#this fic is actually absurd i'm sorry. but if at least one (1) person thinks this is hot i'll consider it a success. it only takes 1 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cuubism · 10 months

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literally just smut, dreamling, prince/knight dynamic, uh. lowkey virginity kink. lowkey degradation kink. yeah.

The war camp is dark, the tent only barely lit by a few scant candles, but Hob is wide awake.

It had been a fantastically successful battle, that day. Much needed after a string of losses. They’d absolutely destroyed the enemy, Hob’s only just managed to clean most of the blood off himself—and he’s still riding that high hours later, blood pumping, restless energy racing as he occupies himself cleaning his armor and his sword.

Technically, he could get someone else to do these menial tasks. He’s a knight, he’s of high enough rank to request it. But Hob’s always believed a man should tend to his own weapons, should know every piece of them. It’s the same reason he takes care of his own horse, and his own tack.

Besides, the repetitive motion of the cleaning is taking the edge off.

There’s another thing that can cut the edge of the battle high.

Sex.

How fortunate, then, that Hob is on good terms with so many of the working ladies of the camp.

Not that it’s really so hard to be on good terms. The bar is so low that simply not behaving like a total dick seems to do the trick—but the fact remains that when Hob calls for one of the messenger boys who hang around outside to send for whoever’s working that night, he knows someone will come by. He pays them well, he gets along with most everyone, and it’s really not that hard to get one’s prick wet under those circumstances.

He’s just finished oiling the final leather straps on his armor, is hanging it up to await the next fight, when he hears the entrance flap of the tent, to his back, swish open and shut again. The rush of cool night air into the warm, close space.

“Be right with you, luv,” he calls, tying off the last strap, and a deep, sonorous voice responds—

“Please, take your time, Ser Gadling.”

Hob whirls around, nearly falls over like a buffoon he goes so fast. Standing there is not one of the working girls he’s come to know. It is, in fact, Prince fucking Morpheus, dark hair tousled by the wind, wrapped in a long velvet cloak that sparkles like stardust where the light catches it.

“My prince,” Hob stammers, trying to decide whether he’s meant to bow and managing only a dip of the head. It’s Prince Morpheus’s fault, this awkwardness, Hob would have managed with perfect politeness the sudden arrival of one of his siblings, or even the King himself. It’s only Morpheus that fells him so. “I—”

“—called for a whore?” Morpheus finishes, quirking a brow. Hob can only describe the look in his eyes as mischievous.

Anything Hob might have possibly managed to say is derailed by the rush of interest to his dick. That look, that phrase in Morpheus’s pretty, proper mouth— and what is he implying—?

“That’s… not the word I’d use,” Hob finally manages, throat tight. “Did. Did you need something, my prince?”

“As I’ve said,” repeats Morpheus, taking a fluid step closer to him. And he’s— he’s fucking barefoot in the grass. Lord have mercy. “You called for a whore.”

Hob should step back. Instead he’s rooted to the spot. Paralyzed by a swirling mix of fear and arousal. “That’s not— you’re not—”

Morpheus keeps advancing on him, liquid and predatory. The deep vee of his robe suggests he’s wearing nothing underneath. He’s got some kind of glitter under his eyes. And he’s— he’s so beautiful. Hob has always thought so, especially on that one blessed night when—

“Do you think me not a whore?” says Morpheus. He says it with allure, almost pride, not shame. “Do you think, my knight, that I have never slunk into some lord’s bed to steal secrets? That I have never used my body to seal an alliance, when my words were not sufficient?”

Hob should be horrified at the thought of his prince debased so. Instead, the image of Morpheus on his knees flashes through his mind, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from whining. “That’s not— the same,” he manages.

“Is it not?” Hob’s ankles hit his bedroll and he trips back, falling on his ass and bracing himself on his elbows, and Morpheus follows him, crawling up Hob’s body in a long, sinuous movement, the velvet of his robe soft wherever it touches his skin. “People can make sex their trade for coin, but it is different when I offer myself up in exchange for goods or laws or partnerships?”

If that’s all the case, Hob should find out what Morpheus wants with him now. Instead he asks, breathless, taken in by Morpheus’s eyes, “What did you trade for, then, my prince?” Maybe Hob doesn’t care what Morpheus wants with him. Maybe he only cares that Morpheus wants him. “When you let a foreign king bed you, did you use your mouth?” He touches Morpheus’s lips with his fingertips, and Morpheus smiles, sharp and pleased. “Or did you let him fuck you?”

The thought is as jealousy-inducing as it is arousing. Hob has no right to be jealous about his prince. But.

“What I needed to,” says Morpheus. “I have learned how to bait my lures. Many kings, I have learned, like to ruin pretty young men. Do you know—” he taps a fingertip along Hob’s lips “—how many times I have ‘sold’ my virginity? Played the hapless youth desperate for an older man to teach him, to use him?”

Fuck. Fucking hell.

“And did you learn?” Hob asks, hyperfocused on every point where their bodies are touching.

Morpheus tilts his head at him, suddenly all innocence. “Learn what?”

