#when they camp for a whole fucking night when they reach the nest instead of idk going right away to see if the kid is ok? 😭

[yamineftis]

One thing that is really breaking my heart in this season is how stupid and incompetent they’ve made all the mandalorians, like, are we supposed to root for these guys? Who live in Jurassic Park and claim their children are the most important thing to them, but just stay put and watch them get snatched by giant birds instead of idk, trying to hunt them? Couldn’t they like, have asked Din when he returned the first time this season to help them track the birds with his ship cuz apparently they took the space bus to this planet?

Couldn’t they like, be portrayed as the most fearsome warriors in the galaxy who are in the verge of extinction cuz they’re so dangerous the empire/renmants sends hoards of soldiers to kill them whenever they learn of a new covert? How did these fumbling fools manage to survive this long? lmao why

[plant-gt-thought-box]

The Fox In The Snow

Heeeeeey @cyncerity ! I was your secret santa gifter! I really hope you enjoy this gift and sorry that it's late! Also plz look at discord DMs before reading this for funny!

TW- safe vore, soft vore, and thats it! I hope you enjoy!

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Tubbo followed close behind his partner as the snow crunched underneath his boots and his partner's parents followed close behind them carrying various amounts of camping gear. Tubbo had been invited by Ranboo to go on a camping trip with his family during winter. He had never heard of going camping during winter but this wasn't really a normal camping trip.

See, Tubbo was going on a camping trip with a cryptozoologist, two actual cryptids, and Sapnap. Tubbo wasn't completely sure on what was going to happen during this camping trip as he wasn't sure what cryptid they were looking for but he was still quite excited to help out his partner. This was going to be the absolute best winter camping trip ever.

The small group of five finally reached their camping grounds and Tubbo was a bit relieved when he found out they were going to be staying in a cave instead of out in a field among the snow. The brunette helped Ranboo set up the tent they were going to be staying in for the next few days and then agreed to go out with Karl to gather up some wood they could use for a fire.

"So Tubbo, are you excited to help us look for Wren Veilers? Ranboo mentioned you were excited to find one." Karl asked as he walked over to the team holding some old dried wood they had found, the brunette smiled as he collected more sticks for firewood.

"Fuck yeah I am! You said their combination between owls and foxes, that sounds so fucking cute!" Tubbo excitedly explained as he walked alongside Karl heading back towards the cave they were staying in. "Do you think we'll be able to find a whole group of them?"

Karl chuckled at the enthusiasm and patted Tubbo on the head. "Well, we should consider ourselves lucky if we see one of them. Wren veilers are very tricky creatures and they're considered very new among cryptozoologists."

Tubbo nodded his head in understanding as they walked into the cave where Ranboo and Sapnap we're setting up a small fire pit. The brunette dumped his firewood down next to the two and sat with Ranboo, starting to help him work on the fire pit. Karl set the wood he had down next to the three and then walked over to Quackity.

"Why aren't you inside the tent Q? Isn't it a bit too cold out here?" Karl asked as he took Quackity's hand and let him back into the large tent the three were staying in. He sat down in the pile of blankets Quackity had already made into a nest. "Were you making sure Sapnap was safe?"

The avian nodded his head as he softly chirped at Karl. "I saw someone flying around where we were… I got a little paranoid."

"You did? Could you make out what it was?" Karl asked, frowning when Big Q shook his head and leaned into Karl.

"Nope. After I sleep tonight I'm going to go looking for them though. I don't want to trespass on anyone's territory," Quackity explained as he slowly started to fall asleep. Karl rubbed Big Q's back and snuggled up next to him.

"I hope it was just a really big bird…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo was wide awake that night. He hadn't expected the winter forest to be so loud considering the large population of animals were hibernating, but despite all of that the place was still extremely loud. The brunette regretted not bringing along the earbuds his sister had bought him.

The brunette decided if he couldn't sleep, he might as well read the book he had brought along in the hopes that it might help him sleep. As Tubbo finished reading his second page, he swore he heard something lightly scratching on the outside of the tent.

It reminded him of whenever Enderchest was trying to break into Ranboo's room. The cat would constantly scratch at the door until it was opened for her (even if it wasn't locked and she could easily push it open). He looked over at Ranboo and noticed that his partner was still peacefully sleeping. So, Tubbo slowly got up and crept towards the opening of their tent.

Tubbo grabbed the nearby walkie-talkie Sapnap had given the boys to call for help if anything happened at night, and (instead of using it for its intended purpose,) got ready to throw it at whatever animal was scratching at the tent door. The brunette could tell it was a small one so scaring it away would be easy! Hopefully.

Tubbo slowly unzipped the sealed up tent and gasped at what he saw. Sitting right in front of the tent was a small human with long fox ears and two snow owl wings on their back. The creature's eyes were a pure light blue that just stared right into Tubbo, making it hard to tell if they were acknowledging the humans existence or staring off into the distance.

Then the small creature held out its hands to the boy as if it was demanding something. Tubbo blinked a few times until he suddenly realized- "Oh you want some food, don't you little guy?"

Tubbo went back into his tent and grabbed the small bag of jerky he and Ranboo had been snacking from earlier. He pulled out one of the larger pieces and carefully set it on the ground outside of the tent. He watched closely as the Wren Veilers (that has to be what that creature is right?) hesitantly walked forward and took the large piece of jerky.

The lil blonde/white haired creature scurried off, disappearing outside of the cave. Tubbo sealed the tent back up and just sat there for a moment with a stupid grin on his face.

It was then that the brunette realized he'd forgotten to take any pictures or even attempt to catch the lil wren veilers…

Tubbo quietly started putting his boots and shoes on. The creature was small, there was no way it was fast enough to already be far from the camp, especially if it was carrying food! Tubbo would find the little guy, take a picture and then come back. Ranboo and his parents probably wouldn't even notice! 

The brunette grabbed a large flashlight that had been left in their tent and quietly made his way out, making sure to zip the tent shut behind him. He walked over to the exit of the cave and quickly noticed the small creatures' footprints in the snow. He was going to get evidence of these creatures existing for Ranboo's family.

Tubbo turned on the large flashlight he had and started following the small footprints in the snow, going deeper and deeper into the forest. He shivered as the outside got colder and colder and he started regretting not changing into some proper pants before leaving the tent. Pajama pants really weren't that warm.

As Tubbo wandered deeper and deeper into the woods, he swore he saw something big and white moving among the trees.He chose to ignore it for now since it didn't seem to be a big threat to him right this minute.

"Where did that wren veiler go..?" Tubbo closely followed the footprints in front of him and began walking a bit faster as snow started to fall down. If he didn't find a little guy soon he might lose his path back to the cave as well!

Then, as Tubbo was slowly starting to give up and considering just going back to the cave, he spotted something small running through the bushes with the familiar blonde hair the little wren veiler had. The brunette smiled and ran off following the small creature. He got the camera in his hand ready remembering just how fast the little guy was.

Tubbo ran after the small cryptid. The snow continued pouring down and completely covered up both of their tracks. The small wren veiler ran into a nearby cave and Tubbo ran in after the little guy, absolutely determined to get a picture of him. 

Out of pure frustration and the small opportunity the brunette had been given, he jumped forward and tackled the small wren veiler. He held the small creature close to his chest, surprised they didn't struggle.

"Well you're not that feisty of a little guy are you?" Tubbo pulled the camera out of his pajama pocket and quickly took a picture of him and the wren veiler. The brunette smiled, very proud of his work, but flinched as he felt a puff of hot air ruffle the top of his head. Very hesitantly, the brunette looked up in absolute horror at what looked like a giant polar bear. It was much bigger than normal bears and stared right down at Tubbo, its crimson like eyes studying him closely.

Tubbo slowly got to his feet and backed away from the beast, holding the wren veilers very close to his chest. He trembled as the bear walked towards him on all fours and opened its large mouth full of razor sharp teeth. 

Tubbo let out a terrified scream as the bear jumped forward and grabbed him in its mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ranboo frantically ran through the woods, desperately trying to find any traces of Tubbo as he and his fathers scoured the entire forest. Once they had all realized the brunette was missing from his and Ranboo's tent and was nowhere to be found near their camping site, they assumed the worst and instantly went looking for him. Quackity had taken to the sky and flew overhead, calling out for the boy and helping his family avoid any dangerous areas of the forest.

Ranboo had shifted into his true enderman form and was desperately calling out for Tubbo. He practically ripped the old tree trunks some critters used as their home out of the ground as he desperately searched for his human companion. This weather wasn't safe for humans to be out all alone! Ranboo's instincts were running wild, screaming at him to find Tubbo and-

Well Ranboo wasn't going to do the second part but he was definitely going to find Tubbo.

As the four continued their search for the brunette, Karl noticed Quackity suddenly landed in a nearby clearing. He and the other two quickly ran off in that direction but came to a halt when they saw a tall avian with long black wings speaking with Big Q. Karl took Ranboo's hand and did his best to keep his son calm and hopefully stop him from running up to the avian. Endermen were a bit unpredictable when agitated.

The avian with long black wings started walking down a small hidden path and Quackity gestured for the others to follow him. The group hesitantly followed the black winged avian down the narrow path and into a large cave. Sapnap tightened his grip on the ax he was holding as he noticed a large figure up ahead.

Quackity lightly squawked at the large entity and everyone watched in slight horror as a giant werebear slowly sat upright. It looked down at everyone, and Ranboo very quickly noticed their stomach bulged lightly and a slight movement came from inside of it.

"Your young one is in there. My son saw him wandering around outside in the cold and brought him here for safety," the black winged avian explained as he unfurled his wings and made himself more seeable. He started speaking with the werebear who slowly started to lay down again. He put himself upright once he noticed Ranboo in his full ender form.

"He's… safe in there right?" Sapnap asked. He looked the giant werebear up and down, primarily trying to avoid looking at the beast’s stomach. He didn’t want to see how desperately the kid was squirming in there.

The black winged avian squinted his eyes at Sapnap, obviously finding this question extremely stupid. Sapnap tried not to take offense from that but really found it annoying that crypts didn't realize humans had only one stomach.

"Yes. If he wasn’t safe in there, he wouldn't be in there. Do you want him back?" The avian asked, ruffling their wings a bit as they looked over at Ranboo.

"Yes, obviously we want him back! Why is that even a question!?" Ranboo growled out, flinching back as the werebear glared at him. "Please give him back…"

The werebear begrudgingly stood up and walked a bit closer to the group. The small bump in his stomach began to move upwards towards his mouth, but the werebear stopped and the bump reappeared in his stomach. Ranboo started to growl as the beast started to speak.

"It's cold out here. It's safer to let him out once we're back at your shelter." The werebear's voice was deep and stern as he spoke and he began to walk past the four. He sniffed the air and seemed to be following their footsteps back to their camp.

"You four heard him! Let's get the kid back to your camp and then we can part ways," the avian explained, following close behind their friend. Ranboo quietly growled to himself, still very much wanting Tubbo to just be released from the creature's stomach. Sadly he knew they were right. Karl held his son's hand as it was best to keep the boy calm as they quickly returned to their camping site.

"So while we’re all stuck together, can we do some introductions?" Sapnap asked, finding the awkward silence as they walked back unnerving.

"I am Philza and the bear is Techno," 'Philza' answered quickly as he looked over at Quackity.

"I am Quackity and these are my partners, Karl and Sapnap. The young enderman is our son, Ranboo. The kid in Techno's storage is Tubbo," Big Q also quickly explained, glaring a bit at the other avian.

Philza simply nodded his head as they all walked into the cave they were using as a campground. Sapnap quickly left the group, running into the largest tent to grab towels for Tubbo. Techno simply stood in the middle of the cave and began to bring Tubbo back up. Ranboo watched the entire process extremely closely wanting to make sure the beast didn't accidentally hurt his Tubbo. He fought back the urge to run over and scoop up his friend as he was dropped onto the cold cave floor.

