#m just in full body rictus

[thunderheadfred]

My dog decided she wasn’t done almost dying so. Um. good for her. Real power move.

Taking her to the ER again tonight. I’m super duper not okay!

[omgreally]

In Fire

Loki Laufeyson/F!Reader

Rating: VERY E 18+ ONLY NO MINORS PLEASE. Thank you.

Words: 1.6k of pure filth

Summary: The trouble with running from a God is that he can always find you eventually, and the punishment for disobeying can be...severe.

Rough sequel for To Stardust.

Warnings: THIS IS AWFUL, dark!Loki, extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics, (consensual) choking, rough oral (f and m receiving), deepthroating, orgasm denial, slapping, Loki is terrible, unprotected sex (NO! No.), creampie, aaand a tiny bit of aftercare if you squint. 

You don’t ask him how he found you.

You don’t ask, and Loki doesn’t tell. He corners you on your ship before you can leave. You expect admonishment - punishment - not the sad-eyed kind of resigned disappointment that makes your heart ache, hollow and empty. 

You would take his anger over this - his venom - his vitriol; you are deserved of that, this you know. Instead he is like stone, cold and immovable.

You crave the beginning of things: When it was all fire and fever, skin pressed together in sleepless nights and days where the madness of extended wakefulness made your mind blur until all he was all there is: Loki Loki Loki, singing in your bones. 

You miss the molten, slower moments, when the galaxy slowed for the pass of his lips over yours, when you would inhale his kiss and it would burn you inside, burn until you crumbled, exhaling ash and dust.

Now, he won’t touch you - won’t even look at you. And beyond that, he seems...older, somehow, the weight of something you can’t see on his shoulders, dragging his head towards the ground.

“Loki.” Your hands worm under his armor, his tunic and leathers, small and warm and cloying. You can’t help it; he is the current that runs through you and draws you to him like a magnet whenever he is around. It’s why you left without seeing him - without saying anything - you knew he’d be able to make you stay.

“What burden is so heavy that you can’t even muster the energy to punish me?”

He looks at you then - and you wonder if you made a mistake - the edge is there again; honed to a point rimed in frost. Loki gives you the full force of his anger,  spearing you with his gaze and you almost physically recoil, until his fingers close around your throat and you stifle a gasp at how warm they feel.

Or perhaps you’ve just grown cold.

“The burden of purpose,” he tells you and he squeezes and it’s wonderful, the strain and seize in your lungs as they fight for oxygen. All you can do is release a soft sound - a facsimile of a whimper - going limp as Loki bears you towards the deck.

At first you think he’s going to kill you - keep squeezing until the life fades from your body. But he lets go just as black begins to creep into the edges of your vision, and you gasp to inflate your lungs, dizzy and impossibly aroused.

Loki watches you breathe, the rictus of a snarl caught on his lips, but there’s a longing in the icy glaze of his eyes that you recognize.

“I missed you,” he says, voice low as if afraid someone might hear it. A note of disgust discolouring his words. “This time, you’re staying with me. You’re mine.”

Yours, you agree silently, for you don’t have enough oxygen for the words - yours yours yours your body answers for you as he takes down your pants, too impatient to bother with magic as he buries his mouth between your legs.

His lips are soft and smooth and a contrast to the edges of his teeth as he worries your flesh with the pointed edges of his canids. You hear him laugh as you twist and buck beneath him - a sound of cruel enjoyment and yes, here is the punishment you are deserving.

Loki takes his time with you. He merely nuzzles your cunt, pressing devastating kisses to your flushed outer labia, your inner thigh, and here and there your clit to keep you on the precipice of wanting. When his tongue joins the dance, finally, it feels like it’s been hours - days - an eternity; he laves the flat, wet, textured surface across the whole of you, licking a filthy stripe from your hole to your clitoris which he sucks viciously, batting it to and fro with his tongue.

It’s too much all at once, and it tears a wail from you, your knees drawn up and your hands fisting in his hair. The memory of how soft it felt beneath your fingers intersecting with the reality of it, clenched in sweaty handfuls as he fucks you with his mouth.

When his fingers join in, blunt and probing at your entrance, you gasp, and he delights in the noises he pulls from you with the thrust of his digits home. He fingers you deep, curling them inside the clutch of your quivering cunt in the way he knows you like, the way that never fails to bring you to the sweating, trembling precipice of orgasm.

And then he pulls back.

“On your knees,” he commands, an immense shadow looming above your pathetic, shivering form. You start to protest - once, you would have - but you know at once that you haven’t earned that right back. Not yet.

You shuffle towards him - not even bothering to remove your pants - and before you can fumble with the fasteners of his, they’re gone and Loki is bare before you. Bare and magnificent, and you think he doesn’t need golden horns to be a king.

Your King.

He slaps you when you try to look at him, to make eye contact - the brief contact of his palm against your face almost loving in its ferocity. Your head rocks and you taste copper but you grin around it and lick a hot stripe up the underside of his dick - just as he had done to you moments prior.

Your pussy still aches, and you rub your thighs together for some relief as you tongue the head of Loki’s cock. It stands thick and proud, already weeping precome from the tip - something you’d be smug about, if he’d allow it. He tastes bittersweet, and this flesh is hot, searing as you swallow inch after inch down your throat.

“Fuck,” Loki hisses, and now he’s the one grabbing handfuls of your hair - moving your head gently to and fro to admire the stretch of your lips around him. He groans at the sight of your face, tears in your eyes, and he smiles right before he pulls his hips back and then plunges right back in.

After that, you’re given scarcely a moment to breathe - your whole concentration is on the surge of your tongue, the stretch of your jaw as Loki pounds into your mouth. You choke a couple of times, but your gag reflex is refined enough to pull you back in line, and Loki too as he slows.

“You want my come?” he mutters - you gaze up at him; his teeth gritted, a vein standing out on his forehead, hair and eyes wild - he looks out of control, beautiful. He grabs you by the handful of hair at the back of your head and yanks you roughly off his cock. “Earn it.” 

You grab his hand as he goes to slap you. “Make me.”

Before you can figure out what’s happening, his hand is on your shoulder - spinning you around - between your shoulderblades, a pressure that plants your face on the deck, ass in the air. He smacks you once, a sound that rips through the space, a shock of pure pleasure-pain making you clench inside.

You’re so tense that Loki has a difficult time breaching you - forcing the swollen, purpled head of his cock through your drenched folds, he groans with the effort. “So - fucking - tight,” he grunts, in time with the savage jabs of his hips that soon has him balls-deep, pelvis-to-pelvis with you.

“Loki,” you whimper, but he doesn’t hear you. He’s too busy drawing out - all the way out - before hauling himself forward, inside you everywhere, all at once. You think you might scream - scream or pass out - but you do neither, gasping in raw shock instead.

“I cared for you,” he grunts, his fingers digging in to the flesh over your hips, like talons bruising their grip into your skin. “I worshiped you. And you - left!”

This last word, punctuated by a grinding plunge of his cock, has you seeing stars - has you being them, born with dark matter in the place of a heart, blank and unknowable. It’s filled by the supernova of your orgasm, flooding light through you in waves - you seize and shake and clamp down on the pulsing rod of his cock.

And through it you cry: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Loki is unmoved. He doesn’t let up; his pace only quickens as he forces himself through the squelching mess of your pussy. The sounds of raw, moist flesh moving together is obscene, makes your mouth and your eyes water; you grab out for a grip on the deck - something, anything - as the frantic rock of your bodies scrapes your knees across the metal.

Loki comes with a snarl - curving over you with a vicious “You’re mine,” hissed into your ear. He bites down on your shoulder, the sharp clinch of his teeth a counterpoint to the sweet wave of pleasure undulating within you. He buries his cock deep once, twice more before holding there, gasping as he fills you with the molten heat of his come.

He lingers there a while, just breathing, and that gives your heart time to slow. Then he slumps onto his side, you with him, still joined at the hips. Propping himself up on an elbow, Loki smooths your hair back from your face; he kisses your cheek, your temple, your shoulder. Soothes the bite marks with a press of his lips, rubbing at the bruises forming on your hips, gentle but still a reminder of the pain he claimed you with.

“Never leave me again,” he murmurs into your neck. It’s phrased like an order - but it comes out like a plea.

“Never,” you promise. And you obey.

[whumpywhumper]

Nightmare

Whumptober 2020: No 7. I'VE GOT YOU | Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

I haven’t done any Whumptober, but I said i was gonna post this when I saw the prompt fit so here we go. I think I’m also going to start jumping around in cannon a little bit and ignore the section that I’m stuck on. Get some content out and stop feeling stuck. 

Set in the future sometime :) Masterpost

Tagging: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @walkingchemicalfire @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia​ 

Usual thanks to @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread because you guys are awesome and listen to me ramble 

TW: Nightmares?

V***V

Markus was lost in a dream where he couldn’t move, his body completely out of his control, while masked, faceless men stood around with clip boards and white coats. His brain thrummed with panic. He wanted to scream, but as he opened his mouth the viewpoint changed and a black, bulbous bile bubbled out of his mouth, spilling over his lips and spreading into tentacles that wrapped around his throat. He watched his own eyes widen as he choked. Disembodied. A spirit. A soul unable to claw at his throat to loosen the tightening, demonic appendages.

The white coats turned their backs on him as everything went further and further away. The only witness to his dying body was himself. Watching his eyes turning red and bulging as capillaries burst. As his nostrils flared, trying to suck in precious oxygen. Mouthing fruitlessly at nothing, black tentacles keeping his lips spread grotesquely around the thick shaft coming from his throat.

A gloved hand spread over his chest, the tacky texture of the latex a sensory overload to his figmented reality. It pressed, harder, and harder. Until his sternum was cracking, and the hand pressed into, no—through— his skin. Red blood gurgled up, between the unrelenting fingers, staining the white of the hand over his chest, and Markus could finally scream as the monstrosity was pushed out of his mouth with a sickening pop.

Markus looked up in horror as Christine arched above him, the reflective metal of a long knife poised above her head in both hands, fangs bared in a rictus of a smile. Her mouth opened in a low, chilling laugh as the blade slammed down between his eyes in a crescendo of pain.

His eyes snapped open as he convulsed in the bed, his elbows knocking against two soft objects with a panicked cry that echoed off of the walls. “No!”

He scrambled against the mattress, fingernails digging into the sheets, still screaming as he frantically fought to get away. “Please, please don’t!” The room was dark, no light illuminating his surroundings as restraining hands tried to trap him again, to hold him down and hurt him. Loud voices joined the cacophony, but the words didn’t make sense to the terrified witch. He ripped free of the restraining hands, panting a croaking sob as he launched himself away, toppling to the floor with a thump.

A gasp exploded out of him when the air was knocked out of his lungs, but he clambered to his hands and knees, ignoring the carpet burn as his skin gave way to his fear. He found a corner as light flooded his senses, and he cowered, pressing his back to the wall as breathless pleas scattered out of his mouth.  “Pleasepleaseplease...”

