establishment myriam allyrion found herself within, even the septs of the rest of westeros; even the heart trees of the north, despite the freezing cold. the grand ritual began, in which prince kian of house martell asked for the red temple to swear fealty to the new princess. she were in the arms of her uncle, and she stood to the side of the red temple with lady hightower.

it were obvious she missed it. she missed all of this. but myriam would not speak on what was not hers to address. "if this is not enough time, we can arrange to visit before you return." she spoke, her accent wrapping around the deep velvet of her tone. myriam's voice was like sandalwood, almost raspy - it were not light, or overly feminine. sensual in nature, to all but those who knew it simply was not. she raised her dupatta to cover her thick dark locks, which were tied up in a loose bun.

[lumeke]

maiden-song

Long ago and long ago, And long ago still, There dwelt three merry maidens Upon a distant hill. One was tall Megan, And one was dainty May, But one was fair Margaret, More fair than I can say, Long ago and long ago.

When Megan plucked the thorny rose, And when May pulled the brier, Half the birds would swoop to see, Half the beasts draw nigher; Half the fishes of the streams Would dart up to admire: But when Margaret plucked a flag-flower, Or poppy hot aflame, All the beasts and all the birds And all the fishes came To her hand more soft than snow.

Strawberry leaves and May-dew In brisk morning air, Strawberry leaves and May-dew Make maidens fair. 'I go for strawberry leaves,' Megan said one day: 'Fair Margaret can bide at home, But you come with me, May; Up the hill and down the hill, Along the winding way 30 You and I are used to go.'

So these two fair sisters Went with innocent will Up the hill and down again, And round the homestead hill: While the fairest sat at home, Margaret like a queen, Like a blush-rose, like the moon In her heavenly sheen, Fragrant-breathed as milky cow Or field of blossoming bean, Graceful as an ivy bough Born to cling and lean; Thus she sat to sing and sew.

When she raised her lustrous eyes A beast peeped at the door; When she downward cast her eyes A fish gasped on the floor; When she turned away her eyes A bird perched on the sill, Warbling out its heart of love, Warbling warbling still, With pathetic pleadings low.

Light-foot May with Megan Sought the choicest spot, Clothed with thyme-alternate grass: Then, while day waxed hot, Sat at ease to play and rest, A gracious rest and play; The loveliest maidens near or far, When Margaret was away, Who sat at home to sing and sew.

Sun-glow flushed their comely cheeks, Wind-play tossed their hair, Creeping things among the grass Stroked them here and there; Megan piped a merry note, A fitful wayward lay, While shrill as bird on topmost twig Piped merry May; Honey-smooth the double flow.

Sped a herdsman from the vale, Mounting like a flame, All on fire to hear and see, With floating locks he came. Looked neither north nor south, Neither east nor west, But sat him down at Megan's feet As love-bird on his nest, And wooed her with a silent awe, With trouble not expressed; She sang the tears into his eyes, The heart out of his breast: So he loved her, listening so.

She sang the heart out of his breast, The words out of his tongue; Hand and foot and pulse he paused Till her song was sung. Then he spoke up from his place Simple words and true: 'Scanty goods have I to give, Scanty skill to woo;

But I have a will to work, And a heart for you: Bid me stay or bid me go.'

Then Megan mused within herself: 'Better be first with him, Than dwell where fairer Margaret sits, Who shines my brightness dim, For ever second where she sits, However fair I be: I will be lady of his love, And he shall worship me; I will be lady of his herds And stoop to his degree, At home where kids and fatlings grow.'

Sped a shepherd from the height Headlong down to look, (White lambs followed, lured by love Of their shepherd's crook): He turned neither east nor west, Neither north nor south, But knelt right down to May, for love Of her sweet-singing mouth; Forgot his flocks, his panting flocks In parching hill-side drouth; Forgot himself for weal or woe.

Trilled her song and swelled her song With maiden coy caprice In a labyrinth of throbs, Pauses, cadences; Clear-noted as a dropping brook, Soft-noted like the bees, Wild-noted as the shivering wind Forlorn through forest trees: Love-noted like the wood-pigeon Who hides herself for love, Yet cannot keep her secret safe, But coos and coos thereof: Thus the notes rang loud or low.

He hung breathless on her breath; Speechless, who listened well; Could not speak or think or wish Till silence broke the spell. Then he spoke, and spread his hands, Pointing here and there: 'See my sheep and see the lambs, Twin lambs which they bare. All myself I offer you, All my flocks and care, Your sweet song hath moved me so.'

In her fluttered heart young May Mused a dubious while: 'If he loves me as he says'-- Her lips curved with a smile: 'Where Margaret shines like the sun I shine but like a moon; If sister Megan makes her choice I can make mine as soon; At cockcrow we were sister-maids, We may be brides at noon.' Said Megan, 'Yes;' May said not 'No.'

Fair Margaret stayed alone at home, Awhile she sang her song, Awhile sat silent, then she thought: 'My sisters loiter long.' That sultry noon had waned away, Shadows had waxen great: 'Surely,' she thought within herself, 'My sisters loiter late.' She rose, and peered out at the door, With patient heart to wait, And heard a distant nightingale Complaining of its mate; Then down the garden slope she walked, Down to the garden gate, Leaned on the rail and waited so.

The slope was lightened by her eyes Like summer lightning fair, Like rising of the haloed moon Lightened her glimmering hair, While her face lightened like the sun Whose dawn is rosy white. Thus crowned with maiden majesty She peered into the night, Looked up the hill and down the hill, To left hand and to right, Flashing like fire-flies to and fro.

Waiting thus in weariness She marked the nightingale Telling, if any one would heed, Its old complaining tale. Then lifted she her voice and sang, Answering the bird: Then lifted she her voice and sang, Such notes were never heard From any bird when Spring's in blow.

The king of all that country Coursing far, coursing near, Curbed his amber-bitted steed, Coursed amain to hear; All his princes in his train, Squire, and knight, and peer, With his crown upon his head, His sceptre in his hand, Down he fell at Margaret's knees Lord king of all that land, To her highness bending low.

Every beast and bird and fish Came mustering to the sound, Every man and every maid From miles of country round: Megan on her herdsman's arm, With her shepherd May, Flocks and herds trooped at their heels Along the hill-side way; No foot too feeble for the ascent, Not any head too grey; Some were swift and none were slow.

So Margaret sang her sisters home In their marriage mirth; Sang free birds out of the sky, Beasts along the earth, Sang up fishes of the deep-- All breathing things that move Sang from far and sang from near To her lovely love; Sang together friend and foe;

Sang a golden-bearded king Straightway to her feet, Sang him silent where he knelt In eager anguish sweet. But when the clear voice died away, When longest echoes died, He stood up like a royal man And claimed her for his bride. So three maids were wooed and won In a brief May-tide, Long ago and long ago.

[queenquinzel715]

Part 1

Part 2 Vampire Duke Demitri 18+

Y/n P.O.V.

         The past couple months have been the best, a new free world, and that's thanks to King Jule. During my days with Kiva she teaches me sewing, and Demitri would take me around the marketplace. The rest of my day I spend in my room reading, or with Demitri talking and eating what we found at the marketplace. 

