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animatedjen · 2 months

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Cal slipped.

Rock shattered under his foot and skittered down towards the treeline below. His knee and face took most of the impact, crimped handholds biting against his fingers. On his back, BD readjusted his grip with a whir of concern. Twice he’d told Cal this idea was stupid, both times after Cal fell into loose shale while approaching the wall. After that the droid hunkered down and kept his opinions to himself, if only to prevent throwing Cal off balance.

“It’s okay buddy,” Cal grunted the assurance as he looked for new footing. He tasted dirt and maybe blood, his arms were completely spent, and yet somehow it was the best Cal had felt in weeks. He shifted his hips lower and let his weight settle over his left foot, then inched his right up the wall to another toehold. Not great, but it should be enough.

He'd first found the crag while exploring with Mosey. “This path would take us all the way round Raider territory ‘cept for that bluff in the way,” she explained, steering her nekko away from the large outcropping. Cal remembered looking it over, instinctually tracing a line up through the various shapes and grooves in the basalt rock face. A project for another time, after they found Tanalorr.

Now halfway up the cliff, Cal can’t think about hidden planets or fallen friends or a looming Empire. All he can do is inch sideways and slot his hand into a nearby crevice, adjusting until the meat of his palm is wedged firmly into the gap. The next hand follows, then he finds his feet. Instinctually Cal matched his breath to each movement, a soft inhale followed by a deep hiss of an exhale. It’s a form of meditation that he’s never truly found while on the ground.

At the temple he climbed everything. The other younglings in his creche turned it into a game, pointing out interesting walls or columns that could potentially offer a challenge. Wynne once dared Cal to climb to the top of the Archive without touching the floor, and he made it over the railing and onto the second story bookshelves before a bewildered librarian sounded the alarm. His punishment was to dust those same bookshelves, which was wildly boring aside from the ever-present audience: Cal made sure every passing Jedi knew why an eight year old padawan had been assigned cleaning duty. Master Catrine called him a tree-goat and it became Cal’s nickname for the rest of the year.

Learning more of the Force only improved his physicality. Master Tapal had taken one look at his tiny human padawan, bouncing around the halls of the Albedo Brave, and immediately added aerobatics to the training regiment. “You won’t be able to overpower your opponent,” he would say while Cal learned to dash across walls and flip higher into the air. “Use your size and speed to maneuver through your surroundings, adapting to the environment and using it to your advantage.”

Years later, Cal scaled the hull of a half-scrapped Star Destroyer faster than anyone on his shift. The rusting, jagged pieces of metal were nothing like Venator-class training halls or the trees in the Temple meditation gardens. These ships were covered in tragedy, rotted by war and the incessant Bracca rain. He learned to climb with rigging gear, climb with too many pounds of scrapper kit, climb with gnawing emptiness in his stomach and torch burns across his knuckles. The Force was no longer an aid, only a dull, haunted reminder of his past. But years of training were etched too deep into his muscles to be completely forgotten, and the Guild valued those skills enough to employ a destitute liability of a child.

Above, two relters cut across the late afternoon sky, their shadows racing each other along the rockface. Cal tucked his knee against a well-placed indent and ground his foot into the wall until each side felt secure. The kneebar in place, he released his hands with a sigh, shaking out tension and letting the breeze wick away sweat. Guilt gnawed at Cal’s consciousness– he should be at the saloon with the others, helping pack supplies for their next trip through the abyss. The Raiders would likely be wiped out by the Empire anyway, and that’s a problem that no new climbing line can fix.

The Force hummed softly. Cal continued to the end of the fissure, finding another rest point just off to the side. He pressed a hand against a flat portion of the wall, testing its integrity.

“Ready BD?” he called. One beep later, a metal spike launched over Cal’s shoulder to his waiting hand. It would’ve been easier to rewire the entire Mantis than convince BD to swap out his stim canisters for pitons, but Cal didn’t want to risk losing any of his hardware mid-climb. He lined up the spike and let the Force gather around it, then with a Push drove it into the wall. The impact echoed across the treeline below with a satisfying boom.

That was the last piton, BD trilled as Cal added a carabiner. Leaning back, he checked the dangling rope below, tracing it through the previously embedded spikes. Everything’s holding. He checked in with his body. Everything’s hurting. Great. A stim would’ve been nice right about now.

The rope was threaded up and through the final anchor as Cal scouted the last section of the ascent: two sloping holds and a column that juts up over the top of the cliff. He moved his hands to each sloper, mantling up and to the side until there was enough space for his heel to meet his hand. Both hands shifted to the left sloper, and his other foot met them there. Slowly, achingly, he rotated upwards.

BD launched from Cal’s back with a whoop, his thruster carrying him just high enough to disappear over the cliff’s edge. Immediately the whirr of his scanner filled the quiet evening air. Cal laughed despite his weariness, reaching up to grab an edge on the column. Another reach, another foothold, and he had made it. Scrubby grass poked out from gaps in the basalt while thick clouds silhouetted the distant rock formations in pink and gold. In the valley between them lay Rambler’s Reach, just barely outlined in the sunset.

Everyone Cal loved was in that tiny speck of a settlement. Everyone else was gone. He sunk to the ground, keenly aware of each complaining muscle as he wiped the dust off his face. BD finished scanning and joined him at the ledge.

“What a view, huh BD,” Cal said quietly. Together they watched the rest of the sky fade to dusk.

–

One relter ride later, Cal was collecting leftover gear at the base of the cliff when nekkos trotted up from the ravine. Mosey emerged first, a lantern swinging from her pack. To Cal’s surprise, Merrin was following her.

“We thought that was you,” Merrin said, dropping from the nekko to greet BD. He immediately asked if she brought stims. “Toa and Zee set up a telescope on the roof of Pyloon’s. We wanted to see what was drilling into the mountains. Thankfully, just a Jedi.”

“Shoot, you really sent that.” Mosey was staring wide-eyed at the rock face, the rope carving a thin brown line to the top of the outcropping. “Incredible. I knew you were good in a fight Cal, but this is something else.”

“With the anchors in place, you should be able to add additional aid,” Cal said. “Make it as easy to climb as possible.” He imagined Turgle dangling from a rope ladder while somehow completely wrapped in another rope ladder. “With some help,” he added.

“This could be huge.” Mosey examined the approach, kicking shale and other loose rocks to form a potential new path. “What’s the backside look like?”

“Not sure, there wasn’t enough light by the time I got up there. But–” Cal glanced over to Merrin, weighing her expression. “We could probably get a rappel system set up, if we stayed on Koboh a little longer.”

Merrin tilted her head. “You said we should establish the Sanctuary as soon as possible,” she said. “Staying on Koboh would delay that.”

“That’s right." The gnawing guilt crept back to his mind, and immediately he wished he was back on the wall again, which only increased the guilt.

“But,” Merrin cut into his thoughts. “Our goal is to help those who need it. That includes the people here.” She looked up at the cliff, now a shadow against the emerging stars. “I think a new pathway away from Raiders and Empire could be very helpful, and would give Greez time to finish packing the saloon. He’s collected too many trinkets these last few years.”

The dust was back in Cal’s eyes again. “Would that work for you, Mosey?”

Mosey grinned. “Sure does. It might even be fun.”

#not my usual contribution to the fandom but wanted to try something different!#and any excuse to shove rock climbing into my creative hobbies because it's my other favorite hobby #star wars jedi survivor #jedi survivor #cal kestis #bd 1 #mosey cimmaron #merrin #nightsister merrin #jen writes jedi stuff

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ineffabildaddy · 4 months

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i really loved this poem by @ineffable-rohese and so i wrote a quick response!!!

crowley pov, explicit content incoming

“Blasphemy’s always been your remit, hasn’t it, my dear?”

Oh, but it hasn’t, really.

Not as such. Not when the velvet-soft strokes of your palms and the clement caresses of your fingers deem me worthy; not when the sweetest of nothings, tumbling clumsily from your lips, pronounce me sacred; not when your belly and your knees and your heat press urgently into the scales crawling my skin and crown me holy.

I am never intertwined so tightly with the Almighty than when your teeth sink into the tenderest corners of my flesh, never so divinely known than when your tongue seeks the quivering crest of my dripping cock or the sanctified slick of my aching cunt. My mouth is your mouth, my skin is your skin, my sweat is your sweat. We are one with each other in the same way that, much as I am perpetually bound to claim the contrary, we are one with God.

You allow the tickle of your breath to raise goosebumps behind my ear as you bury your nose in my hair, and this is a purer act of worship than any kneeling gesture. You inhale the scent that lingers for you in the crook that marries my arm and my shoulder, you revel in the beckoning aroma that lives between my spreading thighs; in return, my body sings as if a joyous choir with little need for practice and still less need for an audience.

I have not forgotten that I am unforgivable. And yet, when we commune beneath the stars or between your bookshelves, I am truly at peace with what I am. After all, I know something that eludes Hell, something that Heaven will never begin to comprehend: the treasured secrets of your body, the true, animalistic nature of our divine communion. The irrepressibly human quality that blesses every patient kiss, every curious touch, every virtuous fuck.

I give to you as a saint gives all he has to the needy, as a lamb gives her life to the sacrificial stone, and I take you as a church collects a tithe, as a monk gathers the peas he has grown in his monastery garden. You do the same for me, always righteous, always guiltless, always free of doubt and question. In this, we are eternal.

The last time you came for me, you gasped a breathless ‘amen’.

If you hadn’t been spilling, gracious and reverent, into the house of prayer you had made of my mouth, I would’ve said it with you.

also on ao3 here:

tags incoming for those who may enjoy, hello @sad-chaos-goblin @foolishlovers @bowtiepastabitch @sabotage-on-mercury @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @crowleyholmes @greenthena @tangerine-ginger @iammyownproblematicfave @captainblou @and-his-hands-were-24-crows @createserenity

#good omens #poetry #kinda not really but oh well #ineffabildaddy

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chaoticgeminate · 1 year

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Rainy Days

Pairing: Mr. Ben (SNL Skit) x f!Reader Rating: E (Thar be smut ahead) Word Count: 7.2k

Potential Warnings/Notes: Reader is coded to be between below average to average height and plus size, no other descriptors were used.

Summary: Your soul mark was a rain cloud shaped tattoo on your inner left wrist, hollow with little stars and mushrooms inside the cloud and small raindrops dotted down your arm turned into a little pool right before the bend of your elbow. By now there were plenty of self-proclaimed ‘experts’ who said you would meet your soulmate on a rainy night, that each raindrop was a day you would be near them but never actually talk to them.

Your soul mark was a rain cloud shaped tattoo on your inner left wrist, hollow with little stars and mushrooms inside the cloud and small raindrops dotted down your arm turned into a little pool right before the bend of your elbow. By now there were plenty of self-proclaimed ‘experts’ who said you would meet your soulmate on a rainy night, that each raindrop was a day you would be near them but never actually talk to them.

Those ‘experts’ basically told you what you already knew and tried to charge you money for it, the mushrooms were a bit of a throw -you did have to give one guy creative credit when he said there’d be a fungi fueled apocalypse and that you’d meet your soulmate after it happened- but ultimately it wasn’t actual help.

All your friends around your home town had been quick to drag you out on nights it rained because of your mark, to bars or the movies or whatever public space they could think of, places where you would see or encounter people. They would try to get you to wear short sleeve and sleeveless shirts under your jacket for the chance that your match would notice, and while you were happy they were so invested in your happiness it was exhausting.

Moving away from your home city had been a bid for freedom in more ways than one, no longer under pressure to meet your person and no longer the only unmatched person in the group, the new acquaintances you had made through your new office were very much more your speed in regards to your marks and soulmate meetings in general. Escaping the corporate rat race for a private tech firm had been the best move you made, even if you’d end up fulfilling your duties on site at whatever contract location you had been assigned to and not around your other tech associates.

