#lump lout

[acmeoop]

First Round “Mad Dog Hoek” (1992)

[maelstroms-blog]

@tringstar

Your piece was so amazing, i couldn’t get the scenario out of my head. I focused on the floating scene, I might do the other scenes, we’ll see, but i hope @tringstar likes it

In this piece, Hob is a widowed tailor, trying to re-join the world, he’s heard the rumours of the wizard, Dream. A beautiful man who eats hearts, Hob isnt worried, he wouldn’t want his broken heart....

Hob bit his lip, scanning the address once more. He shouldn’t have gone down the alley, but he couldn’t cope with the noise. A parade was under way and he just barely managed to squeeze his way out of his shop. He wouldn’t be getting any customers today, not with the festivities, so he promised his friend, Johanna, he’d meet her at her new job. He wasn’t entirely looking forward to it, he knew the real reason she wanted to meet. It was the same thing every time they met.

To get him out of his shop. He couldn’t remember the last time he set foot outside, not after…Eleanor. Even now, after all this time, the grief still brought a lump to his throat. Her absence still a fresh wound, a wound that made him shut himself off from the world, hiding amongst his clothes. The sensation of cloth, silk and wool were the only sensations he knew, that and the constant stitching, mirroring his clumsy heart. When he first lost Eleanor, he couldn’t fathom how his heart could still beat so loud, not without its other half to beat for. Sometimes he rued the day he fell in love. Especially at night, when he lay in bed, alone, and the very thought of his wife made him want to claw out his stupid heart. Squeeze it until it stopped beating, until he no longer felt this pain. Then, the sun would rise, and so would he, ignoring his pain and plastering on a fake smile. He couldn’t let his customers know how hurt he was, they wouldn’t understand.  

Hob sighed, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear. He had been growing it out since Eleanor died, her favourite thing was to run her fingers through his hair, even braiding it while he worked. He wore those braids with pride, eyeing up any man who would dare belittle him for it. He got even more stares now with his long hair, it reached the middle of his back, tamed only by the knotted ribbon, another memento of Eleanor’s. Hob sighed again, forcing the thoughts from his mind. If he let them take root now, his mood would be so dour he would just turn round and head home, locking himself once again from the outside world. The cheering on the streets increased, Hob didn’t bother looking. The fresh air felt foreign to him, his hands broke out in clammy sweat. He pulled his straw hat down lower, shielding his eyes from the harsh light. How he longed for the dank, dusty air of his workshop. Deep in thought, he walked face first into something hard. His hat fell from his head and Hob glanced up. He was face to face with the army general, Sturridge he thinks, a large, lout of a man with a wandering eye and hands to match. Said wandering eye looked Hob up and down, slowly,

‘Hey now, watch yourself,’ he wasn’t chiding, even so, his slimy voice sent a shiver up his spine. Hob stammered, keeping his eyes to the ground,

‘Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to,’ even his voice sounded strange. Being in the shop he had no need to speak, even with his customers he only gave one-word answers.

‘Yeah, you better watch where you’re going,’ another voice added. The owner was a second man, Kingsley, smaller than the first but just as creepy,

‘This guy here is a war hero,’ Kingsley said, devilish smile on his face, ‘You ought to show some respect,’

Hob just kept his eyes down, but his heart was racing,

‘Again, I’m sorry, I was in a hurry,’

Kingsley tutted, ‘Hey, now, no need for all that,’

A hand was suddenly on Hob’s chin, yanking his head up. He was forced to make eye contact with the second man,

‘Pretty thing like you, where are you off to in such a hurry anyway?’

Hob frowned, batting away the hand without thinking,

‘That’s none of your concern,’ he wished his voice was stronger, the obvious wobble made him wince.

The first man, Sturridge, laughed, a deep, mocking laugh that was somehow not swallowed up by the crowd,

‘Ah now, Kingsley,’ he addressed the younger man, ‘You’ve gone and offended him,’

Kingsley just smiled, ‘You started it, that big goblin laugh of yours,’ he turned back to Hob,

‘He should come with us to the parade,’ his hand shot out again, clamping on Hob’s wrist. The touch almost burned his skin, no amount of pulling would free him,

‘Let me go!’ his voice broke again, the other men just laughed,

‘Imagine me, with a feisty thing like this on my arm,’ Kingsley reached out his free hand, Hob cringed.

Then, a deep voice broke through their interaction, ‘There you are, dear,’ another hand clasped Hob’s shoulder, their touch gentle, ‘I was looking everywhere for you.’

Hob glanced down to see a pale, white hand, adorned in shiny rings.

Kingsley snapped, ‘Hey, move it, pal, we’re in the middle of something here,’

‘Yes, you were in the middle of leaving,’ and with that, the stranger waved his other pale hand, like a king dismissing his subjects. In response, the two army men stiffened, their eyes widened but they couldn’t do anything. Then, like a couple of marionette puppets, they marched away until they were swallowed up by the crowd. Hob could only stare after them, too stunned to even breathe. The air around him buzzed with energy, confirming one thing.

He had just witnessed magic.

‘Now then,’ the voice started again, Hob stiffened and turned to meet his supposed saviour. The first thing he noticed was a pair of icy, blue eyes, their gaze seemed to penetrate right through to Hob’s soul. Hob shivered, a chill coming out of nowhere. The stranger tilted his head, pursing his lips as if in thought.

‘How about I escort you to where you need to be?’ his lips, standing out like rubies against his alabaster skin, twitched up into, what he guessed, was a friendly smile.

‘Um…,’ Hob said, eloquently, ‘I-I have to-have to meet a friend,’

The stranger suddenly leaned in close, close enough to touch noses, Hob’s cheeks flushed. This close, he could smell lavender and chamomile, calming scents that did nothing for Hob’s racing heart.

‘Do not react but I am being followed.’

The words echoed through Hob’s mind, by the time he processed them, the stranger was already pulling him forward. Hob stumbled over his own feet but his stranger kept him upright, effortlessly so.

‘Follow my lead,’ his arm looped through Hob’s, he could feel the stranger’s solid, lean form, his entire body was cold, and yet, Hob didn’t feel chilled.

As they walked, playing the role of two courting lovers, Hob thought he heard something behind them. The scuff of footsteps, not even trying to be sneaky. Hob ached to turn around and look, instead, he focused on the stranger. His attire was unusual, well-made but unusual. A pink and blue checked coat, tied around his neck with a thin, gold chain, underneath it, a billowy white shirt, buttoned only at his naval, revealing smooth skin, white as snow. Hob averted his eyes, only to find himself staring at his trousers, black, leather, and tight as anything. Hob gulped. Strong cheekbones stood out like crafted marble, long, glossy black hair cascaded down his back, shinier than the most expensive silk in Hob’s shop. Hanging from his ear, sat a ruby earring, dancing when it caught the light. Hob, not looking where he was going, tripped, and it was only the stranger’s strong grip that stopped him from falling.

‘Careful,’ he quietly warned, he gestured to something over his shoulder. Risking a glance, Hob spotted something dark and writhing, coming their way. It was like shadows personified. At his stranger’s urging, they turned, down a side street, only to find another shadow blocking their way. It towered over them, swaying where he stood. It reached out with long, clawed fingers, dripping like viscous oil.

‘Hang on tight,’ the stranger’s arm snaked its way around Hob’s waist. His blush finally escaped. Before Hob could say anything, his stomach lurched, the feeling that came right before a big fall, or being lifted into the air. It was the latter. Hob was rising, rising above the cottages and shops, until he could make out their thatched roofs. When he finally risked looking down, all he could do was stare. At the spot he stood, not moments before, sat a writhing mass of black tendrils. Flailing and searching for the pair, but they were high in the air, well out of reach. The hand moved from Hob’s waist, fear surged through him and he found himself reaching out, holding onto his stranger like a terrified child.

‘Are you mad?!’ he exclaimed, wind whipped at his face, ‘Listen pal, you may be light as feather but I’m not, you want to see me fall like humpty dumpty?’ At the back of his mind, over his internal screaming, he found himself thinking, that was the most I had spoken in months.

His stranger let out a huff, Hob instinctively knew it was a laugh. He turned to find his stranger looking at him, his ruby lips twitching,

‘Calm yourself,’ he said, his pale hands found Hob’s and held on, Hob held on just as tight, if not more so, ‘With me, you will not fall.’

‘Now, follow my lead,’ his stranger gently instructed. Hob, despite his fear, looked down. His stranger’s heeled boots, finer than any king’s, began to move. Moving as if he was merely walking down a street. Swallowing back his fear, Hob copied, gasping when he did the same, mirroring his stranger’s actions. They walked through the air, high above the noise and lights, far from the people and whatever those creatures were. Hob no longer cared about them. He had achieved every human’s dream, the power of flight, or more accurately, floating. He could feel his stranger’s eyes on him, feel them watching, the way a teacher would watch over a student.

‘That’s it,’ the baritone voice was right by his ear, ‘You are a natural,’ a shiver went up Hob’s spine for an entirely different reason. He even found himself smiling back. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. A flicker passed over his stranger’s face at the sight, his perfectly arched brows twitching together, it only lasted a second, Hob didn’t notice. They air walked a bit more, a couple of curious birds fluttered around their heads. Hob held out his palm, laughing in surprised delight when it landed. The bird was warm and soft in his palm. The stranger’s pale hand came into view, scratching at the bird’s head. It happily cooed.

Finally, they were hovering towards a familiar looking building, Hob couldn’t stop himself from shouting,

‘That’s my stop!’ a quiet hum was his only answer. The pair hopped onto a pole, effortlessly like the birds around them, and with another hop, they were on the balcony. Hob floated down, with grace he didn’t know he had, and he turned to his stranger, a thank you ready on his lips, but one more look at those blue eyes made him freeze. The stranger just looked, the small smile still on his lips. He still held onto Hob’s hand; he couldn’t help noting the differences. Hob’s own scarred hand dwarfed his stranger’s lithe fingers, there wasn’t a blemish on his skin. The stranger obviously hadn’t worked a day in his life, despite this, he had strength that belied his appearance.

‘Now, I am going to lead away my stalkers, I think it would be a good idea if you didn’t travel home alone,’

Hob could have listened to that voice all day, better than any music he played in his workshop,

‘Alright,’ was all Hob could say, he smiled again, hoping the stranger knew just how thankful he was.

‘Very well,’ and then, as if Hob hadn’t had enough excitement for one day, his stranger leaned down and pressed his lips to Hob’s hand, his skin hummed in response.

‘Until we meet again, Robert Gadling.’ Hob blinked; he never gave his name. With those parting words, his stranger took a step backward, off the balcony and fell from sight. Hob gasped, rushing to the railing. There was nothing, the stranger was nowhere to be seen, and there was no way someone like him could blend into a crowd. With his heart still racing and blood pumping hard, he didn’t hear Johanna coming up behind him,

‘Hob?! How did you get up here?’

Hob didn’t answer right away, memorising every inch of his stranger’s face, embedding it into his brain and, hopefully, his dreams. He finally turned to Johanna, trying and failing to hide his goofy smile,

‘I think I just met the wizard Dream.’

Hope you enjoyed reading, thank you again for @tringstar for granting me permission to write this, i hope it met your expectations and i hope i captured the magic of the scene.

i love Dreamling and Studio Ghibli <3

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e/ chapter twenty six

Tommy

I was circling the countryside, tracking down country lanes in a spiral back towards Arrow House. Back home, without my little sister. Feeling defeated. Frustrated. Feeling the nauseous chill which sets in after the panic has passed. When you've burnt through all that fight or flight, when all the adrenaline you wasted has amounted to nothing... all that buzzing static, that rushing blood, all those racing thoughts for nothing because in the end they hadn't mattered either way. She wasn't here. We'd lost her.

We'd be lucky if we ever got her back.

"Jesus Christ," I growled to no one but myself through gritted teeth, "Jesus fucking Christ!" I spat eyes squeezed shut as I let my head fall down against the steering wheel. Driving blind down the road until I heard a tractor and swerved into the closest pocket, a cattle crossing with a rusty old gate.

I had that lump in my throat like I was about to cry. Hadn't done that for a long time, knew it wouldn't do me any good now anyway. Wouldn't bring her back. A useless emotion, a useless habit to get into.

I sucked in my cheek instead, bit until I drew blood and kept my eyes wide open until I felt the dry sting. The tears receding, the hurt swallowed down. The only way I knew how to handle it. Locked it away, started the car and did a U-Turn. No more slow spiral home. Accepted the truth of the matter, the dreary, bleak reality. The facts.

Sylvie had snook away from us. Been too clever, too quick... too much like her brothers. Too much perhaps like me.

She wasn't coming back by herself and she was already beyond my reach. I'd lost her.

When the phone started ringing I moved listlessly. Didn't rush to answer, much to the caller's disgruntled amusement.

"You know Tommy if it was my family yeah... if it was my little..."

"Enough Alfie," I groaned, "spare me the concern eh, I'll run my family my way yeah, you can do whatever you like with whatever I've got..."

"Well," he said, a darkness in his voice that didn't sit right with. Me didn't worry me as it should have because I'd already decided Sylvie was lost to the world. Gone for good. "Well," he said, "that's just it right, that's just it mate... what have I got Tommy... What have I..."

"I don't know Alfie what have you got eh do us both a favour would you, keep it short an sweet... I'm driving I can hardly afford to fall asleep at the..."

"She's safe Tommy," he said, his words not quite registering with me as I trailed off, as I swallowed the sprout of hope, tried to ignore the little bud about to open because this was Alfie Solomons and he'd never delivered good news to me before.

"She's what?"

"She's here mate, she's here and she's safe and..."

"Jesus Christ Alfie why the fuck didn't you just say that..." I shook, my chuckle a little breathy, disbelieving though I should have believed it. "What about Isaiah?"

"And..." he cut my smile short, "she wants to stay here with me...if that's alright with you of course mate..." the sound of his smile got under my skin, pissed me off more than I should have let it.

"What?" I frowned turning the car down a sharp winding lane, headlights on to cut through the mist. I should have been paying attention to the roads, not to Alfie. Should have been watching for lights in the fog. Should have been thinking about every possible threat. But I wasn't.

"Oh who? The lout? He's fine too, fuckin annoyin cunt but... I ain't harmed the lad yet..."

"Alfie... what the fuck did you just say to me..."

"She came here Tommy, I didn't even have to go lookin for her yeah... she brought herself all the way here and you know what she did mate? You know what she did... seriously mate I don't know what the fuck you're doin up there, how you're raisin the kids but fuck me... you've gotta change your fuckin ways cause this one's fucked in the head," he said, this amusement mixed up with his warning. I could picture him grinning, could picture him leant back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, smoking a cigarette and grinning down the line, waving one hand about his head, the other holding his phone to his ear.

"Look mate if she's broken somethin I'll pay you back whatever I don't care..." I started, trying to focus on driving, trying to control the hope in my chest, the warmth which had returned to me when he'd said she was safe. Just because she was safe didn't mean she was going to stay safe. Not when it was Alfie who had her.

"Broken somethin? Mate she's the fackin broken one..." he said, "seriously..." he said, I could picture his eyes popping, could hear the shock in his voice and it made me smirk, "she's a fuckin sociopath Tommy..." he said.

"So melodramatic Alfie..." I mused, "go on then enlighten us, what's she done?" I asked with a sigh knowing that this would be a long story either way I played it. That I just had to humour him because for as long as he had Fen with him I was in his pocket.

"She fuckin came in here right, fuckin barged in here yeah, poor Ollie couldn't hold her back mate, poor boys traumatised Tommy, he'll need fuckin therapy yeah!"

"She's a teenage girl Alfie..."

"She's a little piece of hell is what she is Tommy, she's got a little piece of hell in her eyes... I looked into em yeah, I looked right into em an you know who I fuckin saw?"

"Go on..." I sighed, I already knew the answer. I needed a cigarette so I pulled up at the side of the road. Shouldn't have done.

"I saw you Tommy..."

I had to laugh then, had to let out that short disbelieving breath, had to smile and shake my head because if I didn't he'd know I believed him. He'd know I saw it too. He'd know that that was what really scared me.

Not the thought of little fen out on her own, lost and helpless, but the thought of Sylvia just cunning enough to weasel herself into a place she couldn't escape. And perhaps she'd already done that.

"Then why do you wanna keep her Alfie?" I asked forcing myself to relax, concentrating on my shoulders, rolling them once, twice. Focussing on my temples, forcing myself to feel them relax too as I exhaled slowly.

"Because..." he said, "and you'd know this right if you'd let me finish my fuckin story yeah Tommy, patience remember is a virtue... you still believe in them yeah? Virtues?"

"Finish your story Alfie, I'm not stopping you..." I said watching the rain which thrummed against the windshield, flicked my wipers on. Watched the leaking grey sky, the thunder would roll in from the hills soon. I needed to be home before the roads flooded.

"She fuckin barged into my office yeah and she danced for me..." he sounded astounded. I didn't feel half as surprised as I should have done.

"She danced?"

"Yeah!" He cried, "she stood on my rug right and she did a little dance... swan lake I think mate... it was fuckin holy mate... bought a tear to this cold man's dead fuckin eyes..."

"Right," I nodded thinking of my little sister, trying to picture the scene. Her e'n pointe in the middle of Alfie's old persian rug. A rug I'd stood on many times, a rug I'd once thought I was going to die on. I tried to imagine her dancing, the graceful, fae like way I'd been watching her dance since she were only a little girl. "So she danced for you..." I said turning onto a wider road, one which wasn't just a dirt track, "and now you want to keep her?"

"Nah," he frowned, "nah.. you my old friend are deliberately misunderstanding me ain't you... trying to make me sound like a fuckin nonce yeah? She told me she wants to stay in London... under my protection..." I could tell he was grinning , revelling in his own amusement at my expense. I shouldn't have let it get to me but it was, getting to me that is. "And she wants you to let her twin sister come to stay too..."

"Not happening." I said it a little too quickly, probably shouldn't have said anything at all because Alfie was most certainly trying to press my buttons but the words had left my lips before I'd had the chance to think.

"No? Well that is a shame mate cause I've already got one haven't I... she's gonna be awful lonely on her own ain't she... be a shame to keep em apart, twins ain't 'sposed to be split up for too long... woulda thought your lot woulda known that mate... really..."

I cut the engine, lit up a cigarette. Cut the headlights too so that my car was swallowed up for a minute or two by the gloom. For a second I could pretend that I too had been swallowed whole. That none of it mattered anymore. That it was all already over. That I could float about in it, the darkness, the gloom, the vapour that makes up the rain cloud when it's still just a cloud.

"Forget it Alfie, Sonya's stayin right here... and I'm coming to get Sylvie, I'll drive down today, pick her up ton..."

"Hold your horses gypsy boy," chuckled Alfie infuriating me then. A spark of rage shooting through me as I sparked my lighter and watched the flame lick at the tip of my cigarette once more.

"My little sister ain't a piece in your chess set Alfie..." I warned him but he only smirked again, all melodramatic reassurances.

"I know I know mate," he said, "listen Tommy... when did you get so distrusting eh? When did you get so suspicious of everyone... even your oldest pals? Now you tell me yeah... you tell me what reason I'd have for wanting to hurt your little Sylvia? Now think about it good and proper for a minute yeah cause I want a good fuckin answer... cause hurtin little girls mate, there ain't no good reason for that as far as I'm concerned...it's fuckin disgustin right...now really I thought you and me were on the same page there Tommy..."

"Yeah alright Alfie.." I said raising my hand to silence him, waving away the smoke from my cigarette before gripping the steering wheel too tightly seconds later when I realised he was reeling me in again, that I was falling for his oldest trick. "I agree with you alright, that's why I'm gonna come pick my sister up tonight yeah, bring her home... don't want anyone gettin hurt eh?"

"Tommy, Tommy, you ain't listening to me mate, you ain't usin them ears are yours Tommy, listen to me right cause I've told you once and I don't wanna keep goin round in circles with you yeah.. I phoned you right... to let you know that your little sister yeah, little Sylvia is a fucking sociopath... I just thought I'd remind you of that yeah... cause you don't seem to realise just how fuckin insane she is right.."