          From how terrible my father was to so many people I still worry someone will try something. When I'm with Demitri I feel protected, but when I'm alone I'm always looking around. Demitri and I have become very close, but he's leaving for a meeting. I try to relax myself, which is hard, even with King Jule's resurgence. 

          When King Jule took over he gave all his high ranked knights titles, there are north, south, east, and west. Demitri has control of the East territory, Duke Octavus, a werewolf, took over the North territory, Duke Klaus, a demon, took over the southern territory, and then Duke Baret, an orc, took over the west territory. The main castle sits dead center of the land. that is why Demitri is leaving, all the Dukes are coming together for some meeting. 

         As it got closer for Demitri to leave he kept asking me if I wanted to come with him, but I didn't want to get in the way of this meeting. I didn't know if they would be bothered by me there, or Demitri would get distracted.

"Love?" I hear him call from the beginning of the shelves. 

"Back here." I answer as I put my book down. 

         I hear his footsteps as they walk toward me, and when he finally comes out of the labyrinth of shelves he smiles at me. 

"I'm sorry it took longer than normal. King Jule needed my help with the defense wall." He kisses my cheek. 

          He had business with King Jule, in the throne room, so that's why I came into the library, which is right next to it. I knew eventually he'd smell me out. 

"So you're blaming someone I can't yell at is very rude. I can't believe you'd do that." I sass, trying to hold back my smile.

"Of course I will when I told him you were in here, and…" I giggle at his serious ranting. "You vile little creature. I knew you'd bug me for all eternity" I couldn't control my laughter as he picked me up, and he sat with me on his lap. 

"I don't think you mind it so much considering you haaave to be next to me." I lean my back on his chest with a smug smile.

        My smile slowly leaves as I feel his breath on my ear, and his arms hold me tighter. 

"I couldn't survive a day without seeing you or touching you." He softly kisses under my ear. 

"Demitri." I give a shocked gasp. 

         He moves me, so I'm sideways on his lap as he leaves soft kisses to my collarbone. I have to use his shoulder to muffle my whimper from the others here in… the… LIBRARY. 

"Love, we are still in the library." I try to get his attention. 

"What?" He pulls back with confusion.

"Library." I point behind me. 

         He looks behind me before he lifts me to my feet, and before he takes my hand, he helps me with my dress. Giving me a kiss on my forehead he guides me through the halls, and it isn't until we get closer I realize he's taking me to my room. I sit on the bench at the end of the bed as he locks the door, and takes his coat off. He walks to me with his handsome smile. 

"I don't know how I'm going to last all week without you." His hands run to the back of my head. "I've gotten used to having you next to me." He softly kisses my lips.

         His hands run down my body as I grip the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. In a swift motion, my legs are around his waist, and he's crawling up the bed. 

"I'll be waiting right here when you come back." I whisper in his ear. 

       That somehow broke his control, so that caused him to tear my dress in half. As he kisses me along my stomach I can feel his fangs, and I catch myself from wanting him to bite me. When he finally gets to my chest I'm able to pull his shirt apart, and feel his cool body on my burning one. He takes hold of my face as he leans over me, and kisses me softly. I couldn't stop myself from grinding against him as we kiss, but he just grips my leg to his hip. 

"I swear I'm going to hurry back." He whispers in my ear as he takes his pants off, not leaving from his spot. 

           Before he could move I grabbed the back of his neck to pull him into a deep kiss, only to gasp as he entered me completely. His hands cage my head in place when he rams quickly, making me arch against him, and having my legs locked around him. I push the heels of my feet into his lower back causing him to go faster. Unable to control my screams I turn to his arm to bite his wrist, but he pulls it away to grip my chin. 

"No biting, Love." He smirks down at me as he continues to move inside me. 

         He knows what that smirk does to me, so when I feel my stomach tighten I dig my nails into his sides. As we release he groans into my ear, and I moans out. I try to catch my breath as he slowly pulls away, to lay down. 

"Here." He puts me on his chest. 

"Demitri?" I ask as he starts playing with my hair.

"Yes." 

"When your territory is finished…" I stop. I don't want him to run. 

"What is it?" He softly asks.

"I was wondering if it would be easier if I moved there, so you wouldn't have to travel so much." I roll my eyes in embarrassment. 

"My love…" He moves all my hair to the side as he gently lifts my face. "I was hoping you would come to my castle, so I had an area in my room, just for you, but if you'd like I'd have a room made for you instead."

       My body moved on its own, crawling up his body with a wide smile on my face as I kissed him deeply. We spent his last day in my room, but only left to go to the kitchen. He still wanted me to come, but I told him he had meetings to pay attention too. 

        I stood at the main door as he rode away, waving goodbye, and then spent the rest of my day in the bedroom. The next couple days were like usual, but the time I'd spend with Demitri I'd either go to the library or kitchen. I've learned I'm I'm very good cook, and can't wait for Demitri to come back to show him. I know he doesn't get much nutrition from the food, but he can still enjoy it. 

       Today I was learning a new recipe the chef gave me, and so far I was doing pretty good. The head cook joked saying I could take her job, but I'd never do that. I was walking toward the flour when I'm pulled back, and thrown into shelves in the cupboard. 

"You should've died like that bastard." Is all I hear before I feel a sharp burning pain in my neck, and then everything goes black. 

Demitri P.O.V

       I watched my love wave at me as I left, and the more I rode away the more I had to remember King Jule's words. 

"Everyone has made an agreement that (y/n) isn't our problem, and won't cause trouble. She is safe Demitri." He reassures me. 

        I can only hope he is right, and hopefully I can hurry this along. As I'm riding through the main gates of my palace I'm looking at things (y/n) would point out. I already know she's going to want a bigger garden, so I'll just let her do what she wants. 

  I walk inside to Gemma, the head maid, waiting at the door, so I stop next to the stairs. I informed her of (y/n)'s decision, and she seemed to be more excited than I was at (y/n)'s arrival. I walk to my office to get everything ready for the meeting tomorrow. 

          Waking up without (y/n)'s leg on mine, and her cold little nose pointing at my cheek was difficult. I need this meeting to be quickly, but walking into the great hall I know that wasn't going to happen. 

"It's my territory! I don't understand why you are constantly hunting on it." Klaus argues.

"I've told you before you took the territory that you took the best hunting spot, and left my whole pack to nothing but dark woods." Octavus growls. 

         They were so wrapped up in yelling at each that they didn't even know I was here, so I threw the closest book toward them. Sadly, it didn't hit them, it just went in between them. 

"Are you done?" I ask.

         They don't even answer, just sit down at the table, and I finally begin the meeting. Apparently the whole reason for this meeting was for the werewolves to trade territories with the demons. It's been an argument since the beginning with them over this territory, the demons want it for the bigger land, and the werewolves need it for hunting. They bicker back, and forth for a while before I bang my hand on the table. 

"Alright I've had enough of this. Klaus you know this is nonsense. The wolves need the hunting lands, so here's your choices. Either let them hunt on your land, or give them the whole thing." I told him. 

        He just growls at the table before standing from his seat, and sticking his hand out to Octavus.

"You can hunt on the land, but only hunt." He grumbles.