And, well. He does know how to bait his lures, it turns out. Even knowing he’s sinking his mouth onto a hook, Hob growls and flips them, pushing Morpheus down into the sheets. Morpheus lets out a startled breath that Hob’s pretty sure is affected but still succeeds in sending a thrill through him, and a powerful sense—careful, delicate, don’t hurt him. Even though the small part of Hob’s brain that’s still checked in to reason knows well that Morpheus is the one truly in control of whatever’s going on here.

“Should I teach you, then?” he asks, dragging a hand through Morpheus’s hair— so soft. “Show you how good I can make you feel?”

“Please,” Morpheus breathes, wrapping a delicate hand around the back of his neck. Hob really hopes he isn’t going to get drawn and quartered for this. Might be worth it, though. He doesn’t want to die, but if there were a way to go… “Hob, please.”

Fuck, his name in that wanting mouth.

“Got my mouth on you last time,” he muses, the sense memory of Morpheus’s prick on his tongue rushing through him, the hard press of the palace flagstones on his knees, “think I can show you something new, now.”

“I defer to your experience,” Morpheus breathes, as Hob pulls open his heavy velvet robe. As he’d thought, Morpheus isn’t wearing anything under it, and the thought of him walking through the camp like that to get here makes Hob want to bite something. Morpheus makes him so base and irrational.

Hob hadn’t gotten nearly this far last time. Had simply pulled open the ties on Morpheus’s breeches, let his prince tug on his hair as Hob took him in his mouth. Now, he has Morpheus fully unveiled to him, like a gift, like an offering, and, just like an offering, Morpheus stretches, arches his back, long limbs in relief and his cock laying hard against the crease of his thigh. He’s so pristine, always tucked away in his palace, where Hob has been out in the trenches—literally—getting sun-tanned and rough and dirty.

Although. Not so pristine as Hob might have thought. Apparently.

“You’re beautiful,” Hob tells him. “Your body is beautiful. I can’t wait to show you what I can do with it.”

Morpheus shudders, keeps playing along with their little facade of inexperience. “Will you ruin me for other men, Robert Gadling? Defile me, destroy my reputation so no respectable lord or lady will ever dare take me as their spouse?”

“You came crawling to my bed, pretty thing,” Hob says. Nips at Morpheus’s belly, which makes him cry out, such a pretty, keening sound, and then soothes where he’d bitten with lips and tongue. “You’ve been wanting it, I think. Someone to take you down, someone to fuck you.”

“Perhaps I simply wanted to reward my favorite knight,” Morpheus says, trailing off into a groan as Hob leaves another mark low on his pelvis.

“Should have told me you were the prize for valor,” Hob says. “I’d have killed twice as many men. Come to your bedroom still covered in the blood I spilled in your name.”

Morpheus actually moans at the image. “I’d have had you that way. My knight.”

“You can have me now.” It’s tempting, to do as he did last time, and take Morpheus into his mouth. But Hob wants to do something different to him. And he has the sense that Morpheus wants something different done. “Go on. On your belly.”

Morpheus’s breath leaves him in a shuddering rush, but he does as Hob says. Hob runs his hands down over his smooth back, his ass, his wiry thighs, kneeling between them and pushing them further apart. Morpheus whines, moving his hips in little circles to get the barest amount of friction on the sheets.

“You need it so badly.” Hob parts Morpheus’s cheeks with his thumbs, rubs over his hole, and Morpheus keens. “Don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, Hob, show me—”

Hob swipes the oil from the bag beside the bed—because yes, he is prepared for these sorts of things, if not specifically for his prince showing up—and dips his fingers in. Rubs them together to warm it, then slides one finger into Morpheus, without pause, straight to the first knuckle.

Morpheus lets out a choked gasp, fingers clenching in the sheets. The sound makes Hob’s cock twitch where it’s already straining in his breeches. “Hob—” he moans, strangled, “Hob, I—”

He starts to lift himself up, and Hob pushes him down with a hand on the back of his neck. Morpheus struggles for a moment and then goes boneless under him. Hob releases him and strokes his hair. “Good boy. You want it, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Morpheus says shakily, pushing back on Hob’s hand when he starts working that finger inside him. “Please. Please.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Hob promises. Having Morpheus, his prince, his beautiful prince, splayed out under him like this is heady. If he weren’t so focused on Morpheus’s reactions, he might have lost his grip on his own arousal already. “But you’re mine.”

He slides another finger in, and Morpheus moans raggedly. Hob doesn’t know if he’s truly getting overwhelmed or if he’s still trying to play the clueless virgin, but either way it’s burning through Hob’s veins. He gets Morpheus writhing on his fingers, achingly hard in his own pants, taking each of Morpheus’s pleasured, crying moans as its own prize.

Morpheus is shaking, panting, as Hob pulls his hips up, undoes the laces on his own breeches to pull out his cock, lines himself up. Morpheus presses his face into the bed, fingers tight in the sheets. Hob touches his lips to the base of his spine, tastes the sweat there. “My prince?”

Morpheus swallows hard and it still doesn’t seem to clear his throat. “I am ready.”

So Hob braces his hips and pushes in, one long slow slide. He groans at the same time as Morpheus moans, so ragged it’s almost pained. “Fuck you’re tight.”

