#that desire rises to the absolute surface and everything else is below | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drxwsyni · 3 years

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show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you.

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons.

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black.

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuuta #yandere yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #tw choking #tw stalking #tw virginity loss

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raendown · 3 years

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Just crawling out of my hole real quick to say that no one else used that stupid prompt generator they apparently wanted for @madatobiweek so I did it myself. The one I pulled was “blood”.

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2500 Rated: T+ Summary: If he thought really hard about it Madara still wasn’t sure if he would be able to remember what it felt like to live.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

And All That I Loved, I Loved Alone

If he thought really hard about it Madara still wasn’t sure if he would be able to remember what it felt like to live. The freedom to run, the touch of grass under his feet, the taste of anything that wasn’t plain gruel with its minimum basic nutrients, it was strange how easily the memories faded. Then again, he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been here so who was he to say how quickly memories of his previous life should fade? All he knew and all he cared about was that Tobirama had been gone for three winters now.

This would mark the fourth when it came. Standing in line to receive his morning bowl of slop, Madara cast his eyes to what little sky he was allowed to glimpse and tried to remember the color of the eyes that used to watch him in the night. Red, of course, but what shade? What forgotten fruits and gems had he compared them to when they danced in the glow of torchlight? The air was growing cold again, frost gathering on the manacles that held him in place to sleep at night, and already Madara couldn’t recall the feeling of warm fingers pulling him close. Precious memories and they too were fading. Like so many of the others here liked to say, there wasn’t anything this place would not take from you. Some of the men who’d been worked until their fingers were little more than bone had even forgotten their own names. Madara once vowed to never let himself fall in to that state but without Tobirama everything here was so much harder and after waiting for so long he’d begun to wonder if maybe it hadn’t all been a fantastical dream.

Had he imagined the soft touches, the hoarsely whispered promises? To ask would be to risk knowing.

Several spaces ahead in line, a woman fell, body sagging and crumbling to the side. Her bowl clattered as it rolled away across the rocky ground. Madara stepped around her with everyone else as the line continued onwards, implacable, undeniable. Eventually someone would come to take the body away; he could only hope they got around to it before she bloated and filled the whole area with the stench of rot. Their unwashed bodies were stench enough - or so he’d been told by the latest additions to his work team. Madara couldn’t remember what the world smelled like away from unwashed bodies and the scent of burning metal.

They were building something, that much he knew, but asking questions generally resulted in losing blood and if there was one thing Madara had kept of himself it was that he was a very fast learner. He watched and he learned to keep his mouth shut. He observed and he learned that the guards were unkind to those who met their eyes. He listened and he learned that there really was no way out of this place.

Maybe he’d imagined it after all. No one had ever escaped this prison, that’s what everyone said. And if no one ever escaped then either his dying mind had crafted the illusion of Tobirama to keep him sane or the man had indeed once been real only to die in making his attempt at the impossible. Madara closed his eyes, shuffling along with the slowly moving line. He supposed it didn’t matter what the truth was. Whatever the case, Tobirama was not here and Madara felt the lack of him in every cell of his body. The few memories of imagining that were left to him were precious, hoarded like secrets to be remembered in the night and soothe him to sleep, dreaming of places his waking mind could never conceive of. Giving up on those little bits of himself were all that kept him from becoming like the wraiths that gibbered in their cells at night and cackled as their bloody hands worked the mines day after day, rattling the air around them with insanity like a siren calls a sailor to their doom. No, Madara was hopeless but he was not quite ready to give in to that.

Eventually. Some day. He knew his fate just as everyone here learned at some point. If they didn’t die from the lack of sun where their prison was sunk just below the earth’s surface then the exhaustion of their daily labors would do it. Madara couldn’t say what they were building, that wasn’t for someone like him to question, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. They could be constructing absolutely nothing just for the sake of punishment and it would all be the same to them, collapsing at the end of every day covered in sweat and dirt and their own filth. Endless cycles that began the day they arrived and ended long after forgetting that they had not always been here. Madara himself struggled to so much as envision a world outside of this place, let alone recall who he might have been, all the places he might have seen. Was Madara even his true name? Only the past would ever know.

Shouting from one of the farther encampments rose suddenly and Madara ducked his head low in time with everyone else. Any show of interest in whatever was causing such a commotion would be taken as a desire to get involved, something that would no doubt lead to punishment. Everything led to punishment here. It took breaking and reforging in to a shell of shattered pieces to go even one full day without punishment and that was only if you didn’t count their daily labors as a punishment unto itself. The entire line of prisoners before and after him bowed their heads, eyes on their own filthy toes, watching the cold dust rise as they shuffled along in search of food.

When the noise drew closer Madara wasn’t the only one to squeeze his eyes shut as though hoping he could disappear in to the shadows until whatever nonsense was happening had passed over them. The line moved and he moved with it. Foreign sounds echoed off the rough hewn walls around them but the only thoughts in his mind were reserved for prayers that Cell Block Fourteen would not be denied their morning meal for someone else’s stupidity.

A flash of light made him flinch away on instinct. Long burns scars on his back had taught him years before to be wary of anyone bearing torchlight. Then it flashed again and he realized it wasn’t dancing the way a flame should. The anomaly was enough to light a spark of curiosity in him that should not still have the energy to live, canting his head in time to watch something rise and fall, catching the light as it did, something long and shining. Not creating light but reflecting it. Madara watched it rise again and the curiosity was there, if dull, to wonder at the dark substance that sprayed from its tip. Strange, he could have sworn there was nothing to dull that shine the first time it raised. The prisoner in front of him stepped forward and Madara drew his eyes away. Not his business. He knew better than to look, he scolded himself.

Tobirama would have looked.

It was this thought that left him open and vulnerable to a scream that shook him down to his core, different from the others because this one was close enough to reverberate through his skull, real in a way he couldn’t escape when he looked round a second time just fast enough to watch a long blade slide through flesh and bone to come out stained on the other side, cold steel parting the crest of the guards’ uniform. He wasn’t the only one who looked. Suddenly the screaming was all around him as the line scattered and Madara was just slow enough to get knocked to the ground, nearly trampled in the stampede of terrified prisoners.

Somehow it was even more frightening from here where the constant thunder of flight knocked him back again and again, unable to regain his feet and unwilling to let his head be crushed. Madara rolled back and forth, dodging the flying limbs as best he could, and counted the new bruises on his legs out of sheer habit. At least these came without the price of blood. He’d had worse. Still, he was glad when there finally came a break in the rush, just enough space for him to roll his feet underneath him and stand. He stood to see a new world descending on the one that had subsumed him more years ago than he knew how to count.

Flashes of steel drew the eyes in too many directions at once. Blood sprayed through the air, stained the dirt and the walls and the heavy armor that marched inexorably forward. Prison guards lay dead and dying in broken heaps. One of them had been pinned to a wall by a long polearm weapon and Madara was morbidly fascinated to see the body thrashing against its own will. Good, he thought distantly, now they will know the pain we felt at their hands.

And then. Oh and then.

There he was.

Limned in golden torchlight with a face as implacable as the tides themselves he came, sword in hand, steel in his eyes. Madara knew those eyes. Had looked for them when his world was darkest and dreamed of them when all hope had left him. Had clung to the memories even as they warped and faded. Oh but he knew those eyes and the voice that roared beneath them. Three years apart had put muscle and flesh upon his bones, filled out the body now cased in metal, but Madara would have known him by the corner of an elbow glanced around a corner.

Tobirama had come. Promises whispered in the dark made real.

For all the chaos around him and the occasional body that tossed him from side to side Madara could do nothing but stand utterly still and watch as Tobirama cut a path through the bodies in front of him like they were nothing but chaff and shadows, white skin stained as red as his eyes and entirely unbothered by the death he wrought. The sword he carried rose and fell, swooped and slashed, death in the form of a dance, and Madara could not imagine that anything more beautiful could exist in any world. If there were a god then surely they had chosen this man as their avatar on earth, the instrument of their will. In every direction prisoners panicked and guards called out the alarm but in those moments as he watched the rebirth of his own dreams Madara knew safety for the very first time.

He realized that he might by his very refusal to move stand out from the writhing chaos around them only when he felt a hand close around his throat and a fire he hadn’t known was still there inside him flickered to life. Embers long buried coughing away the dust of imprisonment, both hands coming up to pull at the fingers choking him in a protest he would not have had the strength for only an hour before. Now was different. Now when his eyes fell closed against the fading air in his lungs he knew there was something to fight for, scrabbling and kicking with withered limbs, gnashing teeth when a second hand came around to cover his mouth. The taste of blood was a triumph he hadn’t known in so long he nearly stopped moving just to savor it.

As the world turned hazy it occurred to him that this might be the end and the thought was not a terrible one despite his instincts to fight. The awakening desire to live. So long he had spent in the darkness, so much time alone and uncertain, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that an end like this would be anything but a victory. Did he not have vindication? Proof that Tobirama was real, alive, that everything they shared had been as true as he remembered in the dreams that gave him warmth through the frosted nights? At least he would die with a kernal of happiness fluttering in his belly like something forbidden. One last grand rebellion to the ones that had made him so miserable for who even knew how many years.

Oxygen rushed back down his throat so fast he nearly choked on that as well when the hands upon him fell away. Madara coughed through the taste of dust and blood, stumbling back until his eyes could focus again and then struggling to clear his mind, to understand what he was seeing. Shining silver and dripping red. Fear and shock and some instinctual plea for mercy all twisted together in an ugly grimace as the guard who dared to touch him spent his death throes on the point of a steady blade. When the body fell it was gone from his mind as easily as that. What could ever possibly hope to hold his attention with a face like that staring back at him with such adoration?

“You came,” Madara croaked, voice hoarse with disuse and thick with emotion.

“Did I not promise?” Ah but Tobirama’s voice had always been a honeyed rumble, a caress upon the ear like nothing else. Time and distance had only made his tones all the sweeter.

His fingers were gentle, even encased in steel as they were, but even if he had been rough and unthinking Madara would have fallen in to his arms just as easily. Because he had indeed promised and he was here now keeping that vow. Keeping the dreams they had spun together alive, weaving new possibilities with nothing but his steady and undeniable presence.

Trust was not something easily come by in this place where only pain existed. It had been three long years since Madara knew what trust could feel like, the taste of absolute certainty that he could rely on anything but his own efforts. He knew it again now, after three long and endless years, resting his weight fully against Tobirama’s chest and closing his eyes. Chaos strained and flowed around them. Death rang out in echoes that flickered back against themselves over and over and over. Madara knew none of it. His world had been darkness, despair, and desperation, had been struggle, sorrow, and strife, and all of it had been worth it now to feel the arms that circled his waist and pulled him in close, the hand that cradled his neck like something so very, very precious. Tobirama had come. Whatever came after they would face it together again as they had before and that was all Madara could ever - would ever - need.

In the darkness where once he expected to die Madara learned again what it was to live.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #medeival au #sort of??#fanfiction

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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June Prompt #2- Carpe Diem

A POINT OF NO RETURN FLASHBACK

A/N: Shh. It’s still June. Couldn’t leave past Clara and Ezra in the past, so here is another flashback from those three happy years on the farm before everything fell apart. This is closer to the three year mark in the PoNR timeline. I loosely based the stream behind Clara’s farm on the photo below- it’s one I took a few years back at Enfield Falls in NY. (The darker parts right under the small waterfalls are the deeper pools)

Request: “skinny dipping” from @cannedsoupsucks

WC: 1.6k

Warning: oh just a little hint of zesty times. can’t really skinny dip without those.

Seasons turned quickly on Kamrea.

The Thulian harvest spanned only three weeks before the rains came, soaking the land and raising the water level in the streams. After the month-long deluge, there was a blip in the weather patterns lasting anywhere from a few days to a week or two when the combination of the planet’s position and the clarity of a sky scrubbed clean of clouds made for breathtaking views. During that indeterminate window, the Vernal Star was at its brightest, giving the world a golden yellow glow, but the cerulean hued ocean planet Lao and its moon Brizo were also visible to the naked eye, and at certain times of day the light refracting off of Lao’s waters made the whole sky flash green. When the winter came it did so in a hurry, too, sweeping in under the dim purple light of the Hibernal Star, flash freezing the fields and orchards, and turning the Lakelands to ice. Snow flurried lazily for a fortnight or so and melted before it ever added up to an inconvenient amount. Before long the rotation of seasons was pivoting back towards planting and tending and time to get to work before the harvest crept up again.

To an outsider, someone who hadn’t grown up there, life on Kamrea might easily seem rushed, stressful. Clocks ticked and calendar pages filled with Xs as Kamreans bustled along to keep with their constantly shifting time constraints and limitations. Nothing lasted long, and if you blinked you could miss things like the malachite color of the spring starshine bouncing off the waves on Lao or the iridescent glow Brizo gave off, even the faint but sweet smell in the air that signaled the beginning of the Thulian growing season, and you would have to wait an entire year for another chance.

But to those who had spent enough time there, whether they grew up on the fertile planet like Clara or had transplanted themselves on Kamrean soil as Ezra had done, the pace and rigidity of the seasons wasn’t something to fight or fear. Instead it was a constant reminder that life was happening now, not later, that there was beauty in catching a moment that was meant to be fleeting, in appreciating small slices of time. Each day came with the potential to see or hear or feel something never experienced before, and the potential to miss those moments seemed only to invigorate the Kamrean philosophy of making every moment count.

Which is precisely what I am doing.

Ezra looked up between the branches of the crater-oak that the swing he and Clara occupied hung from, at the thunderhead that had been gathering in the sky over the last hour or so. Kamrea was about to experience one of those split-second switches, where it would cease to be Harvest season with the first raindrop to plummet from the fat-bellied clouds. Any minute, they and the fields and the barn and the town over the hills and everything else on this side of the globe would be caught in a deluge and soaked to the bone, to the roots, to the bedrock. He moved his arm from the backrest of the wooden swing to wrap around Clara’s waist, hand resting at her hip.

Any minute now.

Looking back down at Clara, he saw that she had taken her eyes off of the rippling stream that the swing was situated on the bank of, and turned her attention skyward as well. What little daylight that hadn’t been squeezed out by the clouds and managed to make it down through the foliage lit the profile of her face in clean, green-tinted hues and he briefly wondered if other people felt this level of awe and devotion when they were with the one they cared about most in life, or if this was unique to the two of them. If they don’t then I truly pity them.

He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed, the small motion one he had seen her do countless times before but still always bringing a flush of warmth to his chest. “End of another season.” She gave him a smile that quirked to one side, a mixture of pride and nostalgia and love for her farm twinkling in her eyes to make her face light up more than the leaf-filtered, cloud strangled starshine could. Oh, look at you, my Clara. Her tongue poked out then to wet her lips, and she stood from the swing, both of her hands clasping around the one of his that had been at her waist to pull him to his feet. “We should get inside before it starts coming down, or we’ll be soaked.”

We certainly will be, that’s correct.

“I think that you are absolutely right, Huckleberry.” Ezra took his turn to smirk then, catching her completely off guard as he stood only to use her own grips on his much larger hand against her. Pulling back, he yanked her into his arms, the second one swiftly enveloping her to make sure she was tucked tightly against his body, and then he jumped from the bank into the stream, plunging them both into one of the naturally formed deep pools at the base of one of the stream’s small cascades. Clara’s surprised gasp of his name devolved into a laughing shriek as their clothing suctioned to their skin, their hair dripping in their eyes, rivulets of cool, clear liquid running down their cheeks.

The pool that he had jumped into was shaped like a circular basin, cut and carved by the force of the water spilling over the tiered rocks that brought the upper level of the stream to meet the level at the bank. It wasn’t rushing with extreme force now due to the dry harvest season, but once the rains came and filled the stream past its bursting point, the water would fall in relentless torrents that over centuries had created a deeper pocket in the streambed, an ephemeral pool that was currently deep enough for both of them to be submerged when he jumped, but still shallow enough for him to be able to touch the bottom.

He set his feet down, thankful that the two of them had kicked their shoes off before sitting on the swing, both pairs still dry under the tree, and Clara wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms winding around his neck as his hands bolstered beneath the pockets of her denim shorts. Her eyes were still wide with shock, her lips wide in a laughing grin, and her sopping wet ponytail sprayed him with droplets as she shook her head. “Ezra! What are you- why did you do-”

Before she could get a full question out, ripples started appearing on the surface of the water, a slow pattering sound accompanying them as rain started to fall, hitting the leaves of the crater-oak and plopping into the stream. “Well, it’s like you said,” he leaned in and used his tongue to collect a bead of water from in front of her ear, lips brushing her skin as she shivered and clutched him closer. “It was inevitable that we would end up water-logged one way or another.”

He pulled back in time to see her breastbone sink, her breathing labored from his warm tongue on her damp skin, her light colored tank top nearly see through and plastered to her curves. Ezra had seen Clara come in from the rain. He’d seen her after a shower, Kevva, he’d seen her in the shower. He had seen her get wet when making adjustments to the irrigation system, or when he’d splashed her with soapy dishwater in the kitchen. But he had never seen this- the unexpected look in her eyes, the rush of excitement, the sheer absurdity of trying to avoid getting rained on and ending up in chest high water instead. You are the most ravishing woman in all of Kevva’s creation, Clara.

She laughed, pressing and rolling the curve of her forehead against his before replacing it with her lips. “Yes, but now our clothes are all-”

Ezra took one of his hands away from where he held her to work its way between her shirt and her body, pulling upwards until his fist with the material bunched in it surfaced, and he peeled the soaked garment over her head. Making expert work of the clasp on her bra, he rid her of that, too. Before he returned his hand to the globe of her ass beneath the water, he let it trail down the valley of her chest, thumb and pinky grazing the inside curves of her breasts and pulling a breathy sound from her throat. “What was it you were saying about our clothes, Huckleberry?”

He tilted his chin, cocking his head to one side as he switched hands beneath the water, bringing his other one between their bodies to the zipper of her shorts, yanking down as she stuck both of her hands under his shirt, running up the sides of his body as she followed his lead and rid him of his top. Flinging the olive green shirt that now looked black with how soaked it was onto the bank, Clara reached under the water to help him free her from the cutoffs she wore, their eyes meeting as their wet fingers bumped together in their hurry.

“Just that we need to get them off, Ezra.” That clean, innocent light in her eyes that was filtering through the trees just moments ago was gone, replaced with a burning desire that the stream nor the rain could do anything to quell. “We need to get them off, right now.”

*taken from JSTOR: Gathering flowers as a metaphor for timely enjoyment is a far gentler, more sensual image than the rather forceful and even violent concept of seizing the moment. It is not that as a culture we can’t understand what it means to harvest something when it’s ready—we do have related metaphors like “making hay while the sun shines,” after all. But there is something in the more Hollywood phrasing “seize the day” that has clearly resonated with people in the last thirty years. We understand the phrase to be, rather than encouraging a deep enjoyment of the present moment, compelling us to snatch at time and consume it before it’s gone, or before we’re gone.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my stories/characters, please feel free to let me know! :)

Tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa

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birthdaysentiment · 4 years

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The music in wtFOCK season 3 - Song #37

Maandag 11.03 // "Wildfire" - SYML (Part Two)

One of the most difficult things to do in life is to let other people into your life, to show them your world and what kind of person you are. It can be scary to let people see who you are, to let someone see the god and bad parts, because maybe they're not going to like what they find, maybe they're not going to stay once they learn the truth and when they see everything you carry around with you. No matter how terrifying it can be to open up to someone else, to lay everything out and say, "this is me, all of me", we all wish to find that person. We all want to find that one person, who we can be ourselves with, where we don't have to hide or pretend to be someone we're not, because we know they're always going to be there right by our side.

This clip, this scene in particular, is one of my absolute favourites, because for me, it felt like this reunion was the moment where Robbe and Sander realized, that they're always going to be there for each other, that they're not alone and lost in this crazy world, because they will always have each other by their side no matter what.

At this point, Sander had told Robbe about his fears, letting him know what he thinks about himself, because Sander believes that he's toxic, that he breaks everything he touches, that Robbe is going to leave him since he only causes problems, because sooner or later Sander is going to hurt Robbe again, and that thought alone is enough to make Sander want to give up his own happiness, if it's going to keep Robbe safe. But Robbe sees Sander in a different light, he knows that Sander isn't toxic, that he doesn't break everything he touches, because when Sander touched him, he had never felt anything like that before. Robbe isn't going to let the darkness swallow Sander, he's determined to pull Sander out of that darkness, just like he did for Robbe.

In that moment, Robbe wanted to remove all of Sander's fears, and he knew a way to do just that. Robbe takes Sander's hands, asking him to get up, so they can stand in front of each other. And in that same moment, the piano version of "wildfire" starts playing in the background where the calmness and soothing melody fit perfectly to Robbe's gentle and soft voice, which makes everything seem much more intimate, as they stand close to each other. Robbe is almost glowing, his skin and clothes is filled with warm colours, where his brown eyes really stands out, and it's an interesting contrast to Sander, who's bleached hair, grey clothes and tiredness, makes him seem a bit colder and more distant, like it's reflecting what's going on inside of him.

Robbe lets him in on the game, that they're not going to think "what if we ever", but instead, they're going to think "what if we, in the next minute…", and the thought of that seems to bring some comfort. Sander is a thinker, he has a lot of thoughts, especially about the time to come, if everything is going to work out, or if everything is going to fall apart. He can't always control them, but whenever Robbe is near him, his mind seems to be going a lot slower, not racing with hundred miles per hour, so when Robbe tells him what they're going to do in the next minute, it seems to bring some sort of peace to him, that he doesn't have to think about what will happen later or what will happen after they kiss, because they will just take it minute by minute.

As they lean towards each other, the alternative version of the song starts playing around them, where a familiar melody filled with so many emotions, replaces the pure piano tones, and suddenly everything feels overwhelming. Every emotion in that scene gets intensified because of the music, where the song really emphasizes the care, comfort, tenderness and love between Robbe and Sander, which makes the moment so special, and at the same time, you're trying to hold your breath, trying not to move, because you don't want to ruin that minute.

The kiss is filled with so much tenderness, it's so gentle and loving, but at the same time it's almost too much, because of the intensity and intimacy. We have seen Robbe and Sander kiss many times before; they have shares passionate kisses, longing and caring ones, they have shared kisses full of desire and lust, but they've also given each other featherlight kisses. But somehow this kiss seems different, like there is so many unspoken words put into it, but most of all it seems like a declaration of love, a promise from Robbe, that he'll always be there for Sander, that he never has to worry about that. And the contrast between them, with the warm and cold colours, seems to disappear for a moment, and it almost seems like Robbe is trying to give some of his warmth to Sander with the kiss, trying to give him all the comfort, love and safety he needs in that moment.

They continue kissing as Robbe puts an arm around Sander's shoulder, so he can deepen the kiss, but as the camera turns around, as Robbe holds Sander closer to him, Sander can feel how every emotion is coming to him all at once. He slowly moves away from Robbe's lips before he breaks down in his arms, a place where he now feels safe and loved. In that same moment when the tears start forming in his eyes, when his breathing gets unsteady, while he's trying to stay on his feet, the lyrics below can be heard in the background, and somehow it seems like everything is connecting on a deeper level.

Sometimes we break so beautiful

And you know you're not the only one

I breathe you in, so sweet and powerful

Like a wildfire burning up inside my lungs

The editing is once again spot on, because as they sing "sometimes we break so beautiful", Sander breaks down in Robbe's arms in a room that he considers "somewhere safe", and for me, that somehow makes the moment even more emotional. Because Sander is not only in the arms of the person that he loves, but he's also in a room that gives him comfort, where he has the opportunity to escape his thoughts for just a moment, because art is his safe place. In that moment, Sander feels safe enough to be vulnerable, because he believes that Robbe is going to be there to catch him if he falls, that Robbe is going to be there for him, he's going to just hold him in his arms and let him know that it's okay to let it all out, that Sander will always be safe in his arms.