          They shook hands on the matter, we all signed the agreement, and they left for their rooms to get ready to leave tomorrow. I wish I could leave after they leave, but I have to wait until our room is done. As I'm heading toward my office I get a very unsteady feeling hit me, and I have to grab the table next to me to stop from hitting the floor. I get a burning sensation in my neck, which makes me hiss while grabbing my neck. 

"Princess?" I mumble to myself. 

         When I finally get a hold of myself I know something isn't right, so I run to tell the  stablehand to get the horses ready. As I rush back inside I tell Gemma to inform the other Dukes I have an emergency back at the castle, and that I apologize for leaving.

      I push my horse as fast as it could run, and only to slow down when I get to the town. Once my feet hit the grown one of the King's guards rush toward. 

"Sir, I've been informed to take you to the throne room as soon as you arrive. It's about the Princess." He informs me.

        Following him to the throne room I have to stop myself from running up the stairs to her. When I got inside the throne room I knew something was seriously wrong just by Jule's regretful face. 

"Demitri I don't… something happened." He weaves his fingers together. "(Y/n) was attacked..." He didn't get to finish.

        Once I heard the word attacked I'm running toward her room, and cursing myself for being so stupid. I almost break the door down as I run toward her bed, only to stop when I see her whitish pale face laying alone in her big bed. I realize Kiva is there as I walk closer, but she just looks to her feet. I look over my weak love, but I stop at her neck.

"What happened?" I growl. 

"The head cook saw the guy who did this leave the cupboard, and then saw her laying on the floor." She starts to tear up. "The cook tried to stop the bleeding while sending one of the maids for help." 

"The cook?" I'm so confused. "Why was she in the kitchen?"

"(Y/n) has been going there since she had free time, and has taken a liking to cooking." She smiles down at (y/n). 

         I told her to head home to get some rest when I noticed it was getting dark, because if (y/n) was to wake up she'd be too tired to even speak. I wanted to get my hands on the man that did this, but the only thing stopping was her slow heartbeat. I sit there listening to her couple step slower heart thinking about how I could've lost her. 

Part 3 soon

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 1)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~6800 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! This is a purely self-indulgent work I didn’t think I’d publish anywhere - but ultimately, if just one other person enjoyed this, it’d be worth it, right?. However, all of this is catering entirely to what I was feeling at the time of writing this (I’m the biggest sucker for hurt/comfort). It’s fairly possible the plot seems short on breath at times and even confusing because to me it just… made sense. I had a string of scenes I wanted to write and so I did, if that makes sense.

