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noodle-slurp · 2 years

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Part 6

-drags this to you as a broken and bleeding corpse. Get ya part 6....part 6 ready to go!

Tw: mentions of violence? Uh...yea.

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They don’t speak on the way to the vehicle. It’s not that either have nothing to say, it’s just neither are sure how to breech the topic of what it is they want to ask.

It’s the giant that breaks the silence first, his voice a low rumble through their bones despite how level he keeps it. “So what brought you back?” he asks as he scratches his back on a nearby tree.

Man he really wanted to know, huh…

They exhale a sigh as they rummage through their cracked console and stuff their bag with the jerky inside. They don’t answer right away, mind flashing back to those days - the the darkness, the weight of careless hands around them, of teeth…of blood.

When they do answer, they hate how their voice trembles. “There was just nowhere left for me to go.”

He makes a displeased hum somewhere behind them. He isn’t a fan of their vagueness. “So ending up back in my stomach…seemed better?”

They freeze, heart hammering at those words. They slouch sideways in the seat faced away from him, eyes tracing idly over the torn passenger seat, the backpack, the ruined door frame. “Don’t” is all they can say, the words more a plea than a demand.

He tilts his head, blinking at the almost mumbled words. “Don’t what? Eat you?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he can hear their heart, he can sense the tension they hold, the fear. Delicious…But , no.

He exhales and crosses his arms, looking away from them. “Don’t worry about it for now. You’re not worth eating in your current state anyway.” he isn’t sure why he had to word it that way.

That does not comfort them. They feel a bit sick, actually. They pull one of the strips of venison from their bag and gnaw on it slowly, savoring the taste and allowing the motion to soothe them just a tad.

“What happened to your car?”

They hesitate to answer, the sound of metal bending and twisting loud in their mind. They consider lying and decide it wasn’t worth the upkeep. “A giant.”

He had figured from the smell, but it was still weird to hear. “You’re pretty lucky aint ya. Meeting two giants and still kickin around.: he snorts.

“Five - and a werewolf″ they correct.

He pauses, baffled. “Five? Wait a werewolf?”

They take a chunk from the jerky, giving themselves time to think, to wonder if they wanted to say anymore. Those nights weighed heavy on them, like water drenched clothes dragging them down and clawing them under.

“The first night after I left, I woke to my door being torn off - like someone opening a can of sardines. There was only the one. Some people showed up, called themselves monster hunters - they killed her and took me back to their…base? I guess?" A pause, they neglect to tell him she'd ate them - or about how they almost died. “Told me the monsters had teamed up and overwhelmed the cities to try and destroy humanity.”

It’s his turn to be breathless now. “No shit?” he breathes out, “So the stories were true, then…”

“What stories?” they ask, twisting around to face him.

He’s speechless a moment, unsure how to word it.

“There are stories we giants tell, of a time when monsters will rule the earth again. They tell of our new lives among the ashes of mankind.”

Ah…Context. Well that certainly didn’t make their current predicament any better. Part of them had hoped maybe they were just being cynical - that there really was somewhere else to go, that maybe, just over some other hill laid a less fatal future. Guess they could stop trying to fool themselves now.

They sag in their seat and contemplate their jerky strip. Guess this was them now, too, huh…Some tasty treat for this giant to eat whenever he got the munchies - and if not him, one of the many other things prowling the darkness now.

They force themselves to continue gnawing on the stick of meat. “Yea…They mentioned something like that…” they finally mutter. They sigh.

"Anyway….” they hesitate to continue.

“Go on” he prods.

They make a displeased noise. “The base was this…sorta warehouse turned to a base. Lot more hunters - and a section for 'civilians'." They recall the darker halves of the warehouse, the smell of metal and concrete, of sweat and people falling away to blood and terror. "I uh, have a habit of being where I shouldn't be."

He snort-chuckles in agreement.

"Deeper in the place, there were cages and blood - and inside one of the cages was a wolf. Not like - an actual wolf - a big one, with long arms - and thumbs. Ya know…a werewolf."

"Anyway…stayed in that place for…a week? Time's hard to keep track of…"

"- Then the monsters came….a lot of them - I think- I didn't stick around to see what all those noises were - it was…a lot….I used the opportunity to free the werewolf and bailed - found my truck and off we went…" they remember the screaming, the sounds of bones breaking, of gun fire and angry shouts.

"I picked up a few people on the way…and it was just me, the wolf, and a few refugees with nowhere to go."

They chuckle darkly, remembering trying so hard to have hope, to keep the others on the brightside. "I thought, maybe, we had a chance, we did alright for a few days…Then They found us - a group of giants with nothing better to do I guess. I-"

This part gets tricky. "So much happened so fast. It's hard to remember…It was the werewolf who saved me…" they lie. "I don't know what happened to the others…He told me to run - and I did."

They sigh sadly "And now, here I am." They gesture, unease filling them. "Back where I started and probably just going right back into somethings guts…"

He had listened in silence, head tilted, soaking in the tale, and now, as they finished, he realized they were perhaps hoping for some sort of comfort. They didn't say it, but he could feel it. He exhales lazily. "That's…a lot." He looks away, thinking. "Well, you don't have to worry about anything else eating you."

They look up at him, green eyes meeting green, brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and hope. Oh how they dared hope, even now…

"Because you're my prey." He says with a grin, kneeling down to run the back of his finger over their cheek. "And I don't like sharing."

This does not comfort them at all.

#Vore writing #Vore story #Soft vore #G/t #This took forever and felt so much longer than it actually is....im so sorry

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libradusk · 4 years

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Morning Embers | Rex

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Summary: The morning after your unexpected ‘activities’ on Felucia leads both you and Rex towards a string of confessions you should have stumbled down long ago.

Warnings/Content: AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), smutty soft sex, admission of feeeeeelings and morning-after anxieties, a much more subby Rex than in the previous chapter (I mean...)

a/n: This is set during the events of “Bounty Hunters” from season 2 of TCW, except instead of fighting pirates the reader and Rex end up boning down.

Follow up chapter to this

It's the morning sun that first leads you to stir. It slips its finger-like rays through the cave’s mouth to rake across your marked skin, and play across your face until your lashes flutter open and force you to squint against the light. The rest of your body soon follows in whirring to life in a cascade of sensation, starting with the ache rooted across your muscles and ending with the solid warmth and weight of the second body currently entwined and draped across your own.

The trooper curled around you groans at the light’s intrusion, the sound vibrating down the slope of your shoulder from where his face nestles in the crook of your neck. You shiver at the feeling, it's a welcome distraction to the cramp brewing in your legs and the tenderness throbbing at the apex of your thighs.

You grimace slightly as you attempt to stretch out your limbs as best you can from where they remain trapped beneath the entanglement of Rex’s body. There’s a sizeable pool of slickness smeared across your inner thighs that has long-since gathered and cooled there following your ‘activities’ the evening before. It serves as another reminder of the line you had finally crossed alongside the Captain beside you, a prelude to the mark he had branded onto your heart that would neither fade nor be washed away, unlike the more physical reminders he had littered your body with.

But despite the discomfort and the aching and the little comfort your flimsy nest of clothing provided, you’re content, happy if not completely wrecked in a wonderful way.

You can’t help but smile to yourself as you turn to glance at Rex snoring lightly against your shoulder. For the first time since your impromptu landing, and possibly even before that, he seems peaceful, comfortable even despite sharing the same unforgivably hard surface of the cave floor, and no doubt sporting an arm that is devoid of feeling from where you’ve been laying on it all night. You risk the chance to ghost your fingers over the slope of his back, marvelling in the warmth of his skin even in the chill of the morning air. He’s no longer as furnace-hot as he had been at the peak of his lust-induced delirium, and you wonder if you had succeeded in fucking out the last of whatever toxin it was that had made a temporary home in his body.

The outside world begins to stir alongside you now, though you find it difficult to focus on the chimes of birdsong whistling through the morning air as your fingertips idly trace the indents your nails left behind on his shoulder blades, and the constellations of faint scars that you had failed to focus on before.

Your mind begins to drift and spiral before you can stop it.

Things were bound to change between you now.

Despite how much you had enjoyed your night with the trooper, it hadn’t exactly been with the Rex you had known for so long now. Granted you could look at it as a necessity for helping someone you cared for so deeply, as well as it scratching the itch that desperately needed sating between you both, but you still stung with the knowledge that when he awakened, you would no doubt be forced into an uncomfortable conversation, one that could only end with the two of you figuring out how to function as colleagues for long enough to survive the journey back to the others without getting yourselves dismissed for inappropriately fraternising before finally severing whatever it was that had built up ever since you had met him.

And that realisation hurt. You would happily spend the rest of your days trapped against the cold floor if it meant that reality would never unfold at your feet.

At least you could enjoy these last few stolen moments for a little while longer before they were locked away from you forever.

But as Rex subconsciously tightens himself around you once you place a soft kiss to his sleep-furrowed brow, you realise that it's never going to be that simple. Your chest aches with a newfound guilt that you know his own will mirror when he awakens.

You’re not entirely sure how long you lay there counting the steady rise and fall of his chest and daring to run your hand down the length of Rex’s back before he finally stirs awake, but it seems much too short all the same once his sleepy gaze locks with your own and causes the lump in your throat to constrict further. His vision appears honeyed and blurry as he releases an arm from you to paw at his eyes with the back of his fist, a yawn tapering off into a disgruntled grunt as he scowls at the morning light now spilling around the shield of your body and pouring through the entirety of the cave. Rex wears an expression that would be more befitting of a man hungover from a night at 79’s, rather than one who had just engaged in a night of toxin-induced fucking. The scene is almost too domestic in its nature, the contrasting softness of his expression and the painful emotions staining your thoughts only twisting your heartache further until it wrings your stomach between its claws with a sickening force.

Before you can spiral further into your misery however, he’s blinking the remainders of sleep from his eyes and focusing them directly on you.

You swear you can pinpoint the exact moment the realisation hits him as his pupils contract.

“Good morning, Captain.”

You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to say it. Even when you’re all but wilting under his gaze, your brain apparently can’t resist the urge to tease him, though your voice quivers despite its lightness, betraying what little attempt to save face your mind has scrambled for.

Rex remains frozen, and in any other setting you would find his expression comical. His eyes dart between your face and the way you absentmindedly worry your lip between your teeth, to down to where the two of you are tangled like lovers and sticky with a mixture of fluids. Another beat passes before his entire body catches up with his mind and attempts to curl in on itself in clear mortification. This time a bitter laugh tears itself from your throat as you shuffle away from him and catch the way he subtly attempts to flex the blood back into his dead arm.

“Oh, fuck.”

His expression is hidden as the expletive leaves him in a strained sigh, the shame coating his words like a clear, thick poison despite the hands smothering his face.

You bite down harder on your lip at the way his cursing muffles into frustrated gibberish as his body attempts to sink back into the unforgiving surface of the floor. His face remains hidden by the shutter of his fingers, though the flush colouring the tips of his ears red is a clear indication of what he looks like behind his hands. He lets out what you think is a cross between a sigh and a shout of frustration into his palms, tone raising in what you rationalise to be the finale of his self-deprecation. There’s a smidgen of comfort to be found in the way he has completely forsaken the stoic demeanour befitting for a Captain in the simple hope that the ground beneath him would mercifully open up to claim him.

You almost have the urge to pat him on the shoulder in a sign of solidarity until you catch yourself and cringe at the thought. Instead, you focus your attention on picking at a loose thread poking out of the seam of the uniform crumpled beneath you and attempting to formulate an excuse you could supply to the others to explain the various stains tarnishing the fabric.

Rex takes another moment to himself before clearing his throat and folding his hands atop his chest as he turns to address you properly.

“I’m sorry.” His words are simple and exhaled within a sigh, yet the crease etched deep in his brow speaks volumes in place of them. “I shouldn’t have - I wasn’t… kriff, I’m so sorry for everything.”

His face is painted in layers of shame and you have to fight back the urge to kiss away the guilt lining his forehead and mouth.

“I’m as much at fault in this as you are, maybe even more so.” Your voice comes out much smaller than you intend it to, almost getting lost in the shadows of the cave itself. Rex’s eyes wander from yours after you finish speaking, expression shifting into something unreadable, and for a horrible moment you fear you’ve said the wrong thing.

His fingers flex instinctively against each other, nervously - you note. You had seen them do this countless times before battle and meetings alike, though you weren't sure if he ever noticed this habit himself. The pair of brown eyes before you remain glossed over in thought even as you attempt to desperately search them for some semblance of a response.

“...No. I never meant for it to, you know, happen like… this, between us I mean.” The last word leaves him in another exasperated sigh that has him gripping the bridge of his nose in frustration. His tone holds a familiar discipline now, but his thoughts seem to spill out in a jumbled heap that reflect the state of his current head-space.

It takes a moment for the words to fully sink in, but as soon as they do, your pulse is back to hammering in your ears the same way it had yesterday when you had returned to stumble upon his naked form.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” The words jump from your mouth before you have a chance of reeling your thoughts back, and you hope to the stars that he doesn’t pick up on the swell of hopefulness buttering your shock.

You aren’t stupid, you can guess what it is he’s attempting to voice, anxious as he is, but you can’t trust that you’re not dreaming until the words fall from his lips themselves.

Rex breathes out deeply from his nose. For a brief moment, his eyes threaten to wander down to where the sunlight settles warmly over your naked chest before they firmly lock on to your own. An involuntary shiver passes through you at their intensity. The way he stares at you makes you feel more naked than what even your own bare body can reflect - though the urge to run away and hide has long since died. There was no point in attempting to hide yourself away at this point, especially considering you had all but implored him to expose the layers of his own vulnerability in front of you.

“I’ve wanted this, wanted more than just this I mean, for a long time now.”

A smile somehow manages to tug at the corner of your mouth despite the way your pulse has skyrocketed in your ears at his confession, the noise whiting out to a pleasantly shocked buzz as you let the words sink in and wrap around your heart. In the very back of your mind, you register the faint sting of a pinch against your upper arm. It's one that you don’t even realise you have bestowed upon yourself until your shoulder shifts uncomfortably with the pressure, but also reassures you all the same that, no - this is not a dream.

In a heartbeat, Rex has melted from a disgraced, morose soldier to a flustered mess of a man. He rubs at the back of his neck in a way that's almost cliché, but also so endearing that you can’t look away from the sight of him.

“‘Suppose there's no use in hiding it now is there? Not now I’ve gone and made a royal kriffing mess of everything, that is. Guess I’m the same old di’kut I’ve always been” He punctuates the statement with a bitter chuckle and a faux smirk that doesn’t meet his eyes. You frown, an uncomfortable weight settling itself in your gut once more.

“...Rex, I’ve wanted this too, you know. I just didn’t hedge my bets on it taking the effects of an alien toxin to force me to confront it.” Not the most eloquent way of putting it, but you attempt to match his embarrassed smirk with a smile of your own, hoping that the intention behind your statement reaches him all the same. “The only di’kut you’re guilty of being is an oblivious di’kut.”

That gets a grin out of him, one that stretches until the corners of his eyes are crinkling with mirth. Happiness blooms within you at the sight, and your body finally allows itself to relax for the first time since awakening that morning.

Where before there had been a burning heat stretched between you, now there is a comfortable marigold warmth twinkling across your skin as Rex leans forward to catch your lips with his own. This kiss is gentle, almost hesitant in how soft it is. You can feel the tickle of laughter bubble in your throat as your smiles meld together.

“I’ve made a real mess of you.” Rex murmurs the words half-apologetically against your lips as he ghosts a touch over the love-bites decorating your neck. The trail of his fingertips threads goosebumps across your flesh as he dips them towards your collarbone - itself painted with bruised hues that could rival the vividness of a night sky.

He sounds almost proud, feigning an apology through the way he dances butterfly kisses over your marked skin before drifting them back towards your face. You roll your eyes at him before sweeping him into a deep kiss that steals the breath from his lungs and has him keening into the hand you have cupped around his jaw, effectively silencing him with the sound of his own groan.

You remain like this for a while longer, lazily locked in an embrace that has you glowing from the inside out with a steadily creeping heat, both breaking apart only momentarily each time to mouth over the expanse of the other’s skin, hands caressing and exploring as though you hadn’t spent the better part of yesterday grasping onto each others bodies as though they were the only things that grounded you both. Rex’s broad hands rub apologetic little circles across the bruising peppering your hips and wrists, brow twitching each time your reflexive squirming forces his eyes to crack open to face up to his misdoings. You swallow his concerns behind kisses before they can leap from his lips, curling around him a little tighter each time.

He doesn’t fight you - finally content to give in to the affection dripping from every single one of your touches and allow it to wash over him.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

I love you.

The words slip off his tongue easily, as though they were always meant to be spoken against your lips. You find yourself smiling into the kiss once again, teeth scraping slightly against the plush velvet of his mouth just enough so that he knows you’ve translated it - you’ve spent adequate time around him and his brothers to pick up an inkling of mando’a, it proves to be enough to allow you to stumble through his words with a dizzy heart.

He freezes suddenly, and it dawns on you then that these words were not meant to reach your ears just yet. But he no longer needs to speak them for their intention to be known, to be felt by you in the way he holds you close as though you are the most valuable treasure across all the moons and stars. Your body sings as you press back against him with more fever than before, determined to have him feel the depth of your own adoration through the press of your lips alone.

I love you, I love you, I love you. I fear I have always loved you.

You kiss the mantra across his jawline, delighting in the way his heartbeat hammers in a crescendo with your ministrations as you flatten your tongue against his pulse. That all too familiar flicker of warmth begins to bloom deep in your stomach, snapping into something stickier once again as a particular scrape of your teeth sends a rumble echoing through his chest. The urge to pull him even closer prevails, and you resort to throwing your thigh over one of his own to tug him harder against you. The heat of his cock grazes against you as you straddle him. It weeps and twitches with the contact and succeeds in pulling a groan from you both even as your lips and tongues continue to mesh together.

Despite the ever rising fever of the situation, there is no animalistic urge driving the force of both of you this time. Instead you find yourself lazily dragging your hips over his, the movement slow and resonating with teasing affection and a desire to truly feel every part of him underneath you. Though you can feel his thighs shaking as they remain caged beneath the weight of your body, Rex remains largely still, the small cues his body whispers to you being the only indicators of his aching desire to be joined with you once more.

He’s being so good, but you can’t help but want to tease him a little more, to stretch this moment out even further behind each smile that twists into your kisses. A frown pulls halfheartedly at his brow and you trace it lightly with the tip of a fingertip in mock-comfort. Yet still he submits to your wiles, continuing to surrender himself to your mercy even as your core grinds wetly down against his arousal. It's only when the tip of it grazes over the slick seam of your opening that his hips finally betray his composure. They canter upwards with a jolt that has him hissing through his teeth and has you feeling the wettest you’re positive you’ve ever been in your life.

It's an impossible task to not revel in the sight of him twisting beneath you, blown ochre peering up through his lashes to stare up at you pleadingly as his hands sit patiently atop your hips. Your smile threatens to wobble into a smirk as Rex lets out a whine that edges on being pathetic. He’s so responsive to every touch, even the ghosting of your nails as you run them down and over the expanse of his chest with a feather-light caress.

You map out the crossfire of scars stitched across the skin there in the way you had longed to do the night before, circling each one lovingly as you sit back against the cushion of his abs. He moans openly now, emotion thick in his throat as you continue to lavish attention over the marks decorating his body, the sound betraying what little discipline he had left to hide behind. His hands drag themselves in an electrifying path down your thighs, fingers just barely brushing over the bone of your knees. Despite the lust swimming in his stare, his entire focus is trained on you as he silently begs for you to emancipate him with some form of relief.

Your touch wanders down towards the dip of his hips behind you, coming to rest just short of the base of his throbbing cock, and you delight in the way he twitches and writhes even further as you deny him once again. At last, the trooper throws his head back in defeat, practically growling with frustrated arousal yet never breaking eye contact with you, his face twisted with a tortured anguish of the most delicious degree.

“Please.” He mouths the words to you, voice stolen by a shuddering breath that falls from him in ragged pants. You cock an eyebrow, heart pounding all the while as you lean forward to tower over the quivering mess of a man you had sculpted with your teasing. Your palms press smoothly into the ground beneath Rex’s head as you support yourself to glance over him. The sensation is almost icy against the clamminess of your palms, but it's easy to ignore the cutting feeling as your lips brush just barely against his own with the proximity of your faces.

“What is it you want from me, cyare?”

Rex groans at the sound of his mother tongue on your lips, panting harder as his resolve crumbles to dust at last and forces him to jerk upwards to cup your face with a clammy palm. Your lower half sits slick and eager against the muscles of his abdomen and you know he can tell that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. But even still, you refuse to back down, not until you’ve succeeded in winding him just that last little inch further.

His thumb swipes over the apple of your cheek and you tilt your head to steal the tip of it past the part of your lips, tongue dashing across the pad of it just slightly, but enough to leave him reeling once more and tighten the fist his spare hand now has fisted in the mess of uniform beneath his hips.

“Please-” his voice is strained and gravelly as his words finally find purchase in the hazy air between you. “Need you, need you so badly.”

The way his groans wrap so delightfully around his whine of your name is all it takes for you to put an abrupt end to your foreplay. You grant him one last fleeting kiss before pulling backwards from his face, savouring the way his eyes snap open wide with shock and the way his upper body all but catapults upwards on his forearms when your hand reaches behind to finally grasp hold of his weeping cock. He barely has time to choke down on his words as you rise to angle your hips before you sink down and split yourself open across his lap.