“Well,” says Morpheus, “you are the first to have me so.”

Even aware that Morpheus is only playing at it, the words make Hob feel like he’s clinging to sanity by a thread. “You’ve been waiting so long, haven’t you?” he manages, as he starts to move, still holding Morpheus by the hips. Morpheus sighs at the slide, thighs trembling. It’s enough to make Hob obsessed. Morpheus is so tight and hot, Hob really doesn’t know how long he’s going to last, but he’s determined to give Morpheus just a bit of that ruination first. “Waiting for the right cock to fill you?”

Morpheus pushes back on him with a whine. “Yes.”

“Kept yourself as a prize for me?”

“Yes. Hob.”

Hob reaches around to take him in hand, and Morpheus cries out, bucking into his touch, pinned in place. Hob moves faster, each thrust pushing Morpheus into his grip, his breeches scraping roughly over Morpheus’s bare thighs, and it feels so base to have him like this, still clothed, taking him like a casual whore when he’s a prince. It feels wrong. But so good.

“How’s it feel?” he asks, voice gratifyingly steady. “For your first time?”

Morpheus lets out a wordless groan. Then, “Good. So much. I—” he trails off again, losing his breath. And this, too, is gratifying, reducing Morpheus, usually so eloquent, to broken sentences and simple words.

“Good, love.” Hob soothes a hand over his hip. “That’s good.”

But before Morpheus can settle, Hob increases his pace, pounding into him so hard and fast that Morpheus loses what remains of his balance and is held in place only by Hob’s hand on his hip, his arm wrapped around his belly. Each thrust pulls a sharp gasp from him, his face pushed into the sheets— and Hob’s nearly insensate with how good it is, but still he manages to pull Morpheus off in time with each thrust.

“Hob—” Morpheus chokes, “Hob, I’m—”

“You can come, love. I want to see you.”

Morpheus comes with a bitten-off cry, spilling over Hob’s hand. He’s so beautiful like that, Hob’s formal, perfect prince—crumpled in pleasure, eyes screwed shut, hair damp with sweat. It’s a collision of every illicit thought Hob’s swallowed down when he’s looked at him. In the palace, on campaign, at times when he was meant to be guarding Morpheus and when he wasn’t. He can’t last long thinking about that, seeing that, so he bends low over Morpheus’s back and kisses the back of his neck. One small, tender touch in this game of roughness and transaction, one touch before Morpheus inevitably swans back out of his tent, back to his writing and his diplomacy and his other diplomacy, and— fuck—

Hob holds Morpheus to him as he comes, wishing he could say, don’t go back to anyone else. You’re mine now, come to me. But those aren’t his words to say.

Morpheus slumps down to the bed, boneless and satisfied. Hob follows him, breathing hard against the back of his neck, finally releasing him from under his weight. Morpheus only winces a little when he pulls out, and Hob yanks off his own shirt and uses it to wipe off Morpheus’s stomach, between his thighs. Morpheus sighs, tipping his head back, a tiny smile on his face, then turns to face Hob, leaning on his arm.

Hob’s swiftly learning how weak he is for that smile on the face of the usually unreadable prince. He trails an exploratory finger along Morpheus’s jaw, up his temple, into his hair. Morpheus closes his eyes at the touch, slow and sleepy.

“Was that better than your many transactional trysts?” Hob asks. “Or do I have work to do?”

“I would not know,” says Morpheus, a self-satisfied little smile now curling on his lips. “Considering those did not occur.”

Hob blinks hard, mind going blank. “What.”

“I spun you a story, Robert,” Morpheus says. His voice is sex-rough, his hair a mess, his gaze drags over Hob’s body with a proprietary touch. “And it is a fun story, is it not? Plying secrets from between the sheets, returning home victorious when one was thought to be had. And,” he drags a fingertip down the center of Hob’s chest, “coming back to the bed of a lover. One whom one wants to be with. To be made his again.”

Hob is still stuck on this. “Wait, are you telling me you made all that up?”

Morpheus smirks. “Do you truly think that my words would ever be insufficient to obtain what this kingdom needs? Do you think I need to use my mouth other ways to get treaties signed?”

Well, when he puts it like that.

“It was a compelling story, though,” Morpheus muses as Hob continues gaping at him. “You seemed compelled.”

“Morpheus, why?”

“I wanted to see how my favorite knight would respond to knowing other men had had me,” he says, and keeps dragging his fingers through Hob’s chest hair in self-soothing patterns. Then his expression shifts from clever to almost shy. “And. I thought that if you knew the truth, you might defer too much to me. Treat me only like your prince.”

Hob’s stomach swoops. “And… what’s the truth, then?”

“That evening at the state dinner, when someone meant me harm and you saved me…” his voice holds a note of wonder now. “That. Was the first time that I had ever.”

“What?” He can’t lie to himself, the thought of being Morpheus’s first, for real, does spark something in him. But also. Morpheus is a prince. And Hob had been…

“I had never before had cause,” Morpheus explains. “I was uninterested in marriage. And I never found anyone worth threatening my reputation over. Until…” His lips purse, stressed now. “And I wanted you so. And. You wanted me.”