“Hey, heyheyheyhey—look at me, Markus—look at me, honey,” a voice pulled his attention from where he’d buried his face into the crook of his arms, it was sweet, low, and comforting. Holding none of the false succor that Lucien had plied him with, and Markus raised his eyes slowly.

Tears blurred his vision, but he saw Ben kneeling in front of him, hands raised like he was warding off a wild animal. Kincaid was pressed against the door jam, hand slapped over the light switch as his own chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes wild. They were both in basketball shorts, bare chested, their hair sticking up and crazy from sleep.

Markus felt a broken noise crack through his throat like stained glass, “Oh, god.” Full bodied, throaty sobs wracked him, and he couldn’t stop himself as he started bawling.  He curled up, hands fisting in his hair, and something must have let the other two men know that it was safe to approach him.

Ben’s arms wrapped around his shoulders first, pressing a kiss to the back of his head as he murmured soothingly, “shh, shh, shh, it’s okay, Bambi, just a nightmare.”

Kincaid pressed against his other side, the tell-tale song of magic thrumming as one of his arms slid around his own bare torso. “Heyyy, sweet guy, heyyy...don’t cry, we’re here, you’re okay.“ He gathered him up with a hand under his knees, pulling his unresisting body into his lap, and Markus buried his face into the side of Kincaid’s neck. “I know, sweet guy, we’ve got you. Let it out, baby, shhhh.”

He hiccoughed a wet apology, his face sticking to the other’s salty skin. “S-sorry, ‘m s-so sorry.”

“Hush, honey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, shhh.” Ben brushed a hand through his hair as he helped rearrange Markus’s gangling limbs, pulling a blanket off of the bed and wrapping it around both of the witches. He settled beside them, leaning against Markus’s back, breathing slowly and evenly. “Just breathe, Bambi.”

<***>

Kincaid held Markus close as he and Ben soothed the distraught witch, rocking him gently as his hand brushed up and down his back, the other stroking through his hair. Markus was still shaking, small sobs rending his heart into pieces with every sound. His neck was uncomfortably wet from the other man’s tears, and his legs were definitely asleep, but he didn’t feel any urge to move. He would stay on the floor, ass cheeks tingling, as long as he needed.

It wasn’t often that Markus let him or Ben hold him, struggling with the casual touches that made up any relationship, the lack of control making him anxious and skittish. He met Ben’s eyes as he pressed his cheek into Markus’s hair, seeing his same heartache in the other man’s honeyed gaze.

This had been the first night they’d spend with Markus in the same bed, even though they’d been together for months. The other witch had been flighty about staying or letting them stay with him. Usually sneaking out as Ben and Kincaid dropped from long shifts and hard hours.

They’d finally gotten him to agree to stay after it became obvious that he was struggling, the black bags under his eyes swallowing his face, exhaustion written in the slump of his shoulders. Now, they knew why he hadn’t wanted to stay.

He and Ben waited until Markus’s breathing was soft and easy, his lithe frame completely limp, Kincaid feeling the steady  puff of air against his neck that announced he’d fallen asleep. Ben stood first, moving slowly as he separated from Markus, so he didn’t wake him. “Alright,” he whispered, “back to bed, love.”

“Can you take him?” He gave the slightly shorter man a sheepish smile, “I don’t think my legs are gonna be able to move for a few minutes.”

Ben’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but he didn’t say a word as he gathered up their lover, keeping the blanket tucked around him. Markus gave a whimpering moan as his head lolled to the other man’s shoulder, but Ben hummed at him softly. “It’s alright, honey, it’s just me. Go back to sleep, hush.”

With Markus’s weight off of him, Kincaid had to bite his lip to keep from waking the man with his unmanly squealing. Pins and needles shot through his legs, and he spent a few agonizing moments trying to rub feeling back into the numb extremities. Ben offered him a hand after settling Markus back into the middle of the bed, where they’d fallen asleep curled around each other, and pulled him into a tight hug as he stood.

He was trembling, and Kincaid gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he held him. Ben was always like this, nothing fazed him in the heat of the moment but, as soon as the emergency was taken care of, he let himself crumble and feel everything. “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he whispered into Ben’s hair, fingers curling into the soft strands as he looked over at Markus’s sleeping face.  

Kincaid really did know how he felt, his own heart was still thudding in his chest from the jolt of adrenaline that had shot through his unconscious system at Markus’s panicked scream. His ribs ached from where Markus’s flailing elbow had caught him in his desperate attempt at fleeing, and he didn’t think he’d get the sound of his pitiful begging out of his ears even if he scraped them clean.

“He’s been struggling like this the entire time, Kincaid,” Ben said tightly, voice choked with emotion. “How—why didn’t he come to us before?”

“You know as well as I do, trauma victims process differently—there isn’t any logic there, he’s doing what he can to protect himself.”

A vigorous nod against his already wet shoulder, and Ben sniffled, “I know, fucking hell, I know. Doesn’t make it any easier to wake up to him screaming like that.”

He held Ben closer, burying his own face into the crook of the other man’s neck, breathing deeply of his woodsy musk. His hug was returned with equal fervor, a calloused hand trailing up and down his back as they swayed for a few moments together.

The sound of Markus whimpering pulled them apart, and they looked over in concern. Still deeply asleep, the other witch’s eyebrows were crinkled in distress, a slight frown pulling his expression downwards as the light caught on the tear streaks on his face. He and Ben moved in sync with each other, like they did in so many ways, Kincaid shutting off the lights as he went to the other side of the bed while Ben pulled back the covers so they could crawl in.

Markus stirred slightly as they settled around him, their arms curling over him in the semblance of a hug, and Kincaid felt Markus’s breath hitch as their skin touched. Kincaid wasn’t strong enough to get more than a twinge when he touched the other witch, but he knew Markus was extremely sensitive to the magic he gave off. “Hush, sweet guy, we’re here,” he murmured soothingly, “we’re not going anywhere. You’re safe, you can sleep, okay?”

He seemed to settle as he and Ben comforted him with gentle words and touches, breaths coming slow and easy as he went back to sleep.

“God, Bambi, you must be so exhausted,” Ben whispered quietly, and Kincaid felt his hand brush against his own as they both smoothed Markus’s hair in tender strokes.

“I knew he had to have been having nightmares, but he’s been so quiet about everything. I haven’t wanted to push.” Guilt tickled against his heart with the same amount of sorrow pressing at his chest. “We’re going to have to ask in the morning, you know that, right?”

Ben sighed, but he heard him nod, hair shifting against the pillow case. “Yeah, but let’s get him to sleep in first, okay? It’ll be easier when he’s well rested.”

Implicit in his qualification was Ben’s own reluctance to push, but they would do what had to be done to help Markus. Just as he would for them.

[fogsrollingin]

Title: calculated losses, chapter 3 Author: fogsrollingin fandom: Supernatural Story details: Sam & Dean, rated PG-13, 2.3k words. Summary: my next entry for @whumptober2020! Prompt filled is no 21. “hypothermia.” and No. 22 “withdrawal.” This chapter completes the whole story! chapter 1 on tumblr || chapter 2 on tumblr || full story available on AO3 || FFnet too

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　calculated losses, ch3　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dean hunched over the wheel, hands gripping it tight at ten and two, knuckles whitening as he tried to suppress the shivers wracking his body. Sam was still so cold he hadn't started shaking yet. He was lethargic, slumped against the passenger door and mumbling incoherent strings of words. Dean couldn't forget Sam was withdrawing too. The heat blasted through the vents. Dean drove, eyes wide and desperate for lodgings.

The convenience store they'd been held up in had been on a frontage road parallel to the highway. He cursed the long local street, his side of it holding nothing but Pennsylvania wilderness now, interspersed with gravel driveways leading to decent two-story houses. It was empty of traffic. He'd probably need to get onto the highway before he could find a place to stay.

He glanced at Sam. His brother had closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open.

"Sam? Sammy!?" Dean shook him, grabbed his arm and Sam sleepily came back to life.

"Yeah here, jeez," Sam wheezed as Dean kept shaking him. "Dean, okay!"

"Stay awake," Dean ordered roughly. He was so worried about Sam, still holding Sam's arm that he almost missed the wide driveway of "Osa Motel and Campgrounds."

Dean slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel, making Sam lean then fall into his lap. The Osa general store parking spaces were right there so Dean pulled up and took the opportunity to feel Sam's forehead. Still ice cold. Sam moaned and curled up.

"Gonna get a cabin, Sammy, be right back," Dean promised. He slipped out from under Sam, making sure his head landed carefully.

The general store was a godsend. Dean paid for the closest cabin and several heat packs. He explained to the manager, Achak, a middle-aged Native American man with intelligent, curious dark eyes that he and his brother were just getting back from a bad camping trip and needed to rest and recuperate from the elements. Achak gave Dean a knowing and sympathetic nod before coming around the counter. He handed Dean the key and went outside with him, confirming Dean's story with a glance at Sam sort of sleeping in the front seat of the Impala. He pointed at the traditional log building that was theirs.

They busted into the spacious one-room cabin, Sam draped over Dean and stumbling. Dean dropped him onto the closest bed, found the heater under a window sill and turned it all the way up, came back and started in on Sam's shirts, wet from the freezer's ice that melted on the way here. Once Sam was bare-chested, Dean used towels to pat him down, then the heat packs against his neck, under the arms. He used both sides of the blanket to wrap Sam's upper half like a burrito. Next Sam's shoes and socks, his wet jeans and boxers had to go. Same routine. Towel pat-downs, warm packs along his groin, under his knees, then he went and got all the blankets from the second bed and made a mountain so thick and warm on top of Sam Dean was honestly ready to get under there and pass out too.

He thought to get a hand towel and wrap it around Sam's damp-cold hair. Sam seemed to wake up for that, probably from Dean jostling his head.

"Dean, it's okay. I can die, I'll jus' come back," Sam stuttered and slurred.

"You're not gonna die again, Sam," Dean yelled, cupping Sam's face, tried to get his little brother to look at him. "We're gonna get you warm, Sammy. Me too, for that matter," he added as he started to undress. Sam watched him, eyes glazed, pupils blown out wide though.

Dean left his boxers on before burrowing in and unceremoniously draping himself over Sam.

"Oh fuck you're so cold,"  Dean exclaimed.

"Just let me die," Sam laughed blearily and Dean glanced down and let the relief wash over him at the sight of those dimples. He chuckled and arranged the covers more while Sam yelped and fumbled under him, weakly resisting Dean's closeness.

"Shh stop, stop Sammy," Dean whispered and Sam stilled. "You know the drill. You're coming out of it. You're gonna start shaking real bad and skin-to-skin is the best fastest way to get this over with," Dean explained softly as he maneuvered Sam around so they were on their sides and chest to chest.

"Y-y-you'll hol' m-m-"

"Shh, yeah," Dean agreed, aligning himself along Sam's block of ice body, clamping his legs and arms around him. "I'll hold you, I got you."

