I'm sorry for being absent for months, but to make it up I got a new hyperfixation and wound up writing a new story:

Warning: contains soft, safe vore and mentions of panicking.

It came to no surprise after everything that happened that Gordon was a little jumpy when it came to certain things. The dark, gunshots, sudden loud noises. Hell, sometimes even the sweet voice made him jump if it was shrill enough. Even as months passed and Benrey wasn't acting as antagonistic as they had before, it still caught him by surprise. 

So of course, when a sudden high note rang through the house, he grew wary. 

He was folding laundry when it happened, and he jumped, the fabric falling out of his hands. Immediately after he registered what it had been, he swore. 

"Dammit, what did I tell you about being so loud with that?" 

Sometimes he knew his roommate couldn't help it. The person was an eldritch alien being, after all, and he didn't know everything about them. But there were a lot of times they would do it just to get a kick out of him. 

So when he didn't get a response, his worry only grew. "Benrey?" He called, waiting for a moment to see if he would receive some kind of answer. But like before, there was silence. 

He picked up the shirt from where it had fallen onto the bed and tossed it back into the basket before turning to go check their room. 

It wasn't completely quiet in the house, the music from whatever game they had been playing before the shriek- it sounded similar to minecraft's soundtracks- rang softly through the hall. 

It was only interrupted by Gordon knocking on the door. "Benrey?" 

Usually, he got a response, whether it was a taunt or even them no clipping through the door to answer them, there was hardly ever a time in which they didn't at least acknowledge that Gordon was looking for them. But this time, the silence only continued. Anxiety welled in his being, making his chest feel heavy.

If Benrey was playing a prank on him with this, he was going to kick their ass. 

He opened the door, ready to… Well, he wasn't sure what exactly to expect but he was sure he'd be prepared enough to handle it. As the door swung open, he was met with the music getting louder, being closer to the source, a few fading orbs of teal sweet voice, and a missing alien.  

Teal, what did teal mean again? 

Tommy thought it would be a good idea for him to make a general list of the sweet voice colors and meanings after agreeing to let Benrey be his roommate. If he remembered correctly, teal had a few meanings, and the only one that made a small amount of sense to their disappearance was surprise. 

Benrey could teleport, so maybe they forgot they agreed to do something and got reminded? But why wouldn't they tell him before they left? Did something happen? Gordon's mind was running, throwing together different scenarios, each one worse than the previous.

There was a thud, not exactly loud, but enough to get his attention. That, and a shadow suddenly covering his room through the window. He halfway debated going to find something to defend himself before looking, but if it were just a bird he'd feel silly. It wouldn't explain the shadow, but.. whatever. There was a plate of glass between him and whatever caused the thud, so at least he could run. He quickly walked over and pulled the curtain back, finding… nothing. Well, not nothing, but it certainly wasn't the view of the yard it had once been. Instead, it was a solid sheet of dark blue. Almost like the color of Benrey's hoodie. 

And just like that, his mind jumped to the worst. 

They grew back to the size they were in Xen, they got bored of being under the radar and they're trying to attack them again- 

Okay Gordon, breathe. 

Why would they choose now of all times to do it? Especially out in the open like this? There was probably a good explanation for this, if he could even get one from Benrey. 

If he could even go talk to Benrey at this height. 

The thought of it made him shake, he couldn't deny that. Yea, they changed and weren't as bad to deal with, but they had also tried to kill the whole science team, not to mention the ambush. 

Taking a shaky breath, he pulled his phone out. If Benrey was too much at the moment, then maybe their friend could help. Tommy knew more about Benrey than any of them. 

G- Hey Tommy, I've got a question. 

T- Hi, mister Freeman! What do you need? 

G- Okay, so do you know why Benrey would change their size? 

T- well, their human form isn't their real form, so sometimes they'll change their form to fit that form better. 

Well, that made sense, he guessed. But why the sweet voice? 

G- Okay, but they also left a trail of teal when they left. With a really high pitched noise. Does that mean anything different because of their shifting? 

Gordon wasn't sure he liked how long the three dots played on the screen, appearing and disappearing as if Tommy was re-writing what he wrote. 

Finally, after one last time, the message appeared. 

T- It might have come as a surprise? It's instinct for them to be in their real form, and sometimes they might forget to do it before it takes over. 

G- I guess. Thanks, Tommy. 

T- No problem! Are you going to talk to them? 

G- At this height? Probably not. 

T- I think you should. I think they'll appreciate it, at least try to! :)

G- I guess. 

Well, he knew Tommy probably wouldn't fault him for not going through with it. With a sigh, he shut his phone off and put it back in his pocket. 

He guessed it couldn't exactly hurt to try. And maybe have a long talk about what all to expect from his roommate, because they had said nothing about growing since Xen. 

He made it to the front door before he hesitated again. He didn't think Benrey would try to attack him again, but what if they did? He was completely defenseless this time, there would be nothing to stop them from actually killing him. He shivered at the thought. But, he told Tommy he'd try, and he was this far already. He could probably stay distanced far enough that he could see if Benrey was going to try anything. 

With that in mind, he steeled himself and walked out the door, rounding the corner of the house only to falter in his steps. 

They were huge. For just a second, he saw the dark red chamber of Xen, and his breath caught in his throat. 

No, this wasn't Xen. This is his backyard, bright and cheery compared to, plus Benrey didn't have a hoodie before Xen. He was fine, they weren't trying to kill him now. He repeated that, and breathed with the numbers, until he finally felt steady again. Within that time, the alien had yet to see him, their head leaning against the roof, faced away from him. 

"Hey!" 

That got a quick shrill note of teal sweet voice before their head turned to meet his gaze. 

Did their eyes always glow that bright? "Oh, hey. Sup." 

"Not much, other than you being absolutely fucking humongous. Seriously, man, how many more abilities are you hiding?" 

"Wanna find out?" 

He was about to open his mouth to decline his offer, on instinct, but he stopped himself. Benrey was really just offering to have this conversation? No fussing? 

"Sure, man. Tell me what else you can do so you don't fucking scare me again."

"Wha- you got scared? Lil' chicken hat?" A smirk stretched the corners of their mouth. "Fuck off. You can't just grow big suddenly and not expect people to freak out. Nobody here is that fucking big." "Yea, lameass humans stuck all tiny and shit." There was something else said quietly, but their voice was rumbling as is and it was completely muffled. Not that Gordon really cared at that moment, he just wanted to know what else to expect from the alien before him. 

"Whatever. What even caused you to grow? Tommy said it was instincts." They seemed to freeze for a split second, not answering long enough to swallow back the sweet voice trying to escape. 

"Yea. Kinda sucks, being trapped in a small bod all the time." That seemed slightly rushed, if Gordon was being honest. "Well, what other instincts do you get? Kinda need to be aware of this stuff if you're living with me, dude." 

If they weren't trying to hide anything before, they certainly were now. He watched their shoulders hunch slightly, their eyes leave him and, of course, sweet voice leaking from their mouth. It.. was still teal? 

"Come on, you can't be that surprised about me asking that." 

That little pinprick of worry made itself right back at home in Gordon when instead of a snarky remark, Benrey sat in silence for a long moment. "S' not that teal." 

Okay,  maybe Benrey was still trying to fuck with him. His shoulders dropped only by a fraction, though. 

"That makes no sense. The only other teal there would be other than with green is hungry. And it's not like you can't go find something to eat at that size." 

"S' not that hungry, either. You can go back inside, I'll shrink down later." 

Wow, was that not concerning at all.

But Gordon couldn't- no, wouldn't  just leave after a remark like that, because honestly? Out of all the weird things he's heard Benrey say, that's one of the things that he can't puzzle out. He'd reason that the giant wasn't hungry at all, but the way they're acting is really throwing him off.

"What do you mean, 'not that hungry'?" He had taken a few steps forward during the course of their conversation, but when Benrey turned to look at him, pupils blown wide and an almost- okay, a hungry look on their face-, he regretted being so close. His heart twisted painfully, and he had to fight with the lump in his throat so he could speak. 

"Um.. whatcha planning there, Benrey?" He took a step backwards slowly, hoping that it wouldn't trigger any sort of other instinct into seeing him as prey. Anymore than it already is, apparently. 

Benrey blinked, and his pupils shrank. "Whuh? M' not planning anything. You're the one who asked, idiot." Okay, insults definitely not helping. An icy feeling crept down his spine as he took another step back. "Okay, so why won't you explain all.. this?" He waved a hand towards the alien. "What does any of this mean? And why hide it? You didn't really hide any of your other abilities." 

He could distinctly remember one of his first conversations with them being that they admitted to not being human. Didn’t really hide the teleporting or respawning either. 

"Yea but most of those I can control. Plus, it's private information, why would I share that with someone who doesn't have their passport?" He purposely ignored most of the words that they used. 

"Because I'm trying to get past all of the weird shit but if I don't know what the hell I'm dealing with, there's no way to? I'm making an effort to learn about you, man. The least you can do is help." He huffed, standing his ground. At this point, he was more annoyed than scared. 

At least he's not moving away anymore. 

Out of anything to happen with their instincts, it had to be Gordon to find him. Just their luck. And they could tell he was getting scared of them. They couldn't blame him, but it didn't make them feel any better about the situation. 

"It's really not that big a deal, just something common for my species. Doesn't involve you." 

"Hate to break it to you, but since you're living with me, it kinda does." "Doesn't mean it won't freak you out." "Fine, does Tommy know, then?" "..No." 

His brow quirked, and at his current miniscule height, it was a comedic sight. If it weren't such a serious conversation, they would have laughed. As it was, a thought crossed their mind. 

Gordon said he talked to Tommy earlier, didn't he? What all did he spill? It didn't seem like Gordon knew about the storing thing, so maybe Tommy saved them. Or doomed them to have to explain themself. Dammit. 

"So if I called him, right now, he wouldn't know what you were talking about?" "Don't do that. Tommy's busy. With, uh.. dog stuff." 

"I'm pretty sure he can multitask." With that, his hand moved- at his size, it was hard to see what he was doing, but it didn't have to take Sherlock to deduct what he was planning. Without thinking, their hand moved faster. 

"Wh- dude, what the fuck! Put me down!" 

Oh, he was in their hand now, curled in a loose fist. Closer than he had been before.

At this height, he was extremely fragile compared to them. A single false move could end horribly. The urge to protect him only grew stronger. Plus, it had been a long time since Gordon had been so small compared to them. They could feel his legs kicking at the bottom of their hand, and something fluttered inside his palm. 

He couldn't tell if the rapid pulse was from the humans hands or his heart. That was what cleared their mind enough to think past their instinct. After a moment of thinking, they figured the human was smart enough to not try and jump off their hand, and turned their hand as they unfurled it, causing the man to clumsily fall into his open palm. "Whoops." 

It took a moment for him to recover. 

He hadn't actually thought that Benrey would make a grab for him, and for a solid minute his brain couldn't think past a single thought. 

Panic. Fight or flight finally kicked in, and he squirmed to the best of his ability against the hold on him. He was still frantic to escape, the almost blank stare they gave him making him extremely uneasy, but he couldn't help but note how gentle the hold had been. It didn't hurt, nor did it make it hard to breathe. Even so, it didn't make it okay, especially when the only apology he got was being tossed onto their open hand with a 'whoops.'

"Dont fucking 'whoops' me! You can't just grab people without their permission! What were you thinking?!" A shrug. He didn't fight the yell in frustration that bubbled out of him. 

"Well, don't make such a big deal out of things, lil.. fussman." "Big deal out of what? Wanting you to not hide shit from me?" "'M only hiding what you don't wanna find out, man. Protecting you." 

"I'm asking to know what you're talking about! If I don't like the answer, then that's on me! This shouldn't have even gotten to this point, dude! Just tell me already!" 

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." He wasn't prepared to be lifted higher to Benrey's face, stumbling slightly with a yelp. They waited for him to get adjusted before explaining, now at a close enough point that they could easily see the human's face.

Being so close to them, Gordon could see the hesitation in their eyes before they started. 

"The sweet voice means hungry, but not hungry for food. We have a thing where we can hold smaller things we care for in us, like an extreme hug." It seemed they were going to say more, but they ended with a (thankfully soft) trail of sweet voice. This one was a pearl-like color, which he had learned meant worry.  

They waited anxiously while Gordon processed what they said. 

"Wait, holding people in you.. so.. you eat the people you care about?" Ah, there it was. The panic had resurfaced. "Yea, and?" "And?  That kills people!" "What? No, it doesn't." 

"What, is your species incapable of digesting things? Because I'm not buying that shit after seeing half the things you eat, man." The human was figiting, and Benrey feared that he might throw rational thought out the window and jump off anyway. Their other hand came up, close enough to help if he tried anything. It didn't help that their mind had other ideas to keep him from running. 

"No, they don't go to the same place food goes. They go to a different pouch for holding friends." 

Right, Benrey's a shapeshifter. Can't forget that. 

"Okay. So you have the ability to safely eat people that are close to you. And that's an instinct thing?" They nodded, and he noticed that their pupils had dilated again. 

Wait.. do they want to eat me? 

He must have had a hard time hiding the fear, because their eyes softened after a moment. "Won't do it if you don't want to. But you're all tiny and vulnerable, easy to hurt, and I'm not. Can protect you, that's what the instinct's about." 

Oh. That would make sense, like taking care of their young. But even then, the idea of being eaten, even if he knew it was safe, was just a little unnerving. 

Not to mention the fact that their size was still reminding them of Black Mesa, and everything that had come with it. 

Their gaze trailed Gordon's hand as it rubbed against the scar above his prosthetic subconsciously, his eyes starting to glaze as his mind drifted. They didn't need to think hard about where his mind was going. 

"Don't have to do it, dude. Here." They started lowering their hand to the ground, slowly to not make him panic. The sudden jolt brought him back, and he looked up at Benrey. 

Their eyes were never good at betraying emotion. Usually, it was their sweet voice that told him how the eldritch was feeling. At that moment, though, he could see concern. 

Genuine concern. About him. 

"I- hang on." The hand stopped abruptly, throwing him off balance again, but he had a bigger topic on his mind than the slight inconvenience. 

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with doing that, but I'm not… afraid of you because of it. Like I said, I asked to know, so it's on me if I didn't like it.." Oh, he was rambling. He tended to do that when he was worked up, and this was quite a situation to get worked up about. He was only interrupted by a quick note from above, followed by the smell of blue raspberry. 

"Need to calm down. Getting all fussy again."  

Despite the flood of calm through his body, he couldn't help the huff of annoyance. "I'm tryin' to make you feel better, dick." "And 'm fine, I'm a great cool. I'll shrink down a little later and be back inside. Just gotta wait it out." 

"And you're just going to sit out here. Alone."

"Yea?" 

With that, Gordon got himself situated on the hand that held him and took a deep breath. "Well, not while I'm here. I'm not gonna just leave you alone to your thoughts." 

He got bbb'd in response, before he was lifted back to where he was before. 

...their teeth definitely weren't that blunt earlier, he was certain about that. "Thats, uh, on you then. Like you said earlier." 

"You said you wouldn't do it without my permission." "You never outright refused, either." 

Didn't he? 

Now that he thought about it.. he hadn't said no. Just that he didn't know how he would handle it. Their pupils had bloomed to cover most of their eyes, and focused solely on him. It made him feel uneasy, but it's not like they could stop it. 

"I guess I didn't…" He swallowed, hard, as Benrey awaited a specific phrase. He could back down. He would probably get set on the ground and see them in a few hours. 

Or he could pull himself together and try to help them settle the instinct for a while. It really didn't seem like they wanted to hurt him, otherwise they would have by now. 

"Just how much would this help?" "A lot." 

As rare as it occurred, he felt like they were telling the truth. 

"I… fuck it. Why not? Just.. don't ignore me. If I want out, let me out." "Well, yea." They said it like it was the most obvious thing, and he knew that was the best agreement he'd get. "Okay. Ready as I'll ever be, I guess. Not exactly what I thought I'd do today, but.." He trailed off as he was brought closer to the mouth before him, and God, just how tiny was he compared to Benrey right now? The height comparison had always been off, but in Xen he was kinda focused on not dying. Now,  he couldn't help the thought. He was tiny. 

Probably big enough to fit in their mouth, though. 

He wasn't sure what to expect from this, but he should have seen the tongue coming. As is, it got him from his torso up, warm and large. He hadn't expected it, but it hadn't exactly scared him. When they pulled back, he grumbled as his vision remained blurred. 

Fucker licked my glasses. I should have taken them off. His hair was also starting to stick to his forehead, wet with saliva. He removed the offending frames and held them to the side, rubbing his face with his sleeve. "How about a warning, next time? So I can take these off before you fucking ruin them." His answer was a chuckle, and he felt two trunk-like fingers gently close over his hand, taking the glasses out of his grasp. "I'll just take them. Problem solved." "Problem solved except I'm fucking blind." "'S not like you'll need to see where you're going." "Keep fucking around and I'll just go back inside." 

"Wha- no, man, come on. Don't leave, please?" He sighed, imagining the puppy eyes they were making through the blurred shapes he could see. "Fine. Let's do this." 

"'Kay." 

And then his legs were enveloped in warmth. His hands gripped at the palm underneath him, startled at the sudden change. As he tensed, everything stilled around him. He took a minute to gather himself, then gave a nod to continue. 

He was pulled in to his waist next, but it didn't startle him as badly this time. In fact, compared to how warm it was in Benrey's mouth, it was kinda chilly out here. His hands had just left their palm to wrap around the part of his torso that remained out, when he felt their tongue curl under him and he was pulled in the rest of the way. 

There was a soft click as their teeth closed around him, but it was barely registered compared to everything else that Gordon was bombarded with. 

It was hot, almost uncomfortably so, and completely dark, and there was saliva soaking into his clothes. It seemed like the muscle beneath him was restless, shifting around him as he gathered his bearings. Finally, he managed to get himself settled on his knees, hearing a squelching noise as his hands settled into the flesh beneath him. It pulled a grimace from him. 

He could hear them breathing, but the loudest sound by far was the rumbling noise he could pinpoint below him. 

Was that.. purring? That shouldn't surprise him, honestly. Just another thing to add to the list of things he's finding out about his roommate. Still, it hadn't really clicked until now just how much the alien was enjoying this. Just how badly did they want to do this? 

 As he collected himself, it seemed that Benrey was getting impatient. He couldn't tell at this point if their instincts were rushing them or if they were purposely fucking with him as he was flipped onto his back with no warning. "Hey!" It hadn't been a yell that needed a retort, but it got a snort out of the alien regardless. 

That bitch. 

He was pushed and flipped around some more, getting more soaked in saliva as they progressed. He would complain more, his clothes hanging heavy on his frame and his hair plastered to his face and neck, but he knew that for what was coming up it was necessary. Unless they could also handle that via shape-shifting, in which he would be pissed if he found out. Finally, he was gently pressed against their pallet, and a hum echoed around him, rumbling his surroundings and echoing through his body.

He took that as a warning for what was next, and couldn't help the sudden racing of his heart. He couldn't exactly say this was anything like he was expecting, though. If it weren't such a weird concept as a human, he could even see how their species could find this comforting. It was warm, and he couldn’t really deny how nice it would feel being so close to someone he cared about. 

…Yea, he accepted at this point that he didn't hate Benrey anymore, or ever really wanted to to begin with. They were good company when they weren't trying to escape and survive. 

"I think I'm good, go ahead." He called out, receiving another hum in response, and closed his eyes. 

His body started slipping backwards as gravity shifted around him, and he took a deep breath to calm himself right before Benrey swallowed. 

His feet were suddenly ensnared, and before he could even register that, another swallow echoed around him and the rest of his body followed suit. He wasn't sure if he could hurt them, so he tried not to move. Still, he couldn't help his figiting as his breath started to run out. Out of anything his thoughts tried to provide for this part, it wasn't nearly as bad. It was kind of a tight fit, and being forced down was a bizarre feeling alone, but it wasn't like he was being crushed. It seemed more like a gentle kneading. He wondered if Benrey was purposely being gentle or if that, too, was a species thing. 

All in all, if he could actually breathe, it probably wouldn't be as bad. 

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he jolted to a stop. For a split second, he felt nothing but panic, thinking he had gotten stuck, when the muscles beneath where his feet had stopped opened and he was suddenly forced down, landing a little harsher than he wanted to. 

The first thing he noticed was that the air was somehow fresh as he quickly refilled his lungs. It had a sharp, fruity smell to it, not unlike their sweet voice. The second thing, also likely related to the sweet voice, was that Benrey had lied about not needing to see where he was going. 

The chamber he had landed in was not dark like he expected, but lit up with a faint teal glow. 