The small brunette slowly sat upright, coughing and desperately trying to wipe some slime off his face. He suddenly held out a small creature he had been cradling to his chest. It was a young looking wren veilers!

"You ass! I shared beef jerky with you and you got me eaten by a bear!? You ungrateful little shit!" Tubbo yelled very gently, shaking the small creature. It just yawned and seemed to be trying to go back to sleep.

"Um, Tubbo-" Ranboo began but was quickly cut off by Tubbo.

"Hey! No! You are not going back to sleep! You slept the entire night in that stomach! You are not sleeping anymore!" Tubbo started pinching a small blonde wren veilers cheeks. The sleepy wren veilers screamed at Tubbo and Tubbo, in his angry state, yelled back.

Ranboo slowly walked over in his enderman form and lifted the soggy human up into the air. He took the wren veilers away from Tubbo and held the small blonde creature by the scruff of their neck. He watched as they puffed out their wings and started scratching at the air in front of them.

Sapnap finally came back and started handing towels to Tubbo so he could try and get some of what was left of the saliva off of him. The brunette happily took the towels and began to dry himself off as he was put back down on the ground. Ranboo, now feeling much calmer and knowing his friend wasn't in danger, slowly began to shrink back down to his human size and actually looked human again.

"Well now that you have your boy back may I have mine?" Philza asked, walking over to Ranboo and holding his arms out. The enderman slowly handed the small squirming blonde over- and jumped as Tubbo suddenly snatched him back.

"Oh hell no! This little shit owes me a bunch of pictures for getting me eaten by a fucking bear!" Tubbo explained as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the simple camera that somehow survived the journey into and out of a werebear’s storage stomach. The raven avian glared a bit at Tubbo but instantly backed down as he saw how livid the human looked.

"Um, then when you are done taking pictures of Tommy, you can bring him to me at the front of the cave. Come, Techno." Philza quickly made his way out of the cave, definitely wanting to get away from Tubbo. Techno followed close behind, chuckling a little as he saw 'Tommy' making a pleading face to be saved.

Tubbo grumbled to himself as he went over to one of the corners of the cave and carefully set Tommy down there. The wren veilers started striking different poses as pictures were taken of him. Tubbo was desperately just trying to get this over with.

"You picked a good one," Sapnap stated as he smiled up at his son. Ranboo simply smiled as he watched Tubbo take even more pictures of the lil wren veilers.

"Yeah… Yeah I did." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been roughly 2 years since Tubbo had gone camping for the first time with his partner’s family and they were slowly making their way up to the cave they now regularly used whenever they stayed in the snowy area where they could find wren veilers. Tubbo was, of course, the first to notice the bushes near them wrestling and slowly reached into his jacket, pulling out a small bag of beef jerky.

And, as usual whenever he did this, a small blonde creature lunged at him and he slowly stepped to the side, letting the little thing fall into a pile of snow. Tommy's legs now stuck out of the ground and viciously kicked at the open sky above them.

"Why do you constantly tease him like that?" Ranboo asked, helping poor Tommy out of the snow and holding him upright. He kept a firm hold on the guy's wings so he didn't lunch at Tubbo again.

"I'm still mad at him for getting me eaten by a werebear," Tubbo explained as he opened the bag of jerky and gave one of the smaller pieces to Tommy, who of course devoured the piece of jerky.

"Tubbo that was over 2 years ago now-"

"And I will never forgive my vore buddy for getting me eaten by a werebear!" Tubbo snapped as he put the jerky away and happily took Tommy into his arms.

"Oh… so you don't want to stay-"

"I still plan on sleeping in your storage tonight. It's way too fucking cold out here to not take advantage of it." Tubbo took Ranboo's hand and started pulling him along as they continued their walk towards the cave.

Ranboo simply smiled down at the two, wrapping his arm around Tubbo's shoulder and holding him close. He quietly listened to his partner arguing with Tommy and still found it quite funny that Tubbo still didn't fully understand why Tommy smelled so bad.

Maybe he should get him a few books on normal animals and stop filling his shelves with cryptozoology books.

[justablobfish]

The smell of Christmas

Day 14 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

______ 

If you pay close attention you can smell the first snow of the year coming, even before it falls. A few days prior the air turns crisp and clean and it feels like you can breathe properly for the first time in forever. 

This year Geralt hadn't paid attention. When it started snowing heavily a full month earlier than usual, he was just as surprised as the farmers who had hired him to take out a nest of neckers on their field. 

As a Witcher he should have noticed though. He should have headed towards Kaer Morhen in time. Instead, he only manages to reach the foot of the Kaedweni Mountains when the path to the Witchers’ keep is already snowed over and unpassable. 

"Fuck," he curses. This shouldn't have happened. Why had he been so distracted?

Now he'll have to find some other place to winter. A nearby inn, maybe. That costs money, though. Money he doesn't have. At least not enough to last him the whole season. 

Good thing they agreed Yennefer would drop Ciri off at Kaer Morhen this year. He'd hate to have the girl stuck here with him all winter, away from their home and family. It's better he's the only one who has to suffer the solitude his mindlessness brought him. 

Then again, his brothers aren't the only family he has anymore. There's no telling where Yennefer intends to cause mischief this year, but Jaskier once told Geralt he'd always be welcome to stay with him at Oxenfurt. It might have just been politeness, but at the very least Geralt could stop by and stay for a day or two while he figures out his next move. 

When he makes it to Oxenfurt, the streets are already covered in snow, despite the far more temperate climate away from the mountains. 

Entering the town is like a punch to the gut. It's everything at once and far too much of that. Weird magical lights blink at him from a myriad of market booths and cause his vision to swim. Everywhere there's people cheering, singing or yelling at each other and he feels like his ears will start bleeding soon. A cacophony of smells hits his nose. Various spices fill the air and make his eyes water. Everywhere it smells of alcohol, unwashed bodies and vomit. The entire town turned into a bloody madhouse. 

Geralt stays close to Roach to block out at least some of the assault on his senses and quickly makes his way towards the academy grounds. Hopefully things will be calmer at the esteemed institution.

Nearly every corner he passes his instincts go into overdrive and tell him there's a threat, but it's always just those stupid snowmen that seem to be everywhere. 

By the time he reaches the gates to Oxenfurt Academy Geralt is about ready to just lay down on the snow and curl up on himself for an hour or two. But then Roach snorts impatiently and he forces himself to get her to the stables and organise a delicious slice of apple for her troubles. Roach hates big cities almost as much as he does. 

Then Geralt makes his way to the entrance of the main building. Just outside the large door it occurs to him that he has never visited Jaskier here. After winter they always met up somewhere halfway between Oxenfurt and Kaer Morhen. And those few times a contract took them into the city there was never enough of a problem that warranted staying the night at Jaskier’s quarters. 

Geralt pushes the heavy portal open and squeezes inside, accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes. The door falls closed again with a heavy thud and blessed silence falls over him. The inside of Oxenfurt Academy appears abandoned. 

Geralt lets himself sink against the door for a moment and takes a deep, relieved breath. 

A wave of longing and desire washes over him. 

Confused at his body's strange reaction, Geralt looks around, but the entry hall remains empty. 

He takes another deep breath and notices the smell. Lye soap scented with lavender and chamomile which must be used to scrub and polish the marble floor. It's the same soap Jaskier likes to use. It's only been a few weeks since they separated, but Geralt already misses the bard terribly. 

He has no idea which of the countless corridors branching off from the foyer will get him closer to his lover, so he strains his ears and follows the distant murmur of voices coming from one of the hallways. There must be someone around who can point him in the right direction. 

As he moves down the corridor and passes the occasional open door, he expects to get anxious. It's never a good idea for a Witcher to sneak around a place uninvited. Far too often they are met with suspicion and hostility. But instead, a sense of calm overcomes him. The same feeling he experiences when he returns to their camp or inn room after a hunt and the concern on Jaskier’s face is replaced by relief. 

Geralt takes another deep breath and realizes that he is surrounded by the smell of old parchment, candle wax and leather book bindings. A scent that seems to cling to Jaskier’s skin at any given time, even after they spent weeks tracking through the wilderness. The whole academy seems to smell like Jaskier. 

He finds a group of young students who point him in the direction of Jaskier’s rooms once he confirms that he is indeed the White Wolf from professor Pankratz's songs.

"Looks like the professor has been very good this year," one of them whispers once they think he's out of earshot. They snicker as he makes his way in the direction they pointed out. Geralt will never understand teenagers. 

He passes by the kitchen next. He can smell fresh bread rolls baking in the oven. 

A hint of thyme hangs in the air, only noticeable because he knows it'll be there. 

There have been plenty of occasions where he and Jaskier found themselves stranded in a town with no money or out in the wilderness with a strand of bad luck and no wildlife or other food to be found. 

In such circumstances Jaskier would always, without fail, produce a handful of bread rolls from the bottom of his pack. 

They're always squished and stale, of course, but it has been a long time since Geralt went hungry on the Path. And Jaskier’s bread rolls are always flavored with just a hint of thyme. 

Geralt allows himself a fond smile at the countless shared memories the smell brings up, before he heads on towards his lover's room. 

Jaskier’s scent, his presence, engulfs him with every step he takes and Geralt wonders how he ever managed to spend the winter apart. He misses his lovers dearly, both of them. Maybe his tardiness isn't such a bad thing after all. 

He finally finds the dorms labeled "Pankratz, office hours Mon-Fri 10am-12am, Nov-Feb only" and knocks. 

There's some commotion inside and it takes a while until the door gingerly opens. Clearly, Jaskier didn't expect any visitors. 

Even before the opening gets wide enough for him to see Jaskier, Geralt's favorite smell rises into his nose. The scent of the University mixes with something the corridors still lacked. Something uniquely Jaskier, that can't be described. And there's something else, too. An underlying note that brings the whole mixture to perfection, making him truly feel like he arrived where he belongs. A hint of lilac and gooseberries. 

"Yen, what are you doing here?" Geralt asks, baffled, once the door swings fully open. "And what the hell are you two wearing?" 

(vague follow-up to day 6)

[immortalxstories]

Prompt: write a little thing about Geralt knowing Jaskier is in mortal danger....but arriving just a little too late to save his life

WARNING: graphic description closer to the end of the prompt!

They’d been traveling for five years together now. No matter how many times Geralt had told Jaskier off, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of him, the bard stuck around, like a damned barnacle. 

Their latest adventure took them initially towards the Blue Mountains and the witcher school of the wolf in Kaer Morhen, with the plan to stop in Ban Ard for supplies, and then in Ard Carraigh, so Jaskier could spread yet another of his ballads he so meticulously worked on on their journey. As things were, there was a contract on a griffin as they arrived in the ever thriving town of mining and magic. The white haired witcher contemplated about taking it, knowing that they had to reach the mountain pass to Kaer Morhen before it was snowed in, though Jaskier insisted, and Geralt reluctantly agreed. Winter was still a-ways to go, and they could always use the coin, some for supplies and the rest for the gear Geralt had to keep in pristine conditions at all times.

Half a day later, after Geralt had managed to track the hybrid down, its tracks leading up the Blue Mountains, they set up camp on one of the rare plateaus on the mountain slopes. While the witcher busied himself with setting up the necessities they’d need for the evening and night before searching for the griffin in the morning, Jaskier stood at the edge of the plateau, taking in a deep breath and cracking a smile. 

“Look at the view from here, Geralt! I swear, I can see all the way to Toussaint!” An exaggeration, but it was just the display of Jaskier’s inner child then and there. He was prone to getting excited about the smallest things, something the witcher almost envied him for. The bard was still halfway so damn clueless about the actual dangers of the harsh and cruel world they lived in, even if having his fair share of participation in such events as well.

"Mhmmm," was Geralt's simple reply, not necessarily wanting to fuel Jaskier's excitement not wanting to shatter the illusion by saying that he probably couldn't see further than Ban Ard itself. 