Sam started whimpering, the feeling coming back into his limbs, his shakes turning to spasms. "Dean," he cried against his brother's bare chest. "This is..."

"I know it's bad, Sammy. I know," Dean soothed. "Don't talk, just... c'mon." He rubbed Sam's back and got him to snug in closer against him.

"Dean..." Sam breathed into his brother's neck.

"Your hair smells like that shawarma we had yesterday," Dean whispered. "Could really go for that right now."

Sam gasped and whimpered, clutched onto Dean harder.

"It's okay, it's okay, Sammy. How's the withdrawal?"

"Feels like my heart's beating out of its chest," Sam replied, his breath punching out on every word. "My ribs are gonna crack. My head wants to explode."

Dean's heart ached. "Okay, stay with me though, okay?"

"Okay," Sam cried, burying his head into Dean's neck. "I'm sorry."

"What? For what?" Dean asked, confused.

"I don't know," Sam sobbed and Dean recognized Sam wasn't really thinking anymore. "I'm just... It hurts so much, I'm so sorry Dean."

"It's okay, Sammy."

"I love you. I love you so much. I hate dying."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "Shhhh. You're not dying, Sammy, nobody's dying."

"Feels like it," Sam wept. Dean shuddered for his brother because apparently Sam did know how it felt to die.

"Sammy, you're alive, you're just hypothermic and withdrawing from demon blood. We're getting through it," Dean coached, smelling Sam's shawarma hair again. "We'll get through it and then we'll find some middle eastern or Thai, or uh... sushi, I know you like sushi," Dean trailed off, not even knowing what he was saying anymore.

Sam spasmed and jack-knifed against him, nearly tagging Dean in the nads and Dean was just about to scold him for it when Sam fell out of bed. 

"Sam!" Sam let out a blood-curdling scream. It stopped abruptly like someone had cut his vocal chords and Dean gasped as he watched his brother's body vault up against the bumpy logs of the wall. He was held up suspended by nothing, arms wide and fingers scrabbling for purchase, his face a rictus of pain. It was a replay of what Dean had seen in the panic room last year when he'd locked Sam up to detox.

"Sam!" Dean roared, launching up and getting his arms around him, trying to pull his little brother down from the supernatural throes the demon blood had pinning him.

For too long Sam was stuck to the wall, his back unnaturally glued to it as he jerked and writhed, tried to get free, trying to reach his big brother.

"Dean," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "Please."

Finally whatever was holding Sam let go and he collapsed into his brother, kitten-weak but clinging. Dean hefted him up. "Okay back into bed, come on. Come on, Sammy," he spoke, his voice cracking. It had scared him to see Sam like this in the panic room last year and it still scared him now. But this time he wasn't leaving.

He got Sam onto the bed. Sam curled up and rolled over, heaving in agony. Dean picked all their blankets back up and draped them over him before climbing in and wrapping himself around Sam's back. "I'm not leaving you, Sammy, stay with me. You in there?" He squeezed his brother with his arms and legs. Sam jerked.

"Y-yeah."

"You feel me?" Dean moved to press a palm against Sam's chest, over the anti-possession tattoos they booth wore, over his heart. "I've got you. We'll get through this, Sammy, listen to me, okay?"

Sam put his hand over Dean's and went silent. They were quiet for awhile but then Sam's body shuddered like he'd just woken up. His shoulders started to shake, and finally Dean heard a wet gasp. "I can't do this. I can't even fall asleep right now because I'm so.... Lucifer's waiting for me. I can't do this anymore. Dean," he said his brother's name like a plea. 

"He's not gonna come this time," Dean lied.

"You don't know, you can't know that," Sam objected, tone pitchy with indignity.

Dean gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut for some kind of solution.

"Cas! We'll call Cas, Sammy. If anyone can figure out how to keep an archangel out of your dreams it's gonna be him."

Sam might've whispered 'okay' but Dean didn't press it. He was warming up but the withdrawal was giving him the same kind of tremors anyway. Hallucinations might come into play too, Dean knew. He leaned his forehead against the nape of Sam's neck and prayed aloud.

"Castiel, please hear me. We're in a bad way and we need your help. Please come to us, Cas, please. Osa Motel and Campgrounds in Pennsylvania."

They waited with Dean clamped strong around his naked, detoxing little brother. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Sam was almost over the hypothermia. The heat packs now strewn around under the covers as well as the blankets could finish warming him up. Dean could get out and sit by Sam's side or something now as he came down. And yet.

Dean kept his arms around his brother. Maybe it was because this time Sam had been forced to drink blood against his will or maybe it was because Sam was so apathetic with his own suffering in the walk-in freezer. Dean's thoughts danced around the truth though, something that struck him every time he thought about how Sam had lost count of how many times he'd offed himself. What were the last things Dean had said to Sam those times?

Dean wasn't an idiot; he knew Sam really only had him. This was destabilizing for Dean too though. He thought Sam was safe for now, but instead Sam could've taken his own life after they'd had a good laugh at the bar last week, or after a successful hunt a few days ago, the two hours Sam had been at the library before they hit up the shawarma place yesterday...

When and how had he been hurting himself with Dean none the wiser the whole time? And what if he'd succeeded with any one of them? Cold dread seeped through him at the thought. Sam would've died and Dean would've been the one to find the body. He'd be the one trying to eke out the rest of his life knowing Sammy had saved the world just by successfully killing himself.

So no, Dean kept a hold of his brother, his body warm now, shaking, slicked with sweat, his skin unmarred except from scars that Dean knew every story to. The living, breathing reminder that he still had his brother, broken and tortured but still calling his name when he was hurt, still so desperately wanting Dean's approval and love and trust.

"It's true, he does," a gravelly voice intoned, surprising Dean. He rolled away from Sam onto his back to find Castiel hovering over them.

"Cas," he breathed. He couldn't be bothered the angel had been following his thoughts. In all fairness he hadn't thought to say 'end prayer' or anything since praying to him. "Lucifer can reach Sam in his dreams. Can you stop it?"

Sam shifted weakly, moving just enough to get on his stomach and look over, eyes puffy and wet and glazed but mildly focused on the two of them.

Cas's expression was empathetic sorrow. He nodded. "I can. I will ward the cabin."

Cas vanished. Sam scooted closer to Dean inch by inch until Dean noticed and helped to get Sam resting along his side, head cushioned on his shoulder, shallow wheezy breaths against his neck.

"You'll be able to sleep soon now. Just hold on, okay?" Dean murmured. Sam sniffed and nodded. "We're gonna talk about it again later but Sam, I want to make a new rule. No dying alone anymore, you understand me?"

"We all die alone," Sam rasped.

"Not you, not when you've got me. I understand why you decided to try it, why you're still trying. I actually don't think it's a half bad idea but... we figure out a way to die permanently, we stay together," Dean paused, deciding he wouldn't go into how he'd want to die too. "And we just... go from there. Okay? Sammy?"

Sam latched onto his shoulder and tucked into him more. "Yeah, okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We'll get through this," Dean reassured, calm and controlled.

Sam didn't let go of his brother even after he cried himself into a dreamless sleep. Dean followed soon after, relieved Sam was out of conscious misery and in dire need of rest himself.

Castiel bid them farewell too but not before stocking the fridge in the cabin, something Dean discovered the next morning with such immense gratitude he actually prayed to the angel again just to thank him.

Sam woke up dizzy and disoriented around two in the afternoon while Dean was putting clothes on him. He was still so out of it he wasn't embarrassed but he wasn't in pain and Dean counted that a huge improvement. Sam couldn't remember anything past the walk-in freezer so they would have to revisit what Dean had said before but that was okay. Sam wasn't getting out of Dean's sight any time soon which was going to settle his nerves about Sam's secret opt-outs. And Sam had confessed so much that'd been eating away at him. Dean could tell their stay here, just the two of them at this warded cabin hashing things out, was going to heal them both.

---

A/N: And with that, we bring this fic to a close 😊

Thank you for reading. Please let me know if you enjoyed with a like, a comment, a reblog!

To see what the last 9 days of Whumptober are gonna look like for me, you can visit my tumblr post here with a few details. Fingers crossed I can get everything done in time. I'm really cutting things close 😵

Also if you've read my fic "in this house" (the story right before this one in my Sam Whumpchester series), I need to share MidnightSilver's incredible artwork that they posted yesterday inspired by it. It's just like, I'm speechless. Silver is a g i f t.

Thank you again for reading! Have a lovely evening (new SPN episode woo!!!) xoxo Alex

[writingwitchly]

Sunrise

Hey! ;-) I have a request. could you write a oneshot with young sirius black where his gf like gets poisoned and then faints and sirius catches her but then her life is in danger and she might not survive and sirius worries like crazy. thanks!xx ~ an Anon who gave me some quite hard work

Pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader Word count: 2,2k  Warning: FREAKIN BLACK FAMILY / poisoning / bullying / dark thoughts / sadness / a much needed hApPiE eNdInG A/N: Ok, let’s be honest. At first, I didn’t know how to write this, I didn’t get ideas for the request, but then it just clicked in my mind and it’s such a relief to share with you the extremely odious and shallow creatures that the Blacks are in my head (Andy, Reg, and Pads deserved so much better, imma cry). Also shiiite, but this got me exhausted, wrote the final part listening to Halo, by Queen B, and it definitely gave me the feelzzz. ’m also kinda proud of how it turned out? Thanks for the request, Anon, feel free to send more in. Enjoy.

“I am sorry I brought you here.”

Yeah. He can be.

The cold air seeps through your pores, and tears have formed two little streams on your cheeks. You wipe them with one of the sleeves of your cardigan, the one you had bought especially for today.

“Y/N.”

Sirius grabs your elbow and forces you to a halt. His eyes are so full of regret that you almost feel ashamed for crying. Almost.

“I-” But the words die in his mouth.

They are replaced by anger, an ugly anger that hardens your boyfriend’s facial traits. What you just suffered in the house of Orion and Walburga Back bears no name, and deserves no justification.

Two weeks ago, when they heard about their elder son’s girlfriend, Sirius’ parents immediately wrote him a letter. Your boyfriend was quite happy: his family was showing a hint of interest in him for the first time in long years. He was diffident, of course, but even if they are the most horrible people on Earth, they still remain his family. He is proud of you, and thought they would be too.

Like the naive girl that you are, you let Sirius convince you. Maybe it would somehow calm Walburga to meet her future daughter-in-law, you thought. As if this woman was capable of motherly love, or feminine complicity.

When you arrived at the Black manor earlier this evening, a strange weight appeared in your belly at the sight of the abandoned garden and dusty entrance. You told yourself it would disappear soon, believing it was just hunger, but the sensation became heavier when an unhealthy-looking house-elf opened the door, bowing his sad, grayish head until it touched the floor.