Actually, if he focused, he could see other colors too, like happy yellow and even a little pink. It probably would have looked prettier if it wasn't so damn blurred. 

"Wow…" he couldn't stop the word from escaping, as he continued to look around in awe. This… was definitely not what he was expecting from this.

The chamber itself was still slick, likely had to be, but it was also soft. His hand sunk into the floor beneath him and he was reminded of memory foam as he lifted it and watched the flesh slowly rise back into place. The glow was not so intense it hurt to look at, and it was comfortably warm. 

"So…" he jumped when Benrey's voice rumbled from around him. "How are you liking the extreme cuddles?" 

"Can you hear me from in here?" Gordon yelled back. "Yea. Hear you loud and clear, little too close to not be able to." 

"Yea, okay." "So.. is this okay?" A new color joined the mirage, a lavenderish-white once again. "Dude, this is fine. It's still weird, but… not that bad." 

He could hear the grin in their voice. "Yea? Cool."  And then they were purring again, and Gordon smiled. "Glad you're feeling better." 

The glow seemed to get brighter where he applied pressure, he noticed. He ran his hand against the wall, watching as the trail his hand left got brighter, and feeling as the purring got louder, rumbling the entire chamber. For a moment, he debated finding out how loud he could get them to purr, but decided that would be better for another time. For now, he still wanted to learn about this. 

"Hey, I have some questions." 

The purring got quieter, but didn't stop fully, distorting their voice slightly. "Shoot." "Is this where your sweet voice is made?" 

"Nope. Got another pouch for that. Just connected the two." "Okay. How is the air breathable in here?" 

"Friend pouch's connected to airways. Filters the air like lungs do." "Wouldn't it have just been easier to connect it to your lungs instead of having two organs filtering air?" 

"Came that way." "So there's some things you can't change by shapeshifting?" 

"Nah, I could but it's too much work. Have to figure out how to safely do it and stuff. S' why my human form matches yours. Easier than trying to figure out where I can make things function." 

He nodded, taking in the information. "Okay, I think that's all I got. What now?" 

"Uh, you could take a nap. I'd be normal when you wake up, let you out before I shrink." "I don't know if I can sleep in here, man." "Wanna try?" 

It was pretty comfortable, he wouldn't lie. But there was one more thing he wanted to make certain of, a final fear he wanted to put to rest. "What if I want out?" "Like, now?" 

"Yea." There was a huff of disappointment from above, but it was quickly followed with "'Kay, hold on." 

So Gordon waited to see how he would be taken out. He figured that Benrey would just spit him back up, and tried to mentally prepare himself for the squeezing again. 

He wasn't prepared to see a giant hand clip through the wall, an undignified squeak escaping him as it came towards him. 

Like before, it gently took him into a loose fist before pulling out of the wall, without a single indication that the hand had even slipped through the walls of flesh and muscle. Before he could pull his thoughts together about that, he was set on the ground and not a moment after Benrey was back to his normal 5'3. 

It was… jarring to see the alien that had just held him and eaten him alive be shorter than him again. 

"So…" he started awkwardly, unsure what to even say about the situation, before the air quickly reminded him of how soaked he was. "I need a shower. And I think we're going to order food tonight. I don't feel like cooking." They nodded. "Yea. Okay." As the two started back towards the house, Gordon stopped at the door. "Can you grab me some towels? Don't want to walk in the house sopping wet." 

"Yea.. and, um…" they trailed off, looking away with a small hum of pink sweet voice escaping their mouth. "Thanks for doing that. Helped a lot." "Yea, no problem, man. Thanks for letting me out and not just ignoring me." He finished with a snort at the offended look he received. "Told you I would listen." When they only received a laugh in return, they huffed and turned to go get the towels he asked for. 

As he waited, he mulled over all the stuff he learned about his roommate today. It was certainly not how he thought today was going to go, but he found that ...he didn't mind too bad. 

He wouldn't mind if he found Benrey in need of some "extreme cuddles" again.

Trinkets, 41: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A rustic lute carved of driftwood engraved with images of ships and clouds.

An oval-shaped stone the size of a human eye, made from the darkest obsidian. The color is the purest black, and the glossy surface shines like a mirror. The reflections are strangely distorted, as it seems to reflect shadows rather than light. It is rumored in some occult circles that in the same way that a person can fall sick from a dark plague, so too can a ray of light become infected by shadow.

A parrot-sized urn of ashes with the name “Petey”.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Rations Foie Gras” along its length. The keg contains a solution of goose liver that has been fermented in lye creating a nutritious slurry that doesn’t spoil. The drinkable solution is thick enough to eat as a stew (Although it doesn’t technically require chewing) and its flavor is best left undescribed. The keg contains enough of the mixture to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large padded envelope containing a single silvered crossbow bolt and a note that reads; "You know what must be done. Make the right choice."

An odd receipt of a business transaction where a dragonborn adventurer wearing a full suit of ebony armor sold the shopkeeper salvaged bones collected from a half dozen slain dragons and bought 638 wheels of cheese in return.

A ceramic chamber pot shaped like an otyugh with brass accents.

A coin sized token made of etched, blackened brass which begets a connection to the spirit realm. When held, one can hear the whispers of the dead begging for retribution. Is it not righteous to answer their call?

A map of the stars that shows the mystical lines connecting the constellations.

An iron coin with an evil sigil on one side and the face of a demon on the other, flipping it causes the holder to hear a deep malevolent laugh.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A rustic lute carved of driftwood engraved with images of ships and clouds.

An oval-shaped stone the size of a human eye, made from the darkest obsidian. The color is the purest black, and the glossy surface shines like a mirror. The reflections are strangely distorted, as it seems to reflect shadows rather than light. It is rumored in some occult circles that in the same way that a person can fall sick from a dark plague, so too can a ray of light become infected by shadow.

A parrot-sized urn of ashes with the name “Petey”.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Rations Foie Gras” along its length. The keg contains a solution of goose liver that has been fermented in lye creating a nutritious slurry that doesn’t spoil. The drinkable solution is thick enough to eat as a stew (Although it doesn’t technically require chewing) and its flavor is best left undescribed. The keg contains enough of the mixture to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large padded envelope containing a single silvered crossbow bolt and a note that reads; "You know what must be done. Make the right choice."

An odd receipt of a business transaction where a dragonborn adventurer wearing a full suit of ebony armor sold the shopkeeper salvaged bones collected from a half dozen slain dragons and bought 638 wheels of cheese in return.

A ceramic chamber pot shaped like an otyugh with brass accents.

A coin sized token made of etched, blackened brass which begets a connection to the spirit realm. When held, one can hear the whispers of the dead begging for retribution. Is it not righteous to answer their call?

A map of the stars that shows the mystical lines connecting the constellations.

An iron coin with an evil sigil on one side and the face of a demon on the other, flipping it causes the holder to hear a deep malevolent laugh.

A small looking glass which plays tricks on the eyes. Glancing through it provides normal magnification, but one might see a spire of gold in the shape of a sunlit mountain, or a musical box and floating notes in a cloud, or a laughing rabbit in the shapes of the stars.

A mask crafted from thin cast iron covers the entirety of the head. The face itself is made of brass and shaped into the face of a hideous snarling creature.

A rabbit felt wide brimmed, high crown fedora with a band around it. It looks dusty with age.

A one gallon cask filled with inky black whisky. Thicker than most scotch whiskeys, it has a black tone that glows golden when the light hits it. The whisky has a penetrating woody taste, and does not light a fire in the belly; it goes down smooth and cold.

A small black metal box that fits under the arm. It has 20 colored pieces of glass arranged in a spiral pattern on one side. With the switch of a lever and the twist of a few knobs on the back , the glass pulse with glowing light at different rates, immediately drawing the eye to their pattern. An noncombatant viewer can lulled into a slight state of relaxation and well-being, being momentarily distracted by the pattern. A bearer can use this as a relaxation tool or as a hypnosis aid.

A piece of crimson coral carved into the shape of a shark.

A pair of earrings, made of wrought silver and ivory. The design appears to be two sinuous female forms, touching at the hands, which are extended above their heads (This is where the clasp is) and the feet.

A conch pearl the size of the thumb's first joint, of a deep and brilliant blood-scarlet hue.

A silk robe, dyed blood red with extremely long sleeves that hang past the hands, down to the knees. The outside is plain, but the inside reveals a subtle motif woven with orange threads: a nightingale swallowing a fox.  Small, jingly bells hang from the hem.

A brass chalice with chilling imagery of demons and tormented humans.

A fleshy ball the size of a large man’s fist. Dozens of tiny mouths appear, disappear and reappear at strange intervals, each one constantly groaning and muttering unintelligible words.

A large, brightly colored, decorative tin containing a well preserved fruitcake. The sweet bread is studded with dried fruits, nuts and strongly flavored with brandy which adds both to taste and shelf life. The loaf is so dense and nutritious that a single slice can be substituted as a full meal. The sealed tin can be used as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A large conch shell that, when put to the ear, makes the wielder hear the sounds of the ocean. If the bearer closes his eyes while doing so, he will see visions of infinite horizons and calming ocean waves.

A raw, unprocessed chunk of tourmaline that catches the and reflects different colors as it moves. It protrudes out of a base of stone and is flecked with dust and dirt.

A whistle made from deer antler with a silver mouthpiece. Its single mid-range tone is strong and audible at a long distance.

A bizarre, intricately painted miniature sculpture, made of a lightweight material; neither wood nor stone. The figurine bears an uncanny resemblance to a member of the party.

A translucent pearl with a coral blue shimmer.

A set of glass playing cards in a brass case. Each card has a set of symbols and numerals unknown to scholars and the learned.

A flask with an unknown liquid. It cannot be poured out unless it is standing upright (In which case nothing happens since gravity). The flask is very sturdy and in inscription reads; “Those that drink smart and slow will drink this drink made long ago.’’

An envelope stuffed with cheap woodcut prints of men in various states of undress.

A tattered, oft-folded letter on which are written a mother’s pleas for her daughter to stop her dangerous adventuring and come home while they both still live.

A turquoise courtier’s uniform adorned with the stylized symbol of a dagger poised above a cup just above the bearer’s heart. Crow’s feathers dangle from the epaulettes.

A dented tin bucket filed with human teeth. Hundreds of them. Teeth of all shapes and sizes, from white, through all the shades of yellow, to brown. Teeth with bloody roots and with shreds of flesh attached.

A delicate silver bracelet, fashioned into the appearance of a spider, it's legs hugging the arm.

A silver charm bracelet with small kitsunes holding up different types of gemstones as if presenting a gift.

A sequined squid skin belt pouch.

An ivory scroll case with silk bands and silver plated caps.

A gold coin of strange design, one one side of the coin are two crossed-swords and on the other a bulbous eye that appears to blink occasionally.

A marble bust of a vainglorious adventurer.

An oddly detailed drawing of a pack of wolves chasing a small cloaked child. The numbers six, one, and two are arranged in a equilateral triangle pattern with the six being on the point above the wolves. Strange symbols are on the corners of the page.

A petrified pixie that would make a cute paperweight.

A lizardfolk statuette made from petrified wood and snakebone in the shape of a scaly hand emerging from water holding an axe.

An ancient scrimshaw with a well carved boat labelled, “The Mourning Hag.”

A finely tanned, soft leather pouch filled with thirty-six small, polished hematite tiles about 2 cm across, inscribed with non-magical glyphs on both sides. Some of the tiles have different glyphs on opposing sides. The pouch has a leather drawstring.

A small sapphire hairpin carved into the shape of an ocean wave.

A large oil painting of some otherworldly sea where creatures who are octopoid from the neck down but with human heads float in bliss.

A bar of lavender colored soap that when used, makes things dirtier instead of cleaner.

A mundane looking flat rock has been washed smooth by eons of swift rapids flowing over it. It still drips as if recently removed from the river that created it.

A copper pot with dragon head handle.

A large wooden box of dozens small painted lead figurines depicting knights, wizards, beasts, and dragons.

A simple silver ewer etched with a floral pattern.

A pouch of dried kelp filled with razor-sharp mollusk shells broken into pieces and tied together to act as an area denial weapon. The shells functions as caltrops in every respect.

A quartz statuette of a pegasus taking flight.

An old, straw-filled ragdoll with a patch above its heart. It is always comfortably warm to the touch.  

A glossy black hunting horn, chased with runes and knotwork of silver.

A well-loved teddy bear missing one of its button eyes. An observer who looks at feels a strong urge to comfort the bear, wanting to repair it. Yet for some reason they wish to repair it with an actual fresh humanoid eye.

A squat hematite idol with blue quartz eyes.

Pocket Watch of The Far Realm: A blued steel pocket watch with a silver chain that always tells the accurate time of the entire plane of the far realm. The far realm is a place beyond space and time. The pocket watches hands move fast and sporadically, sometimes even gaining a third and fourth hand. It is completely useless at telling the time on the material plane.

A dark soapstone sculpture of a large crouching cat.

A barely legible prayer written on leather, dotted with stains. It reads “May vengeance steady your hand with righteous anger. In this den of thieves, murderers, and monsters, there is but one answer, one god, and her name is written in blood.”

A large silk flag for a fallen kingdom.

A knotted gland consisting of a cancerous mass of gnarled tissues. The tissue thumps with an irregular cadence, as if two  hearts are intertwined in this tangled clump. The longer it's held, the more clear if becomes that a multitude is contained within one's own flesh.

A bronze brooch of an maple leaf.

A featureless steel cube with one open side. Light does not penetrate the open side and an overwhelming sense of power emanates from within.

A crystal that projects starry patterns when placed before a light.

A gold plated compass with cracked crystal in a small teak box carved with waves.

An obsidian tablet the width and height of a human hand upon which when viewed under the night sky tiny green and blue dots appear to move.

A large glass jug, stoppered tightly. Inside appears to be a diorama of a small forested island with a port town. If left undisturbed for a time, observers may notice that the water surrounding the island seems to move, and the trees wave. At night, tiny flickering lights can be seen in the town.

A perfectly fresh pineapple that has somehow resisted the ravages of time.

A sturdy cloth backpack made of high quality cotton, adorned with exotic feathers and pretty cross stitches.

A wand made from a rare elm with grains of sand sprinkled across its handle.

A bronze ashtray of a sleeping dragon.

A gold rimmed monocle with light rope of gold and clip. The glass of the monocle is smudged and cloudy but resists all attempts at cleaning.

A tear stained map of the local cemetery with an “X” marking a specific grave.

A hairpin with head shaped like a spider and set with red agate.

A crystalline hand-sized scorpion figurine that is so full of cracks and occlusions that it looks as if it could fall apart at any minute.

A portrait of an unsmiling woman painted on a poplar panel.

A human skull goblet with silver base.

A one gallon cask of Eye of Medusa, a paralyzing mix of grain alcohol, lime juice, simple syrup, and poppy flowers. This drink numbs the tongue before leaving you feeling like solid stone.

A slate tablet on which is carved a prophecy by a famed oracle.

A small knife forged from a unique metal alloy created by a fallen star.

The mostly straight bones of a humanoid bound with rough twine to make a macabre sort of ladder, rolled into a bundle.

A boar tusk scroll case encircled with silver bands.

A gilded puzzle box decorated with a asymmetrical geometric pattern.

A flat, round gray stone ring the size of a coin worn smooth by water and time with an attached tag reading "Shieldmeet 1120 DR, is this the key?"

A clay tablet with the answers to the favorite riddles of a certain guardian sphinx.

A tall brass rod is etched with an abstract circular design that seems to be devoid of any pattern.

A small glass sphere the size of a fist is astoundingly heavy, and appears to be mostly full of a thick golden liquid. It weighs ten pounds and has no visible opening or markings on it.

An odd contraption comprised of a small crystal orb set within a thick metal semi-sphere, covering most of the orb, and is about six inches across.

A pouch made of rough toad skin.

A small bottle of eyes-burning-from-the-smell-alone wretchedly spicy but delicious hot sauce (Which will cause vomiting and incapacitate the non-spice tolerant).

A well made bracelet of silver chain with small silver heart charms hanging off each link. A single one of these charms is carved from a rose zircon, which gives off a small amount of heat.

A wand made of a line of conjoined tiny rodent skulls with emerald eyes that makes it a grisly site to behold.

A wooden flute made of red wood with etchings of leaves around part of its base

An oddly shaped curved wand with elven writing carved within. When held at nighttime it helps its owner sleep peacefully to the sounds of nature.

A bone case containing black votive candles that burn with a green flame and can only be quenched by blood, not water.

An ode to Genial Jack, the Godwhale, who swims the Sixty Seas with the city of Jackburg on His back and in His belly. Scribbled on the back is a mysterious phrase: “The tongues of the dead wag at midnight.”

A pink stone sculpture of an ear which grows warm when it hears false flattery.

A beautifully carved wooden prosthetic arm fitted for a small humanoid, etched with tiny runes in ancient High Goblin, a language now all but forgotten along with the proud culture that produced it, who some say were forerunners of goblins and gnomes alike.

A small pouch containing a handful of moss crusted with what looks like dried blood. The blood was in fact taken from a patricide, the moss from a hangman’s tree; the combination makes this quite a valuable reagent to the right buyers.

Sylvix Vore Fic (FE3H)

A/N: This is probably mega OOC, but I fell in love with both Sylvain and Felix during my first playthrough of FE3H and been itching for a vore fic featuring them. It’s probably more accurate to read this as platonic due to my inability to write anything remotely romantic... This was also inspired by @sinfromlokislair‘s Sylvix fic, theirs is a lot better tbh haha.. Vomit warning, so if that makes you squeemish, please leave now! Enjoy :) 

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Felix growled as he shoves off the giant finger, wishing this oaf wasn’t the first person who offered help. While Sylvain would disagree, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he was in this position. The blast of magic was directed towards their professor and Felix, standing behind her, found himself foolishly taking the hit. He expected a lot of things to happen, well aware of the effects of taking a direct hit to dark magic, but being reduced to the size of a field mouse was not one of them. Now, he has to pay the price of the curse. 