Now for a more technical thing - I took a fair amount of liberty with all the ‘lore’ that is offered in the original work. I’m a huge high/fantasy fan and I believe you’ll notice with how chakra is used here. Also my personal headcanons for Tobirama, uh-huh. There is gonna be SCIENCE… and science-y work… uh-huuuuh... _______________ He practically flew past the trees. His heart pounded in his ears, but it wasn't exhaustion. What fuelled his movements was sheer desperation. And ire. Ice-cold fury burning against those that had taken from him what was amongst the most precious beings in his life. How could he have allowed for this to happen? If only he had paid closer attention. If only he had been there with you, he'd have prevented this, he'd have protected you - such thoughts were futile now. He wouldn't dwell on them anyhow, he was too consumed with ending the increasingly despairing search for you. They would come back at him later no doubt, but Tobirama would devote every single fiber of his very being to bringing you back to safety. Though he tried not to think of it - he knew, they hardly kept you in a cell only. It only made his blood boil more. The news of your MIA-status had hit him nearly like the death of his brothers had, many years ago. Beneath his feet, the floor had been ripped away for a moment, a punch to the gut that left him breathless. His love, in the hands of an enemy village that was not known for treating prisoners kindly. Your high status in Konoha no doubt aggravated the situation. A woke mind like Tobirama's would paint a gruesome picture of the fate that might befall you, and his stomach roiled. The cruel logic behind the action, the tactical approach - something he himself might have thought of. That made it worse. "We will find her," Hashirama had assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His gaze had fixated on his brother. He clenched his teeth. "Of course we will - I will not rest until she's back here, anija," he had replied, no, growled. A fierce promise which he intended to keep, no matter what. Hashirama was unfazed by the sincerity of the statement. "Neither will I," he promised. Then his brows had knitted in a way Tobirama did not like at all. His brother was about to say something of which he thought Tobirama might not appreciate it. "She is strong, Tobira-", "I know she is," he snapped back at him, "But she will not suffer for a second longer than she has to." Hashirama closed his eyes. "No, she will not." That had been weeks ago, now. Weeks in which Tobirama's desperation had grown by each passing day. Silently he had wondered if he had ever been in more distress to accomplish a mission before. He'd have to go with no. And progress was agonizingly slow. The enemy knew well to hide their traces, and even for his superior sensor skills, the trail was faint. Barely a whisper in the lush forests of the north-west parts Fire country. The sheer difficulty of the task made him almost balk. Almost. The truth was it worried him. He never found himself deteriorating himself in any way before, even when his own life had hung in the balance. The higher the stakes, the more collected he was. But now? Now he felt he was racing against a clock. And time was running out. For even your beautifully strong mind might break eventually. And he knew what happens to enemies that have no use anymore. The thought choked him at night. To never hold your warm body against his anymore - No. He would succeed. They had picked up on their trail, finally. He clenched his teeth. They would not get away. Tobirama just needed a single thread to unravel this knot and then follow it through the labyrinth, back to you. He rose a hand to bring the squad to a halt - composed of his brother and a couple of experienced jonin of the village, all long-standing comrades. Some even from the warring states period. He closed his eyes to touch the ground and send a pulse of chakra through the area, letting his sensor abilities give him an overview of the signatures in the area. Besides the overwhelming presence of his brother right next to him as well as the far more mute team members around, all he found was animals. Except - "To the east." His voice was devoid of anything except steely urgency.He didn't even look back to check if everyone kept in formation as they followed him. Finely tuned sensory skills had locked in on his target; an unknown chakra signature. Humanoid. In an area where no travellers should pass for there were no connecting roads, no villages to visit. It was what had led them here initially: traces of chakra where there should be none. You were here. Tobirama just knew. If only he had branded you with the hiraishin seal. A regret that festered in his heart in a most painful way. How careless. How stupid. He shoved it aside for later. It was useless now. They enclosed around the signature that soon proved to be not just humanoid, but human indeed. Naturally, they wouldn't give up on the element of surprise. And there still was a slight chance this might just be a civilian. A child, even. Tobirama didn't believe that. Maybe he didn't want to. But as soon as they had a line of sight on the target, walking on a narrow path in the woods - he just knew. This was a Hidden Stone Village Spy. No doubt scouting for any intruders near their hideout. Where they kept you. Tobirama bristled with white-hot rage as soon as the target was in viewing range. Almost, he directly lunged for the man dressed in inconspicuous, earthen-colored clothes. Almost. The team had spread around, hidden in the trees. Hashirama beat him to hailing the stranger. "Greetings," he announced amicably, arms spread, trademark smile. How he was still like this was beyond Tobirama. As gingerly as the First approached, as stormy his brother followed - scowling in such a condemning way the man flinched away. "G-greetings," he stuttered, eyes trained on Tobirama who was well aware of what he looked like now. Good. Let that man be scared. He well should be. His armor clanked as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes narrowed to slits, assessing. "May I ask, what brings a man such as yourself to this remote area of the Fire country?", Hashirama inquired, ever friendly, slowly enclosing. "H-herbs," the man was quick to answer, still not looking away from Tobirama. Damn, that answer was sensible - almost. "Is that so? Then where are your gathering utensils? Bag? Or did you intend to rip it all out with your bare hands and stuff your pants full of it all?", Tobirama spat back, the undertone of his voice a perfectly fine, icy growl. Hashirama turned around to give his brother an incredulous gaze. Tobirama snorted. As if that was the worst he had ever said. The logic of his argument was sound nonetheless."I-I-I h-h-have t-t-them o-o-o-ver t-t-there," the man stammered, backing off slowly, lip quivering. He pointed to the trees - where some of the team hid. Perfect, Tobirama figured. Hashirama threw both hands up immediately in an apologetic manner. "Oh, don't worry, please! You must excuse my brother," he approached the man slowly, much like a one would a startled animal. The stranger wasn't swayed. He kept backing off. Then, he started to make a run. That was all the confirmation he needed. Immediately, Tobirama snatched a branded kunai from his satchel and threw it after the man with full force, uncaring if it might hit him - and a second later, the world lurched and he landed right beside him, where the weapon had buried itself in the ground. Swiftly, he tackled the man into the side, sending him off balance and into the ground. Another few finger signals later, a shadow clone of his had picked his target up, restraining his arms behind his back with one hand and securing the head with the other. "Tobirama!", Hashirama called out, no longer bothering to hide his fury. Already, he began to run over. Tobirama ignored him. "Search the area he pointed at for gathering utensils!", he shouted, seemingly at nowhere. Then his scarlet gaze was back on the man in front of him, arms crossing in front of his chest again. "Pray they find them," he spat. With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, Hashirama came to a halt next to him. "There was no need to-" "Shut up!", Tobirama didn't even spare him a glance. His brother sighed again, now in full kicked-puppy mode. Tobirama's anger flared again. He had no time for these antics. They needed to interrogate this man, now, and then continue with the information. "Lord Hokage!", a call echoed through the forest. Tobirama's head snapped around. One of the jonin returned. Kaori held up a satchel - but her mien was grave. A chill ran down Tobirama's spine. Had he made a mistake? His gaze swayed to the man who started to squirm against his clone's vice hold, earning him only a more bruising treatment. "What's in there?", he demanded immediately, ignoring the fact she had addressed Hashirama, actually. She turned the bag upside down, pouring the contents on the ground. Kunai, flares, paper bombs. Tobirama's heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He took a decisive step towards the man who suddenly had become very still. Hashirama backed off. Wisely. "Start talking. Now." A dangerous undercurrent leaked into his icy tone. The man stared back, defiantly. "Fine." Tobirama's patience had worn out. He was by no means a master of interrogation techniques - but he knew ways to amplify the intensity of a mental assault. He'd have no qualms using every bit of his ability on this person. Already, his clone was moving the man towards one of the trees. Brutally, he wrestled both arms above his head while pinning him against the trunk. Tobirama meanwhile had picked up the branded kunai he had thrown after the stranger earlier. When his