The general philosophy was: When you met them was when you met them, rushing to find them was only going to lead to unnecessary disappointment.

Which was why you were currently spending today’s rainy evening in a secluded bookshop with a lovely ambiance, the smell of paper and the soft sound of pages turning paired with the soft lighting gave it a magical feel. It was one of the only 24/7 bookstores you ever heard of, the owner Kathleen and her partner Louise were one of the cutest soulmate pairs you had met. You felt safe and warm, cozy as the pavement outside shimmered from the glow of the streetlights, and more importantly alone.

You were finally given an assignment at work so you’d promised to keep in touch with Bryn and the others at the office despite your assignment and then decided you needed some time alone.

Currently hidden in the corner of the shelves well out of sight, scouring the spines to track down the book on a research topic -the key differences between bacteria, fungi, and viruses- which you knew they had, you realized belatedly it was on the shelves above you and exhaled before grabbing one of the stools that were kept folded between the wooden bookshelves for people that were gravitationally challenged like you were.

Anyone that called you short could get stuffed.

Plus, the book wasn’t exactly on like a higher shelf near the middle, it was up there, and your exhale of irritation was soft as you scaled the stool to peruse the upper shelves. Humming in victory when you managed to find it, pulling the stout volume from between its neighbors and placing it into the tote style shopping bag over your shoulder, and when you tucked the stool away you began to meander to look for something to read for fun too.

There was someone at the register, all you could see was their broad back, the blue dress shirt was pulled pretty tightly and tapered into a fairly narrow waist; a cute little butt in black slacks and the brown belt to match his leather shoes, but you averted your eyes quickly when Louise caught you looking. Hurrying to hide behind the shelves because there was no way in hell you could come out of hiding until he was gone now, no doubt Louise had tattled since he loved to meddle.

Finding two fiction novels, one high fantasy and the other sci-fi, you decided that you had spent enough time and that he should be gone after what felt like ages. The door had opened and closed a few times, all you needed to do was get your books and go home. Rounding the corner with far more confidence than you felt you very nearly stopped dead in your tracks, the man was sitting in the reading area with his book open, and now you could see the cute patchy beard peppered with grays just like his dark curls.

He was fucking hot.

You hated that his eyes shot up to the sound of your books falling out of your hands, thankfully he hadn’t caught you staring because the second you fumbled the books you’d already diverted your attention -mostly- to try and catch them. Overwhelmed by the humiliation risk, since you were used to being surrounded by people on nights like this not easy to be singled out, your eyes began to water slightly.

“Hey are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Those massive hands of his held all of your chosen books so easily in one of them, his brown eyes were soulful and soft, and his lower lip had the cutest little divot that you wanted to kiss.

“Oh, uh, ‘m just awkward and clumsy. Kind of, a uh, volatile combination for things like this.” Your awkward laugh tacked onto the end faded, taking your books from him as you both stood up, and you imagined that this was when he excused himself to get away from you. Instead of walking away from you he steadied your elbows and smiled, it made the hair on your arms stand up and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I think you just need to get lost in a good book, let me buy you a tea since it’s still raining out there. I’m Benjamin Morales, but everyone just calls me Ben.”

You relented and sat with him at his table after introducing yourself and giving him your drink order, staring at the book he had open on the table with a soft smile. Constellations and Cosmos was a book you had a copy of on your shelf at home, a sort of ‘dummy’s guide to the universe’ style book, and you realized he had tests sitting on the table.

“You’re a teacher?”

“Yeah, I work at St. Lawrence High School, it’s hard sometimes but the kids are good even if they use a lot of lingo that I don’t always understand.”

He laughed when you nodded, your nieces and nephews did that and it was a struggle to keep up, you at least could ask them to translate it into “Millennial” for you though.

“I told my nieces and nephews to make an official translation guide, that they’d get rich really quickly off of it.”

“They would! That’s a genius idea, I’d buy the first copy.”

Both of you shared a laugh and you couldn’t help but glance at his arms, the long sleeve shirt hid what you were looking for unfortunately and there was no way you were going to ask him to roll his sleeves up. But you felt a very… intense feeling about him; like he was magnetic to a degree that was almost distracting.

“So, St. Lawrence? I, uh, start there in two days. Not as a teacher but, like, I’ll be a part of the tech team. PR, internet security, that sort of thing.”

“That’s excellent, they want me to do a seminar on appropriate use of devices and I could use someone to help me figure it out.”

You couldn’t stop the way your brows furrowed at his clear discomfort.

“You mean like not using the school wi-fi or computers to try and access porn or download potential viruses and malware?”

He hummed and grabbed his phone, pulling something up, and you blinked at the sudden shiny video of him on TikTok. You hated that you memorized the creator’s name, it wasn’t fair to him, but the video was honestly pretty decent for it being mashed up clips of moments when he was in class.

“Yes, but also these. They’ve been making thousands of these fancam videos, they’re everywhere! So, basically, the school wants to blanket ban all of it, they’re making a rule not to film the staff since they’ve just added more camera coverage to the entire building.”

“You can report the existing fancams to TikTok, that you’re in them without your consent, they’ll get taken down.”

He looked at you like you’d hung the moon.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll all just stop making them but I can help you at least try and clean up how many there are.”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“Of course, Ben, let me help you.”

Spending time over tea reporting fancams of a cute teacher you’d be working with soon wasn’t what you imagined happening tonight but you wouldn’t complain, not when you had great company and a guy that you thought was genuinely sweet. Someone who, even if he wasn’t your soulmate, you could be happy with if he was single too.

“Did you hear?! Everyone saw Mr. Ben and Ms. Jenny out together at the mall, there’s no way they aren’t soulmates.”

It was inescapable, inevitable even, hearing it day in and day out.

“I heard Mr. Ben and Ms. Jenny are planning on getting married and having a honeymoon in Columbia.”

Rumors in a high school were very normal but recently these had been getting on your nerves, it wasn’t even the students’ fault or anyone’s really, just your own brain being dumb and making up things that clearly weren’t there. Ben had greeted you happily when you’d reported for your first day, going around and introducing yourself to the rest of the staff since your first order of business was to match faces to names as best you could.

Ben had given up reorganizing his classroom to follow you around and help you feel welcome with the other teachers, including the aforementioned Ms. Jenny, and you’d been forced to watch him tease the other woman about the posters on her walls that she’d been forced to put up over the fancam thing. As you’d expected the student body had been a mess after the first day seminar where the new rule against recording staff was announced, which meant that instead of making fancams they were now just doing what kids always did and playing the year-long telephone game.

Two weeks into the year and already you’d heard that the two were secretly married, getting married, or dating along with where they planned to go for their honeymoon. Honestly you wanted to ask them if they were paying for some of these events because traveling to all of these places on a teacher’s salary? In this economy? Absolutely not.

Kieran snorted softly beside you, the pair of you were walking around getting photos to put up on the school website for the “welcome back” article, his eyes on the pack of girls that had just disappeared into the girls room and delivered the latest rumor for the rumor mill of Mr. Ben and Ms. Jenny.

“What?” His eyes rolled skyward before he stopped to snap a photo of the main office, the bullet proof glass windows that still allowed the secretaries to look out were new along with the mechanical locks, but you understood the reasoning. All of the classrooms had tighter security features in this day and age, it was… depressing.

“I can’t believe we used to act this way too, kids are definitely creative.” He snapped a photo of the closed door of the Earth Sciences classroom, angling his body enough to get Luis and his students in the frame.

“What the rumors? I mean, Ben and Jenny do flirt a lot.” As you lifted your own camera, crouching just a bit to get a better shot of Jiho pulling her whisk out of the bowl and just the top of the student’s heads, you could hear Kieran stifle another soft laugh.

“You and I flirt a lot too, don’t mean we’re a thing.” He had a point and you rolled your shoulders in a shrug, snapping your photo right as Jiho turned her whisk to showcase the shine of the glossy batter as it ribboned off the utensil. Kieran went to go upstairs next, pointing to Ben’s open door, and you felt your face warm as the man walked right past it so you’d have to get the picture inside. Ben was animated as ever with his lectures and you crouched lower and snapped a few photos to get a good angle of the students taking notes.

Most of them were staring at him dreamily so you had tried to hide as much of that as you could, all it would take was one parent not liking the way the image looked and trying to report him for something stupid, it was why you went out of your way to keep faces out of your shots.

When your shoe squeaked loudly while you were getting up you were greeted by a surprised Ben who sheepishly closed his classroom door, it was a rule that some of the teachers struggled with still, and Kieran puckered his lips and made kissy faces at you when you rejoined him. Your nose wrinkled and you shoved him lightly, earning another laugh, before the two of you got back to work.

The cameras were always on and always being monitored now, after all, and while you were both on the cyber side of the security team the trained security officers hired to monitor the cameras weren’t afraid to be pricks whenever they felt like it.

“That’s why you don’t like it, you have a crush. You should tell him, the actual chances of meeting your soulmate are really low odds.”

Kieran glanced at your arm again, he’d seen your soul mark already, and you knew that he had a point; his soulmate was passed already, his tattoo nothing more than scar tissue now, and he’d spent a long-time turning people down because he’d wanted to meet the one.

“Well, I would need to know if he at least likes me back enough to give me a chance, it doesn’t help that he flirts with Jenny all the time.” You took pictures of the banners and posters about the school’s updated security measures, and hated that you were so twisted up over this. You should just do the adult thing, you knew, and invite him out somewhere. You were a modern woman and more than capable of asking a man out on a date, but something told you that Ben was… he’d be all encompassing.

The magnetic feeling you got when you were around him told you enough, that he’d be impossible to let go of, you were afraid of when affection would become love; that it would change you into someone possessive and toxic because you would never want to have a reason to walk away. You saw it in your family plenty of times, aunts and uncles turning aggressively jealous, your own parents were a brand of toxic that left a sour note in your life and you were terrified you’d inherited that behavior.

Dating and marrying outside of your soulmate was difficult, because what were you supposed to do if your someone met The One other than be happy for them?

Kieran patted your back gently and followed you down the next hall, changing the conversation for your sake.

“You going to the football game tonight?”

Ben’s voice interrupted your quiet, the school webpage backend code currently up on your monitor as you worked to change up a few of the links for the newsletter page, everyone else was already gone since the first football game of the season was a big deal here. Ben was leaning on the door way with his coat on already, signifying he was headed out, and you shrugged in response. You had almost gone to invite him yourself when you’d spotted him and Jenny talking about saving each other a seat on the bleachers, choosing to just walk away instead of look like an idiot when it was obvious that was a date plan.

“I don’t really know, probably not, reliving my own marching band days isn’t really something I’m keen on doing.” You hadn’t meant to confess that much but just outright saying no felt like a coward move, a chair was pulled out beside yours and Ben sat down with an amused look on his face that made your own face warm up.

“Marching band? You? Wait let me guess, you played… tuba?”

“Nope.”

Your keys clacked away as you modified the first of five links, pasting in the paragraph of text you’d written to go with the new link.

“Trumpet?”

“Nah-uh.”

He hummed loudly, contemplating, and you nearly choked when he took your right hand to look at it carefully. Running his fingertips over your skin softly, inspecting your palm like it told all your secrets.

“Saxophone?”

“Strike three, Ben, you’re out.”

If he caught the airiness in your tone he didn’t make a notice of it, you were almost breathless from the way he was still just gliding his fingertips along your skin. When he brushed the sleeve of your cardigan, near your soul mark, you flinched slightly and it was enough for him to let go. He must’ve seen the very top curve of the cloud on your skin, his lips parting to ask, and you pulled your arm away to finish up what you were doing.

“I played clarinet, saxophone wasn’t so far off.”

Ben huffed softly at your very obvious intent to avoid talking about what he’d gotten a peek of but he indulged this time.

