#he comes trotting over when you say 'here boy! come here shadow' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

surielstea · 4 days

Text

Too Sweet

Based on this request

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader faces the mating bond with an unrelenting Eris

4.1k words

The mating bond. It was an unmistakable notion, and I have it.

Ever since I was a girl I dreamed of my mate sweeping me off my feet and riding off into the sunset. I've been all over Prythian, from summer to winter, but, nothing.

Except now I have the mating bond, a golden string so thin I thought it might snap at any second. I have it, but not with anyone from Summer or Winter, nowhere exotic or far away, but here. My golden string connected to the newly crowned High Lord, the very embodiment of Autumn.

I've known Eris for years, ever since my family came into nobility I was hurled into golden ballrooms and etiquette classes I had no desire to be in.

All the other girls stared at me like I was too poor, too odd. And all of the boys, well no one wants to be friends with a boy from the Autumn Court.

But when I met Lucien Vanserra everything changed. My father was delighted to hear I was becoming close with the High Lord's son, often encouraging me to further get to know the family, and so I did, I even met the esteemed High Lord but he wasn't much to prattle on about.

But the Heir? Oh gods, to say I had a crush was an understatement. I loved Lucien and all but, his brother sure was the highlight of visiting the Forest House.

Any girl would've fallen for the cooler, older brother— but it was never just a crush, it was always something more, something I was never able to explain and now I know why. Soul bound, cauldron fated, mates.

Eris knew, he's known for a while now, and I could feel it.

The male was sitting on the sofa next to Lucien while I sat on the floor petting one of the Shadow Hounds. He and Lucien were just talking about anything, laughing with each other like the boys they never got to be. But Beron's dead and the new High Lord could do whatever he wanted. Including being happy.

Eris was playing with a two-month-old puppy, the dog prancing across Eris's lap and I don't know why but that was it, that's what made the bond snap.

I could physically see the golden string bridging between us, I reached for it and as soon as my fingertips came to contact with it he jolted upward, head whipping towards me with concern laced in his gaze. The puppy looks up at him expectantly, cocking his head in confusion as to why he stopped playing with him.

"You alright?" Lucien said, hand coming to his brother's shoulder. Eris shutters at the contact but his eyes don't leave mine. He arched his brow a fraction, silently asking what the hell it was that I just did to him. I touch the string again and a shiver goes down my spine. "I'm fine," Eris settled back into the couch. "It's cold in here, is all," Eris mutters but that's a lie, it was burning hot in the sitting room. The two men in front of me were like furnaces, not to mention the blazing fire in the hearth.

"I'm going to bed," I get up, Lucien's eyes follow me but Eris doesn't look. "You're packed to leave in the morning?" He asks and I nod. We've been visiting Autumn for more than a week now, originally coming down to celebrate Eris's coronation but that turned into a vacation quickly, but now I feel I've overstayed my welcome. "Mhm," I nod.

"You should get some sleep too, we've got a long trip home," I say and he nods. "Don't worry so much about me," He waves me off and I roll my eyes, feigning casualty when my stomach is twisting itself into knots impossible to untangle. "Night Lu," I press a kiss to the top of his head and he smiles up at me. "Night, Eris," I glance at him and he simply nods, not saying anything, barely looking at me.

I stifle a sigh and turn on my heel, walking down the hall towards my bedroom.

Haco, Eris's leading shadow hound followed me to my bedroom, trotting after me, and once I turn to close the door he sits in the doorway, looking up at me with pleading eyes. I huff and open the door wider. I swear the hound smiles as he welcomes himself into my bedroom.

I flop down onto my large bed with a curse. This mattress was too large for one person, something that was meant to be shared between lovers. "C'mere," I pat the comforter, calling Haco up. He jumps onto the bed, his tail swishing in happiness as I scratch behind his ears. He walks in a circle before settling down at my side, curling into a ball with his head facing the door, like he's guarding me from any intruders.

"Who's a good boy?" I hum and his ears lift at the tone of my voice, turning his head to look at me. "Tell that owner of yours he needs to figure himself out," I say, using the dog as my therapist. The hound looks at me with sad eyes then chuffs and rests his chin down onto my open palm. I sadly smile at the dog, kissing him on the head before laying beside him.

Sleep doesn't come easy that night, in fact, it doesn't come at all. I listened to the muffled voices from down the hall until the familiar sound of Lucien's footsteps passed my door and his door shut, turning in for the night.

Eris's room was on the other side of the large house, the High Lord's room. I look at the dog next to me, a light snore coming from his snout. I smile and press a kiss to his nose. He opens his eyes sleepily, looking at me expectantly as I slide off of my mattress. "I'll be back, stay," I tell him, and Haco whines with a wag of his tail. "Stay," I stress and if he was a human he'd be rolling his eyes. He lays his head down, signaling his defeat. I smile in victory then slip out of my room, light on my feet as I pad down the hall and into the kitchen.

I thank the gods that the two Vanserra brothers finally left the room, I've been parched for a glass of water since I had first gotten into bed.

I pour myself a glass and drink deeply from it, allowing the cold water to slip down my dry throat. Once I finish the glass I go to put it in the sink but as I do a basket of pears catches my attention. Eris and I had gone to the orchards on horses and picked them this morning while Lucien slept in. I freeze mid-step, reminded of how mates accept the bond, how it'd be so easy to offer Eris food and have that happily ever after I've wanted since I was a girl. I sigh and put the glass in the sink, ignoring the pears and walking past them, towards my room.

But my movements are slow like I don't quite want to leave the freshly harvested fruit behind.

I weigh the pros and cons in the middle of the hallway. The worst that would happen is he didn't accept it and I'm crushed forever, but the 'what if?' Thoughts killed me. Because what if he does want it, and just ignores it because he knows I hate this court? What if he does want it and is just afraid I don't?

I sigh, this was shredding me into pieces and I've only been enduring the bond for a few hours. Gods know how long he's known. I spin on my heel and march back towards the basket of pears. If he doesn't accept it then that's fine, I don't want to force him into anything. But I needed to know. I was sick of this miscommunication, I needed closure and this is the best way to get it.

I washed the ripest pear I could find, it smelled the sweetest and yielded when I put pressure on its neck. I debated cutting the pear into slices but decided that'd take too long and I was already trying to talk myself out of my plans.

I stalk down the opposite hall, away from my room. Mapping my way through the sprawling complex of the forest house until I stand in front of a large wooden door, my brows creasing as I realize he might already be asleep.

I think to turn away and do this in the morning instead but before I can even take a step back, Haco scratches at the door with his paw. I didn't even realize the hound was there. Anxiety bubbles up in the pit of my stomach as dread consumes me and I feel my throat get dry all over again. I don't get the chance to flee before the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Eris with a crystal glass filled with an unmistakable amber liquid. I freeze in place. His eyes pin to mine as if he's shocked to see me.

The hound that's caused all of this pads away, down the hall back towards my bedroom like his work is done.

"I thought you were going to sleep?" He tilts his head. "I am— I was," I correct, looking down at the pear in my hand and then back up to him. Suddenly I felt helpless. Like a bunny in the presence of a fox. Utterly vulnerable and far too heedless. "I wanted to give this to you," I held the fruit out, he stared at it for a moment with those piercing golden eyes, but he didn't take it. "A pear?" He tilts his head dumbly as if he's never seen the food before. I swallow thickly. "Eris, please," I say. I didn't want to play these games, I wanted him to accept the bond, want him to accept me.

"I know you know, so just..." My voice trails off as I thrust the pear out towards him and he shakes his head no, taking a step back and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. "Eris, please," I repeat, brows creased as I stare at him with pure devotion. "You don't want this, don't want me," He denies. "I've wanted this since I was nineteen," I reason with him and his eyes widen a fraction in disbelief. "You wouldn't be happy with me, I want you to be happy," He argues and now it was my turn to shake my head, my hand dropping as I took a step into his office.

"I'm cruel and bitter, you don't want to live with that," He stresses and I take another step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his as I reach up and cup his jaw. "I've seen every part of you, I want every part," I reassure but he backs away. "Fawn, you don't understand I can't tie you down, you hate this Court and yet I'm the High Lord," He explains. "If we're mated you'd have to live here, I won't strip you of your freedom, I can't do it," He refuses and my frown deepens.

"I hated it here when Beron was in power, but now there's nothing I have to worry about," I argue and his expression matches mine, clearly distraught about the situation. "I'm standing here offering you food, I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't exactly what I wanted, so eat," I hold the fruit up to his mouth but he catches my wrist, eyes staying on me. "You're too sweet," He sighs but my expression doesn't waver, eyes urging him to eat.

His stare doesn't leave mine as he leans forward and bites into the sugary fruit, the juice of the pear drips from the corner of his mouth and down his jaw, and maybe it was the low lighting, or The Frenzy already setting in, but suddenly I couldn't control my arousal as it spiked.

"You sure this is what you want?" He whispers and I wrap my arms around his neck, chest pressing to his as I crash my lips onto his it was slow and soothing and everything I've ever dreamed of. "There's no going back now," I uttered breathlessly onto his lips. "But yes, this is exactly what I want," I confess and a small smile curves over his lips before placing them right back onto mine. The gentle, chaste kiss quickly morphed into something hungrier and lust-filled. His large, veiny hands roamed down the small of my back, past the curve of my ass and to my thighs. I jump up and he catches me with ease, my legs wrapping around him as I get impossibly closer.

His mouth on mine made every part of me electric. He walks forward until my back is pinned against the wall. He leaves my lips and begins kissing down the column of my throat, his kisses sloppy and feverish and everything I ever wanted. He finds that sensitive spot at my neck and sucks hard.

My head tilts back at the sensation, I whine and he nips at the skin, his tongue quickly gliding over the area, massaging the irritated area and soothing it. "Eris," I sigh out and he sucks harder. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you moan my name," He grunts out and his voice, gods the feeling between my legs was growing unbearable.

"I need you, now," I beg. "Please, Eris," I whine and a foxlike smile spreads over his features, his sharp teeth against my neck. "M'sorry baby but I need to take this slow or I'll hurt you," He hums against my burning hot skin. But the arousal, it was too much, too thick between us, I needed him. I rolled my hips onto his abdomen in a needy attempt for friction.

"I don't care, please, Eris," I whimper and his smile only widens. "I want every part of you, remember?" I sigh. "So show me when you’re feral, Eris," I say, pecking up his jaw. The room suddenly becomes ten times hotter as a fire bursts into flames in the furnace.

He didn't reply but instead pushed off the door and carried me towards the large bed.

The mattress was soft against my back as he laid me down with a delicate touch. My legs immediately spread to either side of him, the ache at my core growing to become an inextinguishable fire.

"Gods, you were made for me," He hums, leaning over me. I arch toward him because I was, in fact, made for him. Cauldron fated since the beginning, souls intertwined by birth. "And you, for me," I smile without hesitance as I pull him down by the back of his neck to my lips, sealing my mouth over his.

I hook a leg around his thigh and use all my weight to flip us over, my chest pressed into him as he lands on his back, head on the pillow as an amused smile grows across his features. I grin dreamily and begin to kiss down his jaw, leaving a trail to his neck while his touch roams every inch of me, hands snaking beneath my nightgown and hiking the thin silk up higher.

I grind down onto his hard cock and he grunts in reply, gritting his teeth at the pleasurable feeling. He gets frustrated with the strings of my delicate dress and simply tears it in two, large, strong hands stripping me from the material and leaving me completely bare before him, aside from my remaining undergarments. He curses and grips my breast, causing me to moan and grind down harder onto his member. He massaged my breast with calloused fingertips as I worked at the ties of his pants, needing him now.

He was quick to help me out, stripping me from my bra and then, like the dress, ripping off my panties.

A moment later we're both entirely bare.

My lips pressed to his yet again because he tasted like he smelled, cinnamon and a certain spice that could only be replicated with a mix of smoke and clove. His tongue ran over mine, tasting every exposed inch of me like I was as sweet as honey. I lift onto my knees and align myself with his throbbing cock, he grunts, pulling away from my mouth. "Baby, you can't," He pants in a soft tone. "It'll be too much you need to be prepped," He explains and I all but whine out my reply, "I can, please Eris I'll be so good for you."

"You gonna finish what you started?" His brow arched up the slightest in question and I nod with glossed over eyes. He then grips my hips and pushes me down, his cock splitting me in two as he manages to stuff half of him inside of me. I scream out from the painful pleasure, nails scratching down his chest at the intense feeling of his wide, thick cock spreading me out, my sensitive walls forming around him as I slowly sink myself further down, letting gravity do most of the work until I eventually reach the base of him.

Tears well in my eyes at how gods dammed big he was, I swore I could feel him between my ribs. I stifle a deep breath and slowly begin to grind down, my legs jolting occasionally at the stimulation. His hands roamed from my breasts to my thighs, rough skin brushing over every part of me for pleasure alone and I was drunk on it.

I began moving faster, lifting and driving my hips over his while he stared up at me with pure lust. "S'too big," I rasp out, and a conniving smirk cuts across his features. "My poor girl, can only think about my cock hm?" He tilts his head and all I can do is nod, agreeing just in case he'd make me stop if I didn't. My panting becomes more and more irregular, breathless moans escaping me every time the head of his cock kisses that intense, sensitive spot of my cervix. By the Mother, he's so fucking huge.

A knot bundles at the edge of my stomach, twining itself tighter and tighter as I rut myself over him.

His hand drifts to my ass, gripping it tightly in one of his hands while the other does the same to my hip. "Fuck, you're doing so well riding me baby," He praises and my cheeks heat, from both the heat of the room and the vulnerability of all of this. Baring my very soul to him, giving him my body, him, my mate.

"Faster baby," He orders, and I do as he says to the best of my abilities, he slaps my ass, hard, and I release an unearthly and lewd sound at the feeling, making me go double the speed. "That's it, so good for me," He commends and a dazed smile washes over my features, the knot growing stronger and harder to ignore.

"M’close, Eris," I warn and he nods. "It's okay, me too baby," He reassured and right on queue he twitches inside of me, the slight curve of his cock pressing into my most sensitive place deliciously. His hand navigates all the way up to my neck, wrapping around the back of it then pulling me down to his lips, softly pressing my mouth into his as I continue to spear myself atop him, breasts bouncing at the action as he continued to grip one of them.

"Cum on my cock," He orders, pulling away as he bit down on my lower lip and I whimper, tears now streaming onto my cheeks. My brows crease as my entire body shivers and I feel an electric surge race through me, finally reaching that orgasmic high, subconsciously clenching around him at the sensation and involuntarily making him find his own release. He grunted out as I screamed his name, nails marking lines down his chest as I milk his cock, his warm seed pumping inside of me as the fire in the hearth roared with intensity.

The room is filled with heavy panting and soft groaning as we both come down from our shared high, my legs shaking and my head dipping into his shoulder.

"Fuck, you did so good baby," He sighs out, going to move me off of him but I shake my head and cling to his chest, his member still nestled deep inside of me, holding his cum in. "Not yet," I whispered tiredly. "Wanna stay like this," I hum and his arms wrap tightly around my waist, my chest pressed to his as the fire slowly dwindles. "You're so perfect," He presses a hard kiss to the crown of my head and I furrow deeper into his shoulder.

"My sweet girl," He hums and the new name has my chest blooming in warmth.

I shift my hips, his cock brushing against my sensitive walls and making me shiver. Only then did his member begin to harden again, and I knew then that with his Fae endurance and my arousal, that it was going to be a long night.

———

"Eris I know she's in there open up!" Lucien calls through the door as I stir from my sleep, slowly waking up from my short-lived sleep. "You woke her up, asshole!" Eris shouts back, holding me close to his chest as if Lucien was about to burst in through the High Lord's door at any moment.

"Then tell her we have to leave," Lucien demands through the door as I peek my eyes open. "You couldn't pry her from my dead body," Eris retorts and I can practically see Lucien rolling his eyes on the other side of that door. "Eris maybe I should go—" I don't even get to finish my sentence before he pulls me into him, my face smushed into his shoulder.

"Oh my sweet girl, you're foolish to think you're leaving my side for the rest of the week," He hums and I pull away from his shoulder and look up at him. "I was going to say maybe I should go tell him I'm not coming with," I say, planning on staying at his side for more than just a week. "Oh, okay," He murmurs, arms loosening from my waist and I giggle, getting out of the bed and pulling Eris' shirt from the desk chair and sliding it over my frame so I was decently covered before facing Lucien.

Before I can open the door, my mate appears behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist possessively. I hold back a scoff and swing the door open, meeting a very disgruntled Lucien with my packed bag in his arms.

"I'm not coming," I say blankly and he matches my stare. "I know," He hands me my bag and I thank him with a wide smile. Eris' arms tighten at the action, his head dipping down into my shoulder as he begins to trail kisses up my neck.

"This, it's weird," He gestures to us and I giggle, hand coming up to the nape of Eris's neck. "Alright, have fun lovebirds," Lucien knocks on the wood of the doorframe as a farewell, then he leans in to place a kiss on the crown of my head like he does every time we bid each other a farewell but he freezes as a low growl sounds from the bottom of the High Lord's throat.

"Right, see you soon, hopefully," He says then walks down the hall, Eris quickly shuts the door once he's gone then pushes me up against it, my cheek pressed to the cold wood as his hardened member presses against my ass. "You look so cute in my clothes," He purrs, kissing up my jaw to my ear, nipping at my lobe, and making me curse in pleasure. I knew then it was going to be a long, yet enjoyable week.

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bordysbae · 11 months

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👋👋fantilli!sister x luke hughes w 10. “i am not getting in that car with you, are you crazy?”11. “do you ever stop complaining?” “you ever think that if you stopped being an idiot i wouldn’t need to complain?”12. “why do you hate me?” “you think i hate you?”

“frenemies”

luke hughes x fantilli!sister

living in both of your brother’s shadows is basically the role you’ve had throughout all of your life. being adam’s twin sister just makes things even worse. if adam needs to move away for hockey, you have to come with. your parents can’t dare to send their superstar away without following him.

luca commited to michigan first, but when you and adam both committed, you knew your life was basically over. all the attention would be on the d1 athletes rather than the regular college student, and you were right. but when you met luke hughes, your whole life flipped. the 19 year old boy immediately caught your eye, and he gives you the most attention out of all of your brothers teammates. the only problem is that he teases you non stop, and not in a flirty way.

—

as you’re walking through the dorm hallway headed towards your brothers shared dorm, you notice the tall curly haired boy walking towards you. “ah if it isn’t adam and luca fantilli’s shadow!” he teases. you just roll your eyes at the boy and your feet come to a slow stop. “nice to see you too, jack and quinn’s shadow,” you sarcastically grin.

“party tonight, you coming?” he asks, pulling out his phone to look at his notifications instead of looking at you as you speak. “uhh, i guess so,” you shrug.

“alright sick! see you later then, adam’s twin!” he winks before walking off. the annoyed scoff that leaves your mouth contradicts how that wink effected you. your heart rate increases and your cheeks run hot. you walk towards the door of adam and luca’s dorm, and you don’t even knock before pushing it wide open and storming in.

“y/n what if we were naked!” adam shrieks, but you just let out a loud huff before jumping on his bed and burying your face in his pillows. he sends luca a concerned look, and moves one of the pillows so he can see you. “are you okay y/n?” adam asks and luca walks over to the bed as well. “what’s wrong?” luca asks, but you just groan.

you know you can’t tell them that you like their teammate, so you come up with a half lie.

“just luke being luke,” you roll your eyes before sitting up on the bed. you rest your back against the wall; now facing towards the boys who are standing next to the bed. they give you a pitiful smile, since they know luke can be a little harsh on the teasing comments. “we’re sorry about him y/n. do you want us to talk to him?” adam asks.

“no! that’ll just make it worse! but anyways, are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

“nah, we both have a lot of homework to do,” luca chimes in. you let out a little chuckle before mumbling, “yeah welcome to my world.”

“what’d you say?” luca asks, but you just shake it off and he doesn’t ask again. “alright well, i just came here to grab a hoodie so i’ll get outta your hair,” you exclaim before hopping off of adam’s bed and trotting towards their closet. “where are you going that you need a hoodie?” adam asks. “i’m going to the grocery store. need anything?” you ask, as you pull one of adam’s team canada hoodies over your head. “can we come?” adam and luca excitedly ask, and you let out a chuckle with a nod.

as you’re walking down the isles grabbing snacks for your dorm, you notice a familiar face walking towards you once again. “luke,” you blatantly state. he gives you a devilish grin before leaning down to reach your ear, “cant even go shopping on your own? you really are their shadow,” he chuckles.

“yeah whatever luke,” you scoff as you walk towards the register, with adam and luca trailing behind. you look back at luke and he just gives you a smile. a smile that should not be effecting you like this. your cheeks run hot and you immediately turn your head away.

—

you and your roommate make the walk to the frat, and immediately a strong smell of alcohol sends your senses into alert as you step inside. before you even realize it, you’re four shots in and now drinking a mix of god knows what.

“y/n, are you okay?” a familiar male voice asks from behind you. you turn around and see luke with a concerned look on his face. “whatttt i’m fine hughesy!” you shout, very clearly drunk.

“uh yeah, okay. i’m getting you an uber and taking you to your dorm, are you here with anyone?” he asks, holding your body upright to prevent you from falling.

“ummm my roommate, but i think she went upstairs with one of the frat bros, so she’ll be fine. but lukey, i don’t wanna leave!” you say, and immediately luke’s cheeks heat up at your new nickname for him. “yeah no, you’re going back to your dorm. i already called an uber, cmon,” he states as he takes you outside.

you both sit on the steps as you wait for the uber to arrive, and when it does you immediately realize what’s going on. luke slides into the backseat before you, and you gasp, “i’m not getting into the car with you! are you crazy?!”

“jesus y/n, do you ever stop complaining?” luke scoffs as he practically drags your drunk-self into the car. “maybe if you stopped being such an idiot i wouldn’t have to complain!” you roll your eyes as you struggle to buckle the seatbelt. luke’s hand pushes yours away before he helps you buckle in.

most of the ride is quiet, but when the uber gets stopped in traffic you’re basically forced to talk to luke. you’re drunk, so the first words that come out are ones you’ve been deathly afraid to ask. “why do you hate me, luke?”

his head turns from the window to look at you, “you think i hate you?”

“well yeah, why else would you be so rude to me! sure as hell isn’t flirting.”

“i mean yeah i’m not trying to flirt with you.. but i do like you, y/n. that’s why i’m rude to you. it’s because i cant let you like me back, your brothers would actually kill me! they made you a boundary for the team, but i can’t help liking you. you’re pretty, you’re sweet, and you don’t even hate me after all the shit i’ve done to you,” luke rambles.

“how do you know i don’t hate you?” you tease. “because your cheeks wouldn’t be as pink as they are,” luke smirks and you immediately get embarrassed and hide your face. luke lets out a little chuckle, and suddenly his lips find their way on yours, and they practically melt together. your heart is beating out of your chest but even if your brothers are mad, at least you got what you’ve been dying for.

a kiss from luke hughes, and an answer as to why he teases you so much.

—

little self promo but go check out my 500 celly and feel free to request something! <3

#luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey #adam fantilli #luca fantilli

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apuckishwit · 1 year

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Steddie, “You’ll look so pretty in this, sweetheart.” *coughs awkwardly* You can make it dark if you want.

Ummmm...okay, let me preface this by saying you DID ask for dark.

Warning for Kas!Eddie, captivity, and a little bit of light torture. Ummm. Yeah. Love you!

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie sings out, snickering to himself as he always does. He doesn’t care what Steve thinks, that’s never not going to be hilarious. He carefully balances the grocery bags in his arms as he toes off his boots by the front door. Radagast comes bounding into the foyer at the sound of his voice, and he manages to maneuver both bags into one arm so he can lean down and pat his head. Radagast nips at his fingers playfully bounding back and forth between Eddie and the entrance to the living room. “Stevie?” he calls.

“Yeah, in here,” Steve calls back, his voice thick with sleep. Eddie glances at the big grandfather clock that sits in the foyer, frowning to himself. It’s a bit late for an afternoon nap…he hopes his boy isn’t feeling sick.

He moves through to the kitchen, setting the bags down on the island, Mithrandir now trotting in from the living room to greet him as well. He bends down to give Mith a good, thorough scratching, laughing when he immediately rolls over to give Eddie access to his belly. “Who’s a good boy? Have you been taking care of Mommy for me today? Yeah? Yeah?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, stop calling me that thing’s mother,” Steve says from behind him. He turns to find his boy leaning tiredly against the kitchen doorway, Radagast hovering at his side. He’s wrapped in the quilt from their bed, still in the clothes he slept in last night.

“Aw, but they love you so much, baby!” Eddie says, springing up to stride forward and gather Steve into his arms. His boy goes willingly, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder and turning his face up slightly so Eddie can pepper him with kisses. He’s pale, even in the less-than-stellar light from the camping lanterns they have set up on the counters, bruise dark shadows under his eyes despite having obviously slept most of the day away. “Are you feeling okay?” Eddie asks, planting a gentle kiss on Steve’s forehead. His skin is warm under Eddie’s lips, but that’s not really unusual.

“Just tired,” Steve mumbles, resting more of his weight on Eddie as Eddie tsks softly, sways him back and forth a bit.

“What did you eat today? Did you drink any of the water bottles?”

There was a time when Steve would have bristled at being questioned like a child who can’t be trusted not to trade the contents of their lunchbox for cookies and chips in the cafeteria, but now he just sighs and nods. Finally understanding that Eddie just wants to take care of him. Finally accepting that care. It’s a heady thing, especially given the amount of work it’s taken to get to that point. “Had the last of the powdered eggs for breakfast. Peanut butter sandwich for lunch. And yes, I drank two of the water bottles.”

Eddie nods along, kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth when he falls silent again. He wishes Steve would eat more—Eddie worries about his protein and iron levels—but it’s hard to work up an appetite for the kind of rations that are available in and around Hawkins, now. A mischievous smile worms its way across Eddie’s mouth—hopefully his surprise will perk his baby up a little.

“Hey guess what?” he asks, letting go of Steve’s waist. Steve straightens immediately, leaning back against the doorway.

“What?” he asks, his voice turning wary when he catches sight of Eddie’s expression. Eddie bounces on his toes a little.