clone had both palms aligned over one another he rammed the blade through the flesh. A scream accompanied the sickening crunch as steel forced itself past the metacarpal bones. Blood trickled down the arms of the man whose eyes were wide now. Behind Tobirama, his brother and the squad had gathered at a respectable distance. They didn't say a word. Either they didn't dare, or they had accepted one of them had to take up the tainting burden of the acts that were to follow. Tobirama didn't care at all for that. His mien was ice-cold, his glare as threatening as his intent towards the poor victim. He let his clone disappear. His hand slapped down on the man's scalp, closing his eyes. His chakra wound through the man's network like a snake in prey's den. Viciously, the man fought back, but the pain he had inflicted disrupted his focus. Good. Tobirama focused his own chakra to assault the vault with the information he desperately needed - the mind. Distantly, he heard a loud, anguished scream. A shudder went through the whole of the network, another attempt to buck the intruder off and out of his mind. Tobirama clenched his teeth. Already, he knew the man's chakra reserve was far inferior to his own - he might as well be able to simply overpower him much in a way that might best be described as metaphorical curb stomping. But that bore the risk of impairing the information stored in his mind. Very well, then. He reached into his satchel, procuring a second kunai. The man barely had time to register what Tobirama was doing before the weapon buried itself in his right forearm, hailed by another anguished scream that rang through an eerily calm forest. Tobirama stared him dead in the eye with a glance devoid of any emotion as he gave the weapon, nicely lodged between radius and ulna, a twist. A snap was heard. The scream intensified - then it broke off. The man huffed. "I won't tell you anything!", he shouted, panting, face red by the blood that was dripping down. "How very wrong you are." Tobirama sounded perfectly dejected, raising his hand again to once more assault the man's mind. Who laughed in reply."You think that will make me break?", he spat, "You'll never get that bitch back!" He threw his head back, laughing. Tobirama closed his eyes. His head was swimming with white-hot rage. In a moment of weakness, his mind painted deliciously cruel ways in which he might harm this man, kill him even - ways so despicable that for a moment, he was disgusted by himself, even. Distantly, surprised he’d stoop so low. They were just thoughts, anyway. Yet his body became numb besides ire and every fiber of his being felt like bellowing his rage at this man while he mangled his body beyond recognition for the sheer mention of you. "What you're doing to me is a joke compared to what we do to her, day in, day out," he continued then, finishing with the audacity to spit at Tobirama's white fur collar. "Oh, shit," he heard Kaori mumble behind him. Not a second later, Tobirama raised his leg and kicked with full force against the left thigh of the man, aiming for the femur. The snap was audible, the pain amplified by the way he sacked against the impaling hold of the kunai above his head. The scream was harrowing. But Tobirama wasn't finished. He raised his leg again. The right femur snapped just like the left one had, the howls of the man becoming incoherent screams of anguish, paused only by gasping for breath. Cruelly, the kunai had begun to further cut open his palms and his forearm as his legs wouldn't hold his body's weight anymore due to sheer pain. "Tobirama," a voice called out to him. Hashirama. His tone carried a warning. He didn't have the information yet. He needed the information first. He needed to know where you were. Now. With his heart hammering in his chest, he raised his arm again and grabbed the man's scalp again. This time, his assault was different than the first time. Not a pointed stab of chakra after winding his way through his network - this time, Tobirama let his presence suffocate the man from the inside. His network was a mess anyway - the pain was heavily impairing his control of his chakra now and Tobirama's own gargantuan chakra moved over his like a cruel invader, sparing no mercy for how mentally painful this was to him, how he must feel like being suffocated from the inside out by someone else. Distantly, the screams had picked up again. Tobirama let his chakra encircle around the man's mind; the brain - then he pulled closer. And closer. The man must have felt like someone was sawing his skull open. A few more seconds - then it was over. The fight inside stilled completely, and his victim had given in and him free reign to access every memory of the man. A millisecond later, Tobirama halted his assault and began to assess the information. Instantly, Tobirama knew this man's name was Akio, he was the youngest member of the newly formed Hidden Stone village's espionage team. He tossed that aside quickly to rip open the figurative drawer that held all the information about this mission. He knew, then. He knew it all. Where you were kept - what they had done to you. Well, all that Akio knew of. He wasn't one of the interrogators. Through his memories, he saw your face. Anguished, gaunt. But defiant. Alive. There was time, yet. Even though these memories made Tobirama tremble. It hit him with a force that nearly knocked the air out of his lungs simply for how heart-wrenching it was. He opened his eyes again to find the man limp against the bloodied tree. He gazed at his own palm, balling it to a fist. It shook. His heartbeat was all he heard. All of himself was entirely stiff and still from the sheer, utter rage that had completely become him. Again and again, the Akio's memories thrummed through Tobirama's skull, and with them, your screams of pain, your anguish, your whimpers of pain. Slowly, the scarlet eyes settled on the sorry excuse of an enemy in front of him. He didn't feel a shred of pity- "Tobirama!", a stern voice ripped him out of the tunnel of his emotions. His head turned to find Hashirama next to him now. "Enough, brother," he said - no, commanded. His hand had gripped Tobirama's wrist. Slowly, the fires of ire within were simmering down if just by the calming presence of his brother. Objectivity returned to Tobirama's mind, piece by piece. But no shred of regret. Or disgust. Objective accomplished. That he knew. "You have the information, no?", Hashirama pushed again, not letting up on the unmistakable sternness of his own tone. "I do." Tobirama's own voice was calm, collected. In a grotesque contrast to the atrocity he had just committed. In fact, clarity was settling in - his focus restored, though haunted. Perfectly in control, but still driven by desperate urgency. If anything, said urgency had kicked up a notch now.He had his target now. "Kaori, Daichi," Hashirama called, nodding for Akio. "Stabilise him and take him as prisoner back to Konoha." They confirmed their order and began their work. Tobirama turned around, not sparing the man another look. Luckily he also knew the enemy's numbers and their capabilities, roughly, from Akio's memories. They'd be no match for him and his brother, let alone with their jonin as backup. Soon, you'd be safe again. __________ The hideout was - befitting for shinobi of the Hidden Stone village - underground. Concealed so well that without the information coerced out of Akio, it would have been impossible to find. Tobirama had to give them that. But now they did not just know where it was located, but also how to get in without setting one of the deadly traps they had laced each of the two entries with. Smart. Akio had also been so generous to provide them with a mental map of the place, of course - functional it was, a narrow corridor, just a couple of rooms. Sleeping and living quarters, a weapons and supply chamber which also seemed to serve as a tactical planning room - and finally, the place Tobirama felt physically drawn to. The interrogation chamber. Adjoined, a holding cell fitted to be bereft of any chakra. Just another form of sensory deprivation. He could barely restrain himself from rushing in there full force and eliminate any obstacle in his way. He knew in this very moment, this very second, you were down there, suffering - and the thought wound around his chest and squeezed until his breaths came uneven and his heart stuttered. Until he believed to be in physical pain. But Tobirama also knew how precarious the situation was. The team had gathered at a respectful distance to discuss their plan. Time was running short. They soon would search for Akio, and if they so much as caught a whiff of their presence, you'd slip from his grasp again as they’d flee. Or worse, they might kill you. Tobirama would sooner die himself than allow for that to happen - the mere notion let the blood freeze in his veins. At the very least, it did well to reign himself in. Still, his mind, one thing about the course of action was clear. No mercy. At the very least, they were enemies to the village. "We can easily overpower them. Use the element of surprise, and be fast in and out. I know their numbers and capabilities, roughly." Tobirama crossed his arms in front of his chest. His face was drawn in a deep frown. "That is correct," Hashirama answered evenly, holding his brother's icy glare. Probably the only person around here to do so with ease, Tobirama found. His patience for more faint-hearted had been long gone. "But you mustn't forget that Y/n is down here too-" "I assure you, anija, I am not," Tobirama spat back, knuckles white from how hard he gripped the fabric of his undergarment on his arms. His nostrils flared from the sharp breath he took, offended his brother might even think he’d forget this. "They could