Inside, the whole Black clan was waiting for you, superiority and derision already displayed on their faces. The women were sitting in their extravagant dresses, listening to the political discussion that the men were emphasizing by moving their richly jeweled hands in the air. The atmosphere, already full of untold reproaches and hypocrisy, was worsened by the undulating column of smoke that the expensive cigars released in the room.

Sirius was standing next to you as you observed his family members. Even if he looked disgusted by their behavior, you had to admit that, with his immaculate clothes, his perfect hair, and sophisticated features, he fitted well in the picture. A very unpleasant picture of extreme wealth. One to which you do not belong.

As soon as you stepped in, the humiliation started. ‘Her skin looks like a troll’s,’ ‘The load of rags she wears doesn’t even deserve to be called a dress,’ ‘What do you reckon happened to her hair?’ are some of the whispers that filled the place. Almost every present host criticized you blatantly, ignoring the fact that you were standing right in the middle of them all. You felt your boyfriend boiling with rage next to you, but calmed him down with looks of patience and resignation.

Everybody got more bearable when the news that you are pureblood sank in. ‘At least she’s not total garbage,’ laughed Walburga. She even offered you a drink.

Wanting to make a good impression, you lowered your guard, throwing shy smiles here and there, and placing some words in the conversations. You really wanted to help Sirius. You thought things could get better, but their masquerade didn’t last long.

The word ‘mother’ slipped from your tongue, addressing Walburga.

An icy veil fell on the house. All eyes were on you. Sirius’ mother raised from her armchair, and told you to leave. As you didn’t react, she screamed at you. She claimed that she would never allow somebody like you to call her ‘mother’.

Like an automate, you stood up, and your legs carried you toward the door. Behind you, screams and laughter echoed in the living room. You heard Sirius yell something, gasps, the muffled sound of a fist on a jaw, several more hits, and the door closed behind you.

Seconds later, the door slammed again, this time with such an intensity that it could have brought the whole house down. Sirius’ steps joined yours, and you exited the neglected garden in a mutual hurt silence, his nose dripping blood and the sinking feeling in your stomach a million times worse.

“Let’s- Let’s just move over this, okay?”

Your whisper costs you a big effort, because your tongue feels incredibly dry, but it softens the young man’s expression.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to comfort him, hating the thought that he is feeling guilty about the whole story. “It didn’t go that bad.”

Your eyes have a hard time focusing on him. The stress must have gotten to your nerves.

“Of course it didn’t.” His voice is as tense as a violin’s strings. “My whole family just showed how odious they are by being total jerks to the woman I love, my mother threw you out of the house, and I punched and got punched by my father. Funny, isn’t it?”

He furiously wipes his mouth, wet with blood.

With a flick of your wand, you attempt to fix his injury. Your mind is racing to find something to say, because Sirius just entered a vicious cycle of blaming himself for having the worst family ever.

“What I’m saying, love, is that it could have been worse,” you try to sound peaceful, but the pounding veins in your skull only allow you to frown. With a lame smile, you try to joke, “I mean, at least your mother didn’t poison me when she gave me that dri-”

A sharp pain in the ribs makes you buckle, but Sirius retains you before you can fall.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Y/N!”

He holds you to his chest, cupping your lolling head with one hand.

“Y/N! What’s happening?”

Suddenly, comprehension washes over his face.

“Y/N! What did she put in the drink? What color was it?”

Your legs are noodles. The world is spinning. Your mouth involuntarily forms a rictus.

“Y/N! For Merlin’s sake, answer!”

Why does he sound so desperate?

Don’t worry, Sirius, I’m fine here. Stop yelling. The world feels… cold… and empty. But… There are people. They say they are friends. Why can’t I see their faces? Oh, they are shadows.

Spare bits of sentences reach your brain in your semi unconsciousness.

“The drink-”

What drink?

They tell me to take their hands.

“Color-”

Oh yeah, that drink. I didn’t like it. It tasted sour.

But my friends, the shadows, they say I’ll be fine with them.

“Answer!”

Why is it so important? If it makes him happy, I can remember. It was… Like his hair. Like his family.

“B- black.”

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, the world becomes darkness.

Frantic pounding resonates in the hallway.

The very last thing that Filch expects to find as he opens the school’s doors on a calm Saturday night is one of his worst nightmares, covered in blood and bruises, holding in his arms an ill-looking body.

“You!” he shouts. “What are yo-”

But Sirius pushes him aside and hurriedly steps in, his face lightening as he recognizes the silhouette standing in a velvet red night robe behind the caretaker.

“Minnie!”

“Black,” the woman exclaims in return. “I’d rather have you to call me-”

Her eyes widen in shock as she notices you.

“For Godric’s sword, what happened to her?”

Without waiting for an answer, she levitates you from your boyfriend’s arms and they both stride toward the Hospital Wing.

“Black,” she shouts, not caring to wake up half the castle, “How did L/N-”

“Poisoned,” he bitterly admits.

No more words are said until they burst into the Hospital Wing.

“Poppy!” calls Professor McGonagall.

The next moments are of agitation and worry. Madam Pomfrey and her assistant examine thoroughly your skin, eyes, and mouth, while the Head of Gryffindor walks past the exit and runs toward the Headmaster’s office. Sirius is unable to do anything but staring at your inanimate face and biting his nails. With his free hand, he desperately grasps your hand as to keep you in this world.

“When did she take the poison?”

The healer’s voice is so high-pitched that she has to repeat her question before the young man can get the sense of it. As he answers, her expression becomes unreadable.

“Mr. Black, I must ask you to leave this room.” Her cold voice makes Sirius’ hair stand on end.

“What does it mean?” He presses her.

“It means that you need to leave, please. Now,” she answers.

But the boy doesn’t like the idea of it. He doesn’t like the fear in her eyes.

“I won’t! I’m staying with her!”

His voice is hurtful, but the nurse doesn’t change her mind.

Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, who just arrived in the room, have to force him outside.

As the massive wooden doors lock in front of him, Sirius lets out a cry of pain and frustration and kneels on the floor. It’s all his fault.

If anything happens to you, he will never forgive himself.

Hey, Sirius, look! It’s the same shadows! But they don’t sound as friendly anymore. Why are they laughing?

Oh… It’s not them. It’s your family. It’s the Blacks.

They’re laughing at me. And at you. And at Andy. And at Reg.

Why? What did you do to deserve this?

I thought they would accept me. I thought that in their heart there was a place for you. I thought that they didn’t mind Andy’s silence and different interests. I thought that they loved Regulus, because he does what they want.

But they’ll never accept me. There was a place for you in their heart, except it’s buried under bigotry and pride obsession. They don’t like Andy because she’s not as loud and hypocrite as them. They mock Regulus because he believes in making things better.

They are not laughing anymore, Sirius. They are grabbing my arms. And yours. They want to tear us apart.

Their fingers are icy.

Why can’t I see anymore? I want to open my eyes! I want to scream! I don’t want to leave you!

Sirius?

Where are you?

I need you.

Please stay with me.

I love you.

“I love you…”

Sirius’ words are barely audible, but it’s not like there is anyone to hear them. You can’t hear them.

Madam Pomfrey finally let him in, and he took a seat by your side.

His eyes travel from your strangely colored skin to your grayish hair. The healer said that you’re out of danger and will recover soon, but there still is a ball of concern blocking his throat.

A ray of light caresses his cheek. It’s sunrise, the time of the day you prefer. You always say that it is the best moment to start over. If only you were awake to witness it, to see the glint of light on the glass panels, to observe the clouds’ movement in the sky, to hear your voice saying his na-

His head jerks to face you.

“Y/N?” he whispers, afraid that louder sounds would break you into a million pieces.

He sighs. Was it his imagination?

“Sirius…”

No, it was not! Your lips moved! It feels so good! He grabs your hand and presses it to his lips.

As you feel his touch, warmness travels through your body, and you force yourself to open your eyes, just a little bit. Through the thin crack, his perfect smudged face and perfect tangled hair come into focus. Also his smile. His perfect bright smile. The one that got you. That made you fall in love.

“Sirius,” you breathe again.

His smile widens.

Yes, this is how he looks better. You want to see him smiling for the rest of your life. You want to make him smile for the rest of your life.

“I love you, Sirius.”

Your mouth feels dry, but it costs you nothing to say it. It’s so natural.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he fondly answers. “But now you should rest.”

The sunlight comes from behind him, and it shines like an aura around his body. Is it sunrise? It’s the time you prefer, the best moment to start over.

“What are we going to do, Sirius?”

You let your words sink in.

Now that you understood that you can easily lose each other, what are you going to do?

He is aware of your anxiety, because he shares it.

“We are going to love each other forever, Y/N. We’ll buy ourselves a house wherever you want, grow our children there, and live the happiest life ever. I’ll keep you away from the bad things, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Never ever again. I love you too much.”

He tenderly squeezes your hand, making a mental note to kiss you as if his life depended on it as soon as you’d get better.

Your fingers intertwined, a smile on your lips, and your heart in peace, you allow the sleep to take over you.

Yes, it’s definitely sunrise.

Permanent tag list: @daytodayfun @miss-nerd0905 @funnymrspotter

Sirius tag list: @glitteryfreakslimeegg

[yetanotherfanficblog]

Debts to be Paid

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Characters: Pyotyr Ilych (Male Duskwight Elezen WoL OC), Other minor OCs.

Rating/Warnings: M (Swearing, Intense Violence, Death)

Summary: Over 20 years before he comes the Warrior of Light, young Pyotyr Ilych is forced to make a desperate decision regarding the payment of an unexpected Debt.

Author's Note: The song the bard at the start of this fic is singing is Good Riddance, from the game Hades, written by Darren Korb. The Song and the Game are both amazing, and I recommend checking them out.

---

Farewell To all the earthly remains No burdens No further debts to be paid

Goodbye To all the plans that we made No contracts I'm free to do as I may No hunger No sleep except to dream Mild and warm Safe from all harm Calm

No matter the time of day, it seemed there was always at least some bard plying their trade in the plazas and alleys of Limsa Lominsa. With the Yellowjackets strong enough to keep people safe from strong-arm robbers, if not the odd pickpocket, the Aetheryte Plaza and the Hawker's alley was often filled with their song. This particular singer, a tall, lithe, Elezen woman, was singing an old funeral hymn, less a dirge or song of sorrow, then a fond wish, the wish of the sailor - to fall gently into the loving arms of the sea, the warm waters off Vylbrand's coasts, free of beastmen and garleans, free of press gangs and captains alike, cradled in the arms of Llymlaen.

Still, Pyotyr took no time to stop and listen, Instead slipping back into the crowds of Hawker's Market, heading towards Mealvaan's Gate. In his hand, a slip of parchment: A bill posted in one of the taverns he haunted, sometimes to drink, sometimes to relieve drunken fools of their purses unawares: A ship called the Pomona, looking for hands. Just the place to disappear for a few years, if he could get there before any other number of prospective tars who might be looking to go to sea, for money, for pleasure, to escape...