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, he expected something like this happening to Sylvain, the reckless skirt-chaser, but himself? He was usually more collect in battle. He sighs, regret still weighing heavily over him, but he had more pressing matters to tend to, specifically regarding the man before him. He looks up: Sylvain Jose Gautier loomed over Felix in all his self-proclaimed glory, Felix swallows. Goddess, he was gargantuan, his chest taking up most of Felix’s line of view and he has to crank his neck far back just to peer up in his friend’s eyes and feel like an equal in conversation. Bubbles of fear and humiliation rose up inside the smaller, but he represses those feelings, swiftly replacing them with indignation. “For the last time, Sylvain, quit poking me.” “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that you’re so tiny and cute! I really can’t help myself.” Sylvain laughs a little, folding both hands behind his head. “Insatiable, as always,” Felix mutters under his breath. If Sylvain heard, he gave no indication, instead, grabbing Felix without a single warning. As the tree-sized fingers close around his waist, Felix soon finds himself face-to-face with his ginormous friend; bemused, Sylvain simply watches as the smaller struggles in his grip. “Let me go, Sylvain!” he squawks, trying to pry those fingers off him. Really, the man had no concept of personal space. “Mm, I could, but,” Sylvain leans forward with his elbow still on the table, drawing closer to Felix. Fruitlessly trying to maneuver his legs and kick at Sylvain’s too-close face, he stops; scowling as he notices his own reflection in those amber eyes, and at last, Sylvain pulls back. “This is all too much fun!” he winks. “Hilarious, now let me down, you oaf.” Felix says flatly, “I would rather dual the boar than being stuck here with you.” “Really? Because most ladies would love to be in your shoes, Fe.” Felix squirmed a little in the redhead’s grip, not fancying himself so high. “Let them. At least you would finally leave me alone.” Sylvain leans on his arm, a cocky grin adorning his lips, “Ouch, don’t be like that! Least now, you can’t refuse to get dinner with me.” The raven-head rolls his eyes at the reminder of Sylvain’s countless dinner invitations, most of which he had turned down in favor of training. “Forcing me to eat with you, would you stoop so low?” Sylvain says nothing, only flashing a sly smirk and hoists Felix a few inches higher, just above his nose. Felix unwittingly tenses up, he's much too high and Sylvain was taking this joke further than he'd like. He curses while digging his nails into his friend's skin, trying to force himself to be lowered. Yet, the other refuses to budge. He can't tell if Sylvain thought of this as one big joke or if he was really this careless. "You incorrigible---" "Aw, c'mon Fe, you’re just cute enough to eat!” Sylvain interrupts smugly, dangling Felix over his wide-open mouth; He wasn’t seriously going to drop him, but it was all too easy to get a rise out of him. Felix’s heart pounds furiously against his chest as he’s forced to peer into Sylvain’s awaiting maw. Sharp white teeth that could easily bite him in half taunt him while that wet tongue twitches and Felix doesn’t even want to think what is beyond that dark, pulsing throat. It was repulsive, everything. Despite himself, Felix couldn’t stop staring. Is this what prey feel when they’re about to be eaten? Strangely enamored? He frowns, choosing not to dwell on it, and instead, averting his eyes to the door, he was no damsel, but a piece of him wishes for Ingrid or even the boar to pay Sylvain an unexpected visit. Relief sweeps through him as those lips close, “Tell me, do you have a death wish, Sylvain?” he growls, but the older man’s lips quirk upwards, evidently amused. As Sylvain opens his mouth to make a quip—- “Sylvain!” Ingrid barges into the room, and in an instant, he loses his grip on Felix, barely able to make out the tiny man’s objections as he falls straight towards the gaping throat. Sylvain’s jaws snap shut, and the obtrusion at the back of his throat causes him to swallow, purely out of reflex. Fuck. All traces of coy playfulness disappear instantly as he feels the tiny body make its way down his throat. He sits there, in cold shock, as Felix drops into his stomach. The heavy, humid air hits him, and Felix lies absolutely still, paralyzed with disbelief. This can’t be real. That half-wit did not just swallow me. Felix’s heart pounds in his ears as he wipes the slime off his face. The chamber wasn’t as dark as he anticipated, in fact, he could see the wrinkled pinkish walls fairly well. His own stomach turns as thick chyme splashes on him, and before he’s able to gain some semblance of footing, he’s thrown at the opposing wall. More liquid soaks him, and Felix thrashes aimlessly, the only coherent thought going through his mind is ‘I need to get out of here.’ He rushes to the nearest wall, cursing at Sylvain for taking his swords beforehand, and punches at the wall. No reaction. Not a wince, not a protest to stop, nothing. The chamber groans and convulses, but there’s no direct response from Sylvain. Felix clenches his fist, and despite the heat, he feels an icy chill plunge into his veins; no, he must persist. He’s trained on hours end, he can make Sylvain notice him. As Felix is about to inflict another punch to the walls, he hears a familiar voice around him, pushing down the squicked feeling of hearing his childhood friend in such a ubiquitous manner, he pauses to listen. Sylvain stands up and freezes, a nervous chuckle arises from his throat, “I-Ingrid! To what do I owe the pleasure of—“ “You know how many messes of yours I had to clean up for the past week?” He blanches as Ingrid wastes no time in berating him for his less than reputable behavior, “You promised that you would cease your philandering ways, but I heard from Ashe, of all people, that you were—-“ she pauses, Sylvain was almost hunched over, sickly pale with his arms twisted around his stomach, “Are you okay? You look unwell.” At that, Sylvain straightens up, “Ah, yeah, yeah, just ate something bad earlier,” he winces as he earns a nasty kick from Felix, “nothing some rest can’t fix!” Ingrid’s concerned expression only deepens, she purses her lips, but Sylvain, armed with a charming smile, puts a hand on her shoulder, “Honestly, Ingrid, I’m fine. But it’s cute of you to get all worked up over me! Y’know, maybe a kiss on the cheek would help?” The blonde shoves his hand off, rolling her eyes, “I’m not…Take care of yourself, Sylvain,” she sighs, turning around and finally shutting the door behind her. Alone in his room, Sylvain gingerly presses a hand on his belly, earning sharp kick in retaliation. His mouth suddenly feels like it was filled with cotton, and finding himself at a rare loss of words, Sylvain racks his brain for the right thing to say, for something to say. “You alright in there?” he mentally slaps himself after the words come out of his mouth. How utterly stupid he must sound. “Am I alright in here?” Felix repeats incredulously, blood boiling with every ticking second, “Did you really just ask the man who’s stewing away in your filthy guts if he’s ‘alright in there?’ What the hell do you think?” Sylvain swallows and finally sits down on his bed, trying to control an incoming rush of vertigo. He runs a hand through his hair, slicking the ruddy strands back into place, and sighs. “You’re right, I-I’m sorry, Felix. You’re not… melting in there, are you?” His heart-rate begins to pick up, thumping wildly in his chest like a caged bird. “Oh Goddess, you need to let me know if anything is happening!” “As you should be,” Felix says while checking out his arm. His once white sleeves are stained from the juices, but he’s feeling no burning effects. Not to say the acids wouldn’t be activated when Sylvain eats something—-other than himself. “It looks like I’m fine, for now.” “Good, let’s get you out of there.” He’s met with an affirmative hum, and Sylvain plants himself on the floor, firmly pressing both hands on his stomach. Tiny fingers tap on the bottom of his belly and now wholly aware of it. The feeling is entirely alien, almost ticklish; he automatically heaves, offhandedly noting the room getting warmer as sweat gathers on his forehand. Bile creeps at the bottom of his throat, and Sylvain dry heaves once again, “C’mon…” he murmurs. His stomach groans louder, noisily protesting the shrunken being inside, and his fingers slam on the hardwood, curling instantly. As his guts twist and turn in itself, he grimaces, wishing for a drink to aid him in this uncomfortable process. Sylvain’s eyes widen as he gags, only able to retch out strands of saliva. There is a distinct lack of a certain sharp-tongued mercenary.   “No…Why didn’t it work?” he whispers, clutching at his middle. “Sylvain…” Felix’s voice is dangerously low, and Sylvain was sure that if he hadn’t removed the former’s weapons, his insides would have been lacerated mercilessly. Even though they’d been friends since childhood, even though they made a promise, there was no way Felix would let himself die such a humiliating death. Felix glares up at the tight sphincter from above, it’s much too high to force open, but maybe if Sylvain was lying down… He pauses, out of nowhere, acids begin to bubble and churn. The stomach gurgles louder, and suddenly, he’s thrown from wall-to-wall, hardly getting a chance to catch his breath. A god-awful groan resonates around him, and his head gets submerged under the liquid; everything flies by too quickly; this was it, this was how he was going to go down. He can’t breathe; one moment his lungs are filled with acids, and the next, he finds himself splayed on a squishy surface. Felix coughs and gasps for air, for a split second, he really thought he was done for. Arm slung over his head, he almost doesn’t notice the shadow looming over him or the fast pulse below, rivaling his own. He needs a good minute to recoup himself as he breathes slowly to even his heart-rate. Finally removing his arm, he looks above. Felix’s breath hitches as the thundering vibrations of Sylvain saying something reverberates through his body; nearly admonishing himself for such a pathetic reaction, he realizes the words aren’t registering. “—-about this, yeah?” Felix catches the tail-end of whatever the redhead was trying to say. “Alright.” and for the first time since this ordeal, there’s no bite behind his words, only thinly veiled exhaustion as he finds himself slumped against Sylvain’s index finger. He just wants to return to normal and forget this day ever happened.

If you're up to it, I was thinking maybe thor x steve in a a/b/o au where steve is thor's omega (which is a weird fit since he doesnt have the usual appearance of one) consort, they just got married and as the married royal couple, they have to conceive the future heir (aka breeding kink happens) and maybe steve as the not-your-usual-omega just produces a lot more slick than the regular omega

+ Request Anon: Steve with a full set of lingerie bc boobs, and Thor worshipping his body and treatening him like his queen

Title: Sweet Consort 

Author: SinQueen69

Fandom: The Avengers 

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Thor

Main Tags: Prompt Fill, Alpha Thor, Omega Steve Rogers, Asgardian Royalty, Steve Rogers in Lingerie 

Read On Ao3 |  Prompt Fills

Twitter | Curious Cat

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“You look mother watering my dear consort,” Thor rumbled his approval as he slid his hands up Steve’s sides, eyes already burning Alpha red and the heady scent of arousal filling the married royal couple’s chambers on Asgard.

“Thor,” Steve wiggled as he flushed at the open praise, Omega gold starting to bleed into his irises as he rested a bit more of his weight on the thick thigh he was straddling.

“Ah, husband.” Thor swatted Steve’s ass playfully as he corrected his mated Omega.

“Husband,” Steve repeated, a deep red blush settling on his cheeks as the sweet scent of fresh slick started to fill the room as the fabric of Thor’s pants began to dampen under Steve’s ass.

“Your chest especially looks good enough to eat,” Thor curved his large, battle calloused hands around his Omega’s muscular pec’s, teasing the pink nipples through the thin, straining the white and gold fabric of the bralette that matched the panties, garter belt and thigh-high stockings his Omega had been wearing under his marriage outfit. Steve keened, ducking his head in embarrassment before gasping and jerking his hips forward when Thor ducked his head down and sucked at his right nipple.

“Alpha,” Steve mewled as he curled his fingers in Thor’s long blond hair, tugging on the strands weakly as Thor tugged on his nipple with his teeth before lavishing the fabric of the bralette so it stuck to Steve’s hardened nipple when Thor switched over to his other nipple to repeat the process.

Steve was squirming from his place straddling his mate’s thigh, cheeks flushed and panties stained and tented as slick flowed freely from his hole as his body readied itself for the larger man.

“I could spend hours worshipping your pretty little nipples my sweet Omega, but now that we are married I think it’s time I properly bred you.” Thor rumbled as he groped Steve’s panty-clad ass a few times before he slipped his hand past the waistband and grinned widely when two of his calloused fingers slipped into his Omega with no resistance and a lewd wet noise that was barely muffled by the little keen Steve gave

“Until my seed takes and your plump and full with our child, you’re going to be staying in our chambers with your legs spread and hole dripping slick. Nothing but my sweet little broodmare,” Thor promised as he roughly scissored his fingers from where they were inside of the slightly smaller blond. Steve flushed at the dirty promise and his rim clenched around the Asgardian King’s fingers as he curled his arms tightly around Thor’s neck.

“Please husband, please Alpha,” Steve crooned, his body burning with desire to be exactly what Thor wanted, he wanted to have his legs spread wide and be knotted time after time by his mate until he was growing fat with their child.

“My sweet little broodmare, so greedy.” Thor laughed as he withdrew his now slick-soaked fingers and easily tore the ruined panties off of the Omega before he flipped them around so he was hovering over Steve on their bed.

“Alpha,” Steve groaned as Thor easily shoved his legs apart, his hips aching slightly at the obscene way his legs were spread apart, but his body just reacted by producing more slick until the sheets below his ass were puddled and soaked through with the blond Omega’s slick.

“I love how wet you get for me my consort,” Thor inhaled the strong scent of his mate and grinned sharply, showing off his Alpha canines as he working his tented pants off until his massive cock was free and standing erect from his crotch. Steve absently wet his lips as his smaller cock twitched against his stomach as Thor stroked his length a few times, smearing pre-cum and some of Steve’s slick over the heated flesh.

Thor didn’t give Steve a warning as he held the base of his cock while leaning forward. Steve cried out, hands flying above his head to grasp at the pillows when the Asgardian Alpha’s large cock was shoved into him. Steve had never been more grateful for his body producing excess slick than he had been when he first took his now mated Alpha’s cock. By this point, Steve’s body was made to take Thor’s cock and every time he fucked Steve now there was no resistance of muscles as Steve’s Omega body knew who it belonged to now.

Steve’s eyes rolled into his head, mouth dropping open to let out little gasps of air and moans of pleasure as Thor pounded into him without delay. Thor growled and huffed as he groped Steve’s bralette clad chest, pinching and twisting the small nubs until Steve was squirming away from the touches while giving whines of overstimulation. Thor just grinned that same sharp, smug grin as he had before and shifted his hands to Steve’s legs.

Steve shrieked when Thor tossed his legs over his broad shoulders and swiftly folded him in half, fucking into him harder than before. Steve bucked in the stronghold of his Alpha, feeling a nice haze enter his mind and he gave himself over to the sensations of being so full, Thor’s cock filled every inch of him and it was a grounding point for Steve.

“Ready for my first load my little broodmare? I’m going to knot you every chance I get until you are properly bred.” Thor promised, flicking his head to the side to brush his sweat-damp bangs out of his eyes as he looked down at his Omega hungrily.

“Knot me Alpha, knot me, husband!” Steve wailed when the next thrust of Thor’s cock hit against his abused prostate and a small spurt of cum covered his stomach as he gasped and shuddered through his orgasm. His orgasm was only prolonged by Thor’s knot expanding, stretching him beyond his usual limits and a rush of burning hot cum flooded into him as Thor began the process of breeding his mate.

Thor rolled them onto their side, their preferred position while knotted together and sank his teeth into the fresh mating mark on Steve’s neck. Steve keened and sank boneless against his Alpha, mind going completely blank and he purred as his Omega side welcomed his Alpha’s potent cum, milking the King’s knot constantly.

“Sweet little Omega consort” Thor rumbled in pleasure as he lapped at the fresh bite on Steve’s neck as he placed a hand on Steve’s flat stomach, which was only beginning to swell with the amount of cum Thor was pumping him full of.

“Strong Alpha husband.” Steve purred back, giving in to his Omega instincts completely and covered Thor’s hadn’t with his as the two enjoyed a moment of quiet as they both knew as soon as Thor’s knot deflated, Steve would have his legs spread again and take another knot.

rated: t

original work: Of Storm and Ash

prompt: “Communication Suddenly Cut Off” + Nerissa & Poseidon

requested by: @kohakhearts

so taylo req’d a while ago “communication suddenly cut off” with their OC’s, Nerissa and Poseidon, an absolutely DYNAMIC sibling duo both of whom I adore, and I was helpless to say no. both chars come from their upcoming novel, Of Storm and Ash, so if you like them, GO CHECK OUT TAYLO’S STUFF MAN it’s super good

also i got to toy with a sci-fi au i’ve been itching to do for a while so y’kno. win-win. enjoy!

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Illimitable [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

Space is a vast blanket of multi-colored nebulas and galaxies swathed in an endless black embrace. Pockets of suns and stars glitter, rich and tempting in Nerissa’s eyes as she peers up at the expanse, cheek resting against her folded fingers. It seems as if in their tiny little scavenger ship, they, too, are enfolded in it: swallowed up by the greatness of infinity.

Nerissa’s kind of in love with that.

“Hey, Issa?” 

With a soft exhale and a lazy, long stretch, Nerissa leans over and presses on the glowing comm button at her right. “How’s it goin’, squirt?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I said I’ll stop calling you that the day you finally hit that growth spurt.” Nerissa grins. “So what, did you need something?”

“Just wondering if Ryes is back yet?”

Nerissa sighs. The button clicks again under her finger. “Negatory, squirt. Sorry.” Then, just as fast, an idea pops into her head. She straightens, slipping her crossed feet down from the wide dashboard. “What, are you getting tired? Wanna switch?”

“Get lost, Issa. I didn’t say that.”

Nerissa drops her fist against the dashboard’s rounded steel edge. “Damn it.”

Poseidon’s laugh on the other end of the comm earns her an extra eye roll. He’s holding open the comm so she can hear him on purpose.

“Who’s the one who drew the short straw, again?”

“I don’t care. I want to see the geodites!”

“There’s not really much to see out here, Issa. You’d be disappointed. I don’t even think I’m going to be able to bring back a full crate. All the geodites I can find aren’t worth very much. They’ve all got common cores.”

“I don’t care.” Nerissa drops her head against the dashboard and groans. “It’d be better than being cooped up on this damn ship waiting for Ryes to get back from the nearest outpost.” 

“Haha. That’s your--uh.”

Nerissa waits for a second, and then two, and then leans forward again. Click. “My what?” 

Poseidon doesn’t answer.

Click. “You okay, squirt?” Nerissa presses.

“Y-yeah. I just thought I saw something.”

Nerissa’s eyes snap to the radars and the blip-less maps of the asteroid’s surface across the green screens on the left wall. There’s only one cool, blue dot that is Poseidon. “Saw what? There’s still no other signs of life here on our, uh…” She checks the note Ryes had scribbled in his excitement on finding an unclaimed asteroid. “X-11-07. So you’re good.” Safe, she means and knows Poseidon understands. “Gettin’ hungry? Wanna head back?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

When he doesn’t say anything more, Nerissa gentles her tone. “It’s okay, squirt. When you get here, you can eat some of those nutrition bars you like so much, break a few teeth, and then get back to checkin’ out the geodite deposit. I promise I won’t steal your thunder by switchin’ out with you.”

“I like that they’re crunchy.”

“Those nutrition bars are fuckin’ rocks.” Nerissa tries not to smile. 

“You just say that because your teeth are weak.” Poseidon rises to the bait like he always does. “Natural selection is coming for you, Issa.”

“Oh yeah? Consider me terrifi--”

Nerissa cuts herself off the instant Poseidon screams her name.

Her knee bangs against the underside of the dashboard on her way to her feet. The tall coffee mug she had been drinking lazily from bumps to the floor, spilling everywhere. Ryes’ note flutters slowly into the coffee, soaking from the center of itself and spreading outward.

“Poseidon?!” Nerissa’s fingers burn white, jammed as hard as they can be into the comm button. “Poseidon, answer me!”

“I--” Poseidon’s voice, panting and shaking, is still an immense relief to hear. “--Issa, I think the scanners are wrong. There’s definitely something--someone--out here!”

“What makes you say--” Nerissa doesn’t even let herself finish. She knows Ryes would have her head if she left the ship abandoned, but she can’t--she couldn’t--she can’t stand here if Poseidon’s in danger. Surely their mentor would understand that. “--no. Hold that thought. I’m on my way. How far away from the deposit are you?”

Nerissa runs to the side wall for her dangling suit.

“No! Just let me come back to the ship! I’m on my way!”

Of course. Of fucking course he’d say that. Nerissa runs a trembling hand through her hair, pulling it up and out from under the back before she taps the shoulder sensors and the suit squeezes tight to her form, vacuuming shut around her. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m just going to sit here while you’re out there with--” Nerissa’s eyes dart to the screens still blank and blipless safe for Posiedon’s figure, making a beeline for the ship. “--whatever the hell it is that our scanners aren’t picking up.”

“I think--” Poseidon’s breath fades in and out, heavy and cloudy over the line as he runs. Nerissa listens to it as she suits up. “--I think it’s a person. Human. Maybe otherwise; I don’t know. But…Issa…I get the feeling--”

Nerissa’s helmet clicks into place, locking onto the neck of her suit. There’s a sigh of decompressed air, and then a hub of information lights up around her vision. She hurries to the door. Her fist slams into the button to unlock the decontamination chamber as she switches her comm link to hands-free. “Get the feeling of what, squirt?” she urges the silence to speak, to answer her. “What’s going on? Poseidon!”

There’s a crackle on the other end. Static. Then, oddly distorted speech: “I think there’s more than one!”

When the ship door finally opens, the landing steps don’t even finish extending to the lifeless grey dirt before Nerissa jumps out over them.

Gravity is strange on X-11-07. 

Nerissa swears at the slowness of it: the exact contrast to the fierce rabbit’s foot patter of her heart against her ribcage. When her boots hit the ground, she launches herself back up immediately with more force than she intended and flies. The ground passes quickly under her, dips and odd, holey stalactites poking up out of the earth, only to zip by harmlessly out of reach. 

Damn. That’s actually kind of cool. 

“Poseidon!” she calls; the shout of her own voice reverberates back at her inside the confines of her helmet. “I’m coming!”

The ground rushes up to meet her. Nerissa throws her feet out first and lands at an awkward angle. The grey asteroid rock crunches easily into dust, spraying up quickly and falling slowly. It obscures her vision for a second too long, a second Nerissa doesn’t have time to sit and wait through to see clearly. She jumps again.

“Poseidon!”

“Issa! Issa, get back to the ship!”

“What?!”

“Get back here! Now--”

There’s a harsh, buzzing click.

Then, nothing.

Nerissa lands hard. Dust clouds up, everywhere. Rising immediately. Falling slowly, drifting lazily. The substance is outside of her airtight suit; there are no cracks in her helmet for the asteroid dirt to seep into. And yet all the same, Nerissa does not think she can breathe.

“Poseidon?” she calls and she tries to open the comm link again. And again. And again. But there is nothing there. No buzz and quiet static like she should hear.

The line is dead.

“Poseidon!”

The sound starts behind her, back the way she had come from. It’s odd, traveling through an atmosphere that morphs and dulls sound to an odd, distant roar, but she recognizes the tremble in the ground underneath her boots and the quiet thrum of their scavenger ship’s engines and she turns around as a pulse of wind scatters the cloud of dust into nothing.

Nerissa recognizes, in the distance, so far back from where she has launched herself, the body of their scavenger ship--theirs--as it rises into the sky, thrusters aimed at the ground. It pushes itself up, and up, and up.

That’s what Poseidon was trying to say.

They have the ship.

They have him.

Nerissa pushes herself up again, launches herself. Something frantic makes her scream, gives voice to whatever is building inside her chest and needs to be set free. Needs to get to Poseidon, needs to not be stranded on an unclaimed asteroid in the middle of nowhere. No one knows X-11-07 even fucking exists yet.