use her as a living shield." Hashirama was completely unfazed by Tobirama's hostility. He probably had gotten used to it at this point, in a pitiful way - his brother's predicament pained him as much as your fate did, Tobirama knew. After all, Hashirama was the gentle soul out of the two of them. That wouldn't extend Tobirama's patience, but still. "And you seriously think I don't consider that?", Tobirama huffed, through clenched teeth. Desperation was leaking into his voice more than anger did. The team held a respectful distance at this point. "There is no other way, Hashirama." "There is," he replied far too quickly for Tobirama's liking. "Enlighten me then, please." He took a deep breath, seemingly well aware his next words will not sit well with his younger brother. "We offer them to leave for their home if they release Y/n without a fight." Tobirama's eyes widened. "You must be joking." The mere notion - "After what they did-" he scowled - his voice low, dangerous. The all too familiar rage was roaring within him again, his heart pounding high in his chest. "You haven't seen what I've seen!" his voice bordered a shout, as much as secrecy would allow for right now. Without ever having wanted to, he had taken a step towards his brother, arms outstretched. They were trembling again. He balled his fist. What on earth was Hashirama thinking? "It would be safest for her," he replied evenly, not backing off a single inch. His calmness was unnerving Tobirama even more. He actually seemed to consider this a good plan - "Safest? Safest? What if they slit her throat before my very eyes to let her see me fail her ultimately? Did you consider that in your clever approach?!" Tobirama's voice had risen in volume, but even now, he was aware they were to be hidden still. But the mental image was burned into his mind, now. Your eyes - panicked first, then growing dull as the realisation of being forsaken kicked in. And then, lifelessly gazing at him. That was almost too much for Tobirama to take and the white-hot rage burned so intensely, it felt as unbearable as the thought of losing you while being so close to getting you back. The thought of all the agony you had gone through. Hashirama took a decisive step forward then, placing a hand on Tobirama's shoulderguard. "We won't lose her, Tobirama," he spoke with such conviction, Tobirama was glad to latch onto it if just to escape the dark place his mind was at now. He needed to focus. For you. He shook his head as though to free himself of emotional turmoil, momentarily. "They're still enemies to the village, trespassing in our protected country and guilty of torturing our own. We cannot let them go unpunished." His baritone voice nearly shook towards the end. Hashirama pondered before he sighed deeply. "Very well." Tobirama took a deep breath, then crossed his arms again. "We will use what means of surveillance we have at hand to locate each of them before entering. Preferably when," he cleared his throat uncomfortably and forced himself to speak the next select words neutrally and calmly, "Y/n isn't being tortured. They won't be as close to her. Then we incapacitate them swiftly before they can get to her. The hideout is small. It should be easy to corner them before they can get to her." He needed to take a few more deep breaths, closing his eyes. A hand rubbed over his forehead and happuri absent-mindedly. This plan had to work. It just had. Tobirama wouldn't compromise more, anyway. Hashirama nodded then, turning towards the squad. "Everyone heard him. Let's go." Surveillance proved to be more difficult than they had expected. With Akio's information, they knew how to approach, but the hideout was secured from sensory scanning, of course. Which meant Tobirama was as good as blind, unless he got inside. That was out of question. It turned out their only means of getting inside views were the bugs of Hoshiko Aburame, who was more than eager to show off her newly joined clan's capabilities. And amazing they were, Tobirama found. Not half an hour later, they knew the enemy currently kept to the living quarters of the underground hideout, and the interrogation chamber was empty. You were in the cell, just as expected. The news made Tobirama's heart stutter again, but he reigned himself in quickly now. His focus was required now, even though he itched to rush in there like he never had before. You were right there, alive, breathing. Alone, suffering. He wanted nothing more than to save you from all that, posthaste. Frankly the timing was just too perfect. They had to act now. And they did. Swiftly, and without mercy. They split in two groups to enter the hideout from each entrance, dancing around the traps like only a member of the Hidden Stone shinobi team could. When Tobirama heard their voices, their laughter from the chamber - he saw red. But much more than to punish them, he wanted to take the other turn - through the interrogation chamber, to your cell. Hashirama had explicitly forbidden him to. Tobirama knew, too - the enemy needed to be subdued first. You were not being tortured right now. He needed to be calm and logical now; his help was needed in the fight - you just needed to hang on a little longer. Just a tiny bit. He was almost there, with you again. The battle inside the chamber was atrocious as one might expect from such close quarters and a force such as their own. Tobirama's water release mowed through their earthen defenses as they tried to use the surroundings to their advantage with their expert knowledge of Earth jutsu - though quickly, he had to give way to his brother's wood release lest he'd flood the chamber completely. The squad each had engaged with an enemy personally, the clashes of blades echoed through the room, incantations were shouted, chakra released left and right. No matter, he figured, he was still lethal enough without his water release. With his ice-cold burning ire, he lunged for a very particular enemy: the shinobi he knew had been responsible for your torture, mostly. He just needed to recall Akio's memories of you: what they had done to you, what you looked like. Tobirama's precision was meticulous and deadly, in every way. Later, those who bore witness to the fight uttered words of fright for how the First's brother had been back then - a stern reminder never to cross this man. Tobirama's precision to kill was ruthless, chilling. Parrying maneuvers of his target where punished not just with a clash of metal but the slicing of muscles and nerves. Undeniably he did not just fight the torture master - his target was punished for every mistake in this fight. As soon as the opening for a kill offered itself, Tobirama struck without mercy. The blind rage started boiling inside him more, numbing his body to a point he was sure he wouldn't feel anything despite ire anymore. And the deep desire to get back to you. This battle was taking too long. All throughout it, Tobirama kept his sensory skills trained on the whole underground complex - and especially so on the door that led outside, to you. He would not allow for a single person to leave this room and make a run for you, or outside for that manner. Not that anyone got the chance. Soon, the Stone shinobi were decimated to a number far smaller than the Konoha team, and they realised they were being overpowered - swiftly. But there was no escaping any more. Briefly, Hashirama had entertained taking them prisoner prior to starting their assault - much to Tobirama’s annoyance. Lethal force would be simpler and faster, he argued. Another team member, Taro, had made a more sensible objection then - he doubted they'd surrender and it was questionable if they would manage to subdue them if they didn't. Well, trust Hashirama to make it possible anyway. With his wood release, he managed to ensnare them, an unmistakable sign to the rest of the squad. Fine, then. They might hold valuable information, anyway. Tobirama turned around on his heel to do what he had been wanting to do from the start. He broke down the door towards the interrogation chamber with no grace, clenching his teeth when he laid eyes on the inside. There was a table fitted with restrains - and blood. Dried blood. Your blood. His throat went dry. A flickering gaze wandered over the walls where various tools were stored, all of them kept in neat shape. Drills, saws, irons - he closed his eyes. He couldn't - he didn't want to see that anymore, now. His heart hurt, his body trembled again with sheer rage. How could he allow for this to happen in the first place? He opened his eyes again, bearing the ache the sight brought him. Briefly, his scarlet eyes wandered left and right to find more utensils: drugs. More refined tools, possibly to inflict damage to the chakra network of the victim. Various vials filled with substances, very possibly used to alter perception of reality and make a person more susceptible to torture. Bile rose in his throat. Enough of that. With a few decisive steps, he rounded the table to finally find himself in front of your door. He stared down at his shaking hand before he opened it. He was sure his heart would jump out of his chest at any moment now. The door swung open inaudibly. The room beyond was just illuminated by the dim lights coming from behind Tobirama. When his gaze found you again for the first time in weeks, he nearly fell to his knees. You were curled up in the far corner of the tiny cell, dressed in rags. Your form looked far too delicate - far too gaunt. You were shivering, your hands covered your face and your head. There were bruises on your pale skin. Tobirama swallowed a heavy lump down his throat. A prickling sensation formed in his eyes. He blinked. Wetness rolled down his cheeks. He wiped swiftly at it with his sleeve. "Y/n," he spoke, incredibly