"So she's insane," I shrugged, doing my best to deaden my tone, let him know I wasn't bothered. Let him know that I didn't believe a word he was saying to me. "People say that about you too don't they..."

"Yeah..." he said leaning on the word, still grinning down the line, "yeah they do and insane right, recognises insane... an here I thought you already knew that Tom my old mate... I always thought that was why we were such good pals..."

"Fine," I said with a small smirk, "I'll bring me straight jacket.."

"Tommy mate.." he said again, that apologetic tone he kept putting on driving me insane, "look am sorry mate but she don't wanna go home... she wants to stay here..." he sounded like he was going to carry on, sounded like he had something else to tell me, some bargain to make. But I wasn't in the mood for cutting deals. Now my mind was racing, the cogs turning, the plans falling into place. I would go back to the house, I'd tell Arthur and John what was going on. Then I'd drive to collect Sylvia myself, I'd being her home and I'd throttle Isaiah for being so fucking irresponsible and stupid.

"She just don't wanna go home..."

"Yeah well you tell her from me right, you tell her you can't always get what you want," I said finally, determined that that would be the last we spoke on the matter, "it isn't up for debate Alfie I want her home..."

It was only when I hung up the phone and looked out into the murky afternoon that I sensed it. Something wrong.

Something out there in the fog, a shadow... someone watching me and my cigarette. Someone I could only hope hadn't been able to see me clearly through the mist.

There was a car stopped a little way behind me, their lights off but their shadow still palpable from certain angles when the light hit through the vapour.

When I started the car I felt the low warm rumble of it coming back to life vibrate through my body. I sat listening carefully to the heater turning on, I watched the condensation on the windows clear slowly.

And when I pulled away I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror, watching for movement in the mist behind me. Swallowing a lump in my throat when I saw it, a car following me from a short distance down the road. Stalking me silently as I drove towards the house.

So I couldn't go home and I couldn't turn and head for London as I'd just informed Alfie I would. Instead I had to lead them somewhere else. Lure them out of the winding country lanes, to somewhere I knew better than them.

"Arthur..." I spoke into a burner, "tell John to secure the house then meet me at the Millers Rest, come strapped..." I said carefully, quietly, listening to my brother's breathing on the other end of the line, waiting to hear his grunt of agreement, waiting for the question I didn't want to answer.

"You found her?" He asked, the edge of hope in his voice difficult to swallow when I knew I was about to crush it.

"This ain't about that... Arthur I need you focussed yeah... forget her, focus on this..."

I knew my words would cut him, that they'd leave a nauseous taste on the back of his tongue, green and guilty. But in our family someone had to be heartless, someone had to have clarity, someone had to be able to see the bigger picture always and that was me. I had to be this way because neither John nor Arthur would ever be capable of it.

So even if the words sounded cold, even if they sounded like they came from that part of me I loathed, I had to say them. Had to get him to focus on the task in hand, that is to say living through the next hour.

The Millers Rest was an inn abandoned way out in the middle of the peaks. We'd taken over it many years ago because it was tucked away in the valley between two hills, on the edge of a woodland, far from the city but also miles from any of the little villages and hamlets nestled between the peaks. It was the perfect place to disappear, the perfect place to make other people disappear too. So I drove slowly, uncertain when exactly I'd collected my hanger on, refusing to change my behaviour. Pretending I was still searching the winding lanes for Sylvia.

Sylvia who was fucking miles away, doing fuck knows what because she was stubborn and childish, because she was scorned and pissed off with me. Endangering her life because I'd told her no.

As I drove I watched the shadow moving through the rain carefully, noted how it stopped and started every now and then, trying to keep a safe distance. Trying to remain shrouded completely.

They probably thought it would be easier to stay hidden because I wouldn't be looking for them. Because I wouldn't be paying attention to them. Now I had to hope they weren't paying too much attention to anything but me. Had to hope they wouldn't notice that I was no longer driving them to Arrow House.

If they followed me to the Millers they'd follow me to their death.

I sped up at the last minute, racing around the final corner and up the straight line of road which ran past the inn. Swerving the car to a sudden stop in the middle of the road I abandoned it and ran to join my brother where he would be waiting. In the line of trees at the edge of the woodlands. Strapped and waiting for me or for the enemy, whoever turned up first.

"The fucks all this about Tommy, am fuckin soaked waitin here for..." started Arthur as I snatched a loaded assault rifle from him. He didn't question that, just picked up the other which rested at his feet. Prepared himself.

"I've been followed," I panted a little out of breath from my sudden sprint to the trees, in truth i had hardly noticed the rain when I'd run across the grass, "fuckin don't know who it is but theyve followed me all the way fuckin here through the rain and they'll be here any fuckin second now so be ready..."

"How do we know they're Italians?" He frowned, setting his weapon up and standing back against the tree trunk. The rain had come down hard on him and his red hair was dark and hanging limp and dripping in his face.

"We fuckin don't but whoever they are... they ain't our fuckin friends..."

"Nah," he shook his head, his eyes narrowing. I offered him a tight smile, a nod of approval because it reassured me to see his cogs start turning, the gears shifting. In a few moments time he wouldn't be Arthur Shelby anymore, something else would take over and he would keep us safe, that feverish streak of rage inside him, foaming at the bit, only ever held back by the thinnest of threads.

"Fuckin ain't our friends," I said again my own eyes darkening as I saw a black rangerover roll to a halt. As I saw two men jump down from either side of the car. I raised my hands to hush my brother but I didn't need to. He was watching them, silent, his cheeks flushing with the first shades of anger.

"Fuckin... how dare they come here threatenin my fuckin family..." he growled, his voice low but not low enough. The men weren't looking at the trees however, weren't listening for men hiding in the trees.

"Hush Arthur... Wait a moment eh," I said with a small smirk, watching as the two men knocked on the Inn door. They waited and, just out of sight, we waited.

"Fuckin c'mon lets just kill em," grumbled Arthur growing all the more impatient.

"Nah," I whispered, "not yet eh, wanna see what they do..."

And what they did surprised me.

"What the..." I mouthed, refusing to blink as I observed with wide eyes the strangest thing I'd ever seen two men do. They waited for a moment and then, when no one answered, they returned to the car and took out two shovels.

"Arthur... give me you phone..." I held my hand out waiting to feel the weight of it in my grasp. I closed my fingers around it and then held it up, using the camera to zoom in and record them as they dug their shovels into the ground and began digging.

"The fuck are we waiting for Tommy?" Grumbled Arthur, hushed by the hand I waved absently in his direction. "You wanna let them dig their own graves?" He smirked shaking his head, "you sick fuck."

"Shhh!" I hissed growing impatient, watching them dig, "I said wait Arthur, so just... wait." I held my fingers to my lips, holding the camera steady, trying to get a view on their faces. But they were wearing hoods under their jackets and they had scarves wrapped around their faces so all I could see was a blur of skin and wool shadow.

"Don't think that's a grave.." I said when they dropped their shovels two hours later, they stood hands on their backs, panting. One of them lit up a cigarette as the other crouched at the side of the hole.

For another minute or so they just stood, one out of breath, complaining to the other in Italian, the other on the floor swearing back.

"Wop bastards," murmured Arthur, "c'mon Tommy what are we waitin for?"

"You hear me Arthur it ain't a fuckin grave..." I said raising my finger to quiet him, "so we're waiting..."

"Fuck sake Tommy I don't like this..."

"Don't be so impatient brother," I smirked watching the men through the camera on Arthur's phone. "Look.." I said doing my best to focus the camera on the edge of the hole, "dumped somet I reckon..."

"So fuckin what!" Snapped Arthur, "cunts were following you fuckin home... we should just fuckin..."

"Shh!" I hissed when one of the Italians turned their head sharply, their eyes scanning their surroundings. They'd heard him.

Behind me Arthur hushed and raised his gun.

I held my hand out to steady him, to calm him down.

"Hold fire..." I murmured. Waited...

For a second all was still. The Italians, Arthur and I, the car they'd left idling. The rest of the world carried on, the trees moved under the best of relentless rain. The mud shifted, gathered and collapsed washed down the side of the hill in dirty rivulets.

Not us though.

It was as if we were disconnected. A switch flicked.

I weighed up our options... considered their unusual behaviour, the mystery I wanted to unpick. Considered how badly I wanted those answers. And then I nodded.

"Alright," I said lowering my hand, raising my own gun in time with Arthur as we fired in unison.

The first shots flew and wounded the man who had been standing, the one who had heard us. We didn't give them a chance to understand, a chance to defend themselves. Just approached slowly, a malevolent shadow emerging from the undergrowth, spraying bullets across the field, shattering the windows of their idling rangerover. Shattering the windows of the inn.

Firing until we were certain that both men on the floor were no longer men but corpses. Lifeless sacks of blood and bone and muscle tissue.

I lowered my weapon, pointing my barrel down at the paling features of the dead man at my feet. Looking down at him I felt nothing but the usual hollow, a mild disgust at the speed the soul leaves a body. How fleeting the moment at which we become a shell.

I kicked at his shoulder and watched the blood which stained his shirt wash away in the rain, replaced moments later by a constant blossom of red. I emptied his pockets, found ID, keys, cash and a burner phone that was probably already useless.

The lad wasn't even a Sabini, wasn't a Changretta, just some poor lad from the bottom rungs, a Conti trying to make a name for himself.

"Alright," I said plainly, turning away from the dead Italian to face my brother who was still looking down at the other.

"Alright," nodded Arthur his rain soaked hair falling across his face despite his repeated efforts to push it back. The rain was cold, ran in thick streams off our coats.

"Get your shovel Arthur," I said with an ironic half smile, shrugging my long black coat from my shoulders, abandoning it on the front door step.

Arthur didn't say a word, didn't complain though digging graves in this weather was sickening work. Just grunted and accepted his task, taking it just as I was. As penance for the evil deed we had just committed.

For hours in the rain the only sound either of us made was to grunt with exhaustion, a growl of frustration every time we lunged into the earth, hitting the shovel against the sludge, heaping it like shit behind us. It was relentless, the rain coming down so heavy that any progress we made felt trivial when every wrong step too close to the ledge of the hole saw the wall shift and then slide in on itself, filling the grave with mud before we could dig deep enough.

"Fuck this Tommy we're gonna be here all fuckin night!"

"If we're here all fuckin night we're here all fuckin night!" I growled bringing my foot down on the shovel and pushing with all my weight to try and shift as much soil as I could. "Fuck your comfort brother, we've killed these men so we'll fuckin bury em..."

And we did, but it took all night.

The sunset and we hardly noticed, the moon rose and all we felt was the chill, the burn in our muscles enhanced by the stinging of our chapped skin.

By the time we returned to Arrow House the following morning we were both pale and sheer as ice, bodies sore and stiff from a night of digging, of hauling dead men through the mud.

Our clothes were heavy from the rain, not a hair between us spared. We were soaked through, shivering with bloodshot eyes. Two stray dogs who had dragged themselves to the only safe place they knew.

The door closed behind us with a thud. The house hadn't been quiet but when the echo ricocheted down the hall the house fell silent.

Then there were footsteps. So light I'd have missed them had I not been suffering such a manic rush of adrenaline.

"Tommy!" Cried Sonya, her voice frail as she threw herself at me, her arms wrapping around me so tight that for a moment - once I'd adjusted to the initial shock of proximity - I struggled to catch my breath.

I took a step back, trying to balance myself where she'd knocked my center of gravity, my arms closing around her petit frame slowly, hesitant at first but firmer when she nuzzled into my chest and I heard the first sob.

"Alright Fen, it's alright..." I sighed, voice as gentle as I could manage, trying to hide the grazed way my throat felt when I spoke.

"Oh..." smirked Ada from halfway down the stairs, she was wrapped in a silk dressing gown, a pair of thick woolen socks on her feet miring the glamour of caramel she'd draped herself in, "look what the cat dragged in..." she narrowed her eyes but she couldn't hide the relief she felt so I knew she was glad to see us home. Not that it mattered much because I couldn't stay.

Still, I held onto Sonya and let her cry into my soaked shirt, stroked my fingers slowly through her long hair which she'd let fall down for once, blond locks uncombed, falling down around her waist. When she pulled away her eyes were wild with love and she couldn't have known it but had it not have been for the dye in her hair she'd have looked just like our mother.

She watched me with those wild wide eyes, tears still gathered in her lashes. Concentrating, studying me and then Arthur for injuries, for blood.

But the rain had washed most of the blood from our hands and the stains on our shirts were pinkish and faint.

"You two took your time, where were you?" Asked Ada observing us from a distance. Like she knew not to get too close. Like she knew what we'd been doing and didn't want tainted by the curse we carried.

And when I thought of that I flinched, dropped my hands from Sonya's shoulders and took a step back.

"Fuckin weathers fuckin awful," grunted Arthur, guilt radiating from the two of us so that even innocent Sonya bristled.

She looked up at me with dark, sorry eyes, eyes which asked me to shake my head, asked me to tell her that it really was just the weather that had left us like this. Washed up and late home with nothing to show for it.

So I shook my head.

"Sylvies in London," I said, "she's safe for now, Alfie's given me his word that he will look after her until I am able to bring her home..."

Sonya gasped, held her hand over her mouth to mute the choked sob of relief. I couldn't help the tug of a tender smile on my lips then, a momentary warmth which touched my heart. At least there was one Shelby who still knew how to feel.

"Alfie Solomons is 'looking after' her?" Ada scoffed, "Are you kidding Tommy? Alfie fuckin Solomons! He tried to kill Arthur!" She was looking at me not just with disbelief but disgust too, her arms folded, her teeth catching the light when her jaw hung slack and stunned.

"He is..." I said nodding, "and he did once try to..."

"twice," coughed Arthur, "it was twice actually Tommy remember..."

"he has tried, on multiple occasions... in the past, to kill our brother Arthur but... Alfie's an old fashioned man and he has a policy doesn't he..."

"A policy?" Ada scoffed, "a fuckin policy Tommy..."

"He has a policy of not hurting women and children, so our Fen will be safe with him and Isaiah until I go to London... I'm leaving today, she won't be waiting long..."

"For god sake Tommy look at you," derided Polly, her slinking figure materialising in the kitchen doorframe, a lit cigarette between her fingers which she looked down to focus on me, "you're not going anywhere in that state and you know it..."

"Can't wait I'm afraid Pol..." I started only to be silenced by my sister.

"Pols right Tommy look at you both for fuck sake, you're soaked to the bone... you look like you haven't slept all night... you can't go to London in this state, it's not safe.."

"Ada's right Tommy, you'll need your wits about you down south... won't be a youngen in London won't be looking for a shot at a peaky blinder to earn a bit of clout with the Italians..." Said Esme, her feet padding down the stairs as she carried the baby in her arms. She too looked tired, she too wore her concern on her sleeve.

"Enough mithering eh," I said with a lighter smile, trying to shrug their concerns off, turning to Arthur with a grin so that he would play along. "We're fine aren't we Arth, ain't made of sugar, a bit of rain never did anyone any harm..."

"That's right," agreed Arthur gruffly, pushing his sodden hair from his eyes once more. The blood under his nails caught the light, reminded me of the graves we'd left at the foot of the valley beneath the Miller's rest. Reminded me why I felt that tight burn across my shoulders, why standing up straight ached right down to my thighs.

"Nothin a hot shower and coffee won't fix..." I said, "Ada if you're worried about your big brothers I'll let you cook us breakfast if you like... how about something hearty eh?" I asked her with a teasing smile, relief washing over me when she gasped, astounded and biting back a giggle when she hit me with the baggy sleeve of her dressing gown.

"Get fucked Tommy..."

But our jokes weren't enough to quell Aunt Pols concerns, not enough to pacify her and so when Arthur and I headed for the spa to soak ourselves in warmer water, thaw our batter bodies out for an hour, she followed me, rushing to keep up with me as I tried to lose her.

"Thomas! Thomas I don't like this... this is a bad idea Thomas.."

"Pol," I sighed, "Pol following us in here is a bad idea..." I said resting my hand on her shoulder in the doorway to the health suite. My grip was light but firm and it stopped her. Left her looking up at me stubborn and shadowy as ever.

"You won't get her back if you go tonight..." she said finally, holding my gaze, threatening me with her coal black eyes.

Taglist

@jomarch-wannabe @zablife @call-sign-shark @toddlerbodybag @marwwfairy @mollybegger-blog @itsghostgirlyo @elina-777 @everysage @liliac-dreamer @impossibleheartflower @inalovesrabbits-blog

[evelynmlewis]

The Boy in the Castle - Final Chapter

Previous

Chapter 9

Ilya banged on the heavy oak outer doors of the guard-house, and his weak fists produced only a solid thudding sound.

“Come on!” He yelled up at the battlements. “Let him go. He’s just a kid. Please.”

The men on the walltop scratched their heads and looked down at him.

“SIR, PLEASE!”

“Go away, man!” shouted the guard on top of the gate.

“What do you even want with him?!”

“How should I know? Get out of here! You should be grateful, you lout!”

It was only when one of them raised his crossbow that Ilya started to back across the threadlike bridge.

His horse was waiting on the other side. Yes, it was his horse. He eyed up the castle desperately. “You can’t do this,” he kept muttering to himself; a useless mantra. “You can’t… you can’t…”

He mounted the horse, and spurred it down the road in his frustration, then stopped, and reined it in. No, he couldn’t—!

He pulled around and started awkwardly back in the other direction. There was the bridge again, but nothing was different. He rode back and forth aimlessly, back up and down the road, wandering, then stopping, as though sizing up the castle to attack it. He knew they were all watching him with amusement. Pointing and laughing, most likely. But what could he do? Boris had said it, he was only a common hireling, no threat whatsoever.

He continued this restless motion with increasing desperation throughout the day, as the sun fell lower in the sky.

 Finally, when the sun was touching the far horizon in the west, he stopped and simply looked up at the castle from a distance. Everything seemed still and quiet. There was no motion, not even a breath of air.

The sun dropped below the horizon, and shadows fell across the land.

Now it was too late. Ilya slumped forward in the saddle. Not caring anymore, he dropped the rein and let the horse decide where to go.

The animal took him south, along the road toward Lohova. When he reached the town, it was still night. He paid no mind to his surroundings. But when he practically fell off the horse behind the first inn he encountered, something slid out of the saddlebag. It was his own coin purse. He opened it.

It was those accursed 100 coins.

Now it seemed only cruel to send them. He had half a mind to throw them in the gutter. But he had given no thought to how he was to pay for his stay.

After paying at the inn several days in advance, he set about trying to forget the events of the past week. It didn’t work very well.

It was while he was there on the second day, drinking himself blind, that he felt a hand grab him by the back of the shirt.

“Well, if it isn’t Ilya Severin.”

He looked up to see the face of his old royal army captain.

 Another glance around the tavern showed him what he’d been too drunk and dispirited to realize before. There were quite a few royal soldiers in here, actually, seated here and there, filling up the back tables, and they looked like they were celebrating.

All at once, everything that he’d seen while riding in, but not really looked at, clicked into place. The unusual numbers of people in the street. The colorful flags and banners hung from windows. The white doves flying in great flocks through the air.

This meant Lohova was controlled. And if Lohova was controlled, Stosla, the capitol, was controlled, and if the capitol was controlled…

Did we win?

“Well?” mocked the captain. “Too drunk to answer me? Do you regret leaving us, coward? You yellow-bellied, chicken-faced, lump of worthless…” He shook Ilya by the shoulders. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to defend yourself?” He dropped him in disgust, and Ilya sank back into the chair, limp and bleary. “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t got any fight in you, have you?”

“Oh come on,” called another soldier across the tavern. “We’re having a good time, my man. Just arrest him and have done with it.”

“I suppose,” the captain begrudgingly admitted to the soldier, his lieutenant.

“We can send him on to Stosla where they imprison the deserters. I heard the King is on his way there, to arrive soon.”