“That means you’re good with your hands, huh?” He smirked and you knew he meant that double entendre, making your entire body ignite under the way his dark eyes met yours. It was intense and you felt like the oxygen in the room had thinned out or something, but as you finished and saved the new data for the website you glanced at him again.

You got up and smirked, grabbing you jacket and bag, before reaching out and ruffling his curls gently.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Ben’s face erupted into a flush and he didn’t follow you out, too busy gaping at your back, a thrill of victory rippled through you for being the one to fluster him this time. Especially with his date with Jenny soon, the fact that he even flirted with you while planning a date actually made you wonder if she knew that he was doing this behind her back. As you got into your car you made a snap decision to show up to the game, if only to tell Jenny that Ben was flirting behind her back.

It wasn’t actually cheating, you hadn’t kissed him or anything, but you didn’t know if you were the first or if she might consider flirting as cheating. You tossed together a quick light meal, it was nostalgic as hell but you kind of wanted a concession stand dinner, and picked a warmer outfit for the weather. September wasn’t too chilly at night but you didn’t want to wear a heavy jacket, it would be more comfortable to just layer up.

The bleachers were packed with parents and teachers already, the football team was stretching and getting ready as the other school’s marching band got ready for the opening field show, and you spotted Kieran and Jackie waving at you. Striding up to where they were sitting, plopping down beside Jackie, you ignored the way she leaned into her soulmate Anna’s side and pointed out two of the players as students that had tried to buy their way onto the front of the school newsletter.

“Surprised you came out, didn’t think you liked high school football.”

“I was a marching band kid, lots of memories.”

As the other team started playing, a marching band adaptation of movie soundtrack hits with their choreography being something relating to the corresponding movie, you couldn’t help but feel wistful for a minute. A smile settled on your face, just being out here in the crisp September air again, smelling concession stand hot chocolate and hot dogs, brought you back to your teen years.

“Oh? Any good memories?”

Kieran looked genuinely curious and you hummed lightly.

“Well, we did competition marching band, so I got to attend statewide contests; I hated trying to get changed on the bus, we had to wear long johns under our clothes so that we could stay warm and not end up showing too much. But I think the best memory was getting a first kiss under the bleachers from my crush, a cheerleader, but it didn’t work out obviously; she found her soulmate during Festival Disney in our Junior year. I avoided dating, after that, because I just… I got scared of the idea that I’d fall hard and then they’d meet their person.”

“Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. I was that person who found my soulmate while I was with someone else. We’re sort of friends, it’s a hard situation.” Anna offered a pained smile at their confession, making you nod, and you could tell Jackie felt guilty and imagined it was because the ex was either in the area or worked at the school as a teacher.

“That why you’re afraid to fess up to Ben?” Jackie leaned on her hand and you huffed softly.

“Yea, that and I’m pretty sure Jenny wouldn’t like me poaching her boyfriend.”

Anna’s eyes widened but before she could say anything you heard your name, spotting Ben and Jenny waving along with a few other teachers following them up.

“You made it, excellent, feels good to be back right?” Ben’s sunny smile looked somehow more vibrant under the intense lighting, this early in the year it wasn’t too dark yet but it would be soon, and you hated that Kieran had to nudge you to snap you out of your little trance. Nodding frantically, to avoid looking like an idiot, it was all you could do to not leave when Jenny sat down and Ben claimed the seat beside her.

Larry, Micah, Luis, and Jiho sat somewhere around you so that the staff was mostly together; parents began piling in as the school marching band walked under the bleachers to get to their seats on the other side, and the announcers began to get things rolling. One of Anna’s senior sopranos performed the National Anthem, leading to thunderous applause, and you let yourself sink into the game rather than focusing on the fact that Ben could turn his head to look at you at any time.

Passing out praise to the band members for their halftime show, while heading to the stand to get yourself a hot chocolate and something to eat, you felt the hand slide into yours and blinked as Ben stepped up beside you.

“Sorry, didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.” His hand was warm in yours, your heartbeat starting to thunder slightly, and you noticed the way several students whipped their heads around to look at the two of you.

“How’re you going to do this when our hands are full?”

“Actually, before we go back I was hoping I could talk to you, privately?” When you nodded he led you away from the stand, just off the side but mostly out of sight by anyone since there was freezer truck for the extra food. You felt that stirring in your heart, being alone like this, and hoped you didn’t look like you were going to pass out.

“So, uh, what’s up Ben?”

He squared his shoulders and squeezed your hand, looking a little lost, before finally he seemed to just work up all the nerves he had.

“I really, really, like you and was hoping that maybe since this can’t be a first date you’d let me take you out? The bookshop café is pretty nice?”

He was asking you out, on a date, while he was… on a date? You weren’t used to getting things about people like him wrong, he’d seemed so genuinely kind, it was almost a slap in the face if you had to be honest with yourself.

“Your girlfriend won’t mind? I’m not a unicorn that’s willing to do a three way.”

That had to be it, he and Jenny wanted a third so they’d decided to try and convince you to be that person, you’d been baited on dating apps hundreds of times by a possible night out with someone only to find out there was a partner involved. Ben’s shocked face, entirely confused, was almost believable.

“Girlfriend? What are you talking about, I’m single.”

“So you didn’t invite Jenny to the game on a date, promising to save her a seat like the dutiful boyfriend you are? I hear the kids talk, Ben, you’re always with her even though you flirt with me and it’s really not cool. I don’t want to be the butt of a joke, okay? I won’t tell anyone about this I just-“

“Jenny isn’t my girlfriend.” His voice dropped into a low pitch, there was frustration on his face but not aimed at you -how you could tell you didn’t know, you just could- and Ben sighed so loudly that you almost expected students to show up with cameras any second. The fancams hadn’t stopped but they had slowed down, especially with you and Ben reporting them whenever you came across any, you’d been in a couple of them too.

Feeling vulnerable, defensive, you crossed your arms and waited for his explanation.

“I’m serious, her soulmate Breanna couldn’t make it tonight since she works til midnight, Jenny is my best friend but there’s nothing romantic between us. I’ve been with her asking advice to try and ask you out, actually, because you never- sometimes you flirt back but then you’ll ice me out.”

He looked just as vulnerable as you felt, grabbing his phone and showing you Jenny’s social media with Breanna and even letting you see their text history, it was literally him asking about advice on flowers and if he should get a restaurant reservation or just wing it.

“Ben-“

“I know it’s hard to date someone that isn’t your soulmate but can we try? Please?”

Before you could chicken out you were ripping off your flannel, ignoring his ‘hey woah’ as you rolled up the sleeve of your undershirt, and showed him the very obvious mark.

“Can’t you see, Ben? This isn’t a cute little soul mark that I can throw make up on and hide, this will always be here staring at me and you, other people couldn’t do it before and I’m so tired of being hurt. This mark always reminded people that someone else was out there-“

“Me. I’m right here.”

His four words stopped your tirade entirely as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, his matching mark staring back at you, making your entire body ignite like fireworks were going off under your skin. You felt the tears forming in your eyes, disbelief and relief and excitement, and Ben reached up to wipe them away; you couldn’t help but touch his mark, skating your fingers along the black lines, and his breath caught slightly at the contact. He tipped his head down toward yours and you closed the gap, gripping the jersey he’d worn tightly to hold him still as his arms wound around your body and pulled you closer.

You would have continued, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you, if it weren’t for the throat clearing of a senior staff member who had come out to get more stuff from the cold truck. Ramon, the librarian, rolled his eyes and pointed to the parking lot.

“Hurry up, nobody noticed yet, before you two end up with even more fancams showing up on TokTok or whatever it is.”

Hiding your face in Ben’s chest, his own giggles above you making you laugh too, it was easy to grab your flannel and head for the parking lot. Now that the fuse had been lit you couldn’t stop it, wanting his hands on you this very second. Ben pressed you against your car, shamelessly caging you against the driver’s side door and you let him, one leg hiking up to pull him closer and his hands grabbing your ass to make you grind against him.

“Gonna- gonna have to stop before I fuck you against your car, sweetheart.”

“Yours or mine?”

His groan as you began mouthing at the long line of his neck made you double your efforts to find all his soft spots and Ben’s hand kneaded your ass in retaliation.

“My apartment isn’t soundproofed but I don’t care-“

“Mine, not ready to give your neighbors an audio show just yet. My house is pretty set back from the road and I have distance from the neighbors.”

Ben captured your mouth again and you felt the tears on his cheeks when you moved your hands to hold his face.

“I’m so happy that we found each other, sweetheart.”

“Me too, Ben, me too.”

He pulled away to get his car, entirely reluctant on both of your parts, but you knew the rumors would start if you had to bring him back on a Saturday to pick the vehicle up. Call it selfish but you wanted a little more time without the entire student body knowing about you and Ben, even if the truth would eventually get out. The drive to your place felt long, with you constantly checking the rearview to make sure Ben was still there, and as you pulled into your driveway the garage door opened and you parked on the left side like always.

Ben hesitated but pulled into the right when you pointed, the door closing behind his car, and he whistled when he shut and locked the car door.

“Fancy.”

“Former fortune five-hundred IT slave, more like, this was bought with my severance pay.” It had been a relief to get out and move to the smaller tech company, being contracted to work at the school was a bonus, and you had played it smart with your check to make sure you could cover yourself when needed. House bought out in full, car bought in cash, and a good chunk still left for home emergencies if they popped up.

Ben’s smile was fond, even with the heat burning in his eyes, and he cupped your cheeks to kiss you again.

“Should I apologize that my teacher’s salary is shit?”

“No, I know you teach because you’re passionate about it. That is far sexier to me than you making a lot of money.”

Ben chuckled and you led him out of the garage, giving him a tour of your place first, and you had to bite your lip because he recognized every art print on your walls and had given details about them that you didn’t know. It was so damn attractive how passionate he was about things and by the time you made it to your bedroom the stolen chaste kisses, the light touches, and the way he whispered facts about your art in your ear had you ready to get on your knees for this man.

“I didn’t know you knew that much about classic art, Ben.”

“Thought about being an art teacher, took classes about Art History in college, but I changed my mind and went for science instead.”

He hesitated in the doorway to your bedroom and cleared his throat gently.

“If you want me to stop, at any time, tell me. I mean it, if you aren’t enthusiastic or you just don’t feel it that won’t chase me off. I just want to learn more about you and be with you.” If you’d had any reservations before they were gone, you sat down on your bed and dropped the flannel to the floor without a care for where it landed.

“I am enthusiastically consenting to you getting naked and fucking me into this mattress, Ben.”

His eyes raked across your form, he’d left his leather jacket downstairs on the coat stand so he pulled his jersey over his head and tossed it aside leaving him in the white undershirt and his jeans. Stilling your grab for your placket and kissing you before getting down on his knees between your spread legs, pulling your socks off first and nuzzling the denim hugging your legs as his hands caressed the outside of your thighs and moved inward.

“Take your shirt off for me, sweetheart, slowly.”

Ben’s voice was liquid honey and you grabbed the back of your shirt collar, tugging at the back of the fabric and moving a little slower than usual so that your skin and bra were the show he wanted. The sound of his throaty groan made you feel sexy, even with the extra rolls you had that you often poked at in the mirror on your bad days, Ben surged up so fast that his knees cracked but neither of you paid it any mind as his legs pushed your thighs open so he could kiss you and his hand fumbled with the shirt trapping your arms.

The fabric hit the floor after a moment of struggling, his mouth never leaving yours, and he cupped the curve of your breasts in his hands before his thumbs swirled over your nipples and you arched into him. Ben let out a soft sound as your hands went right to his hair, sliding back to grab at his shirt, and he let you pull the white fabric off him fully. You were distracted by the sight of your shared soul mark on his skin, capturing his arm to kiss the mark, and his eyes fluttered closed before he let himself just press you into the mattress.