So focused he was on reaching his destination, that he wasn't watching as he passed near the small alleys - one of the manly small outlets to the marketplaces, the kind you never went down unless you were well-armed or headstrong. A pair of arms darted towards the unprepared Pyotyr, one coming to cover his mouth before he could cry out, before dragging him down into a nearby sewer grate. If anyone noticed him disappear Into the dark depths, they told not a soul. The hands carried him deeper into the sewers.

---

"Seven Hells, what are you doing?" He struggled as 3 masked figures surrounded him, pushing him toward a sewer opening - a large pipe that ended in a small drop into the deep blue seas lapping at the walls of Limsa Lominsa.

"Hold him steady," A thin reedy voice from one figure, but full of hate and anger. The largest of the 3, Roegadyn by their stature. grabbed Pyotyr's arms, roughly twisting them behind his back. The reedy voiced one removed their mask. It was a Hyur, light skinned, blonde haired, blue eyes just as stormy and dark as his voice implied.

"Audric," Pyotyr said, as his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, "What a pleasant surprise! I hadn't hoped to see you again for a very, very long time..."

Audric glared at him. "I bet, Pyotyr Ilych. But not as long as my brother, right?"

"It was a shame what happened to him," Pyotyr tried to pick his next words very carefully, "He was a friend, Audric. You know that. We'd been running jobs together for a year. It's a tragedy! But there's no way I could have saved him."

"You could have DONE something," The Hyur said, a glob of spittle flying from his mouth to hit Pyotyr's cheek, "You should have known it was a bad idea! Raiding an East Aldenard Company Warehouse? How could you let him do it?"

Pyotyr sighed, "I... I'm sorry. But you know Audren. When he got an idea into his head, he could never be swayed. He said that if we pulled that heist off, we'd be set for life, and he might even have been right. The things we saw in there-"

"Weren't worth his LIFE, you idiot!" Audric said, cutting Pyotyr off with his words and a fist to his solar plexus. Pyotyr doubled over in the arms of Audric's comrade, robbed for his breath for a moment. He coughed a bit, wincing, as the aftershocks of the pain screamed through his body. Finally, they ceased, and he straightened himself again, still held fast by the Roegadyn.

"Audric, I know you're angry," Pyotyr said once he had his breath back, "I would be too if my own brother died like that. But it's the East Aldenard company you should be angry at, not me! They're the ones who killed your brother just because he needed a few extra coins!"

"I don't care who pays for my brother's death. I just want someone to pay," Audric said coldly, glaring at Pyotyr, "You owe me a debt, Pyotyr Ilych, and it's time you paid up."

Pyotyr sighed, "What do you want, Audric? I dont have much gil, but I'm about to head to sea. I'll earn plenty there, I'm sure, and I'll send you a share, I promi-"

"No, that would be too easy, Ilych," Audric answered, "You know what a life debt entails. A life for a life. And since Audren's already lost his..."

"Audric...?" Pyotyr found his words escaping him. Was he really going to die here, ilms from the sea that would have granted him his freedom?

"Jean. Bind his feet," Audric ignored him and nodded to the taller figure beside him, a fellow Elezen, Pyotyr judged by the name and stature. Jean, still masked, leaned down and took a coil of rope they must have had at their waist, winding it around his lower thighs. Pyotyr tried to widen his stance just a bit, but found them pushed roughly together by the street tough.

"And his hands," Audric spoke his next order. Pyotyr took a deep breath. If he was going to survive this, it had to be now. The Roegadyn had loosened his grip when Pyotyr had his coughing fit and hadn't tighted it again, so if he just...

"Oof!" The Roegadyn let out a grunt of surprise as Pyotyr's elbow caught him the chest, and staggered back a few steps as his hands dropped from Pyotyr's wrists.

His hands free, Pyotyr gropped at his belt. There is was, a boning knife tucked into his belt. The fools hadnt frisked him. Amateurs. As the Roegadyn hovered over him again, he gripped the handle of the knife tightly in one hand and drove backward. It easily pierced the fabric of his gauzy silk shirt to pierce the flesh beneath. Pyotyr yanked it back sideways, cutting a wicked red line across his captor's belly. The Roegadyn gasped in surprise and shock, stumbling back another few steps, and pitching over the edge of the pipe to splash into the deep water below.

"Dove!" The one called Jean cried.

A pet name? A Hellguard Name? Why think about that when you're fighting for your life, Pyotyr, he admonished himself, and as Jean rushed him with a scream of rage, he flipped the knife in his hand forward and slashed it at the Elezen, who, consumed in grief or rage at the wound done to their friend, hadnt even tried to approach on the defensive. The knife caught them across the forearm they had tried to swing at his head, and as they lost control of the swing and stumbled forward, Pyotyr stabbed them again in the side and leaned forward, hoisting them onto his shoulder, and then over it. They too fell over the side of the city without a sound.

"You... You..." Audric alone now stood a few feet from him, face twisted in a rictus of rage, tears now flowing down his face. Pyotyr in the meaning held his knife out defensively, desperately trying to wriggle out of the bonds around his feet without falling.

"Audric, be reasonable, I didn't want to do it, but I had to defend myself, enough people have died tonight-" Pyotyr's brain was racing at a thousand miles per hour as he tried to hold off his remaining attacker by any means possible, but Audric was beyond reason. With a scream, he rushed at Pyotyr, grabbing his knife arm, forcing Pyotyr to raise it above his head to protec the only defense he had left. His other arm, he hooked around Audric, trying to use him as an anchor, insurance to keep from pitching over the side.

The two men stood, struggling, poised that way on the lip of the pipe for a moment, before Audric screamed and pushed. Pyotyr yelled in return, tightened his own grip, and two fell together, down into the cold dark water.

Adrenaline, shock, call it what you will, but Pyotyr barely registered the feeling his body hitting the water, but he and Audric still sank together, Audric's eyes still flashing with anger as he now pushed down on Pyotyr, likely hoping to ensure his descent to a watery grave before he, free of binding, swam back to the surface.

Unfortunately, for Audric, he and Audren had only come from Ul'dah a few years prior, whereas Pyotyr had lived in Limsa Lominsa his whole life - and like most children of Limsa, his affinity for water was second only to the fish themselves. As Audric struggled to move, he quickly freed his knife arm, and just as quickly, bought it around to stab Audric in the back, once, twice, thrice. Audric's eyes widened in pain, as his strength quickly waved, quickly enough for Pyotyr to push him off. As they rapidly drifted apart, he felt his lungs burning, and with one final burst of energy, he managed to bring his legs up to his chest, close enough for his knife to cut through one rope, two - and the rest fell off his legs as the motion of his feet and the gentle current pulled them apart. Whoever Audric's friends were, they'd never learned to tie a good sailor's knot, or were too full of nervous energy to do so tonight. His legs free, he kicked his way back to the surface, taking in a deep gasping breath before quickly paddling to the nearest "shore," the small bit of rock and dirt barely a few feet across that seperated a few parts of the city walls from the sea itself.

As he pulled himself onto them and collapsed against the wall, the adrenaline wore off enough to bring the situation crashing down upon him.

He'd been kidnapped. Beaten up. Nearly killed. And he'd killed 3 people. There they were, their bodies floating in the harbor, blessedly hidden by the swiftly approaching dusk as they slowly but surely drifted out to sea.

"Fuck. FUCK," Pyotyr could only curse and shiver as the full weight came down on him. He shoulders been to shiver as he took large, heaving gulps of air, and the feel of great gouts of fire seemed to travel over his arms and his chest.

"Calm down, Pyotyr," he murmured to himself, "It was self defense. You tried... You tried to talk them down... You tried." He stuck the knife back in his belt. Patted himself down. Winced as he touched his side, his legs. He'd have a few bruises tomoorow, but he didnt feel any sprains, any breaks. Llymlaen... or Rhalgr, or Halone, or someone... had been with him tonight. There'd probably be stairs or a ramp back up to the city somewhere nearby. If he hurried, he could catch the Pomona before it weighed anchor. If he hurried...

How long would it take? How many years out at sea? Escaping the notice of the East Aldenard company for a botched robbery was one thing, but killing 3 people? Would the Yellowjackets find the bodies? Would they see him sneaking about? Would they believe it was self-defense? Even if they did, would they hand him over to the Uldahns for robbery anyway? What if he threw himself on the mercy of the courts? Maybe they'd let him off with a few years of hard labor. Surely, surely they'd show mercy on a son of Limsa Lominsa, right?

As he sat against the wall, head in his hands, a voice wafted down from the streets above.

Good riddance To all the thieves To all the fools that stifled me They've come and gone And passed me by

It was the voice of a bard, maybe even the same one from earlier. Singing the last verse of the song.

Maybe that was it. Audric, the fool. Audren, the thief. They were gone, and he remained. They were gone, and he remained.

That meant something. That meant something.

Shakily, he pulled himself to his feet,and crept along the side of the walls.

---

An hour later, he stood at one of the docks outside Mealvaan's gate, a dock occupied by a proud-looking brigantine, her figurehead a Roegadyn woman in a flowing robe carrying a bunch of grapes in one hand, a drinking horn in the other. At the gangplank stood a tall, grizzled Roegadyn Woman with short white hair, face covered in scars.

"Halt there, Lad. Declare yourself," She spoke, gruffly.

"Pyotyr Ilych, of Limsa Lominsa," He answered, coming to attention. Was this the captain? Would she even be impressed by a skinny, wastrel Elezen in sea-soaked peasants clothes? He wondered, but suppressed the nervous voice in his head for a moment, "I heard about your posting from the recruiter you sent to the Tipsy Sahagin. I'm here to join up."

The Roe woman now looked him up and down with a more appraising eye, "Alright, Ilych. You're a little damp, but otherwise, you look the part. So do ye act the part?"

Pyotyr nodded, "I used to go out on the fishing boats. I can rig a sail and tie a knot with the best of them. I can shimmy up a rope too, or over a wall. I can scrap with my fists or an axe if it comes to it. Even picked up a few cantrips from an arcanist mate I used to run with. I know my letters. I've cooked a little bit with my mother if you need someone for galley duty."

"Can ye abide by the wishes of the ship's assembly, and take orders from the captain or me to keep the ship yar in battle or harsh weather? Can ye learn to load a cannon and keep the powder safe and dry, and run it out to the gunners, hearty-like, if there comes need for it?"

"Aye, I swear, I can do all of that, I promise," Pyotyr answered, eagerly.

"And what about battle itself? Can you board an enemy ship, or repel boarders, with a stiff back and a courageous heart? If it comes down it, can you cut a man down to save your crewmate, or yourself?"

Pyotyr found himself freezing for just a moment. Again. He might have to do it again. Could he do it again? Did it matter?

"Y-Yes," He stammered, "I'll do whatever it takes. For gil, and for freedom."

The Roe raised one of her eyebrows slightly, but after a moment she nodded, "Alright. If you can do all that, you'll fit in here. I'm First Mate Slafsryswyn. It's late, so I'll just show ye to a spare hammock tonight, and you can meet the captain at first light. And I mean first light, we leave soon as the sun shows her pretty little face."