When Ryes gets back--

--will he come here? And find Nerissa? Or will he follow the signature of their scavenger ship and find it hijacked and Poseidon--

--is Poseidon okay?

“STOP!” Nerissa screams at the top of her lungs as the ship, now at a safe altitude to turn and begin peeling away from the asteroid, slowly angles its nose towards the sky. The beautiful, kaleidoscopic spread of the universe is winged out above her, abyssal and amazing, and it betrays her.

The thrusters turn and push the ship up. With a bright flare and blast, the ship launches off.

And the void of space accepts it in its embrace.

Nerissa’s boots slowly hit the dirt. The burst of asteroid dust underneath her is smaller, gentler; it rises no further than her knees, juxtaposed entirely to the deep crater that has been punched into her chest. 

- o - o - o -

The first few minutes in the following silence is filled with the same thoughts on repeat, over and over again, tumbling through Nerissa’s head in a tight and panicky mess: “What do I do now?” and “I’m all alone. Oh god; I’m all alone. I’m stranded on an asteroid no one even knows exists yet and I’m alone,” and “What if Ryes never comes back?” and “I shouldn’t have fucking left the ship! I’m such an idiot! If I hadn’t left the ship, I could have…”

An hour passes.

Nerissa curls, pressing her forehead into her knees and hoping that if she puts her hands on the back of her helmet, she can trap and bottle her panic and focus it into something helpful.

Like taking inventory, for starters.

All of the suits Ryes had equipped their ship with are built to power through six hours before needing a recharge. If she doesn’t manage to do anything else stupid for the next five, then Nerissa knows she should be able to continue having access to a stable air supply and technology.

But that’s all she has. What about after those five hours? She doesn’t have a ship, now. No Poseidon. No idea who the fuck even--

--no.

Nerissa’s head snaps up.

No. 

That’s…not entirely true.

Slowly, Nerissa pushes herself to her feet as her mind scrabbles to replay her and Poseidon’s conversation those precious few moments before he was taken. She assumes he was taken, anyway; that those pursuers chased him. He had been panting over the comm, undoubtedly pushing himself as fast as the gravity of this asteroid would allow. 

He had corrected himself, at one point. It wasn’t something chasing him; it was someone.

And if they were able to avoid our ship’s scanners, fooling us into thinking this asteroid was safe, and they know how to fly a scavenger ship, then that means they’re probably sentient. Familiar with technology to some level. But…they used our ship to get off this hunk of rock. And we didn’t see any buildings or structures on the surface of this asteroid before we landed. Ryes said it was unclaimed. Which means…  

“Please tell me they have some sort of bunker they left behind,” Nerissa murmurs. That would, at the very least, grant her access to some sort of means of survival. If it was human-friendly. But more importantly, it might give her an idea who--or what--had taken Poseidon and their ship.

And if I can find them… 

There’s fire in that thought. Power. It stirs Nerissa into motion, pushes her to move, shoving aside the idle helplessness and despair at her loneliness to find hope: for as big and expansive as it is, the infinite measure of space is not enough to keep her from her little brother.

Castlevania AU Part One

Starring Venavismi, Tasallir, and @lycheemilkart‘s Ana (though only Taz is in this bit for now, because it turns out I’m probably gonna tell the whole thing from his POV lol). 

Tasallir was born in a castle.

 Not an ordinary castle. A castle both ancient and beyond its time; built by the oldest living being in all of the world.

 Ravasan.

 His father.

 Corridors filled with knowledge lost and knowledge yet to be gained made up the maze of his formative years. The nursery was a sanctuary. Soft pastels, cradle and then a child’s bed, hand-stitched blankets and a window that always looked out towards a field full of sunflowers. The castle itself moved. A great churning engine would resound throughout the night, and Tasallir would feel the ground quaking, and hear the distant roars. The castle had not moved much in his earliest years; so the sounds sometimes frightened him later, when they began to hop around, visiting new places every week, it seemed.

 When Tasallir woke to the roaring engines, and the swaying of the decorations strewn from his ceiling; the soft kites he and paper balloons and stars, he would climb out of his covers, and hurry down to the door at the end of the hall. The floor outside the nursery was cold, and Tasallir was not permitted to roam. The nursery was safe; but the rest of the castle was a strange and even frightening place. Even in daytime. He was not permitted to roam.

 This one room he could go to, though. Because it belonged to his other parent. To Nenae.

 Tasallir’s father was the most ancient vampire to have ever lived. He was distant and strange, and in many ways, an unknown to him. He did not see him every day. His hands were cold and his countenance was hard to understand. He did not smile; he did not hug. He would only ask Tasallir questions, and it was often impossible to tell whether the answers were right or wrong. Sometimes he would bring gifts. They were always strange, but Tasallir kept them anyway, in a special chest in his room. Little devices and odd treasures, things that fascinated him at times, even if he could never seem to figure them out.

 Nenae, though, was an elf. Tasallir was an elf, too, although Nenae said his blood was vampire as well. He was half-and-half. A dhampyr.

 On nights when he was frightened, he would go to Nenae’s room. The light was almost always on. Nenae would be in their bed, reading, or at their vanity table. They were soft and warm, with long hair. Darker than Tasallir’s, but coloured red at the tips.

 “Afraid?” Nenae would ask.

 Tasallir would nod, and they would scoop him up and let him curl onto the other side of their bed. Sometimes they would hug him close. But Tasallir’s skin was sensitive, and hugging could be too much. When that happened, they would just sing to him instead. Humming out a steady, repeating rhythm, that made his heartbeats feel even, made his breaths start to move in time.

 When Tasallir was six, Nenae took him out of the castle.

 It was his first time leaving. He was stunned. The day did not go at all as usual. Nenae took him before breakfast; Tasallir did not get to sit down to eat. He did not understand, as they put him in a lot of clothes and wrapped him in one of their spare cloaks, and then carried him through corridors and passageways. Past whirring machines, and massive doorways; through chambers that echoed and other frightening things, that they told him to shut his eyes against. Whispering reassurances, until he felt openness all around him.

 The air tasted strange.

 Nenae ran.

 It jostled him a lot. They ran for a long time, skidding and slipping, holding Tasallir too tight and nearly even dropping him once. By the time they finally put him down, Nenae’s breaths were impossibly hard, and they were surrounded by strangeness. Plants, but growing everywhere. Ground that was soft, but not carpet. Things looked like they had come out of a painting. Or rather, as if Tasallir had been put inside of one.

 “Just a minute,” Nenae said. “We need to catch our breaths.”

 “What’s wrong?” Tasallir asked, because he couldn’t think of what else to ask. He knew something was wrong. Everything was different.

 “Shh, nothing, sweetheart,” Nenae told him. They kept one hand on his cloak, even though Tasallir had already been held too much. “We’re just… going away for a while.”

 Tasallir turned, and saw something in the distance.

 At the time, he didn’t recognize it as the castle. He couldn’t. The castle was something he only understood from the inside; seeing the spires jutting up against the mountainside was as incomprehensible to him as the idea that a single blue and green bead could represent the whole entire earth.

 He looked around in pure confusion, and growing discomfort. The more he noticed, the more unsettled he felt. There were no walls anywhere. The light was bright, and the ceiling was high. High and blue, with a big lamp in it. Tasallir felt wary of it, even though it didn’t hurt. He moved a little back, but Nenae tugged him near again.

 “Stay close,” they told him.

 “It’s too itchy,” he said. Which was what he said whenever he was overwhelmed with touch.

 “Shh,” Nenae said. “It might have to be itchy for a while. You need to stay close, we’re not safe yet…”

 “Can we go back now?”

 “We’re just catching our breaths, Tasallir. Look at me. Help me count my breaths.”

 This was something Tasallir knew how to do, and so he did. It helped him calm down too, in the end. After a while Nenae stood up. He had to hold their hand, but it was better than being carried for a while. Even if the ground was strange and everything seemed sticky or damp or dirty. He didn’t like it. Nenae said they were ‘outside’, and Tasallir immediately decided that ‘outside’ was strange and dangerous and had too much mud. Things kept getting on his clothes, no matter how he batted them. Before long his shoes were dirty, but Nenae told him not to take them off.

 They started carrying him again. They even told him to eat while they did, giving him a bun he liked, and telling him to eat even though they weren’t sitting down and didn’t have plates. It was the same for having drinks. Sometimes they stopped and rested. Nenae even snapped at him when he took his boots off; though the apologized as they helped him put them back on again.

 As the light started to change colours, Nenae started moving faster. They squeezed Tasallir too tight and headed towards another place-like-a-painting; with small buildings and lights, and ground that looked more proper.

 There were people, too.

 Tasallir was astonished. He had never met anyone who was not Nenae or Father before. Sometimes ‘visitors’ would come to the castle, but Tasallir was never allowed to see them. He only knew because sometimes Nenae told him about it; and told him that if he ever saw someone who wasn’t her or Father in the nursery, he was to scream and bang on the things and raise alarms and not stop until they came for him.

 Strangers were dangerous.

 “Nenae…”

 “It’s alright,” they said, rubbing lightly at his back. “I’m here. Just stick with me and don’t say anything.”

 Tasallir did as told. Even when they put him down, despite feeling ‘itchy’, he kept close. Holding their hand as they went to a strange place, with a strange ‘inside’. Nenae got them ‘a room’, which was like the nursery and like their bedroom, but also completely different. They had to cover the windows and keep the lights off, but Tasallir could finally take off his muddy things, and they had a little table to sit down at to eat their supper. It was all still very strange, and he felt exhausted; but it made more sense.

 Nenae tucked into the unfamiliar bed. They sat on the other side, and gave him space, as they stared at the covered window.

 Tasallir wondered if they wanted to see outside.

 “I can open it…” he said.

 Nenae shook their head, though, and patted the bed beside him.

 “Just sleep, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be alright.”

 Tasallir didn’t know if he could sleep in a strange bed. It smelled wrong, and felt wrong. But eventually, Nenae lay down next to him, and started to quietly sing. The sound made his eyes droop, and made something in him settle. Exhaustion won out, at last, and he drifted off to sleep.

 He woke up again while it was still dark.

 There was an odd noise in the room. After a few minutes, Tasallir placed the sound as crying. He blinked awake, and sat up. It took a while for him to see anything. One of the window covers was open, though, and there was moonlight in the room. After a few minutes, his eyes adjusted.

 There were two figured in the room.

 Nenae was on the floor. Their hair was spilling down over their face; they were crying.

 Father was in the room, too.

 He was standing over Nenae. Looking down, in his long coat, with his hands folding neatly in front of himself. He didn’t look at Tasallir as he sat up, but that wasn’t strange. What was more strange was for Nenae to be crying. Tasallir didn’t like that. He looked away, not sure what to do; until another minute passed, and he decided he should go help Nenae feel better. He climbed out of the bed, and when over.

 Reaching out a hand, he patted the back of their head.

 Father looked at him.

 “What’s wrong?” Tasallir asked.

 It seemed the thing to ask.

 Nenae’s shoulders shook harder, and they cried too much to answer. After a minute, Father bent down. He was very tall; tall enough to easily pick up Nenae, as he put his arms around them, and scooped them up from the floor.

 To Tasallir’s shock, Nenae flailed out a fist, and hit Father’s face.

 Father didn’t flinch, though. Nenae wasn’t strong enough to hurt him. Nenae wasn’t very strong at all, really, even though they carried Tasallir; there were a lot of things they couldn’t lift or open, that even Tasallir himself could. It was because they were an elf, with no vampire. So even though Tasallir was shocked that Nenae was hitting, he didn’t feel too alarmed, as they only smashed and wriggled and didn’t really hurt Father.

 “Nenae is it too sticky?” he asked.

 “Let us go!” they sobbed. “Just let us go!”

 Tasallir looked at Father, and felt his lip wobble. Why wasn’t he putting them down? They didn’t want to be held!

“Father, it’s too sticky. You have to let go,” he said.

 “Silence,” Father said.

Tasallir quailed.

 He was mad.

 It… wasn’t good, when Father was mad. It didn’t happen often. And Tasallir wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly certain that Bad Things would come of it. But when Father was mad, the castle always seemed more frightening. There was a gloom in the air, that made it harder to feel happy. It wasn’t a good thing.

 Father’s hands tightened their grip.

 Nenae gasped.

 He leaned in, and spoke quietly to them.

 “Taneleth,” he said. “You are upsetting the boy. Where were you even going to go? There is nowhere safe for you out here.”

 Nenae said it was dangerous, too. Tasallir didn’t know what to make of the way their expression twisted, though. They hit Father one more time, before their face finally crumpled, and they started to cry again. Father loosened his grip a little. He stared at Nenae, until they seemed to get too tired to keep crying.

 “Sleep,” he said, then.

 Nenae went limp.

 Tasallir tried to reach up to move some hair from their face. But it was too far away to reach. Father looked at him again, and he quailed.

 “Get dressed,” Father instructed. “And follow.”

 “My clothes are dirty…” Tasallir said.

 “Put them on anyway.”

 “But…”

“Do as you are told. Now.”

 Father’s tone brooked no argument. Tasallir hurried to obey, feeling wretched as he pulled on dirty boots and all the layers Nenae had helped him take off for the night. He felt tired, too, but the moonlight helped. Father carried Nenae out of the room. Everything was quiet, and Tasallir saw no strangers. A lot of mist poured off of Father as he carried Nenae along, and didn’t slow down, so that Tasallir had to jog to keep up with them. He dared not lose sight of them, no matted what.

 They made it all the way back to the castle like that.

 Father put Nenae in their room. Despite everything, Tasallir was relieved to be back in the nursery. He changed out of his dirty clothes, and washed, and put on his silver star pyjamas. The castle began to rumble. Tasallir snuck down the hall and into Nenae’s room, and found them sleeping on top of their bed.

 Their shoes were still on. He pulled them off, and pushed their hair from their face, before he climbed up onto the other side of the bed. With a long sigh, he drifted off to sleep.

 The next morning, Father came again. Changing the routine before breakfast once more.

 “Tasallir,” he called.

 Nenae gripped Tasallir by the shoulders, though, and kept him from moving.

 “Ravasan…”

 “Enough,” Father snapped.

 Nenae flinched as if struck. Their fingers curled in the fabric of Tasallir’s shirt. Father stares at them for a long moment, before his gaze finally fell on Tasallir. He motioned. With some reluctance, Tasallir gently pulled Nenae’s fingers from him, and went over to answer the summons.

 “Follow,” Father instructed.

 Nenae moved after them.

 “No, wait, Ravasan I swear I won’t-”

 With a fluid motion, Father pulled Tasallir out through the nursery doorway. The door shut behind him with a solid thunk. From the other side, he could hear the sounds of fists against it. He frowned, and pressed a hand to the wood. Hearing Nenae’s distress, but unable to open the door.

 Father began to walk down the corridor.

 “Follow,” he repeated.

 Tasallir reluctantly pulled himself away, and obeyed.

 Father made no footsteps, as he glided through the corridors. His long white hair reached almost to his ankles. His eyes were as red as Tasallir’s, but his skin was much more pale. There was a gaunt quality to his cheeks, as well, that neither Nenae nor Tasallir shared. It always made Tasallir think of skeletons.

 He felt increasingly unsure of things as he followed his father through more and more corridors. Past rooms that rumbled and hummed, through wide chambers, until finally they came to an unfamiliar set of doors. Father pushed them open.

 The room inside was much like Tasallir’s nursery, but different, too. There were no toys or hand-stitched blankets, no decorative paper items hanging from the ceiling. There was a large bed, and a wardrobe, and a mirror. The floor was done in geometric patterns that caught his eye. The window looked out over the mountainside he had walked through yesterday, rather than the field of sunflowers. Several large, sturdy bookcases, full of books, lined the walls.

 “This is your room now,” Father said. “You will not go back to the nursery. You are too old to be spending every day at your nenae’s side.”

 Tasallir froze in place, terrified.

 Not go back to the nursery?

 Father turned, and walked out of the room without further comment. The door banged shut behind him, and Tasallir was left standing in the middle of the room in shock. No nursery? No Nenae? He was an obedient child by inclination, but even he could not accept that. After waiting a few moments, he pulled the door open, and peeked out. When he did not see Father in the corridor, he made his way out of the room, and tried to retrace his steps back to the nursery again.

 ‘Tried’ being the operative term.

 Every time he thought he had found the right path, however, his feet would get turned around; and he would be faced with the ‘new room’ instead. No matter how he tried, he could not find the nursery again. It was the most frightening experience of his life. Tasallir searched and searched, until he finally gave up and sat in the corridor, and began to cry instead. He cried for ages, but Nenae didn’t come.

 When he went back into the new room, there was food on the little table inside. Tasallir ate alone. Eventually, he went through the bookshelves. Most of them had words too tiny and long for him to read, but some had pictures. He found the wardrobe had a lot of clothes in it. Without anything else to do, he decided to play dress-up for a while.

 Then he went looking for Nenae and the nursery again.

 This went on until nighttime. When the sky went dark, Father returned. Tasallir didn’t hear him come in, but he turned around, and saw him sitting in one of the bedroom’s chairs.

 He went still, and waited.

 “Tasallir,” his father said, after a while. “Come here.”

 Tasallir went over to stand in front of him.

 For a long, silent moment, he was inspected.

 “Did you know, Tasallir, that you are not the first child I have had?” Father asked him.

 Tasallir did not know this, and was somewhat dumbfounded. There were no other children in the castle. Were there?

 He shook his head.

 “They are all grown up,” Father told him. “Most of them are dead. The first time I became a father, my heart soared. The first time I fell in love was like flying. Like a dream. I met your Nenae when we were both young, and mortal. The first time they died… the first time my child died… I died, too. Inside, I have died a little more every time I have lost one of you. Every time your nenae is reborn, I dread the day that I lose them again.”

 Tasallir dids not understand, except that… the other children all died?

 He felt a shiver.

 Father reached out, to his astonishment, and brushed his cheek. His fingers felt cold as ice.

 “You think I do not love you,” Father whispered, quietly. His eyes looked strange. “I almost wish I could not. How many times can a heart break, before it refuses to rebuild? I am at the edge, my darling. I am at the edge and if I lose anything more, if this world takes anything more from me, I will burn it all if only to end this pain. If only to never see your faces again.”

 Tasallir did not know what to say. Father had never called him ‘darling’ before. Only Nenae did, sometimes. But then he said he did not want to see Tasallir’s face again? He shivered again in fear, and confusion.

 “I’m sorry,” he said.

 Father pulled his hand back, as if startled.

 He blinked, and then looked at Tasallir again. Something strange passed across his features, before he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he seemed to be behaving normally once more.

 He stood up.

 “Tomorrow a tutor will come to begin your lessons,” he declared. “Obey them. If you behave well, then at the end of the week, you can see your Nenae again.”

 “Can Nenae tuck me in?” Tasallir asked, boldly as he dared.

 Father glanced at him.

 Then he gestured towards the bed. The covers folded themselves down. Without another word, then, Father turned and strode back out of the room again. The heavy ‘thud’ of the door closing made Tasallir flinch. He waited, and then tried to open it once more. But the handle wouldn’t move.

 It was another strange, bad night, and he did not sleep well; but no matter what he did, it was not a situation he could seem to change.

The Ghost Hunters Trio - or - BBY, first reality

Okay, soooo, I’m re-editing a lot after i post, so here is another, better, improved version of the drafts of By Being Reckless ! an Angel!Keith fic -mainly Klance but other ships are expected. 

Basically, Keith is an angel. And his human is very hard to keep in shape. Even more when he’s a ghost hunter.

Keith was dead.

The main hall was crowded, he managed to keep in track of where he was headed by keeping eye contact with brown hair. Highschoolers were pushing in all directions. The morning sunshine entered shyly in the building, allowing the air to stay fresh a little more before the whole city turns into a burning hell under the late summer rays.

He passed by a group of girl. Happily chattering about the end of schoolyear, they carried books for morning classes. He looked at his empty hands. He rehearsed it. He tought about it, turned the phrase a little in his head, but the outcome was the same.

Keith was dead.

He followed a kid some more before turning, entering a classroom. Soft conversations faded as the teacher made his entrance right behind him. Keith found a free table at the back. When sat, he turned to the window. The subject of the day was “physics on lasers”. Couldn't care less.

Outside, the green of the trees poked through the city. People started their day, unaware of what he knew. The boy's gaze followed an old lady walking down the street. Did she knew ? As she turned at the street's corner, he came back to the classroom, folded his arms and closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes. Funny ones were observing him. Funny because they were really round. Also very close.

"I feel like there is a 99% probability you’re awake."

"Huh… Make it a hundred."