Your eyes roll backwards behind closed lids at the stretch of him. He’s impossibly hot and pulsating within you as your hips settle flush together, his pelvis pushed directly against your clit with the angle. It dawns on you then, amidst the haze of sensuality clouding your thoughts, that you’ll likely never quite get used to the incredible size and strength of him, and that thought excites you more than you thought it possibly could.

You sigh deeply as you give an experimental buck of your hips, the sound tapering off into a moan at the creeping pleasure that licks up your spine from the shallow movement alone. The calloused palm of a hand laces itself with your own, and your eyes crack open to see Rex staring up at you with utter reverence. The borderline slack-jawed expression he sports as gazes over your body promises to turn you bashful with the sincerity of its emotion, of all things.

“You’re beautiful.” His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it and it threatens to sap the final dregs of your bravado from your bones, your dominance faltering to fold in on itself. You counter his praise with another roll of your pelvis, only to whimper as he hits up inside you so perfectly that stars flash behind your vision. Your hands splay out against his chest as you work yourself into a sloppy rhythm, pleasure dictating the pace of your hips. Rex’s free hand slips down your body until the pad of his thumb can swipe against your clit in firm strokes, his ministrations still managing to drag a sob from your throat despite the slight quiver in his wrist.

“Fuck, Rex!” Your words are as broken as the shuddering movement of your hips and Rex’s other hand unfurls itself from your own to support your body as you bounce on his cock. “If you keep - if you keep doing that…”

He’s thrusting up into you now in return, grinding against your cunt so perfectly that you can feel your toes curl. His thighs slap against your own in a way that’s almost obscene, but it's difficult to focus on the sound amidst the way his hands work you in tandem: rubbing tight little circles against your clit with one while the other firmly pulls you down in time with his thrusts.

“It’s ok.” He whispers hoarsely to you, concentration strangling around the pent up affection in his tone. “Let me take care of you - take care of you the way I want to forever.”

The force of your orgasm knocks your head back and drops your mouth open into a silent scream. It ripples through you, catching the breath in your lungs and causing you to flutter around Rex even as you still above him. The increased sensation has him gasping and lunging forwards off of the ground. He pulls you against his chest and holds you tight as his hips stutter up into you harder. The newfound angle catches the both of you off guard and has you warbling his name with a sob, wound tight and shaking through the waves of white-hot pleasure bottoming out within your belly, completely and utterly overstimulated as you chase the light few drops of your release.

Rex follows soon after, yelling out as your walls milk him for everything he has until you slump forward against him. A plea of your name fades into a groan that you echo in time as he releases inside you, his abdomen flexing as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and delight in the way his breath fans across your skin and tingles over your frazzled nerves.

Your limbs buzz with fatigue as you drop your full weight against him, completely sated but exhausted once more. A mewl of a moan shivers from you as Rex shifts beneath you to support your boneless weight and pull you closer within his arms. His breathing has evened out much faster than you thought it capable of, yet he’s currently still clinging to you as though you’ll disappear if he relaxes in full for even a moment. His head rests lightly against your own as you hazily latch on to the exposed stretch of skin next to where your face is situated, slowly but possessively marking his collarbone in a way that has him shivering and tightening his hold on you even further. Your lips and teeth pair to stain him with a wordless contract that mirrors the one that decorates your own décolleté.

You are mine and I am yours.

The sun casts warmly into the entity of the cave now and you know that soon you’ll need to begin your journey back to Obi-Wan and the others, or at the very least contact them with the reassurance that you are both still alive. But alas, your mind is foggy with the lull of your afterglow, and as Rex begins to massage the aching expanse of your back and hips you find your thoughts occupied solely on the Captain once again. You smile, love-sick and dopey and so grateful that he can’t see your expression from where you’ve melted against his neck.

Though the rumbling chuckle that sounds throughout his chest and the twitch of his jaw against the crown of your head makes you realise that he most certainly felt it.

Surely the Jedi could bear to wait a few extra hours at least.

You certainly needed the time to formulate a stream of excuses for the state of you both, if nothing else.

#captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex #rex x reader #clone wars reader insert #OK I will let this man rest now #mine #rex

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blooeyedtroll · 3 years

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Home on the Range

Rated PG-13ish Lolz. For occasional cussing and maybe innuendos(?). Lolz. This can also be read on Ao3. Feel free to read it there if you prefer.

More art scattered though out this fic, hope you like it!

Hello friend! Welcome!

This is a One shot fic that takes place in mine & @messybitch802 ‘s :

Efflorescence AU.

This is the beginning of our tale, I hope you enjoy.

This is in Hickory’s POV. I thought this would be a fun way to introduce Bloo and Messy. It also seemed fitting since Hickory will play a larger part as our tale unfolds.

However, I’d like to think this could be enjoyed as a fun one-shot Hickory & Dickory fic as well. This fandom needs more Yodel Brothers content!

Big thanks to @jade-green-butterfly and her random ask that kicked my butt in gear, giving me the inspiration to finally start writing:

Anyway, let’s get to it. Enjoy!:

HOME ON THE RANGE

"Rock Trolls... no doubt about that.”

The rugged, orange haired Troll put down his hammer and stepped away from the task at hand. Fence work could wait. This needed his immediate attention. Around this time of day he'd expect to see, at most, a tumbleweed passing by the entrance to the Ranch. Maybe. Nobody ever came out this way. Not since he'd been here anyway. At a good clip, it was about an hour trek away from Lonesome Flats. Which suited his needs perfectly.

The perfect place to lay low and still blend in.

"Bist du sicher?" whispered a muffled voice behind him.

"Of course I am. Now hush, I'm gonna check it out. Stay in character. An’ be ready, just in case."

The orange haired Troll patted the front of his jeans, freeing them of a satisfying amount of dust from the day’s hard work and checked his reflection in a nearby trough. Grinning as he placed a straw of wheat that was kept in the brim of his hat; between his teeth.

Perfection.

Who would guess otherwise, that the reflection in that water, was anything but a genuine Country Troll?

It took a lot of work shopping, trial and error, but he did it.

Well, they did it. The four legged, rugged, handsome, Country Troll was in actuality...two Trolls.

Two brothers to be precise.

Yodel Trolls by the names of Hickory and Dickory.

The last Yodel Trolls by their accounts, and they happened to be the best damn team of Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all of Trolldom.

For good reason.

The best tool to their disposal was their ability to blend in. So much so, it was only until it was “too late” for their marks, by the time their true colors were revealed. And this disguise has been their best yet.

Hickory, though the youngest brother, was the much taller of the two. So he was the face to this particular get-up. Making Dickory to be left with the tail end. Literally. Understandably, this was not ideal for him.

And he definitely made it well known on many occasions how he felt about having to play a literal “horse’s ass”.

But by gum, was he the best ass you could ask for.

At this point, Dickory had mastered the art of synchronizing with Hickory's movements, in such a way, it was now practically impossible to spot anything amiss. It was as if they shared one mind while under the guise of this centaur-esk being.

And while Dickory was fairly sour about the whole situation, Hickory found himself more and more, fond of living day to day as a Country Troll. Very much so to his brother’s shagrin. The look, the music, the lifestyle...everything.

It had been two months now since the brothers found themselves here, in Country Music territory. However, last anyone on the outside had heard about them, was that they had "yodelled so hard, an avalanche fell on them"...or something? Which was just what they wanted. For the time being anyway.

The brothers had struck a deal with their last mark.

For his freedom, he was to spread said rumor, so the Yodelers could lay low for a while.

Queen Barb, of the Hard Rock Trolls, was no stranger to the two brothers. As a matter of fact, she was one of their most frequent clients for the past few years. Which suited them just fine. Well, almost. The last few jobs they did for the young Queen, left a bitter taste in Hickory's mouth. Not so much for the tasks she asked of them, but because of something she said and what he saw on their last few visits to Volcano Rock City. Maps. Marked up. Plans of some sort. Hanging everywhere. The young ruler, looking the most tired he'd ever seen her, yet looking as if ready to burst from being too tightly wound, at any moment.

"Hopefully next time I see you dudes, one way or another, we'll all be singing to a different tune. It's gonna be so Rad."

Whatever was going on, both Yodelers agreed that it was definitely not worth getting caught up in. They could just feel it. Deep down. They were hired to track Trolls down and do what needed to do, to get by.

Both of them could be shady characters at times, but they had decent moral compasses to live by. So they told themselves.

That's why the presence of Rock Trolls at this moment made Hickory's blood run cold. Could it be possible somehow, some way, they had been found out? That whatever Queen Barb was up to, she was looking for them? What is it that she’d need them for anyway?

No. Their plan worked perfectly. Blend in as a Country Troll, lay low for a while, only do the occasional "job" when the opportunity presented itself, just until the Queen of Rock cooled her head or went through with... whatever she is planning.

Not a soul knew about Hickory and Dickory being here.

Well.

Unless you counted, July.

Miss July, the owner of the Ranch. A rather interesting Troll.

A Pop-Country Troll. The only mixed genre Troll around these parts. Unlike her four legged, centaur, Country loving neighbors; she walked on two legs... well, hooves. Her appearance could be compared to a more "Satyr" like build, with a perfect blend of both genres in her appearance. The bright colors of a Pop Troll, but the sturdy build of that of a Country Troll.

A Tough, stern older lady-Troll, with a heart of gold.

Running this place all on her own, while tending to her extremely elderly parents.

That's one of the reasons he never expected any visitors here. Nobody in town wanted anything to do with Miss July or her family. Didn't much like associating with “their kind” if they could help it. Though you'd never hear them say it in polite conversation. But that suited Miss July just fine. That's how she liked it. Ever since Miss July and her folks suffered a terrible loss to their family, decades ago, she rarely went into town if she could help it.

Which on one such occasion, is when she stumbled upon the Yodelers, in their first attempts at putting together their “Country Persona”.

They had been camping not too far from her Ranch and the Town, when she found them both, struggling to even walk in time together, in a pair of poorly made four legged pants.

July took their word as Gospel. That they were just fulfilling a lifelong dream of wanting to, in some way, be a Country Troll. So she offered them a place to stay and to show them the ropes on what it meant to be a Country Troll. If they agreed to work for her at her family’s Ranch.

"Until you feel you can stand on yer own four hooves!' She teased.

It could be easily wagered that July being an outcast in her own community, could be a factor of sympathy she felt towards them, making her wanting to help any way she could, and possibly what made her not judgmental in the least. That, and as tough as she put herself on as, she was sweet as apple pie, through and through.

Which did make Hickory especially, feel guilty about not being more upfront with her. As much as he could be anyhow.

Especially so, when the occasional “job opportunity" presented itself around Lonesome Flats during the Yodelers free time. Turns out, there were plenty of Trolls who had a bone to pick with others, or needed matters settled around these parts. Not to mention, crooks-a-plenty to turn in.

But both brothers always repented. By being very diligent working for Miss July on the Ranch. Anything she needed done, got done. It was the least they could do for what she had done for them for these last two months. So the last thing needed was for anything to get ugly around here.

As Hickory approached closer and closer, he could feel his brother tensing up.

"Easy.” He whispered under his breath, smirking, patting behind him in attempts to calm his hotheaded companion. While still maintaining a nonchalant and calm demeanor.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Volcano Rock City for past jobs, and even on several occasions for other clients; needing to spend time incognito as Rock Trolls, it was fairly easy to recognize them from afar.

Upon closer inspection, it did come across as rather curious to see them wearing Country attire. They couldn't be trying to blend in, could they?

No. Not by the way these two held themselves.

One Troll in various shades of blue in appearance, the other in peculiar shades of green from toe to tip. Both faces, still covered by wide brimmed hats. The blue Troll's demeanor was nervous right from the jump. Their green companion, holding them by the hand, grounding them. As if to keep them from sprinting away at a moment's notice. Both looking tired from the trek they must have taken from town to get to the Ranch property and from the sun's unforgiving afternoon rays.

Nothing but what seemed to be electric guitars and simple backpacks on their backs. However, these were definitely the most impressive guitars Hickory had seen in all his life.

The blue Troll’s, from what he could make out, was sage in color and looked as if it was made of some large critter's battered wing. Almost bat or reptilian in nature. The green Troll’s guitar, an imposing, venomous violet, crafted by what could only could be guessed as being once the claw and stinger of some scorpion-type critter. One he certainly wouldn't want to tango with.

Lackeys of Queen Barb’s? No... couldn't be.

"Nobody knows we're here"

"We've been so careful."

He repeated over and over to himself. Almost mantra-like. He really had no reason to be this paranoid he kept reminding himself.

“Who are the most feared Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all Trolldom?”

“The Yodel brothers. That's who.” He smirked at that last thought. Puffing his broad chest a bit more, in response to his inner pep-talk.

And no Troll, no matter now--

"H--Howdy!" The blue Troll, clearing their voice, shakily called out.

"Right fine day, isn't it?"

The traveler seemed to ease into the drawl like putting on an old pair of comfy shoes, and with each word, their confidence seemed to boost. Stepping forward from their green companion, they removed their wide brim hat and gandered up at Hickory, with a small smile that damn near made his heart leap through his throat. In a good way?

That was...unexpected.

His usual quick witted mind and tongue, on the spot turned into a train that just left the station.

Those eyes. Absolutely pierced him right through. Large, inquisitive, pale, cerulean eyes. Staring right at him under dark lashes, and surrounded by a cascade of cobalt freckles.

The closest shade of color he could compare those eyes to were a color he hadn't thought of in ages. Snow. Snow that as a Trolling he played in. Usually when you found yourself making forts or laying in heeps that came up so high, you would look, and you'd catch the glimmering sunlight, shining through it. A shade of blue that just melted you to the core and drew out a smile, without you being the wiser.

"Right fine.” he responded. Recovering from his wandering mind.

No time to be side tracked by an adorable, freckled, blue-eyed Troll. With sweet, curvy features, who has solid looking muscles that look they could easily crush--

"How can I help you? You folks seem a bit far away from home. Don't get a lot of Rock Trolls around these parts.”

Thank goodness his voice seemed to be the one on track; at the task at hand.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

The green Troll stepped forward, hotly, removing their own hat, as to glare directly at him. Sizing him up. Only a tad taller, but much more lithe in figure to their companion. Definitely much more fierce. Not just in attitude, but in appearance. Their eyes, deep as sapphires. Teeth, the bottom row protruding two large tusk-like lower canines. Ears, pointed back and just as sharp as their claws, which he found himself one the other end of, being pointed at. Just as he felt his hair prickle, preparing himself for what was bound to happen next, the tension was immediately neutralized.

"It's okay Mess” The blue Troll cooed, calming the green one.

"Sorry to just come on over uninvited, but uh, does a Troll named July still live here?"

"You mean Miss July? Sure does. Why, if You don't mind my askin’?"

"Well you see, she's my... can--can I please talk to her? If she's around here today?”

A good long pause washed over the three.

Hickory could feel the trepidation radiating from Dickory behind him as he swished "their tail' in annoyance. Normally, if this was any other situation, it'd be too bad for these two. He'd send them right on their way, or worse if it came to it. They seemed capable. They had guitars, they were Rock Trolls. Random Rock Trolls, showing up, asking for not himself or his brother, but Miss July. Out of all the Country Trolls in Lonesome Flats.

But the waves of anxiety radiating from this freckled Troll were massive; and when their friend wasn't staring daggers at his direction, they were gazing so tenderly and sympathetically at them. These weren't agents of Queen Barbs. These seemed like folks on a sad mission of delivering news, or something of the like. They looked as though this was the last place they would ever want to be.

Dickory always insisted that Hickory was too quick to let his heart think first before his head when it came to their line of work. He didn't see it that way though. Hickory thought himself a good judge of character. Hell, that's why they found themselves in this situation now. Tipping his hat in a friendly manner, he smiled at the two.

"Well, why dontcha follow me then. I'm sure Miss July is making lunch right about now. You folks are just in time. Name's Hickory"

"Messy." replied the green.

The blue Troll remained silent.

"Adorabull got yer tongue cutie?" he teased

Those freckled cheeks lit up in seconds, a flushed lavender. Too cute.

"Somethin' like that' They smiled sheepishly.

All the while, as Hickory walked with the two up to the main building on the property, they stuck to idle chit-chat. About the weather or the nearby town. They passed by many of the fences that housed just some of Miss July's critters. As well as a few stables, paddocks, a decent sized workshed, and the small house the Yodelers had been staying in since they arrived here. It was once they passed that particular building, the blue Rocker stopped in their tracks momentarily. Just staring. Almost trance-like. They only moved again once Messy had firmly grabbed their hand and they followed.

Finally, they reached the main building's porch. The family home. Without any prompting, the two travelers waited at the bottom steps of the porch. Hickory nodded, thinking that might be best. He walked up to the open door. The wafting aroma of today's lunch filling his nostrils. Chili with sweet rolls? If he wasn't mistaken, he could smell fresh squeezed lemonade too. Knowing better to barge in while she was in the Kitchen...

"Pardon me, Miss July?" he called out.

"Dammit Hic, I told ya once, I'll tell ya again. Lunch is on when I ring the damn bell, that's when it’s good and ready!"

Hickory couldn't help but chuckle. That July was a firecracker.

"It's got nothin' to do with that Miss. You see, You've got yourself some visitors."

"For the last time Hic, just call me Jul--"

July emerged from the doorway, holding in each hand a glass of lemonade with mint garnish. No doubt as something to appease the Yodelers until lunch was done. As soon as her eyes met the two travelers, she stopped dead in her tracks. Glaring at them something fierce.

"These two are the visitors I was talkin' about."

"Rock Trolls, huh? Here? Whaddya want?"

The blue traveler, clearing their throat, voice cracking; they smiled, eyes glazed and sparkling with unshed tears. Staring at July as if a secret wish had been granted.

"Aunty Ju-Ju? It's m-me. It's Bloo. I'm home."

Bloo? That Bloo? Could it really be? Hickory didn't need to dwell on that too long though. July suddenly yelped out loud, in such a way that it startled absolutely everyone. Including herself apparently because those glasses in her hands dropped and shattered to bits.

"You couldn't be-- w-what kind of game are ya playin’ at?!"

July at a loss for words. This was serious. There she stood, knees buckling, lip quivering, tail thrashing. Unable to look away from the Troll in front of them at the end of her porch. A look of torment across their face.

Slowly, the freckled Troll smiled sadly, and reached behind their back for their instrument. Hickory acted quickly, putting himself between the two. Staring intently at the Rocker. They stared back, as they slowly brought the instrument forward.

"Please. Let me play?"

Hickory's nostrils flared, biting down hard on the straw in his mouth. How was he so stupid? Well, he wouldn't be fooled this time.

*~strum~*

Though the guitar was imposing and electric, with a stroke of their hand, it played a long, twangy, unmistakable, Country cord.

Silence.

Laying a hand on Hickory's shower, July gently moved him aside, her attention almost trance-like on the player. Waiting.

As if they understood, they shifted and picked up their guitar in earnest. Strumming again, but to a much more upbeat melody. Much more upbeat than most Country music Hickory had heard around town that he grew to enjoy. This sounded more... Pop? Much more like something he'd hear July singing on a day she was in a particularly good mood. Or something July’s elderly mother, the Pop Troll of the family might hum.

That's when they began to sing along, starting off slowly and gaining strength with each note. A large smile on their face as tears cascaded down their round cheeks. As if putting on the show of their lives. It was raw, and beautiful.

"She loves rock ‘n’ roll,

they said it's demons’ tongue,

She thinks they're too old.

They think she's too young,

And the battle lines are clearly drawn.”

“She's a wild one,

with an angel's face,

She's a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy's knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She's a wild one.

Runnin' free."

“She has future plans,

and dreams at night,

they tell her life is hard,

she smiles, sayin’ “that’s alright”, yeah!”

“She’s a wild one,

With an angel’s face,

She’s a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy’s knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She’s a wild one.

Runnin’ free.”

"She's a wild one”~~

"~~Runnin' free.” July finished and sobbed the last line.

"That was the song I wrote for your Mama... all them years ago..My Bloo. My little ‘Bloo-Jay’ came home!"

Hickory stood fully aside now, allowing the two to embrace, for what he now had realized had been the first time in more than two decades. An embrace that both warmed and broke your heart, all at the same time. This was July's pride and joy. Her niece. Bloo, the only child of July's older sister June.

June and July were extremely close sisters. Best friends even.

June was a very free spirited Troll who fancied herself a part-time singer at one of the local bars in town. On one of these trips to town, she met a traveling Rock Troll by the name of Ziggy. Busking for food and drink. Let's just say, it didn't take long at all until wedding bells were ringing and Ziggy was part of the happy family here on the Ranch. The couple waited a while before having a Trolling. The two were busy enjoying married life, Ziggy took June traveling, fulfilling her dreams of seeing life outside Lonesome Flats. And wherever they went, they were singing up a storm. When they returned home to settle down, at any bar or club, or bingo hall that would have them, they continued singing their hearts out. Occasionally even dragging July along. The three of them became inseparable. Especially after Bloo was born. The townsfolk even seemed to warm up to the entire, oddball family. It was all turning up roses for the family finally, after what felt like ages of trying to live in harmony. But it all came to a crushing end.

Shortly after Bloo turned five years old, a serious, contagious illness spread throughout Lonesome Flats. Most folks who caught it, eventually recovered, but there were eight fatalities in the end. June was one of them. The family was torn to pieces by June’s passing. Ziggy just wasn't the same Troll after. A year passed and just as they thought things might slowly start looking up, Ziggy and Bloo were gone.