“There was a new supply drop in the camp right outside the west gate. Not a whole lot of variety, but I got you some chicken soup, a neat little water filter, whole bunch of MRE’s…I know they suck, but at least they store easy. Annnnnd…” With a flourish, he pulls a small package clumsily wrapped in a newspaper comics page. “Happy six months!”

Steve swallows, staring at the package. “Has it been six months already?” he asks softly.

“Hard to believe, huh?”

“I, uh, I don’t have anything for you…” Steve trails off, a little helplessly, and Eddie tsks again. He reaches up to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, cupping his cheek and leaning forward to kiss him soundly.

“You stayed with me. You don’t have to give me presents, baby. You’re here.” Steve swallows again and gives a jerky nod. Eddie runs his thumb over his boy’s lips before bouncing back to the grocery bags to start unloading his bounty. “Soup okay for dinner? Or do you want to try—” he grabs one of the shiny silver packets of military food, “refried bean burritos?”

“Soup’s…soup’s fine,” Steve says, shuffling over to the island and slumping down onto one of the stools. Poor thing, he really must not be feeling well. Well, hopefully he’ll have a little more energy soon.

Eddie fishes a can opener out of one of the many, many drawers (seriously, who needs a kitchen this big? It blows his mind sometimes, thinking of his boy just rattling around in this big house all by himself for so long) and makes quick work of opening a couple cans of soup. There hasn’t been electricity in Hawkins for months, but Eddie had scrounged up a propane camp stove to just rest on the stovetop. He hums to himself as he heats the soup, moving between the stove and the island to skate his hand down Steve’s back, lift his hand to place a soft kiss on the scabbed-over wounds on the inside of his wrist, draw his boy close and just breathe in the scent of him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

When the soup is hot, he ladles some into a bowl and sets it down in front of his boy with another flourish. “Eat up!” He sinks down onto the stool beside Steve as he starts slowly eating, twining his fingers into the hair at the back of Steve’s neck and just playing with it, content to bask in his boy’s presence for a little while.

Steve’s eyes never leave the newspaper-wrapped package on the island. Curious, Eddie follows his gaze, and sighs when he realizes there’s a spray of blood spatters on the paper that he missed. “Ah, shit. Sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve is silent for a few minutes, just mechanically eating his soup. Finally, though, a small shudder wracks through him. “Did you kill them?” he asks dully. “The soldiers that were making the supply drop?”

Eddie lets his hand span the back of Steve’s neck, his claws coming to rest on the delicate skin just under his ear. He chuckles, leaning over to rest his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “Of course I did, sweetness! It took me and the demogorgons two days to clear out that camp—can’t have them setting operations back up. And hey! Now I won’t have to go foraging for supplies for you for a while.” He tightens his hand in Steve’s hair, pulling his head back so that he can nuzzle at his throat, his tongue flicking out over a pair of the barely-healed puncture wounds that litter his boy’s throat. Steve shakes under his hands, and when Eddie lifts his head, his boy is biting his lips, a sheen of tears in his beautiful, beautiful eyes.

“Hey, hey now, none of that. I’m keeping my promise, sweetheart. None of the kids were with them. I haven’t even seen any of group since you agreed to come stay with me.”

That’s not entirely the truth. He’s run into Nancy Wheeler, Buckley, and Jonathan Byers several times since the confrontation where Henry had Eddie reveal himself and his new…upgrades. The confrontation that had almost cost Dustin and Lucas their lives, the confrontation where Eddie had had the fucking brilliant idea of offering his baby a trade. Safe passage to retreat for their woefully underprepared group in exchange for Steve returning to the heart of Hawkins with Eddie. Staying with him.

Giving himself to him.

But he truly hasn’t had any run-ins with the kids. And Steve doesn’t need to know about the times he’s skirmished with Nancy and Robin, the way they scream at him, demanding to know what he’s done with Steve, where he is, if he’s safe. He’s not a fool. He doesn’t need to give Steve anymore reasons to hope. To try and find a way to escape. To try and leave him.

Bad enough Eddie keeps having to drink his boy to the point of unconsciousness so frequently, keep him drained and too weak to really mount an escape attempt. Bad enough he has to leave Radagast and Mithrandir with Steve every time he has to go out on Henry’s orders, leaving the demodogs with strict instructions not to let Steve leave the house. He’s pretty sure Steve thinks all his friends have given him up for dead. If he knew how hard they’re still searching for him, how many rescue missions they’ve mounted into the Upside Down (and honestly? He’s a little disappointed that Henderson hasn’t figured out he’s hiding Steve right under their noses…wasn’t the little shit paying attention to any of Eddie’s campaigns? He should know how Eddie thinks!)…well. Eddie loves how damn stubborn his boy is—but he doesn’t want that stubbornness turned on him. Not when every day seems to bring him a little closer to Steve just breaking down and accepting that he belongs with Eddie, now. To Eddie.

Steve has finished most of the soup when he finally pushes the bowl away and just sits there, waiting for whatever Eddie will do next. Eddie smiles as he pushes the blanket off Steve’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and puddle around the legs of the stool. His boy is dressed in just one of Eddie’s own band t-shirts and a pair of boxers, not having bothered to get dressed today. Not that it matters. Eddie loves the sight of his boy dressed in his clothes, surrounded by his scent. He reaches across the island and grabs the bloodstained present, handing it to Steve.

“You’ll look so pretty in this, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching with barely-restrained excitement as Steve plucks and pulls at the newspaper, trying to avoid touching the bloodstains at all.

When the paper falls away, he feels Steve stiffen beside him, hears a sharp, indrawn breath. He indulges himself a little, pretends it’s excitement and not horror that’s stealing his baby’s breath, causing the fine tremor that runs through his fingers. One day. One day. Once he’s helped Henry achieve his goals, and their enemies have been wiped off the map. Once Steve has no reason to cling to his love for his friends, no reason to fight Eddie anymore.

The collar isn’t as elegant as someone like Steve deserves. Not as fine or supple as Eddie would have chosen. But the leather is thick and sturdy and the locking mechanism is tamper-proof unless you have the key. There’s soft padding on the inside, extra covering over two metal prongs that will sit just at the base of his boy’s skull when it’s wrapped snug around his throat. It’s meant to be worn long-term.

It was meant for Eddie.

“We’ll get you a better one when this is all over, sweetness,” he says, plucking the collar from Steve’s frozen hands and running his fingers along it as he stands to move behind his boy. “But anything will look beautiful on you.” He goes to slip the collar around his boy’s neck and now Steve moves, starts to throw himself off of the stool, starts to cry out. In a flash, the collar is lying on the island and Eddie’s hand is wrapped around his boy’s throat, claws digging into the vulnerable flesh there. “Don’t,” Eddie growls, his voice more animal than human. He knows his eyes are glowing red, can feel his fangs lengthening in his mouth.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on the edge of the island. “Eds, please…”

“Shhh. Don’t fight me, baby. You know what happens when you try to fight me.”

He can feel Steve clench his teeth so tightly his jaw creaks, but his boy doesn’t move again when Eddie picks up the collar, winds it around his throat. There’s a soft sound of despair when Eddie clicks the lock into place, running his finger along the edges to make sure it’s snug, but not too tight.

He doesn’t know how the soldiers that had this in their possession thought they were going to get it on him, but they’d clearly had high hopes for using it to subdue him. Maybe someone on the other side still thinks they can “cure” him of Henry’s changes. Maybe they just wanted to be able to control him. Whatever the reasoning behind it, it’s Eddie’s now. And it’s definitely going to make things easier. For both him and his boy.

He fishes in his pocket for the little device that the collar was packaged with. He left the box with the sensors out on the front porch, not wanting to give Steve a chance to see it before he was ready. He’ll get them set up around the perimeter of the house tonight, after his boy is asleep. Then he won’t have to worry about leaving Steve with the demodogs, won’t have to worry about someone figuring out where they’re staying and coming to try and steal his boy away from him in the night. They won’t be able to. Not without hurting Steve.

“How’s that, baby? Comfortable?” He sits silently, waiting Steve out until he finally gives a short, hopeless nod. “Good. Now, I have to make sure everything works right, okay? Nothing to worry about.” He takes one of Steve’s hands and brings it to his mouth, nuzzling the palm before he kisses the back of his knuckles. “Just a little bit of pain, okay? I promise, I’ll make it up to you. But I want you to know what’ll happen if you try and leave now.”

Steve has time to shoot him a confused look of trepidation, and then Eddie presses the button on the little remote. Steve screams, the shock of electricity racing through his body. His muscles all lock up before he goes completely limp, only Eddie’s inhuman reflexes keeping him from crashing to the floor.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re all right. I’m so sorry, baby, but it’s over now. You’re safe, you’re all right.” He gathers his boy close, stroking a soothing hand through his hair as he twitches in Eddie’s arms, his breath coming in rapid pants. Eddie hums quietly, scooping his boy up into his arms and standing. “Don’t worry, pretty, I won’t do that again. I’ll show you where you’re allowed to go now, tomorrow. Okay? As long as you stay in the boundaries, you won’t ever have to worry about it.” He carries his boy up toward their bedroom, murmuring soothing nonsense as he goes, Mithrandir and Radagast trotting along obediently behind him. Steve’s head rests gently on his shoulder, and his boy turns to press his face into Eddie’s shirt as Eddie trots up the stairs. The fabric is wet by the time he reaches their room.

#steddie #kas!eddie #Eddie munson #steve harrington #fic prompt #dark fic prompt #my writing #stranger things #stranger things fic #cw: captivity

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injestedsoap · 6 months

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Graves Likes Soap

Chapter one on ao3!

Music

The Shadow base smelled like sweat and beef and Soap crinkled his nose when he didn’t think their host, Phillip Graves, was watching. Ghost was looking over some security information before they headed back to their own base which left Soap to kind of meander aimlessly as he attempted to avoid Graves. Soap wasn’t sure if it was a professional thing or, fucking Christ forbid, a crush, but Graves would not leave him alone. Ghost was being about as helpful as someone who found the whole thing funny could be. He didn’t leave Soap alone with Graves if he could help it (“It’s not that I don’t think you can’t take care of yourself, you’re just so small I worry if I turn my back long enough he’ll tuck you in his pocket and walk away.” “Fuck you”) but he sure had fun standing quietly next to Soap while Graves did his flirting or networking or whatever.

“Oi,”

Soap turned around and hailed his Lt as Ghost strode up to him and they matched step on their way to the car park. “All done ‘ere, Johnny.”

“Thank god, let’s get out of here.”

“Why? You don’t want to–?”

“MacTavish! There you are!”

Soap shot a look at Ghost that screamed you did this before turning around with a fake smile to greet Phillip Graves.

“Graves.” He greeted.

“Well damn, son, I knew you were supposed to be here, I had planned to give you the tour.”

“Ach,” Soap said, “We were just leaving, sir.”

“You sure you can’t stick around for a bit?”

“No, we have orders to get back as soon as we finish up here.” Soap lied. They were free for the rest of the day, he had been planning to see if they could find a place to eat before they got back.

“Ah well, next time don’t be a stranger, alright?” Graves reached out and clapped his arm, his hand lingering for just long enough that Soap had to shake him off, next to him he felt Ghost shift closer. “Oh, by the way, I took the liberty of setting aside a Jeep for your use while you’re here, the gas is on my dime, of course.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Soap said.

“Hey listen, Shadow can afford it, you boys enjoy,” He nodded to Soap, his eyes barely passing over Ghost before leaning in and whispering “By the way I, uh, left a little present in the Jeep for you, just something to make you feel a little more comfortable.”

Soap was saved from having to say something by Ghost loudly saying “Come on, Johnny, you can make friends later.”

Soap made a face that he hoped could be interpreted as apologetic and not relieved as he trotted after Ghost.

The moment Soap thought it was safe he hissed “Do you think he shit in the jeep?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see him while I was shitting in the jeep.”

Soap yelped a startled laugh and punched Ghost on the arm. “Lord, I do not like that man.” Soap said, shaking his head. “Makes me feel slimy.”

“Mmh,” Ghost grunted in agreement as they opened the doors to their Jeep. It appeared to be free of shit and Soap patted down his seat before climbing in. “Nothing weird on my side, you?”

“Nah,” Ghost climbed into the driver’s side. “What are the odds the car explodes when I start it?”

Soap tensed up dramatically when the engine turned over but nothing happened… at first.

“They may take our lives!” A horrible Scottish accent suddenly yelled, causing the two men to jump, “But they can never take our freedom! Heh, just a little taste of my scottie, MacTavish.”

There was a dawning horror as Soap realized Grave’s voice was coming out of the speaker of the Jeep. For a chilling moment Soap thought this might be a talking to them via a radio that couldn’t be disconnected, he’d be their permanent JARVIS for the duration of their stay. And then, somehow, it got worse.

“Anyway, the radio stations here are all pretty shit so I figured I could be your own personal DJ, I was able to pack the 20 best songs onto this CD so enjoy!”

The transition into Centerfold was drowned out by a violent swearing streak from Soap and the loudest laugh he had ever heard come out of Ghost’s mask.

“FUCKING TURN IT OFF!” Soap yelled smacking at the console until the CD mercifully stopped. Soap threw the CD into the glove box like it was a spider with a gun and kicked it shut.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He gasped.

In the driver’s seat Ghost was still choking on laughter.

“We can’t fucking stay here, man. He’s going to skin me or something.” Soap groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“D’you think he’s gonna call Price?” Ghost asked through bursts of laughter, “Ask if he can take you out for milkshakes?”

“Price better say no!” Soap yelled.

“I’m sure he will,” Ghost reassured, his voice still breathless with laughter, as he reached to fiddle with a pocket on his chest, “I don’t think Graves can pay your dowry.”

“Sure, right,” Soap rubbed at the headache that was blooming behind his eyes, “I’m worth a few goats, aren’t I?”

There was a moment of quiet and then, softly, Ghost said “If he bothers you let me know, alright?”

Soap started to say he could take care of himself, he didn’t need Ghost to be his guard dog, then he sighed, felt himself relax a little and nodded. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Good lad… now do you want to listen to some music?”

“Ghost I swear to god–”

He made an aborted reach for the CD Ghost pushed into the player and then stopped, a smile creeping across his face, as Take It Off by Kesha started playing. Soap sat back in his seat, his smile widening by the second.

“I love this song.” He said, his voice giddy with surprise.

“I know.” Ghost replied, handing him a jewel case that had a printed track list in the front.

“I love all of these songs!” Soap laughed, “Where did you get this?”

“Made it.”

“What?” Soap fully turned in his seat, leaning across the gear shift to make sure he heard right, “I’m sorry what? ”

“I’ll throw it out the bloody window if you’re going to be a prick about it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Soap caught his wrist mid reach, “Do this,” he said, redirecting it to the volume dial and using Ghost’s hand to turn it up.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Can’t hear you!” Soap yelled back, already bouncing in his seat and pointing at the speaker “Kesha!”

Headache forgotten and slimy feeling under his skin dissipated Soap yelled along to girl pop the whole drive back.

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap #ghost #ghoap #ghostsoap #call of duty fan fiction #cod fan fic

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grandmaster-anne · 1 year

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Gyles Brandreth's Exclusive Extract Last Part

The Mail Plus | Published 27 November 2022

Just one example of the Queen’s pithily dry sense of humour, as revealed in GYLES BRANDRETH’s sparkling new biography. Here, in a final extract, he describes why — from pitch-perfect George Formby impressions to laughing at President Trump — she was ‘the best company in the world’

AT a polo match at Windsor, the actor Ian Ogilvy was in the refreshment tent when the Queen wandered in – ‘tweeds, headscarf, muddy wellington boots’.

When he was presented to her, to make conversation, the actor suddenly remembered the name of one of the horses she used to ride on ceremonial occasions.

‘I was wondering, ma’am – whatever happened to Burmese?’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ said the Queen, her face lighting up. ‘Well, it’s funny you should ask, because I’ve just been to see her. She’s very old, of course, but she lives here at Windsor, in her own field just half a mile away.

‘So I went into her field, you see, and she came trotting over, as always, because we know each other terribly well, of course – great old friends, in fact and I always take her a carrot or an apple or something – and I was just giving it to her, you see, when I heard this awful snorting and thumping noise and I looked up and there was this huge stallion charging at me! At full gallop!

‘I had no idea what he was doing in Burmese’s field, but here he was, pounding towards me, and his eyes were all red and his ears were laid back and his enormous teeth were bared – just like this!’

And here Ian Ogilvy claims to be one of the few of the late Queen’s subject to have seen Her Majesty ‘performing her homicidal horse routine’.

‘And I knew without a shadow of doubt,’ the Queen continued, ‘that he was going to kill me so I ran, quite literally ran, as fast as I could to the gate and got out just seconds before he attacked me and – well, the fact is – you very nearly lost your sovereign’.

The fun of spending time with the Queen was finding out how much fun she was and discovering unexpected things about her. She really could sing ‘when I’m cleaning winders’ and the other songs George Formby sang to his banjolele when she was growing up during the war – and with Formby’s authentic Lancashire accent, too. (She was the Duke of Lancaster, after all.)

Her fondness for practical jokes is well known, as when she wore a false ginger beard to greet Prince Philip on his return from a world tour – during which he’d been photographed sporting a full set of whiskers.

Those close to the Queen also speak of the many spot-on impressions she did (including an alarmingly accurate vocal recreation of Concorde coming in to land over Windsor Castle).

But it was her wry, dry, humorous way of looking at things that particularly struck me, and her appreciation of jokes.

Back when I was a Conservative MP, I know she was amused by the hand-written message sent to her daily from the Vice-Chamberlain – a member of the government whips’ office – whenever parliament was sitting.

This ‘message’, as it’s known, was designed to give the Queen a flavour of the mood of the House of Commons – who was doing well, who wasn’t and how the wind was blowing. And in my day, the Vice-Chamberlain would also send Her Majesty some of my jokes.

It certainly amused her, for instance, when I told her that political correctness required that the Tory MP Sydney Chapman should properly be known these days as Sydney Personperson.

I once made the Queen laugh by telling her a story she claimed she had never heard before – but that both Tony Snowdon and the Lady Olivier (actress Joan Plowright) assured me is true.

In the story, the Snowdons visit the Oliviers at their house in Brighton, and Lady Olivier and Princess Margaret are comparing notes on the progress of their baby boys. David Linley was born on November 3, 1961; Richard Olivier was born a month later, on December 3, 1961.

Lady Olivier boasts that Richard has spoken his first word and she says she is ‘so pleased – and so is her husband – because Richard’s first word was “Dada”.’

Princess Margaret responds with the news that by happy coincidence, her little David had just spoken his first word.

‘And what was it?’ asks Lady Olivier.

‘It was “chandelier”,’ says Princess Margaret proudly.

The Queen thought that very funny and reckoned it was possibly true, given the chandeliers that hang from the ceilings at Kensington Palace. The nanny could have pointed it out to baby David in his cot, she said, and kept repeating, ‘chandelier!’

Thanks to my friendship with Prince Philip, I was often given privileged access to the Queen, to walk and talk with her as she went about her official duties. I also chatted with her at assorted private events and parties.

Her voice was softer, less artificial and less strangulated in conversation, than the voice we heard when she was opening Parliament or giving her Christmas Day broadcast.

My conversations and small talk with her would all be recorded, on the day, in the diary I have been keeping since 1959. Over the years, I also talked to some of her friends and many of the people who worked with her. They, too, spoke fondly of her well-developed sense of humour.

Major-General Sir Sebastian Roberts, formerly Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion of the Irish Guards and Major-General commanding the Household Division, told me his happiest memory of Her Majesty.

Rehearsing for Trooping the Colour, the Queen’s Birthday Parade, and riding a new horse, a powerful charger of nineteen-and-a-half hands, he said the animal ran away with him, careering down the Mall at 40 miles per hour.

Eventually, with a cry of ‘pull the effing reins ’til the bridle comes out of his arse’ from a sergeant-major ringing in his ears, the Major-General managed to bring the horse under control.

Later in the day, Roberts recounted the tale to the Queen. ‘She laughed and laughed and laughed. I’ve never seen her laugh so much,’ he said.

And while we’re on horsey stories, cast your mind back to the wedding in 1973 of Princess Anne to Mark Phillips, a key member of the British three-day-eventing team that had triumphed in the Olympics the previous year.

‘I shouldn’t wonder if their children are four-legged,’ the Queen is supposed to have remarked.

Like other members of her family, the Queen also enjoyed comic glitches when nothing quite went to plan.

The King’s goddaughter India Hicks recalled one of these as we sheltered under an umbrella on September 14 this year, watching the royal hearse bring the Queen’s body back to Buckingham Palace for the last time.

We were talking about how the Queen was on constant show – even in death – when she told me a hilarious story about the time her mother, Pamela Mountbatten, had been accompanying the Queen on her post-Coronation Commonwealth tour.

They were in Tonga, in the South Pacific, and it was late at night. Pamela bumped into the Queen when they were both stumbling around the Governor’s house, or whatever it was, looking for the bathroom.

When they found it, they turned on the light – only to discover that on the other side of the bathroom a second door was wide open and looking out on to the garden, where 400 men were sitting by their campfires staring at them.

The following morning was a Sunday, and the royal party had been hoping for a lie-in. Instead, the Queen and Prince Philip were woken at dawn by four men at their bedroom door blowing nose flutes in their honour.

Given the weirdness of her life (imprisoned by her fate: destined to be monarch from the age of ten), the Queen seemed to me to be quite remarkably well-balanced, rounded, grounded and at ease with herself, the world and her place in it.

From the moment of her coronation onwards, for more than 70 years, Elizabeth II was the object of adulation. People bowed and curtseyed before her on a daily basis. When she went on international tours, hundreds and thousands – on occasion, millions – turned out to cheer.

‘It didn’t affect her at all,’ the Duke of Edinburgh said to me. ‘She never for a moment thought the cheering was for her personally. It’s for the position she holds – it’s for the role she fulfils, it’s because she’s Queen.

‘That’s all. She knows that. Her head hasn’t been turned by being Queen – not at all. She’s quite normal.’

Throughout her reign, she took the possibility of being in the firing line in her stride. At Christmas 2021, when the Queen was 95, a masked and hooded intruder wielding a crossbow – a 20-year-old from Southampton, Jaswant Singh Chail – approached a police officer in the grounds of Windsor Castle and announced he had come ‘to kill the Queen’.

He was arrested and charged under the 1842 Treason Act. When the Queen was told about the incident, she said to one of her team in the Windsor Covid ‘bubble’: ‘Yes, well, that would have put a dampner on Christmas, wouldn’t it?’

This year, just a few days before the Queen died, I went to see her old friend Prue Penn at her home in Scotland. She showed me, because I asked, photographs of Her Majesty and her family at Lady Penn’s ninetieth birthday party.

To illustrate the Queen’s humility, Prue told me about a dinner she and her husband had given for the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh and a few friends in their house in London.

‘I had made a carefully thought-out table plan which I forgot to take with me into the dining room,’ she explained.

‘Consequently, I got into a serious muddle over the placing of our guests. Seeing my confusion, Her Majesty took over and in no time at all had made a very good job of it, sat down and said, “Lucky you weren’t giving an important dinner party”.’

Cracking up: The Queen and Prince Philip watching a presentation by recruits of Welsh Brigade in 1963

The Queen added, grinning, ‘We don’t mind who sits where – but I know a few ambassadors who might.’

Prue said to me quickly: ‘You mustn’t put that last bit in your book,’ but I want to risk it because it illustrates the Queen’s impish sense of humour.

As does another of Lady Penn’s stories…

‘On one occasion when the Queen was staying with us in Suffolk,’ she said, ‘we went for a walk along the banks of the river Alde. Below the 12th Century St. Botolph Iken Church, we met a woman walking her dog which happened to be a corgi.

‘Her Majesty was a magnet to dogs, and it made straight for her. She bent down to stroke and talk to it. Seeing the affinity between them, the woman asked if she happened to be a corgi fan, too.

'She said that she was, whereupon the owner said, “Well, you and I are in good company because the Queen has them too”.

'‘‘’Wasn’t that killing?” the Queen said as we walked away.'

Richard Griffin, a former Royal Protection Officer, tells a lovely story in a similar vein of a time when he was out walking with the Queen near Balmoral.

‘Whenever we met people on these walks, the Queen would always stop and say hello. One day we met a couple of American tourists and it was clear from the moment we first stopped they hadn’t recognised her.

‘After they had been chatting a while, the American said to Her Majesty, “And where do you live?”

‘She said, “Well, I live in London, but I’ve got a holiday home just the other side of the hills”.’

‘The tourist then asked the Queen how long she had been visiting the area, and she replied: ‘For over 80 years, since I was a little girl.’

‘Well,’ said the American, ‘if you’ve been coming up here for 80 years, you must have met the Queen?’

According to Griffin, ‘As quick as a flash, she said, “Well, I haven’t, but Dickie here meets her regularly”.

‘So the American guy said to me, “You’ve met the Queen? What’s she like?”

‘Because I was with her a long time and I knew I could pull her leg, I said, “She can be very cantankerous at times, but she’s got a lovely sense of humour.”’

‘The American tourist proceeded to put his arm around the protection officer and gave his camera to the Queen, asking if she’d take a picture of them both.’

Labour PM James Callaghan maintained all his conversations with her were enjoyable. ‘One of the great things about her,’ he said, ‘is that she always seems able to see the funny side of life.’

On her Silver Jubilee in 1977, James Callaghan’s Cabinet presented the Queen with a silver coffee pot.

‘Oh!’ the Queen said to Callaghan, apparently delighted, ‘I’m so glad you haven’t repeated Mr Disraeli’s gift to Queen Victoria. He gave her a painting of himself.’

The Queen liked to tease Edward Heath, even after he was no longer prime minister. In 1992, at a gathering of foreign heads of government, she told her former Conservative premier, ‘You’re expendable now.’

Some commentators interpreted the remark as a deliberate put-down. She was simply being playful.

On another occasion, as he came aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia, the Sovereign greeted Heath, mimicking a conductor, with the words, ‘Are you still waving your stick about?’

Not every prime minister relished the traditional Balmoral weekend, which took place every September. Margaret Thatcher told me it really wasn’t her ‘cup of tea’. She said she ‘dreaded’ the charades that she was expected to play after dinner at Balmoral.

Long afterwards, the Queen, at a gathering of six of her prime ministers – including Mrs Thatcher – joked about ‘the party games which some of you have so nobly endured at Balmoral’ – but she nonetheless maintained the tradition.