“His arrival was delayed, no one knows where he is.”

“Regardless, we took the city on his order, did we not? I’m sure he will be back on the throne soon. After we return from smoking out the Vroek Coalition’s mountain hideout, you could even stop in to see Private Severin sentenced, if you like.”

 “All right,” grumbled the captain, although Ilya was sure he would have liked to beat the tar out of him on the spot.

Not even the news that the Vroek Coalition would soon be defeated could lift his spirits. The prospect of going straight back to jail, however, was darkly ironic.

***

And so, Ilya was taken to the Capitol at Stosla, and put into the royal jail. Now he had been imprisoned by both sides of the conflict in the space of a few days. But this time, it was for actual crimes. And he almost didn’t care anymore.

At least, he told himself he didn’t. But there was a small, barred window high in the wall, that looked out on the street level, and he found himself raising his head to look when the sound of marching feet passed by. After the space of one week, the boots of the King’s men marched back through the streets. They had returned.

It was not long then before a man came to get him. It was one of the palace guards. This imprisonment had somehow gone much quicker than the last one, as though he had been half sleeping the entire time.

“You’ve been summoned by the King,” said the guard.

Now, suddenly, he was fully awake, and painfully self-conscious. He started in alarm. “What?!”

“The King has returned and he asked for you specifically. By name. Come on.”

Ilya shrank back, his eyes widening. He hadn’t figured it was possible for things to get worse, but somehow they had. Most people were not sentenced before the King.

“Y…you’ve got the wrong idea,” he stuttered. He didn’t know what to say. Were they going to accuse him of some even worse crime than desertion, like treason? God forbid it had something to do with Castle Tyrna.

“I don’t know what idea I’ve got,” said the man bemusedly. “The King wants to see you, that’s all I know.”

Still he hesitated. “What, right now?” he pulled at his clothes. “Like this?”

The soldier looked him over with a skeptical eye, seeing his dirt and sweat and grime. “No, not like that. We’ll have you put some real clothes on.”

***

The castle at Stosla was tall and white, with red colored rooftops. They walked through a great green courtyard with bushes pruned into elaborate shapes. There was a flock of white doves, kept by the crown, housed in one of the towers, and the flock was out, making joyous circles over the rooftops as domesticated birds are wont to do.

He could hear the sound of bells ringing across the lawn, up from the city outside. As they came toward the gilded doors, the doves swooped straight down the pavilion and flew up from behind them in a great cloud, so that he could almost feel the brush of their wings on his shoulders.

The doors opened. Sunlight slanted into the great hall through the upper windows, in bright golden beams. White flowers dripped from the windows and vases and every surface. Gold trimmed arches ringed overhead.

There were so many people.

It was actually only two dozen attendants or less, but to Ilya it seemed that it was many, and he felt overwhelmed. The men at the door were armed with swords. The women… why were there women?

From the other side, the King walked in. He was dressed all in red, with a long robe that dragged against the floor. On his head was a golden crown set with rubies.

A heralder announced him. “His Royal Majesty, Aleksandr II Konstantin.”

Everyone in the room briefly kneeled. Ilya dropped to his knees, feeling like the breath was knocked out of his body.

Alexei ran up and threw his arms around him.

Suddenly, it was like a cloud passed out of his mind. He wasn’t going to die, but it was more than that. He felt very alive. The colors in everything suddenly seemed sharper and clearer. Maybe it was all right, being alive.

“It’s you,” he said.

“It’s me,” said Alexei. They had partly separated but the boy held his hands with his small hands, and Ilya looked at them in wonder.

“But…” He looked around at the room full of people, more perplexed than anything, and sat back on his heels. “I… I don’t know anything about anything, do I?”

Alexei gave a wan smile, but his eyes were full of tears.

“How did you survive?”

“Anatoliy helped me escape.”

“I’m so confused. I don’t understand.”

“I can explain.” A man’s voice came from behind him, and he looked to see Anatoliy coming up behind. Now, instead of being dressed in the clothes of the Vroek Coalition, he was dressed in the Royal uniform. The young man bowed respectfully and smiled. “If you would permit me, Your Majesty.”

“Yes,” Alexei nodded. “Please.”

“After the Queen and young Aleksandr fled Belova, they stayed in secret at Saint Beska’s Abbey in Rostek, hidden by the nuns. But the Queen knew that they would eventually have to return. From the abbey she sent communications with the army, and finally as the conditions grew more favorable, they signaled her, alerting her that they would within days retake Stosla, and that she and her son must return with all haste. For it is not good for a kingdom to be without a king.

"But, though their insider knowledge, which I had been providing for some time, told them that the Coalition was not likely to interrupt them on their planned route, the way was still through Coalition territory, and it was necessary to travel undercover and exercise the utmost caution. With them, they carried the royal messenger doves to signal their approach and order the army to advance into place to secure their position as they entered the city.

“As a spy infiltrating the ranks of the Coalition, I had been recently stationed in the headquarters at Castle Tyrna, but had been unable to reach the army to convey information on this matter.”

Ilya nodded readily, he had at least figured out this last part.

“Dismayed as I was to encounter the Queen and the young King, the Queen had not yet been recognized, and so I was able to use my rank to shelter her for a time by preventing the examination of her affects. The King had not yet been discovered, and as you well know, I kept him hidden in my room.”

Alexei tugged on his sleeve, and Anatoliy stopped.

“I wanted to tell you,” said Alexei. “But Mama said not to tell you anything because it would put you in more danger.”

“I see.” Ilya flushed, rubbing the back of his neck absently. To think that he’d been hired to transport the young King without knowing; and that he had treated him so dismissively as well. He looked down at the tile.

“After a while,” said Anatoliy, “I was no longer able to have the Queen visit my rooms because the rumors were becoming too pervasive and risked both of our covers. I do sincerely apologize, your Majesty.”

Alexei sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. I d-don’t hold it ag—” Ilya could tell he was about to start crying. The boy sniffled and wiped his eyes, then began to explain again. “I couldn’t get to Mama to ask her if it was okay, but I knew she was in trouble and I had to do it myself. I decided to be brave like you said. I sent the doves anyway. I told them where we were. I knew they couldn’t show up in time to save me or Mama, but it was the only way to keep you from getting killed.” He trailed off, and Anatoliy took up.

“The young king also doubtless knew that the army was in position to retake Stosla and could not continue waiting. They needed the signal regardless of His Majesty’s personal arrival. However, the handwritten note was an idea of his own.

“When General Boris arrived at Castle Tyrna, he of course immediately required the handover of the Queen’s personal effects. I knew what would result from this but could do nothing, as the Queen had been separated from me for some time. The box contained many documents and items with the royal seal specifically designed to prove her identity. However, the fact that her son was traveling with her was not immediately apparent.

“I had suspected that Alexei was getting out from time to time, though he had hidden his disappearances from me. When I returned to my rooms that day, I found that he was gone. Instead, I found a note. He had warned me that he was about to reveal himself. I had little time. I slipped into the passage in the rock.

“This was a room I had requested by design, so that it would be easier for me to move about as a spy and escape if necessary. The crown well knows about the secret passages at Tyrna, and we know them better than the Vroek Coalition – the castle was ours before it was theirs, after all.

“I slipped back to the dungeon to release Alexei. His Majesty had been there for only a few minutes.”

Ilya breathed a sigh of relief.

“Then we went to the tunnels, which was something I’d been reluctant to try earlier, but His Majesty had left me with no choice. There was a lengthy, hidden path which I was aware of, but had never traveled before. We walked for miles in the dark under the earth until we came up in the neighboring region. It took several days for us to reunite with the army, and finally, to reach the Capital.”

“There was so much that I didn’t know!” exclaimed Ilya, trying to contain his emotion but failing. The faces of Alexei and the others, along with the bright banners and flowers swam around him. “Everything I thought was real… why, I did not know, but I thought… I thought you had been killed. I thought that they were going to kill you.” He clasped the boy’s hand.

“They were,” said Anatoliy. “That part was real. Trust me that Boris no longer lives. He died by my hand.”

This time Ilya wept openly and for real. “But I don’t understand. It is not just that you are a child, but especially knowing that you are the King… why surely you have duties, obligations, you are needed, and so what is a smuggler and a deserter? I am nothing.”

Alexei spoke. “Don’t you remember what you said? A king has to protect his subjects. If he’s a good king, anyway.”

“But what about my crimes?” his voice shook.

Alexei smiled. “Do you think I would bring you here and not pardon you for past offenses? We shall be friends forever, I think.”

Ilya looked up at him.

“Now, you don’t have to keep sitting on the floor. Please, stand up.”

Ilya slowly stood up from the floor. “Thank you. Your Majesty, Aleksandr, sir.”

The boy laughed. “Aleksandr was my father. You can call me Alexei.”

The new courtiers, much moved by the sight they had just seen, broke into a light applause. After the two of them had departed from the hall, they spread this tale far and wide throughout the land, and that it has come to you, my dear reader.

The End.

[batslime]

Still Hungry

Terzo x reader, you let this putrid little thing get his fix of you but he has to clean up after himself.

I don’t write but sometimes I am horny/ get cuteness aggression enough to shit in my hands and clap and paragraphs come out

Nsfw, p GN I think (< I was tired and wrong. He fuckin our pussys!!!), diet femdom? You’re not nice to him but you do love him. You make him eat his own cum. Let me know if there’s smt else I should add here

“Please, il mio tragedia, I’m still hungry” he muttered wetly against your ear. “I want to taste you until I die!”

Both of you were spent but he was parasitic in his desperation for more of you.

Terzo is typically the type of lout to want the work split evenly but had spent the past few hours humping you like a mutt who knows its about to be put down. He gets in these little fits of his where he’s insatiable and practically bursting out of his own skin overwhelmed with desire.

Your canal still sloshed with the physical aftermath of his infatuation and still he asked for more. What a pig. Take, take, take, and calling it “romance” or something. He is so adorable.

“If you are such a neglected, starving little beast” you stab at him, threatening his glassed over, anticipatory stare with your own daggers, “you had better clean up after yourself. You know how much a woman hates to clean up after a slob. How do you ever intend to keep me after making such a mess?”

Terzo immediately, wordlessly hoisted his bare hips off of your own and took most of the smeared overflow of his DNA with him, then threw himself back down on his belly lower down on the bed, planting his mouth directly back where his wimpy little cock had just intruded. He dove his face into you post-haste and extracted his earlier offerings with vigor, banishing it back to which it had once came.

After he had sufficiently sucked your earthly delights clean, he lazily let his face fall to your thighs, smearing his remaining guilt and shame further into your skin. The animal he became when lust gripped him. You’d just as soon hunt it for sport and boast its hide at the foot of your bed.

His suckling at the crease between your pubis and your leg truly did remind you of a newborn animal. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was some deaf, blind lump in search of a nipple to latch to. His enthusiasm was subsiding now, as the post-nut exhaustion finally began beating him back down to Earth, and he nuzzled into your lower body, hands wrapping around the rest of the leg he straddled as eyelids weighed down over worshipping eyes, like Moses refusing to loose sight of the burning bush. Cum still painting his aged face.

You swat a clawed hand to his head and rub his curved nose in it. He shudders in bliss and lets out a contented, whiny groan into you.

“Il mio veleno, grazie…” he just manages before fading away. “I love you more than my last breath. If my heart were to finally give out while I fuck you, it’d be worth it. La fine perfetta per me…” And then he’s gone.

You afford his limp form a smile.

“I know.”

[roguelioness]

a touch of crimson and cerulean

A @wayfarer-exchange gift for @impossible-rat-babies featuring the wonderful Pollux Sero ♥

Pairing: Pollux Sero & Aeran Kellis

1564 words, G

Summary: No matter what Pollux gets into, Aeran's there to clean him up.

The trouble with village taverns, Pollux grumbles to himself as he makes his way back to the table tucked away in a dark, grumpy corner where Aeran's waiting for him, is they're all the fucking same.

There's the group of regulars, laughing raucously at a ribald joke as the oldest among them deals out cards. He'd tried joining in, only to be met with sneers and blank stares. A wise decision on their part, really. He'd have soon parted them from their crowns, and the last thing he and Aeran need is to be run out of yet another village.

Shame, though. He could’ve used a bit more coin in his purse.

The drunken lump of a bard by the fireplace croons about something or the other, his words so slurred they're a mishmash of unintelligible sounds. The air is thick with the scent of stale ale, moldy wood, and the faintest traces of vomit and piss.

Charming, it is not.

Deftly stepping aside to avoid two folks belligerently shoving at each other, his progress comes to an abrupt halt as someone rams into his back. Pollux snarls as ale sloshes out of the tankards he's holding and lands all over him. For fucks sake, he'd just laundered his tunic two nights ago!

"Watch where you're going, shrimp," a surly voice spits at him, the syllables so thick he can feel them on his back. 

He stiffens. Carefully and meticulously turning on a heel, he raises his head to glare at the leering lout. "The fuck you just say?" His lips curl up into a snarl.

The drunkard gives him a dismissive once over, scoffing as he does so. "You heard me, shrimp." Grinning, he leans in close to Pollux's face. "What're ya gonna do about it?" He lifts a broad hand and pokes a thick finger into Pollux's shoulder for emphasis. “Shrimp.”

Fuck it. There’s probably going to be no work in this shithole of a place anyway. He folds his fingers into a fist, one at a time – thumb out, just as Sero taught him –and plants his form solidly on the ground, winds his fist up, and–

THWACK!

The lout screams and staggers back, clutching his face. When his hand falls away, Pollux is pleased to find the man’s eye swollen and ringed in black. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that, you fucking asshole,” he snarls.

“Yeah?” he taunts. From behind him, he can hear Aeran’s voice calling his name, but adrenaline’s coursing through his veins, and he’s been itching for a fight for days now. He can’t stop now.

The drunk charges at him, all ungainly, flailing limbs, and it’s laughably easy for Pollux to step out of the way and watch as his momentum sends him crashing into the card-players table, tipping it over and sending the cards scattering about the room. 

A chorus of indignant voices rises to a crescendo before the nameless lout is sent sprawling to the ground. The attention of the table’s occupants now turns to him, each face wearing narrowed eyes and snarling mouths. “It was his fault,” the drunk wheezes as he climbs inelegantly to his feet. “He’s the one who pushed me!”

“Can’t all be as graceful as me,” Pollux smirks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “no reason to blame me for those logs-for-legs.”

The drunk roars with the kind of anger inebriation fuels, and rushes towards him once more. 

He gets ready to duck out of the way again, only this time someone shoves him, and instead of turning away he’s sent straight into the path of the lout’s raised fist–

Crunch.

There’s a raging pain in his nose, his sinuses fill with the scent of iron, and blood drips into his mouth. Pollux takes careful stock of his teeth with his tongue, mildly relieved to find them all where they should be. Swiping at the stream of blood trailing from his nose, he growls at the sight of crimson on the back of his hand before wiping it off on his now-ruined tunic. Cracking his neck from side to side, he offers the wary-looking drunk a too-wide, blood-tinged smile. The lout holds his hands up and takes a step back. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see the other occupants of the tavern start to close in on him, and he starts to bounce on the balls of his feet, readying himself for a brawl. It's been a while since he had a good ol' tavern fight, and his smile grows wider, lending him an unhinged, deranged look that has everyone moving away from him.

A warm, steady grip on his shoulder stops him from his planned attack. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Fuck no–”

“Pollux.” Aeran’s sigh has him glancing at the other man. “It’ll get messier if we stay. Come on.”

“He fucking broke my nose!”

Aeran sighs again, more exasperated this time. “And you gave him a black eye. So let’s go.” To the rest of the room, he says in a louder, more placating tone, “We’re leaving.” His hand is a manacle around his wrist, and he starts to drag Pollux away. The drunkard relaxes, leers, and makes the mistake of opening his mouth. “That’s right, run away like a rat, that’s what you folks are good at ain’t it?”

Big fucking mistake.

Pollux doesn’t roar, or snarl, or make any other sound. He simply breaks free of Aeran’s hold, sprints across the limited space, and rams a white-knuckled fist into the lout’s solar plexus. The drunk man groans a loud, wheezing noise, doubles over, and proceeds to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

The tavern falls silent.

Distinctly aware of everyone’s eyes on him, he stretches his jaw, smoothens out his tunic, gives the tavern owner a quick, jerky head nod, and walks out the door. The night sky is so thick with clouds he can make out neither star nor moon.

And he’s left his pack with his tinderbox inside.

Fuck.

A moment later, however, Aeran stumbles out holding both their packs, a very put-upon expression creasing his brow. “Did you really have to do that,” he complains. “Now we don’t have a place to sleep.”

“No big deal,” Pollux shrugs. “Bound to be a stray barn ‘round here. Besides, he started it.”

There’s a brief silence as they walk side-by-side down the dirt path. “I guess he did,” Aeran concedes. “How’s your nose?”

“Broken.”

They make their way to a ramshackle hut - an abandoned shepherd's cottage from the looks of it. The thatched roof is sagging, and missing in places, but the walls look sturdy enough to keep out the worst of the elements. It smells of sheep, and dung, but it’s dry and surprisingly cleaner than he’d expected. Even though the door’s hanging off one hinge, it’s still functional, and soon they’ve spread out their bedrolls onto the dusty floor, a small fire in the tiny hearth supplying the space with a warm orange glow. 

“Alright, sit,” Aeran’s face is fondly exasperated as he guides Pollux to sit by the fire. He wets a piece of cotton with water from his waterskin, and carefully, slowly starts to clean away the blood. 

Pollux is distinctly aware of each of Aeran’s fingers on his chin, of the way his index finger presses into his skin a fraction harder than the others. The warmth of Aeran’s skin seeps into his own, and fuels that glow within his chest, making him struggle to keep his breathing even. This close, he can see the flames from the hearth reflected in those azure blue eyes, and he can see the way the scar across Aeran’s eye is ever-so-slightly puckered around the edge. A stray curl falls across Aeran’s forehead, and without thinking, Pollux reaches up and tucks it behind his ear.

“Thanks,” Aeran gives him a lopsided smile. It knocks the air out of his lungs.

It takes a moment before he can reply. “Uh-huh.”

Aeran continues to dab away at his face. For someone with such strong hands (and Pollux knows well how strong they are) he’s so gentle, so cautious, treating his face as though it – as though he – were priceless. It sets something fluttering within his ribs, like a bird spreading out wings, testing them before attempting to soar. Pollux finds himself staring at the planes of Aeran’s face, at the way his nose is scrunched up in concentration, at the furrowed intensity on his brow. 

It’s a face he knows well, yet he discovers something new each time they’re this close.

“Well,” at last Aeran sets aside the cloth and settles onto his haunches. “Good news – that nose isn’t broken after all.”

“You sure?”

“It’s swollen, you have a black eye, and it’s going to hurt like hell the next few days, but no, it’s not broken.” 

Pollux touches his nose, hissing in pain when he encounters the tender flesh there. He can’t tell if there’s been any displacement or not – but he’ll take Aeran’s word for it. “That’s a relief.”

Aeran gives him smaller, more crooked smile. It makes him look all the more roguish. “I’m glad. I like your nose.”

He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react. Dropping his gaze to his lap, he clears his throat. “Yeah, me too.”

[stories-from-the-shaded-moon]

Whumptober Day27(💀)

(Scars)

I’m not too good at writing for fandoms other than LU BUT TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THAT IM TRYING😭😭😭

He sliced another lout with the Stygian Blade. He was still in Tartarus and yet, he could feel that his life was running low. He needed more food or a centaur’s heart. He just needed something. Even a boon would be great.

He slashed the last numbskull and looked at the options that the door provided.

One the right, a wine glass filled to the brim with the grape drink. On the left, a heart with red lines on it. A boon from Dionysus or a Centaur’s Heart…

Zagreus weighed his options. On one hand, he could use Dionysus’s hangover effect. On the other hand, he was in dire need of health and he hadn’t even made it to the fury’s chamber. If it was Alecto he would face, he’d surely be sent home quicker than in a long time.