Jaskier frowned a bit, clicking his tongue as he turned around to face Geralt. "Ah. B flat. You're not impressed," he stated, walking over to the witcher and trying to push him towards the edge, wanting him to see. "You're missing out, Geralt. When was the last time you stopped in your tracks and actually appreciated your surroundings?"

"Jaskier..." It was a low growl, the witcher really not having any patience for poetic talk or view appreciation. Grabbing the bard by his shoulder, Geralt forced him to sit down on a fallen tree stump, a deed the white haired man assumed was done by the griffin they were hunting. "Do me a favour and stay here while I gather some firewood."

Jaskier huffed, not liking it, but complied after all, grabbing his lute and strumming it while at the same time humming the tune of his latest ballad. Once Geralt was satisfied with that, even if his ears were practically filled with the tune and the lyrics that welt along with it, he moved into the bushes further ways away from the camp. All he needed was a few more branches, and some dry leaves before Igni would do the rest of the work, and with the sun setting behind the Kestrel Mountains in the distance, he figured that it was time to get back to the camp. 

Just as he was walking back through the shrubbery, there was a high pitched screech, heavy wings flapping through the air --- the griffin. It didn't go for him. Instead, it moved further towards their camp, and then...

"GEEEEERAAAAAAAALT!"

The firewood forgotten, the witcher dropped it and ran towards the camp, seeing it all destroyed upon arrival. Supplies were everywhere, Jaskier's lute on the ground, broken and laying in a small pool of blood, and the bard was nowhere in sight. Amber eyes looked towards the direction where the griffin flew off, managing to barely spot a limp figure in its claws --- Jaskier. Geralt's heart sunk into his stomach. "Oh no..." he whispered, instantly moving to get his silver sword and satchel with the supplies that somehow managed to survive the camp destruction. This time, he had a clear trail to follow, the scent he managed to catch from the few feathers from the camp and, as much as it pained him, Jaskier's blood.

The witcher probably never ran as fast in his life as he did now, stopping only when he needed to see if he was still going in the right direction. The woods were thick, the lower branches scratching his face here and there, but it didn't make him stop. He had to get Jaskier back. As much as he was a pain in the ass at times, he'd grown fond of the bard, and he couldn't lose him. 

Heart pounding as he finally reached the griffin's lair, the clear telltale signs making it apparent --- bones scattered everywhere, the ground dark from dried blood and the most obvious thing, the nest --- the witcher heard soft whimpers. Jaskier. "Fuck," Geralt cursed under his breath, pushing himself up the new more feet into the lair, instantly spotting Jaskier in the middle of the huge nest, the griffin nowhere in sight. But the bard... 

"G-G-Ger--alt..." Jaskier managed to press out, blood oozing from the corners of his lips, a cough escaping him which only had him cough up even more blood. His clothes were torn, stomach torn open as well, his intestines spilled over him and the dry branches of the nest, his whole body shaking. It was the first time that Geralt was severely shaken up, moving to the bard and taking his hand in his own ones. The witcher knew that Jaskier wouldn't make it, and the bard knew it as well. "H-How ba-ad...?"

"You'll be fine." A lie. A lie to make Jaskier hopefully feel a bit better during his final moments. "You'll be fine, yeah? Still got that new ballad to deliver to the crowd."

It had Jaskier smile just a little bit. "Y-Yeah... you know... m-my next o-one will be... 'bout y-you... a-and wh-what a go-good f-f-f-friend you a-are." At that point, breathing was more and more a struggle, more blood spilling from his lips and the grip on Geralt's hand just tightening. "Y-Y-You're my be... my b-best f-f-friend, G-G-Geralt.." 

One last small smile at the witcher, one last final breath and the shaking subdued as well as the movements, his eyes now staring blankly at Geralt.

The witcher drew a shaky breath, his one hand still holding Jaskiers while the other one moved to close the bard's eyelids.  "You're my best friend, too, Jaskier," Geralt said in a whisper. His only friend, the one he had and the one he lost. He'd stay there, with Jaskier. He'd stay there until the griffin would come back. And then? Then there'd be hell to pay.

[idealistsinc]

closed doors

The morning dawns a gauzy pink over Bloodshore. The ocean’s song hums along the beach, the lapping waves a faintly-tapped tambourine. Vhox wakes to a nest of blankets tangled about his hips and, for a moment, permits himself to bask in the sleepy warmth that tingles in every limb. He’ll never get used to the novelty of a familiar bed, nor of such a pleasant bedmate—

But a fumble of his arm over cold sheets reveals that Rin had already risen bells ago. It’s very like him to get up too early—assuming he even slept at all. Rin probably moved to the den to fuss over the Gate’s logbooks for the third time this week, a cup of coffee close at hand, violet eyes narrow and focused behind his glasses, his ears perked...Vhox stretches languidly, something soft unfurling in his chest like wings. Rin works much harder than his paycheque warrants. Perhaps, Vhox thinks, he will welcome a distraction from the sea of numerals, columns, and tables.

Vhox indulges a daydream of his preferred method of distraction for a little longer than he ought, then at last puts forth the effort to drag himself out of bed. The chilled, dewy dampness of the wooden floor chases the lingering heat from his soles; he shivers reflexively as he crosses it, reaching for the door.

There is something black under Vhox’s fingernails.

The room contracts to the size of a pin. Dirt, he tells himself as he digs the residue out from under his nailbeds, but dread coils around his throat like a hangman’s noose, cinching tighter and tighter with each passing heartbeat until his lungs spasm, until his eyes burn. Dirt, it’s dirt, it has to be dirt—

Through the window streams a red sun. Vhox notices, then, what he hadn’t before: the stains that splotch the floor like pitch. Ruddy sheets snarled at the foot of the bed. The reek of salt. Gods, how the room reeks of salt.

“Rin,” he breathes. “No, no, no—”

It is the way of these things that, when Vhox scrambles for the doorknob on the knife-edge of panic, it will not turn in his hand. His palms slip, soaked (with what), and he chokes on the memory of another door that would not open, another door slammed shut as the dark blotted out his vision and the acid boiled in his veins and he— “Rin, are you there? Th’ door’s—th’ door’s jammed. Rin?”

Oh, there is so very much that flakes from Vhox’s hands.

He sets his shoulder to the frame. He knows, in the way of these things, that he must get through that door—he crashes his weight into it, the sound drowned out by the screaming lash of the ocean against the shoreline. It does not budge. The floor sways beneath Vhox’s feet. There is no room, after all, just the shadows like the brig they threw him into while they decided what to do with him, a closed hole that stunk of salt and shit, back when he didn’t even know what he had done or yet could do. He never remembers when that side of him closes over his head like a wave—but he must have wanted to do it, right? Otherwise, why would he… Vhox presses hard against the wood, listening with single-minded desperation for a scuff, a cough, a footstep. Anything at all to show that Rin is still there, but all Vhox can hear is the deafening cannonade of his own heart. “Can you ‘ear me? Rin, fuck, I need—I need you to open the fuckin’ door, I can’t—”

Please, let him still be there. Let it be that he can hear him but won’t open the door. Let Rin think he’s a monster because he is one, let him leave him in this room to rot like he deserves, as long as he’s not—he’s not—he’s not—

But Vhox knows, in the way of these things, that the floor on the other side of the door is stained with a fluid like pitch. That the air there, too, reeks of salt. That through those windows as well as these streams a red, red sun.

That Rin can’t hear him, because—

“For fuck’s sake, say something! Answer me! Rin—”

. . .

Somewhere else, Vhox lurches upright in a dark, dark room. The blankets snare his legs like a fishing net, like a binding rope; he scrabbles away in blind terror and nearly clocks his skull on the headboard, gulping breaths that yet smell of salt, why does it reek of salt—

“Vhox?” The body in the bed with him stirs, sleep-muddled. Vhox can’t make out any of Rin’s features past the reddish haze that clouds his vision. “Are you all right?”

The monster says, No. It stalks at the very edge of his consciousness, a sharp-toothed, many-legged thing that ever urges: Protect yourself. Let go. Let go. Vhox sinks his nails into his thighs without feeling it, his whole world shrinking to holding the monster at bay in a white-knuckled grip. “Get out.” It comes out too thin, too pleading. “Get out, Rin, I’m—”

Rin sits up. But rather than put the safety of a shut, locked, barred door between them, he shifts closer. Vhox feels a gentle hand brush his shoulder, startlingly cool on his burning hot skin. “You’re not,” says Rin. “You’ve been working with Charlotte, haven’t you? Tell me what she told you to do.”

It’s true that Charlotte has coached him for several moons. Breathe, she always tells him. Deep to your core. Cling to control with both hands if you have to. But how can he cling to it, when he is the monster and the monster is him; how can he breathe past the thorns that snarl in his chest, because Rin is sitting far too close to the part of Vhox that screams in the back of his head, Kill him. Vhox wants to shove him away, but is stopped by the sudden, bloody conviction that he will drive his fist through Rin’s ribs by mistake if he tries. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Please, Rin, I don’t want to h—I don’t want to hurt you—”

“I know. And you’re not going to.” Rin is still touching him, palm gliding feather-light over his back. “You’re safe. We’re both safe, okay? Now, deep breath and hold it, like you’re going to swim. Can you do that?”

Vhox tries—for Rin’s sake if nothing else. He burns through breath too fast, exhaling roughly, struggling to fill his lungs instead of drawing shallow, whistling sips of the air. But after a few labored attempts, the strangling noose around his neck loosens. Rin waits until he breathes a little easier, then threads his fingers through Vhox’s claw-like ones, still clenched painfully on his thigh. “See? You’re not hurting me,” he says, guiding Vhox’s hand to his face with a confidence and trust that makes Vhox feel more than a little nauseated. He doesn’t dare so much as twitch as Rin skims Vhox’s calloused fingertips over the delicate flesh of his throat, his jaw, his cheek. “You won’t hurt me. You’re safe.”

He isn’t. Yet slowly, very slowly, the monster recedes like the tide, and the fear begins to drain down the scupper.

Rin must feel the first cord of tension release. He climbs into Vhox’s lap and presses flush against him, tucking his head into the space under Vhox’s chin, his skin smooth and bed-warmed, still. Vhox counts down a slowing string of heartbeats before he permits himself to touch him, feeling his way over the knobs of Rin’s spine, the sharp planes of his shoulder blades, the plume of his swishing tail—if Rin was frightened, if he at all considered he might end up with his guts spilled out over the bed for his trouble, he doesn’t otherwise show it. Vhox sighs into the curling strands of Rin’s hair.

There is much Vhox could say to him right now. Do you have a death wish? might be a good place to start. His stomach roils to imagine what he could have done to him; he wants to shout at him, demand to know what the fuck he was thinking to stay within striking range of a monster. But Vhox has done that already, more frequently than he would like to admit. And no matter how many times Vhox jolts awake in the middle of the night on the edge of a cliff, Rin weathers it uncomplaining—the man who bitches and moans when the sheets are the wrong thread count in seedy little Lower Decks taverns, uncomplaining when his sleep is interrupted and his life is threatened, as tender and gracious and kind as anyone has ever been to Vhox.

So Vhox tightens his arms around Rin, and instead, he says, “...Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Rin nuzzles Vhox’s sweat-soaked collarbone with a drowsy affection that turns Vhox’s heart over for entirely different reasons. “Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yeah. But s’nothin’.”

Vhox feels Rin tilt his head back a little as though to look at him, his voice dry. “Are you sure? If that was nothing, I dread to see what something looks like.”