Keith lazily sat down, peered around the room. It seemed an hospital chamber, at first, because of the baby blue walls and the high window. It smelled menthol and antibiotics. No flowers, no wheelchair. No beeping, no drip infusion. Either it wasn’t exactly an hospital, and only god knew what it was then, either Keith was very alone.

He couldn’t choose what was worse.

"Where am I, exactly ?"

"In this reality or in the 14 others ?"

"Huh… In this one, I guess ?"

"You’re in a special service, for people like you."

"People like… What am I ? What are you ?"

Keith focused back on his interlocutor. Round eyes, eight arms, a beak, it looked like a ferret had a strange night with both a sparrow and a spider. Odd.

"I am a bytor, in charge of you for the first steps. You, are 100% a dead human." Bytor said. Nothing in his tone was merely about joking.

Keith scoffed. Okay, fine. A dream. You know, those weird dreams, were reality is off and everything is… kind of… wrong. Didn't liked them much but it'll pass.

"I usually don’t trust dreams. You’re funny…"

"Oh, I wish I was. 8 people on 9 I know say I’m not."

"You’re not kidding me, are you."

"Unfortunately."

"Oh-kay, time to wake up Keith ! I've seen enough."

"No, you can’t… "started the bytor.

Keith jumped out of the bed. The landing was blurry and the world tilted a bit to the right as his vision went white. Shaking anemia out of his system, he turned to the door.

"Do not walk through that…"

"I’m leaving this dream now, bye, has been nice to meet you." Keith retorted with doing his best not to sound like a douchebag.

Keith grabbed the doorknob and crashed the door open . Inhaling, he closed his eyes. And smashed it off on himself.

"Ho hey ! Are you here with me ? Knock kno-ock !" Voices were bubbling up.

Bursting eyes open, Keith reported his attention back to the classroom. Dark skin, annoyed gaze, a highschooler was hungry, and kind of in a hurry. He kept asking.

"So ? Where do we eat ? Pidge’s on the roof." Pursued the boy.

"Oh-okay let’s go."

The teen sat next to Keith grabbed his backpack and went after his friend. Keith stood and followed him. Tall, lanky, tan, he had the chram of those kids who talk themselves out of every situation. He was actually pretty, and aware, and Keith would have done anything to make him happy. Literally.

As the boys sat next to their friend on the roof, the three of them started discussing, unpacking snacks.

The view was stunning. The highschool was built on three levels, and allowed the students to enjoy the city from above. On the east, hills, a stream, and further a forest, opposed to the cityside. Bakeries, a mechanic or two, seven-eleven, a video-store. The place had an old-timey, retro feel, even more under the soft sunlight of the late morning. The tallest building was only four floors high.Tracing its skyline with his eyes, Keith started daydreaming once more.

"Ah, you’re awake again !" Mister Bytor's voice sounded way to happy for someone who witnessed a litteral commotion happening.

"My head… Hugh…"

Numb, dazed, the teen blinked. The furry creature was still there. He was still there.

"I don’t understand. I slammed a door on my face. I should be up by now." Keith furrowed his eyebrows under confusion and... pain. How hard did he hit it ?

"Yes. You are already", insisted the bytor.

"This is wrong. Everything here is so wrong. I do not know you", snapped Keith,"I never went to this hospital. I never came here ! WHY WOULD I EVEN BE HERE ?!" The sentence, highly screamed, made silence fell down.

Next to him, he creature started trembling. Keith, on the other hand, felt a panicked anger bloom inside.

"You do not understand. You are not in an hospital at all." Explanations seemed to be the only way of communication the bytor could thought of. Sadly, Keith had little patience for long, intricate expositions of the situations, even more when in thrilled state. And he was totally blown away right now.

"Then were the HELL AM I !" Shouting some more, Keith started hunching over his knees.

"Hell ? You must mix up with Heaven ? I told you…" The bytor was fidgeting, hesitant to continue.

Keith mouth shut itself. Now anger and panic were not just blooming, they litteraly fed off him. His shoulders dropped. "You’re a dead human” was on repeat mode in his head.

"This is nonsense…"

"According to previous case studies, started the bytor, your level of ocytocine should explode and…"

"THIS IS NOT ! "   Adrenaline filled his veins. Situation was not okay. In fact, nothing was okay ! He clenched his fist, tensed from fear, uncomprehension and something deeper. Maybe the creepy feeling that it was, in fact, not a dream. "W HAT I ASKED FOR !"

"Keith…" Agitating some of his little hands, the bytor was now desperately trying to calm Keith down. By his side, curled up, Keith was trembling, gripping his hair so hard some of it fell off, floating to the ground in silence.

Roadlights run through his mind, a vibrating roar filled his ears. His brains shut off under emotions. His nails dug in his palms.

"Keith, calm down, released in your system, there is a 46% probabili…"

"YOU SHUT UP ! "

"When facing the reveal of their death, people tend to…"

Oversensitive to the voice, Keith exploded. It was all too much. He was sore and his head hurt from the slammed door and the voice run down his nerves, and the silence and the motor and the road came to his mind and it was so blurry but he…

"STOP !" As in accelerated motion, Keith  punched the wall. Hard. His fist fused, his knuckles met the hard surface first, cracking loudly. Then his wrist twisted and something snapped. Blood and pain rushed. Keith's eyes blinked, twice, before he faint and fell down.

"Hey Pidge ? Are you even listening ? I was talking to you !"

"Sorry Lance. No… Look, NASA discovered something on Juno !", exclaimed a girlish voice. Excitment peeked as she read something on her phone.

"Oh, my, god ! Give me the phone Pidge. Astronomical emergency !" Without paying attention to his friend's previous lack of answers, Lance dropped the first subject to catch the new one. He seemed as much, if not more, enthusiastic than Pidge.

"Here ya go." Leaning against the rooftop wire fence, Pidge handed Lance her smartphone. He scrolled hastily on the article.

"It’s blue !"

"Like your eyes, blue, like your eyes…" Next to Lance, the boy who snapped him earlier to snack there started humming a song about seashells and blue ocean. He smiled soflty as a thought crossed his mind. Poking a tomato in his sandwich, he interrupted Lance scrolling to drive the conversation his way.

"Maybe we could go karaoke tonight ? What do you think guys."

"Sure !", shouted Lance," My highscore got weak last time. I dropped the last high note and i can't do that to Shakira."

"Matt has something tonight too so I won’t have any trouble coming with you, so why not !" All while saying this, Pidge had removed and put back her glasses on the bridge of her nose, her signature move. She did it so often, punctuating facts with it, that small bruises appeared now and then. Keith knew Lance had a special cream for her to moisturize her noise.

"Yeah, karaoke night…", mumbled Keith. His voice was low, partially crooked from slumber.

Not like anybody could hear him anyways. He was as transparent and silent as a ghost. The teens finished their lunches just as the bell rang, and they left the rooftop off for their next classes. The day went on, hours passing by. Finally, when he exited the hall behind Lance, Keith felt relieved. Nothing could be as boring as mandatory and totally useless highschool classes.

He wondered if everything was always going to be like this. Sweet late summer air on unbrushed hair, backpacks full of teenage mysteries, breeze making petals float around. Almost all the town had of humans between 13 and 19 was there, goofing at the entrance of the highschool.

The group stopped on the sidewalk, separating to head back home.

"Pick us up at 20 ?", asked Lance.

"I’ll be right there ! Do your homework."

"Yeah, sure thing, Hunk", chuckled Pidge.

Lance waved at his friend as he receded, keys clinging in hand. Pidge, by his side, glared at them, frowning.

"We’re not taking blue, are we ?"

"My baby’s ready to take off", snickered Lance," and I’m the best pilot you have around, Podge. You’ll never take this hell of a schoolbus bus with me."

"If I walk at least I’m sure to survive but sure, give me a ride." The small teen opened her door, grinning. Her brown friend poked out his tongue at her and  grabbed the steering wheel.

"Buckle up Pidge !", cheered Lance. He turned the keys, making the car's motor jump and roar.

"I’m tied to this car as I am to my life."

This was some of the fun parts. Late afternoon, the air warm from the hot day, sun shining through the tree leaves… The car started, a cute Ford Fiesta painted in a soft blue, and everyone suspected Lance to had pick up this one just for its name. Lance never denied and stuck with it.

When the doors locked, Keith inhaled and smelled the iode scented air of the inside. Blue was filled with sea and pool items, bean bags and random things such as bean bags or lightbulbs. Pidge sat on the front row and had printed her shoes to the board. It was an habit she had picked from so long Lance seemed to not even bother telling her to get her shoes off anymore, had noted Keith the first time he rode with them. As a copilot, she was always making anything Lance could not do, and this ranging from making calls to actively trying to solve maths homeworks of her older brother.

Windows open, Lance was singing slowly as he left the parking lot. Since there was a bunch of distracted teens aroud, his driving manners were slow and pretty good, at this moment. By the time the highschool was out of sight, Keith was sat on the top of the vehicule. Best seat of them all, if you asked him.

He spread his wings, enjoying the wind in his feathers. His hair stroked his forehead gently. As they drove down the streets of the town, he smiled brightly. Car rides were Keith’s favorite moment of the day, even with all the work and attention they demended. Speed, action, music and laughter. Eventually, death had its upsides.

"Do you feel better now ?"

Keith blinked. Head light, hands neat, he was perfectly fine and back to bed.

"What the… What did you do to me ?"

" I waited. You fainted due to a rush of endorphine let out by your hormonals glands when your wrist and three of your fingers split in two. Also you breached the wall on a five diameter circle."

"No, I mean… For my hand… I broke like… Three fingers ! How did it repair ?" Keith glanced at his fist, turning his palm back and forth, looking for any traces of concussion or medicine. As he suspected, he noticed nothing unusual. Not a single scratch. It was both creepy and fantastic.

"Oh. I did wait. Death has it advantages I guess. We still did not figured it out, but your recovery capacities, since you are more of a spirit and less of a material being, are improved and I suspect 36% of the…" Rambling again, the bytor was barely looking at Keith. He seemed to anxious to do so, fingers figdeting, palms sweaty.

"I’m sorry", harshly dropped Keith," I scared you." He did not liked apologising, but he recognized he had to.

"It had a 72% probability of happening."

"Still.

"Make it a 0% chance of happening again in this reality and we’ll be fine." Strangely enough, the bytor seemed at peace with him. He did not questionned further why and no dded in response.

"Now that this is done", gestured the creature,"we should leave to the next steps. You see… - no, the blanket needs to be placed here – now that you’re deceased, - more like…- we’ll have you working for us – put it upward – for 58 years, since you died – yes like that – at 17 and thus left your supposed life – yes, yes – to us." As it spoked, the bytor continuously stroked the blankets of Keith's bed, loosing the thread of the sentences as he made them up.

"Okay, what ?"

The bytor moved to the side of the room, next to closet doors. It peered at them, leaning closer.

"Since you were supposed to die at 75 – the doorknob is slightly fainted here – you owe us the rest of your life you never lived. You died at 17, do the math.

"I get the math part, but why should I work for you ?" Keith had not intention to live a slave, nor dying a slave either.

"You died, the bytor gestured vaguely, unaturally."

"And so ? I don’t even remember dying !"

"Do you want to ?"  The tone was deaf. Bytor stopped focusing on the doors, turning its head to meet Keith’s eyes. He averted them away and gulped. The words sunk in, cold and bitter. He left 58 years worth of life back and should work them out to be relieved. 58 years. He shook his head.

"What will I have to do then ?"

" You’ll make sure this doesn’t happen to someone else. Protect somebody, make him happy…"

"Are you telling me I’m gonna be some kind of guardian angel ?"

"Highly probable."

"Whomst angel !?"

"Undefined. You see, the process of attribution of a human is a very randomized process and condition of the choice are regulated in a very special way that -"

"Okay, cut short. I get it. Huh, thank you ?" Keith blinked, unsure of what to do.  From one of its hands, the bytor had handed hima white tunic. The fabric was soft and silky. Very nice. Very… angelic. Keith shook his head.

"I’m not wearing that." The boy moved backwards, away from the closet doors. The bytor followed every move.

"I fear you have no other options in this reality. However, in three others I think you…"

"No. Way. I’ll look half naked." It was true. No legging, no tee-shirt. He could barely imagine his torso and his laps get covered by the tunic, and even if they did were covered, the fabric was so light he could squint to see throught it.

"I fear you can’t go against the reglementation. It’s a rule here, and it can be VERY dangerous to disobey the rules !" Keith scrunched up his nose, in a disgusted and really evocative grin.

"I’ll wear this when I’m dead."

"Sorry then." The bytor sneaked next to Keith and raise his hands. As it firmly grabbed his ribcage, Keith let out a scream, "Wait, what the… HEY !" and rolled over.

Now, fighting against an eight-legged ferret was one of a kind of an experience Keith wished he never lived. As the creature climbed over him, it took away its clothing, leaving him half naked in the meantime it took to replace it with the tunic. Hands cuffed by two arms, on the ground under what seemed like fifty kilos, Keith had flashing nightmares of the strangest mangas he ever came across.

"OKAY STOP ! I’LL WEAR IT !"

"You already do, but thank you for acknowledging."

"Oh my…" Keith felt a little nauseous.

Red to the bone, he crossed his bare arms over his half-bare chest and looked down. Bare legs, bare feet. He did not even bothered finishing his phrase. Was this thing even created to cover him at all? Because it felt more of an excuse to uncover him. His decision was impending.

" I hate it."

"You can still choose for the -" As it began, the bytor's sentence died under Keith's glare.

"No." Glancing at the gladiator-style sandals hanging off the creature's arms, Keith decided he would never trust fashion ever again.

"Okay, no shoes then. At least i’m not entitled to making you wear them." The bytor seemed genuily relieved.

Keith suddenly understood why choosing a Bytor for this job. Whoever had no eight arms would have met a very dirty fight. But who choosed how bytors would dress once they're dead ? And so...

"Lance, couldn’t we change the music please ?" Pidge's voice barely covered the sound of the pop-song displayed on the autoradio. Keith noted she was already at the top of her lungs while Lance was barely only speaking up in response.

"You have something better than that ?"

"What if I do ?" The girl grinned playfully.  

Lance nodded at the radio player. While humming along Rick Asley, he turned left. Pidge pulled out her wires and shrieked.

"LANCE ! For fuck’s sake, couldn’t you watch the damn road ?" Knuckles white from gripping her seat, she waved out the window.

"What again ?"

"Huh, a friggin’ car coming right, that’s what !", pointed Pidge.

"Hey, did it hit us ? Because I sure have seen nothing !"

"Fine. Don’t come complaining when you’ll be dead."

Keith snorted. Lance would surely not die, not on his watch no-no. He had a mission and was on duty. Although Lance drive could be easier to manage, but sat on the roof of the car, the angel had seen the other come so long ago that changing its trajectory wasn’t even that hard.

Smash mouth blasted from the windows as they turned right, almost ejecting Keith in the process.

"You really are made out of meme material, laughed Lance, you know that ?" A large, smug smile spread across Lance's face. Keith observed the scene all the way up from the car's roof, thanks to the side-mirrors.

"Don’t you say that, smirked the girl, it could imply we are brother and sister !"

She punched lightly his shoulders and regretted it right after, when Blue jagged to the left.

They had left the waking area five minutes ago and Slav, the Bytor, led Keith on corridors on and on. All the way down the halls, his tutor voice kept blabbering. If it was important, Keith would never know. Hugging the walls, he noted the building looked like a modern version of an victorian mansion.

A crowded, modern, noisy victorian mansion. It had the size and the maze-feeling of it, but combined with futuristic elements such as pretty blue neons everywhere. Diverses creatures were running, jumping, flying all around them. In a matter of minutes, Keith spotted two angels, a yeti and something that oddly looked like a mothman. How was this real ? He had stopped counting toothfairies a while ago when Slav entered a room.

Away from the multi-creatural hall, this one was filled almost only by angels, a feathery sound emplying the air. None of them had the cliche wings, that being said. Some even had pretty much bat-looking wings. From all ages, the guardians looked mostly tired. A busy day in a busy office, how normal. Slav asked one of them to help him with Keith. Nodding firmly, the angel turned to the walls, covered in librairies. Slav sighed and they hunt through several lockers to find a file.

Keith used this time to examinate the room. In a corner, a chair was surrounded by mechanic gears and computers, screens and technology he could not quite identify. Most of the walls were covered in files stashed on bookcases. Sometimes, “missing” posters and notes would pop. Some really old-looking tapestry hanged from the highest part of the office. Milleniums of death and history.

Slav came back with a bundle of paper in one of his hands. After the incident of the uniform, Keith had completely forgot about the whole ‘protecting and granting a human’ part of his… forced job. On the front page, his name was followed by the mention : 'gardian’. He pouted.

"Did I had one ?" Keith had always been a bit blunt at questions, he knew it.

"A guardian ?"

"Yeah. Did I had a guardian back there ?" He pointed his thumb behind him. He doubted the bytor would get the motion, but a reflex was a reflex anyways.

"Keith, you died at seventeen."

"Oh." Case dropped, he was the most unlucky guys ever. Or maybe not, but still.

"You became what you had not, funny isn’t it ? " Funny, right. How pleasant. He suddenly felt like 8 of the 9 people hating Slav's humor. The bytor, totally oblivious to his thoughts - was he really ? - gestured to the chair in the corner.

"Please, take a seat here now, we’ll link you to your human with this."

"Like, I seat and I’m on earth ? Nothing more ?" Keith raised a brow. This could not be as easy.

"Not exactly. It’s a randomized process and you need a link with a earth, as well as a static position. You’ll connect with somebody that somehows needs you, in any universe."

"And what… What if nobody needs me ?"

" Everybody needs somebody. Actually, I think they are 1 billion people of this reality that would need your help, 39% of them mostly to overcome medical condition, 21%…"  Sighing,  Keith sat down on the chair. It was warm and connected to multiple wires linked all around. Smelled like burned plastic and feathers. Nothing reassuring.

"This may hurt a little…" Slav's voice sounded just as hesitant as before. Keith squinted at the creature.

"What do you mean by a little ?" He was not used to approximations. Not from Slav, at least, and this was oddly suspicious.

Slav pressed some buttons. An angel nearby landed to record the process, some more stopped rushing to take a look. The bytor pianoted on the computers. Looking concerned. Then panicked. The warmth of the chair was amplifiying. Keith's back started to itch. Okay, he knew it.

"Slav… I think something’s wrong", hushed Keith.

"I know, the realities process are messing up. It’s becoming dangerous. You might end up somewhere undesired. "

"I’m sorry ?!" Keith's eyes grasped some other's. None of them seemed particularly confident either.

"See this blue cable over there ? It’s the reason everything process backward. It seems the S.C.O. composition is turned down." Keith had no idea what could S.C.O. stand for, but he clearly supposed what could result out of a backward process. He looked down, following one of Slav's fingers, pointed down.

A snake of bundled up wire layed down between his feet. Somehow, it seemed wet, like if it had leaked. The chair was getting even hotter. Almost painfully.

"Ya, I see it. Can I get up ? It’s getting too much hot in there."  Keith begun to leave the chair but promptly collapsed back on it as Slav darted his eyes at him, screeching.

"DON’T! THE PROCESS HAS ALREADY STARTED ! IF YOU LEAVE YOU'LL END UP LOST IN BETWEEN WORLDS ! "

"Yeah, but your wires aren’t connected. You’ll retry again later, it doesn’t…"

"KEITH STAY ON THE CHAIR ! THE REALITIES ARE NOT CORRECTLY…!"

" …matter."

" TIED !"

Suddenly, the heat burned. Keith screamed but no sounds seemed to escape. The worlds went blank and everything melted along the chair, and Keith on it. His brain got crushed between his bones, his nerves caught fire and what he tought was pain felt like tenderness compared to what he was living.

When the agony took an end, he was lying dead on the floor of a bedroom.

“A dream. It was a fucking dream.”

The phrase echoed, as if somebody has just said the same out loud.

"I slip you not, Pidge, it wasn’t a dream. I swear, I heard somebody screaming here !"

"Lance. I’m standing just here, we’ve looked every-fuckin-where here. There’s no one."

"But I…"

"Huh, I am here ? scoffed Keith, offensed, I mean I know I'm short, but not that short. "

"Let’s get going. We’re already late and you drive even faster than usual when we are."

"Pidge. We’re always late."

"I know. That's why I both hate and love you."

Two of the three teenagers left the room. The human ones. Left alone, the angel dropped on his knees. After all the unheard screams, a whisper left his lips and sunk into the emptyness of the room.