I've written about the meaning behind this song before, but somehow, I feel like the thoughts behind it has a different meaning in terms of this clip, and once again I can't help but get all emotional and teary. Some people wake up with the same feeling every day, a feeling of missing something that has been taken away from them, thinking everything seem so hopeless, which sometimes can make it too hard and difficult to continue. But this song is meant to represent that there is someone out there, who will stop you from giving up, who will let you know that there's hope and how much you mean to them.

In this moment, as Robbe is holding Sander close while his sobs gets louder, Robbe lets him know that he's loved, that he never has to feel alone since he'll always have Robbe by his side, for there is hope in this crazy world they're living in, and they're going to get through it together. Because when you find yourself in a season of destruction and loss, you might need someone to tell you that there's hope, and that they matter, you might need to know that there's someone who will come and pull you out of the dark, which will make it easier to continue. Robbe and Sander is that for each other, they pulled each other out of the darkness, they showed each other that there was another way to live your life, a way that was real and filled with love and happiness.

I love the way Robbe is taking care of Sander, because he's just there for him, and that's exactly what he needs in that moment, and I'm sure it meant everything to Sander. He's never experienced that kind of care before, that kind of love, comfort and safety, because even though he thought he had that in the past, being in Robbe's arms reminds him of how real love should feel like. When Sander no longer can stand on his feet, Robbe takes a firmer hold of him and lowers them to the floor as Sander's crying gets louder, and Robbe just rocks them slowly back and forth while he strokes Sander's hair to let him know that he's there. He's being so sweet, so caring and so gentle with Sander, and that just makes my heart so warm, especially with the loving melody in the background, that makes the moment even more powerful, because every emotion rises to the surface.

I have a hard time watching this scene, actually the whole clip, and sometimes I get all emotional just by thinking about it, because there's so many emotions attached to it. But it always warms my heart to see how much love and care they are between them; how important they are for each other and the changes they've gone through. Seeing Sander break down was tough, painful and it hurt, but I think Sander needed it, I think he needed to let everything out he had been holding inside, he needed to break down in order for him to process everything that happened the last ten weeks. And as I wrote in the beginning, it can be scary to open up, to let someone else into your life, and I think Sander was terrified that the truth would come between them, that Robbe would treat him differently and eventually leave, once he found out about his mental illness, but Robbe was different. By holding him close and whispering comforting words to him, Robbe was letting Sander know that he was never going to leave his side, which was everything Sander needed to know in that moment.

Before the clip ends, Robbe says something to Sander, that always makes me emotional, because as the song is coming to an end, as the melody gets softer and more mellow, Robbe whispers "I'm so happy I found you", six words that holds so much meaning. Not only is Robbe happy to have found Sander in his art room, to know that he's safe, but I also think Robbe says those words to Sander, to let him know how much he means to him, how grateful and happy he is about finding Sander, about him being a part of his life. Because without Sander, Robbe would properly be living a fake life, where he would pretend to be someone he's not, while trying to hide his true feelings. But when he met Sander everything changed, not only did he meet the person that made him feel something he'd never felt before, but he also met the person, that changed his life for the better, because Sander made Robbe want to be himself, Sander made Robbe embrace everything his life had to offer.

After this clip, I found myself emotionally overwhelmed, almost drained, because I had felt every single emotion in that clip, something the choice of music also helped with achieving. For me, "wildfire" will always be Robbe and Sander's song, and sometimes it surprises me, that it wasn't written specifically for them, because it fits so perfectly to them and their story. I can't imagine a different song for this clip, or another song to be the theme of their love story and the journey they've been on together, and I guess that just shows how brilliant wtFOCK is when it comes to selecting the songs for the soundtrack. And even though I have a hard time listing to "wildfire" and its different versions, the song will always be one of my favourites from the soundtrack to season 3, just as it always will have a special place in my heart.

#wtfock #wtfam #music in wtfock #wtfocksoundtrack #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #one of the most beautiful moments in season 3 #this clip is art #sorry for the way too long post

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thatcreepylithuanian · 4 years

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Elsa/Honeymaren: Learning to Love (Snippet)

oO Dragon's Head Peak Oo

"You never cease to amaze." Honeymaren cradled her own head as she stretched out to watch the firelight dance across fractal ice that allowed it's glow to spread out over the entire area in which they laid. The poles that created the pyramid-shaped support leaving the wilderness around them completely exposed, "How do you even think of these things?"

"What do you mean?" Elsa adjusted the bowl carefully making sure it sat directly beneath the hole meant to let the heat rise out and not melt the ice around it. The last thing she wanted was for it to come crashing down over them.

"I mean, don't you have to visualize something to make it happen or does it just...appear?" Honeymaren rolled into her side as Elsa came to sit beside her. Her fine brows furrowed with thought.

"I definitely have to visualize it... especially when I want to make something specific but other times the magic just takes over... It leads me, into seeing what I need to make." She sighed softly and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"What other things have you made? Things you've visualized." She let her fingers lightly trace some of the ice made beads along the hem of Elsa's jacket.

"I made, Olaf this you know of course...I uh, made some toys a couple of times for the kids of the Kingdom...The fireworks or whatever you'd call them at Anna's wedding. An ice rink, ice skates..."

Honeymaren frowned at her tone. She spoke as though she wasn't proud of any of it. She pushed herself back up to face her properly, "Let me rephrase. What's something you've made that you made for yourself? Something you're proud of?"

Elsa blinked dumbly for a long moment before her brows furrowed deeply with thought. She'd never even thought about it before. Her only focus on her magic had been to be careful with it. Keep it from hurting anyone. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she'd nearly always made something at request. Usually—no, nearly always—at Anna's excited request in terms of frivolous creation.

"Surely, there's something...?" Yelena had told her to practice her craft. Encouraged her to do things she'd never believed she could. Of course, Honeymaren hadn't been privy to those sessions. As the elder had taken Elsa deep in the woods so as to reassure her that no harm would come to anyone should she do so. Even then, that didn't count. She'd been told to do it. Wasn't there anything that she'd done for herself?

"I-um..." She curled her lip in as she continued to think back. Then finally it hit her, "I made a place once. Well, twice but the second time it was for Marshmallow and the snowgies..."

"Hold up... you made a palace? Entirely of ice?"

Elsa tensed unable to read the smaller woman's reaction, though when she let out a bark of laughter and took hold of her arms with the same joy that she'd seen in Anna's eyes so many times her entire body relaxed.

"Like, an entire palace? With rooms and everything?" The small sheepish nod made Honeymaren want to shake her, "You can do that? And you're living in a small wooden house?!"

"Well to be fair, if I made a house of ice I'd be the only one who could actually live in it... aside from the snowmen."

"Okay. Fair point. But still," She let far hands run down her arms before coming up to cradle her jaw, "That's absolutely incredible, you must take me there." She glanced down at her less than winter-ready clothes, the drop of the spring night already making her a little chilly, "When I'm more appropriately dressed of course."

Elsa smiled into her hold, her head tilting outside of her conscious thought into her palm, "Of course."

"It's so wonderful learning more about you..."

"It's good to be known..." Elsa spoke truthfully, her eyes lowering down just a touch to just appreciate the woman in front of her.

How nice it felt to allow herself to feel just a little bit special not just because of her gifts but because of who she was as a person. The compliment felt so much different coming from Honeymaren. As she wasn't her sister, who would love her no matter what or the people of the Kingdom of which she had reined filling her with polite platitudes because of her status.

In the Northulhdran's eyes, her magic was apart of her just as much as her hair and when Honeymaren questioned her it never felt like she separated one from the other. Her compliments on what she'd done like a carpenter being commended in his craft.

"You know...I was thinking..." The fingers that had been resting on the curve of snow lowered down to the deeply shadowed mark peeking out at the hollow of Elsa's throat, "If you wanted to practice sparring, I think I'd be a much better teacher."

Elsa winced slightly from the touch, the bruise heated and sore, "Are you sure you have time...? I mean, you're the Chieftess... don't you have responsibilities?"

"My only responsibility is to keep the peace between the spirits and our people. Everything else is for me to decide." Her fingers dipped just a little beneath the fabric before a sharp intake of breath forced her retreat, "Do you remember... What we talked about before...? After we got back from Arendelle?"

Hot, everything suddenly felt hot. From the tips of her ears down to her sandaled feet, "About starting over from the beginning...?"

"Yeah." The hands that glided down impossibly soft fabric left behind a warmth that was very distracting, "I do..." Elsa swallowed thickly, her eyes lowering down to their joining hands.

"Do you... want to try something more than kissing?" It had been such a wonderful night. Elsa hadn't looked so relaxed in a long time.

Elsa tilted her head up, that same feeling coiling slowly in her stomach. Her magic seemed to be calm where they were as if just being out in nature was enough to keep it satisfied, "Like... what?"

"I want you to touch me..." Maren was careful when she pulled on Elsa's wrists, resting her curled fingers below her collar, "Any way you like... as long as you're comfortable. Any way that makes you feel... good."

"Good?" Still hopelessly lost, her brows furrowed slightly, her gaze locked on her fingernail that was lightly ticking at the fabric of Honeymaren's tunic.

"You know... good." The younger woman grinned despite herself and ducked her head to catch her lover's eyes before pointedly looking down into her lap.

"Oh..." A bright blush ran up her neck, "But... aren't I supposed to make you feel... good?"

"We're supposed to feel good together. Trust me, anything you touch will make me feel good. Just... start with what you like and go from there." She didn't stop herself from gently running her palm over Elsa's thigh, the muscle therein flexing at her touch.

Elsa licked her lips slowly, her eyes flicking up for just a brief moment before she took a deep steadying breath, "Like... this?"

Her heart pulsed when she leaned in, closing the gap with a hesitant kiss. A soft hum of appreciation passed into her and she felt her body slowly unwinding. Ever so cautiously she let her fingers uncurl, trying to picture her magic as a soft summer wind instead of a raging storm of ice.

The fabric beneath her palms pulled with each breath, the muscle teasing her fingertips. When the kiss broke her lashes fluttered down to look at her hands, no ice, no snow. Mildly confident, she leaned forward once more and let her lips trail down along her pulse, the smell of Earth filling her senses. grounding her.

Honeymaren let her head fall to the side, her lashes opening to watch the spirit's descent. Her own hands twitched to take hold but her heart stayed them, "Yes... just like that..."

The soft whisper made Elsa smile, another small kiss pressing just to where skin met cloth. Timidly, she raised one of her hands and pulled; exposing more skin for her lips to explore. Her other hand curled instinctively into her own stomach, while she turned her focus on the one under her jaw. Conceal, don't feel... keep it under control... Despite her fear, her magic didn't seem to be coming to the surface, in fact, the heat that was growing in her stomach seemed to be keeping it quite restrained.

Emboldened, Elsa shifted just a touch closer. Leaning up to watch the back of her fingers trail down the V-shaped neck where a small metal clasp held the neck in place. Before she could even ask, tanned fingers deftly pulled the metal from its place, releasing a soft sigh from both women. With only a fugitive glance, Elsa returned her knuckles, lightly tracing down the valley before leaning in again to press her lips to the bone.

Maren had never before been touched so gently in all her life. It was completely intoxicating. It sent every one of her senses into overdrive. Her palms burned to touch the Goddess in front of her, her chest aching to return the favor. Her lashes fluttered again making her legs shift just a little further apart. She could do this, she could restrain her childish desires. She could keep herself under control. If Elsa could do it, so could she.

Elsa's gaze was beyond focused, her vision completely taken in by the sharp contrast of her fingers against sun-kissed skin. The hand around her waist tightened when she allowed herself to turn her hand, knuckles to fingertips. The small jump of muscle made her recoil near-instantly but the hand that came to her wrist in the next breath kept her in place. Fear flickering over deep sea blue eyes.

"It's okay, it just tickled..." Honeymaren leaned down without lowering her eyes, her lips reverently pressing against soft nails, "Do you... want me to...?"

Elsa curled her fingers lightly into her palm, her brows furrowing just a little from the hanging question. It took a long moment before her brain was able to supply her with all the possible ways their present situation could go wrong. The sound of the stream nearby filling her ears like a raging river.

"It's okay if you don't...I mean...I understand."

Another slow heated breath left Elsa's chest as her courage took its sweet time in coming out from behind its door. Like a child peeking out into the darkness of night, her heart thudded heavily before she managed to nod ever so slightly.

Honeymaren did her best not to allow her victory to overtake her senses. Her smile twitching to beam, "Okay."

A lick to her lips lowered her hands to the hem of her tunic, her eyes watching the hand she'd just released curl into the fabric over her love's heart. Patience, strength. Slowly. Carefully. Don't scare her, don't overwhelm her. Just, take your time. She wants this, you want this. There is no need to rush.

A deep sigh left her chest when the chill of the night raised her skin. Despite the springtime temperature the sight of the woman before her kept her skin heated. She laid the tunic down to the side, a brow-raising when blue eyes turned near to black from dilation. Another step, another breath to keep herself restrained. This was probably the best and worst situation she'd ever found herself in.

"You're so beautiful..." Elsa didn't even realize the words had escaped her battle-torn mind until Maren whispered back at her with the same sentiment and a gentle caress of her cheek that had her turning her lips into a soft weathered palm.

"Go on... it's okay..."

Silken knuckles returned, tracing along a muscled collar. Down to the raised skin of a defined chest before trailing along the cloth wrapped tightly both for modesty and agility.

Honeymaren sat up straighter with a swallowed moan. Her head tilting back to look into the endless night sky, the stars therein seeming even brighter than ever before. Another shift brought her up onto her knees, her torso stretching out like a taut rubber band as her entire body ached with need.

Elsa adjusted herself as well, coming from her hip to rest on her calves. The hand around her own waist finally coming free to join its mate to run down a broad square-shaped waist. She could almost feel every individual hair, every single pulse of the heart beneath her fingertips. The sensation completely blocking out all other thought. More, she wanted to feel more.

Head nearly to heavy to lift, Honeymaren felt a flash of worry when the palms that had surely memorized every single curve of her waist retreated. Her breath catching as she made to speak only to realize that Elsa had pulled back to remove her jacket.

The world around them suddenly felt brighter as her pupils exploded. Elsa had adjusted her magical shirt into nothing but a tight-fitting camisole, exposing her arms and shoulders to the light above causing her pale skin to almost glowing in its light.

Honeymaren's hands rose outside of her command, her brow going tense to the spotted bruises that marred her otherwise flawless skin. They had to hurt, how could they not? How had she hidden the pain so flawlessly? How she wanted to kiss them all away.

The mood between them faltered as Elsa turned her head down to the hands that ran up her arms, gingerly tracing the spots of heated and abused flesh. Her fingers twitched in the air between them before gingerly resting against the elbow of the arm that explored her own skin. The heat in her stomach clouding her thoughts and making it impossible for her to think.

A whimper slipped between Elsa's lips, her body arching forward as though led by another. Her head lowering down to press a soft kiss to the shoulder that had come level with her chin. Her arms wrapped behind, pulling the Northulhdran closer so that her heat threatened to melt the ice that formed her clothes. A sharp breath and a near full-body tremble came from the woman in her embrace and she found herself completely lost inside a storm to which she had no control.

"Does it... is it...good?" Elsa's tongue almost failed her. Her breathing near painful from the contact, the strange want to be even closer, to feel her skin against her own.

"So good..." Honeymaren pressed her lips into her hair, one hand coming up to tangle into silver locks while the other slipped just beneath the fabric of her lower back. There was still too much between them, so much more to feel. They'd come this far, could they go further? Should she risk it?

"What do you want right now?"

Elsa wasn't sure how to answer that question. All she knew was that she wanted more, more of something. Something that lied hidden behind the fog of alcohol, of a memory distorted, "More..."

As though called by a siren, Honeymaren pulled her head back just enough to capture bruised lips. A soft whine of her own mixing with the whimper she pulled forth. Her arms flexed and her legs moved out from beneath her, lowering her down and tilting her head up. The kiss remained, heavy and chaste. A small pause to catch their breath before she recaptured her lips. The smaller woman leaned back into the arms that held her close. Her weight pulling them backward and forward simultaneously.

Elsa tried to move fluidly but her body was still new to this amount of stimulation running through her veins. A small gasp had her sliding her lips away into a furiously pulsing neck as strong legs moved outside of her own. Her hips shifted and when her lower stomach pressed into bone a sharp hiss from the woman beneath her stuttered her heart.

"I'm okay," Honeymaren rushed to relive the tension she felt snap tight through the woman now laid completely overtop of her. Her weight unimposing. Her hips bucked when she shifted again and her control began to slip, "Just...ah... It feels good..."

Elsa shook her head, her arms shifting out to support part of her weight on her elbows. Despite her words, her face didn't look like it was good. She definitely looked as though she were in pain, "Are you sure?"

Maren forced her eyes open and took the deepest breaths she could manage, letting her fingers trail up Elsa's soft neck and under her jaw, "Positive... Do you... still feel good?"

"I think so..." She felt many things, too many to possibly analyze. It was as though her mind had fled, "What should I do...?"

"Whatever you want... whatever feels right..." Oh, it was so hard to speak. She wanted so desperately to return every favor. Every touch, every kiss. To simply show her how good everything she'd done felt.

Still unsure and with her arms otherwise occupied, Elsa shifted her weight eliciting another sharp hiss. Her brow furrowed and her confidence fled, "I.. I don't know..."

"It's okay... just... relax okay? Breathe..." She wasn't sure to whom she was giving advice to at the moment. Her body was throbbing with a need that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore, "Do you... want to stop?"

A pregnant pause held the air between them, soft blue eyes searching for answers to questions they weren't sure to ask. Everything felt as though it were climbing to a dangerous peek. Into a darkness that had every potential of washing away all the progress they'd made thus far.

Honeymaren was screaming inside her head, begging to every God, Goddess, and Spirit she knew. Pleading with them for strength to hold herself back. She'd never felt such a rush, such a carnal need as she did at that moment. If only the Spirit that laid so perfectly against her could hear her thoughts, her silent pleas.

"No... But I... my hands..." Elsa found herself similarly calling out to the powers that be. For guidance and courage. She wanted this, she wanted this and more. She just didn't know what it meant, what exactly more was. She felt so incredibly naive, so incredibly unlearned. Why couldn't she recall what they'd done before? Why did her memory elude her now? It never had any problem showing her every mistake, every misstep.

"Use your mouth..." Her entire body pulsed at her own words. The taste of summer honey recalled to her tongue. It felt like lifetimes ago though it was only two weeks. Two weeks... Was she asking too much? Too soon?

Elsa's body thrummed like the string of a perfectly tuned violin. She curled her lips in, worrying them with her teeth. She did very much like it when Honeymaren would kiss along her shoulders. A kind gesture when she held her close. Her eyes lowered down from the heavily flushed face of the young Chieftess, her eyes tracing along straining muscle.

Nervously, she lowered her head. Her heavy blonde hair spilling out from around her shoulders. It completely blocked out everything around her. Zeroing in her focus, clearing her mind of everything but the gentle scent of Earth and herbs.

Her lips trailed, pausing only slightly to pay homage. The hand that had moved into her hair felt weightless and guiding. She allowed herself to follow its subtle pull, lowering her further. Her nose traced lightly, her breath frigid as she exhaled heavily against caramel skin. Her lashes fluttered, leaving butterfly kisses along the fabric bifurcating the solid plains of flesh.

The intense mixture of hot and cold made Honeymaren's head spin. Her eyes rolling back as her hand reflexively tightened, tangling in the hair that flowed down her waist. Her back arched into soft lips that nearly burned when they reached the hollow of her stomach.

A sharp crackling sound came to her ears next as the soft fur beneath her grew stiff, the frost growing inside it chilling her spine and making her hips arch towards the furious heat between her legs.

Elsa's eyes snapped open to the familiar sound that was nearly lost in the rushing of her heart that pounded in her ears. Despite the firm hold on her head, she found herself pushing away, her eyes wide with fear that made her heart flip sideways painfully when she caught sight of the frost continuing to grow on the discarded tunic.

"No..."

"It's okay...shhh..." Still reeling, her hands fumbled to both untangle themselves and push herself up. Chest heaving and head threatening to float off into the stars above, she reached out near blindly to keep Elsa from pitching completely backward out of her hold.

A desperate barking sob twisted the Fifth Spirit's flushed features as her hands quickly wrapped around her waist, the ice in her camisole growing stiff and cold, "No..."

"Wait, Elsa!" A whisping gasp stumbled her forward and the fifth spirit backward. The thick blanket tangling both of their legs as the partially frozen hide gave an awkward resistance. Honeymaren's eyes opened wide as they lost their balance sending them tumbling down in a tangle of limbs that left the blonde pinned and struggling beneath her much heavier frame.

"Calm down, just breathe!" Honeymaren groaned softly as she pushed herself up, the wind partially knocked out of her from the fall. Her hands reached out as she pulled herself up and took hold of freezing cold wrists with bruising force, "You didn't hurt me!"

Elsa couldn't see, her eyes closed tight as memories of the past shot across the blackness. Her heart racing with emotions she'd rather have left buried somewhere deep inside. She didn't even register that she had started to try and push the other off of her until her hands came down with a leafy crunch just beside her head. Her legs kicking out uselessly at the blanket that had felled her in the first place.

"Breathe," Honeymaren tried to take her own advice as she shifted her weight back to Elsa's hips, firmly planting her to the ground. Her eyes taking in the unfathomable pain etched on her lover's features, "I'm okay... you're okay..."

Her hold relaxed when the arms in her grasp stopped pushing against her, "You're okay..."

Elsa forced her eyes to open to the voice above, her eyes going in and out of focus for a long second before she was able to take in the loving eyes, "I'm sorry..."

"Why are you sorry...?" Another shift brought them just a bit closer, "You haven't done anything wrong..."

"I ruined it... again..."

"No, you didn't..." A gentle nuzzle with the tip of her nose returned deep ocean blue, "It's okay, you got excited. That's good. You kissed me back, that's even better."

"But the ice..." Elsa sniffled as a few tears rolled over her temples, her fingers flexing against her palms.

"We'll get there... You just need... more practice." Honeymaren smiled cautiously and released one of her wrists to clasp over top of Elsa's, "I told you..." She pulled the arm from beside her head, the limb giving only the smallest of resistance, "I love all of you." Reverently, she pressed a kiss along the backs of her knuckles before pulling it over her heart where she pressed it firmly.

Elsa shook her head only just, her fingers curling up tighter, "I don't want to hurt you..."

"And you won't, I know you won't." She pulled up its mate and pressed them together inside her own, resting her lips over top, "You did good, so good. Come here..."

Despite the resistance, Honeymaren pulled the elder woman to her chest, letting her wrists go out to get sides where they clenched tight. Her arms wrapped around quaking shoulders as she rose herself up on her knees to pull the Goddess' head down over her heart. She held her impossibly tight as freezing tears trailed over her skin. Her eyes turning up to the stars that seemed to grow dim.

"You did so good... My beautiful moon..." Her words filled with affection and understanding. Calm and soothing. Her hand on her shoulders moving in slow circles to console.

Snow had begun to fall now, soft and light. Causing the fire above to sizzle and wane. Still, the Chieftess held tight, whispering words of comfort. Her lips kissing away now silent tears as The Spirit continued to tremble against her.