According to Boris Johnson, the last prime minister the Queen got to know, the weekend there was fun. ‘There was a lot of laughter,’ he said, ‘a lot of laughter.’

In 2018, the Queen had to put up with Donald Trump striding ahead of her when he visited Windsor and inspected the Guard of Honour. Far from being offended, she was amused.

And that night, when the Queen saw herself on television, bobbing about behind him, she laughed out loud.

‘She really loved a good joke,’ recalled Major-General Sir Sebastian Roberts, who was Commander of the Household Division In April 1989 when Russia’s President Mikhail Gorbachev was coming on a state visit.

The communist leader was due to inspect a Guard of Honour at Windsor, and before the event Roberts received a call from Her Majesty.

‘What coats will the Coldstreamers be wearing, Sebastian?’ asked the Queen.

‘Summer coats, Your Majesty, it’s almost mid-April,’ said Roberts.

‘Could they wear their winter coats, Sebastian?’

The Major-General told me: ‘So we scrambled to get the men out of their summer kit into their winter coats.

‘Gorby duly arrived at Windsor and was invited to inspect the Guard of Honour with the Duke of Edinburgh. Inspection done, Gorby said to the Queen – as every visitor always did after any Guard of Honour – “very impressive, marvellous uniforms”.

‘To which the Queen replied, with a twinkle in her eye, “Thank you, Mr President. They’re the Coldstream Guards. They got their bearskins from Napoleon at Waterloo and their greatcoats from you in the Crimea.”’

Once, I told the Queen I’d been to Dubai as a guest of the ruler, Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, and that he had shown me around his famous Godolphin stables.

‘I envy you,’ she said. She knew the Sheikh well because of their shared love of racing.

‘I went on my birthday,’ I said.

‘Did he give you a present?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but it wasn’t the white Rolls-Royce he had lent me for the week’.

‘What was it?’ she asked.

‘It was something he said my wife would treasure.’

The Queen looked at me wide-eyed: ‘Pearls? Diamonds?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘it was a small book of love poetry – poems written by the Sheikh himself and then translated into truly awful English by the retired British brigadier who worked as his ADC.’

She laughed at that and told me she had received some ‘quite strange’ presents in her time, including all sorts of animals, from antelopes to zebra, and what she described as an ‘Aladdin’s cave’ of gems when she visited the Gulf states in 1979.

‘Millions of pounds worth of jewellery and gold and silver,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what happened to it. It’s probably locked up in a basement at the Foreign Office.’

Ask the Duke of Kent – now undeniably old and a bit unsteady on his feet – for his happiest, most vivid recollection of the Queen and he doesn’t hesitate.

‘She was just the best company,’ he said, smiling. ‘So easy, so relaxed, so much fun. When you were alone with her, when she was just being herself, she was simply the best company in the world.’

The Queen told me she had a soft spot for Rupert Bear. She remembered reading the Rupert annuals when she was a girl, and said Prince Charles loved Rupert, too.

I told her that Rupert aficionados claim that Rupert isn’t a bear at all: he is a boy with a bear’s head.

‘That can’t be right,’ she said, ‘Surely not.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘if you look at the pictures, you’ll see he’s got fingers on his hands and very human-looking feet.’

‘I’m sorry you told me that,’ she said. ‘Some things are best left unknown, don’t you think?’

Read Extract 1 Extract 2

#Elizabeth: An Intimate Portrait by Gyles Brandreth #queen elizabeth ii #biography

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chocolate-teapots · 2 years

Text

Coming Out: Sam Emerson

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

You and Sam are finally alone.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Warnings: oh gosh, heavy makeout session, boners, orgasms, oral (f receiving), smuttttt

"Sam lights out!"

"Come on mom just one more page, I'm almost finished."

Sam was practically on his knees begging to his mom and Lucy could never understand one little bit the deep connection between a boy and his comics.

Sam didn't even like that horror stuff that he was reading, he'd always scream at the creatures that his lamp made and the voices that the wind would create. It was a sight for sure to see a grown-ass kid running around screaming in his bedroom.

"No Sam, we have a busy day tomorrow. It's grandpa's animal festival thingy! Plus I need to know you're living a healthy lifestyle while I'm gone."

"How could I forget? Your 'big date'. Yes and this comic is helping me to prepare for either a) being kidnapped/murdered by vampires and/or b) deal with the horror that will be that festival, mom. Try to understand!"

I had to admit when Sam got all whiny and teenagery while making up excuses not to go places or bicker with his mom, I couldn't help but chuckle at him. It was like he was a character, all exaggerated in all the right places- too good to be true you could say. But, here he was right in front of me while I was in the shadows.

"Fine. No more attitude though. This family's been through a lot."

"I know. I know"

"20 minutes then lights out."

He smiles that goofy flirty smile of his, looking straight towards the closet doors.

"You're the best!"

"I know!"

Nanook trotted after Lucy proudly to wave her off I'm sure.

The door shut and another one opens. I come falling out of that closet as if I was being suffocated by stuffed dead animals, dirty designer laundry and hidden posters of gorgeous girls. I coughed, catching my breath from having to hide my breath all the time and all he does is laugh mischievously at his mom's stupidity.

"You okay?" he asks, laughing at my outburst quite literally.

"Are you kidding? Do you know how many times this thing poked me in the butt?" I held up a dead hedgehog carefully, feeling the tiny pokes still in my butt from earlier.

He could only laugh and lift his brows.

"Well you better get used to it, it's not the only thing that's gonna be poking you tonight."

I put the dead animal down, feeling as if it was slightly out of place and copy Sam's devilish invitation to his bed where he was laying.

"Is that so?"

I make my way over to him, his comic book laying on his chest as there is better entertainment in front of him now- or so I hoped. I straddle his slightly sitting position, hands comfortable finding their comfort place around his neck and weaving into his blonde hair comfortably. It was still wet from where he bathed earlier and stuck to his flushing face like the sauce to spaghetti.

"Was it worth the wait?" he asks, looking to the closet again where there was a tiny intimidating gap that all the animals could peer out of if they wanted to.

I slid down him, embracing his warm chest over his duvet until he throws it over us both, locking us together in a place so that we could never escape. I didn't really want to either.

"I'm in no rush," I whisper, looking up at him as I finish to see him already figuring me out from above.

His big blue eyes looked at me and I knew they wondered 'what is this girl?' and 'how did I get so lucky?' and this wasn't me being selfish, it was a fact since he reminded me of those questions every single moment we spent together. I wondered the same thing but he's a guy so kinda wondered differently.

Sam's lips capture mine from somewhere way further above than where he was, so above it was heavenly. Sometimes we'd like to shout that we're older than what people think but it was times like this where we enjoyed being young and young other- not having to worry about anything other than this very kiss. But, at the same time, we were maturer and wiser since we kissed and we lived like it was the last time we could ever as if someone was coming to take it all away.

He throws the comic book to the side and I jump sensitive to all the sounds. His arms squeeze my frame, growing more confident in the way we touched and mounting me under the warmth of the sheets.

"I can't wait for a whole weekend of this," he groans in between kisses, distracting me with his words from the pressure he was adding to my neck.

I really tried to hold back my sounds, I really did, like I did in the closet but sometimes nature just has a way of letting all of it out against your will. After all, there was no controlling nature.

"Me neither."

Biting down hard, my chest collided with his suddenly as my back tensed to the sky. He wasn't doing anything other than dating me and still it could drive me crazy.

I used to panic about this kind of thing and Sam said he could feel it in our first awkward little kiss together. You think but how will I know when to do this, what do do with this but there is no answer. You see, even someone as painfully overthinking as me, when faced with that moment at that moment just does it. You just do it and it all makes sense and you become so proud of yourself for something so stupid.

Drilling me against the mattress, his head travels lower down until I could see the outline of his quiff in the space between my middle and his baggy shirt that I was wearing only. He kisses down, leaving the redness of his lips everywhere including my face and my vision. I was seeing red but not the bad red like in Vampires Everywhere, the good red.

The red that can make you feel overwhelming things.

"Can I try something?"

His tone is serious, persuasive and full of hope as if his whole world would crash down if I said no.

Of course, I said yes regardless of his persuasion techniques and I couldn't help but get a little hotter by his question, really feeling that passion that all the older girls chatted about in school while they left me out the circle.

I nod up on my elbows, I nod everywhere and he could feel it with his head directly facing my crotch at this point. The heat I'm sure was like a hairdryer to his face and the wetness and pulsing was surely like he was holding a human beating heart.

"It'll feel good, I promise."

I already knew it would but I didn't know what he was doing.

I was still young- although I'd hate to admit- and of course, being young my knowledge of sex stretched no further than making out and what some of the girls did behind the bleachers while getting out of health class.

He was so far down when my heartbeat reached a deadly pace that his whole body was lying on the bed apart from his head and the tops of his shoulders. Sam's blue eyes were now black, looking at my underwear as if accomplishing a lifelong dream like getting to a top of a mountain and finally getting to embark on that dream.

His breathing alone was driving me insane, in and out, in and out just like my own. The exact same pace. The exact same anxiety and heaviness within it.

What if I'm not sexy?

What if she doesn't like it?

But both 'what if I'm not good enough?'

He warmth of his exhales were brushing against me making tiny pricks of joy and pleasure begin before the DJ had arrived at the party. And then he kissed that other part of me and suddenly I didn't have to worry and even if I wanted to I couldn't.

This was the life.

"I'm so glad you invited me over," I breathed, the crown of my head digging into the headboard to try and bring myself back to reality with pain as so normal life of a human should feel this good at any moment.

He moans into me, tongue wiggling into me after teasing my clit for a while. I didn't really understand what he was doing and had no idea how he was so confidently inexperienced but I didn't care. It was too good to care.

I tried not to roll my eyes when he hummed into me but I couldn't help it. My body had lost control of all of me and the puppet strings had been cut.

My hand flies to the headboard as if he's pulling me more and more towards him, like a black hole taking me in part by part. That black hole continued to suck me in, quite literally, until I reached the core and it good better, nicer and whinier.

By that, I meant I was close.

"Sam, I'm close," I look to him for help as if he could help me at all in his moment.

He replies with that smirk of his, as usual, spreading along with me down there and detaching himself from his previous location. He inserts a finger into me, sending me quickly from a disappointing transition to an 'oh my god what is he doing!'.

I grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him back up towards me in hope that his frame would mute the noises that spilt out of me as dark and as deadly as an oil spill.

"Holy shit you're so hot," he whispers into my ear, youthful voice twitching them as he bites them lightly and playfully.

Was there a secret class in school that I didn't know about?

"Sam."

He asks if I'm ready.

"Oh, Sam."

I nod aggressively.

"Sam please."

He thrusts straight into me.

"Sam."

He continues to torture me.

"Y/N."

He starts the noises.

"Sam."

I reciprocate.

"Sam!"

My mouth was closed.

"Y/N you there?"

So was his.

Too quickly for us to move, the door to him room slams open before we can make it less obvious that we were fucking. Luckily the sheet covered us but no fabric could cover the gasps we made that didn't help our case at all.

"Mike! Get the hell out man! Can't you knock?"

#80s movie #80s imagines #the lost boys #sam emerson #corey haim #corey haim imagine

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stillafanofsonic · 1 year

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Darkling Wade - Eclipse starts having self esteem issues after hanging out with the hedgehogs more, and noticing that humans seem to respond better to them because they're fluffy and cute. He wishes he was more like them...

Eclipse walked down the sidewalk with his brothers, the hedgehogs. The three of them were on the mission; they had each scourged up some change and loose bills and they were getting treats (candy for Silver, potato chips for Shadow and beef jerky for himself). He hadn't really wanted to go, but their dad had insisted, saying it was good for them to get out of the house. So here they were. After their snack run, Silver mentioned something about a library, whatever that was.

It was his first time around town just them, without their dad. All these humans around. Eclipse was doing his best to act like it didn't bother him. But it did. He could feel their stares and did his best to stick closely to his brothers.

The hedgehogs trotted on ahead of him, confident.

Suddenly a woman shrieked. "Don't touch me!"

Eclipse head snapped upward, yanked out of his thoughts in confusion. He hadn't done anything.

"Get away from me!" She yelled.

Instinct kicked in and he bared his teeth, realizing that as he passed, his spikes on his arm had caught on her skirt. "I didn't!"

She scowled. "Don't threaten me!" She looked over at Silver and Shadow. "Where is your father? I can't believe he lets this thing come out here unsupervised!"

Shadow didn't say anything but Silver spoke up. "He's at home... Our dad let's us walk to the store by ourselves... and he's not a thing, he's not hurting anyone..."

Her demeanor changed right away. "Oh, I see. Well, I know that neither of you hurt anyone, sweethearts but... he's.. different." She snuck a sideways glare toward him.

"How is he different?"

"Look at him." When she did, Eclipse snarled again. “I think you need to tell your dad about this, especially letting him out. ” When Silver nodded, confused, she swept on down the street.

The three of them stared after her. “That was weird...” Shadow said quietly. “C’mon.”

Suddenly, Eclipse didn’t want to be there anymore. On a street, surrounded by humans, seeing them everywhere. It was too much and he couldn’t take it anymore. “No, I’m going home.”

“What, why?”

“I just...” Eclipse couldn't tell them, neither of the hedgehogs seemed to understand. No one was yelling at them like this. “Bye,” he said and took off running back in the direction of safety, darting around and under and between many humans, going as fast as he could to get away from all of them.

Maybe his Father had been right, maybe humans really were the worst and didn’t deserve to be alive anymore.

***

Wade was at home, enjoying the peace and quiet when he heard the front door slam. That was surprising, he had sent the boys off to get a treat with their saved change and then library while he focused on trying to get more jobs lined up for the rest of the week. "Hello?"

"I hate humans!" He heard Eclipse snarl.

Leaving the kitchen, Wade found the smaller darkling standing in front of the door, glaring furiously. Anger was almost glowing around him. "What happened...? Where's Silver and Shadow?"

"They kept going. I wasn't wanted." With that, it all came spilling out. What some woman had said to him, how she said he was different. And then he didn't want to be out in public anymore. Never wanted to see another human being again.

By the time Eclipse finished, Wade felt a rush of anger knotting up in his chest. If he had been there, he wouldn't of hesitated to step up and say something. To defend his son. "Do you know who it was?"

"No." The look of anger melted away from Eclipse's face, replaced by a more vulnerable look, one that was ashamed and upset. "She wasn't upset about either of them.... just me..." He finally looked up at Wade. "Do people them them better?"

Wade's stomach dropped. He knew that answer was yes, of course people liked the hedgehogs better. They were cute and fluffy. Neither of them growled and hissed at people. This situation wasn't one that he expected But now it was here, he understood it. But he didn't want to tell Eclipse that. "Well.... of course not."

"Of course they do..." The darkling muttered, playing with his tail. "You probably like them better... I wish I was more like them..."

"Don't say that," Wade said, hating that he was hearing those words come out of his son's mouth. Especially since Wade knew that he had contributed to this problem; the fact that he had hated the transformation and then been depressed about it probably hadn't helped. But it was too late to change any of that now. "I love all of you equally."

That only made Eclipse's tail lash back and forth furiously. "It's true!" He yelled. "If I had fur and wasn't like this, people wouldn't hate me so much!"

"Yeah well... If I had six arms instead of two, I could probably get more done," Wade blurted out, the only response he could think of to that. It was enough to make the darkling tilt his head to the left in puzzlement. Enough to snap him out of that angry headspace. "But that's something that will never happen, so it's not worth dwelling on."

Leaning down, he put one hand on Eclipse's shoulder. "I like you the way you are, scales and everything. And so do your brothers. There are areas you can improve in, everyone has them but no one wishes you were a completely different person."

"Really...?"

"Really," Wade assured him. A moment later, he had his arms full of darkling. Carefully he stood up, cradling his son tenderly. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I care about you."

"Thanks..."

Wade grimaced slightly at that response, as Eclipse still hadn't responded properly to being told that but at least he accepted it, seemed like he was comforted by those words.

For now, Wade had others things he needed to worry about. Like what to do about these people who were mistreating his son, especially when he wasn't around. To find who it was and how to put a stop to this. In anyway that he could.

"I know that you're upset, but you need to know not to hate every human now because of something one person did."

"Why? Eclipse demanded, starting to wiggle in his arms.

Wade set him down. "Because it's not fair to judge an entire species for the acts of one person." That was difficult for him to say, as humans hadn't been very kind to him either. But it didn't right. However, that was something that he didn't need to say out loud. "Tom and Maddie aren't like that, are they?"

"No..."

"Exactly." Wade said. "Neither of them deserve hate for something. Just because one person is unkind, doesn't mean you have to be. Or that you can't go around town anymore. You live here just as much as she does."

Eclipse shrugged and headed for the kitchen, clearly done with the conversation. Wade just watched him go, hoping that at least some of what had been said would stay with his son.

But as soon as Silver and Shadow got home, he would ask them if they knew who the person was. Just in case he ever saw her again.

He would protect his kid.

#for you bestie <3 #asks #my writing #darkling wade #doomfox's tag

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breannasfluff · 2 years

Photo

The stupid farmhand fixed the gate again. Renata’s going to have to find a new weak spot to kick down. She snorts and kicks a hoof against the dirt. The work she has to go through!

She’s been rubbing against the far guardrail for a while, though—the one you have to walk through mud to reach. No one has noticed and fixed it. If she aims a few good kicks with her hind legs, she can probably break it. And once the top rung is gone, the rest of the herd is easy to convince.

Mind made up, Renata primly picks through the mud to her destination. She turns around, glances once more to check her aim, and throws all her power into her back hooves.

The fence board snaps and drops with a clatter of wood. The herd look up, alerted at the noise. Please, Renata steps over the lower board and ambles into town, the herd in tow.

It’s not long before complaints grow and Luisa is called for. The downside of this plan is being tossed in the air—where no donkey should be—but Renata did get to eat some new flowers from a window box.

She doesn’t run when Luisa approaches, just snags one last tasty bite before she’s picked up and carried home.

“I’ve got your donkeys!” Luisa calls as she approaches.

Renata timed it perfectly—the farmhand steps out to meet her instead of his father. “Oh—Oh Luisa. Hi Luisa. Hi, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Bringing back…your donkeys?”

Renata puts her ears back. How can the boy be so tongue-tied? Doesn’t he know how hard it is to kick down a fence?

“Yeah! I mean, of course, you’re bringing the donkeys back. Wait.” The boy spins and looks at the field. “Why aren’t the donkeys in the pen? I just fixed the gate!”

“Well, they were in town again. Eating window boxes.” Luisa shrugs and the donkeys shift on her shoulders.

Renata would like to be put down, thank you very much.

“Okay, well let’s go check the pen. Sorry to make you come up here again, Luisa.” Now that he has a task, some of the hesitance fades.

Luisa shrugs again, undeterred by the weight of the donkeys. “I seem to be up here a lot.”

The farmhand winces and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah…sorry about that. Uh, sorry again. I do…like seeing you?”

Luisa hums but doesn’t respond.

This isn’t working. The farmhand isn’t the brightest donkey in the herd, but even he should be able to court a female!

Renata’s hooves soon meet the firm ground and the rest of the herd scatters. A few wander toward the broken fence again.

With a groan, the farmhand and Luisa follow. “Seriously? The wood on the fence isn’t even that old!”

Renata follows, trying to look like she just happened to be walking that way.

Luisa picks up a few boards, examining them. “It looks like this broke under force, not from age. Think one of the donkeys kicked it?”

They both turn and look around. Renata assumes a vacant expression and mouths for grass by her hoof.

“I don’t know.” The farmhand scans the herd. “They’re a pretty mellow bunch.”

“Easy to collect,” Luisa agrees. “Do you need help on this fence?”

“Ah—”

Say yes, say yes.

“I got it on my own, thanks though."

Stupid boy. Renata has to do everything herself. She waits until Luisa and the farmhand are picking their way back through the mud before she trots by, sure-footed with four feet. Her shoulder accidentally bumps the boy, knocking him into Luisa. They both slip and shuffle in the mud, then go down.

Glancing back, Renata can’t help but be smug. They’re laying against each other and, sure, they are covered in mud, but Renata looks particularly fetching with a nice layer.

The two humans squirm and squawk, so Renata leaves them to it. She deserves extra oats for all her help. Or maybe another of those window box flowers.

A shadow of doubt crosses her mind. What if one time isn’t enough for the two to mate? She better make sure.

Renata sets her sights on a section of fence with loose nails. A few days of scratching will loosen it right up.

Behind her, the humans still flail in the mud.

Human mating rituals are so strange.

AO3 link here.

#encantober #donkey #luisa madrigal #my art #my writing

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silverwings22 · 1 year

Text

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 47: All Around Me- Flyleaf

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter Warnings: Near death experiences, talk of death, talk of assisted suicide, shadow work, mentions of torture

Translations: ad'ika: little one di'kut: idiot osik: shit su runi: your soul ram'ser: sniper Jai'galaar: shriek-hawk har'chaak: Damn it buir: mother/father vor entye, ner ba'vodu: thank you, my aunt/uncle ner kar'ta: My heart shebs: ass ner ad: my child luubid: enough

Previous Chapter:

Next Chapter:

Naboo stretched warm and comforting to cradle the Havoc Marauder when they landed. Irene and Argais were already waiting for them as Tech maneuvered the ship into the large drying barn.

"Did you tell them we were coming, Hunter?" Miria stood up from her seat, pausing to hack into her elbow. "Pardon me. The smoke on Kashyyyk didn't do me any favors."

"Easy." Hunter steadied her. "And no, I didn't tell anybody."

"I did." Echo admitted quietly. "I've been… in contact with your aunt and uncle for a couple months."

"Tattling on me. It's rude to make fun of the disabled." She didn't look too upset, smiling faintly as she cleaned the blood off her arm with a bacta wipe. Echo was immediately relieved.

"Not if it's your sister. Then it's love." He teased.

The ramp opened and Omega trotted headlong into Argais' knees. "I missed you guys!"

"We missed you too, young one. Annalise has been baking up a storm since sunrise for your visit. And I have some new flowers to show you." He pleasantly scooped Omega onto his hip.

Irene gave Miria a critical glance. "You look like shit, ad'ika."

"Thank you, Aunt Irene." Miria shook her head with a grimace. "I rather feel like it too, but that is why we're here."

"Well come inside. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll talk. You smell like smoke and wookiee." The Mandalorian woman sighed.

"We did just leave Kashyyyk."

They got into the house and Hunter sighed, a grin on his face. "Your mom's cooking smells amazing."

Miria nodded. "Mother? It's me, I'm…" Saying she was home didn't quite feel right, but it was close. This place wouldn't be home without the missing piece. "I'm back."

"Miria!" Annalise darted from the kitchen, covered liberally in flour, and wrapped her daughter in a hug. "Oh sweetheart, you're so pale! Let me get you some tea. You don't like caf, but I can make some for the boys. I sent your father to the store to get juice for Omega, but I wasn't sure what she liked so I told him to get-"

"Mother, relax. It's alright." Miria put her hands over her mother's fluttery ones. "Don't stress yourself. We're easy to please."

"That's right. You're like your uncle. Sorry, sorry…" Annalise rubbed her thumbs lightly over Miria's braces. "I just… keep hoping maybe if I can make everything perfect, you won't want to leave again."

"You know why I can't stay, Mother. Not yet." Miria shook her head.

"Cause she's in love with a di'kut." Aram walked in, dressed in a spectacularly flowy turquoise and gold pair of haram pants and tunic. "Am I allowed to eat the cookies now? She hit me with a spoon earlier, Miri." He started to lean in for a hug and paused. "... go take a shower. All of you. I have clean clothes for you too."

"You didn't have to go to all the trouble-" Miria started.

"Yes I did. Shower. You're not getting the smell of ash and fur into my clothes. Shoo." He scolded.

Hunter laughed. "Alright, alright. Kashyyyk had its charms, though."

Miria walked to her room to get her new clothes. The holo-projector on the dresser had new images that rolled through now, flickering from her infancy to her last visit. Currently it was her sitting alone by the pond, the dying sunlight turning her into a silhouette. There was space in the frame for more, for the Batch and her family. For Crosshair and Mayrin.

She picked up the dress Aram had laid out for her and went to scrub her misadventures off her skin. Plo Koon's voice followed her, an echo of when she'd been a padawan struggling to find her way.

"If this is the path you wish, padawan mine, then pick yourself up and begin again. Are you ready?"

"Yes Master. I can do it."

A pink sundress didn't seem like an act of rebellion, even with her freshly washed and dried tac vest over it. Still Miria sat on the porch with a cup of tea, watching the sunrise over the flower fields like a soldier surveying her terrain.

"You smell better. Still look like osik, but it's an improvement." Irene chuckled, sitting down next to her. "You been up all night?"

"Yes. I wanted to… reflect." Miria said quietly. "I'm sure you think I've been stupid and stubborn, to wait until I'm on death's door to consider this."

"A little. But I'm guessing you had a reason."

"I'm afraid." Miria admitted. "All my life I've been told a Jedi doesn't fear, and I've tried to live it."

"They had their good points, and their dumb ones. The Sith are the same." Irene shrugged. "But what scares you?"

"Failure. If I take this step, there's no return. If I accept the… the darkness within me, as you say. If it's not an intruder to fight, but a part of me, then there's only three outcomes. If I succeed, I'll be whole. That's wonderful… more than I ever dared hope for. If I fall, I'll die. I don't fear death, though. The third outcome… It terrifies me."

"And what's that?" Irene knew the answer, she was pretty sure. But Miria needed to say it.

"When I was tortured on Kamino, Darth Vader showed me a vision. The outcome he wanted. In it, I was an Inquisitor. I was cold, hard as durasteel. A machine in which no parts complained, but empty. I… killed Crosshair."

"That's cruel, even for a Sith." Irene shook her head. "But do you really think you're weak enough to fall? You've proven otherwise."

"Have I?" Miria snorted. "I was the weak padawan, who struggled to master anything in the Force. I only kept to the code as long as I did because I knew nothing better. Until the Batch, I was alone. It's easy not to have attachments when nobody wants you."

"The code isn't a testament to strength. Don't look at the body that fails you. Look at su runi, your soul. Why did you join the war?" Irene was unusually gentle now, making her point in a way the younger woman would understand.

"To protect my students…" Miria frowned. It was hardly as noble in her mind as those who fought for freedom and democracy, but it had been her reason.

"And why did you stay when it got hard? You'd have been within your rights to return to the Temple, considering your health."