"Fuck. It wasn’t…"

Feathers run down his spine. A shiny, decorated mirror above some white fancy table reflected him in-between snapshots and necklaces. Pale, almost sickly, draped in a soft fabric. Framed by two large falcon-like wings. Small but heavy on his shoulders as realization sunk in.

So here Keith was, since two days. Following a highschooler from home to classes and classes to home. He wore a tunic, no sandals, tripped in feathers countless times because of wings he didn’t remember possessing ever. He had no idea why nor what.

But Keith was dead. And now, he had someone to ward off it.

Trinkets, Worthless, 7: These trinket are garbage plain and simple. They would be termed vendor trash or junk loot in video games. They aren’t touched by stray magic or mystery as with regular trinkets, aren’t made from valuable materials and aren’t particularly useful even if they aren’t damaged.

A wheel of blue cheese that's been dyed red.

A black burlap satchel containing five burned and charred wooden coins.

A small pouch of cinnamon dust.

An inverted monkey skull dusted with traces of silver and gold shavings.

A bouquet of dried belladonna flowers that have an odd smell to them

An empty copper scroll tube with a broken wax seal.

A stuffed falcon, tattered with age, with black onyx eyes.

A battered goblin skull

A pewter thimble

A rusty handsaw

---Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

---Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A wheel of blue cheese that's been dyed red.

A black burlap satchel containing five burned and charred wooden coins.

A small pouch of cinnamon dust.

An inverted monkey skull dusted with traces of silver and gold shavings.

A bouquet of dried belladonna flowers that have an odd smell to them

An empty copper scroll tube with a broken wax seal.

A stuffed falcon, tattered with age, with black onyx eyes.

A battered goblin skull

A pewter thimble

A rusty handsaw

A bright red hooded cape sized for a child, spattered with dried blood.

An unused paintbrush made of horsehair and pinewood.

A low, three-legged stool topped by an uncomfortable brass seat

A finger lengthed decorative pewter fish with green colored glass eyes.

A burlap sack packed with straw and a dozen chicken eggs that have been hollowed out and filled with white flour.

A small brown glass jar sealed with wax and with a gray dust inside. A white label is affixed to the jar, and reads: “Zombie Dust” in a shaky script.

A hand-fan of clipped, black-dyed harpy feathers bound with copper wire. The dark feathers still smell as foul as the beasts they were taken from

A thick leather satchel containing 100 clay marbles, equally divided into four different Random Colours of 25 marbles each.

A wooden tube containing sheet music for a popular folk song adapting it to tablature which requires a three-handed (All of them left) mandolin player

A crude wand made from a goblin’s femur and set with a cracked jet stone lashed to the bone with sinew.

A brown and red flecked egg, the size of a loaf of bread, that gives off a rancid scent.

A set of six quill nibs used for scroll making.

A set of dentures made from old wood that smells horribly and has small hunks of what is hopefully food stuck between the teeth.

A shrunken goblin head

A pair of tarnished steel tweezers

A small vial of cheap cologne

A pair of steel tweezers made to fit the hands of a large creature.

A burlap bag containing a gold sifter and a pound of pyrite (Fool’s gold) nuggets.

A small sack with two dozen unused corks of various sizes and shapes.

An old wooden bucket full of mismatched spoons.

A sealed letter that refuses to open

A sealed, empty glass vial that can't be opened and will never break

A one-gallon cask of pickled eels.

A thrice-folded sheet of paper with incomplete punchlines to six knock-knock jokes.

A ratty burlap pouch containing nine small stones, each a slightly different shade of blue.

A small scrap of paper, upon which is written, “Do you like me? YES or NO?”

A key ring with three small keys looped on it labeled, “This one,” “That one,” and “The other one.”

A brand new, but tragically empty, wallet.

A weather worn wooden board, inscribed with patterns which make it clear that it was once used for a game whose rules have long since been lost to time.

A woodcutter's axe that refuses to cut anything but wood.

A child’s puppet which is normal in all respects, except for the third eye on its forehead.

A small granite pebble which registers faintly as magical, but which is otherwise wholly unremarkable.

A large wood chip which acts as a magnet, despite its non-metallic nature.

A large wire and glass spectacle, designed for a creature possessed of only a single eye in the middle of their head.

A pair of six-fingered gloves, along with a single matching seven-fingered glove. The set is made of supple black leather, and stitched with white thread.

A dismembered skeletal hand clutching an unopened letter. If the seal is broken and the message read, it warns its would-be recipient to guard against an eminent betrayal.

A monogrammed handkerchief with a set of initials you do not recognize

A morbid shopping list consisting of random body parts with hints as to what evil concoctions the parts are needed for.

A small unlabeled brown glass bottle with a reddish liquid inside.

A smooth oval shaped rock with the word “Family” chiseled into it in a fine script.

A faded 2’x4’ watercolor painting of a young couple in old world wedding attire, set in a pewter frame.

A white food-prep apron that fits over the neck at the front and ties around the waist at the back. It looks like it has seen heavy use but has been repeatedly cleaned with lye soap and only has minor stains.

A pair of thick knit, heat proof mittens used by cooks to handle hot objects. The cuffs go half way up wearer’s forearms and can handle extremely hot metals and ceramics without issue.

A pair of child sized pink wool mittens with a cat face design on the back of each. They are strung together at the wrists by wool cord.

A pair of dried and preserved human hands, sewn together and made to be worn as a pair of earmuffs.

A mummified troglodyte's hand

Half of an iron holy symbol of Bane, the evil deity of tyranny and war.

A small burlap pouch filled with various animal teeth

A painted lute missing its strings

A bloodstained map of the local area.

A coin purse containing a pair of jade earplugs

A small stoppered vial of clear glass that cannot be uncorked. The vial is empty

A bit of slime in a jar. When the jar is opened, the slime tries it's hardest to stay as deep in the jar as it can and wise PCs feels as though they shouldn't touch it.

A brass locket containing a picture of an unrecognizable child.

A barely fathomable map of an infinite labyrinth that is all but illegible and seems to loop back on itself in several instances.

An unfinished nude drawing of a man with an eye patch.

A deflated leather ball.

A pamphlet preaching the glories of “Nameless: The Double Faced Gnome”.

A crude sketch of a goblin entitled “Leonard”.

A half built wooden sled.

A pouch of various dried mushrooms. It's probably not wise to consume them without proper identification first.

A statuette of a goblin made from a coprolite.

A wand sized for a kobold made of glued together chicken bones

A wooden scroll tube containing a deed to a large bridge in a fairly populated area as well as the consent of the king to collect tolls from pedestrians. The deed is an obvious forgery only an absolute imbecile would believe that it's genuine.

A cabbage that cannot be eaten. It can be torn apart or destroyed but no part of it can be chewed or swallowed.

A gold-painted rock that resembles a gold nugget but would never pass as one.

A defective red boomerang that never returns to the person who throws it.

A deed to a large castle and the five acres of land around it. The deed is an obvious forgery and none of the PC's are sure if the place even exists in the first place

A cork that has a faint aroma of orange.

A single large mushroom that smells of butterscotch and rot.

A battered scabbard that smells strongly of old cheese.

A rusty speculum.

A broken lute covered in bloodstains.

A old dagger that has rusted into its sheath and cannot be removed.

A empty miser's coinpurse whose drawstrings can only be untied by a particularly dexterous PC.

A child's wooden sword, with the names of several children carved into the side. It is completely covered blood stains which vary in age.

A pewter spoon that (According to the initials on it) was owned by a rich but miserly landlord of a nearby city. If the gossip you’ve heard about him is true, it’s likely that after it went missing he started eating his soup with a fork rather than buy a new spoon.

A jar containing an alchemical salve that is labeled "Apply to soles once per week." However, the salve has solidified into a waxy mass.

A folded paper frog that when unfolded, can be read the uplifting message: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single hop.”

A bracelet braided from the ligaments of an unknown creature, with a single charm carved from a humanoid tooth.

A piece of torn linen cloth worn soft by someone else's fingers. Up close there are obvious marks where embroidery has been picked away.

A small glass jar with a gilt-painted image of a minor goddess of a Random Domain. The container is empty except for a waxy residue at the mouth of the jar.

A small glass file, intended for the care of nails, claws or talons.

A string of rough, red beads that smell faintly of cinnamon.

A carved bone portrait of a famous pirate. The enamel has worn thin over the years.

A small doll who someone thought it would be a good idea to carve its head from an apple. The face is brown, dry and wizened.

A wolf-hair paintbrush that's perfect for calligraphy, though the binding is coming loose.

A walnut-sized terracotta jar containing traces of red makeup.

A used brass chamber pot in which has been hidden three pieces of uncut rose quartz.

Talisman of Ultimate Entropic Destruction: An iron amulet displaying the twisted face of a snarling demon, that when activated will utterly destroy the entire universe... in 15 billion years. There is no way to speed up this process.

Kiki Mora

Kiki stood back up. Still breathing heavily and her arms were sore, but the cold was starting to sink back in. Serves you right for waiting this long, could of been inside but you decided to not have any firewood spare so here you are like a fool. She brushed snow off her shoulders, pushed her sleeves down her pink arms. Going to have to pull them back up in no time. Her axe started it have snow building on top of it,  nearly had to dig it back out. She didn't mind the cold stabbing her fingers. The ice had a thousand promises of taking them away from her. She didn't worry a single thing about that. What she did mind was the little pain in her spine. That kind of pain that you shrug off. You can keep going. Just be a little more careful that's all. It's just a little pinch. No harm in that. It'll go away once you put your mind off it. But it creeps, and creeps. building up until to hurts too much to simply stand. She felt that little pinch and that little fucker is just going to make itself home unless she stopped now. If you stop you'll both freeze. Kiki cracked her neck, crunched her finger, stretched up high to reach the sky on her tip toes. Sniffed the cold air, grabbed a log, stood it up right. Aimed then swung. Whoosh. Spilt. The two pieces of the jumped apart. Splinters flying up to fall with the snow. Next one. Aim. Swing. Split. Repeat. Breath in deeply through the nose. It warms the air before it gets to the lungs. Would be coughing them up if you breath improper. Any ice that builds up in her nose, she just digs it out and continues. Split. This once had been hard for her. Bubbling blisters bursting and burning. Got good thick skin now. This is nothing. Get the right stance, the right swing, nothing stood in her way. Split. She built this cabin in these woods by herself. Split. Kiki had no experience in something mundane as building a house from scratch. Split. Strangely, the mundaneness was what made it fun. Being used to living in luxury. Never got the chance to actually create something for the sole purpose of being comfortable. Split. She pushed up her sleeves now that she was getting too hot. Pink arms. Split. Kiki heard little awkward crunches in the snow. Split one more log and turned around. Mora with her messy red hair looking down at her boots, carefully lifting one up in front of the other so she doesn't fall over. Snow crunching under her boots. "Hey there love," She softly said, "What you up to?" Mora rose her head. Big toothy smile, "ye." "You hungry?" She shook her head. "Cold?" Shook her head. "I'm too busy to play love, I've got a lot of work." Mora pointed at the split logs, "ye." "The logs? What about them?" "Ye." "You want to help?" "Ye!" She interlocked her fingers and jumped in excitement. "You want to help me out darling?" "Ye." "Okay," she rubbed her nose. Numb. "Okay, get your gloves on and you can take some of these split logs inside, okay?" "Ye!" Mora turned back to the cabin and went back through the snow. Kiki continued slicing down the logs. Mora returned and carefully picked up a log over half her size and slowly brought it inside. Kiki looked up inbetween each stroke, making sure Mora wasn't going to trip over. She never did.

When Kiki decided enough had been chopped for a day she started to assist Mora in piling up the wood. On the last trip back she ran up behind her unsuspecting daughter and picked her right up. She wiggled and giggled in her mothers arm. They made their way inside and Kiki walked up to the fire pit. It had died down a bit. Needed feeding. "Ok Mora, in we go," she held Mora in a throwing position, "A one, a two..." Mora shook her head and made complaining noises. "Aren't you cold love?" "Ye." "Well the fire is hot, you'll warm right up." Mora shook her head back and forth, humming loudly. Kiki laughed. "Oh maybe another time," She bent her knees and placed Mora on her feet. "Here I want you to help me make this fire bigger." Mora shook her head. "C'mon darling we'll get it right this time. Here I'll help." Kiki grabbed some tinder and balled it up in her hands. "Okay, so hold this. Mora, c'mon hold it in both hands... both hands. Yes that's it. Now here comes the hard part alright? I want you to feel the warmth and fire in your tummy." She placed a hand on Moras' belly. " I want you to feel it build up in you then let it rise up up body, through your mouth and release it on to the tinder. You can do it love. Just like Mummy showed." Mora concentrated hard, brow low, staring at the ball of tinder. She looked pale. Concentrating harder and harder. Sweat on her brow. She then puked, mostly on the floor, some splating her clothes. "Okay okay that's enough for today," Kiki started to while the puke off her clothes and her mouth. She saw tears in Moras years. "Oh don't worry my love," she switched sleeves to wipe the tears, "now go change and I'll get you something to eat. Okay?" "Ye," Mora mumbled, she ran off Kiki watched her go. She smiled. She grabbed and struck her flint at he tinder, some of the spark catching hold and making themselves home. Kiki blew lightly on them and build on to feed it. As it got bigger and more hungry she built around it with sticks and log halfs for later. Shortly Mora came back in new clothes and stood next to her mother. Kiki sat Mora on her knee and hugged her warmly. Watching the fire dance and illuminate the cabin. They ate silently then went to sleep together.

The next day Kiki refueled the glowing embers. She grabbed a pot and approached the door. The cold and some snow flakes rushed in when the door was opened. Kiki scooped up some snow into the pot and returned inside. Kiki hung the pot over he fire so the by the time she came back it would have melted. She got dressed, grabbed her fur coat, a basket she made but really needed to fix, knife, gave Mora a kiss on her warm head and stepped out into the winter wonderland. The snow powder was up to her knees, but there was no wind which all she really wanted. Not that is would stop her, it was just nicer if it didn't feel like someone was stabbing her in the eyes with a frozen hedgehog. Kiki loved it in the middle of the forest. Before they left her sister told her not to. That it was pointless to live out here. To force yourself into living a day at a time. While true it took her a while to be comfortable not washing every day, getting used to foodless weeks and she was still not used to the winters. Nonetheless, this was her home now. She had herself. She had Mora. She was happy. Kiki waded through the snow, following the marked trees which she had carved the bark off of years before. Before long she was upon the shallow river. She walked up stream, soon finding a plot of watercrass she had been saving for today. She had harvested what she could in a reasonable distance down stream and avoided upstream in case of emergencies when food was scarce. Kiki squeeze through the grabbing bushes that lined the river, removed her boots, folded up her pant legs and waded into the water. She took out her knife, grabbed a handful of watercrass, sliced off the tops. She hummed to herself to make the monotonous work ever more enjoyable, and to distracted herself from the freezing water. There were sudden splashes down stream. She twisted and looked. On the opposite side of the river a man wearing thick boots and a heavy riding coat was kneeling on the edge, his hat was off, gloves lying next to him. He cupped his hands, allowed them to fill with water, then wiped his face and bald head. He gave out a faint gasp when the water contacted his face and kept his eyes closed breathing steadily as it trickled down his face. Kiki left the river silently, never losing sight of the man. She knelt and picked up her boots down the beach. Her legs were numb and she shook to keep herself steady. She walked slowly and carefully down the beach, concentrating on not losing her footing. Each pebble she stood on shifted and creaked. She become more nervous. She shook more. Her footing gave way and she feel down, bruising her knees. Kiki swung her head around. The man was looking directly at her, fists clenched. She pushed herself up. She had to get to her daughter, she had to get away from here now. the bark of a tree exploded followed by a roar in the woods. She slowly turned around. He had lowered his dragoon pistol, pulling a lever to re-chamber it then raised it back up at her. "I need you to hold still right there m'am. I will not miss and I will follow your tracks to find where you came from," he ordered, "All I want is your hospitality." A younger second man holding a blunderbuss in one hand came out of the woods. He looked at his partner, then towards Kiki. She saw the first man mumble to the second man. He nodded, glanced at Kiki and returned into the bushes. "What is your name?" His hand was steady. She made no reply. "If you want to put those boots back on you may." She still didn't move. "We need accommodations, food and direction. If the frost gets to your legs that will be no concern to my friend and I's. If you choose to not have to saw them off, I heavily suggest you wake up and do what is important for your own survival." He was right of course. She had allowed herself to panic and wasn't thinking straight. She had to do better for her daughters sake. She slid her fur lined boots back on her feet. As she was knelt down she saw the handle of her knife in the basket. She steadily reached for it, to put it up her sleeve. Taking it out in one fluid motion to take down at least one before taking out the other. She was fast enough if given the chance. "No," he shouted, "Leave the basket. Stand and look at me." The second man returned with their hastily packed bags and tent, along with something long and thin wrapped in a thick cloth that was strapped on his back. The first man received his leather purse from the second man without lowering his pistol. The second man held his blunderbuss at waist height towards Kiki. He began to walk towards her through the stream that reached his knees. The first man set his hat on his head, picked up his gloves and followed through the river Once the second man got to her he checked her wet basket filled with the watercrass. He pocketed her knife, grabbed a handful of the water crass and crewed on it. The first man came to her and looked her hard in the eye. "I'm going to have to check you for anything that could do us ham. We are your friends and all we want is your help, are we understood?" She raised her eyebrows and glanced at thee blunderbuss pointed at her, "You must have a lot of friends if you're always like this." "Are we understood?" He held is eyes. She stared back at him. "Yes," she said through a toothy grin. He nodded and had her raise her arms. He patted her arms, sides, waist, legs. Checked around the insides of her boots, stood back up and nodded towards his partner who lowered his gun, but didn't holster it. "I am Jacques, he is Vincent of house Valois. We have traveled far and seek shelter until land clears." "You haven't traveled this far North often have you?" "No," he admitted. Kiki smiled, "Just two outlaws in way over their heads, eh?" "Don't you speak to us like that," she lazily glanced over at Vincent. "We will not be talked down upon." "And I will not be threatened fool," she said, "You're a little under dressed for this far north aren' t you? And the way you're holding your arm there boy, "she pointed with her chin, "You're not going to survive much longer." The men said nothing "So how about, "she continued, "you think of your life and your choices, then in the next one you won't be as stupid." Vincent brought his gun and around in a solid arc into the side of her head. She didn't remember falling down, Kiki just found herself using a tree to help her back up groggily. She took her time getting up from her knees. Her toes were still numb and she nearly tripped. Then her head started to throb and the low drone of burst ear drums sank in. She dug her nails in tree bark to help her up, but as the cold sweat hit mixing with the steady stream of warm  blood trickling down her face, her stomach seezed and she coughed up it's contents. Jacques and Vincent were shouting at each other. She heard Jacques and Vincent shouting. They were already on edge, so maybe feed their fear and paranoia? Turn them against each other as the hours pass, ask them questions, give praise to the older one and subtly humiliating the other. She saw blood drip from her face and land in the snow. She already tried that plan, angering the men when Mora was around would be a terrible idea.  Jacques approached her and held her arm tight. "Take us to your home, now." She knew he was losing control. Panic was in his eyes. The younger one had an injured arm. No doubt they'll require her to inspect it. Probably bandage it. Did she have anything she could use to her advantage? "Just kill her-" "You will remain silent!" Jacques shouted, he turned back to Kiki. "Take us to your home. Now." She felt her brow, it was sticky with blood. "Allow me to clean my head first." Jacques breathed heavily, his darting into hers. He grunted and waked her to the river. She bent her legs, cupped her hands into the water and gently rubbed her head. She did have something to use on Incidents arm. Clean the blood off, sneak some fungus in. She didn't know what it would do. She tested it on a young injured doe she found. In hours it appeared to be reliving its least favourate nightmare. An injured doe and a full grown man were different things, would she get the same result? "That's enough," Jacques yanked her back to her feet and pushed her towards the tree line. "Take us to your home." She cracked her neck, grabbed the basket and walked on through the snow. She couldn't just poison the food, they'd be expecting it. She'd need to time it right. If she could get her mushrooms into Vincents' arm, at one point he'll collapse. Jacques first instinct would be to check on him. Then it's only a matter of which pointy object or blunt instrument to use from behind. She took out her Handkerchief  and dabbed it on her head. The plan was shit but it was the best she had. And since they were outlaws and panicking there are going to be hunters tracking them which would be the start of a whole other problem. And then there was Mora. Dear Mora. She couldn't risk hoping they will stay the night and leave. If the hunters found the house that will be a new level of danger, whether or not she killed the men or they left. She needed a plan fast. She opened the door to her home. Apart from the blazing fire it was dark inside. She dropped the basket to the side and went straight for the boiling pot above the fire. She picked it carefully and quickly and poured it into a bucket. As the men entered, taking off their hats and pocketing their gloves, Kiki scanned around for her daughter. She was out of sight. That was for the best. Vincent had taken off his heavy coat and was by the bucket of hot water. He kept on his red waist coat and white cotton shirt. His upper right arm was strapped with stained bandages. He tested the heat, then dipped one hand in and started to wash his face. She wished she had the opportunity to poison that water. She needed to use every opportunity she had at her disposal. Very aware that she won't be able to use the poisoned hot water trick again, she took the steaming pot and filled it with more snow to melt. Might as well. Kiki returned the pot. Jocques was walking around the house with his satchel open. He was finding any knife, sharp object, anything she could of use to bludgeon the men and dropping them all into the satchel. Vincent finished washing and was now drying off his face. His arm was still cradled close to him. She and Jacques' faces were pink as their blood rushed back into their heads. Vincent on the other hand was still as pale as the snow. "Do you want me to look at your arm?" "It's fine," he grumbled. He tried his best to casually look at the house and hide his arm. "At least let me get you new bandages," she made a movement to where the mushrooms were hidden. "You won't do a thing," Jocques was walking towards her closing the satchel. "An imbecile like yourself can see that they need changing." "An imbecile like myself knows that you're not wanting to do it out of pity," he tapped his satchel, it's contents clinged together. "We have our own bandages and we will change them when the time comes." "When the infection takes his arm?" "Shut her mouth." "Remain calm Vincent," Jocques ordered. He turned back to Kiki, "you will take every opportunity to kill us. We are not killers-" "Just thieves." "-or thieves. We will stay until the snow passes then we will leave." Kiki gave a throaty laugh, "Why did you come this far North if you know nothing of it? You didn't come here by choice and judging by your friends arm," she could feel Vincent glaring at her, "You've been forced here because you have killed and because you stole that." She pointed at the thick cloth wrapped tightly around the object it was hiding, Vincent looked at Jocques. "I have seen a lot of killers and a lot of thieves in  my life time and you are no better and no different." Jocques said nothing. "So Jocques of house Valois," she spat, "if you are to be under my household, we best learn to get along. Because your plan is not going to work. If a hoard of hunters came knocking on the door, they will find you and they will burn me in here. I will make you a map of the best way to escape these lands, I don't care if you trust me. All you should care about is how well you treat me." Silence. Kikis' heart was ripping itself from her chest. If Mora is found she'd have no leverage. They'll take her, thearten to kill her and force them to show them the best route and they will all die out there. "So," she resisted a stutter. "Give me a knife so I can prepare supper." The water in the pot started to bubble. The popping was the only sound to go between any of them. Jocques gave in, rummaged in the satchel and pulled out a small knife. "I will help you so you don't poison us, Vincent?" He looked up, "sit in the corner, if she tries anything, shoot her in the leg," Jocques handed over his pistol, "Your blunderbuss will blow us both away. We need a route out of here." "With pleasure," he grabbed the pistol, chambered it and walked over to the bed. As he sat down Kiki was screaming in her head, praying that Mora wasn't going to be found. Vincent sat heavily down, pistol on his lap, looking as threatening as possible. He concealed the pain in his arm fairly well. The stew she made for them all wasn't imaginative. Jocques had been carefully watching her throw food in. He did not allow any of the mushrooms to be used. Vincient was quiet, not always watching though. Kiki took the occasional chance to look around to him. He was always holding his arm, picking at the dried blood on his bandages. "When has the last time you changed those bandages?" "Are we talking about this again?" Jocques murmured. "It appears we are." "How unfortunate." "Losing the arm would be unfortunate." Jocques clenched his fists and mutter under his breath. "You know I'm right." "Be silent." She returned to work, Jocques took a second to look away over to Vincent. Kiki slipped three hidden spotted mushrooms under her sleeve.  Jocques turned back. "Is this done yet?" "It was done a while ago." "Then why didn't you say something?" "Was hoping you'd be inspired to add an actual flavor to this stew." Jocques said nothing. He spooned out a bowl and handed it to Kiki, "Yours." She nodded, walked over to the table. Vincent saw this and stepped over to the table too. He reached over to her bowl and she slapped his hand. "Mine." Vincent stared at her, she looked back. "Here," Jocques came up and placed a bowl down for Vincent. He reluctantly accepted it and sat down. Both Kiki and Jocques sat down with him. The men rested their elbows on the table as they ate, while Kiki hand one hand to spoon up the stew. The other she used to let the mushroom on her lap. Her wrist as already irritated from touching the fungus. She used a Handkerchief to pick up the mushrooms and she slowly crushed them inside. "This tastes awful," commented Vincent. "Not my fault," replied Kiki. The mushrooms were in small lumps inside the rag. Jocques begrudgingly lifted the bowl and swallowed the rest. He closed his eyes and made a face. Went to get more. Vincent just played with his food. "You need to your bandages changed Vincent." He sniffed and smiled gravely. "And you would want to do that?" "I don't feel like holding you down as Jocques saws off your arm." "That's enough woman!" shouted Jocques. "These are long winters my lordship," she spat, turned back to Vincent, "If I'm stuck with you I might as well keep you in one peace." Vincent tapped his spoon rapidly on the table. "And what would you do?" Vincent asked. "My best, inspect it, clean the wound, do what needs to be done." "His arm is fine," Jocques said, "he received a cut so I burnt it to seal the wound to stop any infection." "And when was the last time you inspected it? Last time you cleaned it?" Kiki demanded. "Enough!" yelled Vincient. Kiki and Jocques looked at him. "You," pointing at Kiki, "do what you need to do. If I get suspicious I'll shoot you in the leg are we clear?" Kiki nodded, hiding the victory she was feeling in her eyes. "The Hell are you doing Vincent?" "I don't know," he said honestly, "For some reason I'm stuck in this house in the snow. It was supposed to be a straight forward mission and a lot of people died. All under your command." "Don't you blame me for what happened!" He stormed over. Kiki jumped out of the way as Vincient flipped the table to confront Jocques. "I will blame you! It was your mission and you failed all those men back there." Kiki looked between the men. In the darkness she could see her child, still as stone and hidden well. She felt a mass amount of strain leave her. "If we did not retrieve the Hammer, many more of our people would die!" Kiki started to pay attention. "Those men died for a nobal cause, they will not die in vain because this woman poisons us!" "We both have been watching her all afternoon and will still be watching her look at my am," he said through clenched teeth.