#frozen fanfiction #elsamaren #elsa #honeymaren

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mcnypieces · 4 years

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@gcrifin ferried: Windswept hair loosened from recent flight, form dipped just so to slide through the stone arc of a permanently open window. Wings steadied just to stay afloat, heeding situations like a plea for attention. More flits of the figure around the bends of his body, looping various muscles, scaling up the front of his chest to hover indiscreetly before golden eyes. One advantage taken, cheek pressed gingerly to rough stubble, slowly rolled till the corner of lips graze skin and pull away. Temptation keeps her body from drifting too far but never completely stills the heart. Fleeting risks soared only at the quiet hope of requital.

Undisturbed in a moment wrought with crippling thought. Sulked silence, some kind of respite tainted with painful awareness. Ever a constant state for stone pulled from disaster. Helmet aside, anger rolling new creases along his facial structure with every new private reveal. It was a sharp scalpel etching features in place. One line at a time; wasting no effort, giving no warning. Left alone to the pull of silence was the only comfort enough to soothe the wrath which so fervently scalded his veins. It’s an uncomfortable itch, an appetite never sated, left to sustain on something only mildly filling while it rests at an uneasy standstill. To say it was consoling felt far too lenient. The feeling was tolerable, enough to show him some semblance of ease when presented in such a careful manner. Small tilts of a scale were prone to disrupt the goliath balanced precariously on an edge between rigid collectedness and total collapse .

Every movement is a bit heavier than the last, restless and never once deciding to properly sit. There was never a moment for solace when one stood for something else. Breaking for none, succumbing to nothing, always aware of something even caught in thoughtful sea running red. Everything came in the blink of an eye and never hesitated. Pica’s focus was unyielding even in its lowest output; hardly aimless, only wavering to some self-conscious agenda repeatedly pushed to the side in favor of proper thought. How fortunate to have one such as himself on constant guard. Away from the games, separated from trivial pursuits, left only with duty and rage in the hand. They were the only requirements. Everything else was unnecessary ─ carved out of him like hollowed shapes in stone .

Thus unexpected becomes expected, trailing the tail end of a hazy thought as if summoned by possibilities. Wind catches wings in audible gusts, once or twice enough to rouse an otherwise over-thoughtful attention towards an open arch. Feeling grows, subsides, cast into nothing upon the sight of a golden visage made shamefully present. Visits were becoming customary just at eventide. On days he did not return with haste she still waited, patient and unperturbed like a statue of porcelain unaware of its worrisome place atop a shelf amidst an earthquake. Every other day, in and out, without a moment of delay. For so long there were nothing but questions without answers. It was vexing, interfering with time in a place meant only for himself. Little thought was ever needed to push that presence off the windowsill, thoughts waiting for the sound of something fragile shattering against the concrete below and never hearing it again. Yet the sound never came. The light continued to descend into his room every other evening just as the sun would set. Divinity cupped her in its hands and refused to let anything pry it open, not even the unrestrained fury of his hands. In time it had begun to chip at his ruthless demeanor, melting into familiar tolerance, until that light began to pour into the cracks the passing erosion left behind .

In his mind he begged her to stop. Pleaded and prayed. But still she returned .

Like a little bird flitting on the edge of vision, zipping to and fro in the spirit of a hummingbird skimming trumpet-mouthed flowers. There was irritation within it once, the sort common with brute force unable to snuff out the fluttering of something insignificant in a single open-palm strike. Swift despite size, that grace often proved a difficult adversary in the face of physical strength. She rises, falls, entwining each part of his being in ways none ever dared tried. It was inconceivable letting something so terribly close to the core stationed behind walls. Would be she could pluck away those secrets untouched and deliver them in deeper, refined tones than he had ever possessed. Every instinct seeks to break the neck of a bird and yet, he cannot bring himself to act. Newfound feeling springing to life around the foundations hardly touched by her grow vines in his joints. The Spade does not move, hardly so much as thinks. Frustration in lack of understanding beats against the surface of glossed over eyes but never breaks past the blank stare cutting holes into wall directly before him. Familiarity of stonework persists only for a second, clouded again by a sweet smile and green eyes staring thoughtfully into him. Something screams for any sign of focus and nothing seems to listen. It fades slowly, steadily, until it suddenly snaps into nothingness .

Living light presses gingerly against the skin of a shoulder, small hands anchored on its curvature as warm weight falls upon it. Insignificant to one meant to bear the weight of slate, almost feathered in touch. Heat crashes against his face as hers is brought onto him, the sensation of closeness turning dull aches into pulsing throbs. Unrest undulates against a ribcage without visible relief. The very place to feel the fondness of lips sprouts flowers, cementing a feeling unlike any other in the very make of his being. What horrid life it brings him, burying something undeniable within that he can’t take out anymore .

He doesn’t understand! This audacity, the nerve she has to so effortlessly tear down each and every wall he shapes! No respect, no sense of danger, obliviously carving an intricate image of herself in his mind knowing how easily the weight of his outrage could rip the wings from her back !

But it’s unbearable. Tenderness drifts away and the weight of the world comes back to take its place. He crumbles against the edge of an over-sized mattress and breathes. To be without it is to lose some faint source of stability. A hand reaches as if looking to be held only to harshly snatch her from the air. Tight, enough to feel the shape of her body beneath the grip. Wings protrude from between fingers, forcing an unexpected descent back upon the calloused surface of his skin. Hold loosened but firm, the bars of fingers pinning her to him in some pitiful excuse of an embrace. Head turned downward, small frame tucked beneath the corner of chin and neck, lavender cascading down golden locks and down to the small of her back. The rush of unexplained relief, some brush of dust and temporary caulk to something worn away by life. It’s another reminder of a man’s mortality; a sense of absolute terror overcome by some unrealized, uninvited desire .

Weak ─ he felt weak. That unmoving stone still falls apart with every meaningful, tender touch. But the disappointment of vulnerability felt less humiliating when Lulubelle was the only witness .

#❥ // * … won’t kill them ( answer. )#♠ // * ic ( pica. )#gcrifin #♠ // * precious gold to caulk stone unstable; little alabaster angel ( lulu / gcrifin. )#|| no shame we cross blog interact like real buns.#absolutely no regrets.#we crave the self indulgent content and I want in on the cross blogging train.#also json said I had to. 😔#as if I'd ever deny my biggest supportive stan.#anyway stone machine broke.#soft is scary and expression is difficult. ||#❥ // * ever running on stories of the sea ( long post. )#|| imagine not adding this tag in advance even though you know what you're typing.#hahahahah.... hahah... hah. ||

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musingsofanunser · 4 years

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𝚁𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗’ 𝚘𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗’.

As yet another bullet blurred past his ear with what seemed a mere fraction of an inch from his ear, Chez wondered how his afternoon had gone so south with such a sudden ferocity.

What had started with such promise, had quickly turned shit.

His day had begun pretty serenely with a shift at Teller- Morrow. The work hadn't taken as long as expected, which was a positive for him, not so much for Gemma. Meaning that the labour charge was gonna be less, but that's the dealio. Chez Grazer had absolutely no doubt the fierce matriarch, or his Uncle Fallon would find another million things for him to do until something else booked in or he was needed elsewhere.

Once wheeled free from under the chassis of an old Renault, a tatted rag soaks up the excess oil as the tall tattooed mechanic rubs each finger singularly. The prospects eyeline takes in the perfectly aligned row of Harleys. The highly buffed polish of each one reflecting with the bright glints of Californian sunshine.

With an earth shattering roar of engines, they had perfectly filed in through the gate around an hour ago. Each member dismounting gracefully before removing helmets and gloves, then trooping into the clubhouse. Possibly for Church.

Not being a full member, he wasn’t privy to such information, only allowed to bask in the presence of Church to either clean or sit at the back of the room during matters of great importance.

Or at least that is what he had been told. To date his only visits had been to empty ashtrays and wax the beautiful and painstakingly carved table.

He’d get there.

..𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦.

The club was in his blood. Part of the family DNA. Some might say he was following his Fathers footstep out of obligation to his memory. Especially given that Wally was an original, a First Nine.

It was so much more than that.

Sure, every son wants to make their Pap proud, but for Chez this was a life path he’d chosen for his own gains.

Given that their Uncle Fallon, his Da’s biological brother had raised him and Taylor since Wally’s untimely death, - who had then went on to also join the club, this outlaw life was doubly engrained in the young Grazer. The final male heir left to carry the honour.

- he 𝘩𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑑.

Chez wanted the bike and everything that came with it.

The brotherhood. The danger, death, destruction and adrenaline.

He was aware that the club had migrated away from the first nine’s ideal of what they desired for SAMCRO, but in his eyes, this was everything it should be. In his opinion, they served and protected the community better than any damn police department.

The babes, tits and ass on tap was also a undeniably huge draw.

Hanging around the club as soon as he could walk, club kids became accustomed to the sexualised nature of what was entailed within its walls and once he’d been awarded his Reaper patch, it would be a world that was laid at his feet too.

But for now, his life comprised of fishing panties out from the back of sofas, U-bends and general day to day stupid shit that the guys can think up, combined with the menial ass jobs no fucker wants.

Chez knew with absolutely certainty it was a test. Not only to prove his worthiness and loyalty to the club, but his commitment and bond to the guys. Being a son of a SON meant absolute shit when it came to being patched in. He would be patched in /if/voted suitable. On his own merits. Not his Father’s. Or his Uncles.. and Grazer Jr wouldn’t have wished it any other way.

If he was in need of extra resolution at any time, Chez would take Wally’s rings from the drawer in which he kept them, slip them on to his own fingers and draw strength. Remembering the amount of times his then much smaller hands held them, dreaming of becoming a SON as they swung around child sized fingers. Taylor has given him them as his own when he was accepted as a Prospect, with some little speech about how proud Dad would’ve been. They fit now and soon he would earn the privilege to wear them and the Reaper.

Hey, Dilly day dream...’ The snappish retort causing Chez’s head to swing around and meet the scrutinising, levelling glare of Gemma as she stands mere feet away. A single denim clad hip jutted out to the side, being the resting place to a set of perfectly manicured nails. Although he struggled to steer his direction of gaze anyway other than ample and exposed chest.

I’m gonna imagine you’re dreamy of some big titties and got lost a little there. Staring off in the distance like some school girl with a crush.” Not pausing for breath in order to grant him an opportunity to reply, she continues on in the same breath. ‘..Here..” the free hand waving a twenty dollar bill towards his nose.

“Go get me coffee and a donut, darlin’. I need the sugar today. Calories be damned.’

“Sure, Gem.”

Snatching the money free from her fingers, the oiled rag is tossed carelessly into the tool box below, as the prospect sets about doing as instructed.

The chick at the coffee house was pretty hot, so Chez didn’t mind this particular errand at all.

‘...and don’t take all fuckin’ day, Romeo. They need you in the clubhouse when you get back.’

...comes the call from the office as he rounds the gates of the compound, offering the matriarch - who is casually leaning against the wooden jam of the door, a cheeky salute of finger to forehead before disappearing out of sight.

After a very pleasant chat with Carla from the coffee place and having been successful (was there really any doubt.) in securing her number, Chez dropped the sugary goods to Gemma in the office and made his way to the clubhouse as instructed.

He was stood behind the bar as the brothers completed their church meeting, hearing the clack of the gavel before they all began filing out the double doors. Chez dutifully laid a varying selection of liquors and glasses out on the worn, wooden bar surface and with a curious glance, he quickly deduced that the meeting had went well and this was a cause for celebration.

Gloria, an eater who was hanging around on the off chance of being able to provide some entertainment of the naked kind, was also party to this deduction and the younger Grazer’s mouth raised into a one sided smirk as he saw the retrieval of her cell from the secured seat of her bra. Soon the place would be crawling with gash.

Sa-ᴡᴇᴇᴛ﹗

‘Well done, kid.’ His sponsor praised whilst reaching to retrieve an already poured measured.

‘Keep ‘em coming. We’re about to make a good packet. It’s cause for celebration.’

As he holds a shot glass in between his own thumb and forefinger, Chez raises it in silent salute before slinging it backwards in unison to Tig. The familiar after burn and harsh taste as it slides downwards causing the slightest of winces, having become accustomed to the hard liquor.

“I’m down with that, yo.”

Shortly after, the rest of the CroEaters arrive and the party suddenly becomes a rager. In light of this, Luanne’s call to Jax is treated as somewhat of an inconvenience by the Vice President, who is currently undressing the youngest of the eaters as she sits on his lap. Having to pause in lifting her blouse above her head in order to flip his cell, the tousled, dirtyhaired blonde dutifully obliges in carrying on with the removal of her upper body garments, bra included, as her companions attentions are drawn elsewhere.

Sure Lu. Someone will be right over. Don’t worry....’ the words spoken with total disinterest as he roughly palms a breast. ‘..we’ll sort it.’

Without a glance in the Scots direction, the burner is flipped shut and placed on the table alongside him. ‘Luanne has got some stalker problem at Cara.’

The gruff instruction given whilst Teller’s eyes remain firmly on the breasts infront is him. ‘...go sort it would ya, Chibs?’

A darting glance of interest has Chez’s hopeful expression now landing on a highly amused solider. The slightly bedraggled Scotsman beginning to rise from his chair, cigarette hanging from his lips as a light laugh sounds.

‘Aye. I see yer, Chezza. You an’ yer wee puppy eyes. Yer can come.’

That was all the young prospect needed. With another flash of glass to lips, a third measure of whiskey is fired back before snatching up the box of smokes that he’d laid on the bar. Replacing the glass for his keys.

“Sure thing, Chibs. That’d be awesome.”

‘Who knows. Maybe one o’these lassies might offer ye a wee blowie, in thanks for ridin’ in like a fool in tinfoil, ey?’

The two leather clad males leaving to a raucous round of laughter as they head outside towards the brilliant Californian sunshine and their awaiting bikes.

As they ready themselves to leave the lot, Chibs placing on his gloves, Chez puting the key in the ignition of his shitty Yamaha, not yet having earned his Harley, he enquirers as to why Luanne needed help.

‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Cannae be tha’bad, surely. Somethin’ aboot a stalker or some shite. Let’s go see, aye?’

With the roar of two ignitions lighting and kick stands being removed, further conversation comes to a halt as they head towards the film studios. Once there, a flurry of panicked screams and incoherent chittering reaches their hearing once the bikes have been silenced.

‘Well, looksie, here.’ Chez couldn’t help but notice the two motorcycles that had Mayans wrote all over them, not needing his older brother to make reference to them.

“What the fuck are they doing here?.”

Instantly his mind flashes back to the altercation between him, Tig, Taylor and the two Mexicans he shot. - Fuck.

As a look of careful agreement is expressed and acknowledged between the two males, they withdrew their weapons in symmetrical movements. Almost as if practiced.

Quickly motioning for Chez to enter via the side door, Chibs enters to the front.

Well practised in the art of making a surprise entrance, the two males enter at precisely the same time. Guns raised and fully loaded as Chibs calls out a cheery greeting.

‘Well then, what do we have ‘ere? Looks like a party we werne’ invited to, Chezzy.’

Calculating the risks as he readies his response, Chez locates two lone Mexicans. One with a pistol to Lyla’s head, the other holding Luanne to a makeshift bed with a throat choking hold.

“Most Fuckin’ rude.. bastards need taught some manners on how to treat women.”

The rage still burning from how they had kidnapped and mistreated Taylor, the younger brother could feel the red mist rising as he took in the scene before him. Was this a retaliation on their part?

The Mayans also were surveying the new surroundings and Chez visibly saw them panic. They had to execute caution, or one of the girls could quite easily end up being shot.

Having his eyeline meet with Lyla’s it’s obvious she’s been waiting to catch it. Signalling him downwards to the three fingers extended and splayed against her hip, the prospect clearly understood the gesture. A flashing glance to Chibs tells him he understands and is on board.

Causing a distraction being a special talent of his, he begins to talk utter shite as Chez returns Lyla’s instigation with single raised finger. That’s the count of one. Silently, they inwardly sound the following two numbers then as if in a practised synchronicity, the porn star and Opie’s old lady proceeds to lift a stilettoed heel to her captors shin, followed by a lightening strike of elbow to throat. Both of these momentarily drawing his attention from his loaded gun to her temple. That’s all Grazer needed. As Lyla ducks, the Mayan receives a shot to the upper chest.

One down.

The second was now fumbling to maintain a hold on Luanne and somehow get his gun. The porn director used this advantage to the best of her ability and shot off the bed like a spring. Diving for cover behind a bench and crawling in her hands and knees towards Chibs.

‘There’s another two through the back.. they took two of my girls.’

She spluttered out in a panic, eyes widened in fear, the Scot reassured her before turning to the prospect.

‘Keep an eye on ‘im. I’ll go see what’s happenin’ next door. Ye best call Clay an’ update him, an’all.’

“On it.”

With his colt trained on the now lone Mayan, who had his pointed towards Chez’s direction in return, his free hand flips the burner to make a sharp and extremely brief chat to the club leader.

Just as the phone snaps shut, Chibs reaches the door in which he is to manoeuvre through, only to have it burst open on him.

The remaining two Mexicans, come out all guns blazing.

“Fuck! Everybody down!” The yelled instruction unneeded as all the females flung themselves to the floor with banshee like shrieks as an assault of bullets sound around them.

As a near miss flew past his head, Chez’s patience finally snaps and he stands from where he was previously crouched, behind the makeshift till counter. His own shots managed to score a hit to an arm on one and a leg on another.

Given that they were now all edging towards the side door, two carrying the third with the wounded thigh, the prospect looked to the older male for silent instruction.

‘Let ‘em go, Chezza. If any of our lads are outside, they’ll see to ‘em sure enough.’

Once the Mayans have left the premises, Luanne begins to gather up the girls. Each of them checking the other’s welfare in a high keening pitch as they hug and pat one another down.

“What the hell were you thinking, Lu?”

Barely managing to hold his temper as the younger Grazer reholsters his gun.

‘They said they were fans.’ She began in a tone that still held a note of panic. Now in fear of upsetting the club.

‘...they paid $200 to come watch. Just for an hour. Then the bikers turned up and things got.. a bit out of hand.’

Somehow she managed to perform an expression full of innocent guilt on both the prospect and the Scotsman. ‘I’m really sorry, guys. Thanks for comin’ so quick. I don’t know what might’ve happened otherwise.’

All further conversations were cut short as a flustered Opie burst through the side entrance, gun held aloft. ‘LYLA!’

“It’s all cool, man. They’ve gone. She’s

Good.” Chez’s words of reassurance ringing around the softened wails and over emotional cries as the worried bear of a man is now cradling his petite old lady in his arms.

“She done good, Ope. Real good.”

Meeting the grateful look as the grizzly brother nods an expression of thanks his way, Chez feels a hardened pat to a shoulder.

‘So did you, son. Which just goes tae prove why the vote was unanimous.’

Suddenly feeling as if his heart was about to beat right out of its rib caged confines, Chez angled his face towards the voice.

“What...?”

‘We voted, lad. After the vote for the next run, Clay asked about your prospectin’. It should really be Tig or Clay tellin’ yea, but after tha’, I’m just gonna go ahead an’ say,

....welcome tae tha jungle, brotha!”

#Spotify

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sagebaileyspeaks · 4 years

Text

The day is finally upon us and Hamilton has finally reached Disney+ and I just want to say: I’m glad they got this proshot right.

My experience is limited to Cats and Spongebob but both of those left a few things to be desired. Cats is definitely bizarre and entertaining the lack of audience presence is apparent and gives the film a distance that doesn’t emulate live theater and in the case of Spongebob...listen I’m glad that they took the time to film this musical for the sake of posterity but the proshot of Spongebob is TERRIBLE. Especially if you’ve seen the show live or any of the slime tutorials that are floating around. That proshot suffers from the amount of material that was cut, the lackluster audience and the incredibly stiff direction. When you see the Spongebob Musical live there is so much ENERGY that the director just could not capture. And you can’t tell me that it was too hard to do, because they did it with Cats back in 1998 and they did it here with Hamilton in 2016.

Mini rant out of the way, I think this proshot is amazing and embodies both the experience of live theater and the sheer power of this particular musical. I mean just look at the trailer. I saw a video late last year, coincidentally about Cats, and how the proshot allows you to get those characters more personally and that is absolutely true here.

Having seen a variety of slime tutorials (sorry Lin!) and the show live in SF, I can tell you with certainty that there are things you just can’t pick up because everything moves so fast in front of you. Facial expressions, slight movements of the hand, I NEVER realized the look of complete devastation on Burr’s face in “The Election of 1800″ but now I do! And in high definition!

In regards to what I think of the musical as a whole: I think that Act 1 is a great representation of the “Double Consciousness” and Act 2 is war of the assholes. And what I mean by that is that on the surface, you have a musical about how great the Revolutionary War and our Founding Fathers are and underneath you have a group of POC going back and forth about best way to approach an oppressive system.

You have Burr who is very much about respectability politics who embodies the, “if we just educate ourselves, talk proper and dress nice and not make too many waves we can rise in this system,” and then you have Hamilton who says, “Fuck that, burn it all down, revolution we get rid of the oppressor by force.” And in these times, lines like “this is not a moment, it’s the movement,” “I’d rather be divisive than indecisive,” “when you’re living on your knees you rise up,” have a lot more meaning than they previously held.

Act 2 on the other hand is when you see that one person who called for revolution get a little bit of power and then sell out the entire movement because it’s now below him. It’s tragic that Burr, Mr.Respectability Politics, can’t rise any higher until he starts acting like a revolutionary, but Hamilton, the self proclaimed revolutionary, rises high because he challenges the system and becomes apart of it.

If nothing else, I see Hamilton as a musical about how POC in America navigate a system of oppression and work within it. Also Ham’s an asshole, Jefferson’s a snazzy asshole and Burr is a sympathetic - but murderous - asshole and I love it. I’ve read a few articles that say the musical is wrong for painting them as “heroes” but honestly...honestly...every single one of them puts their assholeishness on full display and they’re just fun to watch because they’re terrible people. Like, I don’t watch Jefferson and go “what an amazing job,” I think, “You entertaining son of a bitch.” But that’s just me.

I think another element that added to my enjoyment was the fact that my experience with the musical live was not great. The actor who was filling in Burr did not have the vocal range required for the role, the person playing Lafayette/Jefferson was - in my opinion - hucking and jiving for white folks (shaking his Afro like JJ from Good Times,) and the audience had an audible negative reaction when a dark skinned Maria Reynolds appeared on stage. The other core numbers “Yorktown,” “Satisfied,” “One Last Time,” and “Schuyler Sisters” were phenomenal, but honestly even watching the slime tutorials weren’t enough to wash the bad taste out of my mouth - but this was! I feel like it was a great substitute for the live experience.

All around Hamilton on Disney+ is a huge recommendation for me ESPECIALLY if you have kids of color.

#hamilton #hamilton musical #hamilton on disney+#disney+#broadway #musicals #reviews

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mr-dwight-dwicky · 4 years

Text

[ @leera-ozynite ]

Dwight stared out his window. How long had it been since he’d just...stared at the stars? There were so many of them from here, and a view of the large, purple planet below, smoky and glowing. He buried his hands in his pockets as he watched the little swirls of the atmosphere, the turret ships patrolling along the perimeter. Icy blue eyes scanned everything, drinking the scene in. It was a beautiful place, he had found himself in. It was a pity he’d never appreciated it until now.

He heard the door open behind him, feeling himself relax and tense all at once. He took a breath. “Thank you for coming, Leera.”

Leera stood at the door for a moment, shutting it quietly behind her. She was nervous. Dwight’s tone had sounded so serious when he had summoned her. “Of course, Mr. Dwicky,” she said, approaching him slowly. “May I ask what’s going on?”