Hob is speechless, running through every second of that night in his mind. Sweeping Morpheus into his arms and out of the way of a blade. Morpheus’s wide eyes staring at the slice in Hob’s arm, the blood welling there. Blinking and finding himself crowded into a side hall, Morpheus panting into his mouth, the hunger of his pretty lips, heat and adrenaline running through Hob’s body, pushing Morpheus against the wall and sinking to his knees in front of his charge, his dear, his prince to worship. The tears that had pricked at Morpheus’s eyes as Hob had taken him all the way down.

Christ.

“Does that bother you?” Morpheus asks, uncertain now.

“I’d have shown you a better time then if I’d known,” Hob says, because doesn’t he deserve to be properly taken care of? “In an actual bed.”

Morpheus lets out a little huff of a laugh, expression easing. “I enjoyed it.”

“And then…” he lets his hand come to rest low on Morpheus’s waist. “You came back for more.” He kisses Morpheus and swallows his pleased sigh. “Hungry little thing.”

Morpheus’s breath shudders, and he clings to Hob’s hair, his shoulders. Hob’s about to roll on top of him again and kiss him properly, maybe more once they’ve recovered themselves, but pauses as a realization sinks in. “Wait. Does that mean—”

“Yes, Hob. You were the first man to fuck me.” He sighs. “Use that information against me if you wish. It is out of my hands, now.”

Hob is reeling with shock, and even more so with arousal, heat flashing through his body at the mere thought that all Morpheus had pretended at, newness and learning and raw, unpracticed want, had been, at least somewhat, real. And he had let Hob have that. Catch it. Had trusted him.

“Never,” Hob swears, kissing his cheek. “I would never. You’ll be my secret. Besides. I don’t think anyone would ever believe me even if I said. Me, with you? A prince? And a gorgeous one at that?”

Morpheus runs his hands over Hob’s shoulders. “You are handsome. And very gallant. I do not see what you mean.”

“Well, that’s flattering. And I won’t tell you to take it back.”

Morpheus runs his tongue over his lower lip, eyes dark where they trace over Hob’s jaw, shoulders, chest. “I have. Wanted you from afar. For a very long time.”

Obligingly, Hob kisses him, and sweeps his hands over Morpheus’s lower back, drawing him close. “You’re a prince,” he says, breathless again with want for this wonderful being. “You can have whatever you want.”

“So,” Morpheus nuzzles at his jaw, “I may steal my way into your bed? You would not mind that, Ser Gadling?”

“Sneak in, or stay, I won’t mind. I’ll give you all my secrets.”

Morpheus hums. “And your loyalty?”

Hob thinks he means it playfully, a continuation of his ruse from before—but it comes out much more serious. His gaze finds Hob’s with a deeper wanting than when he’d swanned into Hob’s tent, all draped fabric and fluid lines of desire.

“You have it already,” Hob murmurs, and Morpheus’s pleased sigh as Hob kisses him is a balm to his soul. “My prince.”

#if i don't post this attempt at 'just smut' now i'll end up crawling into a hole and eating the crumpled paper of it instead #just doing smut outside of a plot is like so hard mad respect to the people who write smut oneshots damn #dreamling #nsft #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ye olde prince/knight dynamic #my writing #this fic is actually absurd i'm sorry. but if at least one (1) person thinks this is hot i'll consider it a success. it only takes 1 #im cringe but im free

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helloamhere · 4 years

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The novel covid19 terribleness has kicked my somewhat dormant hypochonria into overdrive and in turn the frequent and frantic hand washing has exacerbated my eczema and my hands aren't fairing too well. Not where I thought I'd be in 2020 lol. On the bright side, I'm a law student who works at a small boutique law firm and my awesome boss has sent us home for the next couple of weeks. Stay safe & take care! + Also, can I selfishly ask how the X-Men au peeps are doing?

I’m SO glad you have an awesome boss, like you deserve!!! Yes for getting sent home. It is tough to be at home but it’s so much better to have that option and be able to do it for those who can’t. Love that. Oh gosh I feel a lot of sympathy for the latent hypochondria, I bet that a ton of people are with you on that these days. Mental health is key right now, and at least staying at home means you could potentially wash your hands less? Step 1, we get through this. Step 2, we all help each other learn how to be outside again :). I am looking forward to that. I can feel the anxiety around me too, I am having a hard time being outside even just on our daily walks, but keeping it up for the sake of not letting it get worse. However, it’s also ok I think to know that our brains are trying really hard to protect us and they are reacting to the stress and the fear this way. I’m grateful to my brain for the way it is always trying to figure out how to do the best thing.

X MEN AU OMG. I don’t even know how to talk about this one actually, I want to share for you, but it’s not so much an escapism fic world. It is such an intense world for me and so deeply tied to the idea of how we survive in difficult times….like I was already struggling with wondering whether I had the mental energy and capacity to finish&share that fic and this experience we’re all going through REALLY makes me want to post it but on the other hand I put so much like, real stress about what I’ve lived through into it that….I dunno it all represents a struggle to me in what fic is allowed to be about and whether I feel like it’s appropriate to try to tackle some things in such an absurd, mashed up, fantasy world that includes things I love and things that terrify me.