For Vhox, something began when he woke one red Limsan morning to shredded bedsheets and a broken lock. He avoided spending nights with Rin for as long as possible, after that, until at last Rin’s increasingly obvious distress got the better of him and he had been forced to confess to the night terrors he once suffered—and apparently suffered still. And Rin handled it. By the Twelve, did he handle it. He paid for adjacent lodging at inns for a while, then slept perched in chairs when Vhox finally caved to guilt enough to share a room, ever accommodating when he should have been afraid. Why isn’t he? Vhox asks himself, too often, as he remembers how Rin stumbled into that camp a second time, the blood not yet dried on his bandaged arm, and begged for Vhox to come home. He should have been afraid, but wasn’t, because—

Vhox knows the reason. Even if he can’t admit it. Even if he doesn’t believe it, he knows. And though it would be for Rin’s own good to scare him away, though it would make him safe, Vhox can no longer bring himself to hurt him like that again. He is...too weak.

Perhaps it’s selfishness, but he doesn’t want to make Rin as terrified of him as Vhox is of himself.

“I’m sure.” He presses his lips to the crown of Rin’s head, aching in a way that does not bear thinking about too long. “But I’ll finish th’ night on th’ couch. More comfortable there.”

It’s a testament to how badly shaken Vhox must seem that Rin ventures no objections; he only leans up to kiss him properly, then reluctantly lets go. “All right. You’re welcome to come back when your shoulders start complaining about the sofa’s comfort, though.”

Vhox smiles wanly—not that Rin can see that, absent his glasses as he is—and slowly gets out of bed. The floor is cool and slightly damp from the humid air, but nothing more. It’s only when Vhox closes the bedroom door behind him, so that he lingers alone in the shadows and salt-sprayed air of the den, that he feels a disquieting echo...He cracks the door just an ilm, just to make sure he can. “Rin?”

“Yes?”

There is much Vhox could say to him. Thank you, to start. For his presence in his life and his bed, for the roof over his head, for a safe harbor to always return to. He doesn’t know what would have happened to him if Rin had not come back, if he had not reached out to the man and the monster both and said, “You don’t have to live like this. I don’t want you to.” Vhox remembers the domesticity of his dream before it soured, that sweet ambrosia of comfort and refuge, and begins in his heart, I…

No, not yet. Not even to himself.

“G’night,” says Vhox instead, the softness in his voice speaking to what he cannot, and melts away into the dark.

vhox belongs to @mimiorzea still

[dekatsu]

39, 74, bakudeku

Wilderness/Survival fic + Huddling for Warmth (ao3 link)

I think I might have focused too much on the huddling for warmth bit >

~

Izuku’s first thought is that he’s cold, walking behind Katsuki in the forest at dawn while trying to find their way back to their team.

His second thought is that this happened before. Years before, a whole decade, really. Back then Katsuki was Kacchan, bravely marching onwards, stick in his hand as he drew a small line into the dirt of the forest floor so that they notice when they start walking the same path again and again. Back then they got lost because Kacchan wanted to show him the channel hidden deep in the forest.

“But stay behind me, Deku, since you might fall into it. You are clumsy like that,” Kacchan had said. “Then you will catch a cold and we won’t be able to go beetle hunting tomorrow.” And then they had gotten lost in the forest because Kacchan had overestimated his abilities. By the time they got found, Kacchan’s hand was trembling as badly as his own and he was biting his cheek, trying not to cry.

Izuku hadn’t realized then but now that he thinks about it, Kacchan was always afraid of what lingered in the dark. A villain he could deal with. That was tangible and human. No, Kacchan was only afraid of the unexpected.

So, it’s no surprise that Katsuki’s agitation spikes now as he throws his hands up and says, “don’t fall behind, Deku! We are almost there. Move your ass before it gets dark.”

“Coming,” Izuku says and pretends that they aren’t lost. If he points it out, Katsuki will keep walking out of spite and they might end up walking through the night. That’s not something Izuku wants to do. He picks up a stick, traces it against the ground and does what Kacchan used to do. He leaves a trace.

“Why the fuck did we have to get lost?” Katsuki grumbles.

Izuku looks up at him, asks, “we are lost?” and waits for the refute to his observation.

But it doesn’t come. Instead Katsuki stops right in front of him and stares at something between the trees. “Something moved,” he says.

“It might be an animal,” Izuku comments.

Katsuki stays silent for a moment before he turns to Izuku and says, “let’s make camp here. If we keep walking, we might get further from the team.”

“Right,” Izuku agrees. He throws his stick on the ground, goes around to gather some more and then he some rocks. Katsuki is still staring at the trees, obviously waiting for something to move again.

“If it’s a person, I’ll beat them up,” he mutters darkly.

Izuku tries hard not to chuckle, or smile, or otherwise make known that he heard that. When he’s done gathering sticks and stones, he places them together into a little campfire, stones carefully arranged around the sticks. “Your turn, Katsuki.”

Katsuki grunts, leans forward to take a stick out of the bundle and light it up with his quirk. Then he sticks it back into Izuku’s small nest, trying to ignite a small fire. Izuku sits across from him, stares at the flames and wonders at the adventures from their childhood.

Back then, everything seemed so easy. Even getting lost in the forest only gave them a little scare before they broke out to go beetle hunting the very next day.

Today, Izuku can’t even sort through his feelings enough to determine if the beating of his heart is from the threat of a cold night or the proximity of Katsuki and the prospect of a night alone together beneath the stars.  

He doesn’t even get the time to consider that before Katsuki asks, “why did you stop?”

“Stop what?” Izuku looks up from the fire to see the last rays of sunlight die behind Kacchan. “Do you think they will find us?”

“There is no need for them to find us,” Katsuki grunts, stirring the fire up further with his stick. “I’ll find the way back as soon as the sun rises.”

“You said that back then, too, you know,” Izuku remarks, seeing his mother’s crying face in the flames, when the police had finally found them near the channel, well on their way further out of town.

“I would have found the way. It’s not my fault they got to us first.”

“Perhaps.” Izuku hides his smile behind his arms as he hugs his knees. “We never got lost after that, though. You made sure of that.”

“I’m not making the same mistakes twice.”

No, Izuku thinks. No, Katsuki won’t make the same mistakes twice. He will make new ones and learn from those as well, until he’s mastered them all.

And here Izuku is, unable to look at him in fear of his feelings showing on his face. It would be just like him, that Katsuki misunderstood everything but understands the emotions on his face right when he sees them. That would make a good end to their tail of misunderstandings.

“You didn’t answer my question, Deku.”

“Hmm,” Izuku hums and rests his forehead against his knees. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he lies.

“Don’t pretend with me,” Katsuki says and stands up. He trails the smoking end of his stick through the ground until he’s standing in front of Izuku. “Why did you stop calling me Kacchan?”

“We aren’t kids anymore.”

“Try again.”

“I grew out of it.”

The stick moves away as Katsuki’s shoes come into view, and then his knees because he squats down in front of Izuku. “Try again, Deku. That didn’t stop you before.”

“Why do you ask anyway?”

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?”

Yeah. “Maybe,” Izuku replies and closes his eyes. “Can’t you let me keep at least one secret? I’m cold, Katsuki. You are stealing the warmth of my fire.”

Izuku feels the heat of the flames as Katsuki moves away and then tenses when he drops down to sit right next to him.

“But do you want to keep it?” Katsuki asks.

Izuku’s heart jumps in no but Izuku says, “yes,” before he moves closer to the fire and away from Katsuki. “This one is mine,” he whispers. “Leave me be, I’m cold.”

There is a small shuffle behind him, before he hears Katsuki snort. “Then at least try to keep it,” Katsuki says and then he’s everywhere. His arms make their way around Izuku’s waist as he pulls Izuku closer until they are back to chest and he can rest his chin on Izuku’s head. The fire sits in front of him but it’s Izuku’s back which burns and his nape which tingles with the awareness of their proximity.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Katsuki,” Izuku protests, tries to shift away but Katsuki’s hands are firm around him and he can only pull his head away.

Katsuki’s next words are breathed against his nape and Izuku goes absolutely still at that, covering his nape with both his hands, his face between his knees as he tries to fight the flush suddenly lighting his body up. “Your secret for mine.” Kacchan’s words finally register in Izuku’s head.

Izuku can’t help it, he whines. “You are always doing that.”

“What?”

“Prying my heart open and making me spill everything. It’s why I won’t call you Kacchan, alright! Kacchan is my childhood friend who showed me a way to conquer the world and reach my dreams. Kacchan misunderstood me and fought with me. Kacchan made up with me and helped me master my quirk. Kacchan took and demanded.

“But Katsuki. Katsuki asks for what he wants. Katsuki smiles and snorts. Katsuki knows all my secrets and decides to trade them for his. Katsuki cries sometimes and accepts defeat. Katsuki shows me all that and tries really hard not to hate himself or me, for sharing weakness-“

Izuku shuts his mouth, suddenly horribly aware that he rambled all that out loud in one breath. He presses his head down between his knees, makes himself small in hopes of hiding and getting away from this conversation.

Instead of getting away though, it only gives Katsuki room to rest his chin on Izuku’s clasped hands. “So, you like Katsuki more?”

Izuku pulls one hand away to ram his elbow back into Katsuki’s stomach. Katsuki, the asshole knows how to tease as well.

His hands at least fall away from Izuku’s waist, giving him the opportunity to scramble away and get to his feet to glare down at his stupid, infuriating crush.

“The fuck, Deku,” Katsuki groans but Izuku ignores it and says, “it’s your turn. What were you doing?”

“You said you’re cold. I was trying to warm you up.” He rubs a hand over his stomach one more time, before leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs, knees in the air.

“Don’t lie.” Izuku frowns. “Now it’s you who’s hiding something, Kacchan.”

“What happened to Katsuki?”

“He reverted back to Kacchan.”

Katsuki laughs, then holds a hand up and says, “it’s cold, Deku. Get down here so we can warm up.”

“And?”

“And perhaps I’ll tell you that your Katsuki returns the sentiment.”

Ah, Izuku things, cheeks burning again. “No whispering,” he demands. There is no way he will be able to stop himself from squirming when Katsuki whispers behind his ear.

Katsuki just shrugs and pulls Izuku down to sit between his legs again. “Perhaps I’m a little cold, too,” he says and as soon as Izuku sits down, he hides his face where Izuku’s shoulder meets his neck.

And then he whispers, his breath hot against Izuku’s skin. It makes his skin break into goosebumps and he’s ready to retaliate, until…

Until he realizes what Katsuki has confessed.

Then he tries to hide himself between his own limbs again and ignores the sound of Katsuki’s laughter.

It’s going to be a very long night for Izuku’s heart.

Maybe he will return the words in the morning, when he can actually think past the arms around his waist. For now, he will try not to melt into the ground and extinguish the fire.

[lupizora]

Castaways On A Foreign Planet (2/5)

I have officially beat my fear of posting the second chapter! It sounds so irrational when I say it aloud but I was always worried if the next chapter will leave up to the first, especially if it had been well received. >.> That means I can slowly start working on the rest of my multi-chaps and whatever comes. Interest is so fickle on the internet. It shouldn't weight down my creativity and productivity.

This chapter is for the @kacchakobittersweetweek 's theme of Confrontation. I have one more chapter planned for the week and by the looks of it, this story will end around chapter five (maybe six, if chapter four gets too long). XD

Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance

Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka

Rating: T

Summary: Ochako thought she had settled into her job as a mercenary. Katsuki thought there was only one reason to fly. Together they thought they knew their place in this war. But all it took to question everything was find each other again.

The ledge broke under Ochako's boots as she jumped from one rock formation to another.

"Arrogant," she hissed.

The wind whipped at her face and rustled her bangs. "Selfish."

Her boots hummed as they activated and pushed her off the ground. Conflicting emotions had tied themselves into a knot inside her chest. She couldn’t grasp how someone could be so ungrateful and rude to the person who had saved his hide from certain death.

"Jerk!" Ochako reached the plateau with one last jump.

As if she had wanted to drag his unconscious body—which had been heavier due to the higher gravity of this planet—out of that burning cockpit. She should have left him in there and spared herself from this grief. But she didn't because her consciousness wouldn't leave her alone if someone died on her watch. It baffled her though, how she hadn't recognized Bakugou when she took off his helmet. Maybe because he hadn’t had the otherwise permanently carved scowl on his face. He had appeared almost peaceful… until he woke up.