“Dwight,” he corrected her, giving her a glance over his shoulder, his gaze following her as she drew closer. The way the glowing glimmer of space fell on her was extraordinary, making her eye appear almost iridescent, made her skin seem to sparkle. She was beautiful. He’d never deny that. Beautiful and so many many other things that he had been too foolish to see. “And you may ask any question you wish. But perhaps first I should answer yours.”

He didn’t look at her, gazing back at the starry, inky scene in front of him. Sometimes he wondered if they could see him from here. Mooshy. Spoopty. Their children. What would they see? What would they say?

They weren’t here for him to ask this. They weren’t here for him to speak what he was feeling. He couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel about this. About her. Dwight looked at Leera out of the corner of his eyes, knowing she was staring at him curiously. Would the mates he had before approve of her? Would they want him to take another?

He supposed it didn’t really matter. After tonight his life would no longer be in his hands.

“Leera,” he began, taking another breath, trying to keep his nerves under control. He would not back down and brush this under the rug. He would not do that this time. “I need you to tell me something.”

Leera’s heart jumped at Dwight’s tone, at being asked to call him by his first name in a...less intimate setting than usual. She struggled to compose herself and cleared her throat. If there had been more light in the room the color along her cheeks would betray her. “What do you need me to tell you...Dwight?”

Why did her simply saying his name send a thrill through him? Why did just having her in his presence make him feel calmer than he’d felt in years? Like the shattered pieces of his life were settled into a picture that made sense? Leera was a remarkable woman, strong and loyal to a fault. And he had been so blind. He’d been blind to so many things…

“I need you tell me every single thing you think I’ve done wrong.”

Leera froze, nearly choking on her breath. She hesitated and shuffled. “Sir I...I don’t think that is a wise idea.” Almost immediately she tried to back. “I...I mean-,”

“Leera,” Dwight said, turning to the Mefni fully. He stepped closer, gently cupping her chin and lifting it. He needed this. He needed to hear it from her. “Please tell me.”

Leera’s heart jumped again. His tone was so soft, his eyes intense and pleading. It made her weak. He made her weak. She very well could have collapsed in his arms in that moment, if she did not remember that he’d asked her something. Something extremely important. She gnawed on her bottom lip, gathering her thoughts. She was a fool. She’d always known she was. Blinded by the smallest moments of softness and kindness, ignoring the horror and destruction. She knew it wasn’t right or healthy. And yet she’d always hoped for...something. Something like this. Right here. Right now.

“You should not have hurt that little girl,” Leera told him. Her voice was quiet. But her tone was sure. “You could have very easily achieved your goal without her. Without...many things that happened that day.”

Dwight flinched. He had not expected her to mention that first of all things. But he was grateful. “What else?” He knew there was more.

Leera had to steady her breath. Calm and collected. “I never saw any reason for you to bring Harmonia in. We...we were fine on our own.” Okay perhaps that statement was a little selfish. “You also did not need to manipulate the Admiral in a way where she ended up on our side. Which lead to you losing the Galactic Alliance in the first place. And you most certainly didn’t need to…” She trailed off. She couldn’t even say it. “There was no reason for you kidnapped her and Dibbles when you took his hand. There was no rhyme or reason to it. I’m still confused as to what point you were even trying to make!” Her voice was rising, years and years of silenced feelings being brought to the surface, finally confronting all of these things. Finally forcing Dwight to confront his actions. “And do not even get me started on everything you did to Chance! How dare you! You had a sweet, wonderful boy and you nearly turned him into...into…” She shook her head, backtracking again. “I...I’m sorry…”

Dwight let Leera speak on and on, silently taking in every single one of her words. These were all things he already knew, that he’d come to terms with. But he knew for it to truly sink it he needed to hear it from someone who wouldn’t lie to him, but also someone who was ridiculously devoted to him. Because if she could see it, and could tell him, then perhaps it would be enough for him to truly know where to go from here. A final confirmation, of sorts. “You can say it,” Dwight told her. “I...tried to turn him into me…”

His eyes fell to the floor for a moment before he continued. “Strange how it took...meeting a kid so different from me, or perhaps more similar to the person I was before...for me to realize...I didn’t want anyone to be like me.” He snorted. “I don’t want to be like me.”

He looked back up, meeting Leera’s eye. His hand moved from her chin to her cheek, gently caressing. Her skin was soft, smooth like porcelain. She came off as so small and fragile sometimes and it always gave him pause. More often than not she had to remind him how capable she was. “And you don’t need to apologize, Everything you said is the truth.” His voice grew soft as he asked his next question. “Leera...why have you stayed this whole time?”

Leera’s face heated up exponentially, her gaze flitting everywhere but Dwight’s eyes. How was she supposed to answer such a loaded question? “I...where else would I go?” she asked in return.

Dwight shrugged. “Anywhere, really. I wouldn’t have stopped you. I’m sure Chance would have welcomed you with open arms at any time.” His brow furrowed. “I...may have erased a memory of yours or two, if you truly ever wanted to leave. Before now, I mean.”

Leera blinked. “You...wouldn’t have just killed me?” she asked. Not that erasing her memory was much better, nor did it make up for the absolutely abhorrent acts this man had committed. But...his next words… There was some weight there. “...You wouldn’t do that now?”

Dwight shook his head. “If you told me now that you wanted to go, I wouldn’t stop you. I would do nothing to alter your mind before you left. I’d...I’d let you go.” His gaze met hers once more. “I would understand.”

Leera held Dwight’s gaze, eye wide. She subconsciously stepped closer, having to crane her neck a bit to keep eye contact. Her hands reached up for the lapels of his blazer, clutching tightly. Suddenly she felt bold. “I...I belong here. I belong here with you.”

Dwight cupped her cheek gently, his body tingling as she came closer to him. His hand slid to the nape of her neck as he leaned down, his eyes going half lidded. “I’m glad.” He whispered, closing the distance between them. “I want you here with me.”

Leera��s eye widened as Dwight mouth on hers. He’d never kissed her before. And now that he had she immediately found herself pushing closer, her eye closing as she relished in the feeling. His lips were surprisingly and tantalizingly soft. She inhaled sharply as her arms slide up to wrap around his neck.

Dwight had intended to keep the kiss calm for a bit, but having Leera react so eagerly made him change his mind. His hand moved to tangle in her pinned up hair, the other pulling her even closer by the hip. He felt her mouth open against his, but still remained tentative, swiping cautiously along her lower lip with his tongue.

Leera didn’t care nearly as much about being careful right now. At feeling Dwight’s tongue her mouth opened even more eagerly, her own coming out to coax his further in. She felt like she’d been suffocating for years and Dwight was fresh air. All she wanted was him. Surrounding her. Consuming her. She wouldn’t waste a single second of this opportunity.

Dwight growled, deciding to finally concede. He kissed Leera more firmly, his arms holding her close to his body. He always desired her, but this felt different. He didn’t just want to fuck her. He wanted to show her everything she made him feel. How she reminded him of everything he’d thought was long gone and lost. How grateful he was that there was someone who, beyond all reason, believed that...he was something more than what he’d been for so many painful years.

In a swift movement he lifted Leera up, his hands under her thighs. She was so small compared to him. He knew she didn’t need protecting, but he knew he wanted to. He wanted to protect her from everything in the universe if he could.

He perhaps even wanted to protect her from himself.

Leera wrapped her legs around Dwight, a tiny moan escaping her muffled mouth. She pressed her body as close to Dwight’s as she could, fueled by her desire and devotion to this man, things that burned brighter than ever, kindled by pride that he finally seemed to see sense. That he finally wanted to change. Leera’s felt her chest ached at the notion that perhaps years of boundless, foolish hope had not been wasted.

Dwight hardly stumbled as he carried Leera to his bedroom, kicking the door open before slamming it shut behind him. There was no need to lock it. No one should disturb him in his quarters. They knew better. He gently placed Leera on the bed as he finally broke away from her mouth, panting. His forehead touched hers and their gazes met again. He swallowed. “I...are you okay with this?” Perhaps at this point it seemed stupid to ask, but he never had before. He had to know if she really wanted this. That this wasn’t just an obligation she felt to him.

Leera’s eye was half-lidded as she looked up at him, barely hearing what Dwight had asked her. When it processed she couldn’t help the warmth in her chest, the swell of her heart. She reached up to cup his cheeks, giving him several, soft pecks on the lips. “It’s more than okay,” she whispered. She rolled her hips up for emphasis. “Please take me, Dwight.”

Dwight melted into the kisses, each one making him inhale sharply through his nose. And then those pleading words. That was enough for him, for sure. He kissed her again with fervor, hands descending onto where her blouse was tucked into her skirt. He pulled out the hem and began to lift it up, taking a moment to admire Leera’s topless form beneath him. “You’re beautiful,” He murmured, moving his mouth to her neck and shoulder. “Brilliant. I don’t deserve you.”

Leera sighed at feeling Dwight’s mouth on her skin, taking the liberty of reaching up and removing his blazer. She then set to work on the buttons of his shirt. She blushed at his words, hips shuffling upward. “You…” She trailed off, unsure of what she had meant to say at first. Instead, she whispered. “I’m yours.” Always yours.

Dwight almost chuckled at Leera’s eagerness. It had been a while since they’d had sex, which had been intentional on Dwights part. However after seeing how excited his secretary was to get on with it, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to bring himself to deny her ever again. He helped her get his shirt off, his broad, scarred chest exposed. The part of his shoulder where his metal arm and skin met was also slightly marred.

Leera couldn’t help but stare, an almost hungry look in her eye. She loved Dwight’s scars, the slight hair on his chest. She reached up to touch, tracing every mark. Her hands moved down to his abdomen, before deftly setting to work on undoing the man’s belt.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been this forward before,” Dwight commented, an almost teasing tone to his voice.

Leera looked him dead in the eye, undoing Dwight’s button and zipper as she said, “You’ve never been this hesitant before.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face.

Oh. So that was how they were going to play, huh? “You think I’m being hesitant?”

“Very,” Leera replied without missing a beat. She sat up as she began to pull Dwight’s pants and boxers down. “I promise that you are allowed to be a good person and still fuck me. Sir.” She added the last word with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Dwight typically didn’t like when Leera called him ‘Mr. Dwicky’ and ‘Sir' while they were in bed together, but, hell, if that right there didn’t send a shiver down his spine and straight to his dick. He wasted no time pulling off the rest of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly off the bed. He then nearly tore the side zipper of Leera’s skirt open before pulling it off and throwing it somewhere as well. He couldn’t help but look her over again. He’d seen her naked so many times, but right now he wanted to appreciate it. Appreciate this moment with this woman who had dedicated so much to him.

He smirked down at her, rubbing his erection against her already wet and beckoning entrance. She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders. “Is that what you want, Miss Ozynite?” He leaned down, their faces merely centimeters apart. “Would you like me to fuck you?”

Leera rolled her hips against him, her moan coming out as almost a squeak. Her gaze met Dwight’s, their breaths mingling together. She dropped the little role-play they had started. “I want you, Dwight,” she whispered, her tone heavy with emotion. “I want...all of you.” Was it too much to ask? Maybe. But if her hope had gotten her this far…

Leera’s words tore through Dwight like a knife, but in a surprisingly good way. His chest ached with so many feelings, and his hand came up to caress her cheek again. He smiled genuinely as she leaned into his touch. His nose rubbed against hers. “You have...terrible tastes. But...I will give you everything I can. Everything I am.”

Even if it would just be for tonight.

He wasted no more time entering her, slowly and carefully. Leera gasped, clinging harder to Dwight, practically wrapping entirely around him. She was tight and hot and he had to steady himself for a moment before pulling out and pushing back in.

“Dwight,” Leera breathed, her nails digging into his shoulder, thighs already squeezing against his hips. She met his movements with her own, unable to help her impatient whimper when he wouldn’t speed up. “Dwight, please faster.”

Dwight complied, increasing his pace steadily. “Look at me,” he said, doing his best to keep it from sounding like a command. He held Leera’s gaze when she complied, his hands moving to her hips for leverage. He thrust faster for a few moments before pulling Leera close and switching their positions, pulling her on top of him.

Leera was dazed at this point, and it took a minute for her mind to catch up to what had just happened. She looked down at Dwight questioningly, her only answer a strong, upward thrust. She threw her head back and moaned, her hands finding their way to Dwight’s shoulders again. She pushed herself up and then back down, riding him in almost experimental movements. They’d never done it like this before, but like hell Leera was going to complain now.

Her nails dug more into Dwight shoulders as she felt that familiar hot coil in her belly, her movements becoming faster and harder. “Dwight…” she moaned loudly, holding on to him tightly. “Dwight!”

Dwight found himself completely mesmerized, wondering why he’d never had Leera ride him before. The Mefni was magnificent, her movements forcing him remember his breathing to keep from getting off too soon. Perhaps that was why they’d never done this in the past. Control had always been so important to him. But right now, in this moment with Leera, Dwight realized he could give up control over and over again for her. Just for her. His hands gripped her hips as he thrust upward to match her excited movements. He grunted when he felt her start to tighten around him. “F-fuck,” he gasped. “Leera...you’re amazing.”

Leera made a desperate keen, hips rolling almost erratically. She was so close. So fucking close. “Dwight, I…”

Dwight began to help her move, his thrusts deep and powerful. He could probably watch her like this forever. “You’re so good. So good to me.” Why you chose me of all people is still a mystery. “You feel...so fucking good.” He suddenly wished he’d known in the past that praise would affect Leera like this. Every word had her moving faster, made her wetter. The noises she was making were intoxicating.

“Ah!” Leera cried, the combination of Dwight’s deep thrusts and sweet words sending her closer and close to the edge. “Dwight, please!”

Dwight could take a few guesses what she was begging for, using Leera’s hips for leverage as he practically rammed inside her. He leaned up and began kissing and nipping at her neck. He bit at her ear before growling, “Come for me.”

Leera didn’t have to be told twice, her head falling back and her eye squeezing shut as she came hard with a loud, enthusiastic scream. She clung to Dwight the entire time, squeezing around his dick as she rode out her orgasm, never stopping her movements until it was over.

Dwight groaned, chasing his own release as Leera rode through hers. He came hard and deep inside her, with her name on his lips, holding her close as they both began to come down from their high. Dwight left more kisses along Leera’s jawline, struggling to catch his breath.

Leera panted, slowly but surely regaining some semblance of coherence. She hummed happily at the affection, leaning down to nuzzle Dwight’s face. There was some scruff there, she could feel. She was surprised he let it grow out. She then softly kissed the corner of his mouth before leaning her head on his shoulder.

Dwight leaned into the kiss, turning slightly to catch her mouth for a moment before letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He then carefully picked her up and shifted, pulling out of her and adjusting so that they were laying down side by side. He wrapped his arms around Leera’s body, almost protective, burying his face into her now disheveled hair before leaving a gently kiss on her forehead.

Leera ate up all the affection Dwight was giving her, snuggling into his arms and smiling at the kiss to her forehead, She closed her eyes as she got comfortable in his arms. This time had felt differently than all the other times. A new beginning of sorts, perhaps. It really felt like it was. She snuggled in more and gave another nuzzle before finding herself drifting off.

0000000000

When she woke up the next morning, she was alone in Dwight’s bed.

Her brow furrowed as she looked around, wondering where the man had gone off to. She pulled the covers over herself, jumping when a white robot cat appeared in front of her. “Hal, you scared me,” she said with a sigh. “Have...have you seen Dwight?”

Hal gave a quick chirrup, before his blue eyes glowed suddenly brighter. A projected hologram appeared in front of her.

It was Dwight.

“Leera,” he said, looking pained, like he’d just made the most difficult decision of his life. “If you are watching this, than I’m afraid this could be the last time I ever speak to you…

“You see, I know that I am not the one who can grant myself mercy and forgiveness. There are only a handful of people who can. But specifically there is one person at the top of that list, and I don’t believe I will be able to rest until I do what is right for once.

“If I know her, even if she doesn’t kill me...I don’t believe I will be seeing the light of day ever again…”

Leera lifted a hand to her mouth, realization dawning on her. Her chest felt like it was caving in. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen! This wasn’t what she had wanted!

“I...you are important to me. And I know if you ask, Chance will find a place for you. You deserve a life of happiness and comfort. One far away from the one I dragged you into. You deserve better than a monster like me…

“Take care of yourself. And Hal. I guess I did become pretty fond of the little brat.

...Farewell, Leera Ozynite.”

Once the recording was done, Leera couldn’t hold back anymore, bursting into loud, fitful sobs.

#**orange you glad**#smut #slight praise kink

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ladyoutlier · 5 years

Text

Here Today Gone Tomorrow

In which Crowley and Aziraphale inherit the Earth.

[Read on AO3] | [Chapter 2]

Chapter 3: The Moon and I Love You’s

Aziraphale and Crowley’s after-lunch relaxation on the outdoor patio was interrupted before it even began by a sapling which had sprouted right outside the front door. The tree didn’t fit at all in with the surrounding ones. Instead it looked rather demented, taking on a more black tinge than green. Crowley snapped his fingers, and the plant was sucked down into the earth.

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked, following Crowley outside.

“An apple tree sapling.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s getting less and less subtle with each try. It’s actually really funny to watch him struggle.”

“I almost feel bad for him. If, of course, it wasn’t such a despicable thing he’s trying to do.”

“Exactly. If you want to be despicable, you better at least be good at it. It’s just sad otherwise.”

They took a seat at the nice metal table in their front garden. Really it was all one big garden and the need to specify whether it was the front one or the back one was unneeded, but for simplicity’s sake, the table was located in front of the cottage.

“So what’s Plan B on this human making scheme?” Crowley asked, stretching out in the sun.

“Actually, I’m not sure that making a human is what God intended for us.” Aziraphale fiddled with his hands.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just that it is impossible for us to create a living being. Our experiment at the riverbank proved that much.”

“Yeah, but we already knew that before we tried. You still wanted to give it a go anyway. Why the change of heart?”

“I might of had a small conversation with the Almighty when you left.”

“Rather one sided I’d imagine.”

“Less so than usual actually.”

“Oh?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“There was some specific signs in the surroundings that suggested that I, uh, was being heard.”

“Uh, huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“Then, what’s God say? What are we supposed to do?”

“She, well, showed a bit of interest when I discussed our, um, desire to return to our lives.” Aziraphale looked to Crowley to read his reaction, but the demon’s face was stoic. “She lightened up when I expressed interest in spending it with you.”

“So what? God’s playing matchmaker?” Crowley’s face flicked through a series of emotions from embarrassment to spite.

“I, um, don’t know if it’s that far. Rather, I think She just wants us to enjoy each other’s company while here.”

“So just bloody well do what we have been doing?”

“That’s our purpose anyway. Everyone else I’m sure has their own.”

God bit Her lip and looked away. Yeah, everyone else had a purpose too… This wasn’t at all just a drunken impulse that was going rather well considering.

“Well, fine. If we’re just supposed to have a good time, let’s do that. Treat it like an extended holiday.” Crowley stood up. “Let’s go anywhere. World’s our oyster. See the sights. Where you want to go?”

“That’s a very open ended question. We’re already at the nicest place on Earth.”

“Debatable.”

“This might be a bit sooner than I expected, but I’d like to follow up that to the moon and back comment you made last night.”

Crowley smiled. “Coming right out with the big guns, eh? To the moon then.”

While the empty expanses of space would most definitely bring a swift end to any unfortunate humans that found themselves within it, the same can not be said about ethereal and occult beings. As such, Aziraphale and Crowley could find themselves stargazing within the craters of the moon with absolutely no repercussions. It was only mid-evening, but in the universe beyond the planet, it looked as late as midnight.

“In all my time on Earth,” Aziraphale began, staring at the grand blue orb in front of them. “I never took the time to see what the planet looked like from a larger perspective. There is, of course, the miniature in Heaven, but it hardly looks as fantastical as this.”

Of course, to mere mortals, there is no sound in space. If one was able to attempt a conversation on the moon, the other participating party would not be able to hear any of it. However, the rules of reality bend around the will of immortals.

“Haven’t seen it in a while myself.” Crowley stretched an arm out to the stars. “Spent enough time out there in the pre-Earth days.”

“Pre-Earth days?”

“What? Never told you, did I? Helped make some of those. Was a long time ago though.”

Aziraphale took his eyes off the constellations to look at Crowley. “Back when—”

“Yeah, back then. Like I said, long time ago.”

The angel looked back out to the stars. They shone with a bit more of a mischievous glow now that he knew Crowley had played a part in their creation. He had always appreciated the celestial bodies of the universe just as he appreciated every plant, animal, and human on Earth, but now, with this added information, the stars suddenly gained quite a bit of value.

“They’re stunning, dear,” Aziraphale said. “There is a reason after all why humanity has spent the ages staring at them. Do you remember which ones you did?”

“Eh, so so. That blob of ‘em over there. Those speckled ones up there. Just the sporadic oddballs.”

Aziraphale suspected that the demon most definitely knew which ones he had made as well as every name humans had given them. If he didn’t want to go into the specifics, that was fine. Perhaps, it was just that company is what he valued more than conversation right at this moment. Just the two of them off in the stars. Exactly as he had wanted to do during Armageddon.

This was a strange realization for Aziraphale to come to in this happy moment. It disrupted the mood greatly, but he had thought it and now he couldn’t forget it. When Crowley had wanted him to run away to Alpha Centauri together, he had invited Aziraphale to the one thing he still had left from his angel days. All that he had left in regards to faith. Well, it hadn’t worked out then, but now, here they were.

“I’m really glad you took me here, Crowley.”

“Yeah, well the fly up here is Hell in itself, but other than that, it’s no big deal.”

A shooting star darted across the sky and off to somewhere behind the Earth. Instead of a wish, Aziraphale decided on an action. He slid closer to Crowley, and laid his head down on the demon’s shoulder.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s a big deal to me.”

Crowley stiffened as he looked back to Aziraphale. As far as skin on skin was concerned, the angel’s hands were the only thing he was familiar with in the slightest. Their body swap of a couple days ago hardly counted. When they traded bodies, their physical forms merely resembled the other but without the familiar characteristics. That was completely controlled by their ability to act as one another.

Aziraphale putting his head on his shoulder was completely different entirely. With the context and the words he was saying and— It left Crowley more than a bit flustered. He tried to relax. Let his muscles loosen. Allow a smile to fall on his face. He carefully draped his arm around the angel.

“You’re right. I guess it is kind of a big deal.”

Outer space is a frozen wasteland. Without an atmosphere, the sun doesn’t heat anything up. If one was to find themselves cast out of the airlock of a rocket and somehow had the ability to no longer require oxygen, one would quickly freeze to death. However, in this one particular spot on the moon’s surface, the temperature matched that of a glorious summer day. By all known laws of physics, this didn’t make any sense, but God was fine with making an exception just this once.

Elsewhere, an agreement between two parties that very much didn’t agree on anything had been reached. 3,444,684 angels would be returned to Heaven upon the release of 3,713,598 demons back to Hell. It was a messy deal that had caused quite a bit of strain to both sides, and more than a handful of fist fights had spawned from it, but it had been completed and both Above and Below were back on track for normalcy. Although, there was a lot of paperwork that still needed to be done to account for everyone’s new jobs.

It used to be rather simple. Those that worked for Heaven stayed in Heaven and those for Hell in Hell. Now, an angel couldn’t know whether their cubicle neighbor was on the same side as them or not. Still, as strange as times were, loyalties were hard to kill. A demon working for Heaven still had Hell’s goals at heart. It was very hard for everyone to understand, but that was the thing with God. She was rather impossible to understand. Ineffable even.

Not that any of this currently affected the angel and demon stargazing on the moon. No, as far as they were concerned, everything was going perfectly fine.