"Aye, Ma'am!" Pyotyr answered, trying to suppress a giddy giggle of relief, "Thank you Ma'am! I won't let you down!"

He'd made it. He could start over. He could escape. He could. Couldn't he?

"Welcome aboard the Pomona, Ilych," Slafsryswyn leaned over to slap him on the back and guide him up the gangplank.

[cruciferousjex]

CH 1 & 2 of Where She Sleeps because I feel like it

Tigress and Tai Lung find themselves stranded far from home, so they must learn to work together - before they tear each other apart. Takes place during the first movie. Adult! Content! Rated M!

ffn for the rest: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12440459/1/Where-She-Sleeps

Where She Sleeps

"It is not your destiny to defeat Tai Lung, it is his!"

-Master Shifu

Tigress regained movement in a sticker bush. Her muscles flickered to life twitch by twitch, until she felt her chest unlock and she drew breath through a freshly loosened jaw. She rolled over and hacked. She had landed face down, with her mouth open, so she'd spent the next three hours inhaling dust.

She rose and stumbled up the side of ledge where Tai Lung's strike sent her flying. At the last possible moment of the fight she'd lunged for him without an endgame in mind. In the three hours since she'd chastised herself harshly for this. Leaping without a plan directly into the strike range of a murderous giant was effectively suicide. Adrenaline and the desire to protect her friends caused her to act without thinking.

He tossed her above him. She flipped in the air and landed on his back, claws out. She sank them into his flesh and tore them out again, trying to do as much damage as possible before he murdered her. He roared - that sound, so close, shook her to the floor of her being. He tore her off him and jabbed his fingertip in her lower chest, hard. The next thing she knew she was flying frozen through the air, flung away from the ledge where her friends were surely dying.

She stumbled back to them. Her heart plunged into her stomach. She imagined having to tell Shifu the team was dead. The heartbreak in his eyes would destroy her - ah, but why worry about that when Tai Lung would kill her Master in the midst of destroying the Valley of Peace. If she didn't stop Tai Lung, instead of being destroyed by heartbreak in her Master's eyes she would be destroyed by having to bury him.

She stumbled faster towards her friends, her chest burning. Crane was a white pile of fluttering movement, his feathers jostled by the breeze - it was just the breeze, that was all, she was sure, but suddenly there was a larger movement and his wing lifted, then his head.

"Crane!" she tried to shout, but her lungs were full of dust. She sprinted and dropped to her knees beside him. "Are you all right?"

"I'll recover," he said. "They're alive."

"Are you sure?" Tigress checked on them. Frozen, but alive. "Do you know how to undo this?"

"I don't. Mantis might, but…" he gestured to Mantis, fraught with rictus.

"Can you fly?"

"Um. Yeah, nothing broken. Give me a minute." He gingerly put his hat back on.

"Take them home and warn Shifu. I'm going after Tai Lung."

He looked taken aback. "Tigress - "

"Crane, don't argue with me!" she snapped. "He must be stopped. Take them home."

She took off on all fours without looking back.

o

He was not hard to track, being so huge, but he was incredibly fast and had a three hour lead on her. She ran at speed, so if she did not find him soon she'd have to stop and rest for the night. No use finding him if she was too exhausted to fight him. As she ran she played endless scenarios in her head on how to exploit what few of his weakness Shifu had named.

Having finally fought him her terror for her home and her Master was magnified. She'd expected Tai Lung to be huge, fast, and strong, but she hadn't expected him to be that huge, that fast, that strong. When he leaned so casually on the broken bridge her insides went cold.

I cannot defeat him.

There was no use arguing the point. In the best of circumstances she might get close, but she was no match for his hitting power. One solid strike and the battle would turn from a real fight to a slow and sorry death spiral on her part. Her only chance for victory would be a surprise claw across the windpipe, if she could jump onto his back and execute the move with enough speed. It was a mercenary tactic with very little honor. She decided to be at peace with that.

After a long time she leapt up a tree to get a better view of the surrounds. Her brain saw him before she did, and she did a double take. Tai Lung, surveying the terrain on a nearby treetop of his own, looking as surprised as she felt. His surprise gave way to a smug grin. He gestured for her to follow and backflipped off the branch.

"Oh, you son of a -" Tigress said under her breath. Her heart pounded as she leapt to the ground.

He ran ahead of her - fast, so fast. He paused briefly before a cool white mist that obscured everything. He turned to glance at her and vanished into it.

That's right, run, Tigress thought, growling.

All sound stopped when she entered the mist. Her fur stood on end. The silence was so complete that her ears felt full, as they sometimes felt when she climbed a mountain. After another second sound returned to normal and she emerged into a green, rolling valley which she did not recognize, with lush fruiting trees and the beginnings of a beautiful sunset.

She scanned for Tai Lung. Nothing. Suddenly she was flying through the air. She crashed through a wooden fence and rolled into a vegetable garden. On the way her head hit a rock hard enough to stun her useless.

She hadn't even seen him. He snuck up on her before she'd gotten anywhere near him, much less his throat. That was a bad plan to follow through with considering her element of surprise was lost and the execution depended on it entirely. The day's exhaustion compromised her judgement, so now she would die in a bed of cabbage feeling stupid.

"How did you do it?" Tai Lung asked in a jarringly conversational tone. He leaned against a broken fence post and examined his claws.

"How did I do what?" Tigress muttered. There were two of him.

"How did you recover so quickly from my nerve attack? You should have been immobilized until Shifu released you."

She tried get into a defensive posture but her body refused to cooperate. A sharp ache cut through her skull and with it came a wave of nausea. She didn't reply.

He gave her a bored look.

"Perhaps it was my mistake. I'm out of practice. It's been twenty years, you see." He crouched down next to her, close enough for her to smell his fur, to look directly into his eyes. "Remind Shifu of that, will you? Twenty years." He gave a low, rumbling chuckle and lifted her chin with his index finger. "Have you even been alive that long, little thing?"

She knocked his hand away. "Don't toy with me," she spat. "Get it over with, you arrogant coward."

He growled. Rose his great paw to strike.

"Excuse me," came a pleasant voice.

Tigress and Tai Lung turned. The voice belonged to a tiny white lizard wearing a green and red checkered robe. It carried a small gold staff. The look in its gold eyes was both curious and disappointed.

"Who are you?" Tai Lung demanded.

"I am the owner of this vegetable patch you've wrecked," it said. "Couldn't have had your lover's spat elsewhere?"

Tai Lung chuckled. "Lover's spat? She's trying to kill - "

"Quiet," the lizard said softly and made a cutting gesture towards Tai Lung.

Tai Lung's voice stopped as though torn from his lungs. His hand rose gingerly to his throat.

"Thank you," the lizard said. "Now sit down, please. Not on a cabbage."

Tai Lung took two puppet-like steps away from a cabbage and fell soundly onto his behind, a look of bewildered horror on his face.

"What - what are you?" Tigress croaked at the creature, trying to back away.

The little lizard smiled as wisps of white light suddenly snaked around it, solidifying into the great golden crest and long tail of a dragon.

"I am a god," it said. "And you've destroyed my cabbages."

o

It dawned on Tigress that she might already be dead, seeing as what was happening here could not possibly be happening. Dragons did not exist. They could not drop a warrior like Tai Lung with a mere word, and they certainly did not grow cabbages or speak to her. Everything in her wanted to run, but her limbs were numb and heavy.

"These are my prize cabbages," the dragon said. "Thirteen hundred years I've been growing these! And now you've gone and torn them up. You, Spots, why are you picking on her?" He pointed at Tai Lung. "You ought to be nice to her, she's a nice girl.”

Tai Lung blinked, seemingly unsure if the dragon actually wanted an answer. He opened his mouth but his voice was still absent.

"You! Stripes!" it said, shaking its finger at Tigress. "Why do you chase him? Hm? You don't chase boys, they chase you. And what in the world are the two of you fighting about? This ridiculous - some sort of - scroll?" He cocked his head, as though listening through the ether for their history. After a moment he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Bunch of nonsense. You're willing to die for this? Mortals, always blithely throwing about that which should be most precious to them. I've never seen a sillier pair of cats," he tutted. "Now then."

It strolled between them, tapping its chin like a parent making a big show of deciding how to punish his naughty children. It considered them each in turn, and deeply. Tigress had the singular and violating sensation of her entire heart and mind being examined without her consent. She winced, her guts going cold.

Please don't hurt us, Tigress thought meekly.

The god glanced at her, hearing her thoughts. Smirked.

"Stop hurting each other," it commanded.

As it spoke bright white lines of energy crept out of their chests and crawled into it's upturned palm. As the energies reached it's hand they mingled together.

"You grow gardens, you do not destroy them. Understand?" It closed its palm and the glowing energy dissipated. It bent down and picked a dandelion. "Ugh, weeds. You do everything and they keep coming back. Now," it said to the two of them. "Be gone."

The god blew on the dandelion. Tigress felt a horrible tingling strangeness overcome her. Something hooked into her chest and yanked her into the wind, and into the black.

CH2

When she opened her eyes she lay on her back in a dense, snowy, and unfamiliar forest.

Wasn't it summer?

To her near left Tai Lung crouched. He looked up at the trees and gave a brief growl of disapproval. She shifted as she woke, crackling leaves under her. Tai Lung snarled and hit her with a nerve strike directly in the center of her chest. She seized up and froze.

Tai Lung followed suit.

He tipped over like a wooden doll, arm still extended, landing with a puff in the snow next to her. They stared at each other, physically unable to look away. His eyes were baffled and incredibly angry.

Tigress's mind raced. What happened? How did he freeze himself? Had the strike ricocheted somehow?

Did he know how to get out of this stasis? Surely he must, Shifu never taught anything less than complete technique. But how long would it take? And what would he do to her all alone in this forest? When he recovered he was sure to be very very upset. If she was lucky, he would just kill her quickly. If she wasn't her fate could be much, much worse.

After a few hours Tai Lung made a sound. It was deep, guttural, and distressing, especially coming from his frozen face. His chest stuttered. Movement rippled up his into his neck and muzzle. With an agonized groan he rolled his jaw open and slowly began to unclench himself. It looked painful, as though he was in a battle with his own musculature. He stopped to pant and curse a few times before finally regaining movement.

He shook it off then turned to look at her with a dark gaze that made her heart pound. He was deciding what to do with her. She wondered how many times she would be forced to ponder her fate today. He leaned into her with a low growl.

"Listen to me," he rumbled, close to her face. Tigress shuddered. "I'm going to release you now. Do not continue to be a pain. Are we clear?"

She could not speak or nod, but he accepted whatever was in her eyes. Quick as lightning he tapped a few points on her body. She came unclenched and rolled on her side, dry heaving into the snow.

"There's no way Shifu taught you nerve attacks, you're not nearly advanced enough," he said. "How did you reflect the strike back at me?"