And I dunno what to do about it. Hahahah omg you did not ask for this stream of consciousness. I’m sorry, turns out in a pandemic I am a BIG oversharer. But I guess I can ramble about it!! So:

***

One thing in the xmen au is that Louis is a teacher. Because after all, the mansion is a school before it’s anything. Louis is of course, young, not a professional educator, but all of the X-Men who have grown up in the mansion and don’t fight on the front lines on a regular basis (like Harry does) have their role in the running of the school itself on the day to day. Because of Louis’ particular types of powers (he has an affinity for understanding the biological underpinnings of most mutations), his class is kind of like the ‘gym class’ for the mansion. He gets the kids out of their heads and into their bodies. So Louis teaches a once a week class on developing mutant powers, and practicing them.

Most of these students are in a personal, private crisis, most of the time. After all, they’re different from their families, they’re away from home, they’re not even sure what home is. Some of them have been abandoned, and some of them are living through the long, slow abandonment that is not being understood by the people they love most. That is a crisis on an individual level. What is it that helps, then? Turns out, it helps to learn. Every week, no matter what, they get together. Every week, no matter what, they learn a little bit more about themselves, about what they can do, about how they can do it safely. There’s a kid with telepathy who goes from lifting pencils to lifting desks. There’s a kid who can make plants grow—first just weeds, accidentally sprouting through the windows—but then plants with fruit, maybe even medicinal plants, who knows. They talk about what they see on tv and they share about mistakes they made the night before and sometimes Louis has them ditch the classroom altogether and all jump in the pool–the telekinetic kid has an unfair advantage in sweeping everyone over the side.

Most of all they practice. They practice being themselves, whoever that is, and they practice using their powers. They practice the scary things, and the impossible things, and they do it inside the safety of the mansion, and they know that the world outside is big, and ever-changing, but they also know that they are learning. Sometimes this is a useful thing about living in a crisis: you thought that your powers presented only one future, but when all the normal things fall away, you can see a different future. Sometimes it’s a better one. Sometimes even the scariest things become useful, when you understand them.

#ask #save you from the world fic #xmen au #coronavirus tw #covid-19 tw #rambling about fic #I don't know if this was remotely something you wanted to hear about but here it is #love you anon #be gentle with yourself #helloamhere quarantine asks

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that-is-where-they-wait · 4 years

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That is Where They Wait Ch 13: This is Why Jay’s Not Group Leader

previous / next all chapters AO3 FFN [HAHA 13th CHAPTER ON HALLOWEEN, I’m a GENIUS. jk I’m just dead, sorry everyone, happy Halloween. hugs and kisses to the 5 (five) people that still give a damn about this fic] res·pite | /ˈrespət,rēˈspīt/ | noun | 1. a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

The shadows created by his tiny flame cut stark figures on the walls, the floor, and both their faces. They were far too sharp to be natural, too unsettling to be ignored. Kai was getting sick of the agitation thrumming under his skin.

This room they'd found was nice and all, especially considering the door had a lock, but they couldn't stand around and wait for safety forever. The longer they stayed put, the longer they risked getting well and truly lost. And seeing how Karlof had been lost when Kai'd found him cornered by the spirit, that was definitely a risk.

Kai twisted the knob and pulled.

The door stayed put.

Frowning, he tried again. And again, tugging more harshly. Still nothing.

They'd just gotten themselves locked inside the room. Did it lock from the outside or something?!

Frustrated when persistently pulling at the door did nothing, Kai yelled and punched it as hard as he could. A moment later, hissing and rubbing his knuckles, he realized that was a mistake.

"Let Karlof try," the other man said, buckling up to attack and slamming the door with all the force he had. Both of his gauntlets hit the wood with an impressive, booming 'thud', but the door held. Kai squinted — were there even any cracks on the thing?

"Uhh … do it again," he suggested hurriedly. "Maybe if you keep at it, it'll start to crack."

And Karlof did take a few more spirited swings at the door standing in their way. No good; somehow the door was still in one piece. Not even anything other than hairline cracked. (Just how did a stinking door manage to be stronger in the face of Karlof's punches than him, anyway? Ouch, his ego.)

"Doesn't make sense! How is door not broken already?" Karlof asked, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Great question! Wish I knew." Petulantly, he threw his leg back and kicked. Unsurprisingly, it did nothing, and he was left glowering at the door as his toe throbbed briefly. The last bit of the flame in his hand winked out as he lost his focus, and he had to generate a new one. (Blast their weakened powers.)

Okay, so this was an exasperating turn of events. But hey, they could find another way out. Kai's free hand flew to his chin as he thought about it. Maybe they didn't have to break the door …

"Hey, Karlof. Maybe if you use your metal powers to rip off the hinges. You think we could get the door off that way?"

Karlof just stared at him for a second.

"Karlof don't particularly care."

Hold on, what.

"Walked all day just to get to stupid mansion, then ran around forever just to get away from ugly monster. All Karlof want right now is some rest."