When Aziraphale and Crowley returned to their cottage in Eden, the sun was just beginning to rise although it still couldn’t be seen above the Wall. They had been out all night, and although they were thousands of years old, they rather felt like giddy teenagers returning home. To tie this whole comparison together, when they opened their front door, Hastur was sat in their living room much like a strict parent would when their child missed curfew. The Duke of Hell rolled an apple about in his hands.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to eat this,” he said, standing.

“C’mon Hastur! This is really pathetic. Giving up this easily,” Crowley replied, striding in.

“Hardly giving up. This is just the last chance I’ll have before I’m given my old job back.”

“What do you mean by that?” Aziraphale asked, joining them inside.

“Deal went through. Heaven and Hell is all sorted, and everyone’s taking their old jobs back. I will be too. Everyone has stopped caring what God intended with these reassignments. Everyone in Hell anyway.”

“Wait. So who’s taking up my job then?” Crowley asked.

“No one. Without humans here, Earth has been designated as a waste of time. I wouldn’t expect to see much of Upstairs down here either.”

“So Above and Below are just leaving us here?”

“Consider it your exile. Have fun, Crowley.” With that, Hastur tossed Crowley the apple and proceeded to sink into the ground back to Hell.

Silence filled the cottage as Hastur’s black smoke dissipated. The sounds of Eden leaked through the walls. The wind hadn’t died down from yesterday, and the rustling flora could easily be heard inside. Crowley threw the apple into the kitchen’s trash bin. He missed, and seeing the demon had no plans to go pick it up, Aziraphale went to properly dispose of the fruit.

“I guess we really got the whole world to ourselves then, angel,” Crowley said as Aziraphale returned.

“You would think they would see more value for the Earth than just the potential to persuade humans to either side.”

“No, I wouldn’t think that at all. It’s all a competition. Remember both Heaven and Hell were dead set on destroying this place for their war.”

“Fair point. It really is a shame. Earth has many grand marvels besides humans.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time in the world to see them.”

The day went on, and many conversations filled the hours. Talks about the past, reminiscing on memories. The first World’s Fair in 1851. Oh, that was a magical day. The many evenings of setting up camp on the Silk Road. It was a tiresome trip even for celestial beings like themselves. The fall of the Roman Empire. A rather sad day for the both of them. Just story upon story upon story.

Somewhere in the mix of things, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves up on the Wall. The Eastern Gate was privy to the company of an angel and a demon yet again, and this time, it was the correct ones. The intimacy of the night before had not disappeared.

“I am going to miss having humans down here with us,” Aziraphale said, swinging his legs over the edge. “Most of our stories involve them in one way or another. The joy or the sadness at what they’ve done.”

“Yeah, hard to cause michieve when you’re the only one here with me. Can glue all the coins I want to the ground. You’ll hardly fall for it more than once.”

“Well, now that you’ve told me, I’m inclined to believe that I’ll never fall for it.”

“I have my ways,” the demon smirked.

The sun was setting behind them. They swapped sides of the gate to watch it. Eden below glowed under the warm orange light. Their cottage was little more than a speck in the sea of green. It was much more quiet up on the Wall than it had been in Eden. Peaceful in its own way.

“As lonely as the world may be with just the two of us in it,” Aziraphale began. “I’m rather glad you’re the one accompanying me here. As much as I love the Earth, I don’t think I would last long on my own. It would become a dreadfully miserable experience fast.”

“Have to agree with you on that one. Painfully boring. And you’re not bad company yourself.”

Aziraphale smiled and laid down. Crowley joined him. It was beginning to get dark and a few shimmering stars began to make their presence known. It wasn’t the same as seeing them from space, but it was still special in its own right. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand. The demon pretended not to notice.

“Crowley?”

“Mmhmm?”

“We’re kind of on our own now, aren’t we?”

“Figured it was that way for a while.” Crowley looked at the moon which was only a thin sliver. “But really became that way for good with the whole End of the World thing.”

“Yes, that’s true I suppose. However, now we’re alone alone. There’s not even mankind to ally ourselves with.”

“Guess so. Thing with humanity was more a figmental alliance anyway though.”

“It was still a comforting thought. That we were a more powerful number than two.”

“You wanted an army, angel?”

“No! Of course not. I—” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eyes and instantly rolled his. “If you keep kidding me like this, I might stop loving you.”

God about spat out the water She had been drinking to fight Her hangover. Crowley had a very similar reaction, minus the drink.

“Sorry? Wha—what was that?”

“I love you.” Aziraphale smiled. He lifted up their joined hands. “What did you think this was about?”

“I dunno. I guess— I mean—just that, well, I thought—I dunno.” Crowley rather frantically ran his free hand through his hair.

“I’m taking the fact that you haven’t removed your hand from mine to mean that the feeling is reciprocated?”

“Yes! Lord—Hell—whatever, yes! Course I love you! Have been since we were here on the first go around.”

“Very glad to hear it.” Aziraphale moved in closer to Crowley, removing all empty space between them. “Would make it difficult to go on for 6000 years without knowing that.”

“Yeah, would be difficult, wouldn’t it? Couldn’t imagine that.”

“Sorry, dear. Hope I can make it up to you.”

“You already have, angel. You really already have.”

The angel and the demon began to feel drowsy although such a thing was not possible. God had gotten Her wish. There was no tap-dancing their way out of this one. Ineffable Husbands was most definitely canon. They had exchanged I-love-you’s. There was no undoing that. As big of a mess as this whole plan had been, somehow it had worked out. And of course it had, She was God after all. Even Her drunk decisions were the right ones. At least that’s how She justified it.

As Aziraphale and Crowley fell asleep in one another’s arms at the very spot the two of them had met, God decided that it was time to restore the world to the way it was. And with that, She flipped the world reset lever back up, and the morning two days after the Apocalypse finally came.

Humans returned to the planet along with the 6 millennia worth of history they had created. A certain Adam Young was fast asleep in bed with his canine friend at his side. A Madame Tracy and a Sergeant Shadwell slept, leaned against one another on a couch with the tele still playing in the background. An Anathema Device and a Newton Pulsifer clung to one another in the bed of a certain Jasmine Cottage. Heaven and Hell, having already sorted out their problems, didn’t notice the restoration of the world. Eventually they would, but for now, they had stacks of paperwork left to attend to.

And Aziraphale and Crowley, had they also not been asleep, would’ve found themselves in a certain Soho bookshop’s back room with a series of empty liquor bottles around them.

When they would wake the next morning, the first thing Crowley would do, after celebrating the return of the world, was miracle a crisp, red apple and take a massive munch out of it, and Aziraphale would be quick to tell him off for letting all that juice run down his face onto his nice carpet. Of course, he wouldn’t actually be mad. In fact, quite the opposite, but they had a banter to keep up.

They would spend the rest of the day wandering. Re-experiencing everything they had grown to take for granted. And their journey would take them to a nice piece of property for sale in South Downs that looked quite similar to the place they had spent the past few days that no longer existed. Of course they would buy it, and it would only be after they did, that they noticed a rather familiar looking statue in the back garden. Now, however, its eyes would be open, and instead of them taking on the grey/brown color the rest of it had, they would be two different colors: one blue and one gold.

[Read My Other Fics]

#Good Omens #Gomens #Ineffable Husbands #Good Omens fic #my writing

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minijenn · 5 years

Text

Universe Falls, Chapter 70, Part 1

Whoops, never posted this on here like this so here ya go. Enjoy!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/187177169134/universe-falls-chapter-69

***

Chapter 70, Part 1: Out Too Far

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A soft, almost soothing gale swept through the dense canopy of trees overhead, trees that proved to be the very first sight he was met with upon opening his eyes. He was initially caught off guard, of course, to be waking up in such a heavily foggy forested area, especially given where he had fallen asleep at, but as he sat up, he quickly discovered that wasn’t the oddest thing about his current situation. For as he glanced down, he found that his own two feet were much more… watermelony than he remembered them being.

He jumped up with an apt cry of alarm, only to find that his voice was oddly distorted, his frightened shot accompanied by a small spray of seeds. He let out as much of a gasp as he could at this, still completely disoriented by this baffling shift to the point of frustration that there seemed to be no explanation to it whatsoever. With a disgruntled huff, he plopped back down to the ground, coughing out a few more seeds before grumbling petulantly to himself incoherently, which was just about the only way he could really communicate like this. But at the very least, he wasn’t as alone as he originally thought he was.

A sudden barking shook up the nearby shrubbery, and a mere moment later, a dog that was, strangely, every bit of a watermelon as he currently was, eagerly popped out. The melon mutt seemed friendly enough, keeping up its excited barking is it ran a quick circle around him and even allowed him to pet it as it rolled around on the forest floor. It was enough to calm him down from his aggravated confusion, though before too long, the pup hopped back to its feet and began to trot on ahead to what looked like a path leading out of the woods. Not really knowing what else to do in his current state, he decided to follow the melon mutt, hoping that it could possibly lead him to some sort of answers.

While not exactly the answers he was hoping for, however, the melon mutt did lead him to something quite impressive. Just past the edge of the rather darkened forest lay a much brighter stretch of cleared out land, and upon that land, a quaint little village had been built. The town consisted of simplistic wooden huts and lush thriving fields, all of which were tended to by a surprisingly large population of living watermelons, most of which were nearly identical to him. From his high vantage point, he watched, fascinated, as the watermelons carried out their tranquil lives. The melons seemed to be sowing their farms for smaller, baby versions of themselves, which, upon being harvested, were subsequently delivered to their new, loving family homes. A number of the other melons kept themselves busy keeping their tiny homes neat and tidy, while others tended to the village’s livestock, which, fittingly enough, were also watermelon creatures, from horses to chickens. And even still, more of the melons were milling about their peaceful home, making music on their makeshift bongos or simply playing casual games of footbag with one another. Overall, the entire society was surprising, but cozy, serene and picturesque as it lay nestled on the far side of Lake Gravity Falls’ Scuttlebutt Island. In fact, the tightly-knit melon community seemed so calm and laidback and obscure that he found it hard to believe that anything could disrupt its contented residents.

Until of course, something did.

He flinched upon feeling the ground suddenly begin to softly rumble under his melon feet, stirring up not only the island’s natural flora and fauna, but the tribe of watermelons who had come to call it home. As if by clockwork, the melons dropped their usual stream of activity the moment a loud gong clamored across the entire village, summoning them all to the monument statue at its center. Curious to see where this was going, he followed after the other melons as they all crowded before who was clearly the village elder based on his ceremonial attire and staff. The elder shook that staff and the rattle attached to it, prompting most of the other watermelons to place a stubby hand to their non-existent noses. All except for one.

He glanced around the crowd of melons, internally wondering what the point of this bizarre routine seemed to be. Of course, he didn’t really get much of an answer as the elder pointed his staff directly at him, directing the other melons to action once more. Before he even really had a chance to react, a group of melons hoisted him up, plopped him down onto a surprisingly elegant carved chair, fitted a flower crown on his head, and painted a bright yellow star on his melon-patterned chest. Then, acting in unanimous, calculated swiftness, almost as if this strange ritual was some sort of regular routine for them, the other melons carried him up the island’s tallest hill, setting him down on the clifftop before quickly slipping away, apparently to take cover behind the cluster of nearby thick pine trees.

Confused, he let out a small grunt, glancing back at the melons who had carried him to this odd perch for no explainable reason. The only answer he received was in the form of one of the watermelons holding their arms out wide, as if to show him what pose he was meant to take. While he still hadn’t the slightest idea about what was going on, he decided to follow suit, facing back towards the open stretch of the vast lake before him. And as he did, he finally got a concrete hint as to what was happening, albeit one that terrified him the moment he saw it, or rather her.

The island rattled much more violently, prompting the other melons to cower tightly behind their trees in fear, especially as the sound of what almost seemed to be shattering glass, or something else entirely, cracked across the entire lake surface. Meanwhile, he froze, watching with growing dread as a massive, malevolent figure began rising up from the murky depths of the lake below before him. A figure he instantly recognized with a panicked, terrified wail when he realized just how close this dangerous fusion was, and just how much hatred brimmed in all four of her sharp, dark green, crazed eyes.

Malachite.

The monstrous fusion let out a fierce roar, stretching out her several limbs, all of which were heavily restrained by the aquatic chains that had once tethered her to the lakebed below. Clearly, the sheet of ice she had trapped herself under had been broken clean through if the scattered ice flats of all shapes and sizes that were now floating to the surface of the water were anything to go by. Even still, Malachite set her sights on him and him alone, her manner vicious and vengeful as her disjointed voice bitterly growled his name. “Steven…”

And just like that, her twisted, powerful form rushed for him. And just as quickly, everything, the fusion, the island, the other watermelons, and the sheer, unabridged horror he was feeling, all completely went black.

***

When Steven snapped awake with an abrupt, startled gasp back at the barn, he found that the ground was still rumbling slightly underneath him. It scarcely gave him much time to make sense of the bizarre, frightening dream he’d just had, especially as everyone else began to take notice of the unexpected earthquake, putting the breaks on their drill preparations entirely.

“Ok, I’m not the only one who felt that, right?” Dipper asked, steadying himself as the ground finally stilled itself once more.

“Felt what?” Amethyst asked, casually oblivious.

“The ground got all shakey just now,” Mabel said. “It hasn’t done that since the portal under the Mystery Shack was getting ready to blow open. You don’t think there’s another one of those anywhere around here, do you?”

“Let’s certainly hope not…” Ford muttered somewhat stiffly.

“Did any of you feel that?!” Peridot exclaimed, rushing out of the barn in an absolute frenzy. “The ground shook! This could be the start of the emergence of the Cluster!” The green Gem took up a spot alongside the chalkboard, where she had hastily drawn a sloppy diagram to prove her point. “Stage 1: slight tremors ever quarter hour. Stage 2: full-scale earthquakes. Stage 3: the Earth is destroyed! We’re running out of time! We need to drill right now!”

“N-now?” Ford gaped, glancing over several sheets of notes and calculations he had written up. “But we’re still not ready! We need at least a few more hours to run final tests to ensure that-”

“Those final tests may not be a luxury we can afford anymore…” Pearl interupted fretfully. “Especially if the Cluster really is that close to breaking free. I hate to say this, but we might just have to risk it and go.”

“No, we don’t!” Steven chimed in, starkly remembering his dream. “Its not the Cluster that’s causing those earthquakes, its Malachite!”

“Malachite?!” the Gems and the twins all exclaimed in unified alarm.

“…What?” Peridot asked flatly, Ford also looking to the young Gem in slight confusion.

“I-I was on the island on the lake,” Steven began to hastily explain, still clearly shaken. “I was in a Watermelon Steven. They have a lovely community, b-but Malachite, she was there! She must have broken through the ice she put in the lake!”

“W-what else did she do?!” Dipper instantly pressed before anyone else could get a word in edgewise. Admittedly, it had been quite some time since he had made an active effort to continue their attempts at splitting the dangerous fusion up, but his strong desire to help Lapis always remained a constant at the back of his mind. And now, upon the revelation that the icy shield keeping her trapped in the dark depths down below was finally gone was more than enough to bring all of his pressing concerns to the forefront. “Did she say anything? How’s Lapis? Did it look like they were finally going to split up?”

Steven shook his head, overwhelmed. “I-I… don’t-”

“Lapis must be losing control,” Garnet concluded in place of the young Gem’s lack of intel. “Soon, Jasper will overpower her and Malachite will be loose.”

“Technically, if she broke through the ice, then she’s already on the lose…” Pearl mused apprehensively. “And so close to town too! Who knows what sort of destruction an unstable fusion like Malachite could be causing, even as we speak!?”

“Uh, I could be wrong, but I think we’re about to find out,” Amethyst said, nodding over to the car that had just pulled up near the barn. Stan stepped out of it, clearly annoyed as he grumbled to himself while trudging over to the gathered group near the drill.

“Ugh, don’t know why I had to drive all the way out here, maybe if somebody decided to build their stupid science fair project closer to the shack then this wouldn’t be a problem…”

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel called, confused. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’ll tell ya what I’m doing out here, kid,” Stan remarked, hands on his hips. “I might as well be acting as the whole town’s messenger boy. Which they better pay me for, cause gas doesn’t come cheap these days.”

“Stanley, could you please get to the point?” Ford pressed, exasperated. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Geez, excuse me, Sixer,” the conman deadpanned back at his brother. “I just thought you’d all like to know that there’s some psychotic 60-foot tall green woman going off on some crazy rampage down at the lake. Half the town’s running around panicking thinking that she’s gonna come ashore and smash everything. Makes me glad the Mystery Shack isn’t next to the lake; after all, I don’t think ‘giant crazy ladies’ is covered by insurance, even if that’s something I actually bothered to pay for.”

“So its true,” Garnet concluded, her tone serious as she adjusted her shades. “Malachite really has broken free, putting innocent many humans at risk. Which means there’s no time to waste. Amethyst, Pearl, we need to get out to the lake as quickly as possible.”

“Oh, I’m already on it, G,” Amethyst smirked as she elbowed Stan in the knee. “Yo, Stan, mind if we bum a ride off of you? I mean, you got a car and like… that old rundown boat we all got on that one time, so you’re… sort of our only option here.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s in it for me?” Stan asked, raising a caustic eyebrow.

“Oh, honestly, Stan, this is an emergency!” Pearl huffed hotly. “You can’t just ask us to-”

“We’ll give you $30,” Garnet succinctly interupted, already offering the money out to the conman.

“Hmph,” Stan initially sneered at the cash. “Luckily for you, you’ve offered me the one thing I can’t refuse: money. Now come on, the quicker we get this taxi service nonsense over with, the sooner I can get back to the shack and get back to doing nothing.”

“W-wait!” Dipper suddenly called, hurrying after the Gems as they began to turn to leave alongside the conman. “Wait! You guys have to take me with you!”

“No,” Garnet quickly rejected, stopping him in his tracks as she raised a calm hand.

“Wha—b-but Lapis-” Dipper attempted to protest, only to be cut off once more.

“We’ll make sure to bring Lapis back safe and sound,” Garnet assured, kneeling down to his level and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I promise. We know just how important saving Lapis is to you, Dipper. But Malachite is far too dangerous and unpredictable, especially as she is right now. Which is why you, Steven, and Mabel all need to stay here and watch over the drill with Ford and Peridot. We may be needing it sooner than later…”

“But, I-”

Dipper found himself silenced once more as Garnet simply raised a quieting finger, simply standing up without another word to join her fellow Gems. The trio took pause only for a moment to confirm with Ford that the drill would be fine in their absence, leaving Dipper to trudge back over to Steven and Mabel in disappointed defeat.

“I can’t believe it,” he huffed crossly to the pair. “After everything we’ve been through, even after I learned how to fight, they still don’t think I can handle something like this!”

“Aw, Dipper, that’s what they think,” Steven reassured, though he couldn’t help but feel like it was indeed true on some level. After all, the Gems were just as well holding him and Mabel back from this momentous mission too, despite the fact that they had already well since proved their grit and fortitude by now. “I’m sure they just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“But what about Lapis?” Dipper shot back intently. “She’s been stuck down there in that lake with Jasper for way too long now, and I’m just supposed to sit by and wait while everyone else goes to save her?! I don’t think so. I’ve got to be there to help her!”

“Uh, I dunno, bro-bro,” Mabel frowned worriedly. “It’s been awhile since any of us—except for Steven—have even seen Malachite. And if she’s still anywhere near as big and scary and angry as she was when Lapis dragged them into the lake, then maybe we should just let the Gems take care of her.”

“But I just… can’t!” Dipper exclaimed, set in his resolve. “I’ve tried waiting on the Gems, and making deals and plans and doing all the research I can and none of its worked! Its time to actually go there and face Malachite, and this might be the only chance I’ll get to do it. I don’t care what the Gems say; I’m going to that lake and I’m going to set Lapis free, no matter what!”

Upon hearing this bold proclamation, Steven and Mabel exchanged a fretful glance, knowing that changing Dipper’s mind, especially on something like this, was hardly an easy feat. It was no secret that he largely blamed himself for Lapis’ self-imposed imprisonment, however irrational that self-blaming might have been. Which would naturally explain why he had always been so intent on helping her by any means necessary, even going to lengths as far and deadly as a disastrous deal they were all reeling from the consequences of even still. And yet compared to that, his drive to go and confront the treacherous fusion in person seemed, amazingly enough, far less dangerous of an alternative. And given just how dangerous and unstable Malachite clearly was, that was saying something.

“…O-ok,” Steven was the first to relent, albeit apprehensively. “If you really think this is something you need to do, then… then you should go. For Lapis.”

“Mm… yeah…” Mabel agreed rather hesitantly, clearly concerned for her admittedly reckless brother’s wellbeing. “But just as long as you promise to be careful, Dipper. None of that self-sacrificy knight stuff this time, ok?”

“Relax, Mabel,” Dipper assured with a small smile as he strapped the Sword of Seasons over his shoulder. “Both me and Lapis will make it back safe this time. I promise. But in the meantime, do you guys mind covering for me with Great Uncle Ford? I have a feeling he’d… probably agree with the Gems about me staying behind.”

“Well… I don’t really know what we could tell him, but, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Steven shrugged.

“Oh, I know! We could always tell him you died!” Mabel exclaimed, playfully dramatic. “That way, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about because he’d think you’re already gone!”

“See, that’s like, the exact opposite of the sort of thing I want him thinking,” Dipper deadpanned, hardly impressed by his sister’s proposal. “Just come up with something simple. Believable. Just until I get back with Lapis.” He paused for a beat, as if to realize the implications of what he had just said. “Whoa… this… really could work this time. She could… finally, finally be set free…”

“Well, if you have anything to do with it, bro-bro, then we know she will,” Mabel said with an encouraging smirk. “If there’s anyone who can help her, then it’s you.”

“Right,” Dipper nodded, choosing to believe that hopeful thought himself as he turned to depart. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck!” Steven called warmly, though perhaps a bit too loudly, something that Dipper quickly corrected him on in his effort to be discreet. “Ooops, I mean, good luck!” the young Gem tried again in a whisper this time as not to arouse the Gems’ attention.

At the same time, Dipper managed to sneak just past the Gems and Ford right as they were concluding their brief conversation. Stan impatiently honking his horn did startle him somewhat as he made his way towards the back of the car, but even still he kept his wits about him as he quietly drew the Sword of Seasons. Carefully, he wedged the very tip of the blade underneath the trunk’s opening, sliding it around a bit until it finally, miraculously popped open. And then, just as quickly, he slid into the open trunk, sword and all, stealthily shutting it just as the Gems themselves took their seats in the vehicle itself. And just like that, they set off towards the lake, completely unaware of the hidden passenger who had just stowed away for the ride.

As the group drove off, things returned to a relative quiet calm around the barn. Steven and Mabel both plopped down somewhat anxiously onto the blanket they had set up on the grass next to the drill, trying to remain as stable as possible amidst the occasional light tremor rippling through the ground beneath them. All the while, Peridot was tinkering away on a few last minute adjustments on the drill while Ford went to go check on something inside of the barn, leaving a tentative silence across the entire barnyard that was only occasionally broken by the low rumbling of the earth itself. That is, until Peridot decided to make a begrudging attempt at conversation.

“So… Lazuli has Jasper trapped in a fusion?” she asked dubiously as she glanced away from her work on the drill briefly. “You’re joking me.”

“Its true!” Steven exclaimed with a frown. “But… Lapis must be getting tired from fighting Jasper for so long, just like Garnet said…”

“Just being on a ship with Jasper made me tired,” Peridot snarked, rolling her eyes.

“W-well, look on the bright side,” Mabel said, forcing a bit of a smile. “At least the Gems are finally going to split them up. Not to mention Dipper…” she muttered her last statement rather worriedly.

“What was that?” Peridot asked, raising an eyebrow.

“N-nothing!”