Apparently he had packed himself and Bloo up one night, and just left without a word. July knew he had family back home in Volcano Rock City, and figured that is where he would take Bloo to raise them. But July dared not go there. For good reason. A Pop-Country Troll, travel to Volcano Rock City? Demand her niece back from a heartbroken father? While leaving her extremely elderly parents to fend for themselves? No. July would be turned away or torn to pieces. King Thrash at the time was feared for good reason in those days and most Trolls feared Rock Trolls the most out of all the other Tribes.

July and her folks basically moved on by learning to mourn the loss of June, Bloo, and Ziggy. They never expected to ever see Bloo or Ziggy again. Yet here Bloo was. Embracing their aunt, while Hickory and Messy looked on fondly. His smile grew wider as he realized how overjoyed July's folks: Clay and May, would be to see their grand-baby again. Something they thought they'd never live to see.

He could see it now that he got a better look at Bloo, as they were bombarded with kisses and hugs, that they did share a little resemblance to their Pop-Country Aunt. Though without a doubt, they took after their father Ziggy the most. No wonder Bloo wasn't easily recognizable at first glance, they looked so different in comparison to how they looked back then as a Trolling.

Who would have thought that he'd meet the Troll who's childhood pictures adorned the home he and his brother were staying in? Which happened to be Bloo's Old family home on the Ranch. The same house they had stopped to stare at on their way to the main house.

"Small world we live in!” He barked with laughter.

"Welcome home Miss Bloo, glad to meetcha." And he meant it, whole heartedly.

"Glad to be home again.”

END.

(Song used was Faith Hill’s ‘Wild One’. Tweaked for this story)

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clareguilty · 3 years

Text

For @arthurspussy and @verai-marcel hello this was supposed to be short and i guess it is but it still got away from me a little bit

Monster Hunter!Arthur Morgan&Monster!reader

Arthur sighed and refilled the oil in his lantern. He hated hunting in caves. It was too easy to get lost, or crushed by falling rocks, or suffocate to death in some old mine shaft.

But the bounty had led him here. The folks downstream claimed a beast had been picking them off one by one. Something huge with claws and teeth and all the usual parts. Arthur doubted it was anything as monstrous as they claimed, but he couldn’t turn down the money or the people in need.

The bodies had indeed been grisly. Bloody and ripped to shreds and half-fed upon. Whatever it was, Arthur would take care of it.

A strange set of tracks had led him here, to the small mouth of a cave that disappeared into the hillside. He couldn’t tell how deep it went, but it was worth checking out. He had a rope, his guns, a knife, a lantern, and more courage -- or perhaps foolishness -- than anyone around for miles.

The floor of the cave was soft, sandy dirt. Plenty of creatures came and went through here from the looks of it. It grew dark quickly, and he didn’t hesitate to light his lantern. The flickering shadows of the stalagmites didn’t bother him.

As he rounded a bend, he heard a frantic skittering sound disappearing further down the tunnel. He had spooked something.

Pressing forward, he saw the same strange tracks, deep claw marks in the earth where whatever it was had run from the light. Arthur drew his revolver. He moved slower, listening closely in the dark.

He heard the skittering again a little ways farther. Something was definitely running from him. Turning the lamp down low, he shuffled forward. Whatever was in the darkness moved back.

Pulling back the hammer on his revolver, Arthur raised the gun, turning up the lantern light as he moved forward. Firing inside the cave would make his ears ring for sure, but he wasn’t about to fight whatever this thing was with just his knife.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” a voice cried out. It was soft and high, but raspy. Arthur nearly stumbled when he heard it.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

“Please don’t shoot,” the voice pleaded again. “I haven’t done anything. I promise.”

“Show yourself.”

Slowly, the creature stepped forward. Certainly not human. It had long claws; huge, dark eyes; long, gangly limbs that clambered across the cave floor. Arthur didn’t lower his gun.

“You can speak?” he asked, disbelieving. Of all the monsters he had faced, very few could speak, and even none of those could beg for their life.

“I spend a lot of time watching humans. But I’ve never hurt anyone.” The creature was shy, drawing away from the light of the lantern.

“Then who killed those folks down the river?” Arthur wasn’t sure it was a good idea to blindy trust whatever this thing was, but it looked sort of pitiful.

“A mangy grizzly that just came down here after winter. Damn thing needs to go back up north.” The creature grimaced and Arthur caught a look at a set of sharp fangs. “These were my woods.”

“You don’t eat people? What do you eat?”

“I’m not very good at hunting,” the creature looked sad. “Mostly fish and coyotes. I stole a chicken once but it was too many feathers.”

Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ve met lots of monsters, but never one who didn’t know how to hunt.”

“I could show you where the grizzly is,” the creature said earnestly. “His den isn’t too far from here.”

It was an interesting proposition. If this creature was trustworthy, then he could track the grizzly and take that back to the townsfolk. “What about you?” Arthur asked.

“I’ll be fine. You’re the only human that’s managed to find me.”

“You show me where this grizzly is, and I’ll help you learn to hunt.”

The creature looked shocked. “You would do that? Even though I’m... this?”

Arthur shrugged. “You aren’t hurting anyone, are you?”

It shook it’s head adamantly. “Never.”

“Then lead the way.”

“What’s your name?” Arthur asked as he watched the creature pick its way through the forest. It was... clumsy. Tripping over it’s claws and ducking between branches.

“I don’t have one.”

“Hm,” Arthur frowned. “You should choose one. Need something to call you.”

The creature stopped, tilting it’s head to the side and blinking slowly. “I’ll have to think of one.” Arthur ignored the way the creature stared at him after that, as though it were trying to figure something out.

They made camp after dark, sitting awkwardly around a fire. The creature helped as best it could, watching Arthur carefully as he stoked the flames and set up camp. He pulled items from his satchel, cleaning his weapons and repacking his gear.

“Humans always have so much stuff. I wish I could have stuff like them.”

It was Arthur’s turn to consider for a long while. “You can have stuff. I’d imagine you may have to, um, steal a few things. But if you wanted things you could have them.”

“I don’t like stealing.” The creature frowned.

“Of course you don’t,” Arthur laughed. “I’d bet you’re a better man than I am.”

“What do you mean?” The creature asked.

“I’ve done many bad things. Cruel, terrible things. I’m no good. But you- you’re naturally kind. It comes easy to you.”

“I don’t find it very easy,” the creature dragged it’s claws through the dirt, watching the fire with a pout.

Arthur nodded, smiling softly.

The creature was right about the grizzly. Mangy and enormous and mad as all hell. Arthur had killed greater beasts than that, though.

“I’ll take the pelt to the folks down the river. But you’re welcome to the meat and the bones.”

“Thank you.”

“And... here.” Arthur handed the creature a bundle tied in canvas. “A few things for you.”

“For... me?”

“You said you wanted stuff,” Arthur shook the bundle. “This oughta get you started.“

The creature carefully unwrapped the parcel. It was just a few small trinkets and some supplies, but it meant everything.

“Thank you.”

The creature watched as Arthur rode away, back down the river.

#monster hunter!arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan/reader

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songofsoma · 4 years

Text

A Chance Meeting

31 days of wayhaven | day 17: au

a scene from @rosejellyy, @aelwen-art, and i’s au blades of dawn :)

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: nora bishop x iris lee x cecilia beck word count: 1,750 rating: general

read it on ao3

Her eyes opened with a groan.

Everything hurt. There were muscles she didn’t know she had that ached.

The sound of bowls clanking together and a soft humming pulled Nora back to reality. She tore her eyes away from the dark ceiling, the fog creeping out of the edges of her vision.

Her head fell to the side as she surveyed her surroundings. She had no idea what she was up against. The last thing she remembered was falling to the ground next to the unconscious knight she had been fighting.

The knight in question appeared in her vision.

Nora sat up quickly, her head spinning.

Hands grasped desperately at her belt, fingers wrapping around the hilt of her dagger, metal singing as it was drawn. But before she could plunge the blade into the sleeping figure, a silent force stopped her hand.

“Hasn’t anyone told you that it is incredibly rude to draw weapons in other people’s homes?” A voice called.

Panic was surging through her veins. She couldn’t move her limbs.

It all clicked.

She was in the house of a witch—a powerful one at that.

Memories came flooding back: the wind whipping across her cheeks, the trees seeming to part around an approaching figure, the feeling that she could barely breathe. It had been magic.

Nora hated magic. It made her skin itch.

The woman was ethereal in the dim light of the candles, the lines of her body silhouetted beneath the sheer dress she wore. Gods, she could see every damned curve.

As she grew closer, bare feet padding against the wooden floors, Nora could begin to make out the features of her face.

Warm brown skin harbored an intoxicating smile, complimenting the amused twinkle in the depth of her dark gaze. She was quite short but was at an advantage to where Nora sat up on the makeshift cot. Bending down so her face hung inches away from hers, her fingers wrapped around her jaw, forcing her head to turn in her direction.

“Now if I free you, do you promise to be a good girl?” Her smile transformed into a smirk as she tugged the dagger free from Nora’s grip. “Otherwise, I think I shall make you a new piece of décor. You would make such a pretty statue I must say.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She struggled with a small nod.

The witch pulled away and Nora found herself a bit regretful at the loss of her touch. Thorns of magic released her from their grip. She was able to move again.

Her gaze scoured the room once more.

A variety of dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling, seemingly filling every inch, and leaving no hint of the wooden beams beneath. The room they were in was small. Most of the space was littered with books, spell jars and bottles, and more plants cutting through the earthy tones with their lively greens. A few more rooms were hidden by old wooden doors. Nora had to pause and wonder how they managed to stay up.

The witch had turned her back to Nora and had resumed her humming. Long tendrils of hair, the color of rich soil, spilled down her back, reaching just above her waist. Her fingers ached to touch it.

A sweet aroma was beginning to drift over from where she stood. Nora was not kept waiting much longer for a steaming cup of tea was offered to her.

She stared at it tentatively before her eyes flicked up to the witch’s face.

“It’s not poisoned,” she sighed. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered dragging you both to my home. You’re lucky I let you keep your armor for it made you both significantly heavier.” A hint of irritation colored her tone.

Nora wordlessly took the cup, straining to tear her eyes away from the addictive gaze that threatened to swallow her whole.

But she found it impossible not to follow her.

The witch paused beside the knight, bending down to whisper something inaudible into her ear. A few moments later, drowsy dark eyes blinked open.

“That’s it, sweetness,” she cooed, helping the girl sit up.

Nora stared at them wordlessly. For once in her life, she felt helpless and vulnerable. Iron and silver were useless against a forest witch. She had heard tales of such beings but never expected to meet with one face-to-face. Although, in the horror stories told to her by the elders, forest witches were something out of nightmares with monstrous claws, skin falling off the bone, and needles for teeth. The image used to keep her awake at night when she was a child.

“Something on your mind, my hunter?”

She bristled back at the pet name. It only widened the woman’s smirk.

“That is what you are, is it not?” She purred, pressing her knee onto the edge of the rickety cot.

Nora couldn’t find the words to answer her question as she leaned down, the ends of her hair tickling her face. She was struggled to continue to meet her eyes for the already sheer fabric of her dress dipped lower.

Warm fingers trailed over her cheekbone. “Truly a shame. I do enjoy watching you use that pretty little mouth of yours to try and wiggle your way out of problems.” The witch’s thumb brushed her bottom lip so lightly, Nora wasn’t even sure she had done it.

“Who are you?” Was the only thing her mind could pull together as the intoxicating woman pulled away.

She was gifted with a lovely smile. “I have many names. The Witch in the Woods, the Forest Guardian, sometimes hag by those who are feeling quite bold,” she laughed at the joke meant only for herself. “But you may call me by my given name, Cecilia.”

“Cecilia,” her lips wrapped around each syllable, savoring the way the name sounded on her tongue.

“What are you going to do to us?” A panicked voice sounded from beside her. She had almost forgotten the knight’s presence.

The humorous quirk of Cecilia’s lips was back. “Eager I see. I do take requests.”

Deep brown eyes grew bigger as she looked the woman up and down, perhaps she was sizing her up.

For the first time, Nora had the chance to study the appearance of her opponent.

Dread filled her once more upon realizing her beauty.

Delicate features sat upon porcelain skin, mirroring the sweetness of her voice. Eyes, so dark they were nearly black, held a mixture of anger and fear. Unlike Nora, a significant amount of her armor had been removed. Hints of a thick, white bandage could be seen peeking out from the loose collar of her undershirt.

An odd pang of guilt shot through her upon noticing it. She quickly turned her gaze away.

Why should she feel sorry? This woman was her enemy.

Still, Nora hadn’t realized she had truly wounded her.

“If you plan on killing me, I would rather you get it over with.” The knight complained, wincing as she shifted.

“Why is the first thing travelers’ minds go to is that I want to kill them?” Cecilia huffed, crossing the small room to busy herself with a bunch of flowers waiting to be dried. “Have none of you ever been taught manners? Especially you,” she turned to point at the knight who curled on herself at the attention. “Someone of noble birth should know to at least introduce themselves to their host.”

“How do you know I come from nobility?” The question was almost accusatory.

Rolling her eyes, her fingers began to bundle the flowers together. “Your sigil is on your breastplate, sweetness. House Lee, if I am not mistaken”

The knight said nothing. She only looked away, pretending to study a ginger cat sunning itself in one of the windows.

“For a forest witch, you’re quite familiar with human affairs,” Nora snapped.

She raised a shaped brow. “‘Tis a matter of my survival. I have not lived in these woods for centuries without knowing what goes on in the world around it—that would make me a fool.”

Centuries.

The thought made Nora’s stomach churn.

“Now, if neither of you has anything more to accuse me of, I have duties to attend to. I shall allow you two to rest.” Cecilia dropped her task back onto the counter, making her way to the door. “Oh, and please don’t kill each other, Lucius will be very unhappy with you both.” She gestured to the corner of the room to where a large, scrupulous wolf she hadn’t noticed before was watching them closely.

The knight squeaked in sudden fear, scrambling away, breath hitching from jostling her injuries.

Nora’s jaw hung open as she looked at the beast.

“Worry not, he only bites when he must!” And with a bell-like giggle, she disappeared out the door and into the forest beyond.

They were quiet for a long time, both of them staring warily at the wolf. The animal, however, seemed entirely unbothered by them as he laid his giant head back onto his paws, eyes drooping from boredom.

“What do we do?”

Nora’s gaze slid over to the rigid figure of the knight, watching as she wildly began to pat her waist.

“My sword, she took my sword!”

“Yes, she took my weapons as well,” Nora grumbled.

She chewed at her bottom lip and Nora was unable to keep her eyes off of the small movement. Luckily, the other woman did not seem to notice. “Should we run?”

“I doubt we’d get far.”

She rubbed a hand over her forehead in thought, skin smeared with dirt and blood from their earlier scuffle. “Then I suppose we have no choice than to wait for the witch’s return.” Her eyes shut as she sank back into the furs with a defeated look. “Surely my mother will notice my absence and come looking.”

Nora snorted. “Fantastic, just what we need so she can execute me immediately.” Venom coated each of her words carelessly.

“It’s better than your people raiding this hut!” She protested, eyes flying open once more. “Pillaging this entire forest while they are at it!”

She pursed her lips, looking away from her. “Then I guess we will wait, preferably in silence.”

“Fine.” The knight crossed her arms, pouting like a child.

Just like that, Nora decided she was not sorry she had wounded the girl after all.

#blades of dusk #31 days of wayhaven #31daysofwayhaven #twc #nora x iris x cecilia #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven #wayhaven au #oc: cecilia beck #nora bishop #iris lee #twc fanfic #wayhaven fanfic #my writing #whc #rosejellyy #aelwen #aelwen-art #au

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talesofsonicasura · 4 years

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Unappreciated Hunter

A Monster Hunter encounters Hat Kid and helps her out. Didn't know he was going to get dragged into her weird life.

Kokoto, the village of strong and tough Monster Hunters. The citizens can be quite pushy to traveling hunters and at higher levels when it revolves around ex guild hunters. Any hunter from Kokoto would judge and mock any fellow warrior 'not worth their salt'. Even the Felyne that runs the cafetine there is quite rude.

Yet, it was the only place to acquire certain materials or ingredients which is important for any that travels in monster infested lands. Items that couldn't be found anywhere else. After all it was also a popular merchant village, considering the village chief was a retired Legendary Hunter. Guess the high standards considering hunters was slightly justified.

"...And fuck you too! Go kiss a Congala's ass if that's how you treat your customers!" Angry swearing was also guaranteed as a white haired man stormed out of a shop in rage. Long silver locks tied into a wild ponytail, tannish skin balanced by lean yet rock hard muscle, eyes were a bright blue highlighted by black stripe outlines, and stood at an intimidating 7'2 in height.

His clothes consisted of a long beige winter coat with blue and red triangle patterned cuffs alongside large cotton ball looking buttons, beige long trousers with white puffy cuffs, black hiking boots made out of some sort of reptilian hide and white fur gloves. In his hand was a woven straw basket filled with fruit, cheeses, spices and herbs.

The man let an aggravated sigh before trying to cool his temper. "Come on Kahtal. Don't let that asshat get to you. Plus Nekona those need the ingredients and getting blacklisted from every shop went help." He or Kahtal said rubbing his hand against the side of his head. He took a deep breath and continued to the next vendor.

Well, he would if a soft sparkle of light hadn't grabbed his attention. This tinge of light was a mystifying soft blue and looked to be near the Hero Shrine by the village's oldest tree. Curiosity getting the best of him, he walked over to the odd phenomenon awarely ignorant to disapproving glances from some of the village hunters.

The Hero Shrine was essentially a tree that held the Hero's Shield and the stone before carrying the Hero's Blade. Weapons used by Kokoto's chief to defeat a powerful Elder Dragon known as Lao-Shan-Lung. What really got Kahtal's attention was what sat slightly embedded into the earth a bit far from the shrine.

This item looked like an hourglass, well a very weird hourglass. The glass was crystal clear that sparkled but held no sand in it, the rims that kept it together had two gold beads sandwiching a purple hat shaped and the soft glow that radiated from the very object. It was beautiful and incredibly well crafted from Kahtal's perspective.

"Who could make something like this and where's their owner?" Kahtal picked up the item carefully while speaking his thoughts to himself. One thing he did know was it looked to be very important and not the type of item to be trashed carelessly. Someone clearly lost it. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft 'Hey!'.

The young man looked down to see his leg was being tugged by a little girl. She had soft peach skin paired with curly brown hair in a back ponytail and topped with a purple top hat that had a gold ribbon, bright blue eyes and little nose. She wore a purple shirt with a light gold cape, white trousers and black little shoes. On her back was a light blue umbrella covered in stickers.

"Um, hi there. Sorry I didn't notice you." Kahtal said with a sheepish look on his face. The peculiar little girl let out a tiny giggle before nodding. She then pointed at the hourglass in his hand. The man took a glance at her hat and the hat beads on the hourglass. They were the exact same.

"Does this belong to you? I found it dugged a bit into the ground over there." He pointed at the little hole in the grass. The little girl nodded heavily with a polite smile on her face. Kahtal guessed she was a selective mute as the only word she spoke was 'Hey' in order to get his attention.

"Well, here you go. You're lucky I found it. I don't think any other passerby would have given it back." The young man handed the child the hourglass carefully as to not drop it. She took the peculiar item and hugged it before hugging his leg in appreciation. Kahtal let out a soft chuckle before patting her head.

"I must be going. My friend is waiting for me outside the village with these groceries. Take care." The little girl nodded at his words before whispering a soft quiet 'thank you'. Both went their separate ways and Kahtal's mood was much better after that.

The next time he saw the little girl or the fact he met her again at all was in the worst place a child should never be. There are places in this monster filled world that normal people aren't allowed to travel alone. Only ones who could were merchants, caravans and most highly monster hunters. Kahtal was the latter of this group.

A mission was sent to his personal home by a messenger Kinsect. The client wanted him to gather some Coal from an area known as the Volcanic Hollow. A large string of caverns found within a monstrous supervolcano. The intense heat in the deeper sections made it a cozy home for all sorts of deep dwelling monsters and perfect place to gather ores.

It looked like a simple quest but these types of missions usually had something dangerous causing problems in the background. A pretty accurate assumption to make as there was a Subquest at the bottom. An extra piece of mission that was optional for the Hunter but meant extra pay if taken.

This particular Subquest was asking for him to stop a Uragaan who was causing a ruckus down there. Uragaan also known as the Burst Hammer Wyvern, a large Brute Wyvern that can create powerful tremors by slamming its armored jaw into the ground and rolling over any foolish creature to aggravate it. Their diet consisting of ores made it dangerous for any miner who accidentally runs into one.

Gathering supplies to keep him properly cool in the hotter areas were necessary since having a heatstroke in a volcano was the worst way to go. Once preparations were made and gear was set, the hunter set off to Volcanic Hollow. Dealing with the Burst Hammer Wyvern was the first thing needed to be done before even thinking of digging for coal.

This definitely wasn't a place normal people should travel through. A simple thought of a little girl in purple strolling through the lava heated caverns. The interior of a volcano was less lava-y than any she had seen before. First spot to find after jumping down the mouth was a few small conjoining clifftops and some natural hot springs by them.

Only things other than two paths that didn't go deeper down and one that did were the strange green doggy faced creatures munching on whatever plants or mushrooms growing there. They gave her odd looks but just minded their business and continued to graze. Next spot had multiple small lava pools and two were branching paths with one that meant another big jump.

There were some mean reddish snake bird worm things that tried to bite or whack her with their tail. She clobbered them multiple times with her umbrella before they got the hint and ran. This time the child decided to take the side path instead of a large jump. Big mistake on her part.