"Tell me you're joking," Kai hissed. "We can rest once we get back to where we were! Unless you wanna be wandering around lost."

"Breaking down door takes energy. Karlof don't have energy right now. Plus, if we can't go out, monster can't come in," Karlof pointed out.

He had a point. Kai remembered what the others had said about the magic surrounding everything. It leeched their energy, didn't it? Karlof looked pretty wiped. He was loathe to stay away from the others any longer than necessary, and he hated how everything about this place felt, but it'd be just mean to deny the guy a chance to rest. He liked to think he wasn't that much of a jerk.

Karlof grimaced after a moment. "Also … maybe pulled leg muscle while running. Don't know for sure."

"Oh, and of course you save that for last," Kai groaned. "Okay, fine. We'll stay in here a while. You're just lucky the door's locked."

"What I wouldn't give for a working camera right now, to capture the look on your face." Cole shook his head and chuckled.

No one had counted on the passage from the clock workshop taking them right back to the room they were staying in — least of all Jay and Skylor, who had their first taste of the passages from a bewildered posse of ninja stumbling out of the wall. They'd both jumped nearly clear to the ceiling; poor Skylor had actually almost fallen off of the bed she was sitting on trying to scramble to her feet.

"Ohh, shut up! The wall just opened up out of nowhere and spit you out; what was I supposed to think?! You would've have been just as startled!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, zaptrap."

"It was pretty funny," Lloyd said, smile muted but genuine.

"Helpful," Jay huffed. "You wouldn't happen to have found them, would you?"

Cole shook his head and gestured at the empty space to his left. "What do you think?"

Jay sighed, expression dropping. "Thought so. … You guys mind explaining why the walls just spit you out?"

"Please," Skylor added. "If you're going to give me a heart attack, at least tell me why."

Lloyd turned to really see her, and noticed that she was fiddling with what looked to be the pieces of her crossbow. Then he did a double-take. Before he could say anything, Zane spoke up.

"Apologies for startling you, and hello, Skylor. It's good to see that you're — oh my."

"Yeah, I know." Skylor grinned ruefully, eyes obscured by…

"Those are Kai's shades," Lloyd blurted out. "How come …?"

"Ask Jay," she shrugged. "He had the idea of giving them to me in the first place."

"Hey, I couldn't dim the lamp or fireplace anymore or they'd go out, and I know Kai's always carrying a pair of sunglasses with him, so …yeah."

"They really do help, though," Skylor said. "It's easier to fix this thing" — she frowned at her broken weapon of choice — "when I can keep my eyes open."

"Good to hear it," Zane said, ever the one to keep tabs. "But hopefully you won't be needing it too soon." Skylor frowned, but didn't respond.

It was hard to figure out how he felt about this. On the one hand, heh. Of course Kai kept sunglasses on him at all times.

On the other hand, the fact that they were Kai's only pulled worse at something in Lloyd's chest. If they didn't find him fast, Skylor using his sunglasses was gonna feel more like a sick joke than anything …

He expelled the thought quickly.

Kai would be okay. He had to be.

Cole went around haphazardly patting different objects in the room until he knocked back a glass lantern on the mantelpiece shutting the passage entrance, meriting a few snickers at how silly he looked. Then he started telling Jay and Skylor how they'd discovered the passage system, but gratefully let Zane explain the uglier details. Lloyd jumped in to describe their surroundings in the open hallways and several rooms that had been explored as well, including some of the more eccentric details. Skylor, having evidently taken on the role of unofficial scribe out of sheer boredom with her current situation, reached for a notepad and started scribbling away, asking questions ever so often.

"You know what I think is going on here?" Jay said, after a beat. "We crossed dimensions walking through the forest and now we're in a horror video game. That's what happened."

"Jay."

"Listen, I'm right," Jay declared, with far more confidence than he had any right to have. "Think about it. Everything's too quirky. Too conveniently inconvenient."

"Jay, I swear to Lloyd's grandfather I will hurt you." The effect of Cole's words were mostly nullified by the fact that he was shaking his head in his hands. (And for the record, it was still weird when people swore on his grandfather.)

"Explain," Skylor said, openly giggling at the absurdity, and Zane looked as confused as he did amused.

Ahh, good ol' Zane.

Still, the fact that Jay was joking around when there were people missing rubbed him the wrong way.

"I'm serious! We just so happen to be stuck in here because the doors won't open, and they can't be busted down, and the windows are barred! Have you ever heard a more video-game thing in your life?"

"Splendid situational analysis skills right there, Jay," Cole responded drily. "A+. What do you propose we do to solve this?"

But then again … Cole had been tensed up and radiating apprehension, the entire time they were searching, to the point where it had started to make Lloyd nervous, too. He looked like he was beginning to lighten up again, as he poked at Jay's ridiculousness.

"Whoa, hey, I didn't ask for leader talk! Just saying. Not to mention, that ugly ghost clown respawns when you kill it. That's some next-level malarkey right there."

"D-don't call it that," Skylor gasped in between laughs. Evidently the pain meds had kicked in.

"And why not, huh? Are you trying to tell me it doesn't look like a clown and the Overlord had a really ugly baby?"