No more than a second later, the ground suddenly rumbled once more, far more violently than before. It was enough to knock Peridot off her short ladder and down to the kids, who shared a tight breath as they looked down to the distant hills, just past where the lake, the Gems, Malachite, and Dipper were all no doubt starting to clash. “Augh, now I understand what Dipper meant about not being able to just sit around waiting!” Steven groaned, no longer content to simply sit around on the sidelines. “I wanna help them too!”

“But the Gems said it was too dangerous,” Mabel countered, far from fond of the idea of the young Gem throwing himself into such calamity too.

“Why don’t you just disobey them?” Peridot suggested. “Rebel. Isn’t that like, you guys’ thing?”

“Oh, good point,” Steven nodded. “Oh! I know! I’ll fall asleep and go into a Watermelon Steven again! This way, I can help them and be safe at the same time!” Satisfied with his plan, the young Gem lay back down onto the blanket, laughing daringly to himself all the while.

“Wow, you’re a real anarchist,” Peridot deadpanned dryly.

“No one can tell me what to do,” Steven shot back, an air of playfulness in his tone until Mabel leaned over him anxiously.

“Keep an eye on him for me out there, ok?” she whispered, her tone serious and concerned for her brother’s wellbeing.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do,” Steven assured, offering her a warm smile as he closed his eyes before quickly drifting off back to sleep.

Soon enough, the only sound that could be heard was the young Gem’s soft snores as he hopefully succeeded in his endeavor in connecting with yet another one of his watermelon doubles. “So… what are we supposed to do now?” Peridot asked, still rather confused by the situation as a whole.

Before Mabel could offer an answer, Ford cut in, walking over to the group and showing that he was even more out of the loop than the green Gem was as he noticed Steven fast asleep on the ground for no seemingly explainable reason. “Um… did I miss something?”

***

Dipper hadn’t exactly expected riding in the trunk of the car all the way from the barn to the lake to be all too pleasant of a trip, but if there was any one thing he had forgotten to take into account, it was Stan’s poor driving. The entire ride was a bumpy, incredibly cramped ride, given just how cluttered the conman’s trunk was, and as soon as he felt the car finally skid to a rough stop, Dipper couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief that it was finally over. And as soon as it was and the Gems and Stan were out of immediate earshot, he used his sword once again to wedge the trunk open so he could slip out of it.

Since Stan and the Gems had already congregated near the conman’s boat near the dock, Dipper made sure to do his best to stay out of their line of sight as he took the long way to sneak over to the dock himself. As far as he could see, Malachite was nowhere to be found further out on the lake, but, based on the fearful crowd that had gathered relatively close to the shore and Stan’s own testimony, she clearly had been rampaging around the lake at some point. But even if she wasn’t out and about at the moment, the Gems were still intent on finding her and putting an end to her fused existence, a goal that Dipper absolutely shared.

“Are you sure this… ‘boat’ will even be able to get us out to that island?” Pearl asked Stan, looking at his docked dingy dubiously.

“Looks like it’ll sink as soon as he hop on it,” Amethyst chuckled, testing her theory as she jumped onto the boat hard. “Huh, guess ya got lucky.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know this boat has been through plenty of tight spots,” Stan refuted with a scowl. “Like the time me and Amethyst took it down to Santa Monica to bust a whole bunch of sea turtles out of the local zoo.”

“Those turts deserved to be the masters of their own destinies,” Amethyst agreed with a playful salute.

“So yeah, if it can handle that, then I’m pretty sure it can handle a whack or two from some four-legged monster woman,” the conman rebuffed, crossing his arms.

“Then let’s get going,” Garnet urged, taking a seat on the boat next to Amethyst. In turn, Stan sat down next to the engine and rudder, and while a bit more hesitant, Pearl eventually got on board, though she did so very lightly, considering just how tightly packed the boat already was. And, without any further deliberation, the conman revved the boat’s engine (after pounding it a few times to get it to start) and they were off. Fortunately, from wherever she was under the surface of the water, Malachite didn’t seem to notice the relatively tiny vessel as it skipped across the water towards the fog-drenched Scuttlebutt Island. For over the course of a relatively quiet, relatively short trip, the group arrived on the island’s nearsided shore, with the Gems not wasting any time in disembarking the moment it pulled up onto the brittle sand.

“Thank you, Stan,” Garnet said, turning back to the conman as he boredly leaned against his boat. “You should head back to town. Things are going to get messy around here very soon. Trust me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, shades,” Stan sneered, preparing to climb back into his boat. That is, until he happened to catch a sudden odd glint on its otherwise empty wooden bottom. “Huh?” Confused, he reached down, realizing that this glint came from the metal of a blade he knew he hadn’t brought with him. A blade that was quickly withdrawn back under the seat it had been peeking out from under the moment he skimmed it. And of course, based on that, it didn’t take Stan very long at all to figure out what was going on here. “Alright, kid, the jig is up,” he said, reaching under the seat in full and grabbing a fistful of his nephew’s vest in the process. Dipper gasped in surprise as the conman hoisted him up, giving him a broad, disapproving look, one that the Gems all shared as they realized he had secretly followed them along.

“O-oh, uh… h-hey, you guys!” he laughed uncomfortably. “Crazy seeing you all here too, huh?”

“Dipper!” Pearl exclaimed, baffled by this reveal. “What on earth are you doing here?! I thought we told you to stay behind at the barn with Mabel and Steven!”

“Y-yeah, you did,” Dipper glanced away sheepishly as Stan finally set him down. “I just… didn’t really choose to listen to you guys on that? Though, I guess that’s kind of obvious since I’m here in the first place…”

“Kid, how’d you even get out here?” Stan asked, arms crossed. “Don’t tell me you stowed away in my trunk. Cause if you did… well, I gotta say I’m kinda impressed. Guess you have more of my genes in you than Ford’s. Heh, remind me to rub that in his face later.”

“Stan! Don’t encourage this kind of behavior!’ Pearl huffed, annoyed.

“Dipper,” Garnet spoke up, her tone stern yet steady. “You know we only told you to stay behind for your own safety.”

“I do know, but you guys don’t have to worry about me!” Dipper insisted, drawing his sword. “I can defend myself, and maybe I won’t even have to do that if I can just find a way to reach Lapis somehow. Who knows? Maybe I might even be able to convince her to unfuse!”

“Convince her?” Amethyst asked, incredulous. “Dude, have you even seen Malachite? She’s like, completely bonkers! I don’t think just talking to her is really gonna solve this one. Though I’ll give you points for coming up with a very Steveny way to deal with it.”

“But I-” Before Dipper could argue his stance any further, the entire island suddenly shook from its very foundation, nearly knocking the entire group to the ground. The entire surface of the lake seemed to ripple, until the shifting waters practically turned into waves. And from those waves, on the far side of the island but still in sight of the group on its shore, a massive shape began to emerge, thrashing against the chains that had once held her down violently and growling in her heated struggle all the while.

“It… it’s her…” Dipper whispered in shock the moment he saw her. All at once, it was as though he had been struck by the very same anguish he had felt when he had first watched her drag herself into the depths far too long ago. The pain he had felt in all of his failed and futile efforts in trying to get her back. But not again, not today. For today he resolved to push that pain aside in the hopes that he could finally be free from it, that they could both finally be free once and for all.

“Stan, get back on the boat and take Dipper back to town,” Garnet ordered firmly. “Now.”

“No!” Dipper protested, though before he could rush forward, Stan swiftly grabbed him by the arm.

“Listen, kid, just because you’ve got some kinda crazy death wish doesn’t mean I do,” the conman remarked as he began to drag his nephew back towards the boat. “Now c’mon, let’s skip outta here while we still can.”

No sooner had Stan said this, however, then a massive wave, caused by Malachite’s continued fearsome struggling against herself, suddenly burst out of the water and crashed onto the shore. Amethyst acted quickly, shifting herself into an umbrella large enough to shield the entire group, lest they be carried away by the water entirely. But what hadn’t been spared was Stan’s boat, which was easily dragged out of the shore’s reach when the wave quickly retreated. Given how tumultuous the lake’s surface already was thanks to the restless fusion, it didn’t take long for yet another high wave to overwhelm the small boat entirely, snapping it clean in half before dragging both halves down into the depths.

“Nooooo!” Stan cried, running out into the shallows to try and salvage his sinking ship. “My boat!”

“Well, that’s… convenient,” Dipper noted largely to himself before turning back to the Gems with a triumphant grin. “Oh well, looks like you guys have to let me stay here and help after all.”

“No, we don’t,” Pearl shook her head, adamant. “Both of you need to find somewhere to hide where Malachite won’t be able to see you. As destructive and out of control as she is, there’s no telling what she’d do if she spotted two humans in her range.”

“Oh, come on!” Dipper sighed petulantly, getting incredibly tired of being told no on this matter.

“No, you come on, kid,” Stan reiterated, grabbing Dipper’s arm once more and more or less dragging him towards the island’s dense forest. “It’s bad enough I lost my only boat, I’m not about to lose my only life too. Oh, and uh, you I guess.”

Dipper scowled, quite disgruntled as the conman forced him just past the tree line and into the woods. However, just past that tree line happened to be pair of Watermelon Stevens, completely oblivious to the danger that was only just beginning to beset their peaceful island home. Instead, they were simply content to enjoy playing their makeshift bongos together, or at least they were until one of them suddenly seized up and collapsed to the ground before snapping back to life just as quickly.

When Steven awakened, it didn’t take him very long to realize that his aim had been successful. For sure enough, with a single glance down, he found the short, green, stubby legs of one of his watermelon doubles rather than his own. The young Gem allowed himself a small celebratory cheer at this (or as much of a cheer as he could get out since his speech was quite limited in this form) before quickly getting up and rushing down to the shore, leaving a very confused other Watermelon Steven behind.

All the same, Steven broke out of the woods only to find the Gems, standing together against Malachite, who was still engrossed in a struggle all her own to the point that she hadn’t even noticed their presence yet. “Alright,” Garnet said, extending her hands out to her teammates. “Let’s put an end to this.”

Pearl and Amethyst agreed, simultaneously breaking into a synchronized, smooth dance towards Garnet, who did the same as she remained stationary. And as the trio met, with hardly any effort at all, their forms lit up, joining together and rising up to form a force that would finally be enough of a match for Malachite herself: Alexandrite.

At the same time, Malachite’s own internal fight only seemed to intensify as she tugged hard against her aquatic chains and manacles. For weeks now, the bonds had remained steady and constant, Lapis’ own intense fortitude and resolve proving enough to weigh them both down. However, Jasper wasn’t the type to let herself stay buried under the surface for too long, and sure enough, she had brutishly pushed her way past the blue Gem’s restraints, entirely bursting free from them entirely.

“Augh! Give UP!” the twisted fusion shouted, her disjointed voice echoing across the lake. With one final, fierce pull, the watery chains snapped, at last releasing Malachite, or rather, her more vicious half from her lengthy imprisonment. “Finally…” she grinned, rubbing her wrist where the manacles had once held her. “I’m impressed. You really held out.”

“MALACHITE!” Alexandrite’s fearsome shot rippled across the water as the powerful fusion splashed into the shallows of the lake herself, ready to square off. While initially surprised, Malachite sneered as she turned to her, recognizing well the group of Gems that this opposing fusion was composed of.

“Hmph, they’re here. Figures they’d come running to protect all those stupid humans,” the twisted fusion turned her nose up at the crowd of townsfolk still spectating on the distant main shore. Even so, as submerged in their shared mind as she now was, Malachite’s other half growled in protest at the thought of exactly who might possibly be within that group. “Ugh! Stop!” she hissed, forcing her other half back into the darkness of their fusion’s existence. “Pathetic! Don’t you see? We’ve been holding us back for too long! And for what? If we’re going to be this thing together, why don’t we have some fun?”

“We don’t have to fight!” Alexandrite appealed, all six of her hands clenched into tight fists. “You’re outnumbered.”

Malachite didn’t respond right away, bowing her head low as she tightened her own fists for battle. As she did, two similar arms rose up from the water, composed entirely of liquid and just as ready for the fray ahead as she was. “I may be outnumbered… but you’re out of your depth!” With two swift sings, the water fists both slammed into Alexandrite, catching her off guard and sending her stumbling back in the water, unsteady but hardly ready to fall to pieces so easily. “I can’t wait to tear you Gems apart!”

Back on the island’s shore, Steven gasped fearfully as he watched the titan-sized fusions violently clash, sending another round of dangerous waves tumbling to the shore. The young Gem hurried out of their path and onto a small bluff, watching as Malachite and Alexandrite exchanged blows afar off in the distance. By all accounts the fusions seemed to be matched in size and strength, but if there was anything Malachite had over her opponent, it was sheer, utter ruthlessness on her side. The twisted fusion went in for low blows, ones that Alexandrite was only barely able to ward off with her lower arms and slighter frame. Not helping matters were Malachite’s aquatic powers, as well as the fact that she had plenty of water at her disposal all around her to weaponize against her foe. Even within the first few moments of the battle, Steven could tell that Alexandrite was struggling to get a hit in edgewise, which could certainly prove to be a problem when it came to taking Malachite out in the long run. But as he watched their intense fight, the young Gem couldn’t help but worry about the danger he knew such a fight could pose to someone else he knew was on this very same island.

Hoping that Alexandrite could continue to hold her own, Steven hesitantly turned away from the brawl and ran back into the woods instead. His current watermelon body wasn’t exactly well-suited for trekking through the forest, but he forced himself to make to, keeping a close eye out for any signs of Dipper all the while. And sure enough, it didn’t take him too long to catch wind of his friend amidst the clear complaining he was making essentially no effort to keep quiet about.

“But this is stupid!” Dipper huffed as he paced around the small clearing him and Stan had taken up shop in. “What’s the point of me going through all this training to sword fight if I can’t even use it when it matters most?!”

“Hey, don’t hassle me about it, kid,” Stan remarked, casually leaning against a nearby tree. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t run out there and get yourself killed by that big wacko broad you seem so deadest on running right up to with nothing but a dinky sword.”

“Well, maybe if you actually understood why I’m so deadest on doing that, then you’d actually let me go!” Dipper argued intently.

“Well, too bad for you, cause I don’t really care,” Stan crossed his arms, though his expression softened somewhat when he noticed Dipper’s obviously downcast expression. “…Ugh, look, Dipper. I know you and your sister have had a bunch of close calls with all this Gem stuff this summer. And you may have gotten lucky enough to make it out of all of those tight spots until now, but all it takes is for one unlucky call to bring everything to a screeching halt.”

“Heh, that’s funny, coming from you,’ Dipper retorted somewhat crossly. “Weren’t you the guy who spent half his life risking it on the road as a drifter?”

“Hey, I never ran into danger,” Stan countered. “In fact, I spent most of my time trying to get out of it. And that’s something you’d be smart to try for yourself too, kid.”

“Ugh, I’m not trying to run into danger,” Dipper shook his head bitterly, glancing away. “I’m trying to-” He suddenly cut himself off as a small, smooth form latched itself onto him in the form of a tight side hug. Startled, Dipper glanced over, only to see none other than one of the countless Watermelon Stevens that had wandered off into the woods quite some time ago now. “Whoa, uh… hi?” he laughed somewhat uncomfortably as he pulled himself out of the watermelon’s hug. “Huh, I guess Steven wasn’t kidding when he said these guys moved all the way out here.”

“Hmph, and to think, I could’ve been makin’ money off of them all this time!” Stan scowled as he poked the Watermelon Steven with a stick. “Suckers would pay a fortune to be ferried out here to look at a whole bunch of weirdly shaped watermelons. Could’ve sold merch and everything! Huh, you know, maybe after all this giant woman stuff has settled down, that might not be such a bad idea…”

As the conman began plotting out his next moneymaking scheme, the Watermelon Steven clung onto Dipper’s arm once more, its expression apparently distressed as it spoke in a series of unintelligible grunts and murmurs. “Uh… sorry,” Dipper frowned, aptly confused as he pulled away from the watermelon once more. “We’re kind of in the middle something here.” He paused for a beat, glancing over at Stan, only to find that he was still completely engrossed in thoughts over his new potential tourist trap. “Or… I guess I’m in the middle of something. If only I could find a way to get up close to Malachite on my own, without Stan or the Gems getting in my way! If I did, I know I’d be able to do… something to finally split them up!”

Steven faltered as he listened in on Dipper’s fretful aspirations, understanding well the noble intentions behind them. As he had said, he had been waiting for this chance for so long now, and yet it seemed as though everyone else was intent on holding him back from taking it. And while the young Gem also understood where Stan and the Gems were coming from, he couldn’t help but sympathize with Dipper’s side of things just a bit more, especially all of the lengths he had already gone through to set Lapis free thus far.

Dipper was soon broken out of his worried thoughts by another soft nudge from the Watermelon Steven. Confused, he glanced over at it just as it put a finger to its hardly visible mouth, silently instructing him to stay quiet. Dipper raised an eyebrow at this but ultimately listened, watching curiously as the watermelon stepped over to Stan and, quite easily, given how internally distracted the conman currently was, swiped the $30 dollars Garnet had given him earlier clean out of his pocket.

“Wha—Hey!” Stan flinched the moment he realized his pocket had been picked. He grew even more surprised an outraged the moment he glanced up to see the Watermelon Steven, waving the cash high in the air as it ran off into the forest. “Hey! You get back here with my money, you little punk, or I’ll turn you into a delicious fruit salad!”

Without missing a beat, the conman chased after the Watermelon Steven, intent on getting his bribe back. Of course, Dipper couldn’t help but feel both amazed and immensely relieved as he watched his uncle disappear into the trees, realizing that, oddly enough, that Watermelon Steven had given him the perfect window of opportunity. And that was a window he certainly wasn’t about to pass up.

The island shuddered once more as Malachite slammed Alexandrite into it hard, knocking down several trees in the process. With her opponent as winded by the brutal blow as she was, the twisted fusion took her opening and used her incredible strength to hoist Alexandrite into the air, spinning her a bit before flinging her across the open lake. The fusion splashed heavily into the depths of the water, leaving Malachite to revel in her momentary victory.

“Ha! They don’t stand a chance,” she sneered triumphantly, ready to launch herself right back into the fray she was confidently starting to win. But, just before she could, a small, but prominent shout happened to catch her attention.

“Hey!” Dipper yelled as loud as he could from the high bluff he had found a perch on not too far away from the twisted fusion. The Sword of Seasons had already been drawn, held tightly brandished in his hand as he stood as firmly as he could. Even so, time seemed to freeze as Malachite spun around to face him, putting him face to face with the very cause of so much of his sorrow, pain, and frustration for so many weeks now. He’d had more than a few nightmares where Malachite featured front and center ever since she had first formed that fateful morning; but now, actually facing her in the flesh was something different altogether. A sizable spark of dread rushed through him, the terror of not only the precarious position he had put himself in in opposing someone of her surmountable size and strength, but looking into the very face of all his ongoing fear and grief put together. But even so, he knew he had to face her this time. He had to put an end to this once and for all. Lapis’ freedom depended on it.

Even so, despite all of the courage he was forcing himself to have, nothing could have quite prepared Dipper for the sheer, absolute look of raw fury burning in all four of Malachite’s eyes the second she caught sight of him. “You…” she growled, the half of her voice that was Jasper’s easily taking precedent over Lapis’. Even so, Dipper stood his guard, even as the twisted fusion turned towards him fully, towering over him with malice and hatred brimming in her expression. “Its YOU!” she shouted this time, her voice booming across the entire island. “You’re that human she cares so much about! The one she won’t stop thinking about! The reason why she dragged us down and kept us trapped here for so long in the first place!”

Dipper flinched somewhat at this, the all too familiar reminder of Lapis’ resolve stinging him deeply even still. And yet, he was just as quick to remind himself of what he had learned since the last time he had seen Malachite. That the weight of the blue Gem’s momentous sacrifice for him was not his to bear, at least not alone. And he knew that was something that she needed to hear just as much as he once had. “L-Lapis,” he began, unsteadily at first, though he forced himself to be firm for her sake. “Lapis, listen to me, I-”

“Lapis is GONE!” Malachite screamed, slamming a fist down onto the ground beside Dipper. The resounding quake nearly cost him his footing entirely, but he somehow remained steady, even as the twisted fusion laid the blame with him once again. “And its ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Despite her wrath, Malachite started in surprise when bright electric sparks began to illuminate from Dipper’s sword as he gripped it tightly with both hands. “No,” he began quietly, though his volume quickly picked up as he rushed straight for the twisted fusion, ready to attack, ready to fight, ready to bring this struggle to an end at long, long last. “It’s not!”

Propelled by impulse and adrenaline alone, Dipper essentially jumped off of the cliff towards Malachite, the Sword of Seasons raised and ready to be brought down in a brutal attack. However, it was an attack that never landed, for right before he could reach the twisted fusion, she used her massive size and strength to her advantage against him. With a single swipe of one of her large hands, she easily knocked him back onto the very bluff he had jumped off of. Fortunately, he landed on solid ground, though he did so roughly, his back striking the hard soil first and jarring his entire body with hot pain as he rolled back into the nearby trees. Somehow, he managed to keep his sword in hand the entire time, though he barely paid it any mind as disoriented as he was, his head swimming and his numerous cuts already steadily bleeding. Even so, as he began to attempt to pick himself up, he noticed Malachite, still at the edge of the cliff and still staring at him piercingly, ready to finish what she had just started.

Yet before she could, another bold shout pulled her right out of the moment. Finally having recovered from Malachite’s throw, Alexandrite had emerged from the lake and was racing back towards the twisted fusion, fire brimming out of her lower mouth as she let out a fearsome battle cry. “Ugh, what a bunch of pests,” Malachite scoffed coldly, turning to face her larger foe, though not before sending a final hateful glance back at Dipper. “I’ll take care of you when I finish them off.”

Not sparing him another word, the twisted fusion launched herself at Alexandrite, the tendrils of water she controlled helping her in the reignited fray. At the same time, Dipper half-leaned, half-collapsed against a nearby tree, taking stock of his new injuries as he watched, dismayed, as Malachite got away from him yet again. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a chance to make another attempt as the same Watermelon Steven from before suddenly popped into his frame of vision.

“Wha—you again?” Dipper asked, incredulous to the point that he didn’t even notice the watermelon’s fretful look as it seemed to glance over his wounds. “Look, thanks for what you did earlier, but I don’t have time to mess around. I’ve got to-”

“You’ve gotta what?” Dipper realized his window of opportunity slammed shut the moment Stan stepped out of the woods, hardly pleased with his nephew if his cross expression was anything to go off of.

“G-Grunkle Stan! I-I was just-”

“Save it, kid,” Stan interupted. “I know exactly what you were doing. I’m not blind after all, I can see just how beaten up your crazy little suicide mission has gotten you. When are you finally gonna listen to me when I tell you to stay out of any Gem stuff that could get you killed before you even know it?!”

“W-well when are you gonna listen to me when I tell you that I have to do this!?” Dipper countered fiercely, refusing to back down in this fight as much as he wouldn’t give up in the struggle against Malachite. “Lapis is so important to me, she’s one of my best friends! And she’s stuck inside of… of that!” He threw an arm out towards Malachite just as she landed another heavy blow on Alexandrite. “And this might be my only chance to save her! Which is why I don’t care how dangerous it is, or how long it might take, or what you or the Gems say. I’m going to help her, no matter what!”

Stan practically froze upon hearing such an earnest resolve, one that he couldn’t deny sounded incredibly familiar. In fact, it only seemed to hit closer to home as he watched tears of desperation start to well up in his injured nephew’s eyes as he looked out towards the twisted fusion once more. “W-why can’t you and the Gems just understand that?” Dipper asked morosely. “Why won’t you just give me a chance to try?”