The weight of him over you, the feeling of the slight swell to his soft tummy, the way the curve of his nose felt against yours and his lips skating along your skin made gooseflesh erupt along your skin. You were leaking with how bad you wanted him, you could feel how wet you were, and every nerve ending felt like it was alive with sensation as he breathed you in.

“I want to do this slow; I really do, sweetheart.”

“You can have me any way you want me, Ben.”

He whimpered, whimpered, at your reply before dragging his mouth down your body; down your neck and across your collar bones, cataloguing every single spot that made you writhe for him, and when he mouthed at your nipples under the fabric of your bra your back arched into his mouth and your hips pressed into his body as his hands held your waist.

“Ben- fuck!”

Having his teeth pinch lightly through the fabric, the sharp sensation soothed by the wet of his tongue as he dampened the fabric, you couldn’t control the way your hips jumped or your mouth. You weren’t above begging for what you wanted, the fact that this was your soulmate only compounded the sensations, the desire to just be as close to him as physically possible was overwhelming to a near painful degree.

“Please- please Ben I need-“

“Tell me, sweetheart, tell me what you need.”

“I’m- I’m so wet, Ben, please I need you to make me come.”

His groan was musical and his hands tugged your jeans down your legs, spotting the way the fabric of your underwear was so messy that the crease of your thighs and the insides of your thighs were slick with your desire.

“Sweetheart.” Incredulous and awestruck, the word was a throaty rasp as he dragged his finger along the fabric covering you, and when you whimpered his name Ben pulled the fabric down your legs and pressed one finger against your entrance.

“I’ve got two condoms in my wallet, I’m clean though and I have my physical from last week on my phone, it’s been a while since I’ve dated.”

“Clean too, it’s been a while for me, I’m on birth control so you don’t have to use the condoms if you don’t want to.”

He stared at you, as if he were debating, and you had to admit you were surprised that he did in fact grab one of his condoms. When he caught your eyes following his hands as he emptied his pockets onto your night table, phone and keys joining his wallet, Ben winked and waved the condom with a hum.

“Statistically speaking the percentage is an almost guarantee that I won’t get you pregnant, but I’m not going to risk it. If you want, we can discuss a vasectomy for me sometime until we know for sure what the future looks like, if you wanted to go off birth control I mean.”

Him standing there, offering to get a vasectomy, holding a condom in his hand with your soul mark branded on his skin was probably the hottest thing you’d ever had happen in your life.

“Put that condom on and fuck me, Ben.”

Watching the way his eyes widened before he nodded, not looking away as you took your bra off, Ben grabbed a towel from your master bathroom when you went to get settled on the bed fully before he was stripping off his pants and boxer briefs in one go. You both had wanted to go slow but the sight of him, hard and leaking, made you practically gush; he had even grabbed you a damn towel and that consideration had you reaching for him as soon as the condom was on.

Ben smiled fondly but it melted to a look of bliss when he leaned down to kiss you and you grabbed a handful of his cute little butt to grind against him, dragging the length of him through your wetness, his mouth parting against yours before he shifted his knees just slightly and rocked against you with the intent for friction. You moaned when he brushed your clit, his body pressing tighter to drag along that spot, and Ben angled your face into the kiss while you lifted your legs to angle your hips.

“Feel so fucking good like this, sweetheart I’m not going to last-“

“Me either, please Ben don’t make me wait.”

It was slow, the way he pressed into you, the thickness of him was a burning stretch but you wanted it.

“Next time I’m going to make you come on my fingers, on my tongue, at least twice before I fill you up; gotta- gotta make sure it feels good for you.”

“It does- Ben it does feel good.”

He pressed his forehead against your shoulder as his hips slotted to yours, bending his knees and pushing your legs wider, and you stared up at him as he pulled himself upright to watch where he filled you with each thrust. Holding your arms in a backward hold so both of you could see your matched soul mark on the other’s skin.

The drag of him, the heft of him gliding against you with each in and out motion was drawing small gasps and sharp whines out of you as he whispered your name like a damn prayer; like he couldn’t get enough, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Ben dropped down to get closer to you, thrusts becoming a harsh grind of his hips as he kissed you deep, and the way his body was rubbing against your clit with each motion had you beginning to feel yourself fall.

“Ben-Ben~”

Your cry of his name was cut off into a loud moan as you came, hard, around him; the velvet clutch of your body trying to keep him inside of you as he worked you through your orgasm, his motions become a sharp humping motion.

“Fill me up Ben.”

He cried out your name loudly, it was so sexy to hear him the raspy call of your name as his hips stuttered, and you both just laid there for a moment breathing; the weight of him was comforting, the feel of his mouth against your neck made you turn your head, and he captured you mouth in a lazy kiss. You let him roll you over, so you were on top of him, and he nuzzled your forearm where your soul mark pulsed like a heartbeat.

The hooded eyes and natural pout of his lips made you lean down to kiss him, earning a soft smile, and you nuzzled your nose to his gently.

“Now will you say yes to a date?”

“I’ll say yes to all of the dates, Ben, if it’s you.”

His smile was soft, shy, and tender as he cupped your cheek and hummed.

“Even if its dorky science dates or museum days?”

“Absolutely. As long as you don’t mind botanical gardens and nature walks, or classes on things like pottery and cooking.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you that I’m a teacher but I’m a very attentive student.”

The tone absolutely implied his mind went elsewhere but you didn’t care, smirking fondly at his own raunchy smile, and you traced the shell of his ear with one of your fingers.

“I’ll have to make sure I help you study, got some things you don’t know yet that’ll be on the quiz.”

He laughed, and you laughed too, at the cheesy remarks.

“I think we should not do that, at least not until I retire, I cannot pop a boner in class because someone says quiz.”

He was still inside of you, still holding you close after just making you have an earth shattering orgasm, and now you two were cracking jokes. He was perfect for you.

“Well, we can’t have that at all. Just means we’ll have to come up with other sexy innuendos.”

“Or I can just tell you that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve met and that I’ve had a crush since the bookshop.”

“I too started crushing on you at the bookshop.”

“I know, Louise told me you were staring at my butt.”

“It’s a cute butt.”

He rolled you to your side, on the towel still, so he could pull out to get cleaned up and you watched his back with a smile. Wolf whistling and earning a fondly exasperated look over his shoulder, your arm held in a way that let him see the mark so clearly on your skin, and Ben returned after cleaning himself and you up to pull you against him under the covers.

“Can I stay the weekend?”

“Not going to grab clothes?”

“Will I need them?”

“No, not really.”

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii

#ben morales x f!reader #mr. ben snl x f!reader #snl sketch fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #chaoticwrites #cw smut #minors dni

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

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Could you please write something where a civilian is the hero’s (who is a kid/teen hero) schools librarian or teacher. Who is looking out for them and helping with planning and tactic of fighting the villain. But along the way civilian and villain start falling for one another to the annoyance and reluctant support of the little hero. And perhaps villain taking it easy on fights not wanting to put civilian or the little hero in danger. Please and thank you! Love your writing!

"Just a moment!" Civilian called at the library door's signature screeeech. They'd already talked to the school board several times about ungumming the hinges or replacing the doors or something, but as usual, the library wasn't top of the list for school funds. But of course, the football team was definitely cleared to go to Disneyland if they won State next month because that was an important experience for 25 students it benefitted.

Civilian did their best not to slam the books down as they finished unloading their book cart, but they couldn't help if a few of the bigger volumes made a louder thud than the rest. Calm. Caaaalm. They couldn't afford to scare away a potential reader; the library was empty enough as it was. If it declined anymore they wouldn't be allowed to make any more book orders, and admittedly, those were largely personal.

Civilian forced a cheery voice as they popped out from around the bookshelf. "Alright, how can I help--"

A pair of slitted, bottle-green eyes flashed up from the little pith helmeted bobblehead wobbling on the edge of Civilian's desk. At the sight of Civilian, a strange grin--almost a snarl--curled the corners of their mouth, revealing one large fang that poked unnaturally thick and long over their bottom lip. Not a student. Not a teacher. A stranger. No, if only they were that. Civilian may have never met Villain in person before, but that didn't mean they couldn't recognize them. There were really only so many fiamora running around.

"Well, well," they purred silkily, stalking closer, shoulders rolled forward like the predator they were. "Who would have thought. Hero's beloved mentor a defenseless little librarian?"

Civilian should have made a run for one of the doors. Maybe the one on the left side leading into the parking lot. They should have banked on Villain's unfamiliarity and their own experience with the room. Instead, they did what most prey do under panic: they backed deeper into their hole.

"Oh, don't run away," Villain cooed as Civilian retreated amongst the bookshelves.

Civilian ducked out of one aisle and into another and then another. If they knew anything about fiamora, and they liked to flatter themself that they did, they couldn't stay in one spot for too long. Or repeat the same movement too many times. The creatures had premonitory abilities, especially acute when hunting, and anything stagnant or in a rhythm was clear to their mind's eye. Unfortunately, there was only so much you could do in an endless line of shelves.

"You're just running in circles," Villain said from the next aisle over.

Civilian's heart rose into their throat, clogging their airway with the heaviness of their pulse. Maybe-- Maybe if they climbed one of the shelves? That was different. Right? They started scaling anyway.

"I have to say, I admire your work. But I'm a little disappointed today. Maybe your tactics aren't so great under pressure. Or maybe you don't know how to apply them to yourself. Is that why you rely on the wits of a teenager?"

Villain pounced around the corner.

Civilian jumped, losing their balance on the third shelf and falling back against the bookshelf behind them with a frantic flap of their arms. Several fantasy novels thunked to the floor.

Villain roared with laughter then dropped the remains of their chuckles into a low throaty hum. The tufted end of their tail skimmed over the book spines as they prowled closer.

Civilian attempted to scramble to their feet, but too late. Villain’s clawed hands slammed down on the shelf to either side of them. Trapped.

"You know, I really wasn't expecting you," Villain mused. "All those tactics and plans. I thought for sure you were some sort of mage or at the very least, a retired hero. So where did you get all that knowledge?"

"Books mostly," Civilian said. It was meant to sound wry, but with the walls of their throat constricted around their heartbeat, it came out squeaky. They cleared their throat. "How did you find me?"

Villain's tail wrapped around Civilian's ankle. "The kid's smart, but they're not exactly infallible. Five different routes to this school after our fights? It threw me off for a while, but what are 8 months in the grand scheme of things?"

Stupid. Civilian was so stupid. They had told Hero to change up the routes to get here, but the kid couldn't make up more than what was available. They should have started meeting in other locations as well. This had always just been such a convenient location it never occurred to them... They'd thought themself so intelligent like one of the adventurous scholars in their books. But they really were just an inexperienced nobody who'd barely stepped out of their hometown. If they died it was their own fault. They just hoped someone other than Hero found them.

They looked up helplessly into Villain's eyes. That color wasn't common in humans, and it was much brighter in a living host than the formaldehyde-soaked samples shown to them in lectures.

"Are you going to kill me?" They heard themself say, slightly mesmerized.

"Oh, I don't know," Villain grinned, bending in closer. "I doubt Hero would be much fun without you. But then again, they have been an irritating thorn in my side. Maybe I should end it here."

The overhead lights glinted off their saber tooth. Only one. That was strange. Had they lost one? But the one they did have was so small. Maybe they'd lost both and the left was growing back in faster. Or perhaps Civilian's theories on the fiamora's age had been wrong.

“Um, is that new?” They didn't know why they said it. They were about to be torn apart, and they were wondering about their would-be murderer's fangs?

The slits in Villain's eye blew out a little. They cocked their head. “Huh?”

“The saber tooth," Civilian clarified. "There’s only one, but quite a few fiamora lines are genetically prone to one starter tooth growing in late, and this one only just curls over your lip so, that makes me think it may be your first one?”