"Goodness," Zane remarked.

"Jay, do you ever think before you open your mouth?" Cole groaned, exasperated chuckles slipping out despite his best efforts. "Ever?"

"It's a personal point of pride to improv anything and everything I say," Jay said matter-of-factly. "Come on, you know this."

"This is why you're not group leader."

And since when was Lloyd the one to growl at any sign of fun when things were rough? He'd seen the way Jay's face had dropped when Cole announced that Kai and Karlof were still missing, and according to Zane he'd fought it before. If he was goofing off, it wasn't for lack of understanding the gravity — it was in spite of it.

So he'd bite. He'd pick back up the pieces of the child left over from when he'd been too small for the green gi, and play along. When they went back out to search, it'd be easier to keep his morale up if he let loose a little now.

They needed this.

"You know, Jay does have a point," he chimed in now. When everyone's attention turned to him, he grinned and clarified, "About the video game thing. Also the things in here are so … weird, they might as well be props. Like the clocks! What would anyone do with that many clocks?"

"And it does seem odd that there would be so many weapons on display …" Zane murmured under his breath.

"Yeah, exactly!"

Jay beamed. "Finally, someone sees it my way! I would bet my hand that this is all because of that dumb discount survivor Kai got at the shady store across from Doomsday Comix. I knew there was something weird about it. You should never trust a shady discount game."

"Hey, Kai got that game for you, because he was sick of you bellyaching about the Temple being haunted!" Cole replied. "Think an awful lot of me, doncha? Won't even take the former ghost's word that there's no ghosts in there."

"Uh, like I'd take your word for anything! Why don't you take this?" Jay threw a pillow at Cole's shoulder, much to their shock. They held their breath and waited for their reaction … and Cole worked his jaw for a second, then promptly picked up the pillow and nailed Jay in the face with it.

"Whoa, hey!" Lloyd cried. They paused and looked at him again.

"... We don't have nearly enough pillows for this."

Jay only blinked for a split second before grinning, balling up his blanket and whacking Cole with that instead.

Skylor doubled over laughing.

Absolute mayhem ruled for all of five minutes. Zane had been unwittingly dragged into the pillow/blanket fight that had evolved, and Lloyd figured if everyone else bar the one person who couldn't was doing it, he was definitely throwing himself into the ring. It only lasted up to Cole and Zane ganging up on him and wrapping him into a blanket burrito until he was screaming uncle. Even if she couldn't participate, Skylor was absolutely living for the chaos; she was practically munching on popcorn, tossing stray bedding into the fray (from a safe distance) for the rest of them to pounce on.

When they eventually settled down and sobered up, the air settling down on their shoulders again wasn't as oppressive. The soft afterglow lingering after they'd laughed some of their stress out made everyone feel a little more like they would be okay in the end, like they could go out and search again and they'd find everything they needed to — Kai, Karlof, and a way to escape this awful place and put it behind them for good.

But for right now …

"So. What's next?" Cole fluffed a pillow and set it back on the bed he'd grabbed it from.

"We should go back out and keep looking," Lloyd stated, grabbing a blanket off the floor and pointedly folding it in an apologetic-looking Zane's direction. Cole snorted — Zane might've felt a liiiiittle guilty about teaming up on Lloyd and accidentally knocking Jay down with a pillow, but he'd enjoyed every bit of that fight, and Lloyd knew it and he knew they both knew it.

"So soon?" Skylor asked. "You were gone for a while. Maybe you should take a break or something first …"

"Yeah!" Jay agreed, putting away his own blanket. "You were walking in secret passages and stuff! Aren't you tired? I know I'd be."

"If we do go out again, we should switch out who remains here with Skylor to prevent that," Zane said.

"Not 'if'," Lloyd said. "It's dangerous out there, and didn't you say Kai was injured? Karlof doesn't have any idea what he's up against if he bumps into it, either. Not to mention, we haven't even seen a trace of Shade around longer we wait, the worse our chances of finding them are. I say we keep looking a little longer."

Cole grimaced. He understood Lloyd's impatience, of course. He was worried, they all were, and nothing about their current situation looked good. And every second they spent trapped put him painfully in mind of another haunted building that had preyed on their fears and ended in nothing but trouble …

But the green ninja's insistence on searching until they found their missing was beginning to look near-obsessive. And while he hadn't said a word about being tired, his group had been on the move almost constantly since before they'd even arrived at the mansion. He'd fought for his life once already, and the building's magic was persistently weakening them. He had to be tired. Cole knew he was.

For the kid's sake, Cole hoped again that they were alright. If they weren't …

He shut the train of thought down before it could set itself off. He could do without losing his composure like that again, particularly now that he wasn't as isolated.

"Ech. I was actually thinking we have lunch or something first. It's been a while since any of us ate."

"Lunch …?"

Ohhh First Spinjitzu Master he could not be serious.

"Yes, Lloyd," he said dryly, "sometimes human beings need to eat food. You know, to survive and stuff."

"I know that!" Lloyd exclaimed. "But how do you know that it's lunch time, specifically?"