Zagreus bowed to the glowing overfilled wine glass and made a beeline for the Centaur’s Hearted door.

Nothing was in there, but it was cold. Zagreus smiled. He knew what was happening here.

“Death approaches.” Zagreus said and his…friend appeared.

“I sensed your presence here,” Thanatos said, his voice full of sarcasm and annoyance. “You look like you could use a hand.”

Zagreus wanted to say something, but they decided to spawn now.

Zagreus usually won these challenges with Thanatos, but he was sluggish today. He lost by almost ten.

When it had all died down, no centaur’s heart was given to him. He plopped on the floor, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips.

He thought that Thanatos was gone already. Usually leaves after giving him something or mocking his loss. It was a surprise when Thanatos kneeled in front of him.

“How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in some time,” the God of Death asked. Zagreus shook his head.

“Very shitty this time around,” Zagreus groaned. Thanatos put a hand on his back and chuckled.

“Your top isn’t helping you one bit.” Thanatos made work of the last scraps of his upper clothing. Thanatos stared at his torso, his eyebrows raised. Zagreus laughed.

“Like what you see?”

“Absolutely not,” Thanatos’s voice was unforgiving. “What happened? These weren’t there before!”

Zagreus looked down at himself and his heart dropped. He forgot how many scars he had gained from his attempts. Some were small, some were big, some were lashes from the whips that the furies used. Those lash scars are Thanatos’s main focus.

“I…” Zagreus met Thanatos’s eyes again. His eyes were never readable. So why did Zagreus see so much hurt in those pale yellow eyes? Zagreus’s words were caught in his throat. He looked away. “You’ll be caught soon if you stay.”

“Then let them catch me.”

Zagreus felt a lump catch in his throat. “No! I-“ Zagreus was forced to look at Thanatos when Thanatos grabbed his chin.

“If you brush me off like that again, that’s what will happen eventually. Pray tell, what happened?”

“You know about all of this! Haven’t I told you enough? You usually draw conclusions, do it now.” Zagreus tried to turn his head again, but Thanatos steeled it in place. Zagreus gulped and looked everywhere but at Thanatos.

“I didn’t do that because you always tell me not to.” Zagreus could hear the edge in Thanatos’s voice. “But since you want me to now. Those look like lashes. The only ones that I know with whips are the furies. Now, this could be the doing of all of them, two of them, or one. Will you tell me that much?”

Zagreus turned his eyes away and slightly shook his head. “Then they will all be seeing me.” Thanatos let go of Zagreus’s chin and stood on his feet. “Goodbye, Zagreus. I hope Patroclus is as gracious as usual to replenish your defiance.”

Zagreus had never told Thanatos about Death Defiance…

“Wait-“ Thanatos had already disappeared in the green haze. He wanted to ask how he knew of Death Defiance, but part of him had a feeling that he already knew the answer to that question.

Zagreus rubbed his torso and felt the ridges of the scars on his body. He felt a sinking feeling in his body.

He was disappointed in himself. All Than wanted to do was help…

Zagreus stood, a weight seemingly placed on his shoulders. He looked towards the door. There was a pomegranate, a Pom of Power, and a bag with a skull on it, Charon’s shop.

He would see a fury soon. If it was Alecto, he’d be done for.

Maybe if he went to Charon’s shop, he could find food or a centaur’s heart? Zagreus thought for around ten minutes, stumbling and swaying. Part of him doubted that he’d make it to the next door, but he did.

He cursed at himself for going to that door. He should’ve just went to Than…that probably would’ve meant that he had to kill himself…

He didn’t want to see Hypnos’s face if that happened.

He bought what he could from Charon, the weight of the conversation with Thanatos still weighing heavy on his thoughts. He found himself huffing at least five times in a single minute.

Then, he stared at the door. This door would open to one of the Furies’ chamber. He hoped it was Tisiphone. She was easiest to fight and it meant that he wouldn’t have to hurt Meg right after hurting Than.

Than…

Zagreus cursed at himself again and pushed open the door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” At the other side of the door, stood Alecto.

-

When he opened his eyes, he was lying in blood. The lights were the same as they always were. Hypnos cleared his throat and kept doing his job.

None of it mattered. In the end, all of this scenery was just a kick in the balls to him. He lost. He died. He failed.

He was home.

[lotusprincessblog]

The Lotus Princess and the Monkie Kid

This is a OcXCanon Fanfic and this is fluff/drama romance!

The faint smell of lotus was hanging in the air as the wind would carry that smell. A celestial ascended from the celestial heavens to the mortal realm.

Landing gently on the ground, as her blackish brown hair blew along with the wind, a smile crept along her soft face as she stretched out her arms, the sashes round her blew in the wind along with the lotus pattern skirt she wore.

“I wonder if that boy is here from the other day, maybe I’ll work up the courage to talk to him!” She grips her fists tightly in confidence before blushing softly.

She would hear grunting noises and the sound of things smashing against eachother like wood, she follows the noises and eventually found the boy she was looking for.

The boy in question was MK, the monkey king’s Successor/Apprentice. Watched from behind some bushes as he was training sweat dripping from his workout body, her blushing face grew harder as she felt a lump inside her throat. She wanted to get a closer look at him before tripping over a rock and falling out from the bushes and went sliding down the rocky landslide that she was up on and went face forward down the small mountain.

“What-“ Mk got startled before turning to see the girl now covered in dirt and groaning in pain as she slowly rose up her face muddy and dirty, MK quickly hurried over to the girl seeing if she needed help, he knelt down “hey, are you okay?” He asked the look of concern on his face. He could smell the faint aroma of lotuses wondering where the smell was coming he looked down to see it was coming from the girl.

“Hey are you…okay?” He gently nudged her before placing arm around to help her up. “Nrghh…” the lotus princess groaned in pain before raising up her head, her vision blurry before it came too, she saw the boy she was looking at from afar but now right in front of her. “Am I…am I dead?” She asked, MK raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Nervously “Hah I hope not!” He helped her up and dusted off her dirty attire.

“You took a nasty slide down that hill, and also you look pretty bruises I’m guessing you’re not so light on you’re feet.” He teased smiling widely. In reply her face blushed harder as he made that remark. “I-I’m not clumsy, just not quick on my feet!” She frowned angrily.

“And for you’re information, I-“

She stepped forward before feeling a crack as she broke her ankle, “ARGH!” She winced in pain before she could fall Mk caught her “easy now, don’t wanna rush yourself, I’ll find a first aide and I’ll bandage you’re ankle real quick.” He lead her somewhere to sit down, sitting her down on a bench he went to go find a first aide kid that pigsy had packed him in his bag.

The lotus princess waited patiently a hard heavy blush would be seen on her face as she couldn’t help but be flustered being so close to the boy she was admiring. “Was this happening? Or was it a stupid dream…?” She smacked herself across the face until yelping in pain”Okay, definitely not a dream!”

Later Mk came back and helped bandage her ankle, he offered her something to eat to help ease the pain, he gave her a limited edition Monkey Kind ice cream cup. He had one too.

“I’m Mk and you are?” He asked wanting to know her name, the lotus princess blushed before speaking “My…My name is Lian Mei.” She introduced “just call me Mei or Lian please.” She spoke shyly.

“You’re attire is very similar to the lout Prince’s and you’re hair with those lotus accessories too, do you know him.” He asked curiously. “Oh yeah! Erm he’s…” she paused “he’s just a good friend.”

“WHOA that’s so cool!” Mk said in amazement. “Hehe yeah.” She smiled a little. “I like you’re perfume.” He commented. “Ooh thank you, it’s just lotuses nothing special.” She answered smiling nervously. “Thank you for helping me back there-“

Mk blinked at her before smiling shyly “eh it’s no problem also what we’re doing in the bushes anyways?” Lian Mei paused as she blushed even more, should she tell him that she was spying on him or just think of a lie. “I-I was…watching you train!” She said honestly. Mk looked a little worried but smiled none the less “that’s Erm okay…though weird.”

“I’m sorry..” she looked away “no it’s fine! Just odd I’m sorry if I offended.

The two looked at eachother before releasing they were both blushing.

“AHHH IM SORRY!!” Mk shouted out of embarrassment

“NO IM SORRY-“ Lian Mei shouted too.

[beansiewritesstuff]

Zagreus vs The Mortal Coil

Lmao okay so let me explain! So maybe five or so months ago I got really into the game Hades, and I did that thing I do where I immediately create like five thousand OCs and a new plotline for it because I love it so much. This is an idea that spawned from my thoughts on what shenanigans might find Zagreus once he starts exploring more of the surface in the time he has there. I also wanted to explore how he might interact with mortals, and what he thinks of them considering he’s only got what others tell him to go on. I decided a baby would be an interesting dynamic for him, and an opportunity for him to grow further beyond what the events of the game allow. Still debating whether to write the baby as a reader insert or a character of my own? Also I wanted to test out writing using 1st person so consider this an experiment. Next part will be from Zag’s PoV again, but I think I’ll write from the human’s PoV once I age them up a little more.

So with all that said, I just wanted to go ahead and tag @heckpuppyy because we’ve been talking recently and I like you. This isn’t quite the Aconite piece I have planned for you, but it is Hades so I hoped that you would still enjoy it! Happy reading everybody!

---------------------------------------

Suppose this whole situation may be entirely my fault.

It’d been a good while since I last died on an attempt. Long enough that I started to get bored. Making it to the surface had become commonplace for me, and so I began exploring for the brief time I’m able to exist up there. I’d just pick a direction and walk. Which is how I stumbled into this. Perhaps father was right when he said my casual curiosity would get the better of me someday. I always sort of agreed with him; though I never expected something like this. Then again, who but the Fates would?

Mortal behaviour has always been strange, at least to me. Or foreign, I guess. Talking to willing Shades and reading stories of them does little to help expand my understanding. Still, as I think most Gods are, I can’t help but to be intrigued by them. There’s almost a bizarre beauty in their existence, short though it may be. Yet there are also things about them that confuse me to bitterness. Things that strike too close to my father’s behaviour for my liking. Such as, for instance, leaving children out in the mountains to succumb to Demeter’s Winter.

I really hadn’t been walking long before I heard the cries. At first, I thought it might have been an animal in pain. Though I’d heard as many instances of that as I had human infants crying, at the time. It was very odd, this immediate tug in my chest at the noise. Mother later called it “maternal instinct”, though I’m fairly sure that term only applies to mothers. Nevertheless, that feeling was what led me to the clearing in which the squalling creature lay. For a moment, I’ll admit, I was stupefied. Why would a mortal so helpless be so far out here? I thought to myself. And where are its caretakers? Surely it didn’t transport its self all the way up here from the human village. It took a particularly loud hiccupping cry from the child to snap me out of my frozen state, and I found my legs working of their own accord to move the rest of me closer to the small lump of cloth and reddened, tear-stained cheeks. It stared back up at me when I leaned over it, its next wail caught in its throat momentarily at the sight of me. I worry for a moment that I might be scaring it, before my chest tightens in a strange emotion when it whimpers pitifully and reaches out to me. Its chubby little fingers make grabbing motions, and the muscles in my arms flex with the temptation to pick it up. A searching glance around confirmed that no other humans were around, which meant it would be up to me to guide this infant to whatever fate had been written for it.

Perhaps that was too prideful of me? After all, had I thought a bit more thoroughly, I may have reminded myself of my considerable lack of child-rearing experience. This is addition to the predicament of surface dwellers being unable to survive in the Underworld, and me being unable to live on the surface for more than an hour or so.

Alas, thanks to my haste in accepting the self-ascribed responsibility, I gave only just enough thought to this fact to move the child to a small hollow near the doors to father’s realm. It had belonged to an animal at some point, but now laid barren and slightly unkempt. I had just enough time to check it the unpleasant eight-legged surface creatures I’ve heard tell of being poisonous, and to stash my new ward away safely from the elements, before the Styx took me back home. It was only upon emerging from the Pool that it struck me the weight of my decision. A baby. A human baby. One that would have simply died had I not intervened. One that now requires me to fight my way back up to ensure it’s survival. One that will need food and shelter and attention. One that… Now belongs to me.

 “Blood and darkness!” Stygius slips slightly from my grip as it catches inside the Wretched Lout I just impaled. I readjust my hold and heave it out of the sickly yellow flesh, waving it slightly to flick some of the congealing black blood from it. I have no time to stop this run. I’ve boxed myself into such a situation I barely had time to check in with everybody before leaving. I neglected to share my secret just yet, both for a loss as to how exactly to do so, as well as the worry that they would try to talk me out of it. Forgetting this whole thing seems the logical thing to do, and part of me wishes I would. And yet there is another part, small but overwhelming, that screams You must hurry. You must return to it. You must protect it! And it would seem to be the part that’s winning.

The sound of a Boon echoes through the small chamber, though when I look to it, it’s one I’ve never seen before. A deeper blue than from Poseidon, with some kind of feather symbol. When I reach out to it, the sound of a baby’s laughter reverberates through my entire body it seems. “In the name of Hades, uhh… Hello?” The glowing orb expands and bursts in a cloud of feathers to reveal the visage of a beautiful woman. She dons the same colour of chiton as her blessing, with rich green and gold patterning. Her green eyes remind me of mother and Demeter. Mother… “Lady Hera. It’s… An honour.” The stoic looking woman extends her hand without speaking, three blue feathers appearing in front of me. These are different from the regular gifts I receive. It weighs on my mind that my decision will factor heavily into my care for the infant. Hera is the Goddess of childbirth and motherhood, now may be my opportunity to get the best advice possible. It does occur to me that she doesn’t seem the most talkative. But I don’t have much choice, I need to get the most out of this encounter, considering how out of my element caring for another being is. “Lady Hera, I apologise for my boldness, but I must beseech your assistance in the matter of- “

“I sense your predicament, young Prince. I ask you not request more of me than I volunteer, though I can say I am here to help. For now, choose a gift to help you with your ward, and be on your way.” Seems that would be our conversation over. I straighten my stance and properly look over the feathers, now adorned with golden etching in the shape of familiar yet foreign words. “Mother’s Intuition” “Fruits of Labor” “Calming Touch” All seem useful, but if Hera is truly planning to stick around to help me, I suppose my decision now doesn’t hold as much weight as my initial assumption. “Calming Touch” seems it would be the most useful to me as of now. As my fingers brush the barbs of the feather, the “eye” blinks at me, and the other two disappear in small clouds of bubbles. More childlike laughter sounds from them as they pop, and that feeling is back in my chest as I clutch the feather to my chest. The illusion of Hera nods her approval before it too dissipates in a bright flash that has me blinking away the spots in my vision as I stumble toward the next door. I fasten the feather to my tunic and continue on.

 Tartarus passes in a whirlwind, my haste extending to Stygius, as if the infernal blade can sense the situation. Soon the river Phlegethon bubbles and hisses around me, the sulfur stinging my eyes. I leap over a steaming break in the land and carry the momentum through another Slamdancer. More Bloodless spawn behind me and I can only muster a sigh in response. Seems this repetition is starting to wear on my mind. Or perhaps it’s my impatience. Whatever it is, it continues to plague my mind with chilling images of the little creature I have stashed away, the hovel barely big enough to fit it. The idea of what might happen should I delay spurs me forward, not even paying attention to the Boon I accept. The orange-y glow makes me think Hermes, until a deep, rough voice booms above me. Acting on impulse I flinch back and bring Stygius in front of me. The man peering down at me with one eye under his brow scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. Feeling only a little silly, I clear my throat and lower the blade. “Apologies, Lord. I’m distracted by the heat of this place; I meant no offense.” This seems enough for the God and the jaded look to his eyes falls away to leave a particular type of exhaustion. He nods in understanding and lifts a large hand towards me. I notice something clenched in his scarred grip, and when his fingers uncurl to reveal parchment not unlike the House Contractor’s, with similar projects marked on it, a realization dawns on me. I take the paper, my eyes drawn to the blueprint labelled “Sturdy Cottage”. It seems my fears for the infant’s safety are unnecessary, seeing as I happen to have the four diamonds needed to purchase the construct. “I think this will be of much use, Lord Hephaestus. I greatly appreciate your generous assistance.” The God seems mildly taken aback by my thanks but retrieves the ledger and diamonds with a nod at my decision. Sparks fly as Hephaestus leaves, hopefully straight for the surface to begin building the cottage. It feels as if a deep shadow has been cleared from my mind, and my thoughts of the mortal are considerably lighter than before.

 Elysium provides, as always, the most resistance to my journey up. The Exalted are ferocious in their desperation for battle, charging at me with no hesitation upon spawning. I’ve already taken several hits from those blasted Flamewheels by the time I reach the next chamber with something new. At first, I fretfully believe it to be a Trial of the Gods, but upon a closer look, it seems to be a joint blessing of some kind. I recognize the wheat symbol for a Boon of Demeter, but it overlaps a peacock feather. Are the Goddesses aware of this? I hesitantly accept, and the orb expands as any other. In an icy flash filled with children’s laughter, the likenesses two Goddesses stand before me. Demeter smiles down at me, and I might be tempted to call it warm. Whereas Hera stands tall and proud as she did on our first meeting. “Zagreus, I believe you’ve already met my sister. She’s come to me with an interesting proposition; one I believe you should be made privy to.” Demeter summons a true stalk of wheat, golden and shining, and allows me to take it. I twist the stalk between my fingers, watching the little barbs blur together as they spin. “Bury this where you wish. The snow and ice will melt from that place, and your child will be safe from the elements. I know not why you would waste pity on such a creature, but perhaps it will be of future use to you. Good luck, grandson.” I hold the wheat tightly to me as they leave, my heart pounding at the idea of bending the very rules Demeter herself has put in place for this one mortal infant. A very small part of my mind wonders if this is even worth it, but like all my doubts, it gets swept away at the prospect of knowing this creature will be safe. I pin the wheat next to the feather and wonder what my next gift may be as the door clunks shut behind me.

 I’ve almost made it. Just need to get past father and I can get to work. He’s not making it easy, though he never does, and it’s especially frustrating this time. I almost lose my footing on the snow as I dodge another swing. Father scoffs and begins powering up for his stupid laser move. I thank the stone stump for the umpteenth time as I crouch behind it. On the bright side, father only needs a few more hits before the Styx overwhelms him. “You seem especially antsy this attempt, boy. What mischief are you plotting? What could possibly be so important up here?”

“Far be it for me to allow you to ruin my fun, father.” I smirk as Stygius makes contact and slices a deep black gash under the Underworld Lord’s second rib. Father grunts and smacks me away with the blunt end of his spear. The throb is dull and adds no more stress to my body. This may be one of our best fights, on my end anyway. “Come now father, surely you have more important paperwork than this?” I pause to charge up another Bloodstone, distantly registering the hiss of the disturbed snow under my feet. “Watch that tongue of yours, boy. You’ll still have to deal with the consequences when you inevitably return to my House!” My cast lands a hit square on his chest as he finishes his threat, and he falls to his knee. “Until then, father.” I’m not sure if he heard me over the rush of the Styx, but my hope that he did is tinged in bitterness. Turning away, I hurry to collect my Bloodstones and cross the threshold into Greece.

 The mountain seems to be caught in a storm of some kind. The cruel winds howl and whistle past my ears, the sheets of snow all but completely ELEPHANT my vision. I hurry along the treeline, thankful the entrance hollow is facing the direction the wind is blowing. I wonder if Demeter chose this direction intentionally, or if she may have been attempting to wipe out the infant before I had the chance to truly commit to my task. I decide she isn’t that heartless, not now anyway, and kneel beside the hollow. The crying of the infant is still going strong, so I at least can be sure it’s alive. I adjust my tunic so that I can tuck the child close to my body and reach to scoop it up. As I hold it close, my eye catches on the glint of silver around its neck. A chain, specifically one of a necklace. The charm is familiar, but I can’t quite place its origin. A sphere overlapped at each side by two crescent moon shapes. Whatever it is, I’m fairly sure it has something to do with father. Why else would the infant be left so close to his realm? The mortal whimpers quietly, curling in on itself. I need to get it out of this storm. My fingers wrap around the wheat as I stand. Surely Hephaestus would have built the cottage close by, for his own convenience at the very least. I decide to move back closer to the doors, so I can at least avoid the worst of the storm. I must hurry if I’m to find the cottage before my time is up.