Pain shot through her chest as if her lungs stopped functioning. She hiccupped. No one besides her teachers knew why Ochako had left the Academy. Her grades had been decent, especially in their flying lessons. The incident with the Sparrow happened because of engine malfunction—forcing her to perform an impromptu landing. Thanks to her accurate calculations no one got hurt except Bakugou's pride. He started antagonizing her in all of their training sessions from that day forward. It had been surprising since he had ignored Ochako's existence during the whole semester. But as the challenges came and went, she found herself focusing harder than before, and giving her all wholeheartedly. After a while, Bakugou started lingering a bit longer after sessions. His eyes followed her whenever they were occupying the same space, although he seemed to think she wasn't looking. Ochako had even dared to hope there was something more to this than merely their growing rivalry. But she hadn't had the chance to find out for sure because she left.

I'm not gonna cry over this, she thought, wiping the tears from her eyes. It’s not worth it.

Up ahead, secluded between two rock pillars and illuminated by the light of the moon, stood her escape pod. Ochako climbed inside and sealed it shut. After returning the first aid kit back to its niche, she laid down on her seat. The bulletproof glass did little to protect her from the cold nesting inside her chest. Hugging her knees and with a clouded mind, she drifted to sleep.

For the next couple days, Ochako would crawl to the edge of the plateau and observe Bakugou’s camp. Some of the controls still worked because the Peregrine had returned into a horizontal position. Under her jacket’s protection from the scorching heat, she saw him working on different parts of the ship but not making any significant progress. Back then, she had been too preoccupied with his wounds to notice the true state of the spacecraft. But considering the windscreen was in shambles, the ship couldn’t fly out of here even with a functional engine.

When Ochako returned to the escape pod that night, she let her gaze wander on its surface. The rough landing had left minor dents here and there but she couldn’t use it to get out of there anyway. Being considered a last resort, the pod didn’t have any controls to drive. One only hoped for others to find them if they used it. Bad luck had it for the planet to pull in the pod instead of letting it float amongst the asteroid field.

Ochako snuggled in the seat, stretching her legs on top of the console. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the black surface of a screen. It was a digital frame previously adorning the Peregrine’s control panel. Ochako had grabbed it without much thought. However, after a closer examination, she was surprised to find it contained a video of familiar faces from the Academy. Kirishima—another pilot trainee, his personality vibrant as his wild red hair—and Kaminari—a radio operator spending more time in the spacecraft docks than the communications room—where seen dragging Bakugou inside the camera’s scope. Bakugou managed to shake them off but Sero—the mechanic that always got roped into the other two’s shenanigans—grabbed him by the collar of his uniform. Whatever he said made Bakugou stop resisting and he reluctantly stood in the middle. The video ended with all of them posing for the camera, the body of a spaceship and part of the docks visible in the background.

Bakugou had never struck Ochako as the sentimental type. Considering what she remembered from back then, it had probably been Kirishima’s idea. But the video brought a smile to her face nonetheless; reminding her of peaceful and simpler times, when all she had to worry about was not fail her classes.

Ochako didn’t ponder often about her decision to become a mercenary. She had done it with a clear mind and a set heart. But with nothing to distract her, she had mulled over it a lot in the past few days. Everything happened so her parents can have a more comfortable life. They had insisted she followed her dream to be a pilot, but their already dire situation became worse because of the war. Graduation stopped being Ochako’s goal soon after.

Pulling at the chain around her neck, she let the disk-shaped locket fall on her palm. Purple lines glowed in an elaborate pattern on its surface and a recorded holo-message of her parents materialized.

“Whatever path ya chose, remember that Papa and Mama won’t stop loving ya,” her dad said, hugging his wife close. “Yer a strong girl, Ochako. All we want is ya to be happy.”

“Always follow your heart, dear. It’ll never lead you astray,” her mother added.

The hologram flickered for a moment longer before disappearing back inside the locket. Ochako returned it beneath her turtleneck. It was hard to follow her heart because it told her Bakugou had people waiting for him to return home too. But it also told her she ought to wait until he realized his own hopelessness. Then, hopefully, he would ask for her help.

His scornful tone from their last conversation replayed in her head. Ochako covered her face, letting an angry whine. It was beyond the realm of wishful thinking for Bakugou to even remember she was still around, more so ask for her help. They had been stuck together on this planet for a week now, and he hadn’t shown any signs of recognizing her presence. Ochako could wait. This pod wasn’t as confined as the other places she had stayed. But she was tired of this suffocating gravity already. If he didn’t want to make the first move, she would.  

When the twin suns passed their highest point the following day, Ochako climbed on the boulder she had been using to overlook Bakugou's camp. It rose six meters high above the ground. She had calibrated her boots accordingly, but the prospect of this jump sent her heart into a pounding frenzy.

This is your only chance, she repeated like a mantra.

With a deep breath, Ochako hugged the digital frame and walked over the edge. Gravity pulled at her legs like invisible vines right away. The system activated after a meter of free falling. She continued her descend as if she was walking down a staircase in midair. Her knees throbbed from the pressure, but she endured it until she landed. The ventilators on her soles raised a small dust cloud around her ankles.

Up ahead, Bakugou was hammering the surface of the right wing again. The clanging sounds became louder as Ochako approached, but his back remained turned even when she reached the left wing.

"So… how's it going?" she asked.

Bakugou stopped mid-blow, and a shiver ran its course on his shoulders. After a couple of heartbeats in silence, he resumed his work.

Ochako sighed and circled around the ship. Holding the digital frame behind her back, she inspected the exhaust. The metal constituting it had bent slightly upwards, looking like the frown face of a tragedy mask.

"Your thrusters are busted. Hard to fix but not impossible." Ochako peeked from behind the tail. "With the right parts," she chimed.  

Bakugou finally turned with the familiar scowl on his face. Grease and machine oil were covering almost every inch of visible skin. He had unzipped the upper part of his spacesuit, revealing the black tank top he wore underneath. Ochako pretended not to notice as she approached the damaged wing. Her fingers traced over the initials G-0 on the hull which scorched a bit under her fingertips. She crouched down to take a look under the wing. Cables were tangling from the missing plates of the underside, and a large crack spread along what would be considered the wrist of a real bird's wing.

"What the fuck do you want?" Bakugou asked. His voice was a lot coarser than last time, as if unused.

Ochako ignored the shudders on her spine and with a tap of her shoes, jumped in front of him. Before he could protest, she presented him the digital frame.

"I came to return this."

He blinked confused and took it from her hands. His expression didn't change when the video started playing.

"It'd be a shame if it got lost in the fire. So… I salvaged it," Ochako said. "It seemed like something precious."

Bakugou put the frame aside on his toolbox and crossed his toned arms. "Don't waste my fucking time," he said. "What's the real reason?"

"This was one of them," Ochako insisted and waved a hand at the ship. "You can't fix this on your own. Even if you somehow manage to get it flying, you'll never get off this planet without functioning wings. They'll shatter before you cross the stratosphere."

"Are you blind, Round Face? This is what—"

"What about your windscreen? If not the cold, you'll die from the pressure. Face it. You have neither the team nor the parts to do this right." She offered her hand. "Let's make a deal. My pod is in good condition. I can give you the parts you need."

Bakugou narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "All right…"

"But!" Ochako lifted her pinky finger. "You have to promise that you'll take me along when you leave."

"What? Are you five or something?"

"It's either that or you won't see even a glint of those parts. Your choice."

His chest expanded as Bakugou took an angry breath, his nostrils flaring. The lion had been cornered but Ochako wouldn’t back down no matter how much he decided to growl. Their stare off was interrupted by a different kind of sound though.

The loud rumble of an empty stomach.

Bakugou looked away. Red bloomed on his cheeks, brighter than the sunburns already in place. "Can't make clear decisions right now," he said after the awkward pause. "Wait until I get something to eat."

There was barely anything left of his provisions, and he wouldn’t accept if Ochako offered hers. He'd have to hunt. But marching hungry in an unknown territory was too dangerous. She knew that all too well, having to spend several days without eating between missions.

"I could get you something," she said and added quickly because of his murderous glare. "Blab all you want about your endurance training, but you've been working non-stop.” She pointed at the forest line behind her back. “You'll just draw unwanted attention if you march in there like this. I'm better rested so I'll be done in no time."

"How do I know you won't poison me, take my ship and leave?"

"You never listen, do you? I can't fix the ship on my own either. And…" Ochako clenched her fists, her nails digging painfully into the flesh of her palms. "Someone has to pilot it.”

Understanding crossed over Bakugou’s features. He clenched his jaw, staring at the space between them like it burned. “Go,” he said through his teeth. “We’ll continue over dinner or whatever.”

Ochako nodded with a forced small smile and jumped back to the ground. Before she could take another step though, she heard shuffling above.

“Hey!” Bakugou stood at the edge of the wing. But the frown was softer, his eyebrows just a smudge less angled.  “Don’t get killed,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Ochako replied with a mock salute.

Her smile grew larger when he couldn’t see her face anymore. Maybe the spark back in the Academy hadn’t been only her imagination.

Beyond the forest’s brow, the scorched earth turned into ochre-colored grass. Mahogany brown trunks climbed high enough to obscure the suns with their wide foliage. They resembled lily pads sprouting from the bottom of a red lake. Her surroundings carried the faint aroma of strawberries too. It reminded Ochako of her mother. She used to cultivate some on the porch, right outside their door. But the golden glow her mother’s lean figure basked under was always cold inside her memories.

Birds with rich plumage passed overhead, startling Ochako out of her daydreaming. Their long tails left colorful trails behind like they were light-painting. Armadillo-like critters rustled the blades of grass on her right. They scurried away as fast as their tiny feet could carry them; wobbling like drunk elderly. Seeing other living creatures was a blessing after the past week’s desolation. But she had come here to hunt. The critters’ rough grey armor appeared tough like a crab’s but it wouldn’t hold a candle against her carbon-enhanced knife.

Ochako followed them deeper into the forest. Droplets were forming on her clothes like dew drops as the temperature got cooler. Without her realizing, the grass had reached her waist when the critters disappeared.

She stopped.

Chills crawled along her spine like slithering snakes. It was too quiet. She pulled out her knife and closed both hands around the handle. Listening patiently to the familiar—and maybe not so familiar—sounds of the forest, Ochako took calculated steps forward. She couldn’t pinpoint what was amiss. This sensation strained her nerves to their breaking point until stalks of grass broke with a loud crunch from her left. Something leaped out of there and Ochako dived forward. After a barrel roll, she jumped back to her feet and turned around. There was only an empty spot in the vegetation before her. She scanned the perimeter without turning her back to it when something blue shot out of the void. It swooshed above her shoulder as she dodged. The scenery trembled like the waters of a pond, painting the silhouette of a four-legged creature. While returning to the creature’s wedge-shaped snout, the blue forked tongue left behind a trail of translucent saliva.

Ochako bolted.

Her heart thumped hard against her chest. She slalomed between the trees. The heavy steps of the beast chasing her pounded on the ground like sledgehammers. Her breathing was labored. She felt like she was running through a swamp. Yet, she couldn’t stop. The creature was too big to deal with just a knife. She needed time to think; somewhere to take a breather and regroup her thoughts.