What were they doing?

Villain pulled back a little, all traces of mischief vanished from their expression. “So you think the second one will still come in?”

“How long since the first one came in?” Civilian asked. They just couldn't help themself.

“A couple months.”

“Worry after 6 months. It's still within the bounds of initial maturity."

Villain sat back on their heels with a sigh. Their tail still wrapped around Civilian's leg, and the end now subconciously brushed the inside of their calf.

"Thank the ancients. You have no idea how worried I was, and with no one to talk about it, I never thought it might be genetic."

Civilian nodded knowingly. "Right, fiamora don't live in packs and your mothers leave before your teeth come in. I can imagine that sort of solitary living would be hard when you have questions. Well, actually, I never thought about it until now. It never occurred to me that you might want to talk to another of your kind. The books always made it sound like you wanted to be alone. That's my mistake."

Villain stared at them. Civilian flinched. They had started talking to them like some sort of specimen. What was wrong with them? They were definitely going to die now. Change the subject! Change the subject!

"You know, Hero never really described you, so I worried we were dealing with some sort of ancient." Civilian chuckled lamely. Something strange was happening to them. An edge that didn't come from a fear of dying. "What a relief."

"The tyke never described you much either," Villain said, closing in again. "Safety reasons I'm sure."

That saber tooth was so fascinating. How sharp was the point? The books said they tore into flesh like butter, but did that come with bite force or innate sharpness? Maybe...maybe they could touch it.

They stopped their hand inches away. Were they concussed or something? Sticky warmth gathered on the back of their head where they hit the bookshelf, so maybe. In any case, they were being weird!

Villain stared at their extended hand for a moment then plopped their cheek into their palm. A violent shiver ran up Civilian's arm.

"I...er...I wasn't..."

"You like fiamoras?" Villain said, eyes looking up at them intensly.

Civilian swallowed. "Yes. I have a degree in other worldly creatures, but, um, I wrote my thesis on fiamoras, so... Yes."

"Lucky you. I like bespectacled humans who read lots of books."

"Oh," was all Civilian could think to say as the villain leaned in closer. Their breath tickled warm against their cheek.

"Your head is bleeding," Villain said, thumbing the sticky part of Civilian's head.

"I'll put a bandage on it later," Civilian said, unable to take their eyes off the villain's looming face.

Villain's nose brushed against their temple as they brought their mouth to the hollow of their ear. "Your Hero is coming."

"That's fine." How could anything have such beautiful eyes? The more Civilian looked into them, the less real they seemed. More like something out of a dream. They could stare at them all-- "Hold on, what did you say?"

"What the--" Hero stood at the end of the aisle with their hands thrown over their face, body doubled over as if in excruciating pain. "Agh! My eyes! What are you even doing?"

"Hero!" Civilian cried. "This isn't-- Nothing is-- They came to kill me!"

"I think I'm going to throw up," Hero gagged.

"I'm serious! This is a murder situation!"

Villain's tail loosed from Civilian's ankle, and they brushed off the knees of their trousers as they straightened up.

"It was nice meeting you, Civilian. Let's do it again. But maybe next time somewhere more private?" They turned away from Civilian's burning face and toward Hero. "See you around, kiddie."

They shot the teenager a wink as they passed by, and the shriek of the door announced their leave.

***

"I wasn't going to kiss them," Civilian deadpanned, gathering up the stray novels into their arms.

"Your lips were like this!" Hero said, pinching their thumbs and forefingers together and holding them just shy of touching.

"I was looking at their saber tooth. That's it. I've never seen a fiamora so close up before. I was curious."

"Oh yeah, I bet you were curious about that tooth. Curious how it'd feel in your mouth."

"Hero!"

"What?" Hero cried defensively. "I'm just saying!"

"It's disrespectful and distasteful and you're too young to talk about it anyway."

"Too young to talk about kissing?"

"Too young to talk to me about my dating life. Nothing happened. It was...it was a typical hero/villain hostage situation. Like in the movies. I'm glad you walked in on it."

Hero raised their eyebrows at them, unconvinced, but instead of saying anything, they began picking up books too.

The air conditioning hummed in the stretched silence as they read labels and re-alphabetized each row, but Civilian's face still felt hot.

They had to be grateful it was Hero and not another student who had seen them in that situation. The library had enough issues without adding 'promiscuous librarian' to it. How would they have explained to the board that it was actually a villain making an attempt on their life--because that was exactly what it was--, not a visiting lover and that they’d tracked them down because they were secretly helping the city's hero with battle planning in their off-hours? Even if they believed them, it still meant they'd potentially put students in danger. They would have been fired for sure.

They pressed their palm to their forehead. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

"It'd punch a hole through your lip," Hero said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"The tooth. If you kissed, it would totally tear through your lip, or your cheek, or your gums. I've kissed people before, and it's basic mechanics."

"And you think I haven't?" Civilian cried. What did the kid take them for? "Obviously, I would kiss around it!" They froze, a furious blush warming their neck and ears. "N-not that I would ever kiss Villain in the first place. That would be...morally compromising. Probably."

Hero narrowed their eyes. "Should I be worried about you joining the dark side out of fatuous love?"

"No!" Where did the kid even learn terms like that? Maybe Civilian needed to dumb down their conversations a little. "Even if I were to for whatever reason date Villain, which I'm not, it would never change my position on what's good and bad. I could never ever turn my back on you."

Hero sighed. "Alright, I trust you. If you promise you'll still be on my side, I guess you have my permission to make out with my nemesis."

Civilian smacked Hero upside the head with a paperback. "That's enough of that. Do your homework."

Part Two

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denimbex1986 · 7 months

Text

Everyone gets lost in Cillian Murphy’s eyes. At the end of his latest film, “Oppenheimer,” in which he plays the titular character, Oppenheimer stands alone, staring at the pattern of rain droplets over a still pond. As the camera lingers on his face, a ring of fire begins to consume the Earth, and an immense blaze fills the whole scene. Not a sound is uttered, but the emotion conveyed in those piercing blue eyes speaks louder than words.

Murphy’s eyes that speak surely bring the character of Oppenheimer to life, even in the black and white parts of the film. “I try not to think of actors as I write, but Cillian’s eyes were the only eyes I know that can project that intensity,” Nolan said to the New York Times. This is their sixth collaboration, but the first time Murphy has played the lead. With “Oppenheimer” surpassing $900 million at the global box office — becoming one of the most acclaimed biopics to date — audiences have become as eager to learn about it’s as they are about the father of the atomic bomb.

Even though it took Hollywood a while to recognize Murphy’s potential to play a starring role, this quietly intense actor has long been celebrated in the UK and Ireland. A survey of his portfolio since his debut in 1996 reveals a daring selection of characters: Jackson Ripper, a terrorist leader in “Red Eye;” Fischer, the heir to a multi-billion empire in “Inception;” Daniel O’Donovan, an Irish republican in “The Wind That Shakes the Barley;” an anonymous, shivering soldier in “Dunkirk.” None of these names carry the same fame as the legendary physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer on screen today, but Murphy honored them all.

In order to get ready for the part of Patrick “Kitten” Barden, Murphy spent weeks working with a real-life drag queen, who took him clubbing with friends so he could study women’s body language and learn how to dress. To be able to convincingly act out Tommy Shelby, a WWI veteran, he followed a hard-hitting workout plan to look “physically imposing” for the part. The quest to achieve Oppenheimer’s chiseled cheeks and a haunted look took him to the opposite end of the spectrum. According to costar Emily Blunt, on set he would only eat one almond a day to slim down and was so immersed in the role that he skipped cast dinners. According to Murphy, “It’s not the scale, it’s the quality.” For him, great dedication is necessary in order to fully embody his characters.

Clearly, his hard work has paid off. Murphy is now the 5/4 favorite to win Best Actor at the 2024 Oscars for his performance in “Oppenheimer,” as predicted by The Online Betting Guide, and his last role as Tommy Shelby in “Peaky Blinders” earned him his first BAFTA TV Awards nomination for Leading Actor. Prior to this, he also received a Golden Globe Award nomination for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy for his role as a transgender woman in “Breakfast on Pluto.”

Yet Murphy did not always know he wanted to be an actor, and it took him a long time to discover his life-long passion. His father was a civil servant and his mother a French teacher, but the house was always busy — non-stop music, bookshelves filled with literature, and the radio often on. His parents sent him to an all-boys private school, where he was involved in rugby for some time before giving it up. Then, he tried for a law degree at University College Cork, but he quit that too. He devoted years to doing what his parents wished for, not necessarily what he wanted, and “he didn’t feel good enough.” After that, he had a fleeting music career before a stage production of “A Clockwork Orange” guided him to his true passion — acting.

His first breakthrough came in the 2002 movie “28 Days Later,” where he played Jim, the lone survivor of a pandemic in a desolate London. It was a modern horror classic which served as a launching pad for Murphy’s career, with Nolan later recalling the poster of Murphy with his bald head and “crazy” eyes in a conversation for Entertainment Weekly. His profile continued to grow in 2005 following his roles in several successful films, namely the Scarecrow in “The Dark Knight” and the villain in the action thriller “Red Eye.” For the last two decades, he has built strong relationships with directors such as Boyle and Nolan and continuously wowed audiences with his talent for playing dark, troubled, and tormented characters. But these complex characters are not strictly villains. As Murphy said in an interview with The Guardian, “Villains are good if they’re well written, but if it’s one note or a trope, then they are dull.” He relishes playing these complex characters and likes scripts to stretch into “all the shades” of the human spectrum.

“I can’t remember which director said it, but he said it takes 30 years to make a good actor,” he said to PORT Magazine. 27 years later, coming off the heels of a starring role in a major film, Murphy appears to have achieved his aim.

In an industry that often rewards fast success, Cillian Murphy has chosen a different path. “Peaky Blinders” made the Irish actor a household name, and Nolan’s blockbuster epic took him even further. However, Murphy continued to pursue roles which were often underrated, because it is “a film that you're very sort of proud of and excited by.” Known for his introverted personality, Murphy has chosen a quiet, normal life away from the public eye, even revealing at one point that he did not enjoy the “personality part” of being an actor. “I don’t understand why it’s expected I’ll be scintillating on a talkshow,” he said in an interview with The Guardian. He is true to his word — Murphy’s bored face during interviews has become a popular meme. Indeed, 67 million people on TikTok have watched videos on “Cillian Murphy interview zoning out,” and they can’t seem to get enough of his dissociating clips. Part of his appeal to fans seems to stem from this authenticity, in contrast with so many other celebrities who aim to please.

To Murphy, character is in fact all that matters. Murphy is satisfied with being the man in the shadows, and though he may not be as flashy as Tommy Shelby with “that charisma and swagger,” he believes that this shows that “I’m doing my job” correctly. “Cillian and Tommy are almost polar opposites,” Steven Knight, the “Peaky Blinders” creator, attested in an interview with Esquire.

As recounted in the Esquire interview, when Murphy auditioned for the role, Knight doubted whether this very thin man was the right fit for a Bringham-based gangster. Murphy said a simple yet powerful thing then: “Remember, I’m an actor.” His point was that when he enters a room, he is not Tommy Shelby. But when he is acting, he can become anyone — a gangster, a woman, or a physicist.

What is so mesmerizing about Murphy’s eyes? It is not the color, but the complex, varied emotion that is seen in each glimpse. Murphy can draw people into a story and make them think twice about it afterwards. While he has worked for close to thirty years in the acting industry, making him one of the most prolific actors, neither the standard film crew hierarchy nor his fame will keep him from choosing what truly captivates him. His success is a natural result of his unwavering pursuit and love of the craft.'