The trees seem to fall away off to the right, as the land dips toward a river that’s frozen over. Perhaps I can at least clear this spot for now with Demeter’s gift. The banks flatten out before rising high at the sides, shielding the small valley from the wind. If I look closely, I can see the water rushing underneath the ice layer. I’m just starting to reach for the wheat when I notice a dark shape looming from the opposite side of the river. The cottage! Well, less of a cottage and more of a large house. Praising Hephaestus, I stumble over the frozen river, eyeing the places where the ice sizzles. The hill proves easy to scale, even with the protesting infant at my breast, and the door to the building gives easily to my push, the wind whooshing through the doorway to paint the inner floor white. It’s considerably harder to fight the wind to get the door closed again, but once it is, I’m free to sit against it and bask in the slightly warmer temperature. Even my infantile ward seems more pleased with the new surroundings, though it still hiccups and whines unhappily at me. “Come now, surely a little gratitude’s been earned here?” The mortal cries in response and I can’t help the exasperated laugh that escapes me. Suppose it’s entitled to its opinion, considering the state it’s in. It spurs me to stand again, scanning the room for a place to rest the mortal until I get back. Hephaestus did quite the good job with the construct. Sturdy walls, a strong roof, and windows sealed shut with thick glass to keep out the chill. The room we’re in now is spacious, with an open doorway leading to what reminds me of the House kitchens, and an arched entrance with a step up to a section that might be a lounge? I can see other closed doors that I’ll have to explore later, but for now I move into the kitchen and readjust the infant’s swaddle so that it can lay comfortably. It watches me in what I think is curiosity, though it’s kind of hard to tell with the tears in its eyes. I need to figure out what it needs next. Food? Let’s go with food. What do humans eat? What do human babies eat? Perhaps Hera will have answers. The pull of the Styx is stronger now, and I know I don’t have much longer. I shouldn’t let it see this. I lean over the cocoon of snot and tears and cheeks. The cries quieten as two big brown eyes stare mournfully up at me. “Abahaa!” It babbles and tries to reach for me. I meet its little hand in-between us with a finger. It’s fingers barely wrap around mine. It’s an overwhelming feeling; how small this creature is. Small and helpless and fragile and mine. I carefully remove the infant’s hand and tuck it back in its wrappings so I can leave. I’m able to securely close the door behind me and take but a few steps forward before the Styx arrives. Crawling out of the river is getting easier with my new motivation.

“Don’t worry, little thing. I’ll be back soon.”

[michaelmoonsbookshop]

A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue Anon [Francis Grose] London Printed for S Hooper 1785 First Edition

Francis Grose's 'Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue' was first published in 1785, and is a dictionary of slang words. Grose was one of the first lexicographers to collect slang words from all corners of society, not just from the professional underworld of pickpockets and bandits. So while 'The Vulgar Tongue' includes many of the words found in earlier 'scoundrels'' dictionaries (such as Head's 'Canting Academy'), it also lists a whole range of mundane slang words such as sheepish (for bashful), carrots (for red hair), or sweet (for expert, dexterous, clever). He records many rude words, such as bum fodder (for toilet paper), or double jugg (for a man's bottom). And he includes many nicknames for food and drink - words for gin (an enormously popular drink at the time) include: blue ruin, cobblers punch, crank, diddle, frog's wine, heart's ease, lightening and drain. Grose and his assistant Tom Cocking took midnight walks through London, picking up slang words in slums, drinking dens and dockyards and adding them into their 'knowledge-box'. 'The Vulgar Tongue' was recognised throughout the 19th century as one of the most important collections of slang in the English language, and it would strongly influence later dictionaries of this kind.

entries include Betwattled — to be surprised, confounded, out of one’s senses Blind cupid — the backside Bone box — the mouth Brother of the quill — an author Cackling farts – eggs Captain queernabs — shabby ill-dressed fellow Chimping merry — exhilarated with liquor Comfortable importance — a wife Dicked in the nob — silly, crazed Dog booby — an awkward lout Duke of limbs — a tall, awkward, ill-made fellow Eternity box — a coffin Head rails — teeth Hickey — tipsy, hiccupping Irish apricots — potatoes Jolly nob — the head. “I’ll lump your jolly nob for you”: I’ll give you a knock on the head. Knowledge box — another term for the head. Kittle pitchering — to disrupt the flow of a “troublesome teller of long stories” by constantly questioning and contradicting unimportant details, especially at the start (best done in tandem with others) Knight of the trenches — a great eater Just-ass — a punning name for a justice [judge] Paw paw tricks — forbidden tricks; from the French pas pas Penny wise and pound foolish — saving in small matters, and extravagant in great Sugar stick — the virile member Tallywags / Whirligigs — testicles Whipt Syllabub — a flimsy, frothy discourse Whipster — a sharp or subtle fellow

[zecretsanta]

To: @mortellanarts From: @interabangs

@mortellanarts I love your D-Team prompt and had fun writing this post-CQD snapshot of wholesome family fun, which they all truly deserve. Happy Holidays! Note: Diana’s ex and Delta are mentioned in this, but briefly and justice has been served.

Phi stares at the ice-skating rink as people jostle past her to get out onto the ice, their laughter mingling with shrieks of delight and surprise from the crowd already moving in circles to the thrumming beat of some old disco song that Phi’s never heard, but she’s sure Sigma has.

She crosses her arms, as though that would help shield her from the crowd. Skaters of varying skill level zoom past her in multi-colored blurs. She can smell fresh popcorn, peanuts, and hot dogs from the vendor across the park, and hot cocoa from proud parents milling around outside the rink, cheering on their kids.

“I knew I should’ve asked for a rain check,” Phi mutters.

“Wouldn’t it have been a snow check instead?” she hears from behind her, and she turns around.

Sigma and Diana approach her from the parking lot, holding hands as Sigma carries three pair of skates slung over his other hand. Sigma’s wearing a black and grey-blue windbreaker with a drawstring backpack, the windbreaker colors matching Phi’s jacket, which she notes with an amused snort. Diana looks cozy in her dark red peacoat and  brown beret, though her cheeks are already flushed from the cold. Or maybe, Phi considers, she’s actually blushing. Who knows what the two of them have gotten up to on their way over here…

Phi doesn’t really want to know the answer to that.

“I’m so glad you made it!” Diana says, rushing forward to wrap Phi up in a hug.

And she just stands there, arms still crossed in front of her, frozen as she takes in the oddly familiar smell of her mother’s hair. It’s comforting and weird at the same time, and, even months after having discovered her relation to Diana, Phi still doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

“Oh! How long have you been waiting for us? Sigma, I knew we should’ve picked her up!” Diana says as she steps back, rubbing Phi’s arms as though to warm her.

“I’m fine, Diana,” Phi says, trying not to start the night off on the wrong foot while keeping her teeth from chattering. “Didn’t even take me ten minutes to get here.” Sigma and Diana had chosen to move to a townhouse just outside the city because it was cheaper and Sigma wanted to focus on school. Phi, on the other hand, already had an apartment in the city not far from the university she and Sigma were now attending. It was a little weird at first to be going to the same school as her father, whom she had to introduce to people as a “family friend,” – but then, Phi’s life had always been ‘a little weird.’

To their credit, Sigma and Diana had offered her to stay with them. They have extra space in their basement for a third tenant, and Phi knows they’d both be more than happy to have her stay with them. But Phi’s used to living alone, and she figures the ‘lovebirds’ need their space. Not to mention the awkwardness of having to see them in the mornings. They’re already so comfortable and affectionate with each other that, even though she knows them being together is how she came to exist in the first place, it still makes her want to gag a little.

So yeah, Phi’s completely, totally, 100% fine.

“Okay,” Diana says after the long, awkward pause hanging in the cold winter air. “Well, we came here to skate, right?”

“That’s true,” Sigma says, slinging the skates off his shoulder as he hands the two smaller pair to Diana. “It’s been a while for me, so if I fall on my face, don’t laugh at me too much in front of everyone, all right?”

Diana lets out a soft laugh as she takes the skates from him. Phi notices that Diana’s a lot less nervous these days, and seems more spirited and adventurous. She’d switched to a different hospital, closer to where she and Sigma live, and Phi can’t help but feel a swell of satisfaction at the memory of when she and Sigma caught Diana’s ex trying to stalk her. He’s finally behind bars now, and without having him or Phi’s brother around, it’s like a weight has been lifted off Diana’s shoulders.

On the other hand, Diana’s newfound freedom had led to Phi getting invited to do ‘family’ related outings like this - each of them with varying results. Phi shudders at the memory of their day of driving lessons with Sigma as her instructor, and Diana nearly having a heart attack in the backseat. 

“Here, let’s go get these on,” Diana says, pulling Phi’s hand out from under her arm and leading her over to a bench. “I think I got ones that will fit your size, but in case they don’t match, you can try mine on instead.”

“I didn’t know you liked to skate,” Phi says, trying to keep her voice calm as she’s nearly dragged toward the bench. She doesn’t want to snap at Diana, but it’s still a bit strange to be directed around like she’s a preschooler.

“Oh, I’m not an expert or anything. I just took a couple lessons while I was in high school, and then skated for fun until I started my residency. Then I never had any time to skate until now,” Diana explains as she gently settles down on the bench. She’s got a smaller skirt on over black leggings, and she brushes the bench with her glove and pats it, gesturing for Phi to sit down. She sighs and Diana hands her a pair of white skates with light blue lining. They actually look like the style Phi would pick out herself – but she’d almost rather be in another Game than admit that.

“Well, this is my first time, so don’t be too disappointed if I don’t turn out to be Olympic material,” Phi says as she sits down next to Diana, taking the skates and looking at them as if they’ll bite her.

“It’ll be good for you to learn how to skate,” Sigma says, taking a seat on another bench, since his frame is much too large for him to share the one Phi and Diana are occupying. “I can give you some pointers, if you’d like.”

“I bet I’ll be able to skate rings around you by the end of tonight, Grandpa,” Phi lobs back dryly, and when she looks over to catch Sigma’s eye, she can see him cracking a smile.

“Oh, you two,” Diana says, shaking her head as she removes her boots and puts on her own pair of white skates with red trim.

Phi’s bravado disappears when she stands up on her skates. Her center of balance is thrown off and, though she’ll never admit it out lout, the lack of control over her own two feet, precariously propped up on thin blades, makes her almost as nervous as being in the Decision Game.

She has half a mind to SHIFT right out of here and into another universe where she isn’t subjected to this tragedy.

“It’s okay, Phi,” Diana says, rising gracefully on her own skates as she hooks her arm under Phi’s as she stretches it out.

“I’m fine, really,” Phi starts to protest, while she lets Diana support her, “You don’t have to –”

“– What’s this?” Sigma asks, coming over toward Phi’s other side to link her free arm in his. “Are you really that embarrassed to be seen with us out in public?”

Propped up by both of her parents, Phi’s heart beating double time as she slowly start to gain control over her balance. She takes in a deep breath, lets it out, and then says, “Oh, please. It’s not like this is my first day at kindergarten, or anything.”

She doesn’t tell them about that hazy memory, of being dropped off by her foster parents. They raised her well, and she’ll always be grateful for their care toward her. But there’s something different about learning something new, and having Sigma and Diana here to show her how to do something as simple as walking on a pair of ice skates.

“How do you feel now?” Diana asks, leaning down to grab her boots along with Phi’s shoes and tucking them into Sigma’s backpack. “Better?”

Phi tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but can’t. “Actually, I’m starting to think you two invited me out here on a pretense for blackmail material.”

Sigma laughs as he takes the backpack, stuffs his shoes and slings it over his free shoulder. “Don’t worry. My phone is off and safely tucked away in my pocket. Your secret will be safe with us.”

“If you’re afraid of falling, Phi, it’s totally normal,” Diana assures her. “I can’t count how many times I slipped when I first started.”

“And she could always spin circles around me,” Sigma says with an admiring grin at Diana behind Phi’s back.

“Ugh,” Phi groans, taking a step forward and pulling her parents alongside her toward the rink. “I’d rather fall on my face than be subjected to anymore of this.”

It’s slow going through, and as she takes each step forward on her thin blades, Phi knows all too well what it must feel like for a fawn to take her first steps. Phi’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, being a grown woman having to be guided out onto the ice, but once she takes her first step onto the rink with Sigma and Diana still on either side of her, she feels – freer. Like she thinks that she actually can do this without making a total fool of herself.”

“Hey, this isn’t so – ahh!”

Her next step is too confident and her skate slips out from under her. She panics, trying to steady herself on her other foot, and her leg shakes as she struggles to regain her balance.

“Don’t worry,” Sigma says, his voice calm and encouraging, as she grips onto his and Diana’s arms. “We’ve got you.”

Phi’s vision blurs as she slowly gets both feet back under her. She blinks back her tears and says, “Thanks.”

“Keep your feet shoulder width apart,” Diana says, but not in a condescending way. “Make sure to bend your knees so they’re over the toes of your skates, and if you straighten out your chest, that’ll keep you from falling forward.”

It’s common sense, and a few months ago, Phi would’ve said something clever like, “Oh, is that all it takes not to fall over? What a concept.” But her mother’s soothing voice helps keep Phi’s fears at bay, helps stop her from overthinking things. In a way, it’s like a puzzle, and Phi’s always been good at solving those.

She draws in a deep breath, lets it all out, and changes her position the way Diana described.

When she takes her next step forward, Phi feels a lot better about it.

Two slow loops around the rink and a bruised, well, let’s just say ego later, Phi’s starting to get the hang of skating, enough to finally let Sigma and Diana know they don’t have to trail next to her taking baby steps around the rink.

Sigma tells Diana he can assist Phi if she needs it, and to skate on ahead if she wants.

“Are you sure?” Diana asks, smoothly spinning backward so she can face them, a worried look on her face. “I don’t want to just leave you two.”

“I’ll be fine,” Phi says, feeling much more confident about that now than she was twenty minutes ago. “If I fall down again, then so be it. It’s him I’m worried about,” she adds, gesturing at Sigma, “seeing as how he’s not getting any younger.”

“Hey!” Sigma says, though he’s grinning slightly, “That’s no way to talk to your elders now, is it?”

“So it’s ‘elder’ now, huh? I’m glad to see you’re finally accepting your old age,” Phi says.

“We’ll be fine,” Sigma says, looking back at Diana as she continues skating backward like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah,” Phi agrees, “You’ll probably catch up with us in a few minutes, anyway.”

Diana considers it for a few more moments, biting her lip as though she’s making an even more difficult decision than any of the ones she had been forced to make at the testing site. A bit of Phi’s unceasing anger toward her brother flares up again – but she tables it to make shooing motions at her mother. “Go have fun,” Phi says, without a trace of her usual sarcasm. “You deserve it.”

Diana contemplates that for another moment, then nods and says, “Thank you, Phi!” She spins around in a flash and skates on ahead, looking completely natural as she appears to glide over the ice.

“Maybe someday you two can come back here together,” Sigma says, continuing along next to Phi as she nearly hugs the side of the rink, trying not to fall. “Before you know it, you could both quality for the Olympics.”

“Like I said before, you shouldn’t overestimate my abilities once again, Sigma. That sounds like another warning sign of going senile,” she points out, but he shakes his head.

“That not true. You could do anything you want, if you put your mind to it. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and I’m proud of you, Phi. I always will be. I have a feeling Diana feels exactly the same way.”

Phi opens her mouth to make another retort, but she closes it. She doesn’t tear up again, but despite the cold, warmth spreads throughout her as she continues slowly making her way around the rink with her father, as they admire her mother racing ahead.

After about an hour and a half on the ice, Phi’s ready to call it a night. Her muscles ache, and she regrets not bringing gloves, which Diana had noticed and insisted on lending Phi her own. They rest on one of the larger benches after changing back into their shoes, and Sigma brings them hot cocoa from the vendor. Phi blows on it before taking a long sip, and says, “Thanks, but I should’ve got this instead.”

“Nonsense,” Sigma says, settling down on Phi’s other side so that she’s in the middle. “What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t spoil you now and then?”

“I’m not a child,” Phi says with a pout, something she’s had to keep reminding them over the past several months.

“No, you aren’t,” Diana says, taking Phi’s gloved hand in hers and squeezing it. “But you’re still ours.”

And, for once, as Phi sips her cocoa with her parents as they watch the ice rink, she doesn’t argue with that.

[fullmetalscullyy]

Hey! Idk if you're taking requests atm but if you are, is there any way you'd be able to do a royai fic where Riza finds Roy unconscious and bloody? I'm in need of some hurt/comfort Royai huhu 💞

ask and ye shall receive oh how i love hurt/comfort royai so thank you for the ask anon  💞 💞 💞

also apologies for the lack of world building but tbh i just wanted some hurt/comfort royai

Riza entered the store the Colonel had gone on ahead to search. The crime scene tape fluttered as she lifted it over her head. The place was eerily silent, so she placed one hand on the gun at her hip as a precaution.

“Sir?” she called into the store, but there was no answer. Brow furrowing, she continued her search at a slower pace, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Something wasn’t right here, but she didn’t know what. He should be in the store. Why wasn’t he answering her?

Instinctively she ducked when a gunshot rang out. Her heart stopped for a second, stomach dropping. Another rang out, the bullet hitting the wood of the empty display case she was hiding behind. Riza dove behind another, rolling to a stop at the back of the room. Her spine ramrod straight and pressed against the wood, she strained her ears to listen for any movements.

However, she was stopped short when she saw a black mop of hair on the floor, the face turned away from her.

Her stomach dropped even further, right past her toes.

Another shot rang out and she rolled into the back room where her superior officer was lying prone, a large red puddle of blood underneath him as it oozed out of his leg.

“Sir?!” she whispered frantically, shaking his shoulder for a response. There was none. “Shit.” She checked his pulse. It was there, but it was weak. Rolling him over carefully she made sure not to jostle his injured leg too much, she kept an eye out for any other injuries. Not seeing anything, she let out a little sigh of relief. However, it was short lived as another shot rang out.

“Havoc!” she hissed into the earpiece.

“We’re already on our way!” he shouted in her ear. “We heard the shots.”

“The Colonel is down,” she swallowed.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Okay, we’ll take care of the shooters. Stay inside! Keep under cover. We’ll be in as soon as we can.”

“Thank you, Havoc,” she breathed in relief. The adrenaline from earlier was beginning to wear off and her limbs were shaking as she placed her hands over the Colonel’s wound, putting pressure on it. Despite the continued gunfire outside she felt slightly better that the team was behind her and on their way.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” she asked him, one hand running over his body to try and discern if there were any other wounds she needed to take care of. The back room of the store was shielded from the door to outside, so she felt relatively safe enough to check him over. Her senses were still on high alert as the team engaged with whoever was trying to kill them and she heard it in her ear. Havoc’s voice came through as he took charge, barking orders to the rest of them.

“Sir!” she called slightly louder after no response.

He groaned and Riza had never heard a better sound.

“Sir? Are you with me?” she asked, grabbing a jacket she’d found hanging on a hook in the back room and tying it around his leg. “Sir?”

“Hawk…” he groaned.

“It’s me, sir,” she replied, letting out another sigh of relief when she received a response. It wasn’t entirely coherent, but it was something and she would take what she could get right now.

“My leg –”

“I know, sir. I know. I’m working on it right now.” Even to Riza, her voice was strained. Havoc was still shouting in her ear and the gunshots were still ringing outside. Her concern was torn between her teammates and her command officer who was bleeding out in front of her. How long had he been down? How long had he been unconscious? He’d left for lunch and said he’d meet them at the store after it for the investigation. Hawkeye had gone ahead of the rest of them to scope it out beforehand, but Mustang was already here. Bile rose in her throat at the thought that he’d been here for a while.