The trees around her opened up into a glade. On its other side, there was a tree with a bigger trunk than the rest but without lower branches like them too. Ochako turned left and made a wide arc inside the clearing. The beast—with its big awkward body—stumbled and rolled over. It gave her enough time to re-activate her boots. Pocketing the knife, Ochako dashed full speed ahead. Just as the beast recovered and growled, showing its pointy teeth, she jumped. The ventilators hummed on her first step midair. She didn’t drop the pace, hopping from one imaginary solid spot in the air to the next like an experienced dancer. The beast tried to reach her, its tongue missing her right foot for centimeters. Ochako’s stomach leaped to her throat and she forced her next jump to be higher. Her hands got ahold of the nearest tree branch when gravity returned with full force. She dangled from it, her shoulders screaming in protest. Hitting her ankles together ignited the boosters on her heels, and she made a 360° turn around the branch before leaping onto the next one. With the combined effort of her boosters and a couple of acrobatics, Ochako managed to perch closer to the main foliage. Below her, the beast trashed its tail and jumped, but she was too high to reach. As if disappointed, the beast continued pacing back and forth at the root of the tree.

Ochako went over her options. She could try passing above the creature but the next tree was at least two meters away. Her boots weren’t made for long-distance running and they were already pushed at their limits. The beast was so fast too. There was no way to outrun it once she reached the ground. For a moment she wondered if Bakugou would come looking for her if she didn’t return soon. It was highly unlikely. He wouldn’t put himself in danger by going so deep into the forest. There were other ways to find food and he would eventually locate the pod, without or without her help. All she had tried to do with this venture was win his trust.

With nothing else to do, Ochako decided to wait for the beast to leave on its own. Certainly, it wouldn’t take long and she had all the time in the world.

[allonsy-yesiwill]

Prepared to Die

For : Triple Threat!!! Challenge  @beckawinchester and  @riversong-sam Sorry I was late kids time got away from me. But I hope you like it :) 

My prompt was Swan Song

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Bobby, John, Reader’s Sister and Parents

Summary: 20 years ago life sent you on a mission and now as it’s almost over, approaching the grand finale to a beaten and bruised life, your swan song.

Word Count:2473

Warnings: Profanity, angst, character death, violence

You sit behind the wheel of your 1979 Scout, taking in the interior and sending a silent thank you to your dad for teaching you everything you needed to know to take care of his car after he passed. A single tear drops leaving a soft trail on your face as you remember that night.

_____

Your family was camping for a week, not too far from town. The night it happened was your last night there. You and your dad stayed up late, he was showing you the stars and teaching you the name of the constellations. Then all of a sudden he stopped talking and put his hand up for you to be quiet, you did. You watch in ah as he puts out the fire and hands you the car keys telling you to not start it but just get in and hide. Then he turned to the other tent to get your mom and sister. You were the oldest 14, on this trip your dad started to teach you a bit about hunting. You told him you couldn’t kill a dear they are too cute, he smiled at your kindness and continued to share all of his hunting and tracking knowledge with you. With your new tools still in the front of your mind, you moved quickly to the car, and took note of the other shapes moving in the dark.

You were in the car hiding under a blanket when you heard the gun go off. You jumped  and covered your mouth to insure no noise come out as the tears fell from your face. You didn’t know it at the time but hunters has just made their move on a vamp nest not to far from where you were camping, 5 of the vamps took off and ran right into your campsite. Your dad tried to defend his family however he didn’t know what he was up against. When the bullet failed, the vamps teeth were already draining his blood.

Soon after the shots were fired you heard voices yelling one deep and angry, “Winchester, I should have known.”  You hear a struggle and what sounded like slashing and then things went quiet, until they start taking.

“Bobby, did any of them make it.”

“No John, and it looks like there are 3 missing vamps.”  You mind freezes taking the words in, vamp like vampire.

“Let’s see if we can get them, we can come back and clean up this site before dawn,” the man you are assumed is John said before you hear them leave.

That night was the last night you were a child. You packed up what you could tears rained down your face the whole time. Before you left you pressed your warm lips to the cold forehead of your mother and father, letting them know you loved them and you would not let them down. Before you drove off you looked everywhere for you sister but she was nowhere to be found. She was smaller only 8, you figured that had taken her and hoped that this John or Bobby would be able to help save her.

_____

20 years later you now sit. In those 20 years you learned about all of the monster, you found Bobby and also lost him.  However Bobby told you that sometimes they would take a feeder, there was one time other hunters found a girl that was never turned but just used to bring them people to feed off of, so you had hope for you sister. With Bobby’s knowledge also came connections. One of them gave you the location of the cabin that now sat only 400 feet away from you, Grath confirmed that you would find the nest with the three vamps that got away that night, fingers crossed also your sister. Grath told you to wait for backup but you were going to do this, this is your grand finale to a beaten and bruised life, your swan song.

You had been sitting there for little over an hour, no one has come or gone and the sun was still up. You only had about 1 more hour before the sun was setting so you made your move. Machete in its holster on the side, the gun in your hand held a round of custom made bullets full of dead man's blood and in your interior pocket a needle full of the same just incase they caught you and turned you.

Approaching the house you, using all of your skills and knowledge to not make a sound, you can see that everyone is sleeping a total of 8 inside. Fuck that’s more than you have ever taken out before. You move around the cabin quietly taking the vamps in looking for you sister, quickly recognizing the 3 vamps that helped end your families life. While you never saw them that night, Bobby had been tracking this nest for awhile and shared all of his info.

That’s when you see it, your sister laying next to the one that probably took her.But you can’t tell if she’s been turned, she is older than that day but is she old enough, you don’t know. You plan you attack, knowing when the first shot is fired everything was going to move with lighting speed. You steady your weapon and as you squeeze the trigger, you doubt your resolve to take down your own sister.  

Your shot does not fail and hit the vamp sleeping next to your sister and everyone springs to life, you take a few more out before you are hit from the side taking you down. It’s now hand to hand, you had trained for this, you could and were taking the punches while you slowing released your machete from it’s holster and relieved the monster of its head, jumping up after.

4 vamps plus your sister are circling you, only one left form that fateful night. “ Do you know who I am you mother fucker, My name is Y/F/N, you killed my father, now prepare to die.” Before you took what was probably going to be your first last step you looked at your sister, sharing a silent exchange after quoting your favorite shared movie. After that you moved quickly, killing the one final vamp that escalated your life into adulthood and as you again were knocked to the ground you find you gun taking out at least one more vamp before darkness falls.

When your eyes reopen you find yourself bound to a chair. Trying to take everything in, you feel light headed, you are pretty sure they have drank from you. You lick your lips to insure that they did not try and feed you their blood, you feel nothing and let out a breath of relief. You whole body is screaming in pain, with many things broken after the battle.

“Oh look she’s awake, Y/N it’s like a family reunion that no one ever wanted ,” you sister let out,” You know before they turned me I used to hope and pray that you would come from me. But now, well it’s just to late and clearly you have become a hunter. So that leaves me with an interesting dilemma, do I suck you dry or do I turn you? If I turn you, you will undoubtedly kill yourself.” She pauses pulling out your needle full of dead man’s blood,”It looks like you were already prepared for that.”

She stops talking as another vamp enters the room pulling her out to talk. A tear falls as you take in your sisters words, you failed her and know you created this. Your heart sank. She enters the room again this time she places a small knife in your hands whispers, “The Winchesters are coming, they will save you but just in case. Thank you for coming Y/N, I love you sis.”

As voices approach she stands tall and gives a look of I am sorry before back handing you yell, “Who the fuck did you tell about us, fucking hunters.”  You mind it running 100 miles an hour, Winchesters like John. Bobby did tell you he had sons and how did my sister know that they would save me. Your sister continues to give the appearance of torturing you, however you know she’s not using all of her strength just enough to sell it to the other vamps and the blade she gave you is slowing cutting through the ropes that bound you.

You are freeded just after the door is broken down, all of the vamps attention is turned on them until you are free, you are taken back down quickly and without a weapon you had a little chance. Your sister knew that and quickly borrowed the blade from the taller brother was going to use on her and slid it your way.

While you reach for the blade and remove the head you will never heard the conversation between the man you will soon know as Sam and your sister. “ Please save her, Y/N, she’s my sister please.” This made Sam pause, not killing her instead he turned his attention to his brother who was yelling his name.

You sister is the only vamp still standing in the room, as you slowly move your broken body into a standing position you hear Sam yell , “ Dean don’t.”  Your sister is holding you, apologizing and crying. Sam is holding Dean back only able to watch.

Pulling out of the hug, you pressed your foreheads together both in tears.

“I am so sorry turtle, I ….I , “ your voice cracked. “It’s okay Y/N, you came, you saved me. Like I always knew you would. I am going to need you to do one more thing for me Rabbit,” she paused but you know what she was going to ask,” I never wanted this, I can’t continue like this. I know those two over there will help you, I helped John many years ago and he told me that you were still out looking for me. I assumed he never got the message to Bobby or else you would have been here sooner. But these are John’s kids, they are hunters too. John promised me he would treat you as family, and I am assuming these boy will step up to the plate as well.”

You sister pauses to turn her attention to the boys, who both now understand. John had told them about the two sisters Turtle and Rabbit, how John had failed to save both of them that night and continued to try to make it right. As you turn you realize your recognize one of the boys

“Y/N,” the words softly leave Dean’s mouth.

“Agent Ford,,” you question your sister laughs.

“That’s one’s actually Dean and the other is Sam, John told me a lot about both of you. I am surprised Dean over here doesn’t just go out and call himself Han Solo, “ you sisters words made everyone chuckle.

You turned back to your sister, “ I don’t know if I can, can’t we wait a bit. I just found you again.”

“We can’t wait, I don’t want you to remember me as a monster. I want you to remember me as your little turtle. Always slowly chasing behind you, hoping someday I could grow up to be as fast as my older sis.”

The tears are falling fast again but you smile and nod and share one last hug. Before stepping away you let out, “You are as fast as me sis, I am so proud of you. I love you”

As you are stepping away you sister calls out, “ Hey Han over there, make sure you take care of this princess for me.”

You share a smile with your sister both eyes filled with tears as you raise your blade, you sister give you a look of love and says “ Thank you Rabbit.” You swing and with that both of your bodies colplass lifelessly to the ground. The only difference is the heavy sobbs exiting your body as your blade falls

Dean is there to catch you just above the ground, he holds you sitting on the floor, letting you cry, whisper soft comforting words in your ear. You weren’t too sure how long you stayed there but as you ran out of tears you felt like it was too long, so you pushed yourself away from Dean.

“Y/N, we need to get you banaged up, “ he said softly brushing some hair behind your ear.

“I need to take care of her first, she needs a..a…” you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“Shh princess, Sam is already taken care of that,” he says helping you stand up. He puts his arm around you helping you to carry some of your weight as you walk outside.

You can see Sam finishing up the pyre, cutting the last few pieces. Your tears start to flow again, as Dean wraps you in a hug. You cry out, “ Why won’t this stop.”  You feel Dean chuckle a little, “Because you loved her, she is family.” He softly presses his lips to the top of your head as you let it all go.

Limping closer to the pyre, you see her wrapped in a white sheet,on top. You aren’t tall enough to give her one last kiss like you did your parents, Dean notices and picks you up just enough to reach her forehead. Just like your final goodbye with your parents you let her know you love her and that you would not let her down, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to the top of the sheets. Dean place your feet back on the ground and handed you the torch, keeping his body firmly pressed against yours with his hand on your hip as you lit the pyre.

As the fire burns you feel everything wash over you and you take a moment to tell Dean you might need to lay down as you feel your body starting to fail. Before you let Dean help you back to the car you let out your last words to your family, “Thank you Turtle.”  

Let me know what you think....I had a hard time wrapping this one up so if you want to another chapter let me know. 

[chameleonspell]

186: boundaries

The mountains of northern Vvardenfell were an unforgiving place, riddled with caves and gouged with deep, volcanic trenches. The latter, known locally as foyadas, were perilous to navigate, their steep sides granting travellers no escape from swooping cliff racers or marauding kagouti packs. No escape from the impressive acoustics, either. "Sixty-third came a Bosmer whore, toothy and stout, What goes in a Wood Elf's mouth doesn't come out! Sing ohhh, the loves of Boethiah! The ninety-nine loves of Boethiah!" It was only their second hour of hiking since breaking camp, but Iriel was already pondering self-targeted Silence spells, or, failing that, the sound-muffling properties of shalk resin.