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adallegra · 5 months

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Wren has found shelter under a desk in the library, miraculously managing to avoid the watchful eyes of Madam Scribner. Her small bunny brain somehow convinced her that she can perhaps manoeuvre her way into one of the bookshelves and find a way to undo the the charm herself.

Can bunnies even cast wandless magic?

Before Wren realises she has gone mad, her ears pointed forward when footsteps slowly approach the desk, slowing just beside the wooden leg attached to the piece of the furniture where she’s concealed.

Those shoes! She knows those shoes, caked with mud from the hours of jogging, from anywhere!

Her little noses twitches, detecting a familiar scent. Wren in a moment of desperation, scales a leg of the desk, her paws clinging to the surface and bound towards you till her fluffy head bombards your view.

“ALLEGRAAA!” Wren tries to say, yet all that comes out of her tiny bunny lips are some weak, high pitched squeak.

Allegra had woken up later than usual and had to decide between breakfast or her daily jog. It was a matter of which would set her in a better mood, so of course, she chose the brisk morning air and its reminder of freedom.

She gave herself just enough time for a quick bath before realising she had left her copy of Advanced Rune Translation in the library. As she dashes up the stairs and through the corridors, she prays that Madam Scribner would be lurking behind a bookshelf instead of her desk. With five minutes left before class, Allegra did not even have time to change her boots -- she can already hear the shrill shrieks of the librarian should she be caught muddying her floors.

Stopping at the desk she was sitting at the evening before, she shuffles through the stack of leftover books. Just then a movement catches her eye, and she hears the chirp. Allegra’s eyes round as she holds back what would have been a loud “AWW”.

What is with adorable animals suddenly appearing? Is this some sort of norm for Hogwarts? Her mind drifts to the previous fluffy creature that turned out, regretfully, to be someone she would rather not have showered with kisses. Looking down at the bunny’s pleading eyes, Allegra tilts her head in thought.

She scoops up the ball of fluff and grabs her textbook from the desk with her other hand, resisting the urge to nuzzle her nose into its soft fur. Allegra’s not making the same mistake again… just in case.

“I hope you’re ready to sit through double Ancient Runes,” she whispers into the bunny’s twitching ears as she makes her way back out of the library. “Before I can help figure out if you’re human anyway.”

#allegra answers #wren #hl rp

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lordoftherazzles · 1 year

Text

Spicy Box: Multiple Partners Based on: Dragonhearted

It’s a different kind of twist on the idea of “multiple partners”, but in a way that suits the things I like to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, I know I had a blast writing this. And special thanks to @reshirement for hyping me through this one and being just amazing!!

18+ Explicit Sexual Content ❤️‍🔥 (Read at your own risk)

I’m not sure how many I’ll finish, but I wanted to participate in a few of these Sweet and Spicy Bingo prompts with some of my favorite universes!

The life that Thorin led meant a variety of things, both before and after Smaug’s curse took hold. It meant that solitude outside of his formerly dwarven company was absolute, and that as a royal, it meant that his life would be full of luxury. Never did he have to bend his knee to anyone else as a Prince of Erebor, and especially now as the King of The Lonely Mountain.

And yet here and now, both things were being proven wrong, though it wasn’t just one knee he bent for another, but two, of his own volition.

In fact, the dwarf-gone-dragon was currently resting with his knees to the ground, as well as his palms. His claws were scoring lines into the stone beneath them through a partially torn rug that had once housed a few cups of cocoa, some books, and a hobbit for whom Thorin had grown very fond of over these past several weeks. Enamored was probably a better word for it, as Thorin wasn’t likely to bend himself like this for just anyone–only someone his heart called to.

He was attracted to Bilbo like a dragon was attracted to gold, and something about that analogy should have been alarming, or at least made him snort in amusement, but instead, here was Thorin with his head down, practically into the stone itself with his backside up like a feline stretching in the sunlight.

The fact that he purred was an added bonus, and one that his beloved guest behind him seemed to enjoy.

“If you purr any louder, the mountain might shake.”

Bilbo’s voice was low and sultry as he teased, causing Thorin’s entire spine to shiver as sparks rolled up and down it. As if to playfully spite the hobbit, Thorin’s chest rumbles only intensified in volume.

“Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?”

What had started out as a simple reading date, just as they did almost daily around a hobbit’s tea time, ended with some unexpected erotica found on the bookshelves wedged between endless knowledge and children’s fables. An idea had been planted, one thing had led to another, and now here was Bilbo firmly planted inside the dragon of the mountain, again, and again, and again.

Tossing a small glance over his shoulder, catching sight of Bilbo through heavily lidded eyes and blown out pupils, that dark scaled tail gave a small lash in delight at what he saw. Bilbo in that fine yellow waistcoat of his and a perfectly tied mint shade cravat at his neck, blushing heavily from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. But what really caught the dragon’s attention was that concentrated tongue poking out of those plush hobbit lips, hiding the majority of each grunt and groan that came with each thrust that Bilbo put forward.

Thorin on the other hand, was anything but quiet. If he so much as tried to bite his tongue or the insides of his cheeks, pain was usually found afterward, and there was too much enjoyment as Bilbo’s cock continued to brush right across his prostate. It was almost perfect. When that perfect thrust did finally hit, Thorin’s tail straightened stiff for a moment, and a loud whine left his mouth before that tail draped over Bilbo’s shoulder like a scaly sash. The fact that such scales or otherworldly features didn’t seem to bother Bilbo only caused Thorin’s heart to swell even more.

“Are you alright, love?”

A low moan escaped Thorin at the words, dropping his head again and finding his voice even if the words were broken up by sighs and gasps as the hobbit’s slow and sensual thrusts of patience. “I am more than alright, Kurdûn,” Thorin purred, another grunt leaving his mouth as his fingers flexed and the faint sound of claws scoring stone practically echoed in his ears. “Uthurukul(harder),” he slurred with his eyes fluttering closed and his head slumping against one of his outstretched arms.

“I beg your pardon?”

Though the location of Bilbo’s voice was not where it should be, yet the feeling of being fucked so tenderly had never ceased, and it spurred Thorin’s eyes into opening as a set of hands clutched at his jaw to lift his head up. That same yellow waistcoat, those same glittering hazel eyes he adored, but now in front of him and staring him in the face while cradling his jaw. “Bilbo?”

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, Your Majesty,” and the mischief in Bilbo’s voice gave Thorin another shiver of delight. “It’s been a long time since you’ve relaxed properly, hasn’t it?”

By Bilbo’s guidance, Thorin’s head bobbed a bit as a gasp was caught in his throat with a particularly hard thrust into his backside. “Bilbo…” He moaned, the name rolling across his tongue so smoothly as if he was meant to say that one word alone for the rest of his days.

“Yes, beloved?”

Yet another word to cause Thorin’s spine to tingle and his mouth to stretch wide into a grin of both pride and genuine happiness. Though in all of this, he didn’t have half a mind to ask about how it was possible to have Bilbo thrusting behind him, and cradling his head at the same time. Perhaps hobbits had some trickery about them and that there was more to them than meets the eye. Magic wasn’t foreign in these lands, and Thorin’s current hybrid state was proof of that. Besides, the idea of having two things he loved? It made him moan again. “More.”

“You want more? I would hate to displease you, Thorin.”

A set of thumbs pressed to Thorin’s mouth as he sighed, taking advantage of that open mouth and mapping just where those sharper fangs of the dragon’s rested.

“Close,” Bilbo ordered, resting his thumbs across Thorin’s tongue.

Obedient as ever, Thorin did as he was told, finding the taste of Bilbo to be something addictive. There was something sweet about him, not only in his heart, but across his skin. It almost reminded him what honey tasted like, though it had been a long time since that particular ingredient had graced the mountain. A few seconds of savoring that honey-like taste, and Thorin’s jaw began to naturally clamp harder, and his eyes fluttered again, at least until Bilbo’s hands carefully pulled away.

“No biting.”

“Sorry.” Thorin felt like a pup being tutted, but as a hand came back and scrubbed through his beard lovingly, any negative feelings had been whisked away as quickly as they came. “Let me make it up to you? I promise I can be gentle.” Running his tongue across his fangs before dropping his eyes to Bilbo’s cock. Reddened, oozing with pre-come, and enticing Thorin even further as his eyes flickered up waiting for a response.

“Well, you did ask for more, but let’s just see if you can keep up with me, Thorin Oakenshield.”

As Bilbo eased forward, Thorin waited patiently, being mindful of his mouth as Bilbo’s cock soon rested on his tongue. That honey-like flavor was more abundant now than on a few thumbs, and it sent Thorin purring once more, closing his mouth gently and peering up at Bilbo for approval through his lashes as his tongue went to work. The wicked smile Bilbo bore was a warning sign, and one that Thorin couldn’t prepare for as he felt his tail being adjusted, but still draped over Bilbo’s shoulder and the speed of those thrusts picked up in speed, while the thrusts from the front just got started.

“Such a beautiful dwarf, you are,” Bilbo murmured as his hands continued to caress through Thorin’s beard with thumbs rubbing across the scales that decorated his cheeks. Thorin loved the attention, almost as much as he adored the sweet words. From love and talk of beauty, he hardly felt like a monstrous creature while sitting here on his hands and knees while being spoiled so thoroughly. “Beautiful and all mine.”

Bilbo’s hands had slid from his beard, which kept Thorin’s attention as he continued to take the thrusting from both directions, bobbing his head and minding his mouth with fingers gripping into his hair and giving a few tugs. Groaning around Bilbo’s cock as his own began to twitch in a steadily building agony, that groan turned to a whine, and from there everything accelerated once more.

This hobbit was merciless. The thrusts were relentless, and a grip in Thorin’s hair had changed to a grip to the horns on his head, tight and fierce at the base with a few curls caught in the mix as Bilbo’s sounds were no longer concealed by a concentrated look, and Thorin’s could only grow louder even with their lack of coherency. Whatever energy he had, Bilbo seemed to double, if not triple, it. It was like trying to keep up with an energetic rabbit for Mahal’s sake. After a few moments of Bilbo falling from pretty eloquent words to simply groaning out Thorin’s name, the dwarf-gone-dragon found himself constantly whining, his tail beginning to lash and slide away from one Bilbo’s shoulder while he stared at the one in front of him, practically begging with his eyes for release.

“Have you…had enough, Thorrrin?”

The way Bilbo’s R’s rolled in Thorin’s name practically had the dwarf spilling himself already. His brows knit together while trying to distract himself by sucking on Bilbo a bit harder, though feeling that hobbit from behind begin to drape across his back, Thorin’s legs began to quake. The hand that barely touched his own neglected cock was all it took. Teasing the head with a delicate thumb barely calloused by simply holding a pen, and he came quickly on a torn up rug in heavy spurts with shaking limbs shortly thereafter. Yes, he’d had enough, and yet it would never be enough.

Everything about Thorin seemed to slow down and grow lazy. His wings slumped, his tail was no longer lashing about like a whip, and his eyelids were heavy as bliss fogged his mind. It didn’t take him away entirely from servicing his hobbit, but the gentle strokes of one hand through his hair were far too comforting rather than encouraging him to be as vigorous as Bilbo had been a few moments ago.

The low hum of his purr was still just as strong as it had been before, those glazed blue eyes staring up, hoping to watch Bilbo crumple, and finding himself struck by the loving look he was given in return. Pink cheeks and a set of hands cupping at his face once more, rubbing those delicate thumbs across Thorin’s beard and scales. Bilbo was a sight to behold, and before the hobbit could say much else, Thorin was hit with the ever desired release he’d wanted from his house guest. It raced across his tongue, and he was certain he could feel a bit of the warmth sliding down his thighs before feeling disappointingly empty.