"I didn't," Tigress croaked.

"You clearly did," Tai Lung said, growing impatient. "Tell me how!" he growled, grabbing her vest and baring his teeth in her face. Tigress gasped and smacked him hard across the mouth. To her confusion she felt a bright pain bloom in her jaw, tasted blood in her mouth.

Tai Lung roared and drew his arm back to strike her, his teeth stained red.

"Wait!" Tigress shouted, putting her hands up. He startled long enough for her to keep talking. "Just - just wait. Something's wrong."

He gave a brief questioning growl, arm still drawn back.

She gingerly extended her arm to him. "Scratch me."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Looking skeptical, he gave her a quick slice across the forearm. They both flinched. There were bright red cuts on both their arms.

"Wh- wh - what?" Tai Lung flustered. "What in the -?"

They looked at each other, equally baffled.

"What is this?" Tai Lung asked softly. "The work of that -that -"

"Dragon?"

"Dragon!" Tai Lung sputtered. "The - that wasn't -that couldn't have been - dragons aren't real!"

She grabbed at his wrist gauntlet. "Let me go."

"I told you not to be a pain," he snarled, giving her a hard jerk by her vest. "Are you ready to behave?"

She showed him the scratch on her forearm. "What choice do I have?"

He grunted, dropped her on the ground, and began to pace. They started at each other. When he looked at her she could see wheels turning in his head and she didn't like that.

"What do you suggest we do?" she asked.

"We? What's this 'we?' I'm returning to the Jade Palace to collect my scroll. You can feel free to do whatever it is you do."

She straightened. "What I do is stop you. You will not return to the Valley of Peace, Tai Lung."

Tai Lung rolled his eyes. "Do you have a death wish? Stop throwing yourself into my teeth!"

"Only now you cannot bite me."

Tai Lung's eyes widened.

"Anything you inflict on me will be inflicted on you. But I will not stop pursuing you."

"Fine! Chase me all you like! Who are you trying to impress?" he asked. His eyebrows raised. "No need to explain, I know all too well who you're trying to impress. I wonder what lies Shifu filled your head with, hm? The same lies he told me? Or did he cook up a new batch for my replacement?"

Tigress gave a low, warning growl.

"Oh what a sweet little rumble you make," he said, chuckling. "My dear, it's been a pleasure, but I must be on my way. Pursue me if you wish, but really, don't - I can tolerate a lot of pain and keep moving. Don't make me inflict it on the both of us. In the meantime - "

He poked her shoulders and breastbone. She immediately felt drippy and relaxed.

"That will slow both of us down," Tai Lung said, yawning. "But it will slow you down more. Happy hunting, little kitten."

Angered rippled through her. She hated being called kitten.

He gave a curt bow, then dashed off into the strange forest on all fours.

Tigress rose, wobbled a bit, and followed.

He was right. The strike did slow her down. She tried to keep up with him but she was soon overcome with the desire to find somewhere to curl up and nap. That compounded with the exhaustion she'd fairly earned meant Tai Lung gained ground and was quickly out of her sight. When she could run no more she climbed into a tree to rest. The stars burst into life above the canopy as she dusted snow off the thick branch she selected to sleep upon.

She got a look at her surroundings. There was not much to see. The forest gave way to a flat snowy plane, broken only by a road, forever off into the horizon. Far in the distance were flickering campfire lights. Nothing looked remotely family to her, not even the trees. She knew of no place anywhere near the Valley of Peace this unending and flat.

And snowing. In summer.

She moaned softly and rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted and this was more than she could properly consider. In the morning she would continue to pursue her insufferable quarry. He also had to rest and it was unlikely he was far. She put her head down on her arms to sleep.

When she woke it was still dark and she knew with every inch of her body that Tai Lung was two and a half miles directly southeast. She felt him the way one feels an oncoming storm. In a sort of fugue, without stopping to think about it, she leapt down from her branch and began walking towards him. Her footsteps were loud in the snow. He would hear her coming. But he already knew she was coming. She felt him know it. She felt him turn to come meet her.

She came to a clearing just as he stepped out of the opposite side. As soon as she saw him her fugue evaporated and she didn't remember making the conscious choice to seek him out. Yet here she was.

He was a hulking silhouette, lit only by moonlight and the glowing gold of his eyes. They stared one another down, but the intimidation was tinged with mutual bafflement. To her surprise Tai Lung spoke first.

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you?"

They were both silent for a long moment, Neither of them knew.

"Well," he said. "What now?"

"What?"

"What's your end game, dear?"

"My end game is stopping you."

"Yes you've told me," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm curious how. You can't strike me without inflicting pain on yourself, and apparently you can't sneak up on me. So what's your plan?"

"I can kill you painlessly," Tigress said. "Silently."

"No you can't."

"How do you know?"

"Try," he replied darkly.

Tigress growled.

"Don't growl at me, you're the one making threats."

"Fine. Since you are so wise, what's your end game?"

"I'm going back to the Jade Palace for my scroll."

"It will never be your scroll."

"That remains to be seen," he said smoothly. "But it's certainly not yours. You're no Dragon Warrior."

Tigress took a sharp breath. Growled.

He chuckled. "I'm bored with growls. What else have you got?"

She clenched her fists and began to circle him. He watched her, amused.

"I see," he said. "Yes yes, get yourself a nice good view. I don't mind. I'll even help you." He lifted his arms slightly and turned for her, flicking his tail. "Any ideas?"

Tigress was quiet.

He smirked over his shoulder. "I'm waiting."

She did not answer. He faced her and looked her up and down.

"What's your name?" he asked. "Or shall I keep calling you little kitten?"

She turned on her heel and stalked off into the dark forest.

"Giving up already?" he called after her, laughing. "Very wise, little kitten! Very wise."

o

She kept walking for a long time. She eventually stopped at another sleeping tree but could never sleep for all her seething. Instead of climbing into it she punched the base of it, flipped and kicked at it, tore at the bark with her claws. Everything she would have liked to do to his stupid smug insufferable princely face.

I'll smack that underbite right back into place, Tigress thought, punching the tree. I'll be your dentist.

She thought suddenly of the panda.

She punched the tree hard.

He was pointing at me, Tigress broiled. Oogway was pointing at me. I know it. Shifu knows it.

She turned and kicked the tree with the back of her heel.

If I defeated Tai Lung I would PROVE it.

Swiped her claws across the trunk, digging deep trenches in the wood.

But instead I'm stuck out here - wherever THIS is -

She took a few steps back, panting, clenching her fists. She flew at the tree, extended her leg in midair -

With HIM!

She hit the tree. It wobbled for a moment, creaked, and with a great crash came down. Tai Lung probably heard it. Good! She hoped he heard it. Maybe if she kicked down a tree on top of his big flat head she could kill him that way.

Not knowing what else to do she started walking in the direction of the road she'd seen. Throughout the night she kept walking until she hit that same boundary of two and a half miles, then she suddenly knew Tai Lung's location and felt compelled to turn around and head back to him.

"Stupid dragon curse," Tigress muttered, and forced herself to stand still. She may not be able to move forward but she could wrest enough control of herself to not walk all the way back to him every time she pinged off his aura. Once she no longer felt him she rose to her feet and got on her way.

Eventually she hit a wall she could not pass. He must have stopped to rest. She turned in his direction. Perhaps she could creep back to him and deliver that painless silent death in his sleep?

She sighed. Her shoulders sagged. She simply did not have the energy, and truth be told she had no clue how she would do it.

"Goodnight, you dumb beast," she muttered, found a branch, and slept.

o

The next morning they both emerged from the forest onto the windy plain at the same time. He was perhaps a mile away, a hulking figure the size of her pinkie. He gradually grew larger as he came towards her.

"Good morning!" he called.

Tigress didn't return the greeting. She stood with her side to him, a defensive posture. He stopped about ten feet from her.

"Do you have any food?" he asked politely.

Tigress was taken aback. "Where would I be keeping food?"

Tai Lung shrugged. "You look like a girl who might have some cookies on her."

She blinked. "Are you…calling me fat?" she asked incredulously.

"No!" Tai Lung replied. He grinned toothily. "I'm calling you sweet."

She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow.

Tai Lung frowned.

"Now listen, there's some sort of walled fortress in that direction," he pointed towards the horizon. "It's a few hour's walk down the road. That's the best bet for food. I'm hungry, you're hungry, we're hungry, we'll both go there, we'll walk together. Come on," he said. He gestured for her to follow and stalked off.

"I'm not sure who you think you are barking orders at me," Tigress replied.

"I don't think I'm anyone!" he snapped. "Did you plan on heading somewhere else?" he asked, gesturing to the barren white plain. "We're going the same direction. We both need food and there is food!" He jabbed his hand at the horizon. "We can walk together or we can walk two and a half miles apart. Your choice."

"I'll take two and a half miles apart," Tigress growled. She turned to walk away from him.

"Oh, come on!" Tai Lung cried.

She kept walking.

"What are we going to do, walk at a distance all the way back to the Jade Palace?"

She shook her head. He started following her.

"I'm not asking much," he said. "Do you know what it's like to go twenty years without speaking to anyone?"

Tigress spun to face him. "If you are so concerned about speaking to people then perhaps you should have thought about that before you destroyed the Valley of Peace!" she snapped. "I have nothing to say to you! My only purpose is to stop you!"

"Stop me from what?"

"From taking the dragon scroll!" she shouted.

"Well I don't see any dragon scrolls out here, do you?" he shouted back.

They stared at one another. After a long moment Tigress sighed heavily and started walking towards the road.

"Fine!" she said. "Fine. Walk where you want. But I don't want to talk to you."

Tai Lung made an exasperated sound but remained quiet. They crunched through the snow.

"At least tell me your name."

"You made it a whole three minutes!"

"Well what am I supposed to call you?"

"Nothing! You aren't going to speak to me!"

Tai Lung raised his chin, crossed his arms and fluttered his eyelids, imitating her. "I'm not sure who you think you are barking orders at me," he said.

"Seriously?"

"That's how you sound."

"Yes. I understood what you were doing there."

"Oh, have a sense of humor!"

"Stop telling me not to have - or to have - or - just stop talking to me!" She stalked off ahead of him, frustrated at how easily he made her lose her composure.

"Goodness, what splendid company you are. Maybe it would be better if we did kill each other. Only we can't."

"Maybe I'll hire someone."

He gave her a withering look. "Oh. Oh right, little kitten. Who are you going to hire to kill me? Oogway? Here, Oogway. Here's ten gold and a picture of the guy."

"I - " Tigress began a retort, but found herself distracted by the image he painted of Oogway as a hitman. She cracked a tiny bit, gave the smallest breath of a laugh. His expression brightened upon seeing this.

She shook off her amusement. "Don't call me little kitten," she said.

"If you'd tell me your name - "

"Quiet!" she shouted, and sped up her pace. To her relief he respected her wishes and did not speak to her the rest of the morning, though she felt his eyes on her constantly. Finally they approached the fortress.

