#a huge dragon is made of tiny drops of blood

[mysticsublimeperson]

I have a Merthur AU idea!!! I have this Outlander-ish idea

Summary: What if Merlin crosses to another dimension, where the time runs differently and it’s left there, to fend for himself what to him it’s like 15 years but to the knights are just a couple of days. When the knights finally cross to rescue him they find a really hot, 30 ish Merlin that is a dragon rider and a badass and has been constructing the circle of rocks and designing spells and runes to come back to them..

Snippet of sorts:

They were investigating a new wave of new and different monsters they, (Arthur, Merlin and the knights) find themselves in front of a huge megalithic monument, it’s so big that to surround it would take a bit too much effort, just because they are all tired of riding and not finding ANYTHING even if the reports all point to this specific forest.

So they all are in front of this huge rocks and Merlin says that they should go around and NOT across because it doesn’t feel right to cross it, inside the circle the grass is tall and the flora grows freely, weird because it means no one have entered, no animal, no person… even the horses seem to be uneasy there. But the stones are clean, no moss.

Merlín feels a disturbance in the balance, the magic is exited but in tension, like waiting for something to happen. A drop to fall.

“I just… this doesn’t feel right Arthur” Merlin said growing desperate, the tension was starting to get to him. “This seems old, and unbothered, we should not be the ones to cross it, it may be a trap” he had come down of his horse because it wouldn’t get close willingly. That felt like a limit, a border, a huge sing that said DO NOT CROSS.

“You know what Merlin?” Merlin prepared to be mocked, but he honestly didn’t care if it got them out of there. He crouched, and took a little branch from the floor. Surrounding the stones he could see something, he moved the dirt to find runes. They were old. Unbothered. He could not recognize much. Some were familiar but not the same. Until…

Respect.

Eternal.

Rest.

Shit. This could be a grave. A grave of someone powerful. And this someone was asking for respect in his rest. And even dead, everything alive was still afraid of retribution.

“You are right, we will not be the first crossing this huge stupid thing…” Merlin could have cried in relief. He jumped to his feet and turned around, almost clashing with Arthur, who had got off his horse and walked up to him when he was distracted, and this huge mischievous grin in his face “You are” Just a tiny push in his shoulder, it’s all it took, it was almost comical.

“Arth…”

Merlín got up with a spring and his expression was relieved and free, and transformed into one of fear so quickly, it made him want to reach and stop his fall, to ask for forgiveness. To say that it was only dumb a joke.

Arthur could feel his blood freeze, and the time seemed to slow down. And between a heartbeat and the next Merlin was gone.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

He wanted to believe this a joke. But it couldn’t be, he seen it with his own eyes.

“MERLIN!” He shouted surprised of how desperate his own voice could sound, before he could give another step his knights stoped him. “MERLIN!” He screamed again while Percival pushed him out of the way, far from the circle.

Gwaine stepped up to the point where Merlin had been, he hadn’t left anything. The only thing that could ever hint that he had been there were his footprints in the soil.

“Sire, Arthur you need to breathe” Leon tried to get his attention.

Gwaine had his sword out, and pushed it into the circle, and nothing happened, his sword was there, not like Merlin.

He could feel the pressure in his chest, and the burning in his eyes. The anxiety felt suffocating, and suddenly Leon and Elyan were blocking his view.

“Breathe Arthur” instructed Leon, while Elyan tried to get him to imitate him.

It took be a lot more to calm down, and by the time Arthur and Gwaine were calm enough to talk the sun was already setting.

They decided to camp in silence and tension. Elyan had scouted the circle but had not found much. Like Merlin had said nothing came close to the circle, all the animal footprints stopped almost ten steps from the circle.

“But…” Elyan keep going “there’s four points where the earth has been disturbed” he tried to explain.

“What do you mean?” asked Arthur voice rough from shouting.

“There’s nothing entering the circle” he continues “I didn’t think those were footprints, because they were really big, and…” he shook his head and focused “I think the monsters have been coming from somewhere in the circle, they come out” he self finally, eyes set in the fire and voice tense.

A clash was heard and Gwaine was tackled to the ground.

“Get off me” he shouted, “if something is coming from there then I can get in” he growled.

“It’s just an idea” defended Elyan, “I know nothing of magic, there’s runes surrounding the stones! That’s what Merlin was looking before” he pointed to the circle “I don’t know if someone was summing the monsters, maybe what step inside turn into the monsters, maybe they are the sacrifice, maybe this has nothing to do w the monsters at all, and even if this is some kind of passage way, how do we know that place it's not worse” Elyan looked at Gwaine “Merlin is the one that knew most of this stuff” and Arthur’s eyes started to burn.