So, it was up to her to help him. The rest were stuck outside fighting off whoever had hurt Mustang so she had a job to do in here.

“Hawkeye,” he rasped, his bleary eyes focussing long enough on her face. She cringed involuntarily as a shot went off, a lout louder than before. It pinged off the floor outside the door they were in.

“Sorry, sir,” she muttered as she grasped his shoulders, moving him out of view from the door. He cried out in pain and Riza bit her lip, continuing to move him because if she didn’t, they could shoot him in the head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered after slowly lowering his shoulders. “I had to move you out the way of the door.”

He was panting, face screwed up in pain. “It’s… It’s okay,” he choked out, eyes widening as no doubt a wave of pain crashed over him. “What’s… the situation?”

“The team are outside. No idea how many assailants. They shot at me after I was inside.”

“It was a trap,” he murmured before gritting his teeth in pain. “They shot my leg then knocked me unconscious.”

“I should have been here…”

“It’s all right,” he assured her, his hand flailing above his torso as it tried to grasp onto her. She took her hand gently in his but was surprised by the amount of force he applied to his grip. She drew her own strength from it, composing herself and calming her racing heart. He’s conscious and able to talk. Focus on that. Keep him talking. “There was no way of knowing. Let’s focus on the now.”

“Okay. Can you stand?”

“Maybe.” She managed to get him into a sitting position but as soon as Mustang tried to stand, he bit his lip harshly and whined in pain. When she lowered him back down to the floor he was panting again.

“Let’s not do that again,” Riza stated.

“No, I can do it –”

“Sir, no.”

“Hawkeye, we need to –”

“Roy.” That stopped his struggling. She rarely used his first name and she used the element of surprise to quieten him. “We’re not going anywhere. We’ll wait for the rest of them.”

“I won’t sit here while they risk their lives –” He gasped in pain again and Riza grabbed his shoulders, moving in front of him, wary of his injured leg, so that she was in his field of view.

“Roy, please,” she begged him, gaze searching and pleading. His eyes looked right back at her, no doubt picking up on her strained and desperate mood.

“All right,” he agreed, sagging back against the wall. “We’ll wait.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“What’s the report?” he asked, wincing.

“Havoc states there was five shooters. They’ve taken down two. Working on the other three but they can’t get in until they’re all gone. Havoc tried to break through but was pushed back instantly.”

“Tell him not to be stupid,” Mustang ordered, but his voice was growing weaker. It didn’t hold the same amount of authority as it normally did. He was fading and the realisation almost sent Riza into a panic.

“I will. Jut rest, please. They’re working on it.”

“All right,” he agreed, his words slightly slurred. Leaning his head back, Mustang let it rest against the wall again, his eyes closing as the fight left him. Riza moved to his side, leaning her body against his. Together, they waited until they could be freed from the store.

“Riza?” he mumbled. She could feel the vibration of his words though his shoulder. She’d leant her head against it after grasping his hand tightly in hers. Both hands now rested on his uninjured leg between them.

“Yes?”

“I never asked, are you all right?” he continued to mumble, his eyes closed. “You said they… shot at you.”

Riza straightened abruptly, searching his face but it was slack, eyes closed. “I’m fine, Roy.”

“Good. Good…”

“Don’t worry about me. Just rest,” she whispered, brushing his hair off his face. “I’ve got you.” He nodded and mumbled something incoherent. “I’ll keep watch, Roy. You rest.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, not wanting to let him go just yet, but he was struggling. The wound was tied up and had pressure on it but with the limited supplies there was nothing she could do but listen to Havoc’s reassurances and wait.

“Wake me up when it’s my turn to watch,” he muttered, head lolling to the side.

Riza smiled, tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. “I will, Roy,” she promised. Riza lifted his head, rolling it towards her side and placing it on her shoulder so he was more comfortable. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing his body close so he could lean against her. Closing her eyes, she blocked out the gunfire and a tear escaped as she lay her head against the top of his. “I’ll wake you up. But rest now.”

“Perfect… So glad you’re here…” he trailed off, his head going slack against her shoulder. Another tear escaped her as he fell unconscious. Then, she prayed. She prayed for the team’s quick work so they could get him out of here. He wouldn’t die. Riza refused to believe that. She couldn’t. But they needed to be quick. They needed to work quicker. Time was running out, no matter how much Riza didn’t want to admit it.

Turning her head, she kissed the top of his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m right here,” she whispered.

Havoc burst into the room and shouted behind him, beckoning someone towards them. He turned, face grim, when he saw the state of them both. Mustang, bleeding and unconscious, and Hawkeye, with tears on her cheeks, cradling his body protectively against hers as she waited for the rest of them.

The paramedics took Roy away from her, but Riza was right behind him, like always.

Mustang smiled to himself in his hospital bed when Havoc revealed how attentive she’d been and how she’d never left his side. And when she’d entered the room, eyes wide and desperate to see he was okay, Roy gave her the biggest smile, so happy he got to live another day to see Riza Hawkeye look at him like he was her whole world. Roy could sympathise because that’s how he felt about her too.

[ameryth74]

Louis **** Title Generator Tool

** **** it 

LOL.... go!

Two letter words:

There are 107 acceptable 2-letter words listed in the Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, 6th Edition and the Official Tournament and Club Word List:

AA, AB, AD, AE, AG, AH, AI, AL, AM, AN, AR, AS, AT, AW, AX, AY, BA, BE, BI, BO, BY, DA, DE, DO, ED, EF, EH, EL, EM, EN, ER, ES, ET, EW, EX, FA, FE, GI, GO, HA, HE, HI, HO, ID, IF, IN, IS, IT, JO, JU, JY, JZ, KA, KI, KO, LA, LI, LO, MA, ME, MI, MM, MO, MU, MY, NA, NE, NO, NU, OD, OE, OF, OH, OI, OK, OM, ON, OP, OR, OS, OW, OX, PA, PE, PI, PO, QI, RE, SH, SI, SO, TA, TE, TI, TO, UH, UM, UN, UP, US, UT, WE, WO, XI, XU, YA, YE, YO, ZA

Two letter contractions: I’m, I’d

Four letter verbs:

abet, abut, abye/aby, ache, alit, ally, ante, arch, aver, avow (10).

baby,  bach, back, bade, baff, bail, bait, bake, bald, bale, balk, ball, band, bang, bank, bant, barb, bard, bare, barf, bark, base, bash, bask, bate, bath, bauk, bawl, bead, beam, bean, bear,    beat, beck, bede, beef, been, beep, bell, belt, bend, bent, bere, best, bias, bide(archaic usage), biff, bike, bilk, bill, bind, bird, birl, birr, bite, bitt, blab, blat, blaw, bled, blet, blew, blip, blob, blot, blow, blub, blue, blur, boak, boat, bode, body, boff(vulgar usage), boil, boke, bomb, bond, bone, bong, bonk, boob, book, boom, boot, bore, born, boss, boun, bowl, brad, brag, bray, bred, brew, brim, buck, buff, bulk, bull, bump, bung, bunk, bunt, buoy, burl, burn, burp, burr, bury, bush, busk, buss, bust, busy, butt, buzz (117).

ca-ca, cage, cake, calk, call, calm, came, camp, cane, cant, card, care, carp, cart, case, cash, cast, cave, cede, cere, chap, char, chat, chaw, chid, chin, chip, chop, chow, chug, chum, cite, clad, clam, clap, claw, clay, clew, clip, clog, clop, clot, cloy, club, clue, coal, coat, coax, cock, code, coif, coil, coin, coke, comb, come, comp, cone, conk, conn, cook, cool, coop, cope, copy, cord, core, cork, corn, cosh, cost, coup, cove, cowl, crab, cram, crap, crew, crib, crop, crow, cube, cuff, cull, curb, curd, cure, curl, curr, cuss (90).

dado, daff, damn, damp, dang, dare, dark, darn, dart, dash, date, daub, dawn, daze, deal, deck, deed, deem, defy, deke, dele, demo, dent, deny, dial, dice, died, diet, dike, dine, ding, ding, dint, dirk, disc, dish, disk, diss, dive, dock, doff, dole, dome, done, doom, dope, dose, doss, dote, dove, down, doze, drab, drag, draw, dray, dree, drew, drip, drop, drub, drug, drum, duck, duel, duet, dull, dumb, dump, dung, dunk, dupe, dusk, dust, dyke (75).

earn, ease, echo, eddy, edge, edit, emit, envy, espy, etch, even, exit (12).

face, fade, fail, fake, fall, fame, fard, fare, farm, fart, fash, fast, fate, fawn, faze, fear, feed, feel, fell, felt, fend, fess, fete, feud, file, fill, film, find, fine, fink, fire, firm, fish, fist, fizz, flag, flap, flat, flaw, flay, fled, flee, flew, flex, flip, flit, flog, flop, flow, flub, flux, foal, foam, foil, foin, fold, fond, fool, foot, ford, fork, form, foul, fowl, frag, frap, fray, free, fret, frig, frit, fuel, full, fume, fund, funk, furl, fuse, fuss, futz, fuze, fuzz (82).

gaff, gage, gain, gait, gall, game, gang, gaol, gape, garb, gash, gasp, gast(obsolete), gate, gaum(US), gave, gawk, gawp, gaze, gear, geld, gibe, gift, gild, gill, gimp, gird, girt, give, glad(archaic), glom, glow, glue, glug, glut, gnar, gnaw, go by, go on, goad, golf, gone, gong, goof, gore, gown, grab, gray, grew, grey, grid, grin, grip, grit, grow, grub, gulf, gull, gulp, gush, gust, gybe, gyre, gyve (64).

hack, haft, hail, hale, halo, halt, hand, hang, hare, hark, harm, harp, hash, hasp, hast, hate, hath(archaic), haul, have, hawk, haze, head, heal, heap, hear, heat, heed, heel, heft, held, helm, help, hent(obsolete), herd, hewn, hide, hike, hill, hint, hire, hiss, hive, hoax, hock, hoke(slang), hold, hole, home, hone, honk, hood, hoof, hook, hoop, hoot, hope, horn, hose, host, hove, howl, huff, hulk, hull, hump, hung, hunt, hurl, hurt, hush, husk, hymn, hype, hypo (74).

idle, inch, iris, iron, isle, itch (6).

jack, jade, jail, jape, jazz, jeep, jeer, jell, jerk, jest, jibe, jilt, jink, jinx, jive, join, joke, jolt, josh, juke, jump, junk (22).

kayo, keek(Scots), keel, keen, keep, kept, kern, kick, kill, kiln, kilt, kink, kiss, kite, knap, knew, knit, knot, know (19).

lace, lack, laid, lain, lair, lake, lamb, lame, land, lard, lark, lase, lash, last, lath, laud, lave, laze, lazy, lead, leaf, leak, lean, leap, lech, leer, left, lend, lens, lent, levy, lick, lift, like, lilt, limb, lime, limn, limp, line, link, lisp, list, live, load, loaf, loan, lock, loft, loll, long, look, loom, loop, loot, lope, lord, lose, lost, loup(Scots), lour, lout, love, lube, luck, luff, luge, lull, lump, lure, lurk, lust, lute, lyse (74).

mace, made, mail, maim, make, mall, malt, mark, marl, mart, mash, mask, mass, mast, mate, maul, maze, mean, meet, meld, mell, melt, mend, meow, mesh, mess, mete, mewl, miff, milk, mill, mime, mind, mine, mint, mire, miss, mist, moan, moat, mock, moil, mold, molt, moon, moor, moot, mope, moss, move, muck, muff, mull, mump, muse, mush, muss, must, mute (59).

nail, name, near, neck, need, nest, nick, nigh, nill(obsolete), nock, nose, nosh, note, nuke, null, numb (16).

obey, ogle, oink, okay, omen, omit, ooze, open, oust, over (10).

pace, pack, page, pain, pair, pale, pall, palm, pang, pant, pare, park, part, pash(Austral), pass, pave, pawn, peak, peal, peck, peek, peel, peen, peep, peer, pelt, pend, perk, perm, pick, pike, pile, pill, pimp, pine, ping, pink, pipe, piss(vulgar), pith, pity, plan, plat, play, plod, plop, plot, plow, plug, pock, poke, pole, poll, pond, pool, pore, port, pose, post, pour, pout, pray, pree, prep, prey, prim, prod, prog, prop, puff, puke, pule, pull, pulp, pump, punt, purl, purr, push, putt (80).

quad, quip, quit, quiz (4).

race, rack, raft, rage, raid, rail, rain, rake, ramp, rang, rank, rant, rape, rase, rasp, rate, rave, raze, razz, read, ream, reap, rear, reck, redd(dialect), rede(archaic), redo, reed, reef, reek, reel, rein, rely, rend, rent, rest, re-up, rice, rick, ride, riff, rift, rile, rill, rime(archaic)/rhyme, ring, riot, rise, risk, rive, roam, roar, robe, rock, rode, roil, rolf, roll, romp, roof, rook, room, root, rope, rose, rout, rove, ruck, ruff, ruin, rule, rush, rust (73).

sack, said, sail, sale, salt, sand, sass, sate, save, sawn, scab, scam, scan, scar, scat, scud, scum, seal, seam, sear, seat, seed, seek, seel, seem, seen, seep, sell, send, sent, sewn, shag, sham, shed, shim, shin, ship, shit, shoe, shog, shoo, shop, shot, show, shun, shut, sick, side, sift, sigh, sign, silk, silt, sing, sink, sire, site, size, skew, skid, skim, skin, skip, slab, slag, slam, slap, slat, slay, sled, slew, slid, slim, slip, slit, slog, slop, slot, slow, slub, slue, slug, slum, slur, smut, snag, snap, snip, snow, snub, snug, soak, soap, soar, sock, soil, sold, sole, solo, soot, sorb, sort, soup, sour, sown, spae(scottish), spam, span, spar, spat, spay, spec, sped, spew, spin, spit, spot, spud, spur, spurn, stab, stag, star, stay, stem, step, stet, stew, stir, stop, stow, stub, stud, stun, suck, suds, suit, sulk, sung, sunk, surf, swab, swag, swam, swan(brit), swap, swat, sway, swig, swim, swob, swop(brit)/swap, swot, swum, sync (155).

tabu, tack, tail, take, talc, talk, tame, tamp, tang, tank, tape, tare, task, taut, taxi, team, tear, teem, tell, tend, tent, term, test, text, thaw, thin, thud, tick, tide, tidy, tier, tiff, tile, till, tilt, time, tine, ting, tint, tire, toil, toke, told, tole, toll, tomb, tone, tong, took, tool, toot, tope, tore, torn, toss, tote, tour, tout, tram, trap, tree, trek, trim, trip, trod, trot, trow(archaic), true, tube, tuck, tuft, tune, turf, turn, tusk, twig(Brit), twin, twit, type (79).

undo, urge (2).

vade, vail(archaic), vamp, vary, veal, veer, veil, vein, vend, vent, vest, veto, vide, view, vine, visa, vise, void, vote (19).

wade, waft, wage, wail, wait, wake, wale, walk, wall, wane, want, ward, ware(archaic), warm, warn, warp, wash, waul, wave, wawl, wean, wear, weed, ween, weep, weet, weld, well, welt, wend, went, wept, were, wert(archaic), wham, whap, whet, whid(Scottish), whip, whir, whiz, whop, wick, wile, will, wilt, wind, wine, wing, wink, wipe, wire, wise, wish, wisp, wist, wite, wive, woke, wolf, wont, wood, woof, word, wore, work, worm, worn, wove, wrap, writ(archaic) (71).

x-ray (1).

yack, yank, yard, yarn, yaup, yawn, yawp, yean, yell, yelp, yerk, yeuk, yock, yoke, yowl, yo-yo(informal), yuck (17).

zero, zest, zinc, zing, zone, zonk, zoom (7).

IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT

(yes there are 28 ITs)

[artisticvicu]

Summer Time

Noises bombarded him from every side - shouts of pain or cries of attacks, the constant crackling of fires no matter where he turned, the ring of metal against metal, the thunderous rumbles of stone walls collapsing - were drowned out by his pulse in his ears.

"There's nothing more we can do."

There was a strange heaviness to the silence and those within the room gave the speaker desperate looks. Whatever they were expecting never came to pass because despair quickly took over and they started to crumble inward.

He shook his head, adamant as he countered, "There has to be something. We can't just accept this."

"What else is there to do!" one of the old men barked. He met that old man's glare with a steady gaze. "You're a fool to believe there's anything left. We've lost, boy. Accept it."

"No," he stated, standing firm. "I'll die a fool before I roll over just because we're out of ideas." His gaze returned to the original speaker. "There has to be something we can do to delay them long enough to let us regroup and try again. Please, Lord Nero. There has to be something."

A chunk of the floor above came down around him and his shoulder collided painfully with the stone wall as he dodged the flaming debris. Cursing, he kicked at a burning beam blocking his way. If he didn't free himself now, he'd be too late.

If he wasn't already.

"Father."

He brought his gaze up from the fire he was staring at, watching as the daughter of Lord Nero closed the door. Lord Nero rose from his chair and crossed to meet her. Her hands sought his as he asked, "What is it, my dear?"

"There was talk about not having a plan, of how everyone was going to die." Despite the unease in her words, her expression was hard, determined. "Is that true? Is there nothing more you can do?"

Lord Nero shook his head. "We are almost out of resources and the numerous amounts of injured and dead that have dwindled our numbers. Unless I can convince others to join our cause, we will not survive another attempt."

"What if I could get you the time?"

The beam finally gave and he stumbled over loose stone into the once again clear hallway. He took off at a run, his throat tight.

He should have fought it. He should have figured out a different plan. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair!

"I don't know if this will work."

He glanced at her without turning his head, feigning interest in the celebration before them. The ballroom was packed with people and tables, the center floor that had been clear for people to dance packed with twirling bodies. There were so many colors from all of the gowns, it was like getting slapped in the face by a rainbow and then some. He wasn't sure how much longer he could refrain from doing something that would compromise their mission. "Say the word and I will take you right back to your father," he promised. He shifted forward, a smile on his face as he gave her a coy look. "But I would suggest at least giving him a chance to dance with you. He's been eyeing you all night."

She sniffed in distaste. "He should have the balls to come ask me for a dance regardless of how hot my escort is."

He laughed at that, a full, rich laugh that hadn't escaped him in a very long time. He grinned at her. "Come now, m'Lady. It is nothing if not rude to be biased like that. I am, after all, practically your brother. Saying such things would give others the wrong impression."

She sniffed again but the gleam in her eyes told him he had been successful in shifting her mood. "I still think he could do better."

He chuckled, glancing to the man - well, young man the same age as him, if he was not mistaken - they were speaking about and smiled. "It would seem he has finally gained those balls you so eloquently stated he needed to grow."

Silence settled between them as the young man approached. He watched as the young man's eyes strayed from the young woman at his side to him a few times but gave his full attention to her when he approached.

He watched them walk out onto the dance floor, a bitter taste in his mouth as loathing and disgust for that young man churned in his gut.

He bodily slammed into the door and nearly lost his footing when it gave under his weight. The room was eerily empty considering that the whole ordeal started in that room. His gaze shot around the empty space looking for any signs of the ones he was looking for as his chest heaved with every gasp, feet never slowing.

Nothing.

Fear and relief were a toxic mix in his chest.

"Abraxis, what are you doing?"

He looked down from where he sat, book in hand. Standing below him was the young man. "Reading," he stated blandly, gesturing with the book to make a point.

The young man huffed at him. "I can see that. Why are you reading up there?"

He turned his attention to the surrounding branches. "Why not?" he asked back down. Barely a week in the young man's presence and he already wanted to strangle him. How was Emrynth tolerating him?

Again, the young man huffed. "There are plenty of chairs down here."

"But I would be disrupting you and Mistress Ryn's time together."

The young man's expression became surprisingly emotionless. "Lady Ryn has retired to the castle."

Like he needed to be told. She had signaled for him to stay put as she left. "And you're not following?"