"The Batch. I couldn't abandon them when they wouldn't abandon me."

"And why you haven't come back to the farm to stay? Even if you don't do this, it'd be a more comfortable place to die." Irene's native bluntness returned. "You want something so badly that you'd rather fight to the death than give up on it."

Miria looked dead ahead, brow furrowed. "Yes… Crosshair. I thought I'd… be content with a last goodbye. But I'm not. I want a hello. A beginning, something that can't be snatched away. I want a future. I want Mayrin."

"Mayrin?" Irene raised an eyebrow.

"Our daughter.” Miria whispered. “I've… seen her in the Force. She said I needed hope. She was right…"

Irene nodded. "If you die, there won't be a Mayrin. And the rest of the Batch will follow you to your grave shortly. Including your ram'ser."

Miria looked at Irene. "If I don't try, she'll never live. I've been paralyzed by the fear of failure, but… I have to try."

"I've been waiting for you to say that." Irene stood up, offering Miria a hand. "Come on. Your pain ends as it began."

Miria took the Mandalorian’s hand and was hauled to her feet, leaving her still-steaming teacup on the porch. "Where are we going?" She asked as Irene led her to a smaller barn in the back of the property.

"My ship. The Jai'galaar."

"Shreik-hawk…" Miria whispered.

"Yup. And you’ve been practicing your Mando’a. The shriek-hawk was the Symbol of Clan Vizla, before a bunch of deranged cultists made us look bad." Irene opened the barn door. There was a forge smelter in the corner and she grabbed something off it before opening the hatch of a sleek black ship. "It was mine when I was Darth Imperia."

Miria stepped aboard, leaning on the wall to catch her breath at the steep ramp. Irene patted her back as she got her bearings. The inside of the ship definitely matched her idea of what a Sith would fly; dark metal studded with glowing red buttons and inscriptions in a language she coldn’t read but gave her a weird feeling. It was a small gunship, designed to be maneuverable. The cargo hold was essentially a closet in the back of the cockpit, with a claustrophobic fresher and bunkroom barely bigger than a closet. The ramp had opened directly into the cockpit, so Miria eased into the co-pilot’s seat beside Irene as the older woman guided the ship out of the barn before the wings unfolded. It was a rapid and surprisingly silent ascent. “I expected the engines to be louder for such an old ship, Aunt Irene.”

“It’s a stealth ship, and I’ve taken care of it and upgraded it over the years. The Jai’galaar will outfly that Omicron of yours, no matter how many modifications Tech and Echo slap on. And it can cloak.” Irene bragged. “That’s been pretty useful getting around the galaxy under the Empire’s nose collecting beskar. I’ve been busy.”

Miria nodded, rubbing her chest. “Perhaps I should have worn my armor, instead of a dress?”

“You won’t need it where we’re going.” Irene assured her as they broke the atmosphere of Naboo and hit hyperspace.

“And where is that?” Miria rubbed the leather of her thigh bag thoughtfully.

“Thule. There’s more than one Sith Temple there, but the one in the City of Hurom should do just fine.”

Before Miria could express her misgivings about going to a Sith Temple, there was a squawk and startle from the hold behind them. “A Sith Temple!?”

Irene froze, looking at her niece with faint horror in her eyes. “Is that…”

“Aram?” Miria blinked back at her. “I think so.”

Irene groaned and walked over, opening the hold door. Aram’s lanky figure was crouched inside, where he’d been clearly trying to keep himself from falling over when they started moving. “Har’chaak, Aram! What are you doing on my ship?!”

“Well, I was looking for that holocron I heard you mention the other day. Now I’m apparently going on an adventure.” He shrugged.

Miria raised an eyebrow at her aunt. “You have a Sith holocron?”

“I have a lot of old relics.” Irene sighed. “Dammit, Aram. I was not planning on taking you for this.”

“But I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure with you. You won’t let me come on the beskar roundup.” The young man smiled, scooting past her to sit on the floor between the pilot and co-pilot’s seats.

“You’d better listen to every word I say.” Irene growled.

“Of course, Buir.” He gave her a cheeky smile. "So why are we taking Miri to Thule? She's kind of…"

"Dying?" Miria chuckled. "This would be a last ditch effort to save my life. It's why I returned to Naboo."

"Oh good. I'd miss you." He leaned against her leg. Her skin was mottled with bruises and she had to carefully pat his hair to avoid getting her braces tangled in it.

"I'd miss you too, Aram. I'm not ready to die yet." She paused to cough into her elbow before looking at Irene with watery eyes. "Will you make me a promise? Both of you?"

"Of course." Aram said immediately. Irene nodded.

"If I fail…" Miria said slowly. "If I am consumed by the Dark Side, you must kill me. I can stand the thought of dying as long as I tried my best. But I can't let myself become something that hurts others. So if it comes to that, I need you to protect them. From me, if you must."

Aram looked horrified. Irene reached over and put a hand on his arm. "You have my word as a Mandalorian."

"How do I thank you in Mando’a? I haven't learned as much as I'd like… Crosshair and I never had the time."

"Vor entye, ner ba'vodu." Aram looked at his mother. "It's 'thank you, my aunt or uncle'."

"Vor entye, ner ba'vodu." Miria repeated. "If I succeed, will you teach me more? I'd like to surprise Crosshair… I think he'd like that."

"When, not if. I'll have you so fluent you blow your troopers mind." Her cousin promised.

"You haven't even met him and you want to play a prank on him?" Miria smiled.

"He did make you cry. But you love him, so the policy is to confuse instead of abuse."

"You'll love him too. I'm sure of it." She flexed her hands, looking at the braces. She ached to put her ring back on…

"You look sad again." Aram nudged her.

"It's alright, Aram." She breathed.

They sat in silence, Miria watching the lights in hyperspace for a long time. Slowly she smiled and fumbled into a small bag she'd been carrying on her hip, one he saw her with everywhere. It was sturdy leather, decorated with stars and moons. He couldn't resist eying it appreciatively, his love for fashion and accessories shining through. "Where'd you get that?"

Miria chuckled. "It was just a sachel from the Temple… but Crosshair took one of my doodles and traced it into the leather." She rubbed the design gently with her numb fingers. "When I joined the council. We'd just celebrated our first anniversary together… I had to be in meetings for hours, and I guess he got bored. Boredom was dangerous for that man… but sometimes he could use it constructively." She opened it and pulled out a sheet of flims

"I keep my favorite of his letters and my lightsaber in it when I'm off the Marauder. "

"Letters. That's almost romantic." Irene smirked.

"He was never good at talking about his feelings. But he could write them." Miria smiled. "Could I share this one with you? I think… I'd like to remember what I'm fighting for. Sometimes it's hard to recall, after Kamino…"

Irene nodded. Aram looked starry-eyed as she pulled the flimsi out and read it aloud.

"Ner kar'ta

We just left your Temple, and you're down in the hold with the others while I'm on watch. Usually you come sit with me, but today you're all fired up over getting to see your creche kids. You took us to meet them, and teach the younglings about the GAR. I never figured I'd be in a kid's classroom again after I graduated basic, but I think I like teaching more than I did being a student. Maybe it's the way you Jedi treat the kids… it's a lot different than how we were treated.

You looked so good with those kids. You look good anywhere, but with them you looked more in your element than any battlefield. And they loved you. Toddlers crawling in your lap, older kids wanting to hug you and show you everything they were doing… I've never seen you so naturally do anything. You're not just good with kids. You're great.

I keep thinking about what you said right after the mission on Tattooine. Before I gave you that ring, the first time you mentioned us getting married. I always knew you'd want kids, ever since we met Cut and Suu. But now that it's really official, I run it over in my head constantly. That you're really mine. That you'll be my wife. That we might have our own kids… I know how I am. I know what war made me, and I wonder if I'm kidding myself that it's possible more than one person could ever see more than that in me the way you do. I look at you and see a kid in your arms, and wonder if they'll hate me.

Then I hear your voice, just like on Tattooine. 'What if they love you?'

Before I met you I thought I liked being alone. I was used to it, because I stayed in trouble as a cadet. I ended up in solitary a lot. 99 tried to bail me out way more often than I deserved. And the guys always waited for me, but I never wanted them to know just how much I hated it in there. I don't like admitting stuff bothers me. You've heard it before, weakness was used against you. But you see through me. You knew I was lonely long before you were mine. And now that you are, and we've got all these plans, I think I get it. I didn't like being alone like I thought. It was just easier.

I'm not taking the easy way out now. If you think they'll love me, and if they're half of you, then I believe it. Maybe some of what 99 was teaching me sank in. I hope so… and I hope our kid has your eyes.

Crosshair"

As Miria read the letter, something shimmered behind Aram and she glanced up.

A silver haired toddler with her little thumb in her mouth was smiling at Miria, too-long sleeves pushed up her arms. She was wavery, struggling to hold her form with how weak Miria was, but Mayrin was there and listening.

He gets his wish, if this works. She has my eyes… Miria thought, looking at the face of her future. Crosshair’s tanned skin and wider nose, her eyes, his hair, her petite figure, his smile…

"What are you staring at?" Aram turned his head, seeing nothing in the spot his cousin was watching so intently.

"Tomorrow." Miria smiled.

Mayrin giggled quietly, and Miria knew they couldn't see her. She wished they could, just so she could proudly tell them that this little spirit in the Force was her daughter. That her love for Crosshair made something so beautiful it could transcend birth to bring her hope when she was fading. She wondered if Mayrin would remember these moments when she came into the world, like some dream of the time before her existence. When. Not if.

Irene watched her face thoughtfully. Whatever her niece was seeing, she loved it. It echoed bright through the Force like a full moon over placid water, reflecting and soft but clear. Miria once told her that the clone she was missing said her Force signature felt like moonlight…. He had a point.

"Coming up on Thule." She murmured. "Ready, Miri?"

"As I will ever be." Miria straightened her back. "If this works, I will finally have the strength to rescue Crosshair from the Empire."

"What if it doesn't work…?" Aram frowned.

"Then I don't suppose the Empire will be my problem anymore." Miria murmured. "Either I succeed, I fail and die, or I fall and you two kill me. A 33 percent chance of sucess." Her lips twitched into a slow smile. "As the Bad Batch like to say… I like those odds.

Irene set them down carefully just outside a ghostly empty city, more than half of it consumed by the massive black Temple of Hurom. "Spooky…" Aram frowned.

"Sith seers used to gather here. They foretold the Clone Wars here, and studied dark side prophecy, before the Rule of Two." Irene explained. "The holocron I've got came from here." She led them out, leaving the blaster on her hip and instead gripping the black hilts of her twin sabers. "Stay close."

Miria left her sachel but took her own saber, clutching the recurved hilt tightly. She'd always chuckled to herself about her design, inspired by the archaic paintings of Nabooian archers she'd seen when she was a youngling. How fitting, she supposed, that she'd fallen in love with a sniper. He'd make a fine archer too, if he ever took an interest.

She stayed close to Irene's back, Aram right behind her. She wondered if he had any combat experience… he was half Mandalorian, surely Irene had taught him something. The hallways twisted and turned, dark stone and dimly lit and ominous braisers all the light they had to see by. But Irene knew the way, huge as this place was.

She guided them straight into a massive hall, with a raised dais in the middle of the room. The kind of place to expected to find a helpless virgin tied up as a sacrifice. "Go up the steps, Miria. You'll know what to do. We got your back." Irene murmured.

Miria nodded, hooking her saber back to her hip. She took a shaking breath, willing every ounce of her fading strength not to fail her now. For Crosshair. For Mayrin. My team, and my family. She mounted the steps.

It went pitch black.

Miria went still as a slow light rose behind her, turning slowly. A tiny figure appeared, facing away from her. A child, sobbing bitterly into her hands, was crouched and helpless. The misery, abject despair and loneliness rolling off the tiny figure was suffocating within the Force. "Mayrin?" Miria frowned.

"No!" The girl's voice was raw, as if she'd been screaming. "You love her but you don't love me! Nobody loves me!"

Miria froze when the child whipped around, tearful eyes lost and terrified. She had black hair with a tuft of white in the cut of a Jedi youngling, dressed in a fur-lined coat and mittens. Those were soaked in blood, fingers poking through and torn open. The child's eyes were lavender.

She's… me. On Illum…

"Nobody wants me because I'm broken now." Baby Miria sobbed. "Not Aayla. Not my best friend! Nobody! You don't even want me! You forced me away. Pretended I'm not here so you can be a perfect Jedi! That's why you got sick!"

Miria stared at her child self before slowly easing onto her knees. "You… are my fear and sorrow… aren't you, little one?" She murmured. Her fears that she'd shoved down, desperate to prove herself worthy of the Temple. The pain of being left, the fear that no one would ever again value her. It stared back at her with her own eyes, demanding to be recognized. She had been so afraid of being abandoned again that she'd abandoned this part of herself into the darkness she tried to lock away.��

"You didn't want me. Nobody wants me. You tried to kill me so nobody would know." The child whispered. "Are you going to kill me now so you can be a perfect Jedi?"

Miria shook her head. "I was never perfect, little one." She held a hand out, shaking fingers gentle. "But it's not true that nobody wants you."

"W- what?" The girl wiped her tears on her bloody mittens.

"We meet wonderful people." Miria smiled. "The best friends in the galaxy. And they know we're broken, but they love us anyway. We find a man who sees all of the imperfections, and he still wants us. Come here, please."

"Why?" The youngling looked suspicious.

"When we’re together, I can show you all the love I didn't give you before. I'm sorry I hurt you." Miria whispered. "I hurt us both." She held her arms open wide.

Her fear ran into them and Miria embraced her tightly, squeezing her little body. She saw the path she could have trod, where she could have failed. How many Jedi would have struck down the child inside them if they knew it was their darkness? Before Kashyyyk, she might have.

The child faded into her chest, and Miria started to stand when she heard a hiss. "How touching."

She looked up, again into her own eyes. This time it wasn't a child, but a grown woman in a solid black Imperial uniform. This version of her looked furious and disgusted instead of afraid. Her anger, the carefully controlled rage she'd always leashed, was snarling at her. Miria stood. "Inquisitor." She murmured politely as she understood the magnitude of the task at hand.

"Master." The vision huffed sarcastically. "Pathetic. You're weak, you should have died out on Illum and let me lead the way. Instead, you ruined everything! You couldn't even kill Trench yourself. At least Anakin had the guts."

"Anakin became a Sith." Miria said firmly.

"Anakin was fighting for the power to save the woman he loved. What did you do? You had Crosshair right there on Kamino. And you left him!" Her fury sneered. "He was right, in that training room. You left him. You weren't loyal to him, because your precious morals mattered too much. The jedi that left us for twenty years! You deserve your fate, and I hope it hurts. You sat around thinking you were so great, forgiving everyone. Ventress was the reason 99 died. Aayla abandoned us. And what did you do? Nothing! Because you're pathetic!" She took a looming step towards Miria, eyes burning. "Now the Empire will kill Crosshair, the only good thing we ever really had!"

Miria stood her ground. It would be so easy to attack, to reject her anger and force it to yield. To scream back that she'd had no choice, that she'd had to leave him. But she locked eyes with her mirror image. "We can save him."

"How? By forgiving Vader for maiming us when you rejected his offer?" The vision hissed. "That power could have protected him!"

"We already have the power, if we're whole." Miria murmured. "You're not just my anger. You're doubt as well. But together, we're strong enough to bring him home."

"If you'd had the guts to fight Vader on Kamino, he'd be home."

"We can't change the past. But we can direct the future. Don't you want to see Mayrin?" Miria coaxed. Even this, her darkest impulses, still loved Crosshair. She could feel the desperate desire in the Force, the rage that so much had been snatched away. The second guessing of every decision since Kaller and beyond, her self loathing blaming her for the agony.

"Of course I do…" For a moment, the Inquisitor's clenched fists relaxed. "I'm selfish. I want them both. I'd burn the galaxy to the ground for them… more than you'd do. You don't care."

"You know I care. Remember Raxus?" Miria smiled softly.

"... we were angry." Her rage whispered.

"We snapped at Omega. And regretted it. But… if we worked together, wouldn't it be enough? Couldn't we save him?"

The Inquisitor looked askance. "... will I stop existing?" She whispered. "Will you?"

"We've always been a part of each other. We've just never worked together before. If we've nearly killed ourselves fighting each other, imagine what we could accomplish together?" Miria held her hand out.

The Inquisitor slowly reached out. "I want to destroy the empire for taking him away…"

"I think destroying them is the right thing to do. For more than one reason." She grasped the gloved hand and yanked her rage into her arms, hugging her tightly. "Come home, so he can too."

The vision hugged her back. "Bitch…"

"Crosshair’s right. It does sound wrong when we swear."

They both laughed, fading into each other until Miria was hugging her arms around herself, giggling helplessly.

"Miri! Miria!"

She opened her eyes, startled. She wasn't standing like she thought she was, but laying on her back still hugging herself, on the Sith dais. The voice calling her was high and worried, and a humming sound she didn't immediately recognize filled the air.

A lightsaber. Aram and Irene!

She sat bolt upright, spotting her aunt and cousin back to back and surrounded by a thick smoke full of peering eyes. "What the hell is this, Buir?!" Aram sounded both terrified and furious, holding a handful of slender needles he'd pulled from Force knows where.

Irene had her sabers up, the white light from the purified crystals holding the smoke at bay for now. "Sith spirits." She gritted her teeth. If Miria had fallen, they'd be hard pressed to keep their promise. If her niece was a Sith now, these tormented souls bound to the Force and temple would do her bidding and try to kill them. Irene didn't particularly want to test her meddle against a duelist like Miria with the power of the Dark Side at her command.

Miria stood, walking towards them purposefully and with something unreadable in her eyes too far away for Irene to see the color. Aram swallowed hard. "Miria."

The little woman looked at her hands a moment, furrowed her brow, before extending her arms. The gathered darkness rumbled with momentary excitement before Miria's voice, stronger than her kin had ever heard and woven with power, thundered out.

"They are mine!"

A brilliant purple light flashed up, forcing the inky darkness back a step. When Miria descended the steps, her eyes met Irene's. Bright eyes, alive and forceful and lavender as the setting sun.

Miria flexed her hands and snatched, the support columns around the room coming loose under her control. They broke and fell, Miria marching through the screaming shadows as the braisers tipped and the tapestries on the wall caught fire. When she reached Irene and Aram, Miria smiled. "I think it's time for us to go."

Irene nodded, grinning. "Follow me."

They took off at a breakneck pace, Miria keeping pace even with Aram's long legs. When they reached the ship, the temple was burning behind them to the sound of the screams of the damned. Irene slid into the pilots seat and hurriedly yanked them into orbit. "Did you have to set it on fire, Miri?"

The jedi laughed softly. "I'm terribly sorry, Aunt Irene. But it was a dreadful place that had outlived its use."

"Spoken like a Mandalorian." Smiled the woman, punching the coordinates into the navi-computer before turning to face Miria. Her warm, dark eyes softened on the younger woman beside her, who was smiling contentedly. "You did it…"

"Can somebody explain to me what you did?" Aram squawked indignantly. "From where I was standing you flopped over and started twitching, then giggled, and we got attacked by shadow monsters that felt like noxious gas in the Force itself!"

Miria patted his arm. "Sorry, dear. It's…. Rather difficult to describe. I saw myself, first as a frightened child and then as an angry adult. And I made peace with both of them."

"Your dark emotions." Irene mused. "I'd wondered how it would play out. How'd you get through to them?"

"The creche and Omega taught me all about how to tend to frightened younglings." Miria chuckled. "And everything I know about diffusing angry adults, I learned from Crosshair."

"He's good at handling pissed off people?" Aram raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Force no. He's good at being, and causing pissed off people." Miria laughed. "My darling is nothing if not intentionally antagonistic when he wants to be… like a tooka, not getting enough attention so it pushes your glass off the table while looking you dead in the eyes. "

Irene laughed so hard she snorted, holding her ribs. "I thought you loved this guy!"

Miria smiled. "I do. Love is the willingness to pick the broken glass off the floor and still pet the tooka afterwards."

Aram smiled. "I'm gonna tell him you said that."

"After all he's put me through since Kaller, he's going to have to deal with that. And I just might keep his Firepuncher." Miria chuckled. She looked at Irene. "Aunt Irene… you spoke earlier like you… knew what was happening."

Irene smiled sheepishly. "Kind of did. That holocron I mentioned… it was about you."

"Me?" Miria’s brows scraped her hairline. "I'm the subject of a Sith holocron?"

Irene nodded and looked at Aram. "Go grab it, since you were so curious earlier that you ended up on this crazy mission. Honestly, Aram. You thought you could fight Sith spirits with your hairpins?"

"They're sebon needles, Mom. And what were your lightsabers going to do? They were glorified glowsticks."

"I'm about to glorify something on your shebs, ner ad." She huffed.

Miria sighed. "Luubid."

That startled them enough to look at her. "You sure you need me to teach you Mando’a?"

She smirked. "I will not tell you how I learned that word. Now, that holocron please?"

Aram grumbled and got up to go get it. Irene looked at Miria. "Did you have pants on when you learned that word?"

Miria smirked. "Briefly."

Irene howled with laughter until Aram came back with the Bleecker pyramid shaped holocron and his mother took it. "Alright. Here goes nothing." She pulled a small knife from her thigh and pricked her thumb with it, offering the device a drop of blood. It opened, slow and ominous, and a hissing voice poured out that set everyone's teeth on edge.

"Upon the dawning of our Era, a broken light will come to the temple seeking to be whole. Never were they truly belonging to the hearts that raised them, but to the blood of an ancient enemy of the Jedi. Love will be the death of duty, and lead the Broken Light to the darkness. They will face a trial, with only three outcomes. If they strike down their inner darkness, death will take them and they trouble us no more. If the darkness wins, a Sith more powerful than any before will be unleashed and create an Empire that will never end. But brethren, if balance should prevail, the temple that has stood for over a thousand years will fall before the end of the Broken Light's lifetime!"

Irene snapped the holocron closed "I've been pondering over that for over thirty years. My master had me steal it when I was young… he was obsessed with prophecy. I didn't realize it was about you until months after you came to Naboo the first time. And I knew if I tried to push it before you were ready, or influence how you took the trial, it could cause you to fail."

Miria stared at the black pyramid in her hands. "That's why you didn't want anyone to know we were leaving, and why you agreed to kill me so readily. You already knew you might have to."

Irene nodded. "I knew your squad couldn't do it. They love you too much to pull the trigger. Argais too. Annalise and Jet might be physically capable of it, don't let the little farm wife and perfumery aesthetic fool you. She can throw knives and needles, and he's a mechanic with a working battle mech in the shed. But you're their daughter… it had to be me."

Miria looked consideringly at the top of Irene's bowed head. She'd taken on the burden of Miria’s fate, right alongside her. Even if it meant breaking her own heart or damaging her relationship with the rest of the family… Miria put her hand on her aunt's shoulder. "Thank you." She murmured.

Aram cocked his head. "Ba'vodu has a mech in the shed? I want to touch it."

"For the love of Manda, stop touching everything!" Irene groaned. "You're worse than your father!"

Aram grinned, happy to needle his mother now that the danger was past. Miria vacated the co-pilots seat for him, going to the hold and sitting quietly on the floor with her legs crossed. She flexed her fingers, rubbing the fabric of her dress.

I wonder…

Force healing was a rare gift, and one she'd never had the strength to learn. But she always watched Master Che when she was in the halls of healing, the kindly twi'lek patching her up from her most recent misadventure.

"You can, Mama." A sweet voice cooed, and she turned to look at Mayrin with a smile.

The girl was a little older now, more than a toddler and dressed in a miniature set of blacks. Miria chuckled at the way she stood, hips cocked and sassy. Just like her father. "Well then. Let's give it a try." She murmured.

She put her hands together, as if praying, and called out to the Force as respectfully as she knew how. If it would grant her the strength, let her ruined hands feel again so that one day they could reach out and touch her beloved's face once more…

Please. Let my hands be his to hold.

It was a faint purplish light, though Miria didn't see it with her eyes squeezed closed. But she felt the cool touch like running water in the desert, blessed and sustaining. And the first thing her hands had truly felt since the agony of Vader's saber had subsided. She opened her eyes and blinked.

The angry scars persisted, but when she pressed her palms to the floor the texture of the grit there greeted her. She rubbed the tracked-in dirt between her fingers, delighted and overwhelmed tears pricking her eyes.

"Mayrin…" She whispered. "I'll hold your hand one day, I swear. And your father's…"

"Good, Mama." The girl giggled. "He wants to come home… he's just real stubborn."

"Oh…. I'm certain." Miria smiled, tugging her braces off. They skittered in the metal floor where she'd dropped them, but she ignored the sound in favor of pulling the cord from her neck and bringing her ring out of the pouch. The silver was cool against her skin when she slipped the ring back on. It belonged there, it would warm again. "But I'm stubborn too."

"Good." Mayrin grinned. "You gonna need it."

#eventual smut #explict #orginal character #crosshair #crosshair smut #clone force 99 #the bad batch #chronic illness #caught in the crosshairs

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

Text

Game of Thrones - 71 JON IX (pages 747-759)

Jon tries to quit the Black, only to be reminded that retirement in this line of work comes with a body bag, and that his friends are awesome. Mormont reveals the plan for a team trip north for zombie investigations.

When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear's breakfast from the kitchen, they'd look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless, Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son's disgrace. that seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn't be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he was betraying someone. Even now he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing.

That really is the hardest park to translate to screen, motive and internal conflict. Like, you can have a character talk out loud, whether to an animal or to themselves, but there's always that weirdness of hearing what you know would be an internal dialogue.

Even the best actors can only really show that there is something going on inside, but even then it's more vague alignment and vibes "this character feels negatively about choice A" but that doesn't necessarily give you the 'why' of it.

He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he'd need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail.

roughspun = 🥛

He was who he was; Jon snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life - however long that might be - he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man's hand be raised against him.

Knowing (thanks to the show) about Jon Targaryen. Wow, that's a parallel/foreshadow-in-hindsight that smacks you in the face with all the grace of a dead fish.

but also now I need a copy of that guy in the corner of the party saying 'they don't know [thing]' meme, but with Jon as the guy in the corner of the party "they don't know i'm jon snow" (it would be, the nichest of memes.)