The room was pretty with a huge amber column at the center that was in a beehive like formation and more smaller red ones that added extra support. Bright sapphire blue crystals and ruby red crystals sticking from the ground in a roundish rectangular form. If only she noticed that the odd growing gold stone on the ground was a monster's tail.

"Aaaaaaah!!!" Echoed the screams of a little girl through a mountainous deep section of the volcano. Tiny stream of water pouring down the cliffs to the large molten ground below shook with the tremors of heavy footsteps. The little purple hatted girl ran across the reddish dirt as a large beast followed her relentlessly.

It was a large reptilian creature that could honestly be mistaken as a dinosaur from the powerful looking legs but underdeveloped tiny arms. Its face was round dark brownish scaled except for its huge orangish color jaw, from its head to the very long rounded tail were large flat topped amber crystals that were positioned in the way tires are to leave tracks, thick muscled legs with sharp claws and bright green eyes that burned with rage.

The 25 ft tall brute looked a bit beaten up but the little girl would admit personally that she had nothing to do with it. Of course it didn't matter since the lizard monster was still angry and probably cranky for her poking its tail with an UMBRELLA. If she ever got out of here alive, she would never come back...maybe.

The giant then let out a painted cry as the ground shook hard nearly making the child lose her footing. She flipped around to understand what happened. Giant lizard thing had been slammed to the ground by someone covered in armor and holding what looked to be a sword and shield. The shield part slammed into the mean beast's head.

The armor was a bright crimson with light summer colors such as orange and gold fitted to its feudal samurai look. Chest plate had an orange triangle coming from the bottom as it pointed to two cogs on the separate sides that were connected by a thick white rope, a giant red cape with big fancy and fluffy gold rims, red shield shaped plates covering a gold rim red skilt, red armor gauntlets and boots but the cool thing was the mask.

It was faceless with eye slots but large red horns that went back and curved at the end but also orange along with a large white mane that was in the back. The shield was lustrous ruby with a gold wheel on the surface and a cog with two golden hour hands at the center. And the sword had a crystalline blade that started before ending in a reddish violet at tip and punk looking half gold claw hilt to a silver handle.

Eyes from the helmet looked at her before the masked man pulled his helmet a bit to show Kahtal's face. "You're the little girl I met in Kokoto! How did you get into the Volcanic Hollow?!" He cut off his words when the monster or Uragaan began to move underneath him. The man bashed the beast's head with his shield before getting into its face.

It immediately flinched upon the pair of eyes glaring back into its own. They weren't of a man but of a beast. Bigger, meaner and absolutely powerful. The glare of an Alpha. "You better stay down and don't try anything. So much as harm a hair on that little girl's head then consider your life forfeit. Now sit!" Voice was heavy as steel and the tone brimming with pure dominance.

Uragaan shivered violently before seating itself to the floor once Kahtal stepped off the beast's head. He gave the large brute a glance before sheathing both his blade and shield onto his back. Then the silverette turned to the most impossible thing to run around in a volcano. The little girl who had looks of awe in her eyes now lost it upon the look she was getting from the hunter.

"What are you doing here? This isn't a safe place for people much less little girls. Especially ones that somehow managed to have a Uragaan chase them. The species isn't called Burst Hammer Wyvern for no reason." Kahtal spoke pointing at the specific cowering dragon behind him.

"I wanted to see you! You gave me my Time Piece back so I thought you wanted to be my friend! And I got here from my ship since it said you were somewhere around here." There was a bunch of childish pep and cheer to her voice like it was natural despite the guilty look on her face. Or the fact she was nervously poking her fingers together.

Now he had a lot of questions but knew that the inside of a volcano wasn't the place to discuss it. "Let's talk about it once we're back at the camp on top of the volcano. And you!" The Burst Hammer Wyvern flinched upon Kahtal pointing his finger at the beast. It was still scared at the much smaller human man.

"You are being relocated to an island unreachable to human civilization. A winged companion of mine will be picking you up so stay put! Behave then I'll forget about you trying to trample a little girl and maybe add in some yummier ores than the ones down here." The knowledge of the alpha human forgiving him, a new home and chance of a tasty treat had the Uragaan positively complacent with his current position.

Kahtal took out what looked to be a signal gun before firing a green smoke round into the air. The flare spilling green smoke out into the volcano's entrance paired with a lime like scent. Once that flare was shot, Kahtal picked up the little girl and hoisted her on his back. He then took off ignoring the sound of large flapping wings or the sound of shock in the other room that he left the Uragaan in.

The volcano top had a small makeshift camp settled a good space from the mouth to the heated mountain. A simple tent that provided cover from the sun for a large mattress, two large crates with one blue and the other red, and a few makeshift fence blockades. Kahtal was now looking at the little child with a ludicrous look.

"So your name is Hat Kid, and you're an alien refugee from another world. You came here because a Timepiece, which is the fuel for your ship somehow crashlands in Kokoto village. After I returned it to you, you tried to find me again so I can be your friend and hangout with you." The hunter questioned while holding his helmet in his right hand.

The little girl or Hat Kid sat on the queen sized mattress next to Kahtal while she told him her tale. She was nodding at every inquiry he had got from the hat wearing child. "Normally I treat that kind of stuff as Congala crap if I haven't taken in consideration the evidence. A glowing hourglass with no sand isn't normal, a little girl managing to get into a place that is blacklisted to Low Rank Hunters or the fact you got to one of the deepest levels, and NOT die from lethal heatstroke."

Hat Kid looked a bit sheepish when he brought back her little volcano adventure but was glad he did believe her. Kahtal then stood up from the bed and looked at the alien child. "My friend is taking the Uragaan to a new habitat and won't be back for an hour. Might as well take me to your ship." He did think her insane attempt to find him should at least be rewarded...only this one time.

A big smile grew on her face before she ran over and took his free hand immediately. The older man would admit he didn't expect the both of them to float before shooting off into the sky. They were going up so fast that he saw the darkness of space and the shining stars. And like a light switch, Kahtal wasn't outside the volcano but now in a little girl's very odd bedroom.

The odd things being the sea of pillows a good distance from the bed, lights on the ceiling, glass screen viewing the vacuum of space, odd candles that sit by said pit or the giant burnt noodle reading at the top of the staircase by said pillow sea. "Hey! I heard that!" A sheepish look crossed his face. The last part he accidentally spoke out loud.

The offended noodle had a glowing yellow face found on children's jack o' lanterns: circular eyes and the big childish mouth with two fangs, a mane of dark purple that was the same color as his body, spindly arms that ended with two finger ovenmitts that clearly was hiding claws and a long spindly tail making his height around 20 ft long.

"You know kiddo I don't know what's worse. The fact you brought a pecking knight of all things on board or the fact he was rude to me: the all handsome, powerful and soul eating, Snatcher! It's also really rude to insult the dead." The now named specter or Snatcher said while his last bit was deadpan unlike the bolster before in his distorted echo voice.

Kathal's response to this was a raised eyebrow. "First off, I didn't mean to say that out loud so sorry for that. Second, why tell me that you are a soul eating ghost when I'm a 'knight' to you. And third, the proper term is Monster Hunter not Monster Slayer. Unless your causing trouble on my planet that make people send out a request to hunt you, then I won't stab you with my blade and relocate your hide." The mortal man listed with his fingers and pure nonchalance.

The ghost set aside his book so he wouldn't lose in the sea of bed material before slithering over to the armored man. Size difference between them was now clearer than before but Kahtal still had a passive look on his face. "And don't you have quite a snarky side to ya, kiddo." Snatcher chuckles while Kahtal glared back.

"The name is Kahtal Shinsu and I'm a 32 year old man. I am definitely not a kid because last I checked, children don't have an 7'2 body with an eight pack." The silverette's rebuttal didn't make the ghost's smile go away. It only made it more mischievous looking as the 20 ft noodle laughed.

"And I'm over 300 years old which makes ya a mere baby in comparison. An eight pack huh? Definitely the type of muscle for some dirty work back in my forest!" Snatcher said while placing an arm around the hunter's shoulder in a 'buddy' manner. Hat Kid then tugged on his leg for giving him an inquisitive look.

The 'What were you doing' look obviously wanting to know why he was in the Volcanic Hollow in the first place. "I had a job there. My client wanted me to gather 30 pieces of coal from the volcano. There was a bonus quest to deal with that Uragaan who was chasing my hatted companion here." Spotting what looked to be a chalkboard, Kahtal strolled over to it.

Taking a piece of chalk, he sketched out a fully detailed picture of the mentioned Burst Hammer Wyvern minus the injuries from before, all in the span of a minute and the word Uragaan next to it. Snatcher floated over and looked at the image with interest. "Sure looks like quite a brute! No wonder the kiddo looked ready to drop. Gave her a run for her money! Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!" He then looked at Kahtal.

"This was also an extra part of the current job description? That makes you an even better contractor for me to hire! Honestly there is some work in my domain that needs a more refined touch than Hat Brat there. She has a habit of making quite the mess." The little girl in question gave him a raspberry.

"Well, you'll need to have a request paper ready. Usually I have a Kinsect deliver me jobs to my home since I'm more of a freelance hunter." Kahtal then drew at the bottom of the board a peculiar bug of sorts. It looked like a scarab but the wings and size were wrong.

"Really now? I don't know where you live but I can mark it down if you take this back." The man didn't expect for the ghost's hand to ignite in blue fire. Or that fire to form a dark purple version of what the kinsect he drew but had the same jack o' lantern smile Snatcher has on their wings. Kahtal would mark it to be creation magic.

"This Kinsnatch here will be delivering any jobs I have for ya. And a bit more." The last bit was a whisper before Snatcher put the magic made insect in the hunter's hands. He looked at the odd insect and immediately knew this was going to be trouble.

Lucky thing was he got dropped off the same place he was before allowing his own alien abduction. And his current ride had just returned. Bad news was how damn aggravating that purple ghost was going to be in the future.

Hey everyone! Sorry not updating the blog for quite a bit. Life is crazy and honestly been trying to handle with some changes to my home.

This story is an experimental crossover using Monster Hunter and A Hat in Time. I wanted to try my hand at writing a Monster Hunter fic but also wanted that kind of vibe you get exploring in different chapters like you do for a A Hat In Time.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Stay safe and healthy folks!

This is the armor used and the monster Uragaan!

#crossover #oc #ahit #ahit hat kid #ahit snatcher #snatcher #hat kid #a hat in time #monster hunter #oc hunter #fanfic #uragaan

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slade-neko · 3 years

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Monster Hunter Rise ~ My Thoughts

Oh, man, Monster Hunter Rise, where to begin?! I guess I’ll start with the game itself in a nutshell is a BLAST! It’s not without a few issues I have with it personally, but I’ve been having a lot of fun playing it nonetheless. I want to take the time to mention I am a second generation hunter myself. Started playing Monster Hunter in 2008 with Freedom 2 on PSP at the tender age of 13. So its safe to say I’ve got a lot to say about this game! If you want to read the full thing then here it is.

This review is MOSTLY spoiler-free! There isn’t a lot you can spoil in this game... I mention some endgame stuff and there is a screenshot that contains the final boss’s armor but not focused on it. Just a friendly warning if you are a die-hard spoiler avoider.

The Weapon Types

I’ll start with the fact that the weapon types in MH Rise are all really fun to play and have very well polished movesets. I haven’t extensively played with all the weapon types, but I’d like to say a few things about the ones I have been using. Long Sword feels the best it has ever been in the entire series in my opinion, ironically this game starts you off with a Long Sword equipped too.

I went ham with Long Sword throughout the main story, but now have swapped over to maining Light Bowgun. I was a big Heavy Bowgun main in MH World, but shield spreadshot builds don't feel the same for me as they did in World, but the Light Bowgun in this game shreds. Narga Piercing LBG for distance shooting and then Magnamalo Spread LBG for getting up close and personal. Evade Extender 3 makes zipping around the battlefield a breeze and next to impossible to get hit making it a very fun and rewarding playstyle.

My brother on the other hand has been hitting hard with Long Sword and the new Hunting Horn. He misses the original note playing at times, but the damage on HH is insane and healing constantly with the Rampage Horn is a big plus too for a game with no health regen factors. He’s been building sets for nearly every weapon type, but LS and HH are his two mains. Both weapon types were introduced in 2nd Gen, where we started, so maining those two for him is a bit symbolic. Also the fact that LS has been heralded as the most used weapon-type and HH the least used as of recent games is a neat contrast to use both.

The Characters, Setting, and Story

I know Monster Hunter isn’t exactly known for it’s characters or story, heck most games hardly had a story until World came out. Typically Monster Hunter games follow the simple formula of big bad flagship monster causing problems with local village and ecosystem, hunt it, happy ending?, turns out bigger badder scarier secret boss monster was actually causing the problems, hunt it, true happy ending. Nothing wrong with that, I can roll with whatever story they make, majority of players are here for the gameplay. That said, I still enjoy and appreciate what story the devs put together no matter how it turns out. I liked what Rise offered, nothing too grand like World, more of a simple story following the old games formula.

Surprisingly I haven’t seen many people talk about the characters in this game and the little fact that this is the first time in the ENTIRE SERIES (outside of MH Stories) characters have REAL names! Hinoa, Minoto, Fugen, Yomogi, Iori, Hamon, Rondine, Hojo, Utsushi, like honest to goodness actual NAMES, not “Blacksmith,” “Village Elder,” or “Fish Mongress.” The characters are fun though, nice and memorable, not really annoying. Also following World’s fully voice-acted characters is a nice touch. I sometimes miss the days of old when characters had simple grunts and you read everything, but I doubt that will ever come back now, just something lost to the classic MH games.

Then there’s the super Asian-inspired ninja-like theme to the entire game. You’ll either love it, hate it, or maybe you don’t care about how the village is at all. I like the whole ninja aesthetic while it does work for this game in particular, but I will admit its a little bit weird in the entirety of Monster Hunter as a series.

The Hunts, Gameplay, and Everything Else

Ah yes, the gameplay, the heart of the Monster Hunter games... while yes I do think this game is a lot of fun overall, I do have a few complaints with it... I’m going to break this down into mini-sections because there is a lot to cover here.

Quest Preparations Maybe I’m just old school, but I feel like they took away a lot of the prep work for going on hunts. No cold/ hot drinks, access full inventory on quests, refill items, no longer eat for attack/ def buffs, monsters always visible on maps, no random spawning on High Rank quests, little things like that. In the old games you had to prepare for each hunt, it was part of the game. You go after a big monster, you make sure you got everything you need to win BEFORE you depart on the quest. It feels like they are double-downing more so on just the fighting itself.

Tracking Monsters Monsters aren’t even tracked anymore, they’re always visible on your map. No having to run around and look for them like classic MH games... Though to be fair maybe that’s better off in the old games with the paintball tracking system and individual loaded areas than in a game with a fully open-world setting because I got headaches tracking monsters in MH World’s open-world especially the Ancient Forest.

The Monsters The new monsters in this game a welcome addition. I don’t really have any problems with their designs or fights. Have to say Goss Horag has a very fun fight, but my favorite new monster is probably Rakna-Kadaki. A pelican spider is a dang neat idea for a monster and there aren’t a lot of Temnocerans. Would love to see the return of the Carapaceons though! This is literally the perfect game for Shen-Gaoren to come back with the new rampage system! Bring back my giant enemy crab, Capcom please!

Monster Behavior/ Minion Monsters/ Herbivores Added this subsection to talk specifically about the monsters’ behaviors in this game along with the minion monsters cause while not very important overall there are still some things to be said.

Same thing in MH World, but the monsters act more like animals now. While yes, that is more realistic and is mostly a good thing, but it honestly gives me second thoughts about hunting them. In World most boss monsters wouldn’t attack you unless you attacked them first. That made me feel terrible walking up to a calm Teostra just chilling in the dunes and then I start smacking the heck outta it with a weapon... Old games the monsters saw you, the “something’s gonna getcha music starts playing” and then it charges you and your in the fight! Now its like you’re the monster killing a bunch of animals (exaggerating a bit, but still!)

What’s not exaggerated is the minions in this game. The old games had minions that were incredibly annoying and I wanted to kill them. This game however has the sweet little bullfangos, jagras, and other minions just lazing around sleeping. My brother and I were in need of Rhenoplos scalps for some gear, set out on a quest to slay some, find them peacefully sleeping by some rocks and I ask my brother, “Okay, so you gonna bash its skull in with your hammer and pop its eyes out or am I gonna fill it full of lead with my bowgun?” Needlessly violent example, I know, but it still makes the point that it feels more like animal cruelty when they aren’t bothering anyone. I’d rather the minions just start charging me and piss me off as a player, so I wouldn’t feel bad defending myself to take them out.

Lastly, there’s the herbivores. Not a lot to say on the matter, but I feel like they could’ve given a few more herbivore types. Like no Aptonoth in this game? I thought they were kinda a staple of the series for herbivores. I also feel like the maps could feel a bit more lively with more herbivores placed around. Maybe Mosswines in the Shrine Ruins, especially when scaling the central mountain shrine with the mushroom colonies everywhere. Great spots for mushroom piggies!

The Maps/ Locales I love them! Well for the most part. They are good and I don’t dislike any in particular. My only problems is that they sometimes feel too big, too open, and too empty. I know they have a lot of stuff in them, gathering points, spiribirds, relics, and many other things, but there is an odd sense of emptiness there. Like I mentioned earlier, I think perhaps adding in more scattered monsters might’ve helped that a bit. Only other thing to mention is that the new locales rely too heavily on the Palamutes to get around effectively. I personally like bringing my kitties with me on multiplayer quests, so I am at the mercy of wirebug zipping to get around and often left behind.

Oh, last thing I will mention on maps is while its not in the base game, I pray they add back the Tower as a map. Preferably the 2nd Gen version where you start at base camp and scale the tower. A game that’s all about rising and verticality, the Tower is literally the PERFECT map to have in this game!

Spiribirds Love em or hate them, there’s the Spiribirds. Cool concept, but I don’t think it works very well in my opinion. I don’t care about roaming the map to collect my bird buffs, I just want to eat for Attack Up large like old games and be done. I definitely try to grab them when I can, but I can’t be bothered to chase down all the birds each and every hunt just to get my full Attack up buff.

Wirebugs On with the title of the game being Rise giving meaning to the new wirebugs feature. Wirebugs are fun to use, zip around the map, super attacks, and what-not, but I can’t help but feel its a little out of place in a Monster Hunter game. Feels like I’m Spider-Man or something. I know I praised this when I played the demo and I’m not dissing it now, I still enjoy using them, but I am also admitting that they do feel very outlandish for a Monster Hunter game. Still better than the slinger/ clutch claw though! Let’s never talk about those accursed items again.

Silkbinds The Silkbind attacks though are fully great! I love having access to super attacks like Hunting Arts and things like that for my weapons, so I sincerely hope they keep some kind of super attack format in future games.

Mounting The mounting system in this game is weird, but pretty cool! Its a great way to let you control a monster for a change and beat the snot out of other monsters as a monster. I saw someone describe it is as “going full on Ratatouille with the monsters” and honestly there isn’t a better way to explain it than that.

Palicoes/ Palamutes The Buddy System in this game is great! Palicoes still feel about the same as they did in World, maybe a little less powerful now since you can have two of them at once, still love them though and prefer to bring a Palico with me on my quests.

Then there is the new doggies, the Palamutes! Super cute and cuddly, but also quite powerful! I love the doggos, but I wish the maps weren’t designed around them. I like to bring my cat with me on multiplayer quests, so I don’t get a dog to ride and the maps are HUGE, very wide-opened, lots of running... Wirebugs help, but still not quite as fast as the puppies.

Oh and two little pet peeve of mine is you can’t see other players buddy names and you can’t change buddy comments! I want people to be able to see my buddies’ names and I need my Garfield cat’s comment to say “I hate Mondays.” and my Sonic dog to say “Gotta go fast!” and my Courage the Cowardly Dog dog to have “The things I do for love.” Unless there is a hidden menu somewhere where you can edit these, but alas I have yet to find it...

Voiced Hunters Hunters have always been the silent protagonists of the games with attack grunts, hurt sounds, and little to nothing more. Now they are full voiced for gestures and full hunting dialogue. I really like this, its funny to hear them shout things and stuff and having some familiar voice actors in the game is really cool to have them voice my characters. My brother rocking the Xander Mobus voice-type on his hunter is freakin’ cool and hilarious at the same time. I am tempted to make a Zentisu hunter, name him Zenitsu, give him the Zentisu voice-type, and go full Thunderclap maining a Thunder-type Long Sword just for the heck of it. Oh and also there’s the fact that CRISTINA VEE IS OFFICIALLY IN A MONSTER HUNTER GAME NOW AS A FEMALE VOICE OPTION! Still feels weird comparing it to previous games, but I’m okay with it because the fun factor in it outweighs the weird for me personally. Besides if you for some reason decided you hate fun you can just mute them in the options.

Layered Armor (or lack-of) I love Layered Armor... and there is only two sets in this game. The Deluxe Edition’s “Kamurai” samurai looking layered armor and the Magnamalo amiibo “Sinister” layered set with a few head only layered pieces as DLC in the eShop. I was honestly expecting all armor to be layered and unlockable in the base game after the huge demand for layered armor in MH World and Transmog being a thing in the side team’s last game, MHXX/ MHGU.

I think a mixed system of both Transmog and Layered Armor would be ideal. Transmog system for in-game armors and then additional bonus themed armor sets made as Layered Armors like the Kamurai set. That way players can be rewarded for crafting all the armors with use of a Transmog system even giving an incentive to make multiple sets twice to Transmog differently. While the devs could still make money off cool unique Layered sets as DLC in the eShop. Literally fixes both issues right there. Feel free to use that idea, Capcom, and you’re welcome.