Swallowing down the expended seed from Bilbo, bitter as it was and nothing like the honey-taste of his skin, Thorin just sighed around the hobbit’s cock before sliding off as gently as possible. “See…?” Though the hoarse husky sound to his voice sounded a tad unfamiliar, Thorin swore he watched Bilbo’s ears wiggle at the sound of it. “I can be gentle.”

Bilbo’s thumbs rubbed gently at Thorin’s jawline, wiping away some spit and seed that had collected in his beard, but it didn’t stop the dragon-dwarf from shifting to toss a glance over his shoulder once more trying to locate the second Bilbo that he could hardly have imagined in all of this. Much to his surprise…there was nothing behind him. No Bilbo. Just his tail lazily sliding about.

A small huff passed through Thorin’s nose as he shifted to face forward, and much to his disappointed surprise, no Bilbo. A dose of worry began to creep across his face before something soft and heavy landed on his back from behind. The fabric of a large Ereborian quilt, lined with furs much like part of Thorin’s garb that only half coated him at the moment.

“Rest, now.”

Though Bilbo’s voice felt far away, it did bring some mild comfort as Thorin dropped, no longer relying on his palms or his knees to keep him up as he leaned the side of his face against one of his arms, eyeballing the score lines on the ground from where his claws had left their mark. A smirk of satisfaction crawled across his lips and his eyes fluttered shut as compliments regarding Bilbo began to tiredly flood from his lips. How wonderful his company was, how soft his curls were, and that soothing voice. Just about every innocent compliment Thorin could give…he spoke, until exhaustion finally took him.

=======

“Thorin?”

“Mm…golden…curls….” The dwarf murmured, his hands unwilling to move as they had a large blanket in their grasp, until a small shake came to one of his shoulders, jostling him awake. “Hm?”

A set of hazel eyes before him, perhaps a little worried in their expression, and Thorin was trying to make some sense of it as he blinked his tiredness away. He was seated next to the sofa within the library, Bilbo crouched in front of him, fully clothed, but hardly looking like he’d just gone rounds with an eager dragon on the floor.

“You fell asleep while I was getting to the good part of our story here,” Bilbo teased, tucking a bit of that blanket around his host some more. “I know you don’t fancy elves, but this is quite the tale!”

Thorin’s nose wrinkled as his eyes drifted closed once more, and discomfort settled in at his gut, rendering him more awake than he had wanted, and thankful that Bilbo had at some point had half a mind to cover him up like a dwarfling going down for a nap. “Bilbo?” While trying to feign tiredness as his hands roamed around beneath that blanket and the dwarf-dragon shifted along with them, Thorin had to wonder if he’d said anything else in his sleep. Or better yet, had he spent himself right here while Bilbo had been reading? Thankfully, that was something Thorin ruled out quickly as he continued to shift to better find comfort.

“Hm?”

“How long did you bore me for?” He lazily mumbled, ignoring Bilbo’s indignant snort.

“Fifteen minutes at most. When you started mumbling something about seeing double, I decided to let you sleep. It’s been a long time since you’ve relaxed properly, hasn’t it?” Bilbo hummed. “You’re kind of a restless sleeper.”

Thorin’s eyes locked onto Bilbo, wide and semi-concerned as apologies began to spill from his mouth before the hobbit gave a snicker–something wild and mischievous in his eyes much like the two in Thorin’s dream which settled absolutely nothing in his burning gut already.

“Don’t worry, a few loud snores and some blanket hogging isn’t about to scare me off.”

If that was the worst of it? Thorin supposed he could relax, or try to, anyway, especially as Bilbo hopped to his feet in remembrance of something other than Thorin’s silly napping patterns.

“Oh! I forgot, I had Dori put on a pot of tea for us, and then I’ll resume the story, and don’t worry, I’ll try to be more entertaining this time.”

And as Bilbo scampered off with a spring in his step, Thorin merely groaned while trying to will away his inappropriate thoughts. There was absolutely no way for that hobbit to be any more entertaining if he tried…unless there were say…two of him.

If only in his dreams, Thorin supposed.

#s&sbingo #bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #spicy fic #razzywrites #razzledrabbles #fic: dragonhearted #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #bangingshield

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rallis-fatalis · 2 months

Text

The Choices That Define

Rallis’ dive into the lizardmen’s dilemma continues as she investigates the other side of the story. Unfortunately her investigation is cut short and ends up begging more questions than answers. Once again the dragon finds herself digging into yet another tumultuous predicament that Kourend could be sure she would get to the bottom of some day.

After the incident in Shayzien with the lizardman, Rallis was booted from their encampment and told to stay away ‘for her own safety.’ She snorted and went on her way, more than ready to never return to that wretched place. What they did to that captive lizardman… It would be seared into her mind. Now she definitely had to find a way for the two sides to find peace. She snorted a short laugh to herself. Not one day since she set foot on this new continent and here she was already leaping into messy conflicts. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rallis recalled Reldo mentioning a gigantic library somewhere in Kourend, and that meant a gigantic amount of knowledge. Perhaps she could find a book or few on lizardmen and the history of their war with Shayzien and try to find a peaceful solution. And perhaps she could meet this K’uhul ajaw and have a word with them about the foolishness of trying to massacre every human in Kourend. How did they not see that idealism was also killing their own kind too?! They were obviously not fit to be a ruler.

But before finding the library, the dragon needed some numbing tea. Her throat was on fire after talking with the lizardman and she wanted to claw through her scar just to scratch that awful itch in her neck. She tried to take her mind off the pain and onto the search for hot water.

______________________________________________________________________________

After taking a tea rest in the kitchen of the castle in the center of Kourend, which was surprisingly very open to public visitors (save the throne room), Rallis asked around for directions to the library. Those that were brave enough to talk with the “scary blue lizardman” motioned to house Arceuus in the north and shooed her on her way.

Rallis perked up with a smile as she walked through Arceuus. Where plants would grow, crystals did instead, vibrant and in a myriad of colors. The earth turned dark shades of purple, rich magic flowing through the ground she walked upon. It made her scales itch but not in an unpleasant way; it made the dragon want to roll on the ground and soak in all the magic around her. Even the air tingled with the promise of spells.

The residents of Arceuus looked far different from any other person Rallis had ever seen. They were robed like wizards but absolutely no skin showed, making them look like animated clothing with bright glowing eyes. Instead of walking, they floated slightly above the ground. Where the people of Hosidius and especially Shayzien looked upon Rallis with fear and anger, these people looked at her with curiosity. Were Rallis not on a mission she would be more than willing to hang back and chat.

Passing by a grove of magic trees, turning the corner of some rune and magic stores, and following the twisting path through rows of crystals finally led Rallis to the entrance of the Arceuus library, a three storey tall elegantly structured building. The windows and doors were stained glass. Inside, the railings leading to the upper floors were intricately woven metal with simple designs. The bookshelves were pristine, not a scuff mark or speck of dust to be found, and every book was promptly shelved in their rightful place when returned.

A mage acting as a librarian hovered between a series of desks and carts, sorting returned books for filing away. Rallis snuck over with a wave hello and showed them a note in her notebook asking for books on lizardmen. They rattled off a series of tomes, which Rallis quickly tried to scrawl down, and went back to their book sorting, which Rallis took as her cue to get searching.

Some minutes later, the dragon was seated on the floor, back against the wall and piles of books around her. Many of the books she found were on Shayzien’s side of history, talking facts and dates of notable battles and invasions. There was information on lizardman biology, the use of their bones in the making of venom resistant armor, battle tactics for facing the different types of lizardmen, locations that housed many of their population, but none of this was what Rallis needed. The human side of things was cut and dry: the lizardmen attack humans, so the humans defend. There was nothing here on their side of the story, and there was no hope of finding a solution by viewing only half the tale.

One of the books mentioned the primary known lizardman settlement lying to the west of Kourend, in the untraversable swamplands southwest of Shayzien. Perhaps she could sneak into their city and find a lizardman willing to speak with her and share their history, or steal a few of their books for reading.

But that was a plan for the morrow. Night had fallen and the day’s adventure had been long. With Rallis’ second day on Kourend coming to a close, she returned her books to a return cart and found the coziest spot of dirt outside to catch a night’s sleep in.

By the time the average morning person would be awake enough to wander about for a breakfast outing or early chores, Rallis had left the city limits of Kourend. She snaked through twisting winding mines and paths through low mineral rich hills west of houses Arceuus and Lovakengj. Not a soul seemed to call the landscape home, not even a hint of civilization in any direction, save a tall ominous tower against the seaside to the north. The wind whistled hollowly through the mines, like the wailing of ghosts. It made Rallis shiver as she continued her trek westward.

Eventually the rocky path split, one path leading towards a volcano to the north, the other to grasslands to the south. According to her knowledge, the lizardman settlement was to the southwest. Rallis followed the path, passing farmland and a glass encased garden the size of a small town. Shayzien guards patrolled the area; she surely had to be close to the lizardmen city.

Rallis snuck past the guards, eventually reaching the beginning of a swamp. River water turned to a mucky green sludge. Solid earth turned to squishy bogs, and any trace of human life vanished. Coiling green plantlife snaked out of the murky water to trip any unsuspecting passerby. Rallis had to watch her footing with every step she took. The sky grew darker in the swamp, a permanent layer of thick clouds hanging above the area that never seemed to move. Flickers of ghostly light floated atop the swamp like will-o-wisps, bringing light to the otherwise shadowy misty swamp and lighting the way to a rising series of structures in the distance. From what Rallis could see, they looked like the pyramids she’d seen pictures of in Reldo’s books, though they were far less sand colored and broken down. Perhaps that was the lizardmen’s city!

Structures popped up amidst the fog as Rallis neared the giant pyramid, which grew larger with every step closer she took. Huts and corrals made of rotting bark and animal bones housed armor, weapons, supplies, and oddly some very bright and colorful frogs. Spears lined the path to the city, adorned with skulls, some of which were human. Stylized carvings of a dragon-like creature’s head was a common motif, adorning pillars, statues, carvings, and even outfits. Hopefully that meant they would take a shine to her.

Two burly brutish lizardmen stood guard at an arch marking the entrance to their city. At the sight of Rallis, they readied their swords and shields and hissed at the dragon. She held up her hands to show she meant no harm and bowed low. The guards gave each other a wary glance and remained on guard but did not make a move to attack.

“Hello,” Rallis rasped in Wyvernic. “Seek your knowledge. Want to learn and help you.”

The lizardmen guards growled in startled confusion and whispered in their native hissy language to each other. Eventually one ran off while the other continued his watch. Rallis assumed they were getting someone higher up than a guard to see her, and in just a few moments her hunch was proven right. The lizardman brought before her was even larger than the guards; she had to crane her neck just to make eye contact. They wore a much more detailed outfit, adorned with feathers and animal bones, with an especially large carved skull atop their head like a ceremonial mask, notably in the shape of their dragon motif. They walked with a large wooden staff and a slight limp.

“Greetings, foreigner. Why do you come to our home?”

Rallis’ ears shot up in surprise. That was Common! She didn’t expect them to speak it. Did that mean they could also read it too? She wrote in her notepad that she was seeking information on the history of the lizardmen and to better understand them. When she showed the large lizardman her notes, he was indeed able to read her writing. He turned and motioned with his tail for her to follow.

He led her to a stone hole in the ground that dropped into a series of underground ruins, like a second city hidden beneath the first. It was quiet down here, with only the sound of dripping water and occasional distant shuffling of feet breaking the stony silence. There were many alcoves amidst the walls of the ruins, leading to sleeping areas, nesting grounds, storage areas, and more. The lizardman led Rallis to one such alcove and slumped down with a heavy sigh. He leaned half against his wooden staff, half against the wall.

“I am Khat B’alam, shaman of thissss tribe. Any who sssseek knowledge receive it from ussss, and no other shaman would dare ssssee an outsider. What is it you sssseek, lizard from human’s lands.”