"You said the words," Pyp reminded him. "Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death." "I shall live and die at my post," Grenn added, nodding. ... "I am the sword in the darkness," Halder intoned. "The watcher on the walls," piped Toad. (...) Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, "I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realm of men." ... Matthar circled behind him. He joined the chorus. "I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch." Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side. "For this night..." Halder trotted in from the left. "... and all the nights to come," finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon's reins. "So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me."

This was one of my favourite scenes in the early show, ngl, the boys standing around Jon reciting their vow to the watch. I do like that there's actually more than just Grenn and Pyp (and Sam in the show only) coming after him, (Halder says seven, though I only saw 5 names). I also really like the imagery of them surrounding Jon on their horses while Jon turns to see them all. It really drives home that, even though Jon spends/spent a lot of time on his high horse, he has more people around him who care about him than he realises.

In the show it's presented more as a chase, with Jon stopping and coming back because Sam was knocked off his horse, but in the book it's more... Jon stopped to hide as the others caught up and he was forced to face them.

It felt like Show!Jon was always going to do "the right thing" he just needed a reminder, but book!Jon was seriously struggling with it, and really did need help to make the decision, and even afterwards he isn't 100% sure it was the right thing even though he knows it was the only choice, to go back to the Wall.

Jon opened a shuttered window, took a flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon with his beer every day, and claimed it was why he still had his own teeth.

🍋=🥛

"- Aemon told me you'd go. I told him you'd be back. I know my men... and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad... and honor brought you back." "My friends brought me back." Jon said. "Did I say it was your honor?"

And this is one of my fav clapbacks.

It really does encapsulate though, that it wasn't Jon's choice to return, it wasn't a hero wavering then choosing the right path, it was a boy struggling with himself, it was his friends helping him. (Whether he wanted that help or not.)

And the fact that Mormont knew Jon was a flight risk? just, *chef's kiss*

"All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it's said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours... he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jarmey would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jarmey is dead and I'm not."

"All I know is that the blood of Protagonists flows in the veins of the Starks." It's true, and if left unchecked, some of them can develop a serious case of Plot Armour. (Not to be confused with having skills and luck which are well matched to the situation at hand.)

"By custom, the Lord Commander's steward is his squire as well... but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you've run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night's Watch... or only a bastard playing at war?" Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran... forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. "I am... yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again."

There we go, now it's Jon's choice, now he's made his decision.

Though I will admit, the mean part of me is taking very strong note that he's made this choice only now after being offered the chance to go North of the Wall which is what he's been trying to do since he got there.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #jon snow #a chapter a day reading #got

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 10 months

Text

No Shadow Without Light - Ch2

Chapter Two: New Friends

Chapter One

Summary: Honoria makes a new friend while her relationship with Sebastian grows more complicated. Quidditch tryouts loom, and the answers to Anne’s curse may lie within reach.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

—

Honoria opened her mouth to ask what their defense against the dark arts teacher wanted, but Sebastian turned on his heel and walked on. “Let’s go.”

She had to trot to keep up with his long strides. “Is anything the matter?”

“Tryouts went well, I take it?” Sebastian didn’t look at her, and his voice held that same clipped edge.

“What’s with that tone?” She couldn’t keep the indignation from her own voice.

“What tone?”

—

Honoria first realized that her new Ravenclaw “friends” were going to be problem when she was on her way to the library. Her arms were laden with several books, and she had almost made it to the library door when the Ravenclaw girls appeared. One was tall and lanky, with dirty blond hair. The other was shorter, round, with hair as black as the animal of her house. Honoria vaguely knew them; they were in the year above her and were the same girls she and Poppy had seen on the Hogwarts Express.

Instead of walking past her, the girls split to walk on each side of Honoria, winging her shoulders with their own as they shoved to get past. The books tumbled from her hands and Honoria stopped with a sigh. She glanced over her shoulder at the girls. The tall one laughed, the shorter one just sneered at her. Saying nothing, Honoria bent down to retrieve her books.

“Are you all right? Here, let me help.”

Honoria didn’t recognize the voice, and looked up to find a pair of bright blue eyes looking at her. They belonged to a Hufflepuff boy Honoria had not met properly, but she recognized his messy blonde curls and freckled cheeks. He was a fellow Hufflepuff in the year above her. Reeves, she’d hear him called.

“Thank you.”

“I’m Oliver, by the way. Oliver Reeves.”

“Honoria Dashwood.”

“Of course,” said Oliver, pink blooming beneath his freckles. “Everyone know the Hero of Hogwarts.”

“Just Honoria is fine.”

“What did you do to get on Millicent and Cynthia’s bad side?” Oliver asked, looking at the retreating Ravenclaws.

“Took a breath, I suppose,” said Honoria with a shrug. “I have too much studying to do to care, to be honest.”

“I’m on my way to the library, too. Shall we?”

Oliver gestured toward the door and fell into step beside her. “Great news about Quidditch this year. Tryouts are next week - are you going?”

“I am, actually. I’ve never played, but I’m rather good on a broom.”

Oliver smiled. “Yes, I think we’ve all heard Imelda’s frustrations at you beating her times last year.”

That earned a grin from Honoria. “Just barely.”

“That’s all it takes.” Oliver pushed open the library door, waiting for Honoria to go through first. “See you later, yeah?”

Honoria only nodded in response as Oliver made his way through the bookshelves. She found a free table that afforded a little privacy. As she spread out her books, she noted the butterflies in her stomach that had accompanied her walk with Oliver. Those left her feeling very confused, indeed.

After a few hours studying for her real classes, Honoria turned her attention to what she had truly come to the library for: ancient magic. In the chaos of Ranrok’s threat last year, she hadn’t been able to pursue whether ancient magic could cure Anne Sallow’s curse. Honoria was certain it could, though not in the way Isidora Morganach might have tried. She had thought about it all summer, and Honoria was convinced that Rookwood had used some kind of corrupted ancient magic from the repository underneath Rookwood castle. In turn, surely the pure ancient magic that she could wield was the key to breaking it.

But figuring out how to do that, without going down the same path as Isidora, was going to be a challenge. She planned to ask the keepers, but at the moment their portraits were empty and she didn’t have time to waste. So she would scour the library, including the restricted section, for even the smallest reference to ancient magic.

A History of Rare Magics looked promising, and Honoria was so intent on the pages she skimmed that she didn’t hear footsteps behind her. Stifling a yelp at the hand on her shoulder, Honoria whirled around to see Sebastian behind her.

“What are you so engrossed in?” He asked, wearing that crooked smile she loved so much.

Honoria put a hand over her heart. “Just some research for history of magic, nothing exciting.”

She had decided early on that she wasn’t going to tell Sebastian what she was working on. It wouldn’t do to get his hopes up and then disappoint him if she couldn’t cure Anne.

He took the words at face value. “If you say so. I’ve just come from double potions. Thought it would be good to get some peace and quiet with a book for a while.”

They went back to Honoria’s table, but the way Sebastian was drumming his fingers on the top of his book suggested he wasn’t really interested in reading.

“Have you heard from Anne at all?” Honoria asked quietly. She still skimmed the pages of the book, looking for words relevant to her search.

“No. She’s written Ominis, so I know that she’s all right. She still doesn’t want to see me.” Honoria’s heart broke at his downtrodden voice.

“I’m sure she needs time, Sebastian. You can’t take back what happened, even if you have learned your lesson.”

“I know that.” Was he angry or sad? She couldn’t tell. “I will figure out how to cure her. Then maybe I can make her understand why I did what I did.”

Honoria barely heard him. Her attention was on the book. There it was. The reference she had been searching for, the one thing that might help her unlock the mystery of Anne’s curse. But she needed to talk to the Keepers.

“Honoria? Are you listening to me?”

Honoria snapped her book shut. “Sorry, Sebastian, I have to go.”

“You’re blowing me off for history of magic?”

“I’m sorry, Sebastian, but it’s important. I’ll talk to you later.”

Honoria could feel his stare boring into her as she gathered her books and rushed for the door.

—

The map chamber was empty. Honoria tried waiting, calling for the Keepers by name, and knocking on the portrait frames. She even fooled around with the ancient magic wand, hoping they might sense her mischief and come to scold her. Any attention would be welcome if she could just get them to speak with her.

Two hours later, nothing had worked and she risked missing out on dinner in the Great Hall. Heaving a sigh, she made her way up the stairs, all the while thinking of how she might contact the Keepers.

At the Hufflepuff table, she found herself sandwiched between Poppy and Adelaide, while Oliver had managed to sit opposite her with his own seventh year friends. Even from the other end of the Great Hall, she caught Sebastian looking at her, his face unreadable.

He probably thought she didn’t care about Anne anymore. That she had just moved on after dealing with Ranrok. Was he angry that she had yet to find a way to help his sister, that she wasn’t doing more to try and heal the rift between them?

With NEWT classes keeping them busy, it was hard enough finding time for friends. But if she was going to figure out how to use ancient magic to end Anne’s curse, it would take most of her free time. She would just have to hope that when Sebastian knew *why she was so busy, he would forgive her for seeming distant.

—

Quidditch tryouts were even more hectic than Honoria expected. After the sport had been canceled last year, everyone wanted to play. And though there were 3 chasers needed, the most of any position on the team, she had plenty of competition.

On her way down the pitch, where the other team hopefuls were gathering around the captain, she looked for Oliver. Guilt pricked at her for the thought, but she reminded herself that Sebastian hadn’t spoken to her about… whatever their relationship was. Maybe a summer apart had given him time to realize he didn’t want to be anything more than friends.

Honoria had to admit to herself that maybe she just enjoyed the attention. A kind smile from a handsome boy without thoughts of dying sisters or ancient magic to cast a shadow.

But there was no sign of the blonde curls or blue eyes she sought. Until she reached the rest of the Hufflepuff team, and got her first look at their Quidditch captain. He was all blonde curls and blue eyes and a smile that widened when he saw Honoria appear. Because of course he was.

Tryouts consisted of drills for each of the positions. For chasers, that meant practicing a few passes and making ten shots at the goals. They would be against the team’s current keeper, Captain Reeves, so he could assess their talent first hand.

Honoria scored 7 of the 10 shots she made. The other three were narrow misses, with Oliver only just managing to knock the quaffle away in time. “You’re definitely looking at a spot on the team. A little more practice and you might be unstoppable,” he told her.

Honoria stayed for the rest of the day, scoping out the competition and picking up pointers from those with more experience with the game. It was late in the afternoon when Oliver dismissed them, promising to let them know the results soon.

“Coming back to the common room?” Someone asked him.

He pointed to the wooden box at his feet. “Just need to take the equipment chest back.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Honoria volunteered. She almost regretted it. She only wanted to be nice.

Oliver flashed her his charming smile, and a flutter of butterflies returned to her stomach. But being around him was easier with the chest between them, carrying it up to Kogawa’s office.

Out of breath, they each sat their end down and straightened. Turning to each other to say thanks, there were now mere inches between them. Startled by the revelation, Oliver and Honoria both froze, looking awkwardly into each other’s eyes.

Oliver finally broke the silence. “I’ll post the roster in the common room tonight. I don’t think it will take long to make my decisions.”

“Right,” said Honoria, stumbling over the word. “Can’t wait.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Sebastian’s tight voice cut through the air. His jaw was clenched, and he had fixed Oliver with a narrow stare. “Honoria, professor Hecat is asking to see us.”

Oliver was cool in the face of Sebastian’s ire. “We just finished up, actually. See you later, Honoria.”

Honoria opened her mouth to ask what their defense against the dark arts teacher wanted, but Sebastian turned on his heel and walked on. “Let’s go.”

She had to trot to keep up with his long strides. “Is anything the matter?”

“Tryouts went well, I take it?” Sebastian didn’t look at her, and his voice held that same clipped edge.

“What’s with that tone?” She couldn’t keep the indignation from her own voice.

“What tone?”

Honoria scoffed. “Fine. Are you at least going to tell me why we’re being summoned by Professor Hecat?”

“Hecat wants to put on a dueling demonstration for the new first years. Thought we’d be a good choice to show off. We’re to go to her office for the details.”

A duel with Sebastian? Having an excuse to decimate him in front of an audience again was incredibly appealing right now. “Sounds fantastic,” she snapped.

—

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy mc #Sebastian sallow x oc

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thosewhoruleegypt · 2 years

Text

These Shadows Stretch Towards Home (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Characters/Ships: Puzzleshipping/Blindshipping (Atem/Yugi); Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Atem, Yugi, Thief King Bakura, Ryou Bakura, Malik Ishtar, Yami Malik, Priest Seto Kaiba, Jounochi Katsuya (ft. background Puppyshipping) Rating: M Length: Chapter 1 / ?; 4900 words

Summary:

A visitor comes to the Pharaoh Atem's palace—a young man armed with a mysterious staff and a grudge carved into his very bones.

With the Thief King and the Pharaoh stranded together in the Shadow Realm, it falls to Yugi and Ryou to reclaim the palace from Malik Ishtar—both Maliks, as if one wasn't enough to deal with.

Sequel to "For Love of Pharaoh and King" and "What Followed the High Priest Home"; "The Pharaoh's Lotus Garden" Parts I and II accounts for the time between each work. Can be read separately, but will make a heckuva lot more sense with context.

Full Story Begins Here! Read on AO3 Previous Chapter – Next Chapter (coming soon!)

note: Welcome aboard, or welcome back! This is officially the third “main” story of TWRE; I’d recommend starting at the beginning, but you do you. c: So delighted to have you here, especially after this AU has been dormant for close to four years. I dearly hope you enjoy!

"I'm Namu. Pleased to meet you!"

Yugi Mutuo blinked, surprised but nonplussed by the stranger in the Pharaoh's courtyard. When Yugi had spotted the boy, he'd approached without fear and asked the stranger's name. It wasn't unheard of for common folk to sneak into the palace grounds—or be admitted freely, for that matter. The day was temperate, the beauty of the palace's lush garden enhanced by the brilliant desert sunlight. Shadows, for the moment, seemed not to exist at all in the golden repose.

"Namu?" Yugi held out his hand. "I'm Yugi. Yugi Mutuo. Did you have some business, here at the palace?"

Namu's face brightened impossibly, and he grasped Yugi's hand. "The Great Royal Husband? It's an honor, my lord!"

Yugi fidgeted, then repeated, kindly, "Did you have some business, here? With Pharaoh, perhaps?"

Namu nodded emphatically. "I was so hoping to get an audience with the Pharaoh Atem... Would you please help me, Lord Mutou?"

Yugi nodded. "Of course... I'll... I mean, yes. Come along with me, and we'll see what we can do."

The boy calling himself Namu had sandy hair and pale skin—not exotically white like Ryou, but with the look of someone who hadn't spent time under the harsh desert sun. Perhaps a scribe, then, or a young priest, Yugi thought, leading Namu into the palace itself. He wore unremarkable clothes—slacks and a shirt that exposed his lean midsection. He had tasteful lines of makeup beneath his eyes, but was otherwise unadorned. At his hip hung a strange metallic rod—not a weapon, Yugi thought, but some sort of artifact. It might be able to do some damage if used to bludgeon an opponent, but that hardly designated the stranger as armed. For jewelry, Namu wore modest gold cuffs about his upper arms and a collar around his neck to match. A pendant hung, bumping against his narrow chest—the most ostentatious thing about him, without a doubt, a pyramid-shaped thing that seemed like it would be impractically heavy.

"Ah! Jounochi!" Relieved, Yugi flagged down his friend in the hallway. Namu, beside him, paused.

"Yugi!" Jounochi trotted over; observed the stranger. "Who's this?"

"Namu," Yugi said. "He says he has some business with Pharaoh. Namu, this is Jounochi."

"Nice t' meetcha!" Jounochi exclaimed, sticking out his hand. Namu shook it obligingly. "Call me Joey, if you'd rather. I'm High Priest Seto's consort."

Namu blinked. "Ah. The High Priest's consort, and the Pharaoh's Husband. You two are good friends, then?"

"The best!" Jounochi said, looping his arm around Yugi's shoulder.

"Jounochi, would you mind keeping Namu company while I go look for Pharaoh?" Yugi asked, gently disentangling himself. Even if this Namu is trouble, Jounochi is one of the best fighters in the palace. It should be safe to leave Namu under his watch while I talk to Pharaoh.

"No problem!" Jounochi said, switching his attention to the newcomer. "Where do you come from, man? I love the pendant! Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

As Namu tried to respond to the barrage of small-talk, Yugi slipped away with a polite farewell. Whether or not Jounochi realized why I did that... everything's under control, for now.

"Pharaoh?"

From the drowsy feel of Atem's mind, the Pharaoh had only just woken. "Partner? What is it?"

"Are you expecting anyone by the name of Namu?"

"?"

Yugi let Atem pursue his recent memories; said, "He doesn't seem like a threat, but I left him with Jounochi for now."

"You shouldn't go up to strangers like that, Yugi. You should call for guards to deal with it."

"And scare some poor kid half to death?" Yugi replied. "Our guards get a bit overzealous sometimes. You know that."

"Because they care, Yugi."

Yugi sighed; gave up, for the time being. "What do you want to do about this Namu?"

"Bakura is in the audience chamber. Let the boy talk to him, first."

Yugi gave a mental nod, then traipsed back to where Jounochi had kept Namu occupied. Namu looked up immediately when Yugi rounded the corner.

"The Pharaoh?"

Yugi shook his head. "Thief King Bakura hears complaints for him, usually. He'll decide if you need to see Pharaoh in person, or if your troubles can be dealt with a lower level."

Namu looked a bit perturbed, but nodded. "Alright. I'll go about it however the system dictates."

"Come on!" Jounochi called, motioning. "I'll bet Bakura has some good wine with him."

"Wine?" Namu questioned, bewildered, and Yugi shook his head apologetically.

"Do you drink, Namu?" Jounochi asked. "You should have a drink with us, later!"

"I don't... usually..." Namu murmured. "Except in the context of ritual..."

"A priest, then?" Yugi queried.

"Of sorts," was Namu's evasive reply.

"Hey, so the Thief King can be a bit... scary," Jounochi said, as they walked. "Just kinda depends on his mood. But that's just cause he gets off on watching people squirm, so don't be too alarmed, okay? He's actually a pretty good guy."

Yugi watched Namu for any notable reaction, but the newcomer only nodded seriously. "Thank you for the advice, Jounochi."

The room where Bakura fielded complaints was a simple but regal hall; the Thief King himself sat at one end, languidly lapping the juicy innards of a pomegranate off his fingers. The three boys entered from a side-passage, Yugi relieved to find the hall empty of visitors.

"Little Yugi!" Bakura stood to greet them; wiped his hands briskly on his robes. Yugi wondered where Ryou was, to scold him for his messiness. "What've you brought me?" he asked, with a nod to the stranger. "Tribute sacrifice?"

Namu stiffened, but Yugi shook his head. "This is Namu. He came to the palace hoping for an audience with Pharaoh."

"And the Pharaoh needs me to do his job again, eh?" Bakura asked, with a grin, then sat back down; he picked up the other half of his pomegranate and bit into it with a crunch. Yugi grimaced, wondering if he knew the rind wasn't usually eaten; knowing him, he might be fully aware or be oblivious. "Fine. Let's do this right, though—kid's gotta come 'round to this side and present himself properly, even if he was escorted here by the great Lord Yugi."

Jounochi nudged Namu with an encouraging murmur; the stranger edged forward. Yugi caught a curious, hostile flashing in his eyes as he looked at the Thief King; one glance at Bakura told Yugi that he had sensed something, too. But people were usually on edge around Thief King, so Yugi hardly considered that alone to be damnable.

Namu lowered himself slowly to his knees. "I present my troubles to the representative of the almighty Pharaoh Atem, with the utmost hope and faith."

Bakura nodded; gestured, with the hand that held the pomegranate. "Speak." His voice rumbled in his chest—not quite threatening, but powerful, certainly—the playfulness of a moment before gone.

Namu raised his head; said, "The Pharaoh has wronged my family."

Yugi stiffened, and Jounochi—trying to sneak the bottle of wine from behind Bakura's seat—came to attention.

Bakura's eyes widened fractionally. "Our Pharaoh? Or are you referring to the Pharaoh's line?"

It was a shrewd question. Egypt had been a deeply troubled place during the reign of Atem's father, and many of the lingering problems could be traced definitively to not Atem, but to Aknamkanon and his brother, Akhenaden. The idea that Thief King Bakura would draw such a distinction in this public forum surprised and pleased the Great Husband, and he felt himself smile.

A grimace flickered across Namu's face; was gone. "Both. What does that matter?"

Bakura shrugged. "All of Egypt was wronged by Pharaoh Aknamkanon. If that's the case, you're nothing special."

Namu stood abruptly, then faltered and took a step back. "Nothing special?"

The King of Thieves remained unimpressed. "Everyone in Egypt—myself for one, and even the current Pharaoh—suffered because of how the previous pharaoh handled things. If you're here to complain about a dead man's mistreatment of your family, I won't hear it. We have other, relevant things to deal with."

"Relevant?!" Namu demanded breathlessly, and Yugi came up beside the chair.

"Aren't you being a bit harsh?" he asked Bakura quietly, and the Thief King glanced over at him.

"I'm not. If I wanted to be harsh, little pharaoh-ling, you know it'd be worse than this." Then he turned, leaning back, and brought one foot up to rest on his opposite knee before addressing Namu. "Our current Pharaoh's fixed a lot of his father's mistakes, by now. There's prosperity—opportunity—everywhere. Again, if your complaint is with the current Pharaoh, I'll hear it. But if it's with his father or his uncle, reparations have already been made."

"My complaint is with the current Pharaoh," Namu said darkly, and Bakura held his gaze; the pomegranate, forgotten and slightly crushed in his grip, drizzled sticky scarlet down the length of his forearm.

"Then speak it. The Great Royal Husband brought you here personally, remember. Don't insult him by wasting all our time."

"I need to see the Pharaoh—Pharaoh Atem!" Namu snapped. "This is a waste of my time, this 'round in circles with you!"

"I represent Pharaoh Horus, in this hall," Bakura growled, and again Namu faltered. "If I judge it's worth his time, I'll summon the Pharaoh here myself. But if not, this is as far as you go."

Namu shifted, then reached for the rod that hung at his hip. He held it out. "Do you know what this is?"

"If it's a concealed blade, you won't make it out of here alive," Bakura said, and Namu shook his head.

"It's an artifact—an artifact my family has been tasked with protecting." The eye at the center of the rod's head began to glow, and Bakura stood. "You will call the Pharaoh here."

"Pharaoh!" Yugi reached out with his mind—found Atem, still groggy, and dragged their minds together. "Look at this!"

"What in Ma'at is that?" the Pharaoh breathed, even as he gathered context from Yugi's memories. "Artifact? Tasked with protecting? I don't know what any of that means!"

"You don't know who this Namu is, then?"

"Not a clue. I'm on my way, though."

"Pharaoh, don't! He's obviously trying to draw you out!"

Yugi's attention was drawn suddenly by a hoarse shout from the Thief King—Atem saw it, too, through Yugi's eyes, as Bakura fell to his knees. Ryou's ring—where it hung, always, around his neck—glowed a blinding lavender.

"What in Isfet?!" Namu grunted, and his feet, mysteriously, skidded an inch or so backwards. He held the rod out more insistently; Ryou's ring vibrated madly.

"Bakura!" Jounochi shouted, lunging for Namu. Namu swung the rod towards him, Bakura left to collapse as it's pressure vanished. Jounochi, conversely, froze; his body convulsed, eyes rolling back and glowing violet.

"Suit yourself!" Namu spat. "I'll just make you my puppet, then!"

Jounochi's body went limp, for a moment, and then spun on unsteady feet. He flew at Yugi, eyes blank and hands outstretched. Yugi shut Atem out of his mind even as he felt the Pharaoh begin to race towards the scene. Yugi allowed Jounochi to plow into him, but got his legs up between them; he kicked out against Jounochi's stomach as his own back hit the ground, and so threw the other boy up and over him. Bakura had regained his feet, by then, but still swayed unsteadily.

"Relevant!" the stranger snarled, swinging the rod like a club; Bakura threw his arms up to protect his head, but the blow still connected and made him stagger. Yugi felt Jounochi grab him from behind and thrashed as his arms were wrestled behind his back. "I'll show you relevant! This whole palace is under the control of Malik Ishtar, now!"

The guards... where are our guards?! Yugi thought frantically, head twisting toward the various entrances to the hall.

Namu—or Marik Ishitar, rather—laughed. “Can you hear it? The sounds of battle? The Pharaoh isn’t as universally loved as you may believe. Even now, my forces are attacking your perimeter—occupying your guards while I destroy you from within your own walls!”

"Pharaoh!" Yugi reached out again; he felt Atem mere rooms away, now, and racing ever closer. He had a dagger in his hand, and it occurred to Yugi that the Pharaoh had only the most remedial training in such weaponry. "The attack! It's a diversion!"

"They're everywhere, Partner! They came out of nowhere—underground, I think! Diversion or otherwise, they're doing serious damage already!"

"Malik... Malik Ishtar, he's...!"

"Ishtar?!"

Malik raised the second artifact—the upside-down pyramid that hung around his neck—and chuckled darkly. "And now... as the Pharaoh himself approaches..."

The pendant began to glow with the eerie purple light of the Shadow Realm. Atem appeared, frantic, throwing the doors of the hall wide.

"Get back, you fool!" Bakura snarled. "We're the fucking bait! Don't you get that?"

"Pharaoh! Run!" Yugi shrieked, even as Malik lifted the pendant higher.

"In the name of Shadows, Pharaoh, I banish you! Suffer, as I have, forever stranded in the darkness!"

"Yugi!" Bakura shouted over the rising and unnatural sound of wind—sand, too, materialized from nowhere, whipping about and stinging where it's grains struck exposed skin. "Separate your minds! You'll get caught up in the spell, too!"

Yugi didn't obey, but Atem heard and complied, severing their mental link violently enough to make Yugi cry out. Malik rounded on Bakura, lip drawn back.

"You can share his fate, Thief King! I won't forgive you for making such light of my family's pain!"

The pendant's glow intensified along with the forming gale around them; Yugi felt Jounochi stagger as the rod's light, conversely, faltered. Realizing that Malik was at some sort of a limit, Yugi called out to his friend, begged, "Jounochi! Jounochi, fight! Jounochi!"

Malik gave a furious snarl as the Jounochi staggered, his grip on Yugi slackening. Torrential sands had risen, engulfing both Atem and Bakura, and Malik's rod lost another bit of luminescence.