Multiplayer/ Lobbies/ Scaling Four people lobbies are back! Not necessarily a good thing. I mean hey its not bad either, but I honestly preferred the larger lobbies like World had. Having more people doesn’t make it less social. All they need is to force people to do multiplayer quests in the Gathering Hub. I prefer large lobbies and have people do whatever they want and meet up in the Hub for socials. Mainly what I dislike about 4 player lobbies is everyone will be expected to help each other on their quests within the lobby. I just want to chill and do my own thing, but see and interact with other players in the village between quests. Oh, but the ability to join quests late is seriously great! Dropping into a lobby and seeing people already on a quest and being able to jump in with them is a godsend!

Difficulty scaling is a very weird thing. It’s basically a double-edged sword. Its good to have because you can beat everything on your own, but that also defeats the purpose of multiplayer. In the past games, Hub quests were scaled higher for multiplayer, so getting more people to help only made it easier. Now, why bother with players when you could just do it yourself scaled to an easier single-player difficulty? I can usually get faster times when I solo things now. Multiplayer is there just for the social aspect to goof around with friends or if you just wanna do chill hunting with people. It’s no longer a requirement or an aid for beating the game. Like I said, its a weird thing, not bad, but not good either? I dunno, I just compare a lot of things to the classic MH games. In the past getting a second player to help makes it twice as easy compared to beating a Hub quest by yourself, while getting four players makes it where you’re effectively doing 4x more damage. Now its like you get 4-players and the monster gets 4x the health too. That might not be the exact scaling, but you get my point.

One last thing I want to touch on which a lot of people have already mentioned is the fact multiplayer can get pretty chaotic. Especially when you have 4 players with 4 palamutes all smacking away at a monster. Hit effects are EVERYWHERE! Creates quite the mess and can be hard to tell what’s happening.

Quest Difficulty/ Harder Monsters I don’t care too much about how hard the game is and I know this is a touchy subject, but I do like challenging monsters, without relying on gimmicky crap to fight them. MH World was filled with gimmicky fights like Behemoth, Leshen, even Alatreon and Fatalis to some degree. I still have Extreme Behemoth PTSD. I just want good clean fights, no damage checks, unavoidable one-hit kill moves, crap like that is not cool. I want to cart because I screwed up and made a wrong move and got punished by some wicked strong attack from a big bad boss monster. Not a stupid damage check telling me, “Oh, you not do enough damage, you die now.” To be fair, old Monster Hunter games had some gimmicky fights too though. MH4U with Apex Monsters and Wystones, MHGU with HP tank Hyper Monsters, heck even Freedom 2 was unintentionally gimmicky with outrageous hitboxes haha. Oh, that game was brutal! Deviants in MHGU were amazing though! Some really tough fights there, but incredibly rewarding to beat, that’s what I love!

The Endgame/ Secret Bosses (or lack-of) There is no Endgame, we are stuck in the Infinity War for now (or Affinity War as my brother calls it since the meta is all about those crits!) Okay, so that’s a bit harsh, all jokes aside there is an endgame, but its not exactly what I was expecting and leaves me wanting more. One of my favorite aspects of Monster Hunter games is the endgames and the secrets they hold, which this game had very few! They revealed nearly EVERY monster before this game launched. I get it, they want to sell their game, but leave some secrets please. Only monster that was secret was just the final boss. I love getting to the end of the game and unlocking new quests to fight the big scary endgame bosses. I guess World kinda suffered from that too a little bit. Mostly hanging on to old games like Freedom Unite unlocking Fatalis, MH3U getting Abyssal Lagiacrus, and Molten Tigrex in MH4U was very cool! Could just be the state of games these days like Smash Ultimate where they reveal everything before the game is out since data miners will just leak them anyways... kinda makes me sad.

Updates and Future Content

I know this game has planned updates that will add a lot of content, but I can’t help but feel those “updates” were part of the game that’s been withheld to make the updates feel like so much more. Its like they ripped out the ending of the game and are passing it of as a big huge update to be released after launch.

The real kick to this is the fact there is no Hunter Rank in the current game... I’ve done approximately 300 quests so far in my game, its going to hurt me very badly when I see the HR update come out and I don’t get any HR for the hunts I’ve done so far. I know some people could care less about HR and just see it as a number, but for me that number is a nice thing to see. I love seeing it go up as I do more quests and play more of the game. Going hard at launch has been a lot of fun, but less rewarding knowing I am quite possibly not getting any HR points for all my gameplay.

Only reason I can see they would not want to allow a buildup of HR before this update is because this update will add a bunch of new endgame monsters most likely unlocked through getting high Hunter Rank. I pray for my boy Akantor to finally shine again, I know the side team loves him, so let’s please get him into Rise! AND Please don’t show them off in videos, Capcom! Just stealth drop a bunch of Elder Dragons and Endgame bosses into the game!

Final Thoughts

I’m probably just stuck in the old days some, I guess this is just how the games will be going forward, but a bit of that makes me sad. Feels like the game series I loved so much is losing some character and personality of what made is special and unique. This review might’ve got a bit ranty, but I like to critique a game series I am very passionate about. World was very similar to this. From everything I’ve said, by no means do I hate this game. I still love MH Rise and the entire series and I’ll keep playing it having a lot of fun along the way. Best way I can describe Monster Hunter Rise is it’s the Side Team’s Monster Hunter World. Its fresh, new, and very experimental!

All in all this game is still great and I stand by what I said at the beginning of this entire post, its a blast to play! I hope everyone can enjoy it and remember, Happy Hunting!

#Monster Hunter Rise #Monster Hunter #MHRise

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sicklyscribe · 4 years

Note

Weren’t the Mikaelsons in Italy in the eleventh century? What if they ran into pre-crusades Nicky or smthn

BLESS you you BEAUTIFUL ANONYMOUS ANGEL

(this week has been exceedingly awful and I can’t sleep but I can talk Mikaelsons twelve ways to Sunday)

According to Nicolo’s fanlore page, he was first killed in 1099 only to awaken to immortality, wowza! According to the lovely movie timeline compilation here, Joe and Nicky are unaccounted for during the 1110′s (only ten to twenty years after their first deaths!) but for crossover purposes we could hilariously assume that they had some confusing run-ins with five angry mortal meatheads who seemed too buff to be human and possibly a Viking Dracula with a Cronus Complex.

Let’s assume, shall we! that through intentional tracking or blind fate, they are traveling the Italian countryside off the road, looking for a place to camp or bathe (or bone~ idk~~~).

Let’s assume that this happens sometime between a very upsetting evening in 1115 and 52 years, 4 months, 9 days later.

😏

minor spoilers ahead yeah i’m going there

*****

They had followed the low ground and the lush green for a long time before they began to hear the sound of water. Yusuf nodded towards it, reaching for the familiar brush of Nicolo’s shoulder as he changed course.

“NIK!” a woman’s voice screamed through the wood, and startled birds took wing. Nicolo tensed under Yusuf’s hand, and with a short locked glance Yusuf knew this person was a stranger and that this stranger would not be ignored. “NIK! Do-”

They ran when the voice choked into silence.

The horror had been so close, but they were still too late.

Weapons drawn, Yusuf and Nicolo found a man with black-gold eyes snarling over a woman’s dead body. Her blood still flowed freely from the gore at her neck, but her eyes were sightless. The ground was too stained beneath her. The two immortals closed in on the demon with the twinned, brutal grace they had built blow by blow from rivalhood.

The thing was not human.

Too fast, too strong; unarmed, he charged at Nicolo. Yusuf’s blade struck deep in his side but still he advanced. “HUNTER” he spat in a dialect not unlike Nicolo’s own, and it was the last thing Nicolo heard before his vision went black.

“NICOLO!” “NIK!”

It all happened very, very quickly. The beast collapsed, wailing, foreign words on his tongue and Yusuf took his chance. Before his sword tested the creature’s reaction to beheading, a gold and bloody flash in the corner of his vision suddenly became a woman -- dead woman -- crushing his sword-arm with hands like iron hammers. “DO NOT fighting him!” she shrieked, accented so heavily he almost could not recognize the words Nicolo had been teaching him.

Tears welled at his eyes at the pain. He knelt where he stood and gripped his lover’s ankle with his good hand to say Wake up. I need you. Be careful.

The dead woman, whole and healed and alive, had black-red pooling in the corners of her own eyes. Her fine dress was dirty and blotted with colors he knew well. Old blood. Dry blood. Fresh blood. He forced himself to breathe as his bones cracked back into place.

The man with the glowing eyes and the fatal wound in his side was screaming, now, clawing at his own skin and babbling hunter within ravings of his own language. In some moments it seemed as though his skin would not contain him.

“We mean n-”

She cut him off with a hiss and a renewal of the darkness in her eyes. Yusuf’s mind slowly began to recall the campfire tales he’d been told in Europa, the way the people here already had an idea of what unkillable would entail.

With soft murmurs and gentle “Nik”s, the foreign woman crept behind the raving beast, and placed a hand on his torn collar. He stilled for a fraction of a breath, peace in his eyes turning them a striking human blue, but Yusuf saw a flash of fangs in the next instant, and in the instant following, the woman snapped his neck.

It was at that moment Nicolo began to stir. Yusuf wanted to laugh, it was like they were taking turns.

“Many sorries,” the woman whispered, desperate and sincere, “I am so hungry.”

She was biting his neck. Nicolo was awake and tackling her. “Wait!” Yusuf coughed, having guessed a good amount of what was about to happen, but Nicolo’s dagger was already in her heart.

She laughed.

Yusuf took Nicolo by the waist and pulled him away from the monsters and did not let go. She followed them with her eyes as a new blood stain decorated her shift. “What are you?” Nicolo gasped, touching the chain at his neck that bore his crucifix.

She pulled the dagger from her chest with a grimace, then cocked her head to the side as if straining to hear something. “Wait for good speaker, handsomes.”

Yusuf said the same basic question in as many languages as he could manage, to varying degrees of accuracy. Nicolo’s then added the Frankish version, and she interrupted him before he could try another.

“Ah! I am better with this one,” she was distracted, hauling the likely-not-dead-for-long killer’s body into her lap and gripping his arms behind his back. “So is Elijah.”

Another blur joined them, becoming a dark-haired man with manacles in his arms. His gaze was hawkish and cold as he caught sight of Yusuf and Nicolo, and Yusuf could not help but be reminded of Nicolo’s own way of glaring.

Yusuf told Nicolo what had happened while he was dead in Greek, while the woman spoke rapidly in her own tongue to the newcomer. The latter pair secured the manacles at the wrists and ankles of the dead man with grim and practiced tenderness. He woke, screaming, and with an animal howl he fought against them. The man who had brought the manacles embraced him, much like the woman had, and snapped his neck.

He then brushed the bracken from his hands and clothes, and stood to face Yusuf and Nicolo. “Hello, messieurs. My sister and I have many questions, and must return before he wakes. Please, join us.”

The blonde carried the chained man as if he weighed no more than an infant against her shoulder, and the strange siblings began to walk quickly -- slowly, for them -- through the trees.

When Yusuf and Nicolo did not follow, the woman scoffed. Her brother turned again, with a dangerous smile. “Are you afraid that we will kill you?”

Yusuf could not help it, the blood still roaring in his ears and the absurdity of it all bubbling laughter at his throat that he could not contain. Nicolo sighed. They were both terrified. They were both curious. They followed the three monsters to their lair.

*****

AND THEN I GUESS NICOLO TRIES TO DO AN EXORCISM ON KLAUS OR SOMETHING AND THE SIBS ARE SUPER JEALOUS THAT THESE TWO DON’T HAVE TO DRINK HUMAN BLOOD AND MAYBE KOL IS DRUNK SOMEWHERE IN THE BACKGROUND/COFFINATED WITH HIS BROTHER/LIVING IT UP IN CHINA IDK.

I am allowed to write Hunter’s Curse fic in this case because 1) it’s crossover so the inherent levity of the AU grants me certain diplomatic immunities 2) it’s not from a Mikaelson perspective who would do that I mean who would DO THAT @hairzier and 3) Take pity on me for anything not covered by the previous two because real life has been f*cking me over and this was delicious fun to write.

#my writing #asks #IT'S AN ORIGINALS FIC FROM YOURS TRULY *TWICE IN ONE YEAR* YOU GUYS #happy fluff angst birthday to YOU #Anonymous

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madleeindifferent · 5 years

Text

Have Mercy On Me

Title : Mercy (Part One)

Pairing : Dean X Reader, slow burn

Word Count : 3632

Prompt : You have always had an unusual gift of foresight that has helped you become one of the best hunters in the region. When you started working with the Winchester’s everything was smooth sailing. Until you started catching a few feelings for the oldest brother and now, as new nightmares are haunting you day and night, you wonder if this is a sign or a warning of what is to come.

AN: sorry I’ve been inactive for a while, I’ve been writing for other things and this blog took a backseat. Anyway, here’s something to celebrate Halloween and spoopy season and *sobs* the end of supernatural. It’s inspired by the conjuring 2 so check out this scary scene to see where I pulled from if you dareeeee😈 lots of love to y’all! Hopefully this will be a pretty long, slow burn kind of series. Carry on my wayward sons and daughters!

You ran through the rain, your hair plastered to your face, your gun in your hand, as the wind tore at your skin. Your boots slipped in the mud and you caught yourself on one knee, scuffing it up and stumbling back to your feet without missing a beat.

“Help!” You heard the little girl scream again and it made you run faster.

I am coming! You wanted to shout it, but you were so close that you didn’t have the energy to waste on a word. You squinted through the rain and saw the dark shape disappear in the rain in front of you, hurrying down the muddy path that led toward the towering dark mansion on the hill.

“Help me!”

“No!” You took off down the path, your heart hammering and your lungs screaming for air as you ran as hard as you could.

“Y/N! Wait!” You heard the voices behind you but you didn’t slow down.

You burst through the front door with a grunt and the instant you were out of the rain you could hardly see. You raised your gun, the dark surrounding you.

“I know you are here!” You shouted, your voice echoing in the mansions dark halls. The creature was here, you knew it, you could feel it, dark and heavy in the silence. And all you could think was that you had to save the little girl.

You pushed your wet hair out of your face and took a step deeper into the dark.

“Y/N…”

You whipped to the side as the dark, raspy voice echoed in the dark beside you. “I see you...I know what you are afraid of…”

You whipped around the corner just as a black, clawed hand reached out and snatched you by the throat. You let out the start of a scream, but the sound was cut off when the hand closed your windpipe. You let out a grunt as the shadowy figure lifted you feet off the ground, your boots dangling uselessly. Your hands flew up to grab the wrists, clawing frantically but the skin was hot as coals against your fingertips. You whimpered in panic as the figure leaned close, too dark for you to see anything except for those two silver orbs of eyes inches in front of your own, unearthly and focused on your soul.

“I know what you fear the most…Y/N.”

You struggled in the grip of the monster as it turned your head to the side. For a moment, you had no idea what you were looking at, and then you saw a tall figure step out of the shadows. It took you a moment to recognise the broad shoulders and bow-legs in the dark. “D-Dean?” You ground out, your voice nothing more than a whisper.

Dean looked up, and the tiniest glow of light touched his face, lighting his green eyes. They were locked on you, teary and sincere. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Dean!” You clawed at the hand around your throat, kicking and coughing in desperation, struggling to get away.

“Y/N...”You felt the hot rancid breath of the creature on your face as you could only watch helplessly as Dean was thrown backwards into the dark with a soft thud. “Dean!” THe next moment you heard the rip of flesh and fabric as his entire body was torn down the middle by a huge, unseen spire.

“No!”

“Y/N!”

You woke up with a jolt, swinging a fist upward as hard as you could until it connected with something solid above you.

“Ow! Son of a BITCH!”

You felt a huge weight leave your body and you looked up in the dark to see a huge shape fall off the end of your bed. You lurched for the light at the side of your bed and flipped it on with a gasp. Dean let out a hiss of pain, holding his nose with one hand as he blinked up at you against the light.

“Dean? What the hell?!”

“What?!” He shot back just as loudly, jumping to his feet beside your bed, still touching his nose delicately. “You punched me in the face!”

Instantly you felt a wave of guilt and relief simultaneously wash over you. “Whoops.” You grabbed your hand and felt the throb in your knuckles. “Sorry.”

“Damn, Y/N…” Dean stood next to you and checked to see if his nose was bleeding.

“Maybe you shouldn’t shake me awake next time.” You snapped, climbing out of bed.

Dean let out a grumble, sitting next to you on the bed. “What was I supposed to do, let you lay there and cry in your sleep?”

You flushed and grabbed a drink from the faucet in the bathroom of the shitty motel you were staying in, trying to calm yourself. You glanced up at your reflection in the dirty mirror. You had to admit, you normally weren’t a huge fan of your appearance, but after the week and a half you and the boys had gone through with that Wendigo hunt, you looked even worse than usual, dark rings under your eyes, a line of healing scratches on your forehead and cheek and two long bruises on your throat where the monster had grabbed you.

“Hey…” You blinked up at Dean’s soft voice, as he stepped behind you out of the dark, his green eyes intent on yours in the mirror. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” You let out a sorry excuse for a laugh, your smile tired. “It was just a dream.”

Dean kept looking at you, coming up behind you until he was close enough for you to feel the heat of his body behind you. You swallowed hard and looked away splashing water onto your face to move your attention away from how tall he loomed over you in the bathroom, his breathing soft and steady behind you.

“Want to talk about it?”

You let out a soft breath, ready to shake off his compassion. He always was so quick to be at your side when you faced even the smallest inconvenience, and if you were honest, nightmares were not a stranger to either of you. He was your best friend after all, so it was not out of the ordinary for the two of you to sit awake on some nights with the lights on just to keep each other company and forget about the terrors of the night.

“Where’s Sam?” You asked, changing the topic.

You and the boys had a deal that you would switch off whoever had to share the bed every night out on a hunt. You and Dean had been the unlucky ones this time, but you did notice that the other bed was completely empty. Well, if you would call it unlucky. In fact, a part of you loved sleeping next to Dean. God knows it was the closest you ever would get to him.

The number of nights you would lie awake next to him, staring at the ceiling until you heard his soft snores fill the room next to you were too numerous to count. But you always loved how warm and safe you felt with him just inches away from you. Some nights you’d even turn in the middle of the night and just stare at him. He always looked so tense and angry when he was awake, but when he slept, all those angry thin lines carved into his brow would disappear and he’d even smile a tiny bit, completely relaxed in his sleep. It was a side of Dean that most people would never see.

“He went out for a jog. I guess he’s still a little on edge from that hunt.”

“We all are…” You sighed, running a hand through your sleep-battered hair. “What time is it?”

“Almost 8.”

“Jeez it’s late.” You turned to him with a tired smile. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because, you have a tendency to punch people in the face when they try.” Dean scoffed coming a few steps closer to stand next to you and examine himself in the mirror beside you. His hip bumped yours and you flushed, looking up at the two figures in your mirror.

Damn, how could one person be so attractive at all times? His hair was standing up at every angle from sleep and he had a long gash across his forehead and a bruise on his jaw but he still looked like he belonged on a JamesBond movie set. Your eyes flickered between the two of you and you felt yourself deflate at how the pair of you didn’t look like you belonged together. Different leagues.

You sighed and turned to him with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, okay? Let me see.”

Dean smirked as you turned and took his face in your hands and examined his nose delicately. He let out a tiny puff of a breath as your fingers ran lightly over the bruise on his jaw. “Sorry.”

You mumbled, and he stilled under your touch, his breathing slowing. You tsked softly and let him go. “You’re fine.”

“You aren’t too bad yourself.” Dean grinned widely at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Funny.” You hummed turning back to the sink to pull your hair up into a messy bun.

Dean chuckled and then you saw his eyes flicker up to yours in the mirror. “Are you alright?”

You looked down at your hand. “I mean my knuckles hurt a bit but--”

“I mean about your dream.”

You hesitated and took a deep breath. Dean was quick to take your dreams seriously. Both of the brothers were to be honest, too many of your dreams had been premonitions of the future for them to ignore any. You used to believe you were a bit of a prophet, but now you just thought that your dreams were a way of discerning spirits. It was one of the gifts you had that made hunting with the boys easier.

“I…” You turned and looked at Dean for a moment, and the vision you had of him, run through by a huge spike ran through your mind, sending chills down your spine. “I think we need to take a break.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “What did you see?”

You almost said it, “I saw you die,” but at the last moment you shook your head. There was no need to scare him, especially since you had just wrapped up an entire week-long hunt. “I just think we need to stop hunting, just for a little bit. I can’t sleep anymore.”

Dean’s face changed, his features softening. “Okay. I think I can talk Sam into a mini vacation.”

You cast him a tired smile. “Really?”

Dean narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Well, actually, you should tell him, he’s more likely to listen to you.”

You let out a soft laugh and you felt your heart tug at how your voice still shook a little too much. Damn nightmares…

“Hey, come here.”

You looked up to see Dean opening his arms to you, his green eyes soft. You let out a soft breath and stepped into his chest, holding him tight. As you buried your nose against his chest, he wrapped his arms around you,breathing into your hair. You listened to the sound of his heart beating in his chest.

“It’s alright.” Was all he said, and it was enough. You closed your eyes and just stood there, holding each other in the dark of the room..

“I don’t know why…” You murmured softly, “But I am scared.”

“Of what?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling that something is going to happen and…” You shook your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll lose you and Sam.” Your voice came out more strangled than you anticipated and you had to swallow hard to just keep yourself from crying.