"A Hist, twenty-eighth, spread its roots for a view, At least, that's what we think it was trying to do! Sing ohhh, the loves of Boethiah! The ninety-nine loves of Boethiah!" More than getting beetle-gunk permanently lodged in his auditory canal, Iriel was afraid of being passive-aggressive and spoiling the mood. Julan was in the kind of high spirits he usually only reached with the aid of at least four bottles. That said, Ire's tolerance had limits. "The fourteenth was a Sload with reversible tube, The thing about Sload is, you never need--" "You sang fourteenth already!" Ire couldn't keep the anguished betrayal from his voice. Julan glanced over his shoulder. "Did I?" he remarked blithely. "Yes! I've been keeping track! But it wasn't a Sload, it was something lurid about a Khajiit who was flexible enough to reach any part of his anatomy with his tongue." Iriel sucked in his cheeks, suddenly pensive. "I'm beginning to understand why Dro'Zaymar didn't require my company, that night in St Delyn." "Huh?" "Never mind. Are there really ninety-nine verses?" "'No, of course not!" "Oh, thank Mara." "There's far more than that, because if you run out, you make them up as you go along!" As Iriel closed his eyes and moaned, Julan gave him a condescending look. "Ire, you say filthier things than this all the time." "I know, but with these awful tavern songs, I'm always waiting for the next 'hilarious' thing that'll hit me somewhere it hurts. Humour like this depends on using other people for its punchlines." "Look, the one about the Nord girl with the plaited moustache I got from Sottilde, so--" "I don't care!" "I skipped all the verses about Altmer!" "I've already composed them in my head via guesswork, and upset myself, so you needn't have bothered!" "Lighten up, Ire. I sang the bit with the Dunmer who married a guar, didn't I? Nobody's safe with this sort of song." "Let me try one, then." Iriel chewed his lip for a while, then sang: "An Ashlander maid, sacred clit-rings on show, They have twelve words for 'fuck me' and no word for 'no'." To his satisfaction, Julan's face immediately darkened. "That," he said, "was over the line." "EXACTLY!!! Because you know where that line is! Stop pretending you do for everyone else!" Julan threw up a hand. "OK! Fine! Let's sing your one about the dead baby in the pond again, that'll keep our spirits up!" Iriel watched him march on ahead, skipping over rocks in his path, already humming the opening strains of The Kwama Miner's Daughter. Perhaps there was nothing extreme about Julan's cheerfulness, Iriel considered. Perhaps anyone would appear cheerful in comparison to himself, and the creeping dread that tugged, tar-like, at his heels with every step. His spirits require no support, while mine are beyond salvaging. What are we doing? What am I doing? What am I letting him do? "You're certain we're in the correct foyada?" Iriel ventured, when they stopped at midday to eat. He knew Julan's answer would be 'yes', regardless of truth, but that was why he'd asked - a desire for reassurance at any price. Every grey, lava-bitten channel snaking down from Red Mountain looked identical to him. "Of course!" Julan, grinning broadly, began indicating landmarks with a stick of scrib jerky. "I've spent my life in these mountains! Those pointed rock spires down there are Airan's Teeth, so this is Yamus bel-Shannarai, the Valley of the Wind. It's obviously the 'teeth of the wind' that stupid riddle was talking about." Ire allowed himself to be reassured. It was true, they were only a couple of hours south-west of the Grazelands, and from there, it was only a few more miles along the coast to the summer location of Julan's mother's camp. To Iriel's relief, Julan had expressed no desire to visit. "I've never heard of any secret shrines to Azura around here," he was saying. "I'd have thought Mother would know about it. But I guess that's why it's secret." He rolled his eyes. "Sheogorath knows why that wise woman had to make it a whole stupid riddle. We passed the test, didn't we? These old women love messing with your head for the attention, but you shouldn't encourage them." "I was just relieved she didn't want to stick needles in me," said Ire. "You can do all the talking, next time. You have a promise of guest rites, after all, it was your choice not to come with me to--" "I know, get off my back!" Julan was still grinning. "I want to have this proof from the cavern, first. Then I'll go to the Urshilaku and show them, explain that I'm the Nerevarine, and you were only helping me." He set his jaw at the distant horizon. "I'll show Mother, too." You could still say something. You could repeat what Zainsubani told you about his father, try to-- He knows! He's heard it and rejected it, so all you'd be doing is telling him you believed the word of a stranger over his! Faith, Ire. You said you were going to have faith in him. Yes, but... ugh! Walk, just walk. The foyada seemed eternal. It ran broadly south, but as the incline increased, it began a slow, fern-frond curl around a huge rock spur. They scrambled uphill through flowering heather, swarming with tiny copper moths that rose like dustclouds as they passed. As the day wore on, Iriel's exhaustion grew, but Julan's optimism remained undentable. "I've been thinking about this guest-rites thing," he said, at one point. "One of the most well-known prophecies is called The Stranger. That's where the famous line about Incarnates comes from: 'many fall, but one remains'. But it also has lines about the tribes welcoming a stranger to their hearth. And guess what? The Velothi word for stranger, hlarmut, can also be translated as guest, and that's the word used in guest rites!" His eyebrows leapt as he beamed into Iriel's impassive face. "So me receiving guest rites might be part of the prophecy! For the first time in forever, I'm making real progress!" Iriel made a noncommittal noise and faked the need to focus on the placement of his feet. I said I wouldn't stand in his way. I said I couldn't protect him by showing him I doubted him. I said I had to trust him, even when he's wrong. Noble sentiments, so idealistic. Bodu saw through that guarshit straight away. What use is any of it, if he's dead? In the afternoon, they climbed above the ashline. Crossed into the high places, where the storms whipped constant torrents of ash from the crater of the volcano. They had goggles from the Urshilaku with shalk-wing lenses and tight leather straps. Ire wrapped his blue silk scarf around his nose and mouth, followed by another less permeable one of soft, grey racerskin. Even Julan was forced to cover his face, though Ire could still hear him humming, whenever the wind dropped. They clambered over piles of scree, and verdant explosions of bittergreen. Sometimes, a gust of wind would catch Iriel unawares, and he'd have to cling to the nearest bristling tendril until Julan rescued him, grateful his netch gauntlets kept the spines out of his skin. Everything is so fragile, so precarious. Any moment, something could tear him from me. Every step we take, a crack could open up between us. Could swallow either of us... or both. We killed an ash vampire, but we almost died a dozen times and it's only going to get worse. Where's the line, Ire? He knows. He stood across it, that night you tried to attack the Council Club. You lecture him about boundaries, but where are yours, now? You always do this. You fuck things up one way, then you overcorrect too far in the other direction. You're not "having faith" in him, you're enabling him. And if you keep going, you're going to watch him die. But what else can I do? In the crags, they passed through a cliff racer nesting ground, empty now the chicks had all fledged. Iriel felt small bones crunch beneath his boots, and forced his gaze upwards, stomach turning. Julan was already bouncing over the top of the next ridge. I don't know how to help you. I've found plenty of ways not to do it. I don't want to mock you, deceive you, lecture you, patronise you, manipulate you, order you, guilt-trip you. I won't have you feel my love as a chain around your wrist, dragging you from your hopes and dreams into cultureless domesticity, like Shani tried to do. Is this all that's left, letting you pull me into the mouth of hell with you? I don't want to watch you die, but if the choice is this, or leaving you to die alone... I owe it to you. I owe it to you to be wrong about staying, instead of wrong about going. "Huh." Julan had stopped, and was scratching his head. The foyada had ended in a narrow clearing, rock faces on all sides. There was no sign of a cavern, or an opening of any sort. "I don't get it." He pushed up his goggles, the cliffs largely shielding them from the ash. "It must be here, but we've checked the entire length of the valley." "Can we rest?" Iriel's bag had slipped from his shoulders, and he looked ready to drop into the ash next to it. Julan nodded, and they settled themselves against the rock face at the foyada's dead end. Ire loosened his scarves, and shook out the ash, until it made him cough so much he stopped. Julan passed Ire the waterskin, and waited while he drank, watching with such intensity, it was all Ire could do not to choke. He settled for spilling it down his chin, and shooting Julan an exasperated glance. Julan returned him a smile of pure affection. "I know this has been hard on you," he told Iriel. "And I don't just mean the climbing, I mean everything. I know I've been hard on you, too, and difficult to live with. I want to apologise, and to say... you don't know how much it means to me, that you're here." Please let a crack in the rock open up, because I want to crawl into it. "I could do this." Ire heard Julan's voice, and dimly felt him cradling his hand, through his gauntlet and haze of impotent despair. "I could actually succeed at my mission! I never felt this way before, never in my whole life. It's amazing, and it's all because of you." Oh. Great. "I never imagined that anyone would do this for me, would share my burden like this. You're so strong, Iya, far more than me, and far more than you realise. I love you so much." Ire knew he couldn't respond without crying, and then having to explain why. And then falling apart completely, begging, drenching Julan in guilt, exchanging all his confidence and devotion for doubt and resentment again, and to achieve what? A temporary victory, at best. He gritted his teeth and looked away, into the rising blush of the sunset, at the lone star appearing over it. Vasa bel-Azura. Viatrix said love and faith were the same thing. That faith let her follow, when reason failed. But... she was talking about a god. What do gods ever have to lose? The mountain groaned, and, as if answer to his prayer, he felt the rock behind him shift. Iriel might have wondered how the liminal boundary operated, without a monk and a pulley, but at that moment, there was nothing in his mind but a sense of hollow inevitability. They walked down the passage hand in hand, a distant, submarine glow luring them into the depths. Julan was vibrating with anticipation, Iriel numbly docile. The cavern that opened around them was a temple. Luminous, numinous, stalactites and stalagmites ringing it like pillars. In the centre, surrounded by green and violet mushrooms that shone like altar candles, was a kneeling female figure, carved from the rock. Julan's eyes were fixed on the statue, his mouth slack. "Azurammu," Ire heard him breathe. Azura's stone eyes were cast down into her lap, where her hands were resting, upturned and open. Towed nearer, Ire saw lichen patterning her skin and moss softening the folds of her robe. Julan clutched convulsively at his arm. "Look!" Iriel followed his gaze. She had worshippers. Around the edges of the cavern, motionless figures were huddled at stiff angles, bent at the knees and neck. "They're bodies!" Julan let go of Iriel, and moved towards the nearest form. "This one's been given full death-honours... more than for a khan, even. Are they heroes, legendary champions? I've never seen soul-bindings this complex." He began going from corpse to corpse, squinting and gasping. Iriel hadn't moved, was still hovering at the centre of the cavern, paralysed by discomfort and dread. The statue loomed over him, all benign expression and benevolent hands. He hated it with every fibre of his being. There was something glinting between the statue's cupped hands. A silver band. He leaned closer. A silver band... with a moon and star on it. He almost shouted to Julan, but stopped himself. Something was bothering him about the ring, and a second later, he realised what. It wasn't enchanted. It was impressive to look at, the six-pointed star nestled into the elegant curve of the crescent moon, but it wasn't magical. Not imbued with any sort of spell, let alone a soul-scanning murdercurse. I could be wrong. Daedra can be subtle, after all, and my judgement isn't what it was. But... I can still sense the arcane, and there's simply nothing here. I can feel the amulets on the corpses across the cavern, but not this ring. Nibani Maesa said that to gain the proof of Nerevar, I had to find the moon and star. But if she knew the cavern was here... why is the ring still here? Why hadn't they already retrieved it, kept it safe? Unless... it's just another sinyesh, a test-thing to retrieve. Iriel stared again at the circle of metal in the statue's hands. How can it be a proof, if it's not magical? She must have known it wasn't magical. That anyone could wear it, and-- He saw a trap. He saw a glittering snare. A manacle, to drain freedom, and replace it with blind, dutiful obedience. "Mephala!" Julan's voice drifted from somewhere behind the statue. "There's even more bodies! And they must be really powerful spirits, the amount of bone charms holding them to this place is... incredible. Iya, I think this place is a tomb for failed Incarnates!" He saw a poisoned chalice. If I'm wrong, and it is cursed somehow, it will kill him instantly. If I'm right, and it isn't, it will cement his confidence, and lock him on his course. Make him the willing dupe of this reborn soul shell game, or whatever it is these wise women are playing at. Either way, it kills him. Quick or slow, it kills him. The stalagmites and stalactites were no longer the pillars of a temple. They were ranks of pointed teeth, ready to snap closed. "What have you found?" Julan was approaching from the back of the cave, and Iriel's pulse hammered against his throat. Too late now to hide it, lose it, pretend it had never existed. He suddenly heard Viatrix, again. 'Some things They did so we might not have to. So we might receive the lesson, without paying the cost.' Iriel picked up the ring. At the flash of silver, Julan's eyes went wide. When he saw what Ire was doing with it, they went wider still. "No," he said hoarsely, beginning to run, catching his shoulder on a stalactite, forcing past it. "STOP!!" This time, I chose it. I betrayed him with both eyes open. The Moon-and-Star slid past Ire's knuckle, and settled around the base of his left middle finger. And nothing happened. There. I was right. I know it'll hurt, to find it was all meaningless. That he'll be disappointed it's not the proof he wanted, that it's been nothing but a huge set-up. At best, he'll be furious with me for taking the risk. At worst, he'll despise me forever, for sabotaging his destiny, and he'll have the right. But at least he might live to do it. Ire began releasing the breath he'd been holding. Then he saw Julan's face, and it froze in his chest. Julan came towards him. Silently, slowly as if underwater, his eyes fixed on the ring on Iriel's hand. When he reached it, he stopped. Took Ire's hand in his, gently, reverently. He ran his fingers along Iriel's knuckle, then across the ring. Then down the length of Ire's finger, and off. Iriel couldn't speak, but when Julan looked up, their eyes met. There was no trace of anger in Julan's face. Only something of the condemned man, in the split second after the trapdoor opens, and before the noose pulls tight. He nodded slowly. He squeezed Iriel's fingers. Then he ran from the cave. "WAIT!!" Ire's self-possession returned, as Julan reached the cavern entrance. Stumbling down the tunnel after him, Ire saw the stone door begin to grind downwards. He launched himself towards the shrinking wedge of rose-gold light. "COME BACK YOU IDIOT IT'S NOT ENCH--!" The rock wall descended the last few feet just as Iriel hit it face-first. next: 187: mother previous: 185: courage beginning: 1: numb