"Yu... gi...?" Jounochi asked blearily. Yugi kicked out and caught Jounochi's shin, making him yelp and stumble back.

"Run!" Yugi gasped out, finding himself back on his own feet. "Find Priest Seto and run! The palace is under attack—someone has to get away!"

"But—!" Jounochi began to object, then saw the Pharaoh Atem, with a cry, crumple. He grabbed Yugi's hands, swearing, "I'll be back! With help! I promise!" and then tore off.

Yugi felt a flutter of satisfaction as he watched Jounochi vanish, then turned and met Malik's furious gaze. The gale winds peaked, then began to quell; the sands that had swallowed up the Thief King and the Pharaoh fell, empty.

"Malik... Ishtar, was it?"

Malik pointed his rod toward the Great Royal Husband. "And for you too, Yugi Mutuo, infinite suffering. I'll see to it personally, and then send you to be with your beloved. I'll send you to him broken, and he'll suffer as I have. If he's still alive and sane, by then."

An odd golden light—the Eye of Anubis, Yugi thought, but couldn’t quite be sure—flickered on Malik’s forehead.

The doors of the hall began to open—not to reveal palace guards or servants, but to admit a rush of cloaked figures. Malik's rod glowed softly as he orchestrated their movement; bade them seize the Great Royal Husband, and had him dragged away.

... ... ...

Thief King Bakura slammed his fist, still sticky and red with pomegranate juice, into the dusty, lavender turf of the Shadow Realm. Atem, some ways from him, sat motionless and stunned.

"Where...?" he asked vaguely, and Bakura gave a coarse laugh.

"We're in the Shadow Realm, fool!" he spat. "Curse it. Somehow he banished us to the damned Shadow Realm!"

"Didn't you say that Destiny Board is the only way to get here, in the waking world?"

"Clearly I was wrong," Bakura snapped. "And I sure as Anubis’ foul breath don't know of any other way to get out."

They were silent, for a beat, each realizing the significance of that statement. Atem examined the dagger he still held, then tucked it into a sheath at his hip. He stood, a bit unsteadily, and began to pace.

"And to be stuck here with you," Bakura said, with a trace of humor. "That's some bitter irony, right there."

"I can't... sense Yugi..."

"If you'd been connected mentally, when that shit kid did whatever he did, lil' Yugi would be right here with us." Bakura looked down at Ryou's ring, seeming distant as he said, "I doubt you'll be able to touch his mind, from here."

"My father... kept some grave-keepers... by the name of Ishtar..."

Bakura blinked, letting the ring fall back against his chest. "Grave-keepers?"

"He only referenced them once, that I remember. And just a casual thing, like calculating their wages or something... but I'm certain..."

"So the kid does have a genuine grudge, ey?" Bakura asked. "And here I was all ready to give you the benefit of the doubt and write him off as some lunatic bastard."

Atem looked dutifully affronted; he muttered, "I can't listen to your nonsense... not right now..." and paced away from where the Thief King sat.

"I wouldn't go that way, if I were you," Bakura called after him, but Atem ignored it. The Thief King shrugged; stood, and brushed himself off. "And five..." he breathed, to no one but himself, "four... three... two... one..."

Atem shrieked as the ground collapsed beneath him; Bakura sighed trudging obligingly after the Pharaoh.

"I told you not to," he called, as he approached the ravine that had opened up in the sand. "I know this place well, Pharaoh—it'll kill you, if you don't pay attention. I know every detail and trap of its topography, by heart."

Atem, hanging by one hand from the edge of the cliff, huffed. "What are you expecting, cur? An apology?"

The Thief King reached him, looked down and crooned, "Well, considering how things have turned out, an apology might be nice."

"Bakura, quit fooling around," Atem grunted, struggling for a second handhold; the rocky ground kept crumbling away beneath his fingers when he grasped at it. "Bakura, curse it... help me...!"

The Thief King's grin widened, warping at the tremor in the Pharaoh's voice. "Help you?" he echoed, innocently. "Dear Pharaoh, why, in the exalted names of all the gods, would I do that?"

Atem's face lost a bit more of its color. "You..."

"I've been waiting for this moment," the Thief King sneered. As Atem reached up again, he placed his foot casually at the very edge of the cliff, blocking the Pharaoh's hand. "Foolish Pharaoh! We aren't in your palace, anymore—this is my place, and you're the guest."

Atem's face twisted with anger—anger and fear. "I knew it..." he hissed, bearing his teeth as the Thief King bent towards him. "May your soul know eternal agony, you filthy—aah!" He cut himself off as his wrist was grabbed.

"Foolish Pharaoh," Bakura chortled, his grin morphing into something far friendlier. He heaved Atem up—lifted him up out of the chasm, then hefted him effortlessly over his shoulder as the Pharaoh gave a shriek of protest. "You should have seen your face... ha!"

"Bakura, you... you stupid bastard..." Atem wheezed, his breath driven from him as Bakura's shoulder ground into his stomach. "That was too far... you rotten, stinking thief..."

"Payback for that time you made me think you were taking me to an execution," Bakura said, patting Atem's back.

"Put me down..."

"As the Pharaoh commands me."

But as Bakura went to lift Atem back down, the ground gave an unstable lurch beneath them. Bakura scarcely had time to realize what was happening—tried to leap away from the edge, but Atem's dead-weight slowed him—and they both plummeted downward amid a tumult of stone and tangled limbs.

Bakura grabbed and held tightly onto Atem's robes; the Pharaoh gave a shout of objection that was lost in the melee. They tumbled down the cliff-face, locked together, as a craggy landing loomed up beneath them. With a grunt, Bakura thrust the Pharaoh away from him; Atem cried out as he continued, for dozens yards, to tumble along alone. He rolled a clumsy, bumpy halt at the bottom of the ravine, groaning softly with pain.

Every inch of Atem's body felt bruised, battered, and he took a long moment to catch his breath before pushing himself upright on trembling arms. He craned his neck, squinting up at the jutting rock ledge he had been thrown past, and saw Bakura's head appear from atop it.

"Pharaoh Horus! You still alive?"

Atem scowled. "What in Ra did you think you were doing? Are you trying to kill me, after all?"

"Clearly, this is all part of my master plan," Bakura called down, grinning.

Atem struggled to his feet, assessing the damage: a dozen spots scraped bloody, his clothes torn, his whole body one massive ache. "This only happened because you were joking around, up there. And then you go and shove me, damn you! When you get down here, I may put you out of your filthy misery myself."

"Why don't you come up here and just try it?" Bakura sneered, with an inappropriately playful grin.

Though the slope was traitorous and crumbly, Atem, fuming, made the climb in a few calculated leaps. He drew a breath to shout something but pulled up short when he saw the Thief King, sprawled out on his belly with his right leg twisted out gruesomely behind him. Drag-marks in the sand showed how he'd crawled from a blood-stained spot of impact to the ledge's edge.

Bakura smiled; said, "Help me up, please. It's way too strange, looking up at you."

"Oh Osiris..." Atem breathed, and slumped onto his knees. "You... the impact was..." This shelf... hitting it was a sudden stop, with all the force of the fall behind it. Tumbling down the embankment, to the bottom, that was a gradual stop. "You know the topography... you pushed me..."

"Do try not to think the worst of me," Bakura said, with a slightly pained note in his voice. "It is how things are, between us, but it gets a bit old.”

Atem moved shakily forward; Bakura allowed himself to be rolled slightly over, though his teeth grit in pain. Atem examined his leg—femur smashed in multiple places, and hip mangled just above it. The knee seemed intact, somehow, as did everything below it. The blood on the ground had apparently come from a contusion just below Bakura's hip—the first and worst point of impact, it seemed. The skin had split, broken bone visible just beneath.

"The bleeding... isn't bad, at least," Atem murmured, and the Thief King gave a laugh made hoarse with pain.

"Right... there's that, at least. Help me up, I said. We can't stay exposed like this."

Atem nodded vaguely but didn't move. He started violently when Bakura grabbed his wrist.

"Pharaoh! Don't act like you've never seen damned blood before! We can't stay exposed!"

"Bakura... you..." Atem's face twisted, for a moment, and then he nodded; looked away. He looped Bakura's right arm around his own shoulders—narrow, compared to those of the Thief King—and heaved the other man up. Bakura staggered, hopping on his left foot to gain his balance as he tried not to knock Atem over. He gave a stifled shout of pain as his leg was jostled, but bit back any other exclamations.

Slowly, with agonizing care, Atem navigated them both back down the slope. The Thief King's weight on him was almost more than he could tolerate, but he didn't let himself falter. He thought of the agony that Bakura must be in and used it to lend perspective to his own discomfort.

Along the ravine wall, they came to a shallow indent—it could hardly be called a cave, but it was cover, at least. Atem lowered them both to the ground, slowly. Bakura collapsed back against the stone, his breathing ragged, his face unnaturally ashen, and his eyes closed.

"Bakura? Listen to me, you're not going to die here." Atem wasn't sure what compelled him to say it, but he couldn't hold the words back. The Thief King's lips twisted into a wry little smile.

"Great gods, Horus, you sound ridiculous..."

Atem shivered. "Look, this is the Shadow Realm, right? I have my deck with me, and you always carry yours. Can't we use Monster Reborn or Miracle's Wake to fix you?"

Bakura shook his head faintly. "Nah... those cards only work when you die. And even then, they don't fix you." Opening his eyes as slits, he moved one shaky hand to pull back his robe. "See this?" He ran his finger along a knot of scar tissue on his side. "Knife wound. Killed me. Monster Reborn brought me back, but the wound was still there when I woke up. It healed at a normal pace, after that. And when I came back because of Miracle's Wake, when I fought you, I couldn't move for hours afterwards. I've had some luck using Life Point restoration spells, like Goblin's Remedy, to speed up healing, but I don't have any of those with me, and I don't think you keep any in your deck either, right?"

Atem shook his head miserably. "No... I don't."

Bakura sighed; closed his eyes again. "And no trees or brush here, so nothing to even make a splint... Aah... well, guess I'll just die..."

"You're not going to die!" Atem objected; his voice broke on the last word.

Bakura chuckled. "Ha... got you again, Pharaoh..."

Atem bit his lip, tried to keep his composure, and whispered, "Yeah... you got me..."

Neither spoke for a moment, Bakura's harsh breathing the only audible sound. Then Atem rose, went to the mouth of the little alcove.

"There has to be some other way to get out of here..." He gazed out, virtually unseeing, and only looked back when Bakura made a pained little noise. Alarmed, he hurried back to crouch beside Bakura as the thief struggled to straighten out his leg.

"How can I help?"

Bakura shot him a baleful grin. "Take off my outer robe and tear it into strips, would you?"

Atem nodded and did as he was bade, drawing the small dagger at his hip to cut the rich crimson fabric. Bakura labored to get his bones into some semblance of the right shape. Then, together, they bound the injured limb with fabric, though not much could be done for the hip itself. At some point, Bakura also stuffed a scrap of cloth into his mouth and bit down to keep from wailing. The skin on his face and fingers grew slick with sweat.

When the job was done, Bakura slumped back with his eyes screwed shut; gave an odd series of crooning sobs into the rag, saliva leaking out past it. Atem sat awkwardly beside him, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, Bakura collected himself and opened his eyes; he pulled out the gag and threw it to the side, then wiped his mouth, avoiding Atem's gaze.

"I don't know if there's another way out of here, but there's something we can try." Bakura's voice was rough; scratchy. "There's a kind of center, in the Shadow Realm—like the center of a vortex. I've never gone too close to it, but... if there's an answer anywhere, it's there. The rest of this place is just empty wasteland."

Atem nodded, swallowing against the bile in his throat. "Right... that's something. We just need a chance."

Bakura placed one hand against the stone wall; it trembled almost uncontrollably, and Atem lurched to wedge himself under Bakura's arm as the Thief King tried to get up. After a tenuous moment, when both of them might have totally collapsed, they managed to stabilize.

"Aah... how pathetic," Bakura groaned, then gave a soft, involuntary yelp of pain. He snapped his teeth shut, and Atem could tell from the heave of his chest that he was trying hard not to cry out.

"We'll summon a monster, as transport," Atem said, and Bakura nodded reluctantly.

"Which one, do you think?"

Atem shrugged. "You're more experienced with things like this than I am."

Bakura thought for a moment, then said, "You're just trying to give me some sense of control, aren't you?"

Atem huffed. "You give me too much credit."

Bakura gave a pained smile, then pulled his deck out, leafed through it, and selected a card. "I summon Curse of Dragon!"

The air around the two humans swirled; buffeted them, and nearly knocked them both over. The monster screeched, when it had formed, and gave a flap of its skeletal wings as it settled down on the sand.

"Hey, friend," Bakura called, reaching out a hand. The monster screeched softly, bobbing it's head like a great bird. "Give us a ride?"

The monster rotated, slightly; bore it's back and stooped low. Atem and Bakura made their arduous way over to it, and then, with Atem's support from the ground, Bakura managed to heave himself up onto its back. The Pharaoh followed, feeling irrationally guilty in his freedom of movement. The gaps in Curse of Dragon's backbone made for decent seats, and Atem held onto the vertebrae just in front of him.

"Let's go, faithful friend," Bakura told the monster, patting the side of its bony head. Curse of Dragon screeched again; rose into the air with a beating of wings, and they were off.

#ygo #Yu-Gi-Oh!#Thief King Bakura #Ryou Bakura #pharaoh atem #yugi mutou #marik shows up #malik ishtar #yami malik #marik ishtar #TWRE #TSSTH #those who rule egypt #gemshipping #Blindshipping #puzzleshipping

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elementalladymallorie · 2 years

Text

When a Black Cat Crosses your Path

There is now a part 2 of my Klunk nonsense! Pretty sure this isn't what anyone would've expected for a second chapter, but this is what I came up with. More comedy, or attempts at comedy at least, this time around.

Part 1 can be found here or here.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4K almost 5K.

“We are not taking Klunk with us to fight bad guys.” Mikey’s voice was flat, and he had a fairly unimpressed look on his face. “He’s a cat, not a ninja.”

“I’m not saying we take him on every mission or anything. I’m just saying having a magic cat as a backup plan isn’t a bad thing.” Leo’s face scrunched up, leaning back and waving a hand in the air to clear away the fur from his face.

Mikey was currently brushing out Klunk’s fur, the cat sitting perfectly still and with an equally unimpressed look on his face. He tilted his head at Leo when the turtle opened his mouth to speak again.

Leo pouted slightly at that, but paused before continuing, “He can fit in places we can’t, his fire can melt metal , and no one would ever expect a cat .”

“What are you talking about?” Donnie paused, walking past the two in the living room area, staring at the two seated on the floor with Klunk between them.

Mikey shrugged, carrying on grooming Klunk. “Leo wants to start bringing Klunk out with us.” Klunk meowed, standing and stretching before going to rub against Donnie’s leg.

“Not every time! And not actually taking him! We can just use a portal to grab him.” Leo threw up his arms, flopping backwards on the floor. “Plus, Klunk is super smart! He’d understand if we asked him.”

Klunk meowed, tail swishing before trotting back to stare down at Leo. Leo smirked, reaching up to offer a hand for the cat “See? He’d totally make a great addition.”

Klunk merely placed a paw on Leo’s forehead, ears twitching, before looking over towards the door. Leo’s face fell a bit at that, and he stared at the cat.

Mikey laughed, picking up the brush and fur “He’s a smart kitty that’s for sure. But he also likes to do his own thing.”

“We don’t use Mayhem for anything like that?” Donnie added, staring down at his twin with a raised brow.

“Mayhem lives with April, and I wouldn’t mind asking him for more help too.” Leo offered, confusion over taking his features as Klunk suddenly dashed off.

They heard Raph yelp from just beyond the door, and a moment later the snapping turtle came in looking sheepish. He rubbed the back of his head, admitting sheepishly at his brother’s confused looks, “I wasn’t payin’ attention. I would’ve probably ran into the door if Klunk didn’t… Ya know.”

Mikey laughed at that, leaning down to give the cat a quick pet before returning to his task. The black cat shadowed the box turtle as he finished cleaning up.

“I don’t get how he always knows these things.” Donnie moved to help Leo up.

“I just mark it up to yokai stuff.” Mikey shrugged, leaning down to pick Klunk up, laughing when the cat pushed up to rub his head against Mikey’s chin. “We could find out about it soon, though. I asked Barry to come by to look him over.”

“You asked Draxum to come check out your cat?” Leo looked confused, sharing a look with Donnie, who merely shrugged “Why?”

“D’s pretty sure that Klunk’s not a mutant, and if he’s a yokai cat, Draxum will know if we need to do anything special for him.”

“Should we have asked Draxum about Mayhem?” Raph leaned against the door frame “I mean he’s a yokai, too.”

“Mayhem stays with April, though, and he’s been fine since she took him in.” Donnie glanced down at his wrist “Draxum also just hit the main door, Mikey.”

“Sweet!” Mikey readjusted his hold on Klunk and started moving towards the entrance “We can ask him now? Or mention it, at least if he can help out with Klunk.”

The turtles as a group made their way to meet Draxum, who looked fairly put out about having to come by for a visit.

“Alright, what mystical or mutant problem have you boys managed to get yourselves into now?” Draxum’s voice was rough, and he had his arms crossed over his chest.

“What did you tell him when you asked him to come over?” Raph looked down at Mikey, face exasperated, as he had a guess at how little information Mikey had likely given.

“Just that we had questions on a possible yokai thing!” Mikey protested before grinning and moving to hold Klunk under his front two legs, letting the rest of the cat dangle. “And this Barry is Klunk! He’s who I wanted to ask you about.”

Draxum stared for a few moments before sighing. “That… looks like a normal cat. Shouldn’t a normal human vet be able to assist?”

“We thought he was normal too until he shot off fire.” Leo leaned heavily against Raph, snickering at both the surprised look on Draxum and how Klunk was still just dangling.

“He… shot fire?” Draxum leaned down to look closer at the black cat, face taking on a more speculative look.

“Yeah! He can raise his own temp, too!” Mikey held Klunk out a little closer to Draxum. Klunk leaned his head back to get a better look at the turtle, meowing once before looking back at Draxum. “Oh, right. Klunk, this is Baron Draxum. He’s our other dad who was responsible for creating us!”

There was a small wince at that statement, mostly at how blunt it was. Klunk’s tail swished as he looked at Draxum. “Alright, so I can understand why you called me. How did you even find him?”

“He was just out in normal New York. Something hurt him, and I brought him here to get better.” Mikey shrugged, pulling Klunk close and holding the cat so he could pet him. “I didn’t know he wasn’t a normal cat then. It’s worked out, though. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t need anything special?”

“I’m not an expert on animals like this. I’m an alchemist, not a vet.” Draxum leaned back, looking once again put out about having been called over “All I can tell you is that animals from the Hidden City will probably be more intelligent than a normal animal, and it will have some kind of ability. Which you have already learned from the sounds of it.”

“He’s also got this weird ability to know when something bad’s about to happen.” Leo piped up, eyeing the cat with some suspicion “It’s kind of creepy honestly.”

“Most yokai only have one ability naturally. And since he has the ability to generate fire without another catalyst, I am willing to say that is it. Have you considered that maybe the cat is just more observant than you are?” Draxum’s tone is dry, and his face is markedly unimpressed. The boys looked a little sheepish at that, and Draxum sighed, “If you want more information on the cat, I’m sure a pet shop would be more than able to help-”

“The Hidden City has a pet store?!” Mikey cut off Draxum, eyes glinting excitedly.

Draxum was taken aback, leaning back slightly “Er-Yes? The Hidden City has similar amenities to the human cities. You should have seen some of them on our last trip down there.”

“We weren’t exactly looking for something like a pet store, and some of us didn’t get the chance to explore as much as we would’ve liked.” Don’s voice was sardonic, and both Leo and Raph grimaced at the reminder.

“We can go now! We could even grab April to get stuff for Mayhem!” Mikey is practically bouncing in place now, Klunk quickly moving to the turtle's shoulders for better balance so he’s not jostled around so much. “Barry could show us around while we find it.”

“Last time we were all down there, it was kind of a lot.” Leo pointed out “I got conned, Raph had to run with thieves, April and Donnie released a troll, and Draxum got beat up by a kid.” Leo paused, arms held out in front of him “And the five of us got arrested!”

“Oh, yeah.” Mikey said, looking down before grinning “I wasn’t though!”

“You are not going to the Hidden City alone.” Raph immediately responded, cutting off that line of thought. “If we stick together and keep quiet, we can just go in, get what we need, and come back home.”

“I’m not going to say the probability of that happening.” Donnie’s comment was met with a glare from Raph, and Donnie merely shrugged in response.

“I can’t exactly go down myself. I’m still considered wanted.” Draxum pointed out, “Even if I did want to go down.”

“We don’t have the cloaking broach anymore, either.” Mikey thought it over, beaming once more “We can get you whatever you need! If we’re already going down, we can just get it all in one trip, right?”

“That… I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” Draxum admitted, thinking through what supplies the turtles could realistically get for him.

“Sweet! We’ll grab April pop into the Hidden City and be back before you know it!” Mikey grinned, taking Klunk off his shoulders and placing him into Draxum’s arms. “Keep an eye on Klunkers Barry! He’s a good cat, just needs someone to make sure he doesn’t sneak treats or find something in the sewers. Pops was not happy at his last ‘present’.”

Klunk made a noise that could almost be called offended, while Draxum sputtered, “N-now wait just a moment!”

Leo was smirking, already pulling off his Katana to make a portal “No can do Draxy, don’t want to run into the rush hours. Wouldn’t help with the lying low thing.”

“Shouldn’t the rat be the one taking care of this cat?” Draxum was holding Klunk as far away from himself as he could. His face soured further when he heard three of his boys snickering.

“Dad’s not home right now. He should be soon, though.” Raph offered somewhat placatingly before stepping through Leo’s portal.

“Just send what you need to the group chat and we’ll see what we can do.” Donnie held up his phone, waving once before following after Raph.

“I didn’t agree to this!” Draxum’s protest fell on deaf ears.

“Bye Barry! Bye Klunk! See you guys later!” Mikey gave a cheery wave before disappearing through the portal. Leo only snickered before following, portal closing behind him and leaving Draxum standing dumbfounded and holding a cat.

Draxum stares at Klunk, who stares back for a few moments. Klunk’s tail swishes a few times before twisting slightly to jump down to the ground.

Klunk looks back at the goat yokai and meows once before dashing off further into the lair.

Draxum sighs, and feels that it’s going to feel twice as long than however long the boys will actually be gone.

It had only been thirty minutes, and Draxum was beginning to regret this more and more.

He’d sent off a list of items to the kids, pointedly ignoring the texts the boys had sent to April about the turn of events. Then he’d decided to take a quick look around, see how the family’s home had progressed in the past few months.

He’d even taken a quick look at the new projects Donatello had started. Draxum would claim that it was just a mutual interest in science. He would deny the pride swelled in his chest, and that he was making sure that everything was safe. Not like the other boys or the rat would quite be able to tell how dangerous some of the things the Soft-shell turtle could make could be.

His problem, though, was that the darned cat was tailing him every step of the way, minus his brief look into the lab. However, the cat did hiss at him for that one.

Klunk was never more than five steps behind Draxum, making sure that whenever Draxum stopped, he stopped within Draxum’s line of sight. It was unnerving in a way that made Draxum understand why the turtles had mentioned the cat’s slightly ‘creepy’ behavior.

They were exaggerating a bit in Draxum’s opinion, but the thought wasn’t completely unfounded, at least.

Draxum moved into the kitchen, grabbing something to drink from the fridge. He looked down, brow raising when he noticed the cat missing from his side. Casting a glance around the room did not reveal the cat’s location either, and it was mildly concerning.

Draxum got the distinct feeling of eyes staring at him, and he looked towards the door, half expecting the rat to be there. There was no one there, though, and taking a sip from the drink he’d made himself, and continued to look around.

He almost spat out his drink when he looked up on a hunch towards the top of the fridge. Sitting there at the top was Klunk, staring down with a twitching ear before leaning over and turning his head until he was almost looking at Draxum upside down.

Draxum stared back, blinking and trying to figure out how the creature had managed to slip past him and get on top of the fridge without making any noise.

Klunk stared at him for another moment before jumping down, barely brushing against Draxum’s leg before trotting into the living room area.

The sheep yokai guessed he was meant to follow, but the only thing he could think was that the boys or Lou Jitsu had better return soon.

At an hour, Draxum was tempted to text the kids and tell them to forget about picking up his things.

He’d been sitting on the couch in silence, with Klunk sitting on the coffee table, just staring at him.

Draxum stared back, gauging the reaction of the cat when he leaned forward.

Klunk merely blinked, head tilting to the side as his tail swished.

“Alright, you are a bigger enigma than previously expected.” Draxum laces his hands together, elbows resting against his legs. “I do have to ask though, given my previous experiences, are you one of the council’s various spies?”

Klunk’s ears flicked backward once before he started cleaning one of his paws.

Draxum’s face changed from blank to unimpressed and he sighed, leaning back once more “Well, that is not conclusive.” He crossed his arms “If you are one, I must warn you it won’t end well if you attempt to use any information you’ve happened to gather from the turtles.”

“Are you interrogating the cat?” Splinter’s voice was startlingly loud.

Draxum jolted, head snapping, to look at Splinter, who had finally returned.

Klunk meowed, jumping down and moving to weave between Splinter’s legs and purring all the while.

“Yes, yes. I am happy to see you as well, Klunk.” Splinter leaned down, scratching behind the cat’s ears before standing straight again. He eyes Draxum, a brow raised and suspicion clear in his voice “Now why are you interrogating the cat? And where are the boys?”

“I wasn’t interrogating the cat.” Draxum put air quotes around the word interrogating “And the boys are out in the Hidden City to get supplies for your newest menace.”

“How long ago did they leave?” Splinter is moving further into the living room “Surely it can’t take that long to pick up a few more supplies for an animal. We had all the necessities already.”

“They’ve been gone a bit over an hour, and they were running an extra errand for me.” Draxum stood, shrugging “Shouldn’t be much longer.” At that moment, both men’s phones pinged with a new message.

They shared a glance before Splinter played the video Leonardo had sent them.

“Hey Dad! Hey Draxy! Sooo, we ran into some trouble down here. It’s nothing major!” Leo’s reassurance was undercut by what sounded suspiciously like an explosion. “It will make us a little late, but it’s all good!”