“Hey now, come on…” Dean’s fingers moved and you felt them under your jaw tilting your head up so you had to look up at him. He gave you a sweet smile, an expression that he reserved only for you. “Sam and I can take care of ourselves.”

You blinked up at him, unable to speak. “You’re my best friend, Dean.”

“You’re mine too, sweetheart.” Dean’s smile softened and his eyes flickered over your face. “We’ve got each other. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

You didn’t mean to, but your lips fell open in a soft sigh of relief. He was right. You had each other. Always, and no force of heaven or hell could take that away.

You looked up into his eyes, green pools of warmth that you could float inside of for all of eternity if he let you.

Suddenly you felt how close you were, where his hand was resting on the curve of your hip and your heartbeat jumped into your throat. He was so close that you could smell the scent of his aftershave mixing with the mint of his toothpaste. You hoped he couldn’t see you blush.

Dean’s gaze flickered, and for a moment you thought rested on your lips. Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. He was so close but you couldn’t help it...you wanted him closer still. You felt yourself leaning forward just a tiny bit, his fingertips tracing the skin of your jawline, coming up close to your lips. Your heart was beating so fast that you could barely breathe as you felt pulled closer and closer into his warm chest, his fingers spreading across your back, pulling you towards him as your eyes flickered closed.

“Hey guys!” The sound of the door swinging open made you jump in surprise, almost helping out loud.

Dean pulled back, rolling his eyes so hard that his head literally whipped around at his younger brother as he stood in the doorway. “Come on, Sammy. You gotta be kidding me!” Dean grunted, scooting a few inches away from you on the bed. You chuckled to yourself, struggling to calm your thundering heart as the blush slowly worked its way off your face.

Thank God for Sammy, always bursting in at just the right time before you could say or do anything you might regret. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear as you looked back up at Sam, who just quirked his eyebrows at the two of you.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sam shot at his brother. He didn’t even flinch as Dean crumpled up his paper cup from the side table and tossed it at Sam’s head, missing by a few inches before it bounced off the back wall. “Mature.”

You almost laughed too loud at Sam’s question. You and Dean had always only been just friends. Now, there was a certain level of sexual tension, you had to admit, but that was because he was Dean Winchester. The man just oozed sex. The fact that you flirted every once in a while had nothing to do with the fact that you secretly adored him; it was just because you were a woman and he was Dean. Everyone had that same spark with him. The only difference was that you had been traveling together for almost a year now, hunting with the boys had become a regular part of your life. You may just be one of the billions of women attracted to Dean, but you were the only one who could say that he was your best friend.

“What’s up, Sam?” You asked, sitting up and pulling your hair into a messy bun,

“Well…” Sam sat on the end of your bed between you and Dean with his laptop open and you heard Dean grumble out loud as his brother bumped his shoulder.

“Sammy, I swear to god, if you are about to send us on another hunt I am gonna punch you in the eye.”

Sam let out a sigh and cast you a quick glance. You attempted a small smile but you had to admit you were glad Dean had jumped the gun on this one. He did take your concern to heart you had to give him credit.

“Look, I know we’re all tired…”

“Good, end of discussion.” Dean got up and sauntered to the duffle bag he had tossed to the corner of the hotel room and dug out your shared bottle of Tennessee Honey.

You and Sam watched him sulk away before you cast a quick look at Sam’s laptop. “What did you find?”

Sam gave you a sympathetic smile and you snuggled closer to him, reading over his shoulder. “It may be nothing, but I wanted to run this by you.” He turned the laptop toward you and you narrowed your eyes at the flashing headline.

“Woah…”

“Yeah. The media is all over this case.”

You looked at the report. “Ghost Terrorizes Family in Old Farmhouse.”

“Pfft.” Beside you, Dean flopped down with a groan of annoyance on the other bed, taking a quick swig of the whiskey. “Look, if they’re writing newspaper articles about it, then its not a real ghost.”

“But, get this.” You read the bold words on the laptop before Sam scrolled down and clicked a link.

At first it was a silent recording. Then an adult man spoke. “Is anybody there who wishes to communicate?”

You sat quietly next to Sam as the recording bussed quietly for a moment. Dean took another drink, uninterested. Suddenly the voice spoke again, “Jane, are you alright?”

There was a soft growl, like an animal growing agitated and then a soft voice, the voice of an old man came out of the silence, raspy and cold. “Jane’s not here right now. She’s asleep and I am talking.”

The voice sounded like a creature that had crawled out of a grave and still had gravel stuck in his throat.

You heard the reporter clear his throat uncomfortably. “What is your name then?”

“You…” The sickly old man voice spat out soft and slow, “don’t belong here.”

“What is your name?” The reporter asked, his own voice quaking a bit. You narrowed your eyes at the sound of discomfort in the man’s voice. “My name is Edward Bla--”

“Eddie Blake.” The old voice rasped out, cutting the reporter off with a savage chuckle. “I know who you are.”

“Well, then what do we call you?” Edward Blake asked, his voice quiet.

“Get out of my house!” The old man’s voice suddenly shouted.

It made you flinch and Dean turned on his own bed, shooting you both a confused look. He squinted up his lips and shook his head, “Touchy old shit, am I right?” He shot you a dorky smile, waiting for you to laugh but you just rolled your eyes.

“What is your name?” The reporter asked.

There was silence for a moment, and then, “Knock knock.”

“Very well, who’s there?”

“Bill...Bill...BILL.”

“Bill who?”

You and the boys sat very quiet, the recording was still except for static air. “My name is Bill Wilkens. And I am seventy-two years old.”

The recording cut off after that and Sam sat back.

“He sounds so confused.” You mumbled. “Is he senile?”

“Who do you think was speaking in that recording?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, a delirious old man? Gollum maybe.”

“That voice was coming out of an eleven year old girl...”

You looked up instantly, your heart stuttering in your chest. Something about that sent chills down your spine. You glanced over to Dean but he was staring at the floor, thinking.

“Apparently, they tried to get the church involved and a priest was sent to urgent care. After that the case became a media frenzy. ”

You raised a hand to your lips in shock.

Dean let out a soft sigh. “What do you want us to do, Sam?”

Sam let out a soft sigh before he cast his brother a sympathetic glance. “Look, I don’t think it's anything. I think it’s just a publicity stunt, the local papers are all over it, the house is basically a tourist trap. But, I think we should just check it out, just to be safe.”

“Sam, it really doesn’t sound like anything but a good ventriloquist act.” You mumbled softly.

“I thought so at first. But the thing is, this mother...she called Jody.”

That made all of you stop. Dean sat up a little straighter. Sam shrugged, “Apparently they are looking for help and she did some digging and heard of us.”

“That’s impossible.” Dean snorted. “No one’s ever heard of us.” He said, pointing between the three of you.

“Jody said we better check this case out. Despite what the papers are writing about, this family is really scared.”

You shot Dean a quick look. He was already staring at you. Part of you already knew that your argument from the morning didn’t stand a chance. You and the boys were never ones to shy away from a family in need, despite how scared you were deep down.

You let out a soft breath. “When should we head out?”

You saw Dean stare at you but you didn’t look at him.

Sam shrugged and handed his laptop to Dean so that the older brother could scroll through the article. “Look, it’s probably nothing, but I just think we should give it a quick sweep through. Just to be sure. If it’s nothing we’ll turn around and go straight back to the bunker. But if it’s not...then there is a family out there who desperately needs our help.”

End of part one

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mythopoeticreality · 4 years

Text

The Road Goes Ever On- Chapter 6

Ayyy! Two Chapters within a week! I’m on a roll!^^ Nah, but I really enjoyed writing this one (Fairies are always fun to write) and I hope ya’ll like it just as much as I do! :)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900423/chapters/56544772

Chapter 6

He recognized those horns. The same sound that called him from his dreams. Huan’s ears, too, pricked at the sound, and Tyelcormo pulled himself straighter, eyes snapping in it’s direction.

That bone-stirring rumble of an uncountable herd stampeding towards you. The whoops and taunting laughter carried on the air. The haunting moan of the horn, and the baying of the hounds, oddly seeming to grow more echoing and distant as they grew the nearer. But it wasn’t the strangeness of any of it that got to Tyelco. No, of course not. Rather, it was that he knew these sensations, that they were as familiar to him as the the feeling of his own stride or the sound of Huan’s panting breaths.The air nearly pulsing with a heartbeat of its own, feeling sharp as it came into the lungs, and he could nearly feel the powerful muscle of the horses beneath him as they crashed through the trees, coming nearer. To ride and feel those horses break into a run, it was like an awakening. It was to come alive again. That was what a Hunt was, chaos, noise, life, driving onward. Always onward.

And he could feel that pulse now, even from the ground, even separate from them. It called, yet at the same time it repelled. It prickled at the skin, electric. Made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end -- an echo of the ecstasy he felt riding amongst Oromë’s folk. He could feel his muscles pulling bow-sting taught, ready to leap off in a run. Out of his own control it was instinct, the very air whispering to him, Run, now, Run! You are prey now, even as it also called, Come join us! Ride with us! Let us take you away to be a part of our company…

Tyelcormo licked at his lips. Gave his head a sharp shake. No. No. What was this? He had to focus now. He was out here for a reason. Tyelpë. They had to find Tyelpë.

But the night air was stirring, cool and sweet in his lungs and tasting of something he both knew and didn’t. It was as though every star in the heavens had turned it’s eyes upon him and every tree in the surrounding forest was calling for him in the hissing clatter of their leaves.

It was the flash of his father’s knife in Telperion’s light that brought him back. That had Tyelco reaching for his own . It felt safer somehow, more grounding. Like the only solid thing in the world at that moment.

“That will not serve you here. Put it away.” The stranger’s voice. As calm, as firm, as cool as ever. It was the same bloody trick that Curvo used so often, one that had always escaped him.

Atar only scoffed at this, and Tyelco only found himself grasping all the tighter to his own blade. “What? So that I may fall to the same foe that has stolen my grandson without a fight? That I might --”

“Atar, I do not like this.” Curvo. Atar cut himself off to listen. “Something is coming this way, it feels almost planned. What if we were brought out here to meet whoever comes?

At this Atar’s eyes narrowed, gaze sharpening to a needle point. “Is that what you want? Is that why you brought us here? To hand us over to these beings...Servants of Melkor or--”

The stranger sighed, the tone of his voice making clear that he’d said well enough before, “I do not know who this ‘Melkor’ of yours is.”

And here it was Tyelcormo’s turn to scoff. Unwise, perhaps to antagonize their only lead on his nephew’s whereabouts, but it was either to focus on the obvious lies coming dripping from the man’s lips or to that chorus of carried on the wind, intent of drawing him into the deep shadows of the trees.

He needed...he needed to focus. Atar and the Stranger were still talking. Well, they were not talking at the moment, but the stubborn looks traveling between them communicated well enough Atar starred the man down, but his gaze was met in equal measure.

“You do not wish to cause offense. Put your knife away.” The stranger, this Raven King murmured.

A Moment passed, then a moment more. The thunder of Horse’s hooves grew the nearer and the blazing white flash of the hound’s bodies could be seen through the trees. Beautiful creatures, Tyelco could not help but think.

Finally, grudgingly, Atar shoved his knife back into its scabbard again, barking something back to Tyelco and Curvo.

“Atar, why...” Curvo was arguing. Tyelco wasn’t paying attention.

His mind was spinning, edging towards that familiar wild high that he felt every time his horse plunged into a gallop, every time the chase was on. The world itself felt almost unreal somehow, like a sheet of rain that could be blown aside with a strong enough gust of wind. And his nails clawing into his palm, the solidness of the knife handle he held was all that kept him clutching to reality…

Come join us! Come ride with us!

“No!” It came out a strangled shout, and Suddenly Tyelco was aware of a pair of dark eyes boring into his own.

The Stranger’s head just canted to the side, eyes narrowing in thought. Tyelco’s feet remained rooted to the spot, and even as this Raven King approached, the hunter’s own gaze kept flickering back over the stranger’s shoulder, off towards the trees and the ever nearing company.

The stranger’s gaze darted down to Tyelco’ hands. He murmured something to himself, Tyelcormo couldn’t quite catch it. “Clever instincts…” He would have guessed the words were, if forced to it.

The man’s hands came up, were wrapping around Tyelcormo’s own fingers. Tyelco flinched back. Huan snarled. But the stranger remained, prying open the elf’s hand with a surprising gentleness as he slipped the blade up and into Tyelcormo’ grasp.

He spoke...words Tyelcormo couldn’t quite wrap his mind about, cold and ringing as the hammer in the forge, and a shooting pain --as though the steel of the blade had buried itself into the flesh of his hand -- pierced through Tyelco. The world flashed white for an instant, and it felt as though he could barely move for the agony of it.

When his vision cleared, he was staring into the Raven King’s eyes once more.“Remember your purpose here.” Was all the man said, before stepping away again, and turning back to face the Hunt now gathered all before them.

They were a troop of wild figures, some clad in clinging garments of tattered furs and leathers, and iridescent feathers, others in tunics and robes woven from...from things Tyelcormo couldn’t recognize --or rather he could but to say it aloud would be utter madness! Autumn Evenings and Forest Mists…

At their head rode their leader, his hair a wild mass of curls who’s color brought to mind nothing so much as autumn leaves and leaping sparks. Wide-shouldered and tall, with eyes that danced with reflected torchlight, he seemed to Tyelco’s eyes so sharply cut out from the shadows that surrounded him. His mind couldn’t help but travel to the golden-warm light of the campfires of those nights he spent camping out with Oromë’s hunt, of the laughter and joy of his own companions as they sat ‘round, figures emerging from the obscurity of those surrounding shadows into the flickering light. The echoes of that laughter played at the edge of his hearing now, while in his chest rose that restless joy, and more then that. That fleeting sense he got when sitting beneath the wide field of stars above, or when riding along the roots of the Pelori, and seeing the mountains tower above him. And all of that wrapped in the man who stood before them, who’s eyes were raking over both he and Huan.

Celegorm found himself standing straighter, feeling that gaze on him. And in snaked that thought, whispering at the back of his mind, Yes, I could follow him…

A jolt. A piercing, spasming agony stabbing through his hand, flashing white again before his eyes. His ears rang, as though he were entering Atar’s forge.

“...With friends this time as well I see!” The Huntsman’s voice, reaching him as his vision cleared. Speaking to the Raven King. “And were you not just warning us of the dangers of such things?”

Tyelcormo blinked, both breath and body shaking. His eyes dropped down to his hand, still grasping that knife blade...but still whole….

He shook himself, trying to push off the half-formed thoughts still drifting through his mind. Tyelpë. He was out here to find Tyelpë.

There was a low, questioning whine from Huan. “Are you alright? What did he do to --”

“No, No, I am...fine. Fine.” Tyecomo felt off to even be saying it somehow. But..he was. His mind in fact felt far clearer than it had before…

And now, thinking on it, there was something about the question the Hunstaman asked that Tylcormo did not like, not with the way the Huntsman was looking at them, sizing them up like harts for the kill.

~*~

It was not a question the Raven King himself much liked either. A trap, either to expose hypocrisy on his part, or to feel out whether these men here, these ‘friends’ as the Huntsman -- Sacha was the name he used here -- called them, were free for the taking. There was no good answer of course. There rarely were in such situations. And so John said nothing, simply shrugging the words off as though they were nothing, not even worthy of his consideration.

To this, Sacha simply laughed. He quickly shook his head, swatting aside his own words as though they were so many buzzing flies. “Oh, but no matter, I certainly hold nothing against you. Is that Prince Fëanáro I see?” He leaned forward on his horse, eyeing John’s guide, before slipping down and striding nearer.

The Hound lept, suddenly between the Sidhe and John’s guide, leaning down low, teeth bared as he snarled.

In surprise Sacha stepped back, his eyes wide, yet in a moment he was laughing once more. “Ah! And one of Arōmēz’s mighty hounds as well! Which means…”

He was gone, suddenly there behind John, standing there before the Rider, lips curling into a cat’s grin. “The third one, the hunter. And a handsome one he is, as well…” Sacha reached up, as though to brush his hand along the Rider’s jawline, but the man stumbled backwards.

John’s guide-- Fëanáro, apparently -- nearly growled. “Get away from my son.”

Blunt, perhaps too much so, though here at least John could not fault him. The man protected what was his. Would he, himself have not drawn such a line just as clearly?

The other son -- the father of the boy who was missing, that was -- was bristling by now, reaching again for his knife, and the hound was now wildly barking, readying itself to pounce on the Sidhe.

By the time the Hound bounded forward though, even as the missing boy’s father had freed blade from scabbard, Sacha was gone, once more standing before Fëanáro. A brief drama was quickly unfolding across his features. His brows shot up, and he looked at Fëanáro as though he’d just been shouted at by an ant-hill he’d kicked over (truth to tell, he likely would have been less surprised by shouting ant-hills). That surprise lasted only a moment though, before his expression morphed into a wide grin.

“Ah! You must forgive me!” The Sidhe said, hand to heart and bowing his head, “To speak of you without speaking to you! How rude indeed! I had no idea that you might understand, however! And, of course, young Starling here” He gestured back towards John at this, as John gnawed at the inside of his lip, forcing down rising irritation, “Does not speak Quenya.”

With the sort of whimsicality that could be posessed only by one of the Sidhe, Sacha immediately brightened then,“But that is no matter now, of course. Though I must admit I am rather surprised at running across you out here! Should you not be in Tirion, astounding all with your latest creation?”

There was silence in that first moment, as Fëanáro stood there, blinking. Just trying to trace out just how the conversation had found itself here. Despite himself, The Raven King could not help but find himself just slightly amused by it. Going by the expression the man wore, it seemed Fëanáro was not often one to find himself dumbfounded. All through the Huntsman’s speech he’d looked suitably unimpressed, and now that the Sidhe was here speaking to him as though they were old friends?

“And who are you to ask?” Fëanáro asked, finally finding his voice.

Painfully blunt, and with a Prince’s pride.. The Raven King sighed from where he stood watching. He should expect no different of course.He should have recognized it from the first. The man had the pride of a King’s son, after all -- and there shone a sign one could spot whether it was Faerie, England, France or Scotland who’s earth they stood upon. No, the Raven King knew the air royalty carried about it by now. He was unsurprised.

He was not pleased with it -- neither that pride nor whatever rash actions would be taken to soothe it. But he was unsurprised.

And now, before things grew too out of hand, it seemed he would have to intervene…

“He is a Sidhe Lord,” John interjected, “and perhaps one of the mightiest within the regions of Faerie that border your realm.” Perhaps the flattery would mollify Sacha. He was hoping at least the words would give the Prince hint enough to get him to stop talking.

“Quite. Who am I indeed!” Sacha scoffed, turning back to John, “I would advise you against taking with you such an ill-mannered creature --”

“What did you just--”

The rest came out a strangled sound, leaving Fëanáro wide eyed and clutching at his throat. His sons were shouting, just behind John, rushing towards their father as he gasped and mouth working, yet no sound emerging.

“Really now!” The Sidhe rolled his eyes, and he let his hand fall back to his side and turned to John, saying so casually, “I am half tempted to kill him, you know. The night’s hunt has been frustrating enough as it is.”

The tension in the air suddenly increased a thousandfold, underlined by a low snarl from the hound, as it’s master’s eyes flashed.

The look alone that the Raven King gave the Sidhe was a warning in and of itself.

“Oh, you know I would never. There are laws and customs, after all, and I am no barbarian! They are yours, these Elves, and I would not interfere!”

The Raven King responded with a low hum. “Yet all I have seen would suggest otherwise.”

Sparks lit in Sacha’s eyes. “Oh, is that so, now? Is something amiss, young Starling?”

A shrug was all the Magician gave in reply, as his gaze glanced back over the Huntsman’s shoulder. “You are missing two amongst your number.” He murmured.

“Hrmmm?” The Sidhe’s brows shot up and he glanced backwards. “Ah! So it seems!”

“Who is it?”

“Come again?”

“Who left?”

“Why, Starling, What interest you seem to be taking in the going on of my court!”

A faint smile just touched at the Raven King’ lips. It was not a pleasant smile. “Should I not? I came here in hopes of solidifying an alliance with you, after all.” The rest of that sentance, ‘I should hate to leave instead an enemy.’ was left to hang silently upon the air.

There was a moment, just briefly, where Sacha held the Magician under his gaze, regarding him almost thoughtfully.

“I have had some trouble in keeping track of Tethil recently. He has always been one of my more flighty companions, of course, and since his cousin arrived in my realm for a visit…?”

“Cousin?”

“Oh, I forget his name...some young Lord or King from the other side of Faerie, nearer to your own realm I believe...”

“I see.” Nearer to his own realm...huh, well it seemed now this short detour was now spanning across Faerie...

“If either have crossed you, I should like to know about it.” Sacha went on. The corner of John’s lips quirked upward at the tone in his voice. If they were crossing him, they were endangering this alliance for their Lord. Getting in his way. And that, John doubted, he would appreciate much at all.

“Perhaps I shall leave it to you then. For now however…”

“Yes, you must find them, I suppose?”

“Indeed. Better luck on your hunt, Sacha”

“And I wish you the same on yours, Starling.”

And with those words the Huntsman turned and mounted his horse again. Heels digging into the magnificent creature’s side, he urged it onward, plunging into the night air, cloaks and manes swirling and snapping behind them as the shining company thundered past.