“I might as well killed him” he said in low voice, rough a guilty.

That made Gwaine stop.

“We” said in grave tone. “We all agreed, If you hadn’t done it yourself, I would have, it was a joke, we were stressed, and when that happen we tend to tease him, none of us took it seriously, none of us took him seriously” Gwaine let out an angry sob “that's why we need to to get him back, we need to apologize"

They start planning.

They notice that while it’s true that none animals entered willingly, when escaping from a hunter they had no problem entering.

They also find that like Elyan had said, that only happened through one of the four paths.

Birds were different, the crossed the circle all the time, they also disappeared.

They find that they can throw anything that it’s not alive and nothing would happen, sticks, rocks… but the moment it was alive it disappeared, even if that its a flower.

“This is stupid” Gwaine insisted “Let me try”

“How can we know if you are fine? How do we know if you are alive?” Arthur asked seriously.

How do we know if Merlin is alive? Everyone could hear the actual question.

“It’s useless if we lose you too” with every moment that passes his mood worsened. He felt guilty and humiliated because of his outburst, and the guilty again and sad.

“This is useless” when said and sprung to the circle.

“Gwaine!”

Before anyone could stop him, he stuck his hand into the circle, up to the elbow, and all of the could see how it vanished. Leon pushed him out of the circle and as he got out of the circle his hand came back to its rightful place.

“Oh thank gods” murmured Gwaine.

“You risked your sword arm, you idiot” Leon scolded.

Gwaine was way too happy to care.

“How does it feel?” Arthur asked checking his arm.

“It feels normal, like always, but it was really fast” Gwaine said flexing his hand and arm “Can I try again or will you freak out?”

No one said anything, no one stopped him, when he approached the circle again. He introduced his hand again slowly.

“What it is Gwaine?”

“It’s warm” he said slowly, making the knights confused.It was deep Autumn, and even if some days were warm, most days like this one were just bright and cold, and usually wet, luckily it didn’t feel like it was gonna rain any time soon “Let me see” and pushed further.

“Gwaine! Are you sure it’s safe?” Percival asked grabbing him by the other arm.

“Just don’t let me go, yeah? I still feel my arm, I can move it, It looks like only the part of me that trespasses the circle vanishes, maybe… I don’t know maybe it’s like a door, a portal? like Elyan said”

“To where?” Asked Leon.

“There’s only one way to find out” Gwaine said before pushing himself into the circle up until the waist, while Percival still held him by the other arm.

Gwaine finds that the place it’s similar, almost the same, but the circle it’s not there, there are a few rocks in place and some others around in the ground like someone was constructing this same place, the trees also looked different and like he said it was warm because it looked like a spring day. He came out and told the knights, buthere was no sing of Merlin.

“It’s been three days”

“He might have needed food”

“And water”

“Merlin is smart”

“He is resourceful"

"Check again" said Arthur, carefully "Look for specific hints, footprints, sings of a camp, struggle, something. It's been three days and if you said the weather looks tranquil then there's should be a trace of him" He was nervous, excited, he wanted to believe but he also was terribly afraid.

Gwaine nodded and went back. But something happened, Gwaine whole body tensed, so they pulled him out.

"What happened? Are you ok?"

"It changed!" Gwaine had a alerted gaze focused and confused.

"What changed?"

"Everything!" he tried to calm himself down "Th..I think the place was the same, but it was, suddenly it was night, and there was a hole like someone had been digging, probably for the rocks but... I don't understand, we didn't take long but it looked like days have happened, let me see again" before they could process anything Gwaine went back.

"What do you see Gwaine?" Arthur asked, worry forming a lump in his stomach.

"Gwaine?" Elyan asked too.

"Gwaine!" Percival took that a as a signal and pulled him out.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear us?" Scolded Arthur.

"I didn't hear anything" Gwaine answered genuine "I felt your hand, but I did not hear anything" explained " When I went back, the sun was rising, there were sings of a camp, the fire was recently put out" he kept going "I thought I heard someone but you pulled me out" accused Gwaine.

"How much time did you spend there Gwaine?" Leon asked.

"I don't know, a couple minutes, enough to see the sun rise fully"

"You were there only a few seconds"

They all processed that information in silence for a moment.