They could hear April yelling something indistinct, which Leo took a quick glance towards “Okay maybe not good right now, but we got this!” Raph is yelling at Leo now to ‘Get your shell back here!’ while something went flying behind the turtle. Leo winced, before putting on a charming smile “We’ll be back soon! Love you guys! Buh-Bye!”

The message ended by cutting off April’s voice mid yell, and both adults looked at one another, processing what they had just witnessed.

“They are truly menaces.” Draxum sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“They certainly do have a way of getting into trouble.” Splinter couldn’t help but agree, ears pinned back as his tail swished.

“Well, now that you’re back, I can take my leave. I only stayed because they foisted the cat off on me. “Draxum waved a dismissive hand, moving back towards the entrance “You can tell the kids I’ll come back for whatever they managed to get me, or we can work out a time for them to run by and drop it off.”

“Yes, thank you for watching over Orange’s cat. I’m sure he is very grateful for it.” Splinter gave a wave, voice sounding more cheery as he spoke to Klunk “Now Klunk, how about you come with me to wait for the boys?”

There was a beat of silence “Klunk?”

Draxum paused in the doorway, turning to look back and seeing Splinter looking around the room. Draxum then noticed that there was no little shadow sitting at either of their feet.

A quick look into the other rooms, and Splinter’s attempts to get the cat to come to them with treats yielded no sign of the cat.

Both men looked at each other before looking out towards the entrance.

“I hope you don’t mind staying longer, Draxum, because I do not want to search for this cat alone.”

“Doesn’t Donatello put trackers on all of you?” Draxum asked at the twenty-minute mark of their search.

“He does, but I do not have access to that. Nor do I know how to use it.” Splinter’s ears twitched, listening for any sound that could indicate where Klunk was. “And Klunk can’t have gotten that far. He normally shows up not too long after leaving, but after last time… I’d rather not have a repeat.”

Draxum let out a sharp laugh at that. “What? You lived down here for years. I doubt anything a cat could bring back as a ‘present’ could be much worse than what you would’ve found.”

“You would be surprised.” Splinter muttered, a shudder going down his spine. “But no, our new fuzzball did not bring back anything too concerning in that respect. He brought back a pigeon.”

“A pigeon?” The yokai’s brow rose, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Yes, I don’t know where he got it, but it was still alive and relatively unharmed. After Klunk put it down, it started flying around and making a mess!” Splinter’s tail swept harshly against the ground “Took forever to catch the bird and get back topside.”

“How did a bird even get down here?” Draxum glanced down one of the side tunnels, shaking the treat bag Splinter had given him. “Was it normal?”

“That one leads to a dead end. If he was there, he would’ve come by now.” Splinter stated offhandedly before nodding “Purple made sure before we released it. The other boys nicknamed it Pete for some reason.”

Draxum hummed, following after the mutant “Maybe the boys are right that there’s something more to this cat.”

“He has quite the uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time.” Splinter agreed, pausing as his ear twitched in one direction “Wait… Did you hear that?”

The yokai stilled, ears straining to listen for any noises. Faintly, he heard a jingling sound further down the tunnel.

Both quickly moved in the direction of the sound. Slowing down when they got closer to not startle Klunk.

The sight that greeted them was certainly an odd one.

Klunk was leaning over the edge of the walkway, staring at the water intently before lashing out with a paw to grab at something. Once he pulled it close enough, his head ducked down towards the water.

“No! You do not know what is there! It’s filthy!” Splinter yelled and both he and Draxum darted forward to grab the cat.

Draxum shot one of his vines out, having it wrap carefully around Klunk’s midsection and pulling him back from the water.

“What did you grab?!” Splinter has his arms out for Draxum to lower the cat into, focusing on the object dangling from Klunk’s mouth.

Klunk made a noise of discontent, wiggling until he was lowered to the ground and dropping his catch carefully.

Three sets of eyes watched as the Klunk’s catch began to flail, getting back to its feet and cooing as it tried to hop away.

“That is…. A pigeon.” Draxum sounded as dumbfounded as he felt, watching the bird for another moment before looking back at Splinter.

Splinter looked just as stunned, nodding as he looked towards Klunk “It is. I believe it is even the same pigeon as last time.”

The bird hopped back towards the edge of the walkway, wobbling dangerously back towards the water. Klunk made a chittering noise before carefully placing a paw on the bird’s tail feathers, keeping it from falling back in.

“How could he have possibly known that this bird was even here?” Splinter’s question hangs in the air for a moment before both he and Draxum sighed. “We should… clean it up and take it back up to the surface.” Splinter pinched the bridge of his nose “Again.”

Draxum grunted, using one of his vines to carefully pick up the bird and making sure it couldn’t squirm away. “I am not touching it until we at least rinse it off.”

Klunk meowed what sounded like an agreement, face looking as close to disgust as it could as he trotted behind them.

Draxum and Splinter managed to rinse off any sludge off the pigeon, fairly painlessly all while Klunk supervised, gently batting the bird back into place whenever it tried to hop away.

Currently, the pigeon was air drying and pecking at the table it was set on while Klunk kept it in place.

A loud chorus of voices broke the peace that had settled over the lair at the entryway. Three heads turned to look, watching as the boys walked in. Raph and Donnie were holding bags, while Mikey was riding piggyback with Leo.

They were a little bruised, and a little dirty, but they were smiling and laughing, so all three relaxed.

“We’re home!” Raph called out, grinning proudly as he set the bags down “And the Mad Dogz saved another day!”

Klunk left the pigeon’s side, going to rub against all four turtles’ ankles as a way of greeting. Mikey slipped off of Leo’s back, reaching down to pick the cat up as Leo noticed the bird now hopping on the table “Pete’s back?”

The other three looked at the bird before glancing at the two adults, who only stared back.

“Why is Pete back?” Donnie’s brow was raised before a disgusted look came over him as the pigeon attempted to eat a stray thread from a kitchen towel.

Draxum merely shooed the bird away from the strand, while Splinter asked, “What did you boys get up to in the Hidden City?”

All four turtles shared a guilty glance before Leo strode forward, grinning as he gestured to the bags “We got the pet supplies! And a good chunk of your list, Draxum! The details aren’t really important.” He tilted his head towards the pigeon “We have to take Pete back up?”

“The bird’s feathers aren’t done drying yet, but soon.” Draxum responded, letting the boys take the out they made for themselves.

“You have a good time with Barry, Klunk?” Mikey’s question caused both Splinter and Draxum to share a similar guilty look. Leo, Raph, and Donnie snickered at that while Mike’s focus was on Klunk, who meowed, looking quite satisfied with himself.

“Where’s O’Neil? I thought you were taking her with you?” Draxum asked, once more using a vine to hold the pigeon before it managed to topple itself off the table.

“We did. She wanted to go clean up and spoil Mayhem a bit with some stuff she got for him.” Raph glanced over his shoulder, sorting through the bags.

Klunk jumped from Mikey to Raph, leaning forward to sniff at one of the bags.

“I’m gonna feed you in a bit! You can wait for your new treats!” Mikey called out, moving back towards the kitchen.

Klunk gave a call in response, but leaned back and sat still on Raph’s shoulder.

“You staying for dinner, Draxum?” Leo asked, taking a seat at the table and watching Pete scratching now at the towel.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to…” The feeling of eyes on him became strong again, and a glance showed Klunk staring again, head tilted in one direction “But, I suppose I can…”

Mikey gave a cheer from further back in the room, Raph had a grin on his face, and both Don and Leo had smirks on their faces while Splinter quietly sniggered.

Klunk’s tail swished, and it irked Draxum how smug the cat managed to look.

Hours later, after they had released Pete and dinners had been eaten, Draxum merely observed how the family had made space for Klunk. Keeping an eye on them as he mingled longer than originally intended.

Though perhaps it was more appropriate to say how Klunk had made his own space with each of them.

Donatello had the cat first for the night, Klunk sitting at the edge of schematics and pushing back pens and pencils whenever they strayed too far from the turtle's reach. When Donatello had gathered his things and left, giving one a few scritches under the cat’s chin before retreating to start building.

Klunk then moved on to Leonardo, which was amusing in its own way. It seemed that Leonardo was attempting to teach the cat how to skateboard, to dubious results. So far, Klunk would only sit on the board while Leonardo pushed it but doing nothing to assist. Afterwards, the turtle moved on to more average forms of play for felines, cheering whenever Klunk pulled off an impressive pounce or jump. Somehow, Leo had managed to teach the cat fetch as well, which ended up being most of the play time.

When Klunk tired of that, he moved on to sit on the arm of Splinter’s chair, sitting still and meowing in agreement to Splinter’s comments on the commercial that played. Splinter, for his part, laughed at Klunk’s comments, reaching out to rub at the cat’s ears when the show started back up. Klunk reacted just as much as Splinter did, watching till near the end of the show before moving on.

Raph got cuddle time, apparently. Klunk immediately hopped into the snapper’s lap, curling up and purring, when one big hand reached down to start petting him. Raphael started cooing over Klunk, putting the comic down for a few moments to focus on the cat before picking it back up. One hand continuously stroking along the cat’s back and reading with the other, while Klunk stretched out on the turtle’s lap and purr only getting louder.

After a while of that, Klunk stretched and stood up, rubbing his head under Raphael’s chin before trotting off towards Michelangelo.

Klunk had kept his demeanor and poise with all the others, even when Leo was playing with him, but he immediately flopped down on his back, wiggling around pressing against Mikey’s side where he laid on the floor. Michelangelo paused the game he’d been playing, laughing as he started petting Klunk, the cat pressing up into the hand. Klunk moved to lay on Mikey’s shell, letting the turtle return to his game, and occasionally nuzzling his head against Mikey’s or reaching out with a paw to tap at the screen or button when Mikey offered the system up.

Draxum felt he had lingered too long now, nodding once to himself and gathering his things. A jingle nearby made Draxum pause, looking down and seeing Klunk staring up at him. Klunk’s head tilted to one side, and his tail swished as Draxum raised a brow.

“I suppose my earlier concerns have been put to rest.” Draxum conceded “I don’t quite know what your whole situation is or what you are doing, but I believe you have no ill intentions towards the turtles or Jitsu.”

Klunk meowed, getting up and moving to rub against Draxum’s legs, a quiet purr rumbling in his chest.

Draxum didn’t quite know how to react to that, but was saved from any embarrassment by Mikey coming in. “Aww, look at that! Klunk took you pretty quick Barry!”

“I suppose so.” Draxum stared down at Klunk, who only looked back up with wide eyes. He sighed, reaching down to pet Klunk with a small smile growing on his face.

“I should get going, though. I do have work tomorrow.” Draxum pointedly ignored any cooing or sniggering he heard. “Thank you, boys, for shopping for me. Until the next time you inevitably decide to bother me.”

He got a chorus of goodbyes, and even a few meows, as he made his way out of the lair.

The boys had gotten quite lucky in the latest addition to their family. Though Draxum was still curious about the coincidences with the cat.

#baron draxum #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #writings #donatello tmnt #leonardo tmnt #raphael (tmnt)#michelangelo #I need to start breaking these up more #because it got longer than expected #tmnt klunk

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rainywerewolfmoon · 8 months

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The Fairyland

Ao3 link here The Fairyland - Chapter 32 - Princessmh9 - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 32: Tides of Alliance

{As the sunlight streamed down on Genevieve and Shadow, the heat mingled with the magic creating a sense of excitement that can't be explained. The lush forests were becoming less and less as the terrain transformed into sandy hills and dunes and scrub that can survive the harsh coastal life. Shadow snorts in excitement as the fresh sea breeze air fills his nostrils and sends his hooves dancing as he steps proudly forward. Genevieve smiles at this as she lets him dance. There was magic in the sea breeze. Not the magic she knows but a different kind of magic, the magic of the sea, the magic of the merfolk. As she and Shadow arrive at the top of a dune she looks down and gasp. The ocean was the bluest of blue you could imagine, and the sand was a blinding white. The rock pools were of the smoothest rocks. And sitting on them was the merfolk. Their tails were of vibrant colors and glistened in the sun as their long hair flowed in the breeze as they combed it and laughed and singed. Genevieve spent a few moments taking it all in when they noticed her and one of them a merman picked up a shell and started to blow it. Shortly other merfolk started to appear and watch Genevieve.}

{Genevieve} I think that's our cue to go down and meet them boy. What you think?

{Shadow snorts at this as he rears up neighing as he then dashes down the dune, sand kicking up from his hooves as he gallops down the dune and races across the beach, the excitement growing stronger and stronger as he gets nearer to the ocean. As they reach the edge of the beach Shadow slows down to a trot then a walk as Genevieve slows him to a stop.}

{Genevieve} Whoo boy. Easy there.

{She then leaned down and got off Shadow as walks into the water a little way as the merfolk swam up to her. One of the merfolk, the same merman who had blown the shell, swam forward to greet her. His hair floated around him like a silky cloud, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous light.}

{Merman} Welcome, land-dweller. We sense the magic in your presence. What brings you to our domain?

{Genevieve} Greetings I am Genevieve the granddaughter of Merlin and this is Shadow my faithful companion. We been sent by King Oberon and Queen and Titania to get the sword Excalibur from your kingdom.

{Merman} Argh yes. We been expecting you, Genevieve. Welcome kin of Merlin. If you follow us, we will lead you to our kingdom.

{Genevieve} Thankyou but what about Shadow?

{Mermaid} He be quite safe here we can promise you that. The sea Unicorns and horses will come in from the waves and keep him company. I promise no harm will come to him.

{Genevieve smiles at this reassurance as she walks over to Shadow}

{Genevieve} Now you behave boy and no getting into trouble ok boy? {She says as she takes his bridle and saddle off him and puts them on the ground. Shadow neighs in delight and then starts to gallop off down the beach kicking up his hooves as he neighs loud and clear and gallops as hard as he can. Genevieve burst into laughter watching him. He turns around and comes flying past her in speed only capable of a thoroughbred. He then rears up neighs and then lays down and starts to roll in the sand as a huge wave starts to crash into the shore and from it the sea Unicorns and horses gallop forth. Shadow seeing this gets up and races to them eager to join them. As Shadow approached the sea Unicorns and horses, they greeted him with gentle nuzzles and whinnies of welcome. They formed a circle around him, their majestic presence both comforting and awe-inspiring. Shadow, feeling the kinship among these magical creatures, joined them in their playful gallops along the shore.

Genevieve smiled knowing Shadow was safe she walked over to the merfolk.}

{Genevieve} I am ready.

{She then touch's her necklace as she thought about being a mermaid and it glowed brightly as she closes her eyes and felt her legs fuse together as a tale appears. She leaps up with the help of the magic and dives into the crystal blue water. She opens her eyes and gasp in delight at what she saw. Under the shimmering waves, Genevieve's transformed body gracefully glided through the clear waters. Her newly formed mermaid tail shimmered with hues of turquoise and silver, reflecting the sunlight that penetrated the ocean's depths. Schools of colorful fish swam around her, creating a vibrant tapestry of life and movement.

Genevieve swam deeper, guided by the merfolk who effortlessly glided alongside her. As she descended, she discovered a breathtaking underwater kingdom, a realm of enchantment and wonder. The coral reefs thrived with vibrant hues, and sea creatures of all shapes and sizes danced through the swaying kelp forests.

The merfolk led Genevieve through an archway made of iridescent pearls, opening up to a magnificent palace adorned with seashells and shimmering stones. The walls of the palace seemed to pulse with a gentle glow, emanating a sense of magic and ancient power.

As Genevieve entered the palace, she was greeted by the majestic presence of the merman king Triton and his mermaid queen Cora. Their regal figures exuded an aura of authority and wisdom, commanding the respect of all the merfolk in the chamber.

{King Triton} Genevieve, granddaughter of Merlin, we bid you welcome to our underwater kingdom. It is an honor to receive one of such noble lineage. Your arrival brings a glimmer of hope to our realm.

{Queen Cora} Indeed, Genevieve. The legends of your family's connection to magic and the sword Excalibur have echoed throughout the depths of the sea. We have long awaited your presence.

Genevieve bowed respectfully before the merman king and mermaid queen, acknowledging their presence and the weight of her mission.

{Genevieve} I am humbled by your welcome, King Triton and Queen Cora. I have been sent by King Oberon and Queen Titania to retrieve the sword Excalibur from your kingdom, for the fate of both land and sea hangs in the balance.

{King Triton} We are aware of the plight that threatens our realms. The sword Excalibur holds immense power, but it is not to be wielded lightly. We will guide you in your quest, and together, we shall ensure its safekeeping.

Queen Cora's eyes shimmered with a mixture of concern and determination.

{Queen Cora} Genevieve, the task ahead is perilous, and the forces that seek to claim Excalibur for their own are relentless. But fear not, for the magic of the sea shall protect you, and our merfolk warriors will stand by your side.

The merfolk warriors gathered around Genevieve, their tails glimmering with determination and their expressions filled with loyalty.

{Genevieve} Thank you, King Triton and Queen Cora. I am grateful for your guidance and the support of your brave warriors. Together, we shall safeguard the sword and restore balance to our realms.

{King Triton} The sword Excalibur is guarded by the sea, and we have waited for the rightful heir to claim it. Follow us to the Chamber of Tides.

Genevieve followed them through winding corridors until they reached a chamber filled with the soft glow of bioluminescent sea creatures. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, on which Excalibur rested, its ethereal glow illuminating the surroundings.

{Queen Cora} This is the sacred sword, Excalibur, forged by the hands of ancient magic. Only the true heir of Arthur can wield its power. Reach out, Genevieve, and claim your birthright.

Genevieve's heart raced with anticipation as she approached the pedestal. She extended her hand, and as her fingers touched the hilt of Excalibur, a surge of power coursed through her veins. The sword recognized her as the rightful heir, granting her its ancient magic and wisdom.

{Genevieve} I accept this honor with humility and gratitude. I vow to wield Excalibur with courage and honor, to protect the realms and uphold the legacy of King Arthur.

The merfolk applauded, their voices harmonizing in a melodious chorus. As the merfolk applauded, their voices harmonizing in a melodious chorus, Genevieve felt a deep sense of purpose and responsibility. She knew that the weight of the realms rested on her shoulders, but she was bolstered by the support and guidance of King Triton, Queen Cora, and the loyal merfolk warriors.

With Excalibur in her grasp, Genevieve could feel its ancient power coursing through her. It was a connection to her lineage, to the legendary King Arthur, and to the magic that flowed through her veins. She understood that wielding Excalibur meant more than just possessing a powerful weapon; it symbolized a commitment to justice, protection, and the preservation of harmony between land and sea.

As the applause subsided, King Triton stepped forward, his gaze filled with pride.

{King Triton} Genevieve, you have proven yourself worthy of this sacred sword. Now, let the combined strength of our realms guide you on your journey. May Excalibur's light illuminate the path towards a future where magic and balance thrive.

With a nod of gratitude, Genevieve acknowledged the merman king's words. She turned to face the gathered merfolk, her voice resolute and filled with determination.

{Genevieve} To the warriors of the sea, I am honored to stand among you. Together, we shall protect our realms from the forces that seek to disrupt the delicate equilibrium. Let our alliance be a beacon of hope and resilience.

The merfolk warriors raised their tridents and shimmering tails in a show of solidarity, their expressions filled with determination and unwavering loyalty. Their voices echoed through the chamber, blending into a powerful chorus.

{Merfolk Warriors} We pledge our loyalty to you, Genevieve, and to the cause we share. The sea shall rise in defense of the land, and the land shall stand as a steadfast ally of the sea. Together, we shall prevail!

With their united voices resounding, Genevieve felt an indescribable surge of energy and purpose. She knew that she was not alone in her quest and that the combined strength of the merfolk and herself would be an unstoppable force against any threat that may arise.

As the celebrating started whispers started to flow around not only in the sea but on land as well. From the tiniest fish to the biggest mighty dragon, felt the renewed sense of hope and protection. They knew that Genevieve and the merfolk warriors would stand as guardians, watchful and strong. As the news of Genevieve's alliance with the merfolk warriors spread, a ripple of hope swept across the realms. Whispers carried the tale from the depths of the ocean to the highest mountaintops, reaching the ears of creatures far and wide.

In the forests, animals shared stories of the land-dweller who had ventured into the realm of the merfolk, wielding Excalibur and forging an unprecedented bond. From the wise owls to the nimble foxes, they acknowledged the strength and unity that Genevieve's alliance represented.

The birds, with their keen eyes and swift wings, carried the news through the skies, spreading it to distant lands. From the majestic eagles soaring above mountain peaks to the humble sparrows nesting in village eaves, they sang songs of hope and resilience. The tales of Genevieve's bravery and the merfolk warriors' unwavering loyalty traveled far and wide, inspiring creatures of all sizes and species.

Even the ancient trees whispered to one another, their roots interwoven in a vast network of communication. From the towering oaks to the graceful willows, they shared the news of the alliance that promised to safeguard the delicate balance of the realms. The whispers of the trees echoed through the forests, carrying the message of unity and protection.

In the caves, where the dragons slumbered and guarded their hoards, the news of Genevieve's quest spread through their telepathic connections. The mighty dragons, known for their ancient wisdom and fiery strength, sensed the renewed hope that coursed through the realms. They knew that Genevieve's journey held the potential to shape the destiny of all creatures, and they vowed to lend their support if ever the need arose.

From the smallest insects to the largest mammals, creatures of every kind became aware of the presence of Genevieve and the merfolk warriors. They felt the surge of hope and protection, knowing that there were those who would stand as guardians, watchful and strong, against the forces that threatened their homes.

And so, inspired by the tales and whispers that spread throughout the land and sea, creatures from every corner of the realms began to gather. They formed alliances of their own, creating a network of support and solidarity. Together, they pledged to aid Genevieve and the merfolk warriors in their mission to protect the realms and restore balance.

In the face of adversity, the realms stood united. From the depths of the ocean to the highest peaks, from the smallest creatures to the mightiest dragons, they embraced the hope that Genevieve's alliance had ignited. The whispers of unity became a resounding chorus, echoing through the land and sea, promising a future where creatures of all kinds could coexist in harmony and thrive under the protection of those who stood as guardians. And it was this that alerted Princess Dala who decided to go and tell her mother Queen Mab that Excalibur has been found and is being wielded by Genevieve. As she flew as fast as she could she knew her mother will be angry with this news of their enemy.

#the fairyland

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captainstevenjohnstonme · 11 months

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Bush Pig

'Where in the fuck is the old fool, he should have been here an hour ago.'

38 year old Edgar Perkins the works manager at Grantchester Meatworks located in the Northern Tablelands, NSW, Australia is a little peeved to say the least.

It 42 degrees celsius stinking hot on a Friday afternoon and all Edgar wants to do is leave work go to the pub and have a few beers, maybe have a flutter on the ponies but here it is 4.30 and he is waiting for a delivery of pigs.

Edgar a Yarrowitch local who still plays first grade for his local footy team checks his watch again 'Come on Mac where in the hell are you?'

The frustrated slaughterman lights a cigarette while he paces around the holding yard than he face lights up when he hears the sound of Mac's old truck drive into the meatworks.

'Sorry i am late Edgar but I had a hell of a time getting the pigs into the back of my truck especially the big black bastard who has been nothing but trouble since the day he was born.'

'i had to sedate the mongrel otherwise he would have destroyed my truck.'

Edgar shakes his life long friends hand 'Thats alright Bruce now lets get the pigs unloaded than we can go to the pub where as usual i will beat you at darts and pocket another easy 10 dollars.'

In your dreams Edgar, but i wasn't joking about that black pig he is one mean son of a bitch so lets just be careful okay?'

Around town the two friends are known as Laurel & Hardy because Bruce is short and thin with wispy light brown hair who since he was a little boy has been afraid of his own shadow and is wary around people while Edgar has always been big for his age which means that he likes to take charge and that sometimes can cause people to think that Edgar is a hot head but nothing could be further from the truth because deep down Edgar was a big softie who would do anything to help everyone.'

After opening the tailgate on the truck around twenty little pigs happily trot out into the holding yard not knowing that come Monday morning their time on earth will come to an end.

In the back of the truck the sedated black pig is laying on a bed of straw with his snout resting on his legs 'What are you worried about Bruce Mr Ham Hock here looks pretty peaceful to me.'

'Don't be fooled Edgar that pig is meaner than a cut snake so the best bet would be to put a bullet in his head while he is sedated than we can put a chain around a leg and pull him out.'

Mr Ham Hock as you call him is the craziest critter ever to walk this earth and that includes the huge croc's up north.'

Edgar smiles at his friend as he approaches the big pig snoring on the floor of the truck 'He sure is a fine specimen Bruce black all over except for that small white spot on his forehead.'

'But come Monday he will just be another pig on his way to market.'

Blackie aka Mr Ham Hock who all intents and purposes appears to be asleep but he is indeed wide awake and has heard every word the two humans have spoken and although he doesn't understand the words spoken he knows that he hasn't arrived at this place for a good time and a free feed.

All Blackie is waiting for is the right time to unleash some fury, stretch his hamstrings and make a dash for the hills.

'Don't get any closer Edgar, I personally saw this pig kill and eat three of his siblings so please Edgar go and get your gun because it is better to be safe than sorry.'

'I am begging you Edgar put a bullet in the fuckers head before he wakes up and realizes that he is about to be smoked, pickled and sent on a one way trip to sausage town.'

'Don't be such a pussy Bruce, while bacon boy here is having a snooze I might as well have some fun, those tusks of his would bring a good price and those ears would give my dogs something to chew on.'

'Edgar don't be a fool, that pig is meaner than a junkyard dog, take what you want but first send that evil porker to hell where he belongs.'

Edgar Perkins is built like a brick outhouse but he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed so he completely ignores his friends advice and walks even closer to the bad tempered pig ' I have been slaughtering hogs for over twenty years Bruce so I know what i am doing but to put your mind at ease I will bleed him out first before I take the off cuts.'

When he hears a knife being removed from its sheath Blackie knows thar he is in eminent danger so with lightning speed he explodes into action.

Bruce is taken first, ripped open from groin to sternum he collapses to the ground screaming in agony with his guts spilling out onto the straw.

A tusk to the throat silences him forever.

Edgar can't believe what he just saw, his best friend is dead because of his stubbornness, on wobbly legs he faces the petulant porker with only a small knife for protection.

The pig stares back at Edgar foaming at the mouth and charges a full speed in the small confines of the truck and soon has the human pinned against the side rails.