"The gates are open," Tai Lung remarked. "That's good. Probably a peaceful place."

Carriages and traders, most of which came from the opposite direction, entered and exited freely. Tigress and Tai Lung strolled in without incident, and with no one stopping them. The fortress walls encircled a long low hill, on which was a huge city of yurts. Yaks walked by with embroidered coats, along with goats and long haired sheep. A bear or two. They faced a long row of traders and cook-shops, beyond which more yurts rose up on the small hill, at the top of which was a huge tent bearing differently colored flags. The smells of foreign food and the sounds of a foreign language drifted in the air.

"This is Mongolia," Tai Lung said softly. "We're in Mongolia."

Tigress's heart, which until that moment was full of fury and hope, fizzled down into her stomach like a feather in a rainstorm.

"We're in Mongolia!" Tai Lung growled through clenched teeth. The fur on his shoulders bristled. Tigress could feel anger pouring off of him.

"Tai Lung," she said warningly.

"Do you know what that means?" he seethed at Tigress.

She put her hands up in a calming gesture. "Tai Lung."

"That means - that means - " he sputtered and panted. "That means it'll take years - YEARS! - to get back to the Valley of Peace!" he roared. Startled passerby scurried away. He heaved and snarled. His pupils went narrow and his claws came out. It was like seeing a bomb seconds before detonating. Tigress nearly took a step back. She began to grow afraid that, in his rage, he might destroy this yurt city the same way he destroyed the Valley of Peace.

"Tai Lung -"

He gave a snarling growl. Her eyes widened. She thought suddenly of Shifu.

"Tai Lung, FOCUS!" she barked.

"I am focused!" he barked back, but in turning his attention to her his emotional momentum broke. He began to stalk back and forth but at least he breathed, and some sort of selfhood returned to his eyes. He shook his head, growling softly.

"Listen. Tai Lung, listen." Tigress said. "Let's eat something."

"I don't want to eat something," he grumbled, sounding like a petulant child.

"I'm not happy about this either. But we both need food, and there is food," she said, jabbing her hand at the lane of cook-shops.

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Then another.

"I don't have any money," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't have any money!"

"Fine!" Tigress said. "I do. Now come on," she said. She started towards a noodle stand and gestured for him to follow.

"If I ever find that dragon again I'll kill him," Tai Lung seethed.

"You can't kill a god," Tigress replied.

"I absolutely can kill a god. I am the Dragon Warrior."

Tigress rolled her eyes. "How about you kill a bowl of noodles first?"

"I will murder a bowl of noodles," he grumbled.

o

They ate in silence. Tigress finally began to process her shock. It might be years until she saw her Master or her friends again. She was stuck in Mongolia - Mongolia! - with a huge psychotic hellbeast she could neither kill, maim, nor abandon. Her fate suddenly seemed very grim indeed. She watched him as he ate, feeling surreal.

Tai Lung finished his noodles and stared down into his empty bowl.

"Thank you for the meal," he said, calmer now that he was fed. "I was very hungry."

She nodded. They sat in silence for a long time, watching the city's people go abut their daily business. Her mind raced.

"You know, some very strange things have happened in my life," Tai Lung said quietly. "But nothing like this."

She shook her head.

"Were you aware that there's a god living off the Thread of Hope?" he asked.

"A god that grows cabbages," Tigress replied. "What kind of god grows cabbages?"

"And he was a tiny god! When I think of a god, I think big. Imposing."

"He was imposing," Tigress said quietly.

They sat in silence for another while, watching families stroll by and traders do business.

"Shall l I be the bigger man, then?" Tai Lung finally asked.

"What?"

"We've broken bread together. I propose a truce."

She crossed her arms. "I don't know how much of a truce I can have with someone like you."

"Someone like me? You don't know a thing about me."

"I know enough."

"I'm sure you think you do. I'm sure Shifu told you plenty."

"Oh he did," Tigress lied.

"Whatever he said, I promise you it was only half the story."

"Your half of the story ends in mass murder and the destruction of my home," Tigress said. "Why would I want to hear it?"

He scowled at her. "Because in it are some things you might be interested to know about the man you call your Master."

"I know enough. I know you aren't fit to speak his name."

"I'll speak his name all I like. But that is beside the point."

"Then what's the point?"

"The point is, without a truce, we'll just end up going in a two and a half mile wide circle hoping the other gets caught in an avalanche or dies in battle," he said.

"An avalanche?" she asked. "On a plain?"

"I -" Tai Lung began. He shook his head. "No - I mean - you know what I mean."

"I really don't. How would that happen?"

"Stranger things have happened. Stranger things happened yesterday. Stranger things may very well continue to happen, and we are best off facing them together. We should at least attempt to be friendly."

"Oh I'm sure you'd like that," she replied. "I'm sure you'd like to be friendly with me after twenty years in prison."

He rolled his eyes. "Why do pretty women always think so highly of themselves? Don't be deluded, little kitten. I in no way desire this or you. This is a very unwanted setback and you are sour company for such a long journey. But we don't have to like each other. All we need to do is cooperate and we can both manage to get back to the Valley of Peace one day."

She bristled. "The Valley of Peace? Try Chorch-Gom."

Tai Lung shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

"If you can think of a better plan, given the current…" he gestured back and forth between them "…whatever this is, I'd like to hear it."

Tigress looked down at her empty bowl.

"No," she admitted softly. "I don't see any way around it."

"Then it's agreed." He extended his hand. "Truce."

She paused for a moment. She did not take his hand. Instead she saluted him, fist to palm, as they did at the Jade Palace. He accepted this and returned the salute.

"Thank you. Now will you please tell me your name?"

"My name is Tigress."

"Your given name, not your rank title."

She scowled. "Tigress is my given name."

"Your parents named you Tigress? How unoriginal."

"No, the matrons at Bao Gu named me Tigress."

"The orphanage?"

"Yes."

"Oh I see!" Tai Lung huffed. "So I'm off to prison and Shifu immediately starts trawling the Valley of Peace for his next Dragon Warrior orphan! Got right back to it, did he?"

"No. It didn't happen that way at all."

"Fine, then how did it happen?"

"None of your business!" she snapped.

He growled at her. She growled back. All the people in their immediate surrounds grew quiet and scampered away, giving a wide berth to the two clawed and fanged killing machines that may or may not be about to fight in their presence. The proprietor of the noodle stand scolded them loudly in Mongol. He pointed away from his store.

"We're off to a splendid start," Tai Lung muttered.

"We don't have to like each other, all we have to do is cooperate," Tigress said, standing. "Don't get used too used to me buying you lunch. I didn't bring enough money to cover being blasted into Mongolia by a dragon. We'll need a lot of supplies for a journey this long."

He looked skeptical. "You're suggesting we stay here? And … what? Find jobs? Should I ask the noodle man if he's hiring?"

"I'm not sure how else one gets money."

Tai Lung rolled his eyes. "In such circumstances as these, one doesn't bother with money. One silently takes what one needs in the night and leaves quickly."

Tigress looked at him with disgust. "You can't just resort to theft every time things don't go your way."

"Yes, in fact, I can," Tai Lung said. "No one here can stop me. Or you, for that matter."

"'Because they can't stop me' is not a good reason to rob innocent people."

"No, getting back home within our lifetimes is a good reason to rob innocent people. Do you have any idea how long it will take to earn the kind of money you're talking about?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Yes. I just made it."

"No. If you want to be a lazy coward go right ahead. I'll let the entire city know what you're up and then sit right down like an anchor. All you'll be able to do with the supplies you steal is orbit this place as a criminal. With that kind of visibility I'm certain a decent Mongolian archer can get an arrow through your eye eventually. So go ahead. Please. Rob the city and take yourself out for me. It would be the first good thing that's happened since we met."

Tai Lung stared at her. He slowly rose to his feet and came close to her, his eyes never leaving hers. When she was sure he would stop he kept walking, stepping directly into her space. He came close enough that she could hear him breathe, hear the air fill his massive chest. 

She could smell him. He smelled like wind and fur and something else. 

Something delicious.

This threw her entirely.

"What - what are you doing?" she demanded.

He reached behind her. She heard a piece of parchment ripped off a post. Tai Lung wordlessly held it up for her to see.

"What is it?" she asked, still startled by his scent, his closeness.

"It's a flyer for a prizefighting tournament," he said, pointing to a pair of figures depicted battling in a ring.

Tigress rolled her eyes. "You're just determined to do this by underhanded means, aren't you?"

"What's underhanded about it? It's an honest competition."

"A master of your level fighting total amateurs is not an honest competition. Oogway always held that it's an affront to the spirit of kung fu to fight for money at all."

"I could not care less for Oogway's opinion on the matter," he growled. "That turtle has been senile for at least three hundred years. You are being irrational. If you want to spend the next year cleaning yurts so we can afford to leave Mongolia, be my guest. In a few hours I'll have more money than we can carry out of here."

She crossed her arms. "Will you? Have you ever competed in a prizefighting tournament before?"

"Of course not! I was a good boy. No prizefights, no wine, no gambling, no girls. To earn the Dragon Scroll one must be utterly perfect. So I was utterly perfect."

"Except that one time."

He cast her a dark look. He leaned in close, close enough that with a mere jerk of his chin he could kiss her.

"You have a smart mouth," he said softly. "Did Shifu train you to have a smart mouth?"

She lifted her chin and met his eyes, defiant. She did not give a reply, though she knew she had a good one. Something about the combination of his eyes and closeness and scent thickened the air between them so much she could barely breathe.

His gaze fell to her mouth. Something flashed in his eyes.

Desire.

Her eyes widened. It was unmistakable and filled her with … something. Like fear but … not quite.

Tai Lung shut his eyes and shook his head. Straightened and stepped away.

"Do as you wish," he said. He shook the flyer at her, raised his eyebrows, and stalked off into the city.

"All right," Tigress replied absently, but he couldn't hear her. She couldn't quite think straight. It was though her head had floated away from her body. She shook the haze off, came back to herself. What strange thing overcame her when she saw the look of hunger in his eyes?

Tigress startled. That desire should have been an awful thing to see. She should have found it repellent. But she didn't.

She wanted to see it again.

o

CH 3

She put the notion firmly out of her mind and attempted to locate the tournament hall. It took her over an hour and a half to find. It was not, as she assumed, taking place at the huge tent in the center of the fortress. It seemed that was a residence, and an opulent one at that - at least what little she saw before the barely clad, bejeweled womanservant, a sleek black panther, sent her on her way.

Her near-nakedness startled Tigress. She rang with it as she scurried away down the lane. People in China were proper, they didn't just flash themselves about all … openly. She'd just seen more of that woman than she'd likely ever seen of anyone. How in the world did she move around in an outfit like that?

She's not there to fight, Tigress thought, but the thought came in Tai Lung's voice. She winced and kept moving....

more ch3: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12440459/3/Where-She-Sleeps