The young man looked away, clearly offended by being called out. "I was quite content with being in your company for the time being. Lady Ryn wanted her space and I'm in no hurry to deny her that."

He slipped from his branch and made his way back down to the solid earth below. His landing was a soft, solid thud on both feet but the young man wouldn't look at him. "I am not the greatest company, Your Highness. I'm sure Mistress Ryn has tol-"

"Use my name." He stopped talking, letting the young man before him continue with cheeks still pink. "When we're alone or with Lady Ryn, call me by my name."

"Your Highness," he started but the other shook his head violently.

"No. You're important to her," the young man snapped. There was a slight shift in the other's expression and the following words seemed stilted. "And if you are going to be around, it seems improper for you to remain so formal with me when you are less formal with her, especially in private settings."

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him and the indignant look that crossed the other's face was endearing. With a tight smile and a low, mocking bow, he offered, "As you wish, Prince Vanell."

There were a few castle guards in the hallway but the floor was littered with those from the castle and a faction he didn't recognize. He tried not to drown in despair as he kept running.

"Hey, Van," he drawled, dropping the book on top of the Prince's head. "You were supposed to meet us in the garden. Lady Ryn said to tell you she has grown bored waiting and went horseback riding with your little brother instead."

"Oh." Ice hit the pit of his stomach. "I hope they have fun."

Something was wrong. Setting the book down, he leaned closer to try and catch the Prince's gaze. "Hey," he softly spoke. When that didn't work, he gently pressed the back of his fingers into the other's shoulder, withdrawing the touch when he gained the Prince's full attention. "What's wrong?" At a thought, he amended, "What happened?"

Prince Vanell stared at him for a moment before looking away. "They're not expecting Father to make it to morning."

He sucked in a breath, sharp and painful, and, for a fleeting moment, he couldn't remember why he had ever thought that Prince Vanell - still a bit spoiled but happily learning - was any sort of villain. It was clear in those tear filled eyes hollowed out by despair that the Prince was nothing like the image the kingdom saw. He pulled away as a familiar fury burned through him, hiding it from the Prince's eyes. All his rage was aimed at the current man sitting on the throne impersonating a dying King in order to keep the kingdom and other regions ignorant of the truth. And it was working. No one was questioning if the King was himself or not. Not when his twin brother looked and sounded just like him.

He swallowed thickly and asking the stars for more time.

"Why don't we go gather your brother and Lady Ryn and go spend the day with your father, then," he offered around a lump in his throat.

There was a choked sob from the Prince's direction and it clenched at Abraxis's heart as tears sprung to his own eyes. He crossed back over to the Prince, placed a heavy hand on the other's shoulder, and quickly found his arms full of a sobbing Prince. He held on with all he had, begging the stars to just give them till summer, to let the King live till the spring days gave way to the summer's heat.

A skirmish cropped up in his way and he ducked around a widely swung sword.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, your Highness," he offered weakly. The Prince looked up from the book he had been reading softly out lout to the King and his little brother. The King's eyes were closed and the man's chest rose and fell as if in sleep. On the sleeping man's other side the Prince's younger brother by many years was curled into the King's side. His heart went out to both of them. "Lady Ryn was wondering if you would join her for dinner." Her stitching ring bounced off of his shoulder and he flinched, amending, "Ok, so I wanted to make sure you were going to eat dinner tonight and not waste away in a dark room."

"I don't-" the Prince started with a hint of bite, but a wheezy voice cut in.

"You are Abraxis, yes?" that wheezy voice asked.

He tried getting through without facing off with anyone but he didn't get very far before he was forced to draw his sword in order to keep his head.

His gaze went immediately to the King. The eyes blearily looking his way were the same color as the Prince's and just as vibrant even near Death's clutches. "Yes, Your Majesty," he responded with an awkward bow.

"My sons speak highly of you and the Lady Ryn," the King explained, a smile pulling weakly at the man's face. "Vanell is quite taken by you."

"Father!" Prince Vanell wailed, though his voice didn't get overly loud as he buried himself behind his book.

The King chuckled, though it caused his breathing to rattle and wheeze. "Abraxis."

He gave a cry of frustration and rage as another soldier got in his way. Already he was delayed with the last four, he didn't need to deal with more. With a vicious swipe of his sword, he took out as many in his way as he could, pressing forward.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

He broke through the fight.

"Watch over my two boys for me," the ill man croaked, voice weak at the edges as tears gathered at the corners of those tired eyes. "Help Vanell to be happy when he gains the throne."

He gave a strangled scream when more blocked his way.

His throat closed at that. Was the King insinuating what he thought he was? He hadn't even humored the idea, let alone spoken about it with the Prince. Certainly Vanell and Emrynth were as in love as they appeared.

He charged with every intent of slicing his way through.

Right?

Someone or several someones came to his aid but he didn't take the time to check. He took the opening and ran.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The roar of his pulse obscured any noise sent his way anyways.

Their laughter mingled in the air as they crashed to the grass. It was all he could do to stay awake, though, as both his gasping for air and laughter petered out. The spring winds were pleasantly warm, the sun equally so, and it made him even more drowsy than their sparring alone. A small part of him was aware that summer time was approaching, which meant that they were almost out of time.

"Hey, Abraxis?"

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes closed as he tried to hang onto the moment.

"Don't hate me, ok?"

He slammed bodily through another door, colliding with a number of bodies and hitting the ground with them.

Unfamiliar lips pressed against his for a brief moment. He opened his eyes as Vanell pulled away but he didn't let the Prince go far. With a careful but swift hand, he burying his fingers in the other's hair. "I could never hate you," he urged honestly. "But what of Ryn?"

He brought his head around as the bodies under him tried to disentangle themselves from each other.

His eyes found who he was looking for and screamed.

Vanell's face turned scarlet and the Prince pressed his face into Abraxis's shoulder to hide it. "She's been trying to get me to actually speak up for months now. We've been pretending for my Uncle's sake."

Something within him twisted. "Van, there's-"

There was a shout from the castle and Abraxis's insides went cold.

"Vanell!"

The mass of bodies gave and he was at the Prince's side as Emrynth clashed swords with the Tyrant King. His shaking hands pressed on the Prince's wound gaining a strangled cry from the Prince. "You idiot," he choked out. "You were supposed to leave the fight to us!"

Vanell coughed before managing, "Is Ryn alright?"

"Of course she is," he snapped. "She knows to block a sword with a weapon, not her body."

Vanell gave a huff of a laugh, several faint coughs chasing after it. "And my brother?"

"Safe with your Father," he assured him but the tears still came and the sob choked him. This was all his fault.

Vanell smiled weakly as he raised a bloody hand up to touch Abraxis's cheek. "I'm glad...I finally kissed you...before this."

He gave a laugh but it was hollow. "Make it through this and you can kiss me all you want."

Vanell's weak smile grew as the Prince's hand fell back to the floor and Abraxis begged the stars with all his being that Vanell would wake up after this.

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Special Delivery- Chapter 3

Mei lay listlessly upon her mattress, face still bleary with tears as she stared dully at the television screen, not really watching the rugby match still going strong. She was tired from crying, hunger and thirst gnawed her insides, her outside were sore and dirty from the scuffle earlier, and her mind ached with numb fear and despair. She’d had one chance, and it had only led to her nearly getting killed by minefield, roughed up by the pig-masked man, and summarily recaptured. And there might not be any more chances.

She heard the faint k-thump k-thump sound of a familiar peg leg outside, clacking up to the door. She immediately drew back into the corner, covering herself with the blanket. There was the clicking of a series of locks, and then a peg leg slammed the door open and Junkrat was back again. This time he was hauling a bulging burlap sack, which he threw into his makeshift kitchen before starting to empty it. To Mei’s relief, it only seemed to hold cans and containers of food, which he dutifully began stacking on his haphazard shelves.

Eying him warily, Mei remained withdrawn and silent, trying to make herself very small in her corner. But it was only a matter of time before his supplies were stacked, and he dusted off his hands and rounded upon her, placing both hands upon his bony hips. With that crooked smile, he grinned down at her as if they hadn’t been fighting for her life in the dirt just hours earlier.

“Well lookit who’s up yet again!” he said, almost mockingly friendly still. “Just in time for a tucker! Bet you’re hungry, eh love? Haven’t had anything in you since the back of that car, I wager.”

She didn’t answer, merely squinting at him. Back of what car? Perhaps he’d shoved her into the back of a car in order to get her here? She had no memory of anything after getting cornered on that side street. And she was ragingly hungry and thirsty. Not that she’d admit it to him.

“Still pissy, eh?” he grinned at her silence, snickering under his breath with clear glee. “Kinda thought a roll in the dirt might stir up an appetite. Then the whole chain fiasco. Didn’t take you for the slap and tickle sort, but I guess you like it a bit rough.”

Mei turned her head and stared at the floor, tucking her face into her knees. She definitely did not want this Junkrat going down that trail of thought. But he took no notice of her chagrin and kept on talking.

“Heh! Silent treatment! That’s tough tits for you, love, because I jabber on enough for ten people. How about some din-dins?” He paused, but received no answer. “No? Nothing? Guess I’ll just make meself a big Hog-sized plate of eggs and hash all for my lonesome, then!” The junker was already tying on an absolutely filthy grease-stained apron that read KISS THE COOK in much-faded letters, though it looked like he’d purposefully scrubbed away part of an O so it read KISS THE COCK instead. Ugh. Typical. And disgusting.

She remained curled in her corner, watching him balefully as he set up what looked to be a camp stove and pan. Her heart did seize a little when he picked up a rather large knife, but he didn’t even turn her way. She couldn’t see everything the strange man was doing, his beanpole form with his back to her blocking some of whatever he was chopping up on the counter. And throughout it all, just like he said, he talked.

“Now you and I, sweetness, we’re going to have a chat about hospitality. Because I’ll be damned but you’ve gone and pissed all over mine. But you know what, not even that mad at ya. Just scared. Weren’t you, darl? Moved too fast when you woke up, s’my fault really. Probably your head’s all fucked from how I found ya.” He continued chopping, rough enough that she saw flecks of something or other flying into the air. “So I’m gonna be the decent bloke here and let you know that bygones are just bygones! Pretty gallant for someone you just near on ganked with a chain, don’t you think? But really, don’t try to make another attempt at that because Roadie’s in one of his moods, and someone usually dies when he’s in one of his moods. And you’re too cute to get splattered. Oi! How d’you like your eggies!”

Mei stared at him from over the tops of her knees and maintained her shield of silence.

Junkrat sighed wearily. “Nothing? I see how it is. Well guess what, Sullen Sally, you being a little snit about things isn’t improving the situation here. And you just lost dinner fork privileges, by the by! Yeh, I see how you’re looking at me, thinking you’re going to fork ol’ Jamison in the back. Well I’m onto you. It’s spoons for you from here on in.”

He hummed tunelessly to himself as he began piling things into the frying pan, sparking up the camp stove. And soon she recognized the scent of cooking onions and potatoes, the vapors instilling a hunger in her that had only been kept at bay by fear. If Junkrat was right, it really had been days since she’d last eaten, and she was feeling it. And while her junker captor bobbed to some unheard beat and kept cooking, she found herself not really caring what it was that he was making, if he just gave her some.

Unfortunately, her silence earlier (probably combined with trying to kill him before that) had not done much for his good will. As she watched, he piled an enormous portion of hash and eggs onto a plastic tray instead of a plate. Frankly, she was surprised he didn’t eat out of a trough. And instead of offering her any, he took his tray and ambled over to his couch, setting it on his lap as he picked up a fork and promptly began shoveling piles of food into his jaws as he watched her.

Mei glanced up very briefly to his wild golden eyes, then back down to the tray of hash. She was literally salivating now, and swallowed thickly a few times as she tried not to let it drool out of her mouth. Junkrat only smirked even harder when he noticed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he really did intend to taunt or starve her for her transgressions. He couldn’t be trusted, after all.

He speared a chunk of potato on his fork and pointed it at her. “I can see you’re hungry. Well, I offered you some! S’wrong? S’not poison, see? You don’t like eggs, maybe? What do you like? If you tell me, I’ll get it for you. But you gotta talk to me, pet. How about we start with your name, and then you tell me what you’ll eat.”

She warily bit her lip, but her snarling stomach was too strong to ignore. And he might as well know the name of the lady he had abducted. So she drew herself up a little and kept her eyes on the tray of hash. “Mei-Ling Zhou…Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou.”

His bushy eyebrows shot up. “No foolin’? A doctor! Maybe my luck is changing, I snagged a doctor! Listen, doc, think you could take a look at me? Have enough aches and pains to fill a list. And I got this weird lump on my-”

“Not that kind of doctor!” She held up both hands quickly, warding off any more talk about his lumps. “Not a medical doctor.”

Rat wrinkled his nose in disappointment, then shrugged. “Eh! What use is a doctor who can’t do doctor things? All right, Mei-Ling Zhou. Mei-Ling. Mei. That’s a pretty name.” He turned his crooked smile upon her, clearing his throat and trying a little too hard to be suave. “Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

She half-lidded her eyes at him in reply.

He merely took another huge bite of his dinner, chewing noisily and speaking around a jaw full of food. “Still pissed at you, mind. Gonna have bleedin’ blues and purples all over my neck for a week and my voice is cracking all over, worse than usual. And you trying to kill me in a shithouse? Hell of a location to take someone out. Insult to injury, that is. You know, Miss Mei, I gotta say I rather expected a little more gratitude on your end. ”

Gratitude! He expected gratitude from her! She could feel her hackles rising at the very thought, but she was still very much aware of her situation- chained to a wall and half-naked. She couldn’t risk angering him. So she swallowed and kept her voice soft. “Sorry? I was…scared.”

“Aw, sweetness!” Rat’s gaze softened, going positively gooey in their centers, and his maniac grin almost became a regular one. “See! I knew it! S’not your fault, you just didn’t know what was what, just like I said. Well not to worry. You’re completely safe here with me! I’ve made sure of it. Come on, dry your eyes. Give us a smile!”

She did not give him any sort of smile. “Junkrat? You said your name was Junkrat. Please…you have to let me go.”

He scrunched his face to one side again, spearing another hunk of sausage and shoving it in his gnashing maw. “Sorry, love. I already told you, can’t just let you go off on a lark. Not around here. There’s too much danger around here for wanderin’ guests. And not with folks out looking for you. I shudder t’think of the consequences! You arready saw one of our security measures? Well, they’re for good reason. I know what they’re like. But I’ll keep those louts away from you if it’s the last bleedin’ thing I do.”

“What if…What if you just let them find me? What if you just let me go, and they found me, and I didn’t tell anyone that you took me! Nobody has to get hurt, if you just let them find me safe.” She turned upon him with pleading eyes, pulling her blanket closer around her. It was a long shot, but if the police were searching for her, maybe she could convince the junker to free her in return for clemency.

It didn’t surprise her when he denied her request. What did surprise her was his confusion over it. His brows knitted up and he stared at her as if she was the one who was crazy. “The fuck? Are you bloody mad, love? You want me to let them find you?”

“Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I!”

He set the tray down, still out of her reach. Seemingly baffled, he rose and began pacing uneasily, smoothing back his soot-stiff blond hair. “Well this is…Arright, I see how it is! During our little scuffle, I must have whomped your head a bit. That’s all. Rattled your brains about, and now you’re spitting nonsense. Because you’d have to be mad to want that.”

“There’s nothing mad about it. And I promise you, I won’t tell them that you’re involved. You and your friend, you’ll go completely free. We can just…go our separate ways. Nobody gets hurt, and I can go back with them. Everything can still work out if you just let me go.”

He lunged at her so suddenly that she recoiled, slamming her back into the rough wooden wall. The lanky junker loomed over her, gaze skeptical as he brought his face uncomfortably close to hers. So close that she could smell the eggs and hash he’d just been eating. She almost would have kissed him for a taste of it, if she hadn’t been trying to lean as far away from his person as possible.

Rat stared very intently into her eyes through her glasses, then frowned. “Huh. Was seeing if you got wonky pupils.Ya know. Brain damage. Maybe a little concussion. Don’t fret, lovely, I’ve had plenty of concussions and I turned out just fine! Because that’s what you probably have is brain damage, talkin’ like that.”

“I’m not…concussed. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please, just let me go!”

He still looked baffled. Still eying her, he shook his head, doubt clear. “You honestly want me to return you to them? Are you having a go at me, Mei? Or is this…Wait, is this some sort of suit rich-lady sex thing?”

“S-sex thing?!”

“Like…get yourself ‘kidnapped’ by junkers? And then they rough you up a bit? Like you have this bad boy fantasy? Or is this like…a cuckold thing? You and your hubby set this up?”

“Husband? Fantasy? What on earth does that even mean! W-why would anyone, why do you think I would…No! What are you talking about!”

Junkrat merely looked confused and even a bit put out. “Because…Look, if this is just some weird fetish you got, this kind of changes how everything went down. And…wow, fuck am I ever in trouble if that’s the case! But I mean…uh, if you really want some junker action sex fantasy here, I’m just saying, if you want that, I’m always available t- OW!”

***

She’d hit him. The bloody crazy not-doctor lady had just hauled off and slugged him. It didn’t hurt, really, not like when she’d choked him out and had the leverage to do so. From down there, she was just too small and soft and there was no power behind it. But she’d clearly meant it to hurt, so he humored her and yelped a bit, falling back right onto his arse.

This Mei-Ling Zhou, who was a doctor but not the right type of one, was even cuter when she was mad. And lucky him, but she seemed to be constantly mad. Even now she was glaring at him, full offense taken.

“How dare you! How can you treat this as a joke!”

He snorted and scooted away from her. “Touchy, touchy! I’m not the one who wants to go running off into…that kind of particular situation! And they say I’m touched in the head. You? You got problems, darl.”

“You’re the one keeping me chained to a wall! After…After what you tried to do to me!”

He threw up both hands. “For the bloody record, I did not! I was trying to gently persuade you not to go runnin’ off into a fuckin’ minefield! So yes, I had to jump on you, but only a little. You know, after I tried calling out to you, but couldn’t. On account of you stranglin’ me to a half death in a goddamn shithouse! And don’t think I forgot that absolutely spot-on nut shot you gave me. Fockin’ hell, I’m going to be singing soprano for weeks.”

“I was trying to stop you from hurting me! Just let me go!”

“I’m not hurting you! For the last time, I am not the junker what was going to hurt you!” he couldn’t help the snarl creeping into his voice, even if it hurt his throat and made her cower. “I know that you rich doctor lady types think all junkers are the same, but it’s not the case. Here. I know your brain’s rattled, so I’ll make this easy to remember for us both. Me, Junkrat. Me good. Good junker. Junkers out there? Baaaad junkers. Me keep you here for your own safety. Ya bloomin’ nutcase, ya.”

“You’re not funny!” she snapped, though she still shrank away from him.

“I happen t’think I’m hilarious!” he answered primly, putting his nose in the air and placing a hand to his bony chest. “Look, darl. This is all getting off on the wrong foot. And that’s bad news for me, because I only got one! Ha!” He shrieked a laugh, but she merely looked unimpressed. Tough crowd. “But look. I promise you, even though I dunno what your weird deal is, I’m not gonna let you come to harm. Never. I tried to tell you, the only reason I put on your cuff there was to keep you from wandering out into danger. And right the damn moment I took it off you, you wandered out into danger…Well, it’s clearly going to stay on a little longer until we hash a few things out. Oh, right, I still got that hash left…”

She eyed him carefully, clearly distrustful. “But…You can take it off me soon, right? And you don’t want to hurt me? Or do…anything bad, to me?”

“Swear it! Upon my very life.” He straightened up to his massive height, slapping a hand over his heart. “I won’t hurt ya, and you and me, we can figure this out. And I’ll make it comfy for you as long as you’re here, until we figure what’s what. Promise.”