Edgar stabs the pig a few times with affect while dodging the lethal tusks. 'Okay Mr Ham Hock you win, I won't kill just yet but tomorrow is another day so I suggest that you make your escape while you still can.'

'But before you go remember that one day I will hunt you down and slice you open like you did to my friend Bruce.'

Blackie sensing that his enemy is backing down feints to the left as if to make an escape but quickly turns back sinking his teeth into the humans right hand severing four fingers leaving only the thumb behind.

Edgar screams in terror but manages to stay on his feet, he manages to stab the pig in his midsection causing the pig to falter and almost stumble but this pig is made from strong stuff so he takes off to the east towards Mummel Gulf National Park.

Edgar can do nothing but wrap his injured hand with his dirty T shirt while he digs into a front pocket for mobile to ring for an ambulance.

As he explains to the operator what his emergency is Edgar watches the pig run away as fast as his little trotters will take him.

When he has reached safety has one last look behind him before he enters the scrub, now he has a taste for human blood and he likes it.

Hunting humans is about to become a blood sport.

THE END

Part Two coming soon.

#killer #blood #pig #hogs #Australia #NSW #tusks #guts #horror

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

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Dirty Old Man

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Dubcon themes in the beginning (it’s later all consensual), Knifeplay (to remove clothing), Captivity/Kidnapping, Slapping, Daddy Kink, Some Assplay, Gagging (on fingers), Choking, One mention of blood, A little bit of bondage, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Age Gap, Kenny is a dirty old man.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It’s late, but it’s here! Here’s my part to the Smut Pile’s Western Collab! Please heed the warnings. Kenny is disgusting and I’m disgusting but here we are, fucking Kenny.

“I told you to stop running away. I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of chasin you down.” Kenny spit the words out like poison, crouching in front of you to place the tip-end of his knife against your corseted chest as a warning.

You attempted a protest, but the makeshift gag made out of a torn piece of your skirts kept you virtually silent. Your wrists were burning, the rope around them scratching against your skin behind your back. The inn he’d taken you to for the night was damp and dirty, the floor you were tossed into reeking of piss and sour bourbon.

He had come for you again. You’d had some wistful doubt that he wouldn’t, but like always, he’d tracked you down as easily as hunters do footprints in thick snow. He’d followed your trail and bound you with that thick rope of braided hemp he always kept at his side. Evading him was never easy, but you thought you’d gotten away with it this time when you’d found a meager orphanage to cook at. He hated children—you thought he’d never set foot in the place, but reckoning had come for you in the early hours of the morning, with a dark shadow moving in the corner of the kitchens.

“You never fuckin’ learn. Maybe this time I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

The sharp point of his blade dug into your clothes, the cutting edge purposefully situated between featherbone channels so it could slice at cotton threads.

You swore against the cloth in your mouth, your curses soaking into the spit-damp fabric. He hooked a finger under the gag digging into your cheek, pulling at the material with a smirk.

“Got something to say, kid?”

Slowly, he pulled the torn cloth from your mouth, your head twisting to shake away strings of drool that had attached to the textile.

“Maybe I like the chase, Kenny,” you hissed out his name, not bothering with the Mr. Ackerman bullshit you’d called him at home.

He had once been a rather removed presence in your life; he was just that outlaw in the corner who did the terrible things the rich families in your town had the money but not the gall to do. But now he’d become the bane of your existence, the dark thread that always pulled you back into the oppressive home life you were running from. He never seemed to care. If anything, he seemed to take a sick joy in finding you quicker each time you snuck out and ran in a new, farther direction.

“So we’re on a first name basis now, huh? Good, cause we’re about to get real intimate.”

“You could make this real fun and actually untie me.”

“I’m not untying you, ain’t fucking happening. I didn’t spend weeks tracking down a stupid maiden for her daddy for you to run off into the woods the moment I turn my back to piss.”

You winced a little at his harsh words, still very aware of the cold steel carefully skating through the middle of your chest. The threads of your corset were popping and curling back toward the bone linings.

“I’m not some fragile maiden.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you ain’t, what you are is a big pain in my ass. I don’t get paid enough for this shit, so I’m takin’ what I’m owed.”

The reality of your situation settled in when you felt cool air sweep across your freshly exposed breasts. Your initial thought was to kick him, but when you felt him dig the blade a little too deep into the clothes at your belly, you hesitated. One wrong move and he could be slicing you open accidentally.

Your wrists pounded with lack of blood flow as you painstakingly tested the knots for slack again. Of course, there wasn’t any. He’d probably tied up hundreds of unfortunate souls in his miserable lifetime.

A thrill raced across your skin as you heard the knife clatter into the floor, Kenny peeling away the layers of split clothes on your body like he was prudently opening the petals of a rare flower.

“Well, well, look at you, kid.”

Grey eyes swirled with mirth and mischief under the brim of his hat, a wicked smile curling across bearded cheeks.

You felt vulnerable and far too hot, the heat of embarrassment licking over your chest, up your neck, burning at your ears. Worse, blazing excitement was pooling between your legs, the dull thump of pleasure beginning to pound in your head.

A calloused hand began to paw at the fat of your breast, testing the weight of it in his palm.

“You’re a fucking pervert.”

“Never said I ain’t.”

He flicked your nipple with his comment, chuckling as you gasped. The slight twinge of pain sent a jolt of lightning down your spine, making your fingers dig into the thick rope at your wrists and your head tilt back against the wall. Kenny repeated the motion, rubbing his warm thumb over your nipple before flicking it again. You sucked in a quick breath, making your lungs expand and breasts inch closer to his hands.

“You like that?” He teased, a finger tracing the sensitive underside of your breast.

“No.”

He laughed, “Liar. Your pretty nipples are harder than my cock.”

Kenny proved his point by cupping both your tits and making you moan, back arching toward him instead of away. Seeing the opportunity, he moved in closer, making the remnants of your skirts bunch around your hips as he pressed himself between your legs. You turned your face away from him when he dipped down to kiss you, making his wet lips and wiry beard press into the curve of your throat.

He sucked at the tender flesh of your neck, teeth and growls gently scraping against skin.

“What’s my pa going to think about you taking advantage of me like this?”

You knew you made a good point—unless Kenny had decided to pack some petticoats and powder into his saddle bags, he couldn’t cover up the carnage he was creating.

“I’m your daddy for tonight, kid. Maybe if you’re good I won’t even take you home this time.”

“Really?” You knew your voice portrayed your enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help it. You’d do anything to be free of your family and go make a life of your own.

Kenny took his time thinking over his response, too busy licking and sucking at the delicate column of your throat. It felt good, too good, even the scratch of his beard had you holding back whimpers. His long fingers were still groping your tits, thumbs rhythmically petting over your peaks.

You felt like you were engulfed in flames, like the hellfire and brimstone that bible-thumpers warned about were taking over your senses. All because of fucking Kenny Ackerman, the dirtiest old man you’d ever come across.

Though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined something like this before, it was hard not to when most of your time had been spent tied up on a saddle with him. The pervert always had the audacity to have his half-hard erection pressing into your lower back as you shifted on the smelly horse. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel to have him inside of you when the horse’s trot had his cock sliding too perfectly against your ass. You’d spent a few nights imagining how he would manhandle you, rough and impatient, and far more skilled than the boys you’d fooled around with.

Kenny was a dirty old man, but you had no doubt he could fulfill every naughty fantasy women like you weren’t supposed to dream about.

You shifted forward a bit, draping your thighs over his so you could get closer, press your aching core against that familiar stiffness in his trousers.

“I’ll be a good girl, daddy,” you let the name roll off your tongue as you tilted your face down to his, “I promise.”

You sealed your vow by pressing your mouth to his, a victorious frisson tingling at your nerves when he groaned into your lips. His kiss was rough, one of his hands snaking up to your neck with a vice-like grip to keep you from changing your mind. It made your vision go blurry behind your eyelids, grey spots dancing in the corners of your lashes. He tasted like booze and smoke, remnants of his addictions tainting your tongue. But you kept up with his pace, eager to show him that you would be good, that you wanted this, that you’d let him have you. Even if he did take you back home anyways, at least you’d get a thrilling fuck out of this arrangement.

“You ain’t never been a good girl,” he rumbled against your lips, “daddy’s gonna have to teach you how to behave.”

You gasped when he used his leverage on your neck to push you farther into the creaking boards of the wall. Your wrists were trapped between your back and the floor, going more numb by the second. He caged you in completely, had you sitting in his lap with his cock pressed against your damp drawers and one hand tangling into the mess of your skirts.

“Women and all their fucking clothes,” he snarled down at your half-dressed body. Your eyes went wide as you noticed him reach back for the discarded blade, his other hand still content to press against the sides of your neck.

“W-wait, I don’t have anything else to wear!”

“You ain’t going to be needin’ em anyways, kid.”

Time slowed down like the creeping slush of molasses as you watched Kenny begin to slice through your dress and petticoat, each tug of his wrist sending cotton fibers spilling into the floor. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and sweat beading on the back of your neck every time the spine of the knife grazed the freshly exposed skin of your thighs. You struggled against the rope and the hand holding you back when he began to cut through the length of your drawers. The blade was too close to your intimate places, grazing against your sweltering flesh and making you whimper.

“I ain’t gonna cut you, darlin. As much as I wanna carve my name into your skin, I couldn’t stand hurtin’ you.”

You swallowed thickly and he must’ve felt it, his thumb petting at your neck like he was trying to soothe a scared animal. He stopped cutting at your clothing, lifting his pointed chin so he could look up into your face. He grinned, soft but still wolfish, wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Gimme a kiss, it’ll make you feel better.”

You complied, perhaps too happily, slanting your mouth against his and moaning at the rough feel of his black hairs against your cheeks.

Kenny ripped the rest of the threads from your body with his strong fingers, finishing the work that the knife had started. A weight was lifted off of you when your heavy skirts and the skeleton of your corset finally slipped into the floor to be forgotten. He took particular care in relieving you of your cotton drawers, the shadow of his hat obscuring his face as he marveled at the juncture of your thighs.

“Look at that pretty pussy, all wet and sloppy just for me.”

You cried out when he brushed a knuckle between your dripping folds, finger slowly uncurling so it could prod at your tight hole.

“You always get this wet when you’re around me?”

“Hard not to when you’re always groping me like some animal.”

His gaze flickered back up to you, the mixture of a frown and a smirk tugging at his lips. He pressed his palm more firmly against your windpipe, making you choke.

“Don’t know why I bothered to ungag your smart mouth.”

“I’ll be goo—” you didn’t have the chance to finish your plea, his long fingers uncurling from your neck only for two of them to abruptly slide past your open lips. Your eyes watered a bit from the thrusting motion of his digits and you could feel your moans vibrate against his skin. He started to push his fingers farther into your mouth, seeing how far he could go before your throat tightened, smirking the whole time. His skin tasted like rawhide and copper, like leather and blood, and you breathlessly traced your tongue along his slim knuckles.

“Your mouth looks better stuffed,” his other hand resumed teasing your lower lips, “Let’s see how many fingers you can take.”

You almost bit the knuckles in your mouth when he shoved his middle and index fingers into your tight cunt. You muffled out a squeal, eyes rolling shut when a wave of pleasure splashed over your body with the timing of his fingers pushing inside of you. He wasted no time in stretching you, spreading his strong fingers as he withdrew and pressed back inside of you over and over again.

Your tongue went still and flat in your mouth, spit pooling around slim fingers that still pressed farther back into your throat with every thrust of his hand between your legs. You could practically hear him grinning like a madman with both of his calloused hands pressing into two of your wet holes. You sucked around his fingers when he touched a sensitive, fleshy patch inside of you, fingers curling against your walls and stroking the spot repeatedly.

Weightless, you felt weightless in Kenny’s lap, like each thrust of his fingers into your mouth and pussy was sending you higher into the clouds. Even your own fingers had gone limp behind you, no longer clinging to their binds.

“Not bad, kid. How about another?”

You screamed around his hand when his ring finger stretched your opening wider, your pussy burning from its invasion. He laughed, a sadistic rumble from his chest that vibrated against your tits. At the feel of your cry, he pushed the fingers against your tongue even farther down to the back of your mouth, making you fight your gag reflex and sputter. Spit was falling from the corners of your mouth and you could feel your slick drooling down your thighs and onto his pumping wrist between your legs.

“Good girl,” he praised, picking up his already merciless pace, “daddy’s got a big cock, need you to be ready for it.”

Kenny groaned when you nodded your head, eyes fluttering open to catch his gaze. Some twisted pleasure brewed in your lower stomach as you noticed his lopsided grin, pearl white teeth bared over his full lips.

“I bet you look so fucking pretty when you cum. Think you can? Can you cum from an old man stuffin’ you full of fingers, darlin?”

You shivered at his words, your thighs shaking as you felt like you were being pulled apart. The three fingers inside of you knew exactly how to make your head go fuzzy and your nerves wild with pleasure, and it only got more intense when his thumb began to circle your already aching clit. You whimpered around his fingers, finding a momentary reprieve when he pulled them from your lips and admired the drool flowing over his knuckles. But he slid them back in after you caught a quick breath, pumping them at the same speed as the fingers buried into your cunt.

It was like you were brimming and boiling over with the taste and feel of Kenny. Your mind could barely keep up with the shots of ecstasy stemming from your belly, your toes curling against the cold floor, your wrists rubbed raw from rope. Your lower muscles were starting to clench, spasm, shake, and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re gettin’ tight. But I’ve got one more place to try.”

Your brows scrunched together when you felt his ring finger slip from your pussy, only to feel his slim pinky finger prod at the tight pucker of your ass.

“Kemmy, mf, umph,” you struggled to speak with his fingers stuffed in your mouth.

You finally bit against his skin when you felt the length of his smallest finger slither into your ass.

The new sensation rocked you, had you gasping and leaning forward and gagging on his fingers and cumming all at the same time. You screamed as you felt your asshole tighten around his digit, the pleasure of it sending you raring into bliss at full force like you’d just been slammed into a wall. It felt so fucking good, every hole stuffed with him, every muscle clenching and unclenching as he had the nerve to laugh at how easily you came from feeling a finger in your ass.

“Heh, seems you like that, don’tcha?” He let you ride out the remnants of your orgasm for a few moments, fingers still and just feeling you contract around him.

Finally, he worked on setting you free of his hold. He took his time with it, each finger sliding out of you painfully slow like he was slowly uncorking a pent-up bottle of champagne. With your mouth free first, you took your time breathing and gathering your wits, looking down into the floor as shame crept over your body. It was all so nasty and dirty, and when he pulled his fingers out from between your legs, you knew all you wanted was more of it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, surprised when he lifted your chin and placed a rather chaste kiss against your messy mouth.

“I take it you’ve never had somethin’ in your ass?”

“N-no, but it…”

“Feels good, yeah?”

You shot him a suspicious look, “How would you know?”

“I’ve been around, kid.”

Kenny groaned as he sat back, moving you off his lap.

“My knees are too fucking old for this. Get on the bed.”

You didn’t know how you could. Your legs felt like pudding and your hands were completely numb behind your back. Kenny walked to the corner of the small bedroom, pulling his suspenders down so he could toss his shirt into the floor. You struggled to move, eyeing the knife in the floor carefully so you didn’t accidentally cut yourself as you fumbled like a little fawn gaining her legs.

You enjoyed the feel of standing for a moment, leaning back against the wall in all your sloppy nakedness as you watched Kenny dip his hands into the wash bin.

This was the last thing you expected when you woke up this morning. You’d been free, ready to get started on a cornbread and bean breakfast, only to be kidnapped before you could even lace up your shoes. Now you were watching Kenny Ackerman get undressed and hang that signature bowler hat on the back of the door.

He looked better without the hat. In fact, he looked so much better naked.

He had sun kissed skin on his arms and neck from working in the sun, lean sinews of muscle carved over his chest, his thighs. He was dusted in wiry black hair, like someone had taken ash from a fire and doused him in it. And his cock was hard and proud between his legs, long and curved up toward his stomach. Your ego spiked at the thought that you’d made him that way; you were the reason his swollen head was leaking and twitching.

“Can I touch you now?”

“What?” He looked puzzled, running a hand through his dark, shoulder length hair. It looked longer than when you last saw him.

You moved toward him on still shaky legs, making a show of pulling at your hands bound behind your back.

“Shit, I forgot you were tied up. But you gotta promise me when I cut you loose you ain’t just gonna sprint out that door.”

“I don’t have any clothes, Kenny.”

He laughed genuinely at that, scratching at the back of his neck. He’d have to remedy that tomorrow, go out and buy you something to wear so he didn’t parade you around town naked as the day you were born.

You stayed still as he reached for that big knife of his on the floor, settling up behind you to start gnawing the blade through the thick rope. Your shoulders felt at ease when you felt the slack begin to set into your binds, the last bit of hemp audibly slicing away. You pulled your hands in front of you, immediately rubbing at the raw spots on your wrists. They’d be bruised tomorrow, scab over by the next day.

Kenny wrapped his arms around you from behind, hands first skimming over your shoulders and upper arms.

“If you didn’t have such a bad habit of runnin’, I wouldn’t have to do that to you, kid.”

“You’d run away if you had my life, too.”

You knew you didn’t need to fill in the blanks for him. He’d been around long enough to know the ins and outs of your story.

“Suppose I would.”

He kissed your neck as he walked you to the bed, turning you around so he could crawl up the naked expanse of your body as you laid back against the hay stuffed mattress.

“Someone as pretty as you don’t deserve someone like me chasin’ after you.” But his confession didn’t stop him from settling between your thighs and bending down to suck one of your nipples into his eager mouth. You moaned, elated to have your hands free so you could tangle your fingers into his long hair.

“I told you,” you gasped when he bit into your skin hard enough to leave marks, “I like the chase.”

He licked a long, hot stripe between the valley of your breasts before bringing his face back to yours. You kept your hands in his hair as he leaned down to kiss you, all brute force and greedy tongue like you’d gotten used to before. You were just as hungry for him, your body feeling fresh and ripe after your orgasm and ready to be filled again. You bit at his lower lip, smirking when you got a reaction from him. Your tongue began to map the insides of his mouth, letting the taste of him overwhelm you.

Kenny was impatient, gripping your hips and spreading you apart again.

“I like you better when you’re submissive.” He murmured into your mouth, skilled fingers spreading your pussy so the fat head of his cock could rub against you.

“I said I would be a good girl, daddy.”

His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan, “I can’t fucking handle you calling me that, kid.”

“Oh yeah? Is me calling you daddy going to make you cream early, old man?”

He slid his cock inside of you rough and fast to shut you up. Your head fell farther back against the pillow as you mewled, his fingers still having not prepared you for the feel of his stretching you open. Your walls were snug against him; you could feel every throbbing vein under his silken skin dragging against your insides as he pulled out and pushed into you slowly.

Each thrust had euphoria blooming from your stomach and spreading across all your extremities. It was like you could suddenly feel everything, the pleasure making the world around you sharpen. Kenny was breathing hotly into your neck, your nipples were painfully hard and sliding against the dark, downy hairs of his chest. Your fingers were coming back to life, your nails scraping against the greyed roots of his hair. Your toes were curling in the air, your thighs and hips burning from bearing the heaviness of Kenny between them. Both your heart and his were beating fast, blood pumping as if in the same drumline together.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he drawled, “s-so fucking soft, so tight.”

Little sounds were leaving your parted lips, eyes struggling to stay open as each plunge of Kenny’s cock was engulfing you with ecstasy. He was starting to get a bit punishing with his movements, moving hard and fast inside of you and making you forget yourself. His nails were biting into the fatty flesh of your hips, where half-moon marks would surely adorn your skin in the morning. You’d have hickies on your neck too, especially now as he sunk his teeth into the tender spot where your throat met your shoulder.

God it felt good to be used, to be wanted. And you knew Kenny wanted you, he’d even said he wanted to carve his name into your skin. Something inside of you told you that he’d want to own you, if you’d let him. You caught a lot of his longing gazes before, whether in the back of the saloon he frequented or the ridiculous dance halls your family drug you to. You’d often wondered if he would fuck you against a wall if you tempted him to, and now you had your long-awaited answer.

“Oh daddy,” you purred, both purposely and not, little oh’s and mhm’s following behind.

The name spurred Kenny into a new gait. He shifted back onto his knees swiftly, the same hand from before resuming its chokehold on your neck. You moaned at the familiar contact, the sound trapped behind his spread fingers. He had more power behind his hips from this angle, sending his cock deeper into your depths and into places his long fingers couldn’t reach from before. Your eyes squeezed shut, tiny gasps all that could be formed behind the wall of his hand.

“Who knew you were such a little slut, darlin. Might keep you around after all.”

Your tits were bouncing in rhythm with his relentless assault, your hands now fisting into the feather pillow next to your face.

“F-fucking shit, I—” you were going stupid, is what you were. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your brain felt foggy in your head.

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth on ya,” Kenny put more pressure behind the fist around your neck, the lack of oxygen making it even harder to think than before, “you really do need a daddy to teach you some, fuck, s-some fucking manners.”

All you could do was nod, completely lost to the feeling of him encompassing you, filling you.

His free hand pulled at one of your limp legs, hoisting it up and over his shoulder. He smothered your skin with wet kisses, nipping at your ankle and chuckling when he felt the bubbled squeal beneath his palm. The hair on his torso tickled the back of your thigh, adding a new layer of sensation that you didn’t think you could handle. It was too much—Kenny was too much, fucking into you like a feral beast that just got his first taste of sweet flesh.

“You’re never gettin’ away from me again,” he hissed out between gritted teeth, “you’re mine now.”

You couldn’t think to respond. Kenny unwrapped his hand from your throat, letting that blood flow return to your head.

“You hear me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All you could focus on was the drumming of his cock hitting your insides, the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy sucking him in.

The sound of him slapping his hand across your check registered before the pain did. You gasped as your head swung with the force, the side of your face smarting with a throbbing sting.

“Say you’re mine, kid.” Seriousness laced his tone, those dangerous, long fingers grasping at your jaw and pulling you to look at him. He leaned forward, curling your leg with him, making you groan at the pleasure and pain mixing as he tested your flexibility. He kept moving inside of you, pace never faltering.

“Fucking. Say. It.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline, a strange concoction of fear and bliss spreading over your consciousness.

“Y-yours,” you croaked out, wetting your lips with your tongue, “I’m yours, Kenny!”

You didn’t mean to scream it, but it seemed to please him, that lecherous grin of his spreading over his lips.

“That’s fucking right. I own this tight, pretty little pussy.”

He released your jaw only to slap you again, quicker and softer this time, and you moaned the moment he made contact.

“You like getting slapped around?”

You turned your face back to him, smirking through the sting, “yes, daddy.”

The devilishness that swirled in his eyes made your stomach flip. He paused the movements of his hips, letting your cunt flutter and clench at his stilled cock. Your breathing picked up as you registered what was about to happen.

Kenny hit you with the back of his hand this time, bony knuckles thumping with the quick flick of his wrist. Without his cock moving inside of you, all you could do was bask in the stinging pain left behind on your cheeks. It felt so wrong, but it made the coil in your belly tighten like never before.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, your balled fists releasing the pillow.

Without a second thought, you grabbed at his hair, jerking him down to meet your mouth.

“You better cum inside me after that, daddy, I think I deserve it.”

“Oh, you deserve it darlin,” he started pumping inside of you again, sending your head flying back and his mouth landing on the pulse of your neck, “gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

His movements were cruel, fast, cock ramming inside of you so harshly that you felt it all the way in your throat. Your hand slipped from his hair and found purchase on his back, nails scraping against sweaty flesh. You could feel his rough skin splitting, but you didn’t care, all that mattered anymore was the way his cock slid in between your gummy walls, the way he was moaning your name like a fucking prayer against your skin.

Kenny’s thumb found your clit, swirling quick, brutal circles over your swollen bud. You could feel yourself clench around him, the sharp pleasure almost painful. You were going to explode. You were going to topple over in ecstasy and it was all because of the wickedness of the dirty old man inside of you.

“K-Kenny, holy f-fucking god, I-I—”

He must have felt it before you did. Hot ropes of cum were seeping inside of you the moment you hit the high point of orgasm. Your nails slid down the entirety of his back, slim, warm rivulets of blood following in their wake.

It was like the bliss never ended. You were caught in the waves of it, each one cresting and falling over and over again as you milked his cock dry, slick and cum pooling between your thighs and soaking the linens.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Kenny placed a delicate hand between your breasts, like he was trying to slow it down for you. His small act made the world narrow in around you; the remnants of stinging pain and excruciating pleasure still hummed, but you fell into the quiet of just listening to the two of you breath for a few moments.

Eventually, your toes went numb. You’d fully forgotten the poor leg that had been curled over his shoulder. You shifted to move, and Kenny got the hint, finally pulling his spent cock from inside of you and rolling over on his back.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, hand reaching over his shoulder as he met the mattress, “you’ve got fucking claws.”

You had half a mind to apologize, but you didn’t bother, still basking in the afterglow of sex. Your body was tired, wrists still aching, thighs shaking.

“You alright?” A warm hand found your cheek, even hotter lips pressing to yours in a soft kiss.

“Mhm, more than alright.”

“Didn’t know you had that in you, kid.”

Kenny pulled you into his chest, long arm curling around your back. His fingers traced soft, swirling patterns on your hip, and you nearly shuddered as you remembered those were the same movements he’d used to abuse your clit. You curled one of your legs over his, needing to get closer, those pesky after-sex hormones and needs clawing at your instincts.

It felt oddly like home to be pressed up against him, your face against his chest, one of your hands mimicking his and drawing circling in his damp chest hair. He smelled like home, anyways, like earth and spices.

“You gonna take me home?”

He was quiet for a second, pressing his lips into your hairline.

“Nah, I’ll take you someplace safe. Maybe buy you a fucking train ticket so you can get out of this part of the world.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep me?”

“Now don’t fucking tempt me with that, kid.”

“I wouldn’t mind being yours, you know.”

“You don’t wanna be mine, even if I make you say that shit when I’m fuckin’ you.”

You knew he was right, but you didn’t offer him an affirmation.

Maybe you’d let him fuck you for a few more days before you ventured off on your own, maybe you’d convince him to chase you down a few more times just for the thrill of it. Maybe you’d wrap your fists around his suspenders and convince him to run away with you.

You did like Kenny, after all. Even if he was such a perverted, disgusting old man.

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