Cole paused to consider it. Usually, his appetite was the subject of a fair few jokes, but here he was using it as a surprisingly reliable indicator of when they should eat, sharpened with fatigue as it was. Because he was absolutely basing this off of his appetite.

A crinkle broke the quiet. Heads turned to see nothing else but Jay, teeth already sunk into a granola bar and blinking up at them.

"What?"

Cole sighed, rummaging through his backpack and frowning when it took a minute to find him anything worth eating. He unwrapped a sandwich as he said his next words.

"First trail mix at unholy hours of the morning, now this. If you're going to keep snacking precisely when it's not time to eat, you can't turn around and wonder why you're never hungry. I mean, not to suggest there's ever a bad time to eat, but you know what I mean."

"But I'm not hungry enough to eat a full meal!" Jay protested. "Any more than this and … I dunno. Don't feel up to it. And aren't you a fine one to talk?"

"But he has a point," Zane said, concerned. "Your appetite is usually larger than this. Does your stomach still hurt?"

"Nah," Jay said dismissively, though he polished off the bar and didn't make a move to eat anything else. "I'm just not that hungry. Besides, I'll just save it for later."

Cole opened his mouth to tell him to eat at least a little more, anyway, but the last thing he'd said made him think.

Because when he considered it …

"We're starting to run low on food, aren't we?"

"Now that you mention it, I guess we are," Lloyd said, surrendering to the fact that they were eating now and pulling out some food. He didn't immediately eat it, though. "And we can't go get more, can we?"

"I have extra food in my bag," Zane offered, looking a little meek. "... The truth is, I kept storing food and snacks in it for missions and never remembered to take them out. It might not be all that much, but perhaps it could help us last a little longer."

"Hoarder."

"Hey, it's saving our hides now, isn't it?" Lloyd elbowed Jay. "Be nice."

"But I'm afraid it won't last us forever …"

"Right. We gotta think long-run," Cole said. "We have backup food, but there's …" He took a moment to count. "Five of us. Seven including the missing two. And none of us are running on full strength. This stuff's gonna go fast. If Zane's stash runs out, we've got no way to get more from outside, plus there's no way anything in here would be edible."

"Blegh." Jay made a face. "Can you imagine what it'd be like? The mold probably has mold growing on it. No thank you."

"Thank you, Jay, you're really doing wonders for my appetite." Skylor groaned.

"You're very welcome."

"Keep it to yourself," Cole said. "Just because you're not hungry doesn't mean you have to make sure everyone else isn't."

Jay harrumphed at him but didn't say anything else.

"We need to ration, don't we?" Lloyd said.

"I don't like that," Jay said. "That implies we're staying here."

"... Not that I like the idea," Cole hated it, in fact. "But again, we might have to start thinking long-term. Hopefully, Kai and Karlof aren't far, but who knows how long it'll actually take to find them. And that's not even taking into account how we'll find a way to escape …"

"Okay, you've made your point," Jay moaned. Cole followed his gaze to Lloyd, who was eating his honey sandwich with dark eyes, and sighed, feeling another twinge of worry.

"Well, this doesn't bode well for me," Skylor commented. "I didn't think we'd get holed up this long."

"Is this about food? How much do you have?" Zane asked.

"Mm? Only about enough for a day and a half, plus snacks. And that's being generous," she admitted sheepishly. "I've only got a little more left."

"It's alright," Cole replied. "None of us were really expecting it. You can just … mooch off of Zane?"

"Well, geez." Skylor raised an eyebrow. It was pretty funny, paired with the sunglasses. "When you put it that way."

"Don't worry," Zane reassured her. "Feel free to take what you need."

"Pft. Alright," Skylor said at last. "Thanks."

"Glad we got that set straight, but what're we gonna do about water?" Lloyd brought up. "My bottle's nearly empty."

"He has a point," Zane said. "Having food is essential, but we cannot afford to dehydrate, either."

"Man, Nya'd be nice to have around for that," Cole sighed. "... But it's probably a good thing she's not here."

"It's been well over a day and we still haven't contacted her."

"Maybe longer, even," Jay sighed glumly. His eyes flickered with worry for a second. "You … don't think she'd come looking for us, do you?"

"Don't sound so hopeful, Jay," Cole warned him. "There's no way it'd end well if she did."

"It was bad enough when I ran into it," Lloyd added. "If it stumbled into her before we did …"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Jay whimpered. "Forget I said anything."

"But do we need a water master for that?" Skylor cut in. "We could try to melt ice and make do that way."

"PIXAL has the same idea. But that would be most efficiently done with a controlled heat source such as Kai's fire, and Kai isn't with us right now," Zane said. Lloyd's face darkened.

"I know, but once we find him. Because we are going to," she said pointedly.

"I suppose I could just set some ice near the fireplace and let it melt, even though it would still be slow," Zane said. "Until we find Kai, of course."

"Right," Lloyd answered before Cole or Jay could say anything. "We will." But the room felt tenser again, more quietly charged than it had before.

How much longer they could keep that conviction up remained to be seen.

#that is where they wait #tiwtw #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fanfic #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago zane #zane julien #ninjago karlof #ninjago skylor #skylor chen

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