High tension and heavy breathing. Kiki gave her daughter a wink to imply that everything will be okay and under control. She wondered if Mora knew she was lying. Vincent turned the table back up and sat back down, clicked his fingers at her. "Come tend to my arm," he rested it on a table. She glanced at Jocques. "He doesn't need healing, over here," he didn't even look over at Kiki. She sighed. Kiki grabbed the bucket of water and a large piece of cloth. Started to unravel the dried bandages. As each layer slowly came off they started to stick more and more and become harder to take off. Vincent twitched breathed through his nose. "Be more careful." "Being as careful as I can." "No your not, do better. She stopped what she was doing, "The blood has dried up and these bandages are stuck to your wound. That's because you didn't use a wet cloth directly on to it. What I'm going to have to do is tear this dirty rag off and reopen the wound." Vincent twisted his head to her with wide threatening but scared eyes. Pale as the moon and sweating. "I'm going to need to create an ointment to help your arm from infection." "You'll do no such thing," Jocques ordered. "And what we you have me do?" Questioned Kiki, "apply cold water and kiss it better?" "Stay out of this Jocques." "I will not put your safety in her hands man!" Vincent shrugged, "We both already are." He nodded to Kiki. She continued "I will not be part of this," growled Jocques. . Blood trickled down his arm onto the table. The bandage ticked as it unstuck itself from the black dried blood. He held a fist not moving, only allowing his face to flinch. Kiki came to a the last bit. It was dug in there with the careerist wound. "After burning it did you rub ice to cool it down?" "Yes," Vincent panted. "Well after this I doubt you'll have any nerves left in your upper arm. I'm going to have to rip this right off. Here give me a moment, "she turned to Jocques and held out a bloodied hand, "Give me a bullet for him to bite down on." He huffed at her and continued to sharpen hit knife. "Your gun is right next to you. Give me a bullet, I can't do anything with a ball of metal." Jocques made no move. "Some in my satchel," Vincent gasped. Kiki stood up, balled up rag with crushed mushrooms being held tight. "No!" Jocques check his satchel and pulled out a bullet, "here." Jocques threw it, which Kiki purposefully missed catching, letting it drop. "You're not getting another," chuckled Jocquess. He continued to sharpen his knife. She bent down and searched for the bullet, allowed some dirt and wood chucks to be caught on her bloody fingers and picked up the metal ball. She slipped it into the mouth of Vincient, who accepted it begrudgingly. "Couldn't of cleaned it beforehand?" He made a motion to spit out the chunks. "No," she tore off the rest of the bandage. It was hard to say how much skin she took off.  She sat back down next to him, took out of the mushroom rag and dipped it into the bucket of water. "This is going to sting." "Fuck you!" Kiki squeezed the rag and rubbed it into the the bloodied arm. She ignored the shouts, wiped the blood, forced mushroom into his arm, let it bleed more, rag in the bucket, repeat. He was sweating violently and banging his free arm on the table. Jocques must've felt sympathy because he went out side and came back with his Handkerchief  covered in snow. He dabbed Vincents' brow to cool him off. When Kiki was sure a decent amount of hallucinatory mushrooms was in his arm and blood stream, she did a final wipe down, folded and wetted a new rag. She applied it carefully on to his arm, got Jocques to hold it in position as she started to wrap around it. The knot was tied and no blood was seeping through. Jocques rubbed the back of Vincent head. "How d'you feel?" Vincent spat the ball into Jocques chest, who laughed hard and pulled him in for a hig. Kiki could tell that this was the closest thing to fuck they've both had in weeks.

Kiki predicted that Vincent will be affected in 30 minutes. As soon as he was down and Jocques made a move to check on him she had to acct fast. Jocques lay Vincent on her bed. Jocques had every sharp object in his satchel. Her axe was outside. It'd take too long to get it, she had maybe 5-10 seconds of Jocques being distracted by Vincent. To get the axe she'd have to run outside grab it and run back in. And that's hoping He wouldn't notice her suddenly running away. She could not risk that. Maybe there's a usable weapon in Vincents' satchel? Jocques was stroking Vincients hair by the bedside. Another idea was to sneak Jocques knife from his belt, or maybe his pistol. Although she was never a great pickpocket he may not be too aware of much as soon as Vincent starts to have his hallucinations. There are too many maybes in this scenario. Jocques walked over to the table and chairs rubbing his eyes. "Long day then?" "Long day," he rubbed his nose. "Well I dont suppose you'll be sleeping." "You suppose correctly," he started to tap his fingers on the table. "Here, sit down, lets talk." She folded her arms, "about what?" "About anything." "And if I don't?" "Well if you don't feel like talking there's not much I can do about that except talk at you. If I'm going to be awake all night I'd like a bit of company and he's not talking much so I'm left with my second best option." He looked over at her. He made a motion with his hand to beckon her over and he sat down. SHe kept her arms folded. He took out his sheathed knife from his belt. "See this?" He threw it onto the bed next to Vincent, pulled out his pistol, cocked it, pulled the trigger, empty, laid it on the table. "I'm disarmed, don't worry." "And your satchel?" "What of it?" She raised her eyebrows. Jocques removed the satchel and dropped it to his boots. "Happy?" "Haven't felt this good in days, why?" "Well it's about to get better because I'm great company so sit down." Maybe she could club him to  death with the butt of the pistol. Too many maybes. Kiki stepped over to the table and sat. No words were passed. "Why live out here?" Jocques questioned, scratching his stubble chin and looking around. "What do you get from this? Why live by yourself in the middle of no where surviving?" "You must be a lord." "Don't what that has to do with anything." "Of course it does." "If, you're implying that I don't enjoy living off the land and traveling you're wrong. It's the seclusion I don't understand. You're living out here on purpose." He had his arms folded as well, "why is that?" "There doesn't have to be a reason," she shrugged. "It's more interesting if there is." "Sorry to disappoint you, I'm not interesting," she smiled. "Why are you out here?" "I like the weather." "Must do since you're not wearing the right gear and don't know where you are." ""Makes it more fun." "Oh yes it does," she said dryly, "why are you out here?" He picked his nose with his thumb not looking at her. "On a mission." "What mission?" "I'll tell you my secret if you tell me yours," he flicked his noses contents. Kiki didn't look away. "Was in an arranged mar ridge and had to get away from it." "Are you seriously taking that route?" "It's true." "No," he said, "No it's not." "What are you expecting to get out of this?" "I need to pass the time and haven't had a good conversation in weeks," he rubbed his face and leaned forward, put his elbows on the table. "I'm trying to get a good chat, that's all." "That's all?" "Yes," he cracked his knuckles, "that's all so lets start over and stop this going around in circles. How are you?" Vincents'  mushrooms weren't kicking in fast enough, "I'm fine." "That must be nice, how's life in the house?" "Quiet." "Why's that?" "I live by myself." "Were's your husband?" "Never married." "Why's that?" "Never interested me." "See?" He smiled, "being social is fun, isn't it fun? "Fantastic." "Your turn." "With what?' "Ask me questions, good friends get to know eachother so lets get to know eachother." He lowered his head in a 'get on with it' fashion. Kiki sat still, "You're a soldgier." "That I am." "Why are you out here?" "I volenteered." "That was a mistake." "Never noticed." "What did you steal?" "Secret." "I stole a child, what did you steal?" Jocques paused and looked at her straight in the eye, "Something very dangerous that will help my people." "That's not vague." "Not as vague as your secret. What child?" "One that was going to be sacrificed." "Where is it?" "Dead," she shrugged, "living, I had to give it away." "Why? You're fairly secluded out here, couldn't you of kept it?" "That was before I came out here." "Is that so?" He rubbed his chin. "What did you and your men steal?" "None of your buisness." "Of course it's my bloody buisness," she yelled. Caught him by suprise. "You gave me no choice to let you in and your friend thanks me by bleeding everywhere. If it's so dangerous why can it help your people and why did you sacrifice your men to get it?" He pointed a finger and growled ,"I didn't sacrifice anyone and you don't raise your voice at me." "Then why aren't you dead? This thing of yours," she pointed at it, "is so important to your cause, it must've been well guarded and you used a suicide attack so you could sneak it away." He stood up holding his breath and pushed hard against her chest. her chair leaned back and threw Kiki to the ground. She was winded for a second. She raised herself up to have Jocques force his boot on her to keep her down. All his weigh on her chest. Hard to breath. She saw a handle of a knife in his boot "I sacrificed no man out there," he growled. "They all died for a good cause." Vincient made a noise of a mouse being crushed. Jocques looked round to him. Kiki gripped the handle and yanked. Not coming out. Jocques felt the tug and looked back down. Then raised his foot and stomped on her hard. Now she was windedd and unable to breath. "What did you do?" He accused, grinding his boot on her. Still couldn't breath. "What did you do? While her vision was blured she could she smoke coming from him. He noticed the smell first, looked around to see his sleeve burning and smoking up. Then he saw Mora. "I knew you were lying," he stomped on Kiki one more time then knelt and held Mora by both arms. Mora didn't skip a second due to being so young and not in control and she screamed. Loud. Jocques winced then he felt his face getting hot. He didn't understand. Kiki regained her breath and coughed hard and crawled away as fast as she could. Jocques began to shout as well. Which someone would do when their beard, eye brows and hair on top of their head started to erupt in flames. He let go of her and attempted to put it all out. Mora was still screaming. Kiki got to her feet and went for the door, into the dark and grabbed her axe with both hands and came back. Jocques had failed to put out the fire for now his entire head was a balled of pained screaming flame. Kiki ran towards him, raised the axe above her head and brought it clean down. His screaming stopped. Moras didn't. Jocques collapsed down and the rest of his body caught on fire. Mora was red in the face. Kiki crouched down and held her steaming body tight. It's okay love, love it's ok, mommas' here, she rubbed her back. She couldn't here a thing other than a loud ringing in her ears. She'll deal with that later. Kiki repeated her words over and over until Mora stopped and just cried. Her body was stiff and steaming. Heat and smoke filled the house. They needed to get out now. She lifted up the burning Mora and ran outside into the cold. Kiki trudged through the snow. Mora held on tight with arms around her neck and legs wrapped on her waist. Kiki turned. The house hadn't erupted into flames, but if she didn't go in now for supplies they'd be left with nothing. Mora, she said. Her ears screamed as high pitched as her daughter. Love listen, I have to let you go. She felt her daughters chest vibrate and her body clenching tighter. Babe, I will be right back, I'm going to get your boots and your blanket, then we're going to go for a long walk just you and I, okay love? As tight as Mora held on, Kiki was stronger and released Moras' clasp. She was wailing, her hands together and chewing her fingers through her tears. I'll be right back, She kissed her cheek, I love you and I will be right back. Mora shook her head and moved her mouth. She could not hear her and ran into the house. It became apparent to Kiki that holding her child actually burnt her arms and hands. They were hot read and stang, biting and twisting every second up and down. She shouted when she clenched the door and swung it open. A rush of heat embraced her. Hot skin cold sweat. She was going to be sick. Must concentrate though. Needed whatever she can carry. Kiki grabbed boots coats, she grabbed Vincients satchel (he wasn't going to use it anymore). She then made her way to grab the blanket. A a strong arm from behind wrapped around her neck and tightened. He was saying something so wouldn't of wanted to listen to so she interrupted by digging a nail into the blood spot on the bandage. Vincent fell down crippled. She turned and saw the pale wet mass of confused horror clutching its arm. She kicked it in the nose until she was satisfied then grabbed the blanket. Besides the door lay a burnt pile of rags. Inside was a black hammer. It looked very familiar. Which was the point of it. The hammer was a fake. Kiki knew this because it was the last thing she built. What the men wanted was taken years ago and to stop suspicion her people replaced it. She spat down on it and ran out to Mora. She was met with a hug as soon as she crouched. Hey there I'm back, I'm back, Kiki repeated. She picked out Moras' clothes ad boots and began to dress her. A small hand touched her ear. Kiki looked up to a concerned and confused Mora studying the wet blood on her fingers. She kissed her again and continued dressing the child, their house burnt down. Then monastery Jocques and Vincent stole from would see the smoke and follow it. They'd be there fast. Luckily Kiki was faster.

I will go down with this ship: Chapter 14

"Dobe" He muttered.

"Eh? What did I do?" Naruto questioned, Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"Just stay away from me, you've already done irreversible damage" Sasuke replied, placing the next riddle in front of him and going over it, "If you must remain within my personal space then you better make yourself useful, you know the seas better than me so what exactly could this be?" Sasuke asked, pointing to the riddle. Naruto tilted his head at the mysterious enigma, wandering with all he could.

"I should probably point out that I still can't read Latin" Naruto stated, Sasuke sighed with an air of annoyance. Feeling relatively calmer now that the ship was leaving the chilling mist, the sky eventually cleared up and revealed an unblemished azure.

"It reads 'Go to the land where man eats his brother, where sacrifices take place on one another', for goodness sake, keep up" Sasuke read aloud, Naruto was frowning down at the riddle though, his expression troubled. "What?" Sasuke asked, fretful when Naruto's perturbed aura made itself prominent.

"Hitokuijima" Naruto stated, Sasuke arched an eyebrow toward the new term.

"Hitokuijima? What's that?" Sasuke enquired, Naruto sighed.

"It's what this riddle is talking about…" Naruto answered quietly, though Sasuke just smiled.

"Brilliant! We should be able to proceed then, let's go" Sasuke encouraged, though feeling awkward when Naruto remained still, "That means you go and take us there" Sasuke added, looking over him to make sure he wasn't a statue, "Go on" Sasuke shooed, Naruto shook his head.

"You don't understand, Hitokuijima is a dangerous place" Naruto spoke up, lighting Sasuke's curiosity.

"How so?" Sasuke questioned, mild surprise that Naruto would take such caution.

"Hitokuijima is an undeveloped island, the people that live on there are tribes, but these tribes they're…" Naruto trailed off, trying to find a way to break the news gently, "Cannibals…"

"Cannibals?" Sasuke repeated astounded, "Ridiculous, they don't actually exist, they're just from stories" Sasuke denied, though Naruto shook his head in return.

"They're real, real nasty too" Naruto replied, Sasuke frowned.

"What are we going to do?" Sasuke enquired, Naruto sighed and placed a hand on top of his hat.

"It's doable, but difficult, we'll have to keep it organised" Naruto explained, effectively turning around and giving an attention-demanding whistle. "Listen up, next place we gotta sail to is Hitokuijima" Naruto stated, an uncomfortable murmur running through the crew, "I know, I know, but we know that rumours don't scare us away, but just in case, I'll come up with a plan" Naruto reassured, though his words were only taken into account as Karin stepped forward.