Even before the distant rumble of hooves against the hard packed earth stopped echoing in the Magician’s bones, he was turning to face the other three. They had already gathered together, each with a face like granite as they stared John down

“Enough of this.” It was the Rider who spoke, standing nearest to John. “what was that? You owe us something of an explanation. We go no further with you until we know just what is going on.”

Until you know what happened to you… John could not help but think. The man was still grasping onto his knife blade, only sliding it away, back into it’s scabbard once he realized that the Raven King was indeed looking. It had been a patchwork of a spell, that he knew. He’d not had enough time to do the magic properly of course, to call upon the bees and the moon --if she could even hear him here! But it seemed it had served him well enough, in the circumstance.

Nail his hand with an iron nail so that he shall not raise it to do the deceiver's bidding.

Or, well, a hunting knife could serve just as well in a pinch.

“Then that is your choice to make.” The Raven King replied, quite simply. Fëanáro and the lost boy’s father were now turning, wide eyed, on the Rider, clearly with something to say for themselves about this. Why would they not have? They were the ones who needed his help, after all.

The Rider simply smirked, however, nodding back towards the Trees. Out of the corner of his vision John could just catch the motion of white flapping wings. A hoot as the bird settled on a nearby branch. “Yes, and I am sure Lady Varda will be glad to hear that you have gone.”

Clumsy. But it was a start now…

John canted his head to the side, brows edging up his forehead.“I owe it to you, is that so?” he repeated.

“Yes.” The Rider insisted, staring stone-faced right back at John.

“No. I owe you nothing.” Indeed considering what he had just saved the man from it rather seemed the other way around. But John gave a shrug and there was a short pause. The Raven King raked his eyes over the Rider, and the missing boy’s father beside him. “That said, I will tell you, if only to prevent any further foolishness along the way.”

At this the Magician’s eyes fell squarely upon Fëanáro, who opened his mouth to protest --only for silence to emerge.

“Now,” the Raven King said, crossing his legs beneath him as he sat upon the forest floor, looking as at home in that very spot as he might have upon a throne, “Where shall I begin?”

#Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell #Silmarillion #John Uskglass #Celegorm #Feanor #Curufin #I feel really bad for doing this to Feanor this chapter #he's one of my favorite characters!#but also #yeah #Feanor having an encounter with a Fairy #you *know* this cannot end well xD #fic

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thewnchstrs · 5 years

Text

Riptide: Chapter 5

Pairing: JensenXdaughter!reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Disclaimers in tags

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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Jensen immediately pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Y/N’s number, his fingers shaking as he ran back inside the house.

Danneel looked up from the sink, confusion flooding her as she saw the distressed look on Jensen’s face as he passed Arrow to her.

“It’s Y/N,” he said, the words filling Danneel with instant fear, “Miles didn’t pick her up this morning.”

Jensen listened into the phone as it rang and rang and rang again before he hung up, trying to call her again. His heart raced as he prayed that she would greet him on the other end of the line. Instead, just as he’d feared, her voicemail echoed through the phone.

“I’ll check the GPS,” Danneel said, “get in the car, I’ll send you where she is.”

Just before Danneel could turn to find her laptop, she noticed Jensen didn’t move a muscle, his eyes wide as he stared at her, his chest heavily rising up and down, his hands shaking.

“Jensen- hey, Jensen!” Danneel called to him, putting a hand on each side of his face, forcing his eyes into hers, “I know you’re scared, alright? I am too. But Y/N needs us. She needs her dad, you’ve got to snap out of it, okay?”

Jensen desperately tried to slow his breathing as he nodded slowly. Y/N needed him, now more than ever, “Okay...okay.”

Without taking any longer to think about it, he grabbed the keys from the counter when a voice called out behind him.

Miles stood in the doorway, having noticed just how panicked Jensen had been, “Maybe I should drive.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

*Y/N’s POV*

I could hardly see clearly anymore. The scenic view of the city becoming smudged as if someone had rubbed their fingers over wet paint.

My head lolled to the left where Jack had leaned his seat all the way down, a small smirk playing at his lips, his eyes closed.

Was he dead? Was he asleep? Was he just riding the high? It was all a guess to me. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes away from the windshield, the swirling colors meshing together. The waves in the distance from the heat.

I absentmindedly rubbed at my inner arm again, still being constrained by the rubber elastic above my elbow. It was strange. The usual high I instantly felt after shooting wasn’t coming as fast.

I looked over at Jack who didn’t seem to be moving any time soon as I reached for the needle again. I was sure he wouldn’t like me using more than he offered. The stuff wasn’t cheap.

Pouring the powder onto the spoon I ran a lighter underneath it, back and forth, back and forth until I could pull the liquid up through the syringe.

I flicked my inner arm, pulling at the rubber band with my teeth as I stuck it in again, deeper this time in an attempt to get every drop inside.

I groaned against the band, letting my head fall back onto the seat as I dropped the needle into the pencil case between us. My heart began beating faster and faster. It was finally working. It had to be working now.

I felt a drip of something on my upper lip as I sat up. My fingers brushed at it, blood coating the tips of them them as I pulled them away.

“That’s new,” I mumbled to myself as my head fell back to the head rest, my breathing becoming quicker.

I gripped my chest, my heart feeling as if it were going to implode. My throat constricted, my airways thinning by the minute.

Watch the birds, Y/N. A voice said to me. My eyes trailed to the window, my forehead meeting the glass. My other hand clawing at it as if asking the birds to open it for me.

Watch the birds.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

*Jensen’s POV*

The car couldn’t seem to be going fast enough, even as we flew down the highway, following the GPS on Y/N’s phone. My heart pounded as we drew closer and closer but still not close enough. I didn’t know what kind of trouble Y/N was in, but I knew, deep in my gut, that if I didn’t get to her in time I would lose for good.

The thought of it shattered me. I couldn’t lose Y/N. Not now, not ever. My girl, my child who I worked harder for than anything else in the world. I would be damned if she went before I did.

“Turn left, turn left!” I shouted as Miles made a quick turn through an intersection, cars honking from every direction.

“How far are we?”

“Close,” she should be just up this hill.

Miles stepped on the gas harder as he sped toward where the GPS said she was. I became more and more worried the farther we were taken up the hill. I prayed she would still be there.

Rounding the last corner, we were at the top, accompanied by only one other car.

“Y/N,” I breathed out, jumping out of the car before Miles could even stop it. I ran towards it, pumping my legs as fast as I could before skidding to a stop at the passenger side, Y/N slumped forward in the seat.

I felt bile rise up in my throat noticing the elastic around her arm. I pounded on the window, pulling at the locked door, “Y/N! Y/N, honey please!”

“Watch out!” A voice said from behind me. Miles yielded a crowbar over his shoulder, giving me enough time to turn away as he smashed the crowbar through the backseat window, glass exploding around us.

I reached through the back window, unlocking the front door where Y/N nearly fell out of the car. I held her close, moving the hair from her pale face, “C’mon, Y/N, please.” I begged. “C’mon!”

I felt around her neck for a pulse, my heart hammering as I waited before a small thump greeted my fingers. “She still has a pulse.”

I looked over to Miles who was squatted down next to Jack who was laying in the driver’s seat. Miles shook his head, “He’s gone.”

I quickly picked Y/N up, making my way back to Miles’ car. Jack was gone, the most we could do for him now was call for help, but I wasn’t about to wait around long enough for Y/N to be gone, too. “We need to go, now.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I sat in the backseat as Miles sped toward the nearest hospital, driving even faster than before. I kept a firm grip on Y/N’s chest making sure it wouldn’t give out on us just yet. “Stay with me, honey. You’re gonna be just fine.”

My eyes bounced between Y/N to the road in front of us, my heart nearly stopping when I saw the increase in traffic.

“No, no, no.” This couldn’t be happening. Up nearly a mile ahead of us was the bright orange reflection of construction, the sun glinting off of the traffic cones. Even closer was the hundreds of cars stopped on the road. “They have to move, they have to let us through!”

“There’s no where to move,” Miles said trying his best to maneuver through the traffic.

I had two options as I sat in the back of Miles’ car. One was to wait out the traffic, to trust that Y/N’s body would be able to hold on just a little bit longer until we could make it the last half mile to the hospital. To wait and hope that we’d make it in time.

My second option was to run.

I looked down to Y/N, back up to the traffic and back down to her. I knew I didn’t have time. I knew that if I waited any longer, I would never bring her back home with me.

“We can’t wait,” I said as Miles looked up at me through the rearview mirror, “we can’t wait any longer.”

At this point, the car was stopped among the hundreds of others. I pushed the back door open with my foot as I pulled Y/N close to me, Miles yelling after me as I started down the road, in between cars, zigzagging through traffic. Shocked looks from people through their car windows as I ran by.

My legs felt like lead the further I ran, begging me to stop. The blazing sun beating down on me as I sprinted toward the hospital. My lungs burned with the effort of trying to get enough oxygen, my arms ached in the effort of keeping my daughter close to me.

It seemed nearly impossible. It was in the midst of adrenaline that I thought I could run with her all the way there. It wasn’t until I saw that beautiful sight- the hospital, just coming into view when our situation hit me even harder than before. If I don’t make it in time, I will be the reason why we have to have a funeral for our seventeen year old daughter.

Danneel flashed into my head. The sheer horror when she would find out what’d happened to Y/N. I thought of Arrow and Zeppelin who would grow up in a world without their older sister. I thought of how I would never get to walk her down the aisle. But most of all, I thought of all the things she would never be able to experience.

I always told her I’d go to the ends of the earth for her. Now was the time to prove it.

I gripped her tighter, dug my feet harder into the ground as I propelled myself forward, running faster than I ever thought possible until I’d finally made it to those large, hospital doors.

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the-modern-typewriter · 5 years

Note

i love your writing SO MUCH! if i had money id donate to your patreon (so wait a few years i guess!) i was wondering if you could write a f/f vampire/vampire hunter snippet?

“Tell me,” the vampire all but purred, “are you supposed to be the huntress or the bait?”

The huntress circled on the spot, keeping her gaze locked on that beautiful and painfully familiar creature. Her heart hammered, even when she willed it not to. The only reason she could track the other woman at all was because the vampire was letting her. And the only reason that the vampire would let her…

The huntress swallowed and cocked a brow.“Seems arrogant to assume that they can’t be the same thing. Here you are, after all.”

“Here I am,” the vampire agreed. Her gaze was locked in turn, and nothing short of hungry. A small smile played on her lips. “How could I possibly resist.”

“With some self-preservation.”

“Worried for me, dear? I could say the same about you for coming here.”

They had known each other, before the vampire turned. It didn’t help now. Maybe enough to set the trap, but not enough to make it easy to shoot.

“I didn’t come alone.”

“Neither did I.”

The huntress’s heart skipped a beat at that and the smile on the vampire’s lips grew.

“As if I’d underestimate you like that,” the vampire continued. “I know what you’re capable of. All of your friends are busy. I’m afraid it’s just you and me, now.”

“Good.”

“Oh?” The vampire stepped closer, “I suppose it is. We always did have such fun.”

“You used to be better than this.”

“So did you. I have not attacked you, and yet you would try to kill me. I’m wounded, really.”

“You have attacked others.”

“It was perfectly consensual, I’ll have you know. A vampire’s bite can be quite something, do you want to test it?”

The huntress swallowed again and had her bow aimed in a heartbeat. Nobody ever won a vampire in close combat, they moved too fast.

The vampire just smiled, head tilted. “Aim for the heart, darling. If you’re sure I have one.”

“You didn’t love me?”

“Oh, I did,” the vampire said easily. “I would have died for you. But…well, now I’m dead. And I’m not sure I want to do it for you twice.”

“I didn’t ask you to save me.”

“You still took the opportunity to run though. Don’t look so stricken…” In a distracted heartbeat the vampire was close, wrenching the bow out of the huntress’s hands. “It’s not so bad. I never could match you as a human, you always beat me in class. Now…”

The huntress staggered back a step.

“Now your heart betrays you,” the vampire said softly. She pressed a clawed hand to the huntress’s chest. “It screams out all of your secrets. Shall we keep those just between us?”

It finally occurred to her to run, to attack.

She lunged for a stake.

The vampire dropped the bow and grabbed her hands. “If you won’t aim for the heart,” she said, holding the huntress’s eyes, “I will. Don’t you know that you’re all I’ve got left of one now?”

And then the vampire’s teeth plunged into her throat.

The world turned dangerously honeyed after that.

Not a writing pr0mpt

#NOT A PR0MPT #vampires #f/f #my writing #story #ficlet #writing snippet #story snippet #creative writing #vampire x hunter

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talvin-muircastle · 5 years

Text

Victory Song

"She has the soul of a Bard," they said, "a pity she lacks the voice."

Passeria loved music. As a baby, music was the only thing that would still her when she was cranky. As she grew older, she tapped, plucked, beat rhythms on anything she could find. She had her first wooden flute not long after she could walk, and her first harp before she was ten summers old. With any of these, she could make a pleasing sound--but no tune could pass her lips without a wince from the audience. Her speaking voice was unremarkable, neither good nor bad, but the gods that had blessed her fingers with music stole it from her breath.

When she had seen thirteen summers, a Queen's Bard passed through their village. This was a rare thing, for they lived in the Marches, a day's march from the foothills that marked the border of the Kingdom, and such a noble personage did not normally risk himself so close to the fell things that dwelt in those woods. He played for them, and he sang, and Passeria's eyes shone even as her heart broke, for it was a delight to hear such music, and torture to know it would never be hers. The Bard saw her little wooden flute and invited her to play with him, an honor that the cheering villagers would not permit her to refuse.

That night, after most had gone to bed, he found her. "Your elders have spoken to me of you. Come with me. You will play. And then you will sing. And we will talk." Shaking, she followed.

He had her play her flute again, and her harp, and he had her try her hands upon his own lute. He listened closely as she beat out rhythms on her little drum, his foot tapping along the while. Then came the dreaded command: "Sing for me, child."

Tears in her eyes, she did, and she hated herself for every note. She knew the words by heart--oh, she could sing beautifully, in her heart!--but the song was that of a sickly crow, not a beautiful songbird. He nodded solemnly, and asked for another song, and she sang it. Three songs he demanded of her, each more challenging than the last, and she hated him for humiliating her so.

Finally, "Enough. Here, drink this. It is watered down, and you must replace those tears you lost." She drank, making a face at the hint of wine in the water. "Mind me well, Passeria, for this is very important: you are a Bard, and let none ever tell you otherwise. You have the talent for music, but more importantly, you have the magic that only our kind possesses." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and blinked at him, made now uncertain by his words.

"Master Bard," she whispered, "please do not mock me so." In answer, he left his own chair and took a knee before her, his eyes meeting hers.

"Passeria, I do not mock you, but speak only the truth. There is a power in your voice that I can sense. Not all music is meant for human ears, young Bard. The Gods granted me my gift that I might please Kings and Dukes and Knights and Guildmistresses. That is no small thing in this world--but the Gods granted you a gift that can part the waves of an evil sea. You have within you to do something that I cannot--that only a bare handful of men and women in this Kingdom can do. I knew this as soon as you started singing--I only made you sing three songs so I could fully judge the strength of your gift, and it is a powerful one. The Gods only grant such a gift in the time and place where it will be needed." She shook her head, understanding and yet not.

He sighed, and raised an admonishing finger, "Mind me well, Passeria! Someday--it may be soon, it may be when your grandchildren dance around you--but someday you will hear singing like unto your own! When that day comes, you must answer it with your own song! If you do not, many will die. That is your gift and your burden. Will you promise me that you will remember this?"

She gulped and said, "I swear." For the first time since they had played together by the fire, he smiled at her. Then he stood and turned to go.

He stopped at the door. "Oh, yes: the lute is yours now. You are worthy of it. I will tell your Elders." Then he was gone.

The Bard rose with the sun the next morning and rode on his way. The Elders, puzzled but obedient, confirmed that the lute was indeed hers--as was the olive-green cloak permitted only to recognized Bards. He was the King's Man, and his orders carried the weight of the King's Law.

He had also commanded that young Passeria should learn the ways of blade and bow. "She'll need them," he had said.

She wore the cloak, and practiced the lute, and found to her surprise that she was passable with the bow and better than most with the sword. The villagers were more respectful when they asked her to play of a long evening, and she went on the march-rides with the hunters, watching for sign of the evil things from over the frontier.

She never sang.

When she was sixteen, the evil things came.

It was late autumn, and the harvest was almost finished. The herds had been culled for the winter and the meat salted down. Three hunters went out looking for whatever had been savaging the pigs that were left to run wild in the woods. One came back, minus an arm.

The evil things of legend had come down out of the mountains, the evil things that had not been seen since their mother's father's mother's time. They had no names: some had the shape of beasts, some had the shape of men, some had whatever shape they pleased, but they were all bone-white, their blood did not darken as it dried but stayed crimson until the rains cleansed it, and they killed for pleasure rather than need. "Evil" was the only name that fit.

That first day, they sent runners to the garrison a day's travel further in, and they gathered what they could and withdrew inside the palisade.

The second day, they peered over the sharpened stakes of the wall and listened to the screams of the herds as the things savaged them and ran them to death.

The third day was quiet. Evil had sated itself in the night and needed to sleep.

The fourth day they knew despair, for if the runners had made it to the garrison, the soldiers would have arrived by then. They were cut off and alone.

The fifth day, the evil things attacked.

Passeria stood the wall with the hunters and the veterans, loosed arrows until her quiver was exhausted, then another took her place while she gulped down water and replenished her ammunition. They had many arrows--arrows and bolts were as good as coin at tax-time when you lived in the Marches. The Evil things had a sound battle-plan, even so: keep throwing themselves at the walls until they ran the defenders out of arrows. Foolish for any mortal host, but the monsters had the numbers to make it work.

The First among the hunters patted her on the shoulder as he came down for his own water and arrows. "How are you holding up, Passeria?"

"Well enough, I suppose. Most of my shots hit. I just hate that damned song of theirs!"

"Song? Ah, that raucous keening of theirs? Has a rhythm to it, I guess...I suppose a Bard would find it more vexing than most." Another light clout on the shoulder, and he was back to the wall and his work.

She leaned her head against the water barrel and listened to the monsters at the walls. That song...that damnable song. Everyone else seemed to tune it out, but it got inside her, into her bones, and it resonated there. Horrible, ugly, screeching...

She dropped the cup and turned to stare at the wall. What a disgusting sound...like her own singing voice.

She left her bow and quiver at the water station and climbed the short flight of steps to the top of the palisade. Someone growled a warning at her to "be careful with that thing!" and she realized that she had her sword in her hand. She looked out at the screeching, tumbling horde of their foes, and she took a deep breath.

The first note was as painful to sing as it was to hear, but it caught the attention of a thing with the head of a dog and the body of a ram that had been clawing at the logs, ignoring the arrows studding its flanks. So she sang to it, and it sat back on its haunches, staring at her raptly right up to the point that it slid back into the ditch, bright red blood mingling with the muddy pool at the bottom.

She sang louder, and more of them stopped and stared. A few raised their own voices, a chorus of demons in answer. She jumped down from the palisade, voice faltering for only a moment, and scrambled out of the ditch to face them directly.

The first thing died with her blade in its throat, never moving a muscle.

The second was man-shaped, and sang with her even as she slid the sword into its belly.

The third died under the axe of the First Hunter.

The fourth fell to a hammer blow from the smith.

The fifth opened its mouth to sing and took a shepherd's sling bullet in its gullet.

She sang and sang, voice croaking out refrains to every song she knew, and when that failed her she sang wordlessly, scales of death and blood and slaughter. The moon was high in the sky when the business was finally done, and one of the shepherds caught her as she collapsed.

The next morning they loaded her onto the back of one of the three surviving horses, which rolled its eyes at the stink of decaying bone-white flesh and blood that would not turn brown. The hunter's First and the Headwoman's son led her between them, and whenever they encountered a roving thing, she sang to it in a voice that cracked from overuse while it died under their blades. That night they reached the garrison.

The winter was hard, but the King sent wagonloads of provisions, and promised that the spring would see new herdstock sent from his own lands. Other Bards, others like Passeria, dwelt with the garrison, and patrols were pushed out almost to the foothills.

A hard winter, but filled with song.

#My Writing

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bellygunnr · 5 years

Text

Train Run, Train Fast

A Commission for the ever-lovely @allonsymituna!

The two bounty hunters were a pair-- brothers, as far as human customs go; built together, activated together, they had never been separated before. It was only fitting that as they broke into this massive facility, they'd die together, too. Such were the tapestries. They only saw the possible riches this defunct factory could net them. They did not see the warning signs as the final lock in place lit up green and the doors slid down, down, down, permitting them access into their final resting place.

The room itself-- a laboratory of sorts-- was completely metal, unrusted but untouched. Pods lined the walls, most of them empty. The ones that were full contained a bright, glowing fluid, yet as the two brothers walked among them, they only saw skeletons inside.

Half-projects. Abandoned ideas.

“Look at this one,” a brother suddenly said. His name was Bruce. “It looks like a kid.”

“Human, do you think?” said the other, and his name is Miles. “Doesn’t look very human…”

“No, it has the triangle. A reploid kid…”

“Who makes a kid nowadays? Pretty sure that’s illegal, isn’t it?” Miles said with a frown. He taps the edge of the glass.

The kid inside does nothing. Completely inert.

“Must be why the facility’s abandoned. Man, we’re not getting anything out of here, are we?”

“Could save the kid, I mean--”

“Kids aren’t money, and that’s gonna raise a lot of questions. I doubt camp would be thrilled if we brought home a reploid kid. They’d send him to scrap!”