Mei was silent for a long while, rubbing up and down her arm and not looking at him. He offered her his best smile, the constrained one that looked a little less boom-crazy. She didn’t smile back, but she did finally look back at him. Even though he knew his promise still wasn’t worth too much to a scared and clearly confused woman, she seemed a bit less outright terrified of him.

“Can I…please have something to eat?” she finally asked, wrapping her arms around her stomach rather meekly. “And drink? Please?”

He brightened, holding up a finger for her to wait before he went scrambling back to the sofa, with its tray of eggs and hash. He didn’t have the fine china she was probably used to eating off of, being a fake doctor and all, but it would have to do. Heaving the coffee table over in front of her mattress with a screech against the wood floor, he juggled the food tray up in one hand and brought it slamming down in front of her.

She swallowed hungrily, but was still looking up at him in a very expectant manner. Oh right! Ladies didn’t eat with their hands like he usually did. Holding up two fingers, trying to signal her to wait even longer, he went limping back into his kitchen, sorting through his cabinets and completely forgetting where everything was in the process. She’d lost sharp cutlery privileges, but he still needed to find a spoon, after he’d used the last batch of metal spoons as connecting rods for that one bomb one time back in-

He slammed open a cupboard and found it crammed full of cans of preserved peaches, the shelf below crowded with beans. Ah, two of his favorite things. Maybe she would want some, but later. He did manage to find a wooden stirring spoon in with a collection of tinfoil and rubber bands. And he’d have to try and remember where those were, for the next time he needed them. He probably wouldn’t remember. What was he going to remember, again?

Hobbling back the few steps across his humble home, he set down the too-large spoon and a new mug of water on the table before her, then reeled back, clasping his hands and waiting expectantly. And lucky him, but the lady did still have her manners. She looked a bit confused at the gigantic spoon, but picked it up anyway as she shuffled herself closer to her meal, looking up at him with a little “…Thanks.”

“Any time! Any time, love! You just have a bite to eat, and then we’ll talk about…everything else, I guess? I mean, you can’t honestly expect me to just let you go wandering off to…ugh. The others. I’d be an irresponsible host. Can’t have that.”

“What others? You mean that masked man?” She had an awkward time with her oversized utensil, but after a few wary bites, she became a whirling dervish of spoons and eggs and potato bits, shoveling it into her jaws almost as eagerly and rudely as he had. Poor thing.

He smiled dreamily as he watched her stuff her face, bits of egg falling out of her lip. She really was a cutie. “Roadhog? Nah. Look, I know he’s pretty fearsome. But underneath that gruff, blood-spattered exterior is…” His eyes drifted apart slightly, trailing off. “Huh. No, I guess he’s pretty much himself. Well they don’t call him the one-man apocalypse for nothing. But he’s my best mate and one hell of a standover man in these parts. I didn’t hire him on for nothing, you know. He won’t be hurting you, so long as you just don’t get in his way. And while you’re safe in here, you won’t! Easy peasy!”

His eyes swerved away from her meal, easily distracted as ever, to the television still playing off to the side. The sports had finished a while ago, and now it was some sort of news show. A skirt-clad woman with large breasts and a larger smile was showing off the weather for the next week. Not surprisingly it was hot, hot, and more hot.

Mei spooned up the last of the eggs, though she seemed strangely hesitant about the sausage. She looked at it with a knitted brow, bit her lip, looked at it again…and then finally scooped it up and ate it too. Junkrat tilted his head at her.

“Not to your liking, darl? I can make ‘em even crispier next time. Got a nice new blowtorch, even, can put it to good use!”

“Erm…No thank you. I normally don’t eat meat, is all. But…I was really hungry. Thank you?”

He practically wiggled at even the most basic gratitude. “Yeah yeah yeah! Whatever you need, darl! I’ll get it for you!”

“But shouldn’t we talk about me going home? You said you’re not going to hurt me but…I don’t belong here. Why did you even bring me to this place?” She hugged herself, and he couldn’t help it as his eyes darted to the way the thin jersey clung to the sudden bulge of her chest.

No no no. Eyes up, Junkrat. Eyes up. He cleared his throat and forced his gaze back up. “Because it’s the safest place in the Outback, love. Not like I could take you back to wherever it is you came from until I know where that is! And even then, you’re a long travel from any of the coastal cities.” His eyes darted again when he saw his words only upset her further. “But we’ll get you there! We just got to lay low for a bit while they’re combing around for you. The one you were meant for, he is not happy. Went through a lot of trouble to rescue you, after all.”

She gave him a strange look. “Rescue me?”

“Yeah! When I rescued you from those other junkers!”

“…Other junkers? What do you mean-”

He didn’t hear the rest of what she said, because suddenly there were two of her. For a moment he thought maybe his brain had crossed wires again. That happened sometimes. But no, there were definitely two Meis. The jersey-clad Mei in front of him, who still had a bit of egg stuck on her chin…and another Mei on the television behind her.

“Hold up! Hold the phone! Shhh! Shut!” He snapped his fingers loudly, then made a zipping motion near her mouth, which seemed to startle her into silence. Blindly groping around him, he grasped her spoon and pointed it at the tv, before throwing it away and replacing it with the remote, slamming the audio on. Mei turned to follow his gaze, both of them looking to the news program.

A female voice was narrating. “-environmentalist expert from Xi’an, China, visiting for the Australian Environment Efforts summit in Sydney. Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou was reported as a missing persons by her summit cohorts nearly four days ago. Foul play is suspected, and the police are currently following up on several leads. If anyone has any information on Dr. Zhou’s whereabouts-” More pictures of Mei flashed across the scene. “They are encouraged to bring it to the attention of the authorities. A substantial reward has been offered for-”

The words ‘reward’ and a series of numbers popped up at the bottom of Mei’s last known photo. A very nice set of numbers. A very generous set of numbers. All for rescuing someone that he had already rescued. This little not-doctor sitting half-nude on top of the mattress beside him was apparently worth serious coin. Enough coin to get a man’s attention, for sure.

The missing persons report ended and the news went on. Mei herself seemed rather dumbfounded, slowly turning to give Junkrat another very wary look. Her apprehension was back, posture tense as if she was not entirely certain how he was going to react.

Junkrat was already grinning back at her.

[crazyzaika]

between hell and heaven chapter 2

Hey guys, and here is the second chapter. I hope you like it. Tell me your thoughts. A big thank you again to doginshoe, who corrected my stuff. She’s adorable.

Greets Z

Chapter 2

She was clearly in shock, staring at him with her eyes wide open. He had drawn her tightly to himself, holding her tight. She felt his warmth. His arms holding her. It was as if her mind had been shut down. And then something damp slipped over her lips and squeezed between them. Was that just his tongue? She widened her eyes even more and then she took a swing and rammed her knee between his legs. He retreated, crashed against the door frame and groaned in pain. Lucy's face was bright red and she hastily backed off as she hectically rubbed her lips.

"So you’re perhaps a prude?" he grinned then, while he holding his aching crotch and rage crept up in her. She narrowed her eyes. At the St. Virgo Star School for Higher Daughters was everything was taken from them, but they were also taught self-defense. She breathed heavily as she swung around then, turning, did a roundhouse kick and rammed her foot into his face. Apparently this pink haired lump didn't seem to have expected it, because he didn't defend himself and fell backwards. However, his strong muscles seemed to catch himself before he could completely fall down.

"Woo... you are fiery after all, huh?" he asked and rubbed the slight bruise forming on his face. She had kicked properly and held back at the base.

"I want you to disappear immediately! Come on, get away, you disgusting lout," she screamed angrily and slammed the door shut. Silence lay down across the hall and a few room neighbours stuck their heads out of the door. Natsu grinned broadly, laughed and walked on. This frigid virgin would belong to him. He would make her melt and make her beg for more. Oh yes, and then he would drop her like a hot potato. She would regret that she had kicked him and rammed her knee into his more sensitive parts. She would so regret that.

Lucy was upset. Normally she had an absolute cheerful nature and didn't get angry or vindictive quickly, but that was too much. To kiss her like that! What had thought occurred to this idiot? Levy and Juvia looked at her with open mouths and big eyes.

"Wow ..."

It came from Levy. Neither girl would have thought that Lucy could strike like that. The blonde flinched slightly, then she felt burning redness on her cheeks and smiled slightly.

"I hope I didn't scare you? At my school self-defense was a compulsory subject and after the murder of my mother father wanted me to always be able to defend myself," she said and smiled. She felt visibly uncomfortable that Levy and Juvia looked at her like that now.

"Oh, no problem. It is refreshing and reassuring that you can defend yourself," Levy said and beamed broadly.

"You know... " she began and then hesitated briefly, "I want to be honest with you, Lucy. That was Natsu. You should definitely stay away from him. He's a player," Levy said, and for a moment sadness flitted over her face.

"Just like his friends," she added. Lucy frowned. She had almost thought so. Who for god's sake just kissed strangers? Lucy mustered Levy a little closer. She seemed so incredibly sad and Lucy hurt to see the girl like that. She had been so friendly earlier, seemed so happy and joyful. Actually, she should still unpack, but she decided that she wanted to do something with them, if they would agree.

"Okay... let's forget about this idiot, he's not worth our time," she beamed at them and Levy blinked, but didn't return the smile yet. Lucy took a step towards Levy, reaching for her hands.

"Levy, Juvia, I want to be friends with you," Lucy began and now looked at Juvia, who blinked for a moment, "do you think we can do something relaxing but fun here?"

Waiting and with radiant enthusiasm in her face Lucy looked at the girls who first looked at each other and then at Lucy again. Levy smiled and laughed quietly.

"Of course we can do something," she replied and for a moment Lucy saw something glittering in her right corner of her eye, but Levy had blinked quickly. Lucy grinned broadly. Juvia giggled quietly, then she made half a jump forward and hugged Levy and Lucy.

"But what do you think is a good thing?"

"Mhm ... Magictag?" suggested Levy and Juvia looked at the small magician with big eyes, then she giggled and grinned broadly. Lucy frowned for a moment and put her head at an angle. Magictag? Did they play that here too? Lucy went to her things. If they would play Magictag, then she needed different clothes, so much was certain.

"You can play Magictag here?" she asked and looked alternately at Levy and Juvia and the two nodded enthusiastically. Redness spread over Levy's cheeks. Lucy had taken a skin tight shirt and shorts out of the suitcase. Both in black. Then she pulled out gloves and arm and knee pads. Levy and Juvia stared at her. Excitement seized Lucy, but she saw the looks of the two girls and laughed slightly nervously.

"Um... what is it? I thought we're going to play MT?" she asked and used a shortcut that only regular players normally use. Levy and Juvia's eyes got bigger than they saw.

"Um ... we're not very good and we play only in the club where the equipment is provided, but …” Levy started pointing at the clothes, "can it be that you are a regular player?”

Lucy turned red and then nodded. She cleared her throat easily, got rid of her clothes and slipped into the sportswear she had always worn at her old school. She didn't put on the protective clothing except for the gloves, then she picked out her fighting boots that had been made especially for Magictag. They were basically black, knee-high laced boots with steel caps and a special sole, as well as made of particularly robust material. She sat down on her bed for a moment and put on her boots, tied them tight so that she would have a good hold in them.

"Yes ... I ... was a member of Team Virgo Star," she noted and shrugged her shoulders. It had been her school team. Her roommates almost dropped their jaws to the floor.

"Virgo Star!" Levy screamed and Juvia only got out an eep. Lucy smiled slightly and tied her long hair up into a bun.

"Uh yes... " she began. Maybe she should have kept it a secret after all? Magictag in itself was not a classic women's game. It was a kind of tactical war game. There was a large team of 30 men, divided into three subgroups of 10 people. They competed against a foreign team of 30 men and moved through a magical field. Depending on the type of field, the ground could suddenly change or the walls could move.

The goal was to defeat the leader of the opposing team and get the flag, as well as take out so many members of the opponent. They used handguns, rifles and ranged bullets to shoot colour balls, which were operated with magic on their opponents. Close combat was also allowed. Lucy knew that her school team was quite well known and especially popular with the female fans, who were rather rare. She wasn't surprised that Levy and Juvia had heard about her team, but she was a little surprised that they seemed to be fans.

"I hope you don't mind," Lucy asked and felt nervous. She didn't want to make fun of them and swallowed easily. But Levy and Juvia beamed at her and seemed to be happy.

"That's just brilliant," Levy whispered and beamed at her with big eyes. Lucy felt a burning blush on her cheekbones. She reached into the suitcase again. She had instinctively taken her old equipment with her and now she pulled out a weapon belt and two leg holsters and the girls stared at her with big eyes.

"So then... do we play?" Lucy asked and put on her equipment. Levy and Juvia nodded eagerly. Her heartbeat accelerated and she felt howexcitement gripped her. She loved Magictag and looked forward to it. She advised the girls to choose the right clothes so that they could move well and then they made their way to the club where they could play Magictag.

"Your face... who stepped on your dick?" Gray asked and the others laughed quietly when Natsu came back snorting rage. You could clearly hear the sarcasm dripping from the black-haired student's voice, but he wasn't laughing. Natsu growled at him angrily. He was not amused. On the contrary, he was furious.

"She kicked me," he snarled and pointed his finger at his face. Laxus pulled his head up and Gajeel made a soft whistle.

"Hooohh, the little one has something on her,' he said quietly and grinning broadly. Black smoke came out of Natsu's nostrils. A sign of how pissed off he really was. There was pure murder in the dark gaze. He absolutely didn't like it when a woman rejected him, not to mention when she kicked or hit him.

"She kicked me in the face with a roundhouse kick," he growled angrily and hit the wall. Anger was boiling in his veins and he felt the heat and the irritation burning in his fire.

"How about a round of MT against the newbies," Laxus asked and Natsu looked up, then he laughed diabolically. Crush some newcomers? With pleasure.

"Crushing a few weak newcomers will certainly lifts my spirits," he growled maliciously. Normally he stayed relatively calm, but today had pissed him off so much. Natsu slid past his boys and they followed him. They had been waiting for him on the lawn earlier to see how the first contact was going, but they didn’t expect that the little Heartfilia would defend herself and apparently had some basic knowledge in self-defense and was able to do something like a roundhouse kick? Gray grinned slightly at the thought and denied the laughter.

They had walked about 15 minutes and were already here. And Lucy thought that was just perfect. So she could come here regularly. The building was big and had a strong resemblance to a block. It was plain and simple. The walls didn't have any decorations, as it was usually the case. A sign that the building had been built by magic. The walls were in a light shade of grey and the edge of a black roof was easily visible. There were no windows at all, just a wide black double door with a magical sign hanging over it. Lucy smiled slightly and her soul mirrors glided over the letters. Fairy Magictag Center, stood there in colorful, glowing letters. Excitement filled her senses and she was already looking forward to doing her favorite sport again.

"Aren’t you guys excited?" she asked and you could hear the anticipation in her voice. Her eyes shone with joy and she felt her heart beat faster ass if she had been running. Levy giggled quietly.

"You love Magictag, don't you?"

"Oh yes. It's an enormously exhausting sport, but... I just love it," she replied with a broad grin, then she grabbed Juvia's and Levy's hands and pulled them towards the door, beaming with joy. When they were only a few meters away from the door, it was suddenly ripped open and three panicked teenagers ran out. Fog and smoke followed them and wobbled out.

They were full of dirt, sweat and seemed absolutely terrified. A girl followed them, but stumbled and fell lengthways. She cried, trembled and tried to lift herself up.

"WAIT," she shouted in tears and the boys stopped, ran back to her and pulled her panically to her feet, literally fleeing. Lucy frowned.

"What the..." she started and Levy and Juvia seemed a little scared. A bad feeling crept up on her and the urge to leave was strong.

"L-Lucy... maybe..." Juvia began and put a hand on her shoulder. Lucy stared into the slightly lit hall, then tightened her shoulders and marched right into the hall. Something was wrong here and she would see why just four young people had fled panically from the magictag-hall. In her opinion no one should flee panic-stricken unless there was an acute danger to their lives.

Light fog and wads of smoke wavered around her and scattered the light of the ceiling lights, but Lucy was used to something like that and so she didn't bother about it anymore. The gaze of her brown eyes glided through the great hall, checking the situation.

The hall was huge. She stood on a kind of platform connected to a metal walkway that surrounded the entire hall, allowing spectators to watch a game from the outside. On the platform on which she stood, there was a counter on the right hand side, as well as countless shelves with equipment. The registration office for the players. On the left side there were long benches and tables so that waiting players did not have to stand around. A wide staircase led down into a sinking. Lucy stepped to a metal boundary and looked down. A playing field twice the size of a stadium extended in impressive size. There was everything the heart desired. A labyrinth, a desert, a snow desert, a jungle, a kind of canyon and a kind of inhabited area.

"Lucy?"

She turned to the voice and saw Levy and Juvia following her hesitantly. They were afraid you could see that in their eyes and Lucy felt the tension in the air, could almost smell it. But before she could say anything, she heard the laughter and the footsteps that came over metal and then a group of four young men in professional equipment came up the stairs. They laughed and joked. And Lucy sensed it immediately. These four were the reason why these other youths had escaped. Anger was flowing inside her and her hands were clenching to fists, trembling with rage. Next to her Levy gasped, but Lucy didn't know why. Her gaze lay on a guy. He just pulled a helmet off his head, the light shimmered in his salmon colored hair and his grin was wide. Her eyes narrowed into slits. And instinctively she knew it was clearly his fault.

"L-L-Lucy..." Levy began, but before she could say anything else, she had already stepped forward, put her hands on her hips and looked at the guys arrogantly.

"So it was you guys, huh? Do you enjoy torturing the weak? How cowardly are you," she said loudly and clearly. The guys froze. They hadn't noticed Levy, Juvia or Lucy until now, but her words echoed and all four stared at Lucy. She shifted her body weight, which also slightly shifted her hips, and as she looked at Natsu with a cold look, his eyes fell on her hips and his eyes narrowed. A dirty grin stretched over his lips.

"Hooohhhh..." he growled, "... someone wants to play with the big boys?" he asked and his voice dripped with sarcasm. Lucy snorted. Then she pulled a Mederia 44 out of her holster, unlocked it and shot at him before aiming. Since her weapon had a magic silencer, there was no sound and his eyes widened as red paint dripped from his forehead. Lucy smiled coolly, stepped close to Natsu and looked provocatively up at him.

"I’ll ram you unpointed into the ground, idiot," she growled and pushed him aside by the shoulder. Gray and Gajeel avoided her. No one said anything, everyone just stared at her while Natsu slowly turned around. She could really feel his anger. His magic came from him in pulsating waves, but that didn't itch her any further. She knew these types of guys. Guys who thought they were absolutely special.

On the stairs she stepped up to the railing, stood with one foot on the lower one of two rungs, then she lifted herself up and stood like that on the second rung, the railing. She turned slightly sideways and looked down at Natsu and the other boys. Icy cold lay in her eyes. Some wind came up and plucked at her blond hair, while she fixed Natsu in particular. He stared back grimly.

"Who do you think you are? I'll kill anyone who dares to challenge me, if its a girl or any other," Natsu hissed and wiped the colour from his forehead with a rag that had been handed to him by one of the staff, "especially from such stupid weaklings who think they can just mess with us!"

"You will not defeat me. Because you're not strong enough to beat me in Magictag, Natsu," she hissed and a scornful grin spread across her features. She giggled, which again caused anger to boil up in him. Oh, he would make her whine for mercy. A murderous expression spread on Natsu’s face.

"Come and catch me if you can," she said and the sight made him snarl angrily. Clearly, he would lay her down, would destroy her! His temper crawled through his veins cold and poisonous. She leaned forward and let herself fall. Shocked, the boys gasped, Juvia and Levy screamed and all rushed to the railing and looked down. Lucy fell the nearly 50 meters into the depth, turned in the air and then... she landed skillfully, rolled off and jogged away. Natsu growled and bared his teeth. His pupils contracted into narrow slits.

"May the game begin," he hissed and a vicious rumble followed his voice. Then he jumped after her without using the stairs. He didn't want to stop when he hunted this stupid, rich girl and killed her like an animal.