The conman let out a long sigh at this, overwhelmed by just how much of himself he was currently seeing in his downcast nephew right now. Which was why, with rare sincerity, Stan knelt down to his level, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he spoke to him seriously, but respectfully all the same. “Dipper… I do understand. Do you really think I would’ve spent 30 years trying literally everything I could to get my brother back from some nutso nightmare dimension if I didn’t? I guess… I just thought you wanted to prove yourself to the Gems or something, just like you’ve been trying to do all summer, which is why ya keep trying to rush into a fight you might not be able to win.”

“I don’t care about that!” Dipper exclaimed, some of his tears finally falling. “All I care about now is getting Lapis back. That’s all I’ve cared about for a long time now.”

“…You really wanna save her, huh?” Stan frowned as he glanced out to the fighting fusions himself. “…Ok. Then let’s do it.”

“W-what?” Dipper asked, genuinely surprised.

“Let’s save her,” Stan reiterated with a broad grin as he rose to stand. “I may not be too fond of the idea of you rushing at a crazy, water-controlling broad with nothing but a sword, but… maybe between the two of us, we might just be able to come up with something better.”

Needless to say that upon hearing this, Dipper was unable to hold back a wide, grateful smile as he caught his uncle off guard with a sudden, unexpected hug. “Thank you,” he said, softly but warmly, so incredibly glad that Stan of all people was the one to give him this much-needed chance.

The conman briefly returned his nephew’s fond grin before ultimately shaking it off, gently pushing him away for the sake of maintain his gruff demeanor. “Alright, that’s enough, kid. After all, I don’t want you gettin’ all soft and sappy on me, especially when we’ve got a job to do.”

Dipper laughed a bit at this, finally wiping his eyes dry as he nodded confidently. “Right.”

However, before the pair could begin coming up with any sort of new plan, a massive splash near the shallows of the island quickly diverted their attention. It was immediately followed by a sinister cackle from Malachite herself, who had managed to pin Alexandrite down and was proceeding to dish out hit after hit with one of her lower hand-like legs.

“Yeesh, those three are really getting their a—t-their butts handed to them, aren’t they?” Stan asked, somewhat concerned.

“We’ve gotta do something to something to help them before she tears them to shreds!” Dipper said, cringing as Alexandrite recoiled from a particularly brutal blow. “Literally…” His train of thought was soon interupted however, by the Watermelon Steven as it tugged on his arm rather desperately. “What? What is it?” Dipper asked, only to be answered by a series of panicked, seemingly nonsensical grunts. “Uh… sorry. I have… no idea what you’re trying to say.”

Steven let out a long, frustrated groan at this, quite annoyed by his very limited capacity to communicate in this form, especially at a high-stakes moment like this. Admittedly, the young Gem was at just of much of a loss about what to do to help his guardians as Dipper and Stan clearly were, that is. That is, until he happened to remember that they weren’t the only ones on hand on the tiny island.

With a new, fledgling idea in mind, Steven readily pulled Dipper’s arm once more, determined on bringing him along to help him carry it out. However, still not understanding the watermelon’s intent, Dipper quickly pulled his hand away, rather frustrated by the distraction in general when his focus should have been on Malachite instead. “Ugh, stop!” he huffed, irritated. “I already told you, I don’t have time to play! I’m trying to do something really important here!”

“So am I,” is what Seven would have said if he was capable of it. But instead, he simply let out a relenting sigh, knowing that if Dipper wouldn’t go along with him, he’d just have to help him, the Gems, and Lapis in a different sort of way. And so, without making any further futile attempts at convincing his friend to go with him, Steven retreated alone, leaving a very confused Stan and Dipper behind as he went off to accomplish his own ends.

Despite the island being continually shaken by the ongoing brawl, Steven didn’t stop running through the woods, recalling what his dream had shown him to locate exactly what he was looking for. And soon enough, he happened upon it: the small, quaint, homely village all the other Watermelon Stevens called home. However, the town seemed to be completely abandoned and eerily silent, a far cry from the vibrant, bustling community he had seen within his dream. Fortunately though, he didn’t have to wonder where all of his watermelon doubles had gone for too long as a sudden anxious bark caught his attention. Sure enough, the very same Melon Mutt from his dream was hurrying through the village’s empty pathways, growing even more agitated as it reached him. The pup hopped urgently, seemingly pleading with the young Gem to follow it, and given his limited options at the moment, that’s exactly what Steven decided to do.

And it was a good thing he did, for the Melon Mutt ended up leading him to a cave, tucked away within the woods and obscured by foliage to keep it hidden out of sight. And, within that cave, was the entire population of Watermelon Stevens. The entire collection seemed to be cowering in fear in their cramped hiding space, making sure to stay out of sight of the monstrous fusion besetting their once-peaceful home. However, when Steven looked over the frightened group, he didn’t see a crowd of threatened, anxious natives; he saw a genuine opportunity, one that just needed to be inspired into action to finally fight back.

Which was why the young Gem took up a perch on a small rock near the front of the cave, shouting over the various fretful whimpers of the other melons to call them all to order. Despite the fact that he couldn’t exactly speak normally, Steven hoped he could still at least speak their language as he began a zealous speech of grunts and wails. To any outsider listening in, said speech probably wouldn’t have made much sense, but the young Gem still persisted anyway, essentially calling his fellow melons to arms against the threat posed to their home, or more specifically, to the aid of the trio of Gems also trying to stop her. At first, Steven didn’t seem to be gaining much traction with the other watermelons, that is, until one of them began to chime in with his enthusiastic cheers. It didn’t take long for more of them to follow suit, a wave of determined rebellion sweeping through the entire group as they abandoned their fear to protect their community.

Fueled by this determination, the Watermelon Stevens emerged from their hiding spot, rushing to fashion any sort of weapon they could from sticks and rocks. While their arms weren’t exactly anything powerful or substantial, they still rallied themselves together all the same, forming a single file march towards the island’s shore with one unified goal in mind: to put an end to Malachite’s wrath once and for all.

Such aid couldn’t come too soon either as Malachite shoved Alexandrite towards the island once more, successfully pinning her down to the ground again. “You know, you’re right,” the twisted fusion began, a hint of mocking in her distorted voice. Alexandrite hardly paid her any mind, however, as she struggled against her forceful hold, all while building up her fiery breath to retaliate. She didn’t get the chance, however, as Malachite landed a swift slug across her jaw, quelling her flames altogether and stunning her even more. “There really is something to this fusion thing! It’s not just a cheap trick.” Malachite kept her momentum up as she grabbed Alexandrite by the legs and threw her out into the lake once more. “You’ve really shown me a whole new world of possibilities!”

Based on how many blows she had taken over the past several moments alone, it was truly a feat that Alexandrite had managed to maintain her fusion thus far. However, as she struggled to pick herself up out of the lake, her form finally began to waver a bit, light enveloping her as her face began to shift and destabilize. She let out a loud shout of protest at this, gripping her own arms tightly as the trio of Gems that composed her rushed to maintain their united form. “Keep it together!” she warned herself, even as her voice began to split just as much as her body was.

“Allow me to thank you!” Malachite called as she caught up to the other fusion. Using her own hands to mimic the motion, she called upon the lake water once again, forming a sizable set of hands that were more than enough to entrap Alexandrite entirely. Despite her efforts to break free, the aquatic hands all too soon began to crush her, especially as they turned into solid, seemingly unbreakable ice. “Sorry,” Malachite sneered, ready to obliterate her all but defeated foes altogether. “But there’s only room for one abomination on this measly planet!”

The twisted fusion let out a smug laugh at her apparent victory, though it was short lived as a stone suddenly struck her across the side of her arm. Confused and already annoyed, Malachite turned to where the rock had come from, only to find Stan standing on the closest edge of the island, wielding a full handful of pebbles to use as further ammunition.

“Hey! Tall, green, and angry!” Stan shouted fiercely. “Why don’t ya pick on someone not your size for a change?!”

“Ugh… more humans?!” Malachite asked with an incredulous sneer.

“N-no!” Alexandrite grunted, unable to free herself from the icy hands restraining her to rush to the conman’s rescue. “Stop!”

The fusion’s warnings were all but unheard however, as the ice suddenly melted, allowing the watery hands to move in order to toss Alexandrite past even the lake itself and out into the forest far beyond it. “I guess I have no choice but to deal with you puny pests now instead of later…” Malachite growled, turning to face Stan fully.

“…Heh, y-yeah,” the conman laughed nervously as he realized just how high the twisted fusion towered over him. “About that…” Stan never finished as he instead simply turned on his heel and rushed off back into the woods. Outraged as she already was, Malachite gave chase, working her way around the island while keeping the current target of her fury in her sights all the while. She only lost track of him as he made it into a patch of underbrush obscuring a clearing, which allowed him to tag out of this dangerous mission so Dipper could take over instead.

“G-geez, I’m really outta shape…” Stan huffed, breathless as he leaned against a tree from the lengthy run. “I hope you know what you’re doing here, kid.”

“So do I…” Dipper took in an anxious breath, readying his sword as he emerged from the clearing, determined to make this work this time.

At the same time, Malachite let out another frustrated growl, brushing her hand through the woods and easily knocking down several trees in the process. “Where are you, you little—AUGH!” The twisted fusion recoiled her hand back as it met with a sharp, fiery surface, one that didn’t leave any lasting damage, but still caused quite a bit of pain. Her fury only seemed to grow tenfold as she looked to the edge of the forest, only to find the elemental sword that had injured her and the tiny but stalwart human clinging onto it. “You again…” she hissed, glaring down at Dipper piercingly.

“Lapis, I need you to listen to me,” Dipper began, largely ignoring Malachite to begin his appeal all over again. “I know you’re still in there; I know you’re not gone! And I know you’re strong enough to fight back against her and win! A-and I know I don’t have any right to ask you for anything else after… after all this, but please-” He paused, making direct, purposeful eye contact with the massive fusion towering over him in the hopes that he could somehow, some way reach something deeper within her fearsome exterior. “That’s what I need you to do right now. F-for me...”

Despite his earnest pleas, Malachite simply let out a cold chuckle over them, hardly phased by his desperate words at all. “Oh, come on. You really think your useless begging is gonna do anything to-” Out of seemingly nowhere, the twisted fusion sharply cut herself off, clutching her head as she let out an agonized roar. All Dipper could do was watch as she stumbled back, seemingly struggling against herself once more, though this time he followed her out as much as he could until he was standing on the edge of the island’s cliff once more, watching and hoping with everything he had that his appeal had somehow worked.

Malachite released another raw, seemingly anguished scream, though as her eyes opened once more, they all focused on Dipper, each one wide with alarm and shock as she stared down at him. “D-Dipper…?” she asked, her voice surprisingly soft, though it was clear Lapis was taking an edge over Jasper in it.

“L-Lapis!” Dipper shouted, just as stunned as the twisted fusion herself seemed to be. “Is… is that really you?”

Malachite didn’t answer right away, her breathing harsh and heavy as she looked down at her steadily shaking hands. “I… I-I don’t—ENOUGH!” She erupted into a brutal shout, punching herself hard in the jaw as her more vicious half wrenched back control once again. “I won’t let you push me back under the surface again! I’m in charge here now, and I’m not giving that up! Especially not over some worthless, pathetic, puny HUMAN!”

Before Dipper could even react to this outburst, Malachite lashed out, controlling a swath of water to slam directly into him. The force of the attack was easily enough to sweep him off his feet as well as knock the Sword of Seasons out of his hand entirely. In fact, it even barely briefly sent him reeling into unconsciousness as he fell fast towards the lake, though what ultimately snapped him awake once more was Malachite’s hateful threats aimed towards him. “Just give up already! Nothing you do is ever going to bring her back! It’s over, and YOU LOST!”

This fierce proclamation was the last thing Dipper heard before he splashed down into the water, only half awake as he quickly began to drift down into the depths. The Sword of Seasons fell in right after him, sinking much faster to the point that it was soon lost to the lake entirely. Even so, Dipper hardly noticed as he simply stared up at the surface of the water, barely cognizant enough to realize he was slipping further and further away from it with each passing second as his vision began to blur and his lungs began to burn with the need for air that wasn’t there. In fact, he had all but blacked out entirely until he noticed a striped green hand reaching out for his from above. His misted mind briefly thought it was Malachite herself somehow, but he was quickly proven wrong as he was suddenly pulled up to the surface to find that his rescuer was none other than the very same Watermelon Steven who had been sticking by his side throughout this entire endeavor.

The most Dipper could really do was weakly cough the water out of his chest as the Watermelon Steven clung onto him and swam him back to shore. They arrived to the other melons all assembling for their own battle against the twisted fusion, but the soaked pair hardly paid them any mind as they took to a less populated area of the beach to recover. The Watermelon Steven sat close by Dipper’s side as he collapsed into the sand and tried to regain his lost breath, only to end up choking on sobs in the process. The melon flinched, surprised and instantly concerned, especially as he watched Dipper sit up and tightly wrap his arms around himself, weeping miserably all the while.

“S-she’s right…” he cried, clearly heartbroken to the point that he refused to even so much as look up at Malachite as she kept an eye out for Alexandrite’s inevitable comeback. “It really is over… I’ve tried everything, everything I know how to do to help her. I waited and watched and gave so much all so I could find a way to bring her back and none of it worked! Everything I’ve done up until now… everything I’ve been through… i-it was all for nothing…”

Unable to hold his immense grief back, Dipper let it flow heavier and harder than ever before, hating just how unfair it all was. He had sat on the shoreline, hoping that it would be enough to bring Lapis back to his side. He had researched every avenue and path he could have took, trying to find something that would be enough to free her. He had made a deal that had cost him his very own body and then some, believing that it would finally give him enough to go off of to help. He had pushed past his pain and learned how to fight, thinking that it would be enough to give him a fighting chance against breaking down the prison she had made for herself. And he had confronted her, aiming to reach her in the chance that it would be enough to split them up once and for all. He had done so much, had struggled for so long and had grieved so profoundly all for one singular, solitary purpose: to save her, to restore their broken friendship, to finally give them both the happily ever after they deserved.

And in the end, none of it had ever been enough.

Dipper was all but lost to his sorrow entirely when a sudden stubby hand found its place on his shoulder. Through his tears, he glanced up to find the Watermelon Steven, its tiny eyes growing wet as well as they made direct contact with his. The melon made no attempt to say anything this time, instead gently pointing at Dipper’s chest, or rather, his heart before doing the same towards its own. It then motioned out towards the lake, or more specifically, at Malachite, before forming its hands into a small, but meaningful heart in the hopes that it could communicate more than words ever could.

At first, Dipper didn’t exactly follow what the melon was trying to say, his face still wet with tears as he glanced back and forth between it and Malachite. However, the more he thought about it, the more the message started to become crystal clear. Perhaps waiting, researching, deals, fighting, and everything else in between had never been enough to bring Lapis back. But for the briefest of seconds, he almost had, he had nearly beckoned her back to the surface before Jasper hatefully shoved her back down again. And, the longer he stared at the heart symbol the Watermelon Steven was still making, the more he understood exactly how he had been able to do so in the first place. It wasn’t through anything he had done; instead, it was through everything he felt. His actions both in the past and in the present had nothing to do with any of this; instead, it had been his love, the deep, warm feelings of genuine friendship and dedication that had finally been enough to call her forward. And with brimming hope, he had a hunch that it was those feelings that could finally, finally be enough to bring her back again, this time for good.

“I-I think I get it now…” Dipper smiled softly, wiping his tears away as he looked back to the Watermelon Steven. “And it’s all thanks to you. You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d actually think you were actually the real…” He trailed off, his eyes growing wide with shocked realization as the melon grinned widely and nodded in confirmation to his musings. “Wait… no way… Steven?! I-is that… are you really…?”

Steven nodded once more, incredibly relieved that Dipper had finally seen through his temporary melony form. Of course, despite the bizarre revelation, Dipper himself couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh over it, almost tearing up all over again as he wrapped Steven in a tight, grateful hug. “Just for the record, this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” he chuckled warmly as the young Gem readily returned his embrace. “And I love it.”

“Dipper!” Stan called as he emerged from the forest, rushing over to the pair with genuine concern. “Geez, kid you nearly gave me a heart attack for the tenth time today. Any more and I’m gonna have to start charging ya for my potential hospital bills. Also, what the heck is going on over there?”

The conman pointed to the other side of the shore, where all of the other Watermelon Stevens were finally converging to launch their united attack. They kicked their assault into motion with the blow of one of the village’s ceremonial horn, which was more than enough to divert Malachite’s attention towards the shoreline.

“Huh?” The very instant the twisted fusion turned the melony army was upon her. The watermelons rushed for her, braving the obvious danger to make their move and pounce upon her with their various weapons. Those who remained on the shore fired off arrows from their simple bows towards Malachite, while others used their hastily-made catapults to launch stones at her from a distance. As varied as their methods of attack were, the melons were all unanimously united in their resolve to rescue their island from her ongoing rampage, no matter what it cost.

“Whoa… who knew those guys could put up such a fight?” Dipper remarked, genuinely impressed by their verve. Steven raised his hand, though as he did, he was suddenly struck with yet another idea, one that he didn’t have to make too much of an effort to relay to Dipper as he tugged on his hand urgently right more. “Right,” he nodded confidently. “Looks like this isn’t over just yet.”

With a solidifying high five, Dipper and Steven parted ways, both of the intent on doing what they knew needed to be done. Stan, however, was rather confused, left out of the loop as he followed after his nephew. “Whoa, kid, what exactly are you planning on doing here?” the conman asked warily. “I watched your sword fall into the lake along with you; don’t tell me you plan on going up against that kooky broad without it, are ya?”

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper assured with an upbeat smile as he made a beeline for the island’s highest cliff once more. “I have a feeling I won’t need it. I’ve found a better weapon to use against her this time.”

“What, like a gun or something?” Stan asked, still not following whatsoever.

At the same time, despite the best efforts the Watermelon Stevens were putting forth to take her down, Malachite was hardly phased by them. In fact, if anything, she was downright amused that creatures as small and insignificant as these would dare to stand against her. However, amidst her uproarious laughter of this seemingly measly rebellion, she failed to notice the trap the watermelons had already set for her until she stumbled right into it, tripping over the rope they had stretched out and falling into the shallows as a result. The melon army acted quickly to try to keep the twisted fusion pinned down, but in her surprise and fury, she was quick to retaliate.

“What is this?” Malachite roared, easily pushing past and snapping the ropes restraining her. “You think you can hold me down?!” The moment the twisted fusion picked herself back upright, she lashed out, sending several Watermelon Steven’s flying in the wake of her broad swing. “Nobody can! Not anymore!”

“Hey!” Once again, Malachite was caught off guard by a familiar call, one that enraged her even more than the watermelons’ resistance as she turned towards the cliff to find Dipper standing firm, seemingly ready to oppose her once more.

“Augh! I thought I told you to give it a rest already!” Malachite snapped, pulling up a heavy mass of ice which she quickly maneuvered to hover directly over Dipper’s head. “Lapis is GONE and she’s NEVER coming back!”

“I-I don’t want to talk to Lapis!” Dipper countered, forcing himself to be as steady as possible. “I want… I want to talk to you. To Malachite.”

The twisted fusion seemed entirely taken aback by this, her eyes suddenly wide as she leaned in a bit. “W-wha—with… what?” she asked, her anger seeming to subside somewhat into genuine confusion.

“I… I want you to know that… that I think I know what it feels like, t-to be you…” he began earnestly. “A-after all, I was once part of an unstable fusion too…” His expression saddened as he glanced over at the shore, or more specifically at Steven, remembering all too well just how lost and confused and distraught he had felt when they had first formed Stepper. And while Stepper himself had never once been anywhere close to the levels of dysfunctional Malachite was on and had indeed found peace and harmony by the end of it all, the experiences were at least somewhat comparable on some level.

“N-no you don’t!” Malachite shot back defensively. “How could you possibly understand how awful it is to be me?! How much both of them hate to be together as me?! You can’t even begin to understand what that feels like!”

“…Maybe I can’t…” Dipper admitted solemnly. “But… that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try. Which is why I can’t help but wonder… what do you even want out of all this? Not Lapis, or Jasper, but you, Malachite. What do you want?”

Clearly, Malachite had no idea how to respond to such a question as she leaned down even closer to the human who was bold enough to ask her such a baffling question, who was brazen to refer to her as if she was something more than the sum of her conflicting parts. It was only as her face drew in to sit just a few feet away from his that tears, of all things, started to well up in more than just one of her four eyes, her expression awash in wonder and pain as she offered up her soft-spoken answer. “I-I… I want… I don’t want to exist anymore…”

Admittedly, this wasn’t really the reply Dipper had been expecting, but it was one that filled him with a rush of heavy empathy all the same, especially when he noticed just how torn the twisted fusion seemed to be. Perhaps a testament to how torn she had been from the very moment she had first been formed. “T-then you don’t have to,” he said just as quietly, working up the courage to step forward. His hand was trembling as he reached out towards the twisted fusion, but surprisingly enough, she allowed him to place it against her head, before resting his forehead against hers in a comforting gesture, perhaps the first and only she had ever really known. “You can stop now. You can end this. Please…. Malachite.”

The twisted fusion let out a small, shuddering sob at this, light slowly starting to overtake her form as it wavered ever so slightly. Dipper himself was unable to hold back a few sparse tears as he maintained contact with her all the while. For a solid moment or two, it really did seem as though Malachite had every intention of splitting apart on her own terms, as incredibly as it might have seemed. And yet, it was still far too good to be true, for as much as Malachite herself wanted to unfuse, one certain, vengeful half of her refused to let her immense, devastating power go so easily.

“NO! STOP IT!” Malachite suddenly screamed, not wasting any time in snatching Dipper up and gripping him threateningly in her massive hand. “Quit it with these stupid mind games already! NOTHING you say or do will ever tear me apart!” The twisted fusion’s wrath quickly turned into a malicious, treacherous grin as she clenched the fist she was holding Dipper in even tighter, eliciting a cry of distressed pain out of him. “In fact, just to keep you from getting anymore bright ideas, I think I’ll finally put you out of your misery just like I should have done from the very beginning!”

Malachite cackled hatefully, ready to do just that as she reveled in the clear anguish and fear she was causing her defenseless victim. Back on the island, both Stan and Steven respectively gasped in horror as they watched helplessly while the twisted fusion began to slowly crush the life out of Dipper, with neither of them in any sort of position to stop her. However, even if they weren’t, that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else who was.

Malachite gasped, her murderous attempts halted as a heavy purple flail suddenly sideswiped her, its coil wrapping around her before Sugilite’s weapon struck her hard in the face. It took her a second to recover from the blow, only to glance over her shoulder to find Alexandrite, standing strong and ready to throw every part of herself back into this decisive fray. “Don’t forget about me!” the fusion proclaimed, swiftly yanking Malachite in towards her. All the while, she kept her tight hold on Dipper, something that he was admittedly grateful for as the twisted fusion was reeled in towards the deeper half of the lake.

The moment Malachite was within range, Alexandrite didn’t hesitate to pay her back for all of her brutal blows by delivering one of her own, striking the twisted fusion clear across the face and making sure to steer clear of hitting Dipper all the while. Alexandrite kept her momentum up, calling upon Sardonyx’s massive war hammer to swing low and precisely, easily launching Malachite high up into the air. Of course, Dipper initially panicked as he was tossed up along with her, but Alexandrite made sure to offer him some silent assurance with a confident grin as she summoned Opal’s longbow. While Malachite beckoned a pair of large water wings to keep her afloat in the skies, Alexandrite took aim, her arrow of light pointed straight for the twisted fusion high above her.