Silence falls between them. It’s true, but you didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Maybe we should just go,” Bruce says soberly. “I don’t…”

Just then, the building shakes. The wall across from them cracks. A single red eye can be seen through the shattered steel and brick before it all falls away.

“Mavericks? Here?”

“No, those aren’t ordinary Mavs. We must have tripped an alarm-- we have to run!”

Yet as they charged for the door they came out of, more mavericks appeared, their eyes crimson and indifferent. Guns whined and lit up the dark space. Their shots were too close to go astray-- Miles and Bruce, brothers and buildmates, were obliterated to shattered broken hulls within seconds of being discovered.

And the pod they had found began to leak.

Its glass cracked.

Others cracked with it-- a couple shattered. The steel floor became slick fast, covered rapidly with water or whatever protective fluid was in the pods. The mavericks stormed it indifferently.

“Look what you’ve done-- you’ve gone and broke the whole place,” a voice complained. A tall figure floated themselves down into the broken lab. “We were supposed to keep it intact… Jeez.”

“Don’t be so hard on them, Prometheus,” a second voice said. Their voice was slightly higher, smoother-- lilting. “Oh? That must be our target. Grey.”

The one called Prometheus settled themselves onto the ground and approached said target, still dripping from his time inside the pod. A shiver shoots down his spine at the look he is given.

“Pandora? We may have some issues. How troublesome!”

“I can feel it too…”

Grey. Grey is the only thing he could remember, even as he recounts his tale to Butch, the camp medical chief. He tells him about where he had woken up at, the strange… Reploids… he had met, and what they had called him.

“Grey,” he says flatly. “Greye,” he repeats, this time with inflection.

“Grey...e?” Butch replies.

“You get it,” Greye says, and he seems happy.

“Well, Greye… You’re welcome to stay here. You’ve had quite the journey for your first day.”

Butch leaves the sentence hanging. First day as a hunter, a kid, alive, of all things. That must be why there’s something off about him, he thinks to himself. Still getting adjusted to everything.

Greye smiles. “Thanks! Uh… I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting…” “Could it be the gun in your hand? Maybe holster that?” Butch says immediately.

A beat of silence.

“...Shit, probably. It’s out of ammo anyway.”

And he drops it on the floor.

Butch groans.

The camp gives Greye a few days to learn the area and meet everyone before asking if he’d like to work. Most folks, they say, are licensed by the Legion to perform special duties and missions. They’re offering the same benefits to Greye.

He naturally accepts the offer.

And starts that day.

“Help escort this package to the Legion itself, at the center of the city. It leaves from the train this evening so don’t be late!”

Greye frowns at this. That was awfully soon-- and awfully chipper.

“What’s in the package?”

“It’s a tool called a Biometal,” and the line goes dead.

Well then.

From there, Greye meets several other people-- even another reploid kid, though they’re younger than himself. This makes him frown, but he resolves not to mention it. They could be illegal builds together! Right?

Right.

“Once I get back, kid, we can play some games or something. I’ve got some sick tricks.”

Just then, the kid’s caretaker came back, scooping her high into the air and setting her on his massive shoulders. He smiled down at Greye with kind eyes and a rumbling laugh. “You’re the new friend, right? Grey, was it?”

“No… It’s Greye!” Greye corrected, puffing.

“Ah, forgive me. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Greye scowled and ran off-- he was going to be late for that train mission! What a pain.

“...This is the worst train ride ever. What the hell.”

Greye had been tasked with protecting the secret package as it made its commute between one mysterious pair of hands to another. That sounded simple enough by itself, but the folks had loaded him on an open-faced trailer, the wind howling and lashing at him. He clung to the box-- the only strapped down thing-- desperately.

“They’re trying to kill me,” he mutters. “What the hell…”

Each bump and shudder the train took shot up Greye’s spine. He grits his teeth against the unrelenting vibrations, fingers digging into the metal crate, threatening to dent it.

Let up on the box before you hurt yourself!

“Wh-- what was that?”

Oh, dear....

Oh, this was awful. First he was put on some kind of death trial mission and now he’s hearing voices! As if he didn’t have enough to deal with already!

My name is A. You’re not supposed to hear me!

The box shook violently.

Light burst from within it.

Greye, in a fit of self-preservation, tries to flee to the other end of the cart before he catches a face full of shrapnel. As the box breaks, nothing goes flying-- it peels back as if shorn. A single item floats up from inside.

Wow! It’s bright out here!

“Whhh- hey, A? You said you’re name was A? What the fuck was that?”

We don’t have time for that! Also, watch your mouth.

“What do you mean we don’t have time?” Greye demands, bristling. Then he hears it.

A Maverick drone dives down onto the open-faced cart, its bomb load thankfully released earlier, now armed with simple claws and a small blaster. Greye screams as he dives out of the way-- and screams again as A, whatever it is, dives onto him instead.

Just trust me! Megamerge with me!

Light flares again.

Biometal and Reploid merge.

Greye has little time to become accustomed to his new body as more Mavericks begin to swarm the train. He’s equipped now with not one but two pistols, and he wields both furiously, flinching back as debris falls apart around him. A urges him to climb onto the next train car.

What else can he do but listen?

I don’t really know what’s happening, but staying alive sounds pretty okay!

“A- Agreed,” Greye hisses, boots slipping as he hops onto the covered car. He crawls across it until finding the hatch that leads inside it, hastily dropping down.

It looks clearer here.

“Does this mean the train is under attack?” Greye asks out loud.

I guess it does! We should keep going before something bad catches up with us!

“Or we catch up to something bad… What are you, anyway?”

The two of them begin to pass through train cars, Greye fumbling around each time they met an enemy. Only with A’s sharp coaching and brittle humor did he figure out the trigger from the barrel-- these pistols were much different than the one he had handled before.

I’m a Biometal. My name is A. And I don’t know much else!

Now, the car they were inside looked fairly important, filled with gadgets and shining lights that Greye couldn’t hope to understand. As he begins to walk toward the front end, the roof suddenly peels back, and a massive machine drops down.

Flame jets out from the horns on its head.

“What the fuck?”

That doesn’t look very friendly....

With a wild scream, the new machine lunges at Greye, spitting words in a broken, slanted English.

“Defects must be destroyed or captured! Master wills it!”

Greye yelps, scrambling out of the way of the mad charge.

“D- defects? I’m not the crazy one here, buckaroo!”

The big machine stops and turns, arms crossing together. Three flaming bolts are fed to life-- and Greye cannot escape. He feels his armor and skin char from the centermost arrow.

That hurt! Who does this guy think he is?!

Greye, pull the hammers on our pistols. That should shut this guy up!

Through the pain and stinging, Greye almost doesn’t hear what Model A says. His hands shake as he tries to move his thumbs from the grip to the hammers, flicking back on each. Nothing happens for a long, silent moment.

“Master wills that you must be captured for the Great Game!”

Another series of bolts are charged.

Greye lurches forward, his energy tanks suddenly empty.

The world is plunged into a deep, whirling violet, and all that Greye and A thought they knew goes very dark. Beyond them, the violet dimension they summoned seizes upon the violent deer, ripping his armour to shreds. Flame spits out wildly and unchecked from the destroyed horns upon his head. Each breath leaks fuel and smoke from his chest cavity.

A is the first to wake up when the violet world is gone.

Buckfire is still very much at large.

Hhhey, big guy! Can you hear me?

Thankfully, broken as he is, the machine snorts smoke and looks around for the voice.

Good… This kid is pretty out of it, so let’s have a little chat. Who are you? What’s going on?

“My name is…. Buckfire. Pseudoroid in service of the Master. Must destroy or capture the defect.”

Pseudoroid, huh… Well, nice to meet you. We’re not the defects you’re looking for!

Greye’s eyes pop open.

Buckfire is screaming, charging at him from where he’s lying prone on the floor. Greye screams back.

They’re both screaming.

A shouts for Greye to just start shooting, aim for the chest, do you see that core-- wow, that’s a big core--!

He shoots at the core with both pistols. The rapid barrage quickly razes what little is left of Buckfire’s chest cavity. The big beast halts--

Run, Greye! Run!

Greye has nowhere to run, so he jumps, clawing his way out of a puncture in the ceiling. He jumps again onto the next cart, then the next, body thrumming wildly and clinging to the very last vestiges of energy and strength. A has latched on much more tightly.

Staying alive is a team effort.

The back end of the train explodes behind him.

And neither of them expects what happens next.

Standing guard in front of a huge castle, head inclining to the arrival of another of your kind-- the twins, Argoyle and Ugoyle. They give you high fives to the best of each of your abilities, laughing between themselves. They’re admitted to the Master’s chambers shortly thereafter.

Even though your gaze is straight ahead, you can’t help but peek at what the twins bring out with them a few hours later. A huge pod, supported on wheels, pushed along by both on their motorized peds.

You’re transported elsewhere. All you see is dancing green light awash in water. A single silhouette of a hand fills your vision.

“Dear son, when all is said and done, you shall be the King.”

Greye comes up gasping. His energy tanks are even lower than before and his head is pounding.

“A? What was that?”

I don’t know… I really don’t know!

Greye never makes it to the Legion that day. Instead, he scurries home as soon as he finds the means to, practically running on fumes. Butch saves him from having to send his mission report in, insisting that he sleeps and recharges, promising to run him through the repairs.

He doesn’t ask about the floating rock.

Greye is good with that. He’ll tell him more the next day.

#mega man zx #mega man zxa #grey #model a #mega man #rockman

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movieexpert1978 · 5 years

Text

Upgrade Pt. 3

Another chapter for the story. I’ve been typing away all weekend as I got off of work. Hope you guys enjoy it and please leave some feedback. I’d love to know what you guys think!!!

Pt 3: Elisa learns to be a hunter warrior with Ido.

Alita battle angle and it’s characters are not my characters.

The first night Ido and Elisa went out it, they didn’t catch any marks. After a few hours of travelling down dark alleys they went home.

“So are you a doctor or not?” Elisa asks confused as they walk.

“Yes I am a doctor, but when night falls and the insomnia hits I go out as a hunter warrior.” He explains.

“A hunter warrior?”

“Yes or a bounty hunter. We kill marks and collect bounties.” He says. He brings her up to a monitor that shows the data on the current marks.

“Oh…you kill for money.” She says.

“I take the money and use it to make sure the clinic stays open, otherwise it would have closed long ago.” He adds with a sigh.

“Are there others like you…hunter warriors?” She asks.

“Yes, plenty more. Most of them are not as…how should I put it…morally pleasing as I am.” He smirks.

“You mean some just do it for the money?”

“Exactly.”

“What’s in your case?” He kneels down and opens it, showing her all sorts of parts. She watches as he connects some pieces one by one and it forms a giant hammers. “This is my weapon of choice. It’s a rocket hammer.” He says proudly. She stares at him puzzled as he holds a trigger down and blue flame bursts out of one end. He swings it to the ground and makes a decent size hole. “It adds more power so I can take care of marks faster.” He explains. He releases the trigger and the flame disappears before he takes it apart and puts it back in the case.

“Why not use a gun?” She asks. He can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Oh my dear girl, guns are out-lawed in Iron city, punishable by death. They don’t want any weapons made that could challenge Zalem in any way. I would have thought you knew that.” He says.

“I never trained with guns.” She says.

“Well that explains it.” He mutters. They go back home and go their separate ways for the night. The next morning Elisa goes out and studies all the marks carefully before she goes around the city to try and find their trail. She has a few leads by the time she comes back before dinner. That night she leads him along and they come up on a team of marks. The three of them are armed and dangerous as they glare at Elisa and Ido.

“You better back away old man and take your little girlfriend here with one.” One of them says flashing a knife. Elisa doesn’t flinch and her eyes change color. The men looked spooked as no cyborg has ever done that before. Before Ido can make a swing Elisa snarls, baring her fangs. The mark with the knife charges at her. Ido watches with both curiosity and fright as he wonders what she will do. He tries to swing the knife at her, but she catches his wrist and breaks it easily making him shout in pain. She grabs the top of his head and her fingertips have turned into claws, which are glow blue, as she swipes his throat. His head cut clean off from his body. She drops the head as the second mark charges. He is more cyborg with mechanical arms as he tries to swing at Elisa. He’s stopped when she grabs his throat, crushing it instantly, before he punches him in the face and send him smashing into a wall. His body cracks and crumbles as he falls over lifeless. The last mark is almost right at Elisa when she catches him. She shoves one arm away as she manages a punch to his face. It doesn’t do the damage she expected as he bleeds blue cyborg. She frowns before she grabs him and shoves him into the stone wall head first, knocking his head clean off.

The fight is over in under three minutes.

“My god.” Ido whispers to himself. She glances over at him.

“Did I do good?” She asks him. He just stares at her for a moment trying to figure out why she said that when it was quite obvious she did.

“You did…amazing.” He says sincerely as he walks up to her.

“Really?” She gasps.

“Yes.” He chuckles.

“Thank you!” She says giving him a smile before she collects herself. Judging by her behavior, he’s sure she wasn’t praised often and probably sent back to her room or something when her training routine was over. They go to the factory to collect the money and go home.

“Here.” Ido says handing her a few credits. She stares at them as if he’s just put a bomb in her hand.

“Why are you giving these to me? Don’t you need them for the clinic?” She says holding them back up to him.

“Yes but you took them down. You earned it.” He says.

“What do I do with it?”

“Whatever you want. You could buy something for yourself or save them. It’s up to you.” He explains gently.

“Oh…ok…thank you Doctor.” She nods.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” He smiles. She only nods as she puts the credits on the table and goes to the couch to sleep.

Xxxxxxxx

Another pattern emerges as Elisa goes out in the day time to look for marks and when she finally catches a trail she and Ido go hunting. One night he reluctantly brings Alita along. Even then Elisa is too fast for even Alita to catch up with.

“Now that was cool!” Alita grins when the fight is over.

“Uuhh…thank you.” Elisa says to her as Alita gives her a thumbs up. Not to mention that she was glad Elisa did most of the fighting and Ido didn’t come home all battered and bloody any more. They soon had enough money for things to be comfortable for a little while, but Elisa still went out to walk Iron city anyway. She was just leaving the clinic when a woman with dark hair and elegant clothing walked up to her and she had the mark of Zalem.

“You’re from Zalem!” She gasps coming right up to the woman.

“Who are you!?” She snaps at Elisa in disgust.

“Subject Ten E a.k.a Elisa Prime, humble servant to Nova and Zalem.” Elisa repeats. The woman blinks in surprise as Elisa shows her tattooed 10 E. She stares at it for a moment before she looks up at Elisa studying her.

Ido glances out the window and sees Chiren talking to Elisa. That was not a good sign and he hurries out.

“Chiren.” He calls out as he hurries over to them.

“Let me guess you found her in the scrap yard too?” Chiren says unamused.

“Yes, but Elisa is human. She’s not a cyborg.” He says.

“I know.” Chiren says looking at Ido.

“Elisa this is my ex-wife Chiren.” He says, introducing them.

“Can you get me Zalem?” Elisa asks.

“If I could get back to Zalem I wouldn’t be here.” Chiren states unamused. He can tell her words sting Elisa a little bit, but then she looks back and forth between her and Ido.

“Ex-wife…wait you were on Zalem too?” Elisa asks.

“Have fun.” Chiren smirks before she walks away. Ido suspects she was going to talk to him again about returning to the motorball games, but now that she’s seen Elisa something obviously changed. Chiren knows a lot more about Nova’s activities thanks to Vector. Who knows what kind of things they were making in that lab scientist laboratory they had. Ido guides Elisa back inside.

“Yes I was on Zalem too. Chiren and I were exiled many years ago.” He says.

“Why?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” He says.

“You displeased Nova.” She frowns.

“So did you.” He nearly snaps at her as he collects himself.

“Hey what’s going on?” Alita says sensing tension.

“Chiren was here.” Ido mutters.

“Oh…you don’t want to be around her. You can’t trust her…or did you not feel that in her energy.” Alita teases waving her hands and making Elisa frown.

“Actually…she felt a little cold now that mention it.” Elisa says.

“I’m not surprised.” Ido sighs. “Look, please just stay away from her. The people she works with…they’re not good people. They’re selfish and only do what’s best for them no matter who they hurt.” He says gravely. Elisa isn’t sure about what to make with his words, so she only nods.

“Hey I see you got some credits. Why don’t I take you to the market to get something?” Alita suggests, happily changing the subject.

“Ok.” She nods and follows Alita out. She’s not really sure what to get for a while as Alita makes suggestions.

“Oooh! Why don’t you get this bag?” She says holding it up. It was a simple black over the shoulder strap back, but it was nice and big and had a lot of pockets. Elisa looks it over. “You have to have something to put your credits in for starters.” She adds encouragingly. Elisa nods in understanding and purchases it.

“Thank you.” Elisa says to her.

“You’re welcome.” She says giving her a big smile.

Xxxxxxxxx

“We have a situation.” Chiren says to Vector.

“And what’s that?” He asks very much uninterested.

“I need to talk to Nova.” She says.

“What…oh come on!” He protests before his eyes turn blue. “And how can I be of assistance Doctor?” Nova says even though it’s Vector’s voice.

“Subject Ten E a.k.a Elisa Prime.”

“Ooh, I see.” He nods.

“Who is she?” Chiren asks. Nova sits at Vector’s computer and starts typing a few things. He puts in a flash drive and after a few minutes he takes it out and hands it to her.

“She was the most promising subject we had. She had spectacular results. She was responding so well to all the training and stresses we subjected her to, but when we started the next stage things went haywire.” Nova says leaning on the desk.

“What did you do? Give her steroids or something?” Chiren smirks, that’s so primitive even for Nova.

“No, we were on the verge of a breakthrough in genetic mutation. We had only altered her DNA in small ways, but this…this was going to change it all completely.” He says.

“I take it she didn’t react to it well.”

“It’s on that drive. All of her files on are that drive.” He explains.

“Do you want me to do anything with her?”

“No, not yet. I want to see what else she does.” He says.

“Anything else?”

“Don’t help her. She’ll come looking for you, but don’t help her. I want to see her out in the wild.” He says before he leaves Vector stumbling around and clutching his head.

“This better be good.” He mutters to Chiren.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

To try and distract her from trying to find Chiren, Ido helped Elisa register as a hunter warrior. When she came out she showed in her ID card and he gave her a proud smile.

“Is it ok I still go out with you?” She asked nervously.

“Of course!” He says wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You’re always welcome to come with me.” He says as they walk down the steps. “You don’t have to be nervous when you ask me a question. I’m not going to get mad at you. I know you have a lot to learn here.” He says sincerely.

“Thank you.” She says gently.

“Come on, let me show you a place where all the hunter warriors go.” He says. They go to the Kansas bar where some of the other hunter warriors smirk at them, but otherwise leave them be. ‘Oh great…Zapan is here,’ Ido thinks to himself. He does his best to ignore the big shot and orders a drink for the two of them.

“What is this?” She asks looking at the glass.

“It’s whisky…try it.” He says taking a small sip. Elisa copies him and she grimaces at the taste as it burns her throat. Ido can’t help but chuckle. After a moment her throat feels warm and her body seems to tingle a little bit.

“What’s this feeling?”

“It’s called a buzz. People like it a lot and that’s why they drink alcohol, which is what whisky is. You have to be careful though because if you drink too much you’ll get drunk and feel lousy the next morning.” Ido smirks as he’s done that all too often after Chiren left.

“Who says that’s a bad thing doc?” Zapan says coming up behind Elisa. She turns and glares at him.

“Uhhh…Zapan you might want to give her some space.” Ido warns her.

“Got another one from the scrap yard did you?” He smirks with his accent. Elisa looks him over quickly. He’s a total replacement cyborg for starters, wearing black leather pants and boots and not much else. He has a sword on his belt as well. A normal woman might think him rugged and handsome as he spent a lot of money on his face to look so. A piece of metal was on the center of his chin and he had a Mohawk. His metal looked good too and she hadn’t even seen the skull pattern on his back yet, but she didn’t care anyway. “You on a date with the doc here?” He teases.

“No.” She says even though she doesn’t know what a date is, so she show’s her badge.

“Oooh how cute.” He laughs as she tucks it back into her pocket. “And uhhhh…how many people you killed deary?” He mocks getting closer. Ido just frowns, knowing Zapan is going to get it sooner or later.

“I killed three marks on my first hunt with Ido.” She says.

“Wait…oh no!” He laughs. “So you’re the one people are talking about. Is it true that you can grow fangs and smash people into walls?” He jokes waving his arms.

“I don’t know…maybe.” She growls. Her eyes change color and she snarls at him with her fangs bared making Zapan yelp and jump back, falling flat on his ass.

“What the hell?” He gasps.

“Now go away.” She says flashing her claws that are glowing blue. His jaw nearly unhinges as he gets up. Some of the other patrons look at her in shock.

“You sure know how to pick the freaks doc.” Zapan says before he gets up and walks out. Her eyes return to normal and she recognizes the fear in their eyes. She turns away quickly and downs her drink, ignoring the burn it gives her.

“I’m sorry…but can we go now please?” Elisa asks Ido quietly. He nods in understanding. He finishes his drink and tips the bartender before the go home.

“Are you alright?” Ido asks before he goes to his room.

“I’m fine.” She nods quietly. She keeps her back to him as she curls up on the couch. When she hears his bedroom door close she finally allows a few tears to roll down her face.

#battle angel alita #alitabattleangel #alita battle angel #alita #christoph waltz #christoph waltz fanfiction #dyson ido #dyson ido fanfiction #fanfiction #alternate universe #cw fandom #christoph waltz fandom #christophwaltz #chapter three #zapan #chiren #more characters here #please leave feedback #thank you

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