"That's all well and good, Naruto, but what the hell are we supposed to do if we run into these cannibals?" Karin questioned, hands on her hips. Naruto smiled.

"If they attack, we attack, simple" Naruto answered, Karin sighed.

"This is too dangerous" She pointed out, shaking her head.

"Look, we all knew what we were getting into when we signed up for this treasure hunt" Naruto reasoned, Karin scowled in disagreement.

"I signed up to sell that brat!" She snapped, it was a tense moment before Naruto opened his mouth again.

"Karin, plans changed-"

"Oh please, as if you would've succeeded" Sasuke interjected, glaring at the redhead, "Your lack of skills and poise would've foiled any plan you had, at least you're not completely wasting your time with this hunt" Sasuke ridiculed, Naruto gulped slightly as Karin approached Sasuke menacingly, though he didn't shy away.

"Listen, here you little-"

"I'm not afraid of you, so don't you dare try to intimidate me because you'll only be making a fool of yourself" Sasuke hissed, folding his arms unafraid, though each member of the crew would deem it a fatal mistake. "Though you seem to constantly making that mistake" Sasuke added with salt, Karin saw red as she reached for her weapon. Thankfully, her friends held her back.

"Karin, calm down!"

"It's not worth it!"

"Just breathe!" They all screamed, trying to avoid Sasuke's blood being spilt. Sasuke remained unfazed by her fury, akin to watching a shark from a tank. Naruto had his hands in front of Karin in an attempt to soothe her rage.

"Karin, let it go" Naruto calmed, Sasuke made a triumphant smirk along with a boastful sound.

"Hn, that's right, maid, quiet" Sasuke teased maliciously, making Karin fight against her restraints more. Naruto sent a small glare towards the boy.

"Sasuke, just go in my quarters" He stated.

"Why? She's the one with anger issues" Sasuke responded, Karin was shooting deadly daggers at him now, Naruto gave him a hardened look.

"Sasuke, now" Naruto ordered aggressively, Sasuke flinched at the harshness of his tone. He did as he was told and retreated to Naruto's quarters, his arms folded and his face disdainful. Naruto followed shortly after, closing the door. "Sasuke" Naruto started in a warning tone.

"I'm blameless, it was her own rash performance that is at fault here" Sasuke ranted, whipping around with his own ire, Naruto began to stride towards him, "She is completely out of line! She should r-respect me and I have…um…n-never, um…" Sasuke trailed off as Naruto towered over him with a grave aura.

"Listen, you can insult me all you like, even spite me, but you can't treat my crew like that" Naruto cautioned, Sasuke shifted and swallowed slightly.

"But she-!"

"I don't care, if you got a problem then you take it out on me, you don't make my crew like that, you understand?" He questioned, however, it would seem that it could only be met with one answer, Sasuke reluctantly nodded his head, disinclination alit in his black orbs. Naruto lightly shook his head, "Geez, love, what you doing to me?" He asked, raising his hand to scratch his blonde locks, though he wasn't expecting what happened next.

As Naruto raised his hand, Sasuke's eyes shot open and immediately brought his arms up to block any form of attack. His head ducked down and body trembling. Naruto's eyes widened, filled with such shock that he froze with his hand in mid-air. The only movement was Sasuke's own shivering. His shut eyes were squeezed tight. There was only a painful silence that Naruto couldn't comprehend. He slowly lowered his hand, his stunned expression still apparent.

"Sasuke…" Naruto voiced quietly, staring at the raven who opened his eyes and lowered his defence. He looked confused towards Naruto.

"Why…why aren't you hitting me?" Sasuke voiced, Naruto's eyes widened even more.

"What?! Why would I-?! I would never hit you, Sasuke" Naruto promised, though he wasn't met with relief so much as perplexed.

"But…I angered you, so I need to learn" Sasuke voiced, his words not his own, but of a darker and much crueller disciplinarian. Naruto felt genuine pain at Sasuke's word, the invisible scars coming to light. He couldn't help but encase Sasuke in a hug, Sasuke's blinked in bewilderment, "What are you…"

"I would never hurt you" Naruto stated, his mouth muffled in Sasuke's midnight hair, "You don't have to learn anything, at least not like that, you're safe on this ship, I swear" Naruto swore, Sasuke was baffled by his promise, not understanding their meaning.

"Naruto…" Sasuke spoke, gazing up at him with innocence that only a child could possess, untouched by morality of love. Naruto sighed.

"I shouldn't have been that harsh, but you need to understand that my crew is my life, I need to make sure that they're happy" Naruto explained, Sasuke was still lost in mystified truth, but he slowly nodded.

"Um, okay…" Sasuke agreed, Naruto smiled down at him, though Sasuke eventually began to squirm, "Um, can you let me go?" Sasuke asked, Naruto blinked before realising that he still had a grip on Sasuke.

"Oh, right, heh heh, sorry" Naruto apologised sheepishly, releasing him and stepping back, "I got to go make sure Karin still isn't in killer mode and sail us to Hitokuijima, just wait in here until it calms down" Naruto stated, Sasuke nodded as Naruto left. He sighed lightly and attempted to find some form of entertainment. He noticed a bookcase that remained embedded in the walls. He paced over and let his finger drift across the untold tales, choosing which to read first being his enjoyable torture.

"This'll do" He said to himself, picking up a thick, crimson book with a brown, leathered spine. The golden font reading 'Fairy Tales Of Another Time'. Sasuke smiled lightly, remembering the days of when Itachi read him to sleep with stories of fairies and goblins, princes and princesses. Sasuke carried himself to Naruto's chambers, where his red bed lay temptingly. Sasuke laid across it and opened up the book. He began to read until minutes turned to hours and eyes turned tired. He eventually fell asleep on the luxurious divan, unruffled and tranquil.

Naruto rubbed his weary eyes as he held the wheel, hours of being there taking its toll. He blinked a few times before shaking his head, refocusing himself to steer the helm. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, he turned his head to see his dear friend.

"Oh, hey, Bee" Naruto greeted sleepily, Killer Bee shook his head at him.

"Fool, you need to go get some sleep, and I don't want to hear a peep" He rapped, Naruto chuckled as he took in the fact that it was around midnight, he nodded.

"Right, thanks, Bee" Naruto smiled drowsily, Killer Bee nodded at him as Naruto stalked off to his quarters. Naruto yawned and stretched as he approached his heavenly bed, he raised an eyebrow when he saw that it was currently occupied by a sleeping raven. Naruto blinked at the Sasuke's peaceful form, he chuckled when Sasuke gave a small pout before his face relaxed again. Naruto knelt down on one knee and smiled softly at the sleeping beauty, "Hn, what are you doing to me, love" Naruto muttered, he was tempted to relax next to him, but decency prevented him. He made a few adjustments to Sasuke before retreating into his other room.

The next morning arrived without so much as a whisper, Sasuke's midnight orbs fluttered opened. He gently sat up and yawned hazily, he looked around to see that he was not in his usual room. He blinked a few times to adapt to his new surroundings, gazing down he noticed that he was wrapped in soft sheets. He faintly remembered falling asleep in Naruto's bed, but he most certainly didn't remember this. Sasuke moved out of the sheets and walked towards the arch, he peeked out to see Naruto in his chair and slumped onto his desk. Sasuke blushed lightly when he fully comprehended what Naruto did. A small tug of guilt prompted him to thank him.

"Naruto?" Sasuke voiced, walking over and tapping his shoulder, Naruto suddenly came to life and lifted his head.

"Huh? What?" He responded woozily, he blinked a few times before he saw Sasuke at the side of him. He shook his head awake and gave a sleepy smile, "Hey, love, what's going on?" He asked softly, still lulled by sleep. Sasuke shifted with slight embarrassment, fiddling with his fingers.

"Well, I just wanted to-because of last night-thank you, since it's…appropriate" Sasuke answered with hints of nerviness, Naruto blinked in surprise for a few moments before he understood, he chuckled.

"Anytime, love" Naruto responded, Sasuke avoided his line of sight before giving a fake cough as to change the subject.

"A-Anyway, are we on our way to Hitokuijima?" Sasuke asked, Naruto nodded.

"Mm-hm, we should be there within the hour" Naruto stated, getting up and stretching, "But I should probably go over the plan with you and the others" Naruto yawned, Sasuke followed Naruto out of his quarters; eyeing strangely at Sakura and Lee who looked excited at their appearance from the quarters. Karin glared at him, he returned it even as she spoke.

"Brat" She hissed, but he disregarded it as Naruto gathered everyone around.

"Listen up! We all know Hitokuijima is dangerous, so we wanna get in and outta there as quick as possible" Naruto started, agreeing murmurs from the crew, "So we'll split us into four" He stated, "Me, Temari and Lee will take the west side of the island; Karin, Sakura and Tenten will take the east; Bee, Kiba, Suigetsu will take the North, along with Sasuke" Naruto added, Sasuke's eyes widened.

"Wait, why do I have to be there?!" Sasuke exclaimed worriedly.

"Because if something is in Latin then we need you" Naruto answered with a smirk, Sasuke huffed when he realised that he couldn't argue. "Anyway, Choji, Shika, Shino, I need you guys to keep the ship ready to be sailed, if trouble arises then we need to get our asses outta here" Naruto stated, they nodded in agreement, "We'll be coming in on the south of the island, because it's harder to live of that part so it's least likely to be inhabited by the cannibals" Naruto lectured, "Any questions?" Naruto voiced.

"Why is it that rain drops but snow falls?" Lee asked.

"Good question, but it's not relevant" Naruto answered, "Any others?" Naruto asked, met with silence he nodded, "Good, because we're here" He stated, everyone looked out to see the island in the distance, they all took their deep breaths in preparation. Some cracking their knuckles and necks, while others made small prayers. Each to their own. Sasuke remained passive aggressive and huffed.

How senseless! What could possibly happen that's so ruthless?...Sasuke questioned internally, regarding the crew mates as over-emotional. Unaware of the future and its events, with the utmost boredom he gazed the island that became closer and closer. It's normal appearance unexciting Sasuke.

Though looks can be deceiving.

I know where you poop.

Trinkets, 12: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A sealed vessel topped by a jackal’s head, all crafted of glazed porcelain. The canopic jar contains a wrapped and preserved humanoid stomach.

A sealed vessel topped by a mummy’s head, all crafted of glazed porcelain. The canopic jar contains a wrapped and preserved humanoid liver.

A sealed wooden box holding seven sealed scrolls containing missives to seven different people. The missives are written in code and need to be deciphered.

A set of four metallic, pointed-toe boots designed to fit a horse or a similar equine creature

A set of soft leather suspenders that fasten to buttons on the front and back of trousers. They have two adjustable iron clips, triangular in shape and heavily rusted, each bearing an etched diamond shape.

A set of ten leather sleeves that fit over one’s fingertips and extend right up to the knuckles and palm.

A shattered stub of a wooden stake. Black blood covers the stake’s tip. Barely visible under the blood is some kind of rune, but its meaning is impossible to determine as part of it is missing.

A shrunken head of a zombie which still occasionally snaps its teeth together and moans.

A silk scarf once used to gag a captive siren. It occasionally makes strangely attractive sounds when the material rubs against itself

A single glove with three large fingers that puts out any candle sized or smaller flames it touches.

---Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

---Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A sealed vessel topped by a jackal’s head, all crafted of glazed porcelain. The canopic jar contains a wrapped and preserved humanoid stomach.

A sealed vessel topped by a mummy’s head, all crafted of glazed porcelain. The canopic jar contains a wrapped and preserved humanoid liver.

A sealed wooden box holding seven sealed scrolls containing missives to seven different people. The missives are written in code and need to be deciphered.

A set of four metallic, pointed-toe boots designed to fit a horse or a similar equine creature

A set of soft leather suspenders that fasten to buttons on the front and back of trousers. They have two adjustable iron clips, triangular in shape and heavily rusted, each bearing an etched diamond shape.

A set of ten leather sleeves that fit over one’s fingertips and extend right up to the knuckles and palm.

A shattered stub of a wooden stake. Black blood covers the stake’s tip. Barely visible under the blood is some kind of rune, but its meaning is impossible to determine as part of it is missing.

A shrunken head of a zombie which still occasionally snaps its teeth together and moans.

A silk scarf once used to gag a captive siren. It occasionally makes strangely attractive sounds when the material rubs against itself

A single glove with three large fingers that puts out any candle sized or smaller flames it touches.

A single leather glove that is extremely durable and resistant.

A single sheet of of non-flammable paper that erases itself every night.

A six chambered spice box containing different varieties of pepper

A skull of a small rodent with a name carved into it in tiny runes.

A slate tablet with an exquisite picture of a prominent nearby landmark on it. The chalk image is unfinished and a small box of materials rests nearby.

A sleek corset which includes a patterned brocade of skulls.

A slender belt pouch specially treated to be waterproof. Inside the pouch is  a variety of dried herbs. Each bunch is tied together with twine.

A slender chain supporting a small wooden holy symbol of an evil cult’s God. A cultist’s name is etched on the back of the symbol.

A slender scroll tube cleverly carved from an immense fang that holds a single sheaf of tightly wound parchment. The parchment holds a map showing the surrounding area in a simplistic form. The map marks several nearby dangerous locales.

A slender wooden twig which cannot be broken by any man

A slowly beating clockwork heart

A small black branding iron with a stylized “S” forms the iron’s head. The tips of the “S” end in crude snake heads. The iron is wrapped in bloody, scorched cloth.

A small black pouch containing a set of cosmetic tools for cleaning the ears.

A small blue disk that seems magnetically attracted to skin and is hard to pull off when its comes in contact with flesh.

A small bottle of eye drops that make the user’s eyes seem completely white with no pupils. This effect lasts for an hour and the user suffer no loss of sight

A small brass bell that rings a different note every time

A small card marked “Get out of jail FREE” in Common. The local King’s official stamp or good forgery thereof is displayed prominently on back.

A small ceramic cat with a perpetually waving arm

A small ceramic pot that produces a tiny puff of colored smoke once every hour and a half

A small coin pouch containing five large golden triangular coins stamped with symbols of the minor god of greed, lies and outer beauty. Perceptive PC’s will notice that they are actually lead coins covered in a thin layer of gold leaf.

A small coin purse containing a set of ten false fingernails painted with mysterious symbols.

A small drawstring bag of marbles made from real marble

A small flask of pure spring water. The leather flask itself has a small strap allowing it to be carried over the shoulder.

A small frozen glass-like flame that subtly melts and refreezes, morphing over time. It reflects light (Especially firelight) very well but gives off no heat or light of its own.

A small globe of glass with a city inside, if touched or moved one can hear soft screams.

A small half-full wineskin containing a powerful, but harsh, brandy smelling strongly of blackberries.

A small hand fan that only blows hot air.

A small hand mirror that shows someone other than the viewer when gazed upon

A small hourglass who’s sand only runs when someone nearby is hungry

A small inconspicuous black bag containing a collection of dirty implements including: a pliers, a dozen needles, a scalpel, a half dozen clamps of various sizes, a vial of powdered glass, a pair of thumbscrews and a suspiciously clean steel tablespoon.

A small ivory statuette of a small human child

A small knitted octopus

A small leather pouch of loose smoking tobacco

A small leather pouch tied shut with thin leather cords contains a half-dozen carefully wrapped white mushrooms. The mushrooms are fresh and tasty. They contain a mild hallucinogen that when ingested creates feelings of euphoria and visions of subdued colors bursting forth from any nearby mundane light source. Magical light gives forth more vibrant colors; the more powerful the magic, the more vibrant and scintillating the colors. The effects last for 2d4 hours per mushroom.

A small locked box that quietly hums a lovely melody at night but all who hear it cannot recall it by morning

A small mass of grey metallic ooze that can be stretched but not pulled apart

A small mechanical snapping turtle

A small metal bar etched with the word: “Help.”

A small metal box made of six inward facing mirrors that put off a dim glow which keeps the interior perpetually illuminated. Located inside is a small figurine of a crying angel. The figurine disappears if it is ever  outside of the box and is not actively watched by at least one intelligent creature.

A small metal box made of six inward facing mirrors.

A small metal box with broken hinges. When pried open a preserved eyeball will be found inside. If touched the eyeball will share mentally with the user grainy imagery of several hidden treasure hoards but doesn’t provide any clue or direction to the hoards.

A small metal cylinder with a lens at one end. When looked into, randomly colored geometric patterns can be seen. The patterns change if the end is twisted

A small mirror on the end of a rod that can be used to peer around corners.

A small piece of amber containing a spider in the process of eating a fly

A small piece of apparently unbreakable glass that slowly ripples like the surface of a pond.

A small piece of fabric that still holds the scent of a lost love

A small piece of granite in the shape of a rhomboid that occasionally turns to liquid, but always reforms quickly

A small piece of rock that floats almost imperceptibly above the ground

A small portrait of a family with all of the eyes crossed out

A small pouch containing common herbs for making tea

A small pouch containing three quills wrapped in an ink-stained cloth, two small vials of ink (red and black) and several scraps of crumpled parchment.

A small pouch made of blue chain mail. When opened on a surface, hundreds of tiny, green ants march out, find nearby small objects (coins, pins, buttons, beads etc.) and begin hauling them back towards the bag. If bag is inspected it is always found to be empty of the ants or anything they have collected.

A small pouch that sometimes has a rock in it, and sometimes doesn’t

A small pouch with a fold-over top holds a half dozen slender knives. All are razor sharp and spotlessly clean. Some have very strangely shaped tips. To a collector of torture equipment (or perhaps an apothecary or necromancer) the set may be worth something.

A small rabbit-fur pouch filled with ceremonial herbs and incense

A small rectangular device that makes a chirping sound at the same time each day

A small red velvet pouch. The pouch is all but empty, however a determined examination reveals a few flecks of diamond dust stuck to the lining.

A small round grey stone that, when held, gives the user complete control over their pinky toes.

A small sack full of blood-soaked earth destined for the garden of an evil cultist. According to the attached note he believes using blood-soaked earth gives his crops a “certain taste”.

A small scroll case containing scraps of paper that, when ordered properly, become the outline for an epic poem. Based on the outline and the few incomplete verses, this would have been the bard’s masterpiece.

A small scroll tube containing several pages of sheet music for a haunting melody that sticks in the listener’s head if played.

A small silver locket that opens to reveal a tiny painting of a severe-looking woman wearing a ball gown. The clasp for the locket’s chain is broken, perhaps it was ripped from its owner’s neck.

A small spool of spider silk

A small stone chest containing the preserved heart of a virgin, wrapped in shroud-cloth

A small stone face that hovers a few inches in the air, occasionally slamming down to the ground

A small stone hammer, worn down to a nub

A small stone idol in the shape of a feral, wildcat

A small stone that shifts through the color spectrum over the course of a week

A small stone that sings a lullaby in an unknown tongue when you rub your thumb over it

A small travel pouch containing a symbol drawing kit, consisting of a length of string, chalk, compasses and a notebook with detailed notes and diagrams.

A small utility knife made of flint with bone inlays

A small wooden idol of a cross legged man in prayer

A small, colorful pebble that (No matter what) somehow finds its way back to its owner at sundown.

A small, corked, dark glass bottle filled to the brim with a powerful liquor

A small, slightly worn, silver broach in the shape of a dove with an inscription on the back that reads, “To my dearest, Lorael, on the 400th anniversary of your birth.”

A small, soft, black pouch containing a half-dozen lock picks. One is horribly bent and all but useless.

A smoked glass urn containing the ashes of a cremated mage

A smooth green stone that, when palmed, causes strange music to play in the bearer’s mind.

A soft cushion that never gets warm

A spindle-shaped piece of blue stone with a golden rod stuck in it that occasionally vibrates and produces fragments of not-quite-human voices, none of which speak a familiar language.

A spoon made of linen that makes food taste amazing when moving east

A square pane of glass set in a bone frame that shows images of animals you’ve never seen.

A squishy ball that randomly changes color when clenched or squeezed.

A standard copper coin that always lands on its edge.

A steel belt buckle that pulses when moving upwards

A steel holy symbol of a minor God of a Random Evil Domain, which has one particularly sharp edge. Close examination reveals dried blood smeared over it.

A stone tablet, broken at one end and covered with odd writing. Each night of the full moon the writing glows and dogs in the nearby area begin to bark.

A stoppered clay flask decorated with lewd images of demons cavorting with humans.

A strange barbed choker that makes the bearer’s voice more resonant

A string necklace made up of various bits of bone and teeth, presumably trophies from an adventurer’s travels. Most are from kobolds, goblins and the like, but the centerpiece tooth appears to be from a young dragon.