“You two should spend some time apart,” she admonished as she quickly let her arrow fly. The projectile soared through the air, shimmering as it split apart into the silhouettes of each of the Crystal Gems before they joined together in luminous harmony. And as soon as they did, the arrow struck its target true, piercing Malachite cleanly through where her heart would have been if she’d had one. Unable to keep herself together when met with such a fatal blow and the conflict still going in deep inside her, the twisted fusion’s form illuminated brilliantly until she finally, finally, after weeks of waging an endless war against herself and the world around her, fell apart.

Caught in the midst of this grand explosion of radiant light was Dipper, who instantly allowed himself a deep breath of much-needed air the moment Malachite’s grip on him at last released. However, he didn’t have much time to be relieved as gravity took its hold in his stead, instantly starting to pull him down towards the surface of the lake far below. Even so, despite his instant panic at this, he happened to glance over to notice another figure in a freefall alongside him. A spark of brief bitterness filled him as he looked to Jasper, apparently unconscious but seemingly unharmed from the whole endeavor. However, that bitterness was quickly replaced with immense, overwhelming joy as he spun around midair to find the other Gem falling not too far away from him.

“L-Lapis!” Dipper shouted over the racing winds, unable to hold back a delighted smile over finally seeing the blue Gem herself after all this time. Of course, much like Jasper, Lapis had been completely drained thanks to their lengthy stint as Malachite, which explained why she was every bit as out of it as the orange Gem herself was. Even so, Dipper did his best to swim over to her midair, his elated tears falling upwards as he made as much of an attempt to reach her as he possibly could. However, he didn’t quite get the chance as he suddenly landed into the palm of a large hand that had already been waiting to catch him. Surprised but ultimately relieved, he briefly glanced back at Alexandrite, only to notice that she had done the same for both Lapis and Jasper before she silently began to make her way back to the island.

The shore itself was awash in celebration, the Watermelon Stevens all happily celebrating Malachite’s defeat with a round of uproarious cheers. The only ones who didn’t join in were Stan and Steven, both of them far too concerned with Dipper’s unknown wellbeing to even try. However, their worries were soon put to rest as Alexandrite lowered her hands, allowing Lapis and Jasper’s unconscious forms to slip out of her hands and giving Dipper a chance to hop of off her other one just before she gracefully unfused herself. Before much of anything else could happen, Steven was already upon Dipper, practically drowning him with a relieved hug as he babbled happily, yet still incoherently.

“Heh, yeah, I… still have no idea what you’re saying,” Dipper chuckled as he began to wipe his tears dry once more. “You’ll have to translate everything for me when we get back to the barn, ok?”

Steven nodded enthusiastically at this, however, the warm reunion was quickly short lived as both Stan and the Gems soon stepped in, the latter of which seemed none-too-happy with Dipper’s actions of the entire battle. “S-so… uh… I guess… all’s well that ends well?” Dipper ventured all the same, hoping that his brashness hadn’t cost him too much of the Gems’ good graces.

“Dipper, I think it goes without saying that what you just did was ridiculously dangerous,” Pearl scolded, hands on her hips. “You went against just about everything I taught you as your sword fighting instructor.”

“I… I know…” Dipper admitted somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah, dude, you could’ve been like… squashed or drowned or something!” Amethyst added just as incredulously. “In fact… are you sure you weren’t? It looks like Malachite messed you up, man.” The purple Gem frowned as she glanced over the various still prominent cuts and bruises all over his body.

“And you Stan, you should at least made more of an effort to stop him from jumping into such a deadly fight!” Pearl huffed, sending the conman an annoyed glower. “After all, he is your responsibility for the summer, isn’t he?”

“Hey, don’t pin all this on me,” Stan remarked defensively. “Once this kid sets his mind to something, there’s pretty much no stopping him. Kinda reminds me of… well, me, to be honest.” Despite all of the admonishing going around, the conman went against the grain, offering his nephew a genuinely proud grin as he ruffled his hair somewhat. And, surprisingly enough, this pride was something Garnet also seemed to share as she spoke up.

“Stan’s right,” the Gem leader said evenly. “You didn’t give up, Dipper, no matter how many times you were knocked back, you kept looking for a way to rescue Lapis. And in the end, you did the one thing none of us were able to do. You wore the chains of hatred keeping Lapis and Jasper together by using something far more powerful against them: love. And for that, we our victory over Malachite to you. Thank you.”

Dipper finally broke into a smile at this, one that only grew wider as he glanced over towards Lapis’ still form first, before looking to the Watermelon Steven still hovering close to his side. “Well, I can’t say I came up with the idea entirely on my own.”

When met with the sight of his guardians safe and sound, Steven was unable to hold himself back from rushing forward, clinging tightly onto Pearl’s leg in a relieved embrace. “Steven…?” the white Gem wondered in amazement. “Is that you in there?”

“W-wha—how did… how did you know that was him?” Dipper asked, dumbfounded as Steven cheerfully nodded.

“Oh come now, Dipper,” Pearl chuckled as she finally grinned, gently patting Steven’s head all the while. “I’d be able to recognize Steven anywhere. Same goes for all of you kids, really.”

“Thank you too, Steven,” Garnet smiled, briefly kneeling down to the melon’s level. “We couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Yeah, good job, melon head,” Amethyst teased, patting the young Gem on the back.

“Oh, what, you all don’t actually think that watermelon is really Steven, do you?” Stan asked, absolutely bewildered by the concept. “What, did everyone get knocked around too many times in the head by that green chick?”

“Uh, actually, Grunkle Stan, that really is Steven,” Dipper pointed out. “It makes sense if you don’t think about it.”

At this, Garnet looked over the vast assembly of other Watermelon Stevens, who had all gathered in to spectate on the reunion. “Thank you,” she addressed them broadly. “All of you. You are truly brave.”

Excited by this commendation, a round of hearty cheers arose from the entire collection of watermelons, one that elicited a bright laugh from the Gems in response. However, the celebration didn’t get the chance to last too long as a soft tremor began to rock the island, one that quickly turned into a momentous quake. The violent shaking rattled throughout the entire island, downing countless trees in the process and even splitting open the shoreline itself. The Watermelon Stevens clung onto each other to avoid being sucked into the fissure, and while struggling to maintain their own footing against the rift, Dipper and Amethyst acted quickly to pull Lapis’ unconscious body away from it. Jasper, on the other hand, was not so lucky, as Pearl barely missed her hand just before she slipped away into the unknown depths of the earth below.

The initial earthquake soon calmed down a bit but it didn’t stop, resulting in a continuous shaking that left the entire group anxious as to when the next quake would emerge. “W-what the heck was that?!” Stan asked, clinging tightly onto Pearl for support, despite her clear aggravation with his hold on her. “I thought you three already solved the town’s whole earthquake problem by taking care of the Wintergreen Wonder out there!”

“It must be the Cluster,” Garnet said urgently. “Peridot was right, it is set to emerge soon. Steven, its up to you,” the Gem leader turned to the anxious young Gem, stooping down to his level once more as she placed both her hands on his shoulders. “Stan’s boat was destroyed. We won’t make it back in time. Wake up, get Peridot, Ford, and Mabel, and start drilling. The Earth needs you, Steven. We’ll be fine. You can do this, we believe in you.”

Despite the natural burst of fear that came along with being presented such a momentous mission, Steven nodded, determined not to let the Gems, or the Earth for that matter, down. “You got this, dude!” Amethyst encouraged with a bright thumbs up as the young Gem began to close his eyes to drift back into sleep. Or rather, into awakening. “You know the drill.”

“Be careful, Steven,” Pearl warned worriedly. “Watch each other’s backs.”

Stan flinched as Amethyst elbowed him, prompting him to offer up his own words of encouragement. Or at least something of the like. “Uh… y-yeah, kid?” the conman shrugged, unsure of what to say to the nearly-snoozing watermelon. “Knock ‘em dead or whatever. Oy, as if today couldn’t get any weirder…”

“Steven, please,” Dipper began earnestly though apprehensively as he offered the young Gem one final, thankful smile. “Take care of Mabel for me down there. And of yourself. I’ll see you guys soon. We all will this time.”

“And Steven,” Garnet finished, her voice barely audible as Steven finally drifted away into the darkness of dreams altogether. Dreams that would hopefully carry him back to the mission that the group on the shore, the Earth, even life itself as they all knew it depended on. “We-”

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ahomeganeyatsu · 5 years

Text

Ran Off in the Night (Part 11)

The sound of metals clashing was the first thing that Lucas registered when his mind slowly sifted out of the debris of unconsciousness. His head throbbed, the slightest movement inspiring his stomach to puke his guts out right beside him.

What the fuck was he doing lying on the ground? Why did his head hurt? How the hell did he get here? Where was here?

His vision was blurry and everything seemed to be layered with a thick fog. The experience reminded him of that night after Emma's party. Lying on the ground, having no idea how he got here, his body hurting and the world muddled all around him.

An inhumane snarl and a roar of pain interrupted his thoughts. Lucas flinched at the sound, realizing how close it was. Too close in fact. Even if he managed to move from his current position, Lucas wouldn’t even have enough time to get to safety before whatever made that sound caught up to him. He still wasn’t going to just lie here and get himself eaten. Lucas had some dignity. If he was going to be eaten by a goddamn monster, he wasn’t going to make it easy for the fucker.

He pushed himself up—or tried to anyway—and the world blacked out for a second. It was a miracle that Lucas didn’t expel what little of the food he ate. Too early, he thought and his insides roiled before he upchucked what used to be a slice of pizza and the coffee he drank earlier. Shit, he wiped away the gathering tears in his eyes and coughed, I'm never gonna be able to look at a slice of pizza the same way again. Lucas winced at the pain in his throat and spat out the pooling spit in his mouth. He breathed as much as his lungs allowed him to. Fuck, he hoped he didn't bruise them. Lucas didn't need that added to his problems.

Thankfully, the pain in his chest was tolerable. He still felt a little dizzy but the world wasn’t spinning out of its axis anymore. He readied himself to stand and run when something stopped him.

“Don’t move!”

Or someone.

He would have laughed if he could see himself right now. He imagined he looked like one of those meerkats in that documentary he watched (Basile recommended it, although he had no idea why), head whipping around at the sound of that voice. It wasn't a good decision as the sudden movement had the world spinning again. Nausea threatened to have him spilling bile but he appeased it with a few deep breaths. With his stomach calmed, Lucas chanced another look.

Well, color me fucked. Lucas watched captivated. Quell had said shadowhunters fought demons for a living. He had known from the very moment when 24 had his glowing sword leveled to his neck that the guy was dangerous. It was more of an awareness. Like something you've overheard and accepted but never truly understood. And as Lucas witnessed 24 dancing around the demons, slicing at them, and parrying their attacks—it finally sunk into him.

He’s dangerous.

What surprised him though was his reaction to this thought. He was scared, yes, but it didn’t seem to matter. Lucas didn’t think he would stay away. It didn’t feel like he would. In fact, even if it had sunk in just how dangerous 24 was before, Lucas would have still searched for him. Maybe it was because he was used to living on the side of danger? Always toeing that line that separated the deficiency of self-preservation and the absolute absence of one. Or maybe he was really that desperate for answers. The desire born from a relatively answerless world. He didn't know why he had this ability. He didn't understand why his parents split up or why his dad wouldn't give two shits about him or his mom. He didn't get why the fear of being yourself had to be this crippling. Then 24, this shadownhunter bulldozed into his life and for once, he felt like a question could be answered.

So, like last time, he was going to be reckless. Lucas tried his best not to be. He could count the times he slipped in one hand. Memorable instances seeing as they always did blow up on his face.

He wondered how this was going to turn out. The blow-up was inevitable. His attraction towards the shadownhunter excluded. How much damage control was he going to do? Would he even survive to be able to do any? He hoped he would.

Something shifted in the shadows behind the demon hunter. His attention fully taken by the remaining bug-like alligator demon, avoiding the deadly stinger rapidly becoming fiercer and erratic in its attacks. Lucas waited to see if the shadowhunter was aware of the new threat. But each second told the teen he wasn’t.

Lucas discarded the command 24 had shouted to him. With an unexpected surge of strength, Lucas slipped his backpack and hurled it towards the shadowhunter yelling, “DUCK!”

Lucas was glad the shadowhunter didn’t hesitate and ducked before he got clipped by Lucas’ flying backpack. He barely kept the look of grief off his face knowing he'll never be able to use that backpack again. Not because it was shredded to pieces, no. It was more about the smell that would no doubt be clinging to it as he watched it hit the demon right in the mouth. It was a small sacrifice, he thought. Better his backpack than 24's head, even with that disastrous mop of hair.

Like you wouldn’t want to run your fingers through that, a tiny voice whispered, snickering.

He couldn’t even hush that little traitor when the burst of second wind he had felt quickly deflated and he was dropping on his ass, trying to keep the world from going sideways for too long. Whatever distraction Lucas afforded the shadowhunter seemed to have worked because the next thing he knew a pair of leather-gloved hands were cupping his face.

“Putain, Lucas, are you alright? What else hurts?” He blinked staring into storm-grey eyes flicking all over his face. Hands gingerly tried to feel for any possible bumps on his head and Lucas just really couldn’t do anything but keep himself breathing. “Lucas, can you hear me?”

“Uhhhh,” he responded intelligently. Lucas could practically feel the worry coming off the guy in waves. He wanted to reassure him he was fine, but his head still throbbed and he figured 24 could tell he would be lying to him anyway. Lucas was running out of words. He mused if he might really be concussed as he had begged not to be earlier. The way his heart was beating against his rib cage or the way he can’t seem to breathe around the shadowhunter told him it probably wasn’t the case. Especially when he could feel his neck prickling with heat under those eyes.

He couldn’t last under that attention and Lucas averted his gaze. He tried to look somewhere else. He let out a shocked sound and his hand reached out to a tear on the male’s shirt. “Y-You’re hurt,” Lucas said shakily. With the lack of decent light and the dark material of his clothes, it was easy to hide that he was bleeding.

The shadowhunter looked down to where Lucas’ hand was gently placed. He could feel the warm blood that was beginning to saturate the material there; his fingers were slowly seeping with the color red. Lucas can feel the careful control he held on his breath beginning to slip. His heart racing into an erratic pace that had nothing to do with their proximity. His body trembling not because of the freezing air. “Oh, I didn’t notice,” 24 said and he shifted slightly, hissing as it aggravated the wound. “Fuck. Okay, not a simple scratch then.”

Lucas lifted his head to give the guy an incredulous look. “You’re bleeding, like a lot. How can you think that’s just a scratch?” his voice was rising with a panicky edge. Lucas had never had any problems with the sight of blood. Except, seeing this amount was making him nervous. There was something lurking just beneath the surface of his unconscious, something he could pluck out and examine and things would begin to make sense. It didn’t seem important at the moment. Not when he had someone bleeding right in front of him.

“Used to injuries. And we’re built—“ he winced, his hold—now on Lucas’ shoulders—tightened as he gritted his teeth and steadied his breathing, “—differently than mundanes.” He looked paler and he was shaking now. “Nothing an iratze can’t heal.”

“Drop the tough guy act,” Lucas muttered and gently pushed the shadowhunter to sit. He knew it was bad when the guy easily tipped over. “How can I help?” Compared to him, Lucas was fine. His head still hurt but it was something he can ignore for now.

24 opened his mouth but Lucas glared at him, the male quailing under that look. “Don’t even think of saying you’re fine. Now tell me what the fuck I need to do.”

He sighed. “Can you check my pockets for my stele?” Lucas had no idea what a stele was but looking through pockets should be easy enough to find it.

“Okay, now put some pressure on that,” he ordered him and 24 followed obediently. Lucas’ hand sifted through the male’s pockets. He couldn’t help but feel awkward about this. This was the second time he had been this close to 24. Two situations so vastly different but still managed to produce similar emotions. Lucas guessed that if the shadowhunter hadn’t been injured or if he hadn’t been battling demons earlier, Lucas would probably have had a heart attack with how fast his heart would be beating.

He imagined meeting him in the Sans Jour as he had hoped earlier. Lucas would be leaning over the railing, scanning the crowd below and he would find him, right there in the middle. 24, feeling his eyes on him, would then look up and their eyes would meet. He'd sport that little knowing smirk that sparked something inside of Lucas. His head will tip to the side, a little challenge, a little demand, for him to come down. Lucas would raise his brow and push away from the railing and make his way downstairs, taking his time even when all he wanted was to dash to where 24 was waiting for him, afraid that he would lose him again. Then like the sneaky fucker he was, 24 would snag him from the side before Lucas could walk to the dance floor where he supposedly was, scaring the living shit out of Lucas.

But things turned out differently.

24 didn't show up at the club. Lucas got chased by a fucking demon and nearly mauled to death. Then, even if Lucas had no idea how, 24 managed to save him and got himself injured in the process. The guy had said not to look for him, but Lucas, stubborn and impulsive as he was, did the exact opposite. And here they were.

There’s that undercurrent of thrill and nervousness from being this close to 24, but it was overpowered by the guilt and worry thrumming in his bones that this possibly wouldn’t have happened if he had listened to the guy in the first place.

Lucas’ hand wrapped around something hard with uneven smooth spots and pulled it out. It was a stone, he couldn’t tell what color it was with the lack of light. Really, where was a light when you needed it? He startled and nearly dropped the item when it began to glow this pure white light. “This doesn’t happen to be that stele thing you were saying, right?” He looked up to the shadowhunter’s eyes but the guy wasn’t looking at him. Instead, 24’s eyes were transfixed on the glowing stone Lucas was holding. “Is this the first time this thing glowed?” Lucas asked, eyeing the stone with uncertainty.

24 shook his head, still looking at it. He lifted his eyes to stare into Lucas’. An unreadable expression flitted in his eyes but it was too quick for Lucas to even pick apart. “It isn’t. And that isn’t the stele. Try my other pocket. ”

A question was at the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it and checked the other pocket. His fingers bumped against something and he quickly wrapped them around the item and pulled it out. It's a wand or something close to it anyway. It was smooth, save for the symbols decorating it. It was silver-white and translucent, smooth to the touch like a mirror.

“Okay, that’s the one,” the shadowhunter said. He tugged at his shirt and lifted it exposing more of his skin. Lucas stared at the newly bared skin, swallowing the dryness in his throat. Black tattoo-like marks decorated the pale expanse and he could see scars from various injuries. “I need you to trace this mark,” he said, hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding the stele and leading it to a particular mark that rested just above his right hip.

Lucas leaned forward to take a better look. The mark reminded him a bit of the G clef or a funky looking h with a number six wrapped around it. He began to trace this iratze thing and he nearly gagged when it dawned on him that he was burning him.

Lucas dropped the stele as if he was the one that had been burnt. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he screamed. “I can’t— You’re making me burn you!”

“Lucas, relax. It’s fine.” He reassured him but Lucas wasn’t having any of it.

“Fine?! How can this be fine when I’m carving you like a melon! We’ve only met two times, I don’t even know your name! You’re asking too much.” It didn’t even matter that he had been the one to offer his help. That he had been determined to do so. He just didn’t expect that he had to trace the fucking mark by burning it. “I can’t— how can you even—”

“LUCAS!” Lucas’ panicked rambling was cut off when a hand cupped his face. “Lucas, I need you to breathe.” He hadn’t even picked up on the fact that he was beginning to hyperventilate. “And I need you to listen very carefully.”

The teen took a shuddering breath as storm-grey eyes held his gaze. “If you don’t trace the iratze on my hip, I am going to bleed out. There may also be demon poison in my veins. It’s not that potent, but I need the iratze to heal as much as it can. I know you’re not okay with this. But I need it. Will you please trace it?”

Lucas gulped and his hands clenched tightly. He could read the I’ll die right under those words. And Lucas really did rather want him not to die. “O-Okay,” he choked the word out and blinked through the tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Okay." He picked up the stele again and leaned forward to try tracing the iratze a second time.

“Eliott,” he heard him say softly as he made the first stroke.

“What?” Lucas looked up and met those eyes again.

“Moi c’est Eliott.” It was weird how he said it. Like he was offering it just to Lucas, and only Lucas. There was a niggling thought that told the boy he wasn’t just being offered Eliott’s name. That in reality, the other male was giving him more than that.

Lucas only nodded. He really couldn’t formulate a response to that. Didn’t know how to. He just returned to tracing the iratze mark.

He did it as quickly as he could. He wasn’t the greatest artist, but he managed to trace the faded lines—scars his mind grits out—and he watched as it glowed. He glanced at Eliott to check if it was working. He held his breath and slowly the vice grip around his heart eased as Eliott's face relaxed. The wound took its time to heal, but it closed until all that was left was a pink gash. It was amazing really and Lucas can’t quite believe that had just happened.

“One more favor,” Eliott said after some time. He still looked a little worse for wear but definitely better than earlier. “Can you write a message for me?” Lucas didn’t understand why but thought he might as well. It wasn’t the strangest request he received, considering he just burnt a mark on the guy. He sifted through his pockets coming up with a crumpled receipt and the card from Quell. Fuck, she’s going to wring my neck when she finds out. He quickly pocketed the card. He’ll deal with that later; for now, he faced Eliott.

“I… I don’t—“ Eliott produced a pen out of nowhere and handed it to Lucas with a smile, “—have a pen. Whatever.” His wrote the short message Eliott relayed to him. Lucas couldn’t help how his brows rose when the shadowhunter told him to write the name of the addressee.

“What now?” he asked after he finished writing the last word.

Eliott took the piece of paper and his stele from Lucas. He traced something at the very bottom and Lucas watched transfixed as Eliott let go of the paper and it floated as it burnt, the sparks resembling fireflies meeting the sky.

Eliott pushed himself up from the ground and promptly offered his hand to Lucas. The teen accepted, his blue eyes lingering on their hands coated in Eliott's blood. His hand squeezed Lucas’ and storm-grey eyes inquire gently if he was alright. Lucas could have just nodded, said ouais like usual, but his own hand squeezed back.

It seemed to be the correct response because Eliott gave him a bright smile. And Lucas just stared, feeling a swoop in his stomach. He didn’t know how Eliott could convey that much brightness when he looked exhausted. He didn’t want to feel it, but the heart was an involuntary muscle; if it wanted to flutter like that, it was going to do what it damn well pleased.

Eliott still hasn’t let go of his hand. He knew he had to get him to release his hand, but his voice won’t work nor was his hand inclined to leave where it currently was. He let the guy lead him. Lucas watched him duck a bit and grab something, before lifting it towards the blue-eyed teen.

“Sorry, about your backpack,” Eliott said sheepishly.

“I’m going to have to burn it, aren’t I?” Lucas grimaced, taking hold of a strap that wasn’t coated in demon saliva. The smell was enough to make him want to puke his guts out, but he refrained. He wasn’t incredibly fond of the idea of him throwing up in front of Eliott.

"We can ask Warlock Quell if she could do something about it." Lucas snorted and Eliott shot him a curious look.

“She’s not going to be pleased to see us,” he muttered under his breath. Especially when she finds out I didn’t follow her instructions.

Lucas waited for Eliott to ask the question he could see swimming in those eyes. He didn’t and Lucas wasn’t going to push him.

“Come on, her shop isn’t too far from here if we take a shortcut.”

“Shortcut? What sh—” he yelped as he was pulled and lifted, his arms immediately going around Eliott’s neck. He pressed his face into the shadowhunter’s chest at the rush of wind when the taller male bounded up the sides of the building.

Lucas would forever deny it, but several posts that night across several social media platforms recounted the strange sound of a young male voice screaming “PUTAIN!” over the rooftops of Paris.

#hah #look what i have #i know took awhile #but here it is #elu fic #elu shadowhunter au #elu chaptered fic #elu

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