softly, entering slowly, as though you might disappear if he were too hasty. He, who was covered in blood - his fine fur collar ruffled, sprayed red. The epitome of violence. You stirred. Flailed. Slow at first, as though you had to work through a haze. To hear a voice beside that of your tormentor - it must frighten you, or so Tobirama thought. Your gaze - your gaze was the worst. It was wide-eyed, devoid of your lively spark. Haunted. Tormented. The ache inside his heart was a physically painful sensation now within his chest. Tears rolled down his cheeks again, but he did not sob. All that ran through him was the fine tremor of despair; of having finally gotten you back and yet being confronted with the reality of your capture. Tobirama knelt down near your side very slowly, just in arms reach but at a respectful distance yet. Frankly he wanted to sweep you up in his arms, kiss you and never let go of you again - but he knew better than that. Recognition had not yet settled into your gaze again. There was fear in them. It continued to feed into the ache inside his chest. It was them - they had done this to you. "Y/n," he whispered your name again, tenderly, in a desperate hope of waking your memory. Your gaze was wild as you straightened yourself against the corner, boney knees tucked towards your body as quivering hands steadied yourself. "N-No...", your raspy, quiet voice stuttered. The abuse it had suffered was evident - for quite some time, you had done nothing with it but scream, Tobirama concluded. His teeth clenched down so hard, his jaw hurt. More tears smeared his facial paint. "I'm here, my love," he finally stammered out. Your eyes glistened. More violent shivers ran through your body. Tobirama subconsciously shifted closer. He needed to comfort you, to hold you - to do anything to ease your discomfort. To help you out of wherever your mind was right now. "I- I've broken, have I?", you suddenly croaked, "They gotten into me, now they're using you to torture me-" - you threw your head back against the stone wall with an audible thud. The sound made Tobirama shudder - that must have hurt you. But it was nothing compared to your words - he understood now. You thought he was part of a genjutsu. The cruel, cruel logic behind that - his eyes wandered downwards momentarily, and he couldn't stop the broken huff that snuffed out any sob he might have made. In his crouched stance, he wiped his palm over his face. You, his beautiful woman, the love of his life - in shambles, all due to his incompetence to keep you safe. He drew a ragged breath. All he now could do was to make up for it by getting you away from here - making you realise he really was here - and keep you safe now. Ensure you'd heal. "No, my love," he answered finally, letting his own agony break into his voice that had become a husky whisper while two scarlet eyes gave you a sad, sad look. "This is real. I'm here, you're safe now. It's over. You're safe now." Signing the genjutsu release in here was pointless - the room was designed to be void of chakra. In fact, Tobirama had not even noticed when he entered - he had been too concerned with you. That realisation now was disturbing - how careless of him - but he very much felt deaf in here for his sensory skills were blocked. No chakra would leave his body, at all. It was an oppressive feeling. To think you had been in here for weeks - You kept staring at him with wide eyes. Uncertainty had settled into your gaze. Tobirama knew he needed to keep leading you out of the darkness now. He inched closer, very slowly. His glance he kept locked with yours, attentive of any sign of fear or hesitation. The last thing he wanted to do was overstep your boundaries now. You remained still. Finally, he was right beside you, kneeling. He was shaking again. As were you. "T-Tobirama...", your abused voice whimpered, the question in your tone tormented him. The magnitude of anguish the whole situation brought him pushed him to a point where wondered how he could handle it - bear it - other than soldier through and simply ignore it for now. What he knew was he had to get you out now and start to move things along. "I'm here," he repeated, "I'm real. You're safe, now. All right?", he raised his shaking hand slowly to lay it on your far too bony shoulder. Your body was agonizingly cold under his palm. "Y/n," he downright whimpered, relieved for a brief second when you did not flinch. Your gaze drifted down onto the hand he had put on your shoulder. Incredulous. The first gentle touch you had received - in weeks. "Tobirama...", you whispered again, now laced with more than uncertainty. There was pain in it. Not the physical kind - the emotional kind. The despair of your struggle to believe all this, to allow yourself to know this to be true was showing. And Tobirama grew increasingly desperate alongside to make you believe this - to end your suffering as fast as he could. His own pain would endure far longer, he knew. That didn't matter, though - his aching heart could wait, if it only meant you were safe. "I will get you out, okay? May I carry you, Y/n?", he asked in a hushed voice, as gentle as he could. When you didn't reply but also showed no sign of refusal, he let his hand slide over your neck slowly to grasp around your shoulder while his other arm reached out to tuck under your knees. He never broke eye contact again. Yours, however wandered to your own body. It shook again - a mixture of temperature and quite possibly the same reason Tobirama himself shook, he deduced. His protectiveness flared even more. It was only when you felt gravity shift towards him and up from the ground that you whimpered - and flailed slightly. "N-no-", you suddenly whispered, shaking your head and the unkempt hair on it. But Tobirama didn't want to ease up now. He just needed you out of this terrible room to make you see he was real and end this nightmare. "Please, Y/n," Tobirama countered immediately, "Trust me." He practically implored you at this point. Your flailing increased. "D-don't," you whispered, your eyes wide again, lip quivering. "I can't," you wheezed, "No more, please!" Your thin arms pawed at his chest armor as he rose to his full height slowly. Your body was far too light in his arms. Your gaze shifted to the open door slowly, the fear becoming painfully apparent, but Tobirama's eyes would never leave you. Realisation dawned on Tobirama then. And once more, he felt as though he nearly doubled over by the implication of it - what your real issue now was. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n, nobody is anymore," Tobirama choked instantly. "We just need to get out here, I can't use my chakra here, neither can you." he tried to reason, unsure of how much that would get through to you. He took a slow step towards the door, though the pain inside his chest made it difficult when he saw your reaction. "Please," you croaked, the fight becoming stronger. He had to close his arms around you more firmly just so you wouldn't wind out of his hold. "Nothing bad is going to happen anymore, Y/n, I promise," Tobirama whispered over your sobs. Then, he opted to take the two steps out of the cell into the damned interrogation chamber - back to where chakra could be used. You were near screaming frightened pleas for mercy then, a sound that would haunt Tobirama. But it was over the second he carried you into the other room. In that very moment, Tobirama let his chakra graze over your network already. But not before he muttered: "Release." His voice bore some relief - the crooked, defeated kind. You stilled completely then. Your eyes were back at his face, he held your gaze evenly while his chakra wrapped around yours, much like a blanket on a cold winter's night. The familiarity of the sensation - to hold you and to feel you in such an intimate way at the same time - Tobirama nearly had thought he might have never have gotten another chance to. For all his determination of the past weeks - the danger had been near suffocating him. But you were here now, in his arms. "You're safe, Y/n," he repeated, over and over. "I'm here." His eyes were glistening again, as were yours. Stray tears fell on the rags they had dressed you in. Tobirama pulled you closer to let your forehead rest against his happuri for a moment. He closed his eyes to drink in the sensation of your chakra intertwining more, feeling you. Stilling the ache in his heart, quenching the rage that had roared in him for weeks. The both of you feeling one another. "Tobirama... I thought -", you finally began, your voice finally more than a hush or a whimper. Still raspy of course. But... more yourself. You had begun to come out of the proverbial darkness back to him, again. The relief Tobirama felt made his knees weak. "I thought I'd never see you again," you finally whispered. Slowly, he pulled his head back. He swallowed. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. It was all he could say right now. But there was so much more he wanted to say. Your head slipped from his forehead to the side of his neck. Exhaustion seemed to be getting to you, too. "I'll keep you safe, Y/n," he let his arms wrap around even tighter, for a moment worrying if he might bruise you. You didn't protest though. Tobirama felt you couldn't be close enough to him now. Your frail hand reached up for his fur collar, fingers winding through it, gripping it, then sliding to the side of his neck. You didn't speak anymore. He shuddered for how cold it felt again, but it only served to make him feel more determined to take care of you now. It was Hashirama who disturbed the moment. The relief was written over his face, though his eyes were wide when they first settled on you, then on Tobirama. "Let's go home," Tobirama then announced, sighing.