Through the power of her notes, Rallis told the story of the lizardman who was captured and killed by the Shayzien soldiers, how it made her want to find a way to stop their war, and how it led her here since no stories from the other side would be found in the lands of humans.

Khat looked at the dragon oddly. “You are sssstrange. Why do you bother with the lives of those you do not know?”

Because helping people in need was the right thing to do, she wrote. Khat blinked a few times, in a bit of awe at the honesty of her answer.

“Well then… I shall tell you what I know.”

“In the beginning of our history, there was only our creator, K’uhul ajaw. Humans use a different name, but it has been lost to ussss. K’uhul ajaw wove our being together from nothing, and sssso we owe Him everything. He granted ussss His high speech, ssssomething that has now been losssst to all but the shamans. He gave ussss life, culture, will, and in return we follow His ways, passed down to ussss through our elders.”

This K’uhul ajaw sounded like a god. Rallis hoped not. From her experiences, those who followed a god like this never changed their course once their mind was set on it. She’d been attacked by plenty of Saradominist zealots to know that firsthand.

‘Does he tell you to attack humans?’ Rallis wrote.

Khat nodded.

‘Why?’ she asked.

“The reason is losssst to time, but the reason does not matter. We must do as K’uhul ajaw ssssays.”

Rallis frowned. That would not do! With logic like that, there would be no way to stop the fighting. Was there really no way to stop the killing, she asked.

“If one could sssspeak with Him and learn of His reasons, perhapssss. But His location eludes ussss. Only the ancientssss before ussss would possess thissss knowledge.”

Rallis huffed in defeat. So she was stuck, unless she could somehow find a way to speak with the dead. She’d met someone in Lumbridge who could, and Grimro told her stories of chatty ghosts that called Morytania home, but even then such specters were rare. Was there a way to raise the dead like Morytania was able to so she could speak with an ancient lizardman?

“Your trouble is apparent,” Khat commented. “If you truly sssseek such knowledge, there is one other that may hold answers. Or three others, rather.”

Rallis perked up immediately.

“In the volcano north of here, there existssss three ancient beings that have seen this land grow from its very beginnings. We do not pay them with our time any longer, their words laced with tricks, and humans bar ussss entry, but you may yet glean that which you sssseek.”

Rallis jumped up with an excited nod. She passed what she assumed was that volcano on the way here. She could be there in no time at all! With that Khat escorted her from the city and the two said their goodbyes.

______________________________________________________________________________

The volcano was quite different from the ones Rallis had traversed before. The lava glowed a bright blue and positively reeked rot, old eggs, and something chemical that burned her throat. An encampment of golems infused with lava sat at the top of the volcano, none of whom paid Rallis any mind. In the center of the encampment, the earth dipped and a lift descended into the hole of the volcano. A strange decorative figure, like some weird draconic bird, perched atop the roof of the lift. The sight made her scales crawl and her heart race. She turned her gaze away swiftly, the feeling of unease going with it.

As Rallis entered the lift, she felt a blast of hot air hit her, the rancid smell making her gag. Thankfully she was used to the heat otherwise she might not have been able to stomach going down there. The volcano opened into a series of caverns and tunnels and lava flows, reminiscent of Taverley’s dungeon. Rallis felt a pang of homesickness at the thought; she’d have to pay her mother a visit soon.

Rallis hopped off the lift and walked into the cavern. Three huge golems sat before her, as tall as a building. They were seated in equally huge chairs, like kings in their thrones. They had to be the ones Khat spoke of. Before Rallis could even open her mouth to speak to them, they addressed her.

“Dragon from across the sea.”

“You were expected.”

“And your purpose here is known to us.”

Rallis shut her mouth in surprise. Were these beings omniscient or something? With the way they finished each other’s thoughts they had to be.

“You seek communion with the deceased.”

“We have this knowledge.”

“But we will not provide it.”

“It goes against the natural order.”

Rallis gave them a confused grumble.

“The dead need remain dead.”

“You seek to return one to the land of life.”

“You seek to disrupt a delicate balance.”

Rallis snorted. No she didn’t. If anything, she was trying to restore a broken balance with her intentions. Besides, she didn’t intend to permanently raise whoever she spoke with. The three molten golems seemed to understand her without her having to say a word.

“The plight of the lizardmen is not something to be solved.”

“Not yet, and not by you alone.”

“Cease your folly and leave us now.”

Rallis growled and stepped closer, ready to leap onto these pretentious rock monsters and claw her thoughts into their rocky skin. Suddenly, something warm settled between Rallis’ wings, like a comforting hand resting on her back. For just a moment, a subtle green glow surrounded her, something that gave quite a shock to the three golems.

“A balance keeper,” they all muttered at once. The glow faded away and Rallis watched as the three of them exchanged serious whispers. After a few moments, they seemed to settle on their thoughts.

“Servant of a keeper of balance.”

“We will aid you.”

“But know it shall come with a price.”

Rallis crossed her arms and tilted her head as if to ask what they wanted.

“The answers you seek lie in the realm of Arceuus.”

“A realm of heretics who abandon the natural order.”

“There you will find the way to resurrect the dead and commune with them.”

“You need only the remains of whom you wish to speak.”

Rallis uncrossed her arms. That sounded easy enough. Khat would likely know where to find ancient lizardman bones to reanimate. The concept sounded a smidge disturbing though.

“Our price for this knowledge is thus.”

“Those of Arceuus have evaded death for far too long.”

“They bastardize the order of the world.”

“There will come a day when they meet their reckoning.”

“You will be present at its beginning.”

“Do not aid them.”

“Unless you wish to suffer with them.”

“Now go. We have much to think on.”

Rallis gave a curt nod and promptly excused herself. She did not like those three. If she ever had to deal with them again it would be too soon. With a new plan in hand, Rallis dashed back off to the lizardman settlement in the swamp.

_________________________________________________________________________

The next day, Rallis was back in house Arceuus, the massive fragile skull of an ancient lizardman shaman under her arm. The three golems hadn’t told her where exactly to go, but after a bit of asking around, she was led to the most northeast corner of Arceuus. The crystals that grew around the city were far larger here and exuded a level of magic that made the runes in Rallis’ pouch start to act up. Eventually she came upon an altar, a square plinth with a large purple-black crystal resting in its center, one far more powerful than the wild grown ones around her. A ghostly robed resident hovered nearby, some kind of caretaker for the area. Rallis waved him down and asked him how she could go about reviving the skull she brought with her.

“Interested in our art of necromancy are you, outsider? Permit me to examine the relic you’ve brought.”

Rallis carefully handed the delicate skull over. The caretaker gave it an equally gentle look over. “Yes, this will work,” he mumbled. He handed the skull back. “You may certainly reanimate the creature you hold for a short period of time, but only once. The soul left in its bones is very faint. Place it upon the altar.”

The dragon nodded and gently set it on the purple-gray plinth. Getting close to the crystal in its center made her shudder, like a series of cold fingers were dragging across her scales.

“Given the nature of the creature you wish to reanimate, it would be wiser to have you perform the spell rather than me.”

Rallis blinked in surprise. Her? But she didn’t know the first thing about necromancy! The caretaker could see the worry on the dragon’s face.

“You have no need to fret,” he assured. “I can sense you’re already quite the accomplished mage yourself. Learning this shall be child’s play. You need only the appropriate runes.”

Rallis dumped out some of the runes from her pouch into her hand for him to pick out which to use. Surprisingly he picked out one of the runes with pale blue wings. If she remembered correctly, Dionysius called that one a soul rune. Rallis had never used one before; how exciting it would be to try new magic!

“The closer you are in proximity to the altar, the stronger the spell will be, so I suggest you remain as close as possible for your first attempt. Casting the spell itself holds no challenge, but then you must channel power from the surrounding crystals to create a tether to the soul trapped in the bones. These crystals are tied to the river of souls that flow through this land, and pulling a soul from the river can be draining, especially with a creature as old as this. You will feel as if someone is pulling on your very being, trying to drag it down; do not let it. Pull back. If you are successful, you will have your lizardman. If not, you won’t get another chance and the remnants of its soul will fade.”

Rallis nodded. It sounded a bit tricky but she could do it! She stood before the skull, broke the runes for the spell, and suddenly everything around her started to glow purple. The altar crackled, the crystals shimmered, and for just a moment, Rallis blacked out. In the cold darkness, invisible ghostly hands sank their nails into her chest, trying to tear her apart. It was like a piece of herself Rallis couldn’t see was being yanked away violently. She pulled back, and an invisible silent battle of tug-o-war ensued. With one final exhausting tug, Rallis fell backwards, out of the darkness and onto the familiar dark earth of Arceuus.

Rallis caught her breath. That was rough! What an exhausting form of magic this country had developed.

The skull on the altar floated away in a cloud of purple, hovering at head height for a shaman. Rallis scrambled from the ground, dusting her clothes off, and stood at attention. The purple glow flowed from the skull, giving it the form of a ghostly lizardman shaman, an ancient creature that exuded a demand for respect.

As its body fully formed, it looked around in angry shock, gaze settling on Rallis. He hissed at the dragon savagely.

“Where am I?! Who are you?!” he roared.

Rallis bowed. “Name Rallis,” she strangled out. “Seek help for your kind.” She was thankful the creature spoke not in Common; if the caretaker had heard her say such a thing she was sure she would be in immense trouble.

“Take me from afterlife for this?!” he hissed. “Ask the living!”

“Living not know,” she stressed. “Only dead know. Please tell, why your kind kill human? Why K’uhul ajaw say so?”

“Not matter. We do as K’uhul ajaw say.”

“Please,” Rallis begged. “I must know reason. Reason is getting your kind killed. Why does K’uhul ajaw make you fight?”

The shaman paused, calculating the dragon before him as if debating whether his knowledge should be passed on or remain with him in death. Perhaps it no longer mattered. He was dead, after all.

“Our maker hate humans,” the shaman said. “They hurt Him, exile Him, hunt Him all life. He try to hide all life, but humans chase Him. Not happy until He dies. He make us with His anger.” The lizardman stood proud and tall. “WE ARE HIS VENGEANCE! We will right the wrongs done to Him!”

Rallis took a step back in fear at the unbridled display of self righteousness. This wasn’t right! How could something create an entire species just to kill mindlessly, to cause terror to every generation that came after those at fault? Thousands of years of murder, all because of needless suffering and a grudge.

A volley of arrows shot above Rallis’ head, landing in the specter of the lizardman shaman. As they pierced and shattered the skull holding it together, the beast howled and shattered into an explosion of magic and bone shards. Rallis spun around to see a battalion of Shayzien soldiers armed to the teeth, weapons drawn. They swiftly surrounded Rallis. One dressed more fiercely than the other stepped forward, hand on the hilt of their sword.

“And here I thought the sergeant was joking,” they barked. “Are you the lizardman known as Rallis?”

Rallis growled. “Dragon,” she muttered.

“You were told by Lord Shayzien himself to refrain from trespassing on Shayzien land,” the soldier continued. “Multiple sightings place you crossing Shayzien land to pay repeated visits to lizardman territory, and now we find you reviving our enemy in our own borders. I don’t know how things work in your lands, but here sharing information with the enemy and helping them sneak past our borders is treason. You now have two choices: be escorted back to your authority with our delegation or be dealt with here. Choose.”

Rallis paled. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. But there was an obvious answer. Varrock royal authority meant Reldo, and Reldo typically meant getting off scot free. With her decision made, the soldiers removed her from the premises of their grand city and corralled the dragon onto yet another small cramped boat for a long journey home. At least she would have an interesting tale to tell her bookman friend in lieu of bringing home the new books he hoped for. And one day she could have even more wild tales to regale him with, because Kourend could be sure of one thing.

Rallis the dragon wasn’t done here yet.

#osrs #runescape #oc tag #my writes

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