[nurseynurse]

(1. This is almost a week late and I’m ?? so sorry 2. This went in a much less funny and much more angsty/fluffy direction than I had anticipated I’m so so sorry……and without further ado “bro…that’s so…not cool…” + holsom for @checkplease-insanity !!)

Ransom rubs his eyes and check his phone for the time. 3:47. He sighs loudly, dramatically, even though he knows there’s no one home to appreciate his theatrics. He’s been working on a paper for his molecular biology class and he thinks, with full honesty, that he’s ready to die. He doesn’t care if graduation is a month away, he can feel death at his heels and he feels strangely at ease as he imagines his paper swallow him whole.

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.” Ransom jumps as he hears the front door slam and Holster’s voice float up the stairs. “Mom–mom, fuck.” There’s a thud that Ransom recognizes as Holster’s gym bag and then the strangely light patter of his footsteps up the stairs. “You can’t do that!” Ransom watches, frozen, as Holster stalks into the attic, a scowl on his face, cheeks redder than he had ever seen them, with his phone jammed tight against his ear. A moment later, Holster’s eyes slip closed, his eyebrows knitting together. “Fine,” he says quietly, firmly, into his phone and hangs up angrily, throwing it onto his bed. He collapses next to it.

“Uh.” Ransom starts, unsure exactly what to say. He’s met Judy, he loves Judy, hell, Holster loves Judy. Ransom knows Holster would do anything for his mom and, in the four years he has known Holster, Ransom has never heard him fight with her. Holster looks at him wearily.

“My mom.” He says by way of explanation. Ransom sighs.

“Yeah, I know.” He says and stands up from his desk to sit down next to Holster. “Do you wanna talk about it.” Holster sighs loudly and flops over so that he’s on his back.

“My dad.” Holster responds, unconsciously mimicking himself, and Ransom absolutely freezes. He had heard about Holster’s father, maybe, a grand total of five times and none of those times had been particularly positive. Holster sighs again, his body shaking with it and Ransom watches as an involuntary tremor rushes through the blond man’s neck. “It’s not even a big deal, bro, like. Really.” Ransom lies down next to him, shoves his shoulder tight against Holster’s. “My dad wasn’t really around when I was a kid, you know? He finally bounced when I was fourteen and I haven’t heard from him since. My mom took it really hard. I, uh, I don’t know, I didn’t? It was better without him. Better for me, better for my sisters, better for my mom, even though she probably didn’t think so.” Holster sighs again, small and defeated. “He came over last week, I guess, and he wants my mom back. And he wants to see me.” He finishes flatly and for one of the first times since they became best friends, Ransom isn’t sure what to say.

“Fuck. Bro…that’s so…not cool.” He says lamely but Holster laughs, loud and full, his shoulders shaking and erupting the bunk bed with tremors. Ransom guesses he did something right when Holster punches him in the shoulder lightly.

“Fuck, yeah, it’s not cool.” He says bitingly, but he’s still smiling.

“Fuck that guy, you know?” Ransom continues quickly and Holster starts to sit up. “He hasn’t been around for twelve years and now he wants back in your life? Fuck that, you deserve better than that.” Holster is nodding, mouth right as if he wants to agree but–

“My mom wants to give him a chance.” He says conspiratorially, as if they’re best friends at a sleepover–which, they kind of are, every night, all the time, if Ransom really thinks about it, and it’s kind of awesome–and Ransom can tell that he’s trying to brush it off himself now.

“And how do you feel about that?” Ransom asks, knowing it would sound belittling aimed towards anyone else. It was one of the things Holster would ask him once he would come out of a panic attack, carefully helping him figure out what made him spiral and how to avoid it.

“She deserves better.” He says quietly and Ransom hears a million different things. When he boils it down, Holster’s mom deserves the world, not some deadbeat who deserted her when she most needed him.

“Adam,” Ransom sighs, leaning in to tuck Holster under his shoulder. It works, because they’re lying down, and Holster curls into him compliantly. Holster just nods and Ransom can feel his mind racing. Holster needs to decompress, he knows, and reaches for his laptop.

An episode and a half of Community later–Holster’s been on a kick lately and Ransom isn’t going to complain if he gets to watch something that doesn’t have Alec Baldwin in it–and Holster leans out of Ransom’s hold to stretch. Ransom mourns the warmth, the weight, but relishes in watching Holster’s arms move. He has a thing for Holster’s arms. It’s not a big deal. Finally, he fixes Ransom with a look.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. Yes, I will talk to my mom again soon. Yes, I do want pie.” He says and Ransom breathes a laugh. They head downstairs and dig through the fridge to find a stack of Tupperware filled with apple, pecan, and, despite the season, pumpkin pie. Holster, as always, goes for the latter. It’s while ruminating on the season that Ransom remembers that he’s graduating in a month. He’s moving to Washington in less than three months. He's moving away from Holster in less than three months. Ransom freezes, hand poised on the little plastic lip of the apple pie lid. Holster’s eyebrows slowly rise. Ransom makes a split second decision and mentions something other than graduation.

“How’s job hunting going?” Ransom asks, instead, flipping off the lid. Holster looks nervous

“Um.” He says, scooping up the Tupperware with Ransom’s pie in one hand and Holster’s in the other as he turns back towards the staircase.

“Um?” Ransom says derisively, chasing after his friend. Holster’s mouth is twisted, eyebrows knotted. “What?”

“Um…” Holster repeats as they re-enter the attic.

“Holster.” Holster places the pie onto his desk, delicately.

“Justin.” He pleads. Ransom’s eyebrows rise because…that tone of voice is too fucking serious considering Ransom just asked about jobs. “Just. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Okay.” Ransom urges, trying to soften his eyes, his posture. Holster relaxes, minutely.

“I’m moving to Washington,” he says and Ransom can feel his jaw drop.

“Why didn’t you–” he starts at a shout but is broken off by the look on Holster’s face.

“I’m gonna, uh, be playing hockey.” Ransom knows his mouth is gaping now, his eyes bugging out.

“Why did you tell me? What the fuck! You signed? With the Schooners? What the fuck, bro!” He exclaims, taking a step towards Holster, whose hands are tight against his desk.

“It’s a new thing. I was, uh, waiting for the right moment.” Ransom doesn’t want to admit how stung he is that Holster kept it from him that he was even planning on signing this year; he knew it was a possibility, considering he did juniors before college and he was fucking good at hockey and, as much as he said he liked the idea of international economics, Ransom could tell how much he…didn’t. So, yeah, Ransom could put two and two together, but he had hoped Holster would have discussed it with him first, like a good fucking best friend.

But now.

Now Holster is looking at him with wide blue eyes, shocked as he registers how angry Ransom is. Ransom takes a breath.

“That’s fuckin’ ‘swawesome, dude.” He says carefully and wraps his arms around Holster. Holster melts.

“Shit, I though you were, like, pissed at me. I thought you were gonna snap.” Ransom punches him in the shoulder.

“I am pissed at you. But it doesn’t mean I’m not totally fucking stoked on the fact that my BFF is gonna be in the NHL and live in the same city as me.” Holster breathes a laugh. “Why’d you not tell me, though?” Holster sighs.

“I did all those camps last summer. I didn’t hide it, exactly, I just…didn’t want to talk about it, get anyone’s hopes up, get my hopes up.” Holster says with a shrug before reaching over and grabbing their pies. He hands it to Ransom, a peace offering. Ransom punches him on the shoulder again but takes the pie, wraps a hand around Holster’s forearm, and pulls him back to the nest of blankets and television sitcoms they made under the bunk bed.

“Hey, Adam?” Ransom asks a short while later. Holster looks up at him, sleepy and confused, his glasses a little crooked.

“Hm?” Holster adjusts his shoulders so that he’s less curled against Ransom and more eye level with him.

“When we graduate, um…” Ransom pauses. He wants to ask it, ask if Holster feels the same way around Ransom as he felt around Holster: absolutely safe and complete. He wants to ask if Holster can feel the energy that buzzes between them when they’re pressed against each other, some immovable force that makes Ransom feel simultaneously warm, like his skin is melting and his bones are ready to burst, and more capable–stronger, more sure of himself, like he could do anything. Ransom is comfortable in the life they’ve built for each other, for themselves, but he knows it’s more than just best friends, more than just the eerie in-syncness that defense partners shared.

“What?” Holster asks, and now he’s propped up on one arm, hand in his disheveled hair as he peers at Ransom with soft blue eyes like weathered sea glass.

“When we move out, we should get a dog.” He says finally. It’s not exactly what he wanted to ask, but it feels like a leap–some kind of commitment–all the same. Holster’s eyes light up.

“Oh, fuck yeah, dude. As soon as we finish painting the walls, we’re gonna get a puppy. It’s gonna be ‘swawesome.” Holster mumbles, collapsing back against Ransom and oh, how incredibly domestic painting the walls is. Ransom sighs, strangely relieved. Ransom is in love with his best friend and, although it’s never been said out loud, or made blatantly apparent, Ransom feels like it’s only a matter of time until Holster realizes. Ransom doesn’t think Holster will mind, all that much, as the blond presses his nose to the column of Ransom’s throat, presses his shoulder back into Ransom’s chest, presses himself into a future that Ransom would never be able to imagine without him.