[havenoffandoms]

Hello and congrats on 800 followers!!! Could I ask for an Eskel x female cat Witcher!reader with prompts 3 or 5? Thanks 😊

Hi anon! Thanks so much and thanks for this really fun combination of prompt. Here’s my little silly take on cat!witcher!reader x Eskel. Hope you like it. 

Send your prompt requests here.

Cat!Witcher!reader x Eskel: “it’s really not that complicated” (prompt 3) and “we could get arrested for this” (prompt 5)

“Would you hurry up, wolf?” you urge your travel companion as he struggles to pick a simple lock, “it’s really not that complicated, for the love of the gods.”

“You try and pick a lock in a tight space with little to no natural light,” you hear the witcher known as Eskel snide back. A guttural groan pushes past his lips as he tugs on the lock in his frustration. “Fucking thing!”

“Oh, get out of my damn way,” you snap at him as you squeeze yourself into said tight space, elbowing Eskel in the ribs as you wriggle up to where the lock is resisting the wolf witcher, “here, watch an expert at work.”

“Why am I not surprised that you Cat witchers know how to pick locks?” Eskel punctuates his words with a pointed eyeroll. 

“At least Guxart taught us some street smarts. What do you bring to the table, your theoretical knowledge of monsters? Your working knowledge of poetry? How’s that gonna help, you gonna bore the guards to death by reciting a couple of verses?” 

“Fuck you.”

“Make me,” you hiss in response, but your mood quickly brightens when you hear the familiar ‘click’ sound as the lock yields under your nimble fingers. You pull on it harshly and manage to open the trap door, your only escape out of these dungeons. “Hah! Where does that take us?”

“Sewers, judging by the stench,” Eskel remarks, his nose scrunching up in distaste. You can’t help but agree with your companion on this one. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”

“Let’s go, then.”

With the agility worthy of your namesake, you jump down yet another hole tight and land on your feet and hands. You keep this position long enough to assess your surroundings, your yellow-green eyes picking up every movement without needing to use a Cat potion. Unlike Eskel, who is probably downing one as you wait for him to follow you into the sewers. Once you are satisfied that there is no immediate danger, you rise to your full height and silently slip along the humid walls. You hear rats squeaking in the distance and scattering as the sound of Eskel landing next to you spook them. 

“Any idea which direction we should be taking, street-smarts?” 

“Well, the exit was north-west of our cell, so I’m gonna take a wild guess and say we should be heading that way,” you point in the direction you were referring to, “you got your swords?”

“Duh,” is all Eskel offered in response, “do you think so little of me?”

“Do you want an honest answer to that question? C’mon, we’ve wasted enough time waiting for you to drink that stupid Cat potion.”

You ignore Eskel’s grumbled response and take off without another word. You and Eskel have known each other for years. You first met on the path after he saved you from a particularly aggressive female wyvern. The beast was in heat and very territorial, and she did not appreciate anyone interrupting her mating rituals. There had been no contract on her head, you just happened to have the worst of luck. After Eskel saved you, he could hardly believe that he was not only standing face to face with a witcher from the School of the Cat, notoriously responsible for the creation of a famously vicious breed of emotionally-volatile assassins, but face to face with a female witcher no less. Your school often trained women, but very few of those were put through the trials and even fewer survived. You managed to beat the odds. You’re exceptionally good at what you do, which is why you and Eskel got along so well. 

After months of travelling together, and after a boozy night following a successful contract, you and Eskel became lovers. At first, it was purely physical, but as the months bled into years you realised that it was nice to have someone to go back to after an exceedingy shitty year on the Path. You started to miss Eskel after prolonged periods of not seeing each other and that’s when you admitted to yourself that it had stopped being purely physical a long time ago. You couldn’t let Eskel know, though. It would only get to his head. That’s why you settled for the tough love approach instead. It worked fine. Eskel had yet to run away.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you hear the familiar hiss of drowners in the darkness. You and Eskel simultaneously unsheathe your swords and brace yourself for an attack. One drowner sneaks up on Eskel from behind, but you notice it first out of the corner of your eyes and blast Igni in its face. In the meantime, Eskel hacks off the arm of another beast before running his silver sword through its abdomen, killing it with one powerful thrust. In the distance, you hear the echoes of more drowners heading your way. 

“Shit. We need to fucking hurry.” 

You run blindly through the labyrinth of underground tunnels. The truth is that neither of you knows where the exit is, or if there even is an exit. There has to be, you reason, the sewers always lead somewhere. Traditionally to a river, at least. There had to be an exit, or else the underground tunnels would be flooded and you would be swimming in shitwater by now. The fact that you aren’t is a fucking sign right? Right?

“There? You feel that?” Eskel suddenly speaks and instantly every hair on your body bristles in anticipation. 

“Feel what?”

“A draught.” Yes. You do feel it now that Eskel mentioned it. “Follow me. Turn to the left.”

You follow Eskel through the sewers, and to the relief of you both, you’re running away from the nest of drowners rather than towards it. Under any other circumstance neither of you would’ve shied from a group of drowners, but you were trying to escape and not draw more attention to yourself. Some other witcher, one that was preferably not wanted in Temeria, could take care of that one.

“We’re getting closer,” you say when your nose picks up the smell of fish and seawater, “we’ve almost made it.”

You and Eskel reach an opening several frantic minutes later, at once out of breath but also relieved that you managed to find your way out of those dungeons. It’s dark outside, which will help you and Eskel escape without raising too much attention, or so you hope. You both manage to exit the sewers soundlessly. Even Eskel with his impressive size manages to stealth his way past guards and civilians alike. Not as flawlessly as yourself, mind you, but you weren’t one to brag. 

Well, maybe a little bit, but there would be time for boasting later. 

“Hey look, there’s some horses there,” you tell him, your voice too quiet for any mortal ear to pick up but you knew Eskel could hear you loud and clear. 

“No. I need to get back to Scorpion.”

“Oh good gods - really? Eskel, we don’t have time for this. Scorpion is stabled near the city gates… at the other side of fucking town.”

“I’m not leaving Scorpion.”

With that, Eskel takes off in the opposite direction, leaving you to ponder whether you should follow him or go your own way and hope that your paths will cross again eventually. Fuck it, who are you kidding, you wouldn’t let that idiot risk his life for a stupid horse on his own. Well, if he gets caught you might just let him ride it out for a while… you know, just to teach him a lesson. 

You follow Eskel’s trail, making sure to remain unseen. Your hand reaches up and touches your witcher medallion, shaped in the form of a cat’s head, something you’ve done since the trials to ground you, to calm your nerves. After what felt like the longest fucking chase ever, you see Eskel pressed against the wall of the stables that you recognise as the place you two had left your horses in two days ago when you first arrived. Eskel peeks around the corner, checking for guards, and when he’s satisfied that he hasn’t been spotted he climbs up the side of the building at a surprising speed. You curse under your breath, but follow him up onto the roof of the building. 

“You know we could get arrested for this?” you tell him once you reach the top. Eskel raises an eyebrow, a mocking grin tugging at the scarless corner of his lips. Anticipating his smartass remark, you hiss: “I’ve just sneaked out of a dungeon, I don’t fancy another trip through those sewers.”

“Don’t worry, this won’t take you long.”

“Me? Whatever do you mean, me?” Your eyes land on the chimney and its opening, too narrow for Eskel to fit through, but not too narrow to fit… you. Oh, the bastard was going to pay for this. When you turn to glare at your companion, all you can see is the protruding lower lip and the pleading eyes. 

“No…”

“Please? Scorpion means the world to me.”

“What about me?” you snap, forcing yourself to look away or risk falling for Eskel’s pretty face all over again, “don’t I mean the world to you?”

“Of course,” he says, his tone growing softer, “and I’m sure if the situations were reversed, Scorpion would do the same for you.”

“Urgh, fine!” you eventually relent despite the absurdity of Eskel’s last comment, “but you owe me for this.”

To this day you don’t know how you and Eskel didn’t get caught sneaking a massive war stallion out of the stables, nor how you two managed to escape the guards at the city gates. It certainly made for an interesting story that winter when you and Eskel travelled back to Kaer Morhen.  

Lambert relentlessly teases you for ‘growing too soft’ and ‘being wrapped around Eskel’s little finger’, but when you see the open adoration written plainly on Eskel’s face as soon as he and you retreat back to his room, well, you simply don’t find it in yourself to truly mind all that much.