"You mean to tell me, that time runs different there"

"It appears to, sire"

"We need to get Merlin out"

"We need rope"

#merthur #au #fanfiction #fanfic #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #gWAINE #diferent dimensions #bamf merlin #worried knights #protective arthur #idea #merlin x arthur

[sweetestofchaos]

Blackthorn Ch 14 | M.YG

Pairing: Crown Prince Dragon!Yoongi x Crown Princess Impundulu!Keena  Genre: Soulmate AU | Arranged Marriage AU | Fantasy AU | Fluff | Angst  Word Count: 10.6K  Warnings: Mentions of Terminal Illness | Kidnapping | Attempted Rape | Physical Violence | Shifting | Murder | Blood | Prince Yoongi Gets His Scar Rating: 21+

My Gift To You Part 2 - The young royals sneak out of the palace and go to the night market.

a/n: Like before I will put a warning where the violence/ar starts and ends with ⚠⚠⚠. The fighting and Yoongi's eye injury will be described but I will not go into too much detail about the attempted rape.

a/n 2: As always thanks to @sailoryooons for making the banner. Thanks to @theharrowing for being the beta this chapter.

Harrow and Hali both took time out of their lives to listen to me rant and overthink about different parts of this. I made things 10x harder for myself and they both just said "stop. take a minute and rethink this. do you need shit to be this complicated? can you simplify it?" and guess what? I damn sure could and I did. So thank you so fucking much to the both of them!

a/n 3: @minisugakoobies, my darling Sunny is heaven sent! She helped me with the fight scene. So huge shout out to her!!

a/n 4: The awesome scar free Yoongi edit in the banner is made by @colormepurplex2. Character asks and the taglist for Blackthorn are always open!

Taglist: @thickemadame ​​@loisje123

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Prince Yoongi held out his hand and Hoseok placed something in his palm. He walked to the Princess and took her outstretched hand in his own before he kissed her knuckles. She still wore his rings on her left hand and he grinned since her right hand was bare. Silently, he raised his hand and slipped a gold ring onto the Princess’ ring finger. Her eyes widened and Prince Yoongi winked as he released her hand. She looked at the ring in awe, it was a plain gold band that split into tiny branches that held an emerald-cut smoky quartz gem the size of a lima bean.

“Shall we, my gem?”

Hidden from the eyes of the crowd, Prince Yoongi stood with Princess Keena at the base of the steps leading towards the arena. Aga and Hoseok were on high alert as the cheers from the townspeople reached the high heavens. Music played loudly, and the Princess could feel the beat in her bones. The Prince squeezed her hand lightly, brought her fingers to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“We will part for only a moment, Princess. Two blinks and you will be back by my side where you belong.” The Prince explained with a soft smile on his face as his thumb brushed over the rings on the Princess’ fingers. 

“You have nothing to fear.”

Princess Keena nodded her head and allowed for Yoongi’s hand to pull away from her own. Their fingertips bent to catch each other’s and the Prince smiled reassuringly. As his hand dropped away from the Princess, Aga and the other guards crowded around her, barricading the space with their bodies. Yoongi held his head high as he ascended the steps, his face void of emotion as the crowd's sounds and chatter became louder. 

The music switched, signaling the entrance of the Prince and once more the crowd fell silent as the eunuch spoke loudly.

“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince Yoongi!”

The sun above caressed the Prince’s face as he emerged from the shadows, the bold colors warmed his skin as they absorbed the heat from the rays and the scales on his jaw caught in the light. A vision of raw power and perfection, just as a Prince should be. A few bodies in the crowd leaned in and whispered to each other in the stands about the Prince’s attire. It was bright and unfamiliar, a style that many (if not all) had never seen before.

The Prince stood before his parents and bowed to show his respect. The Empress’ eyes flashed gold and Prince Yoongi stood in front of his throne with his back facing it. Emperor Min motioned for his son to take his seat and cleared his throat before he stood to address the people.

“The sun shows us favor by shining us with its light! It is a most joyous day in the Min Empire, my dear subjects!” Empire Min clapped his hands together once before he folded them within his robes and smiled. “Today marks a new era for the Min Empire!”

All around everyone started to cheer, a new era meant an increase in imported goods and money. A new era was good health and longevity to all. A new era was something none of the commoners in attendance were expecting. Emperor Min sat back down and nodded his head to the eunuch to continue on.  Standing tall, the eunuch unrolled the scroll in his hand a little more and held it out in front of himself, making sure not to block his face as he read the written words.

“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince Yoongi is to be wed in the seventh month as in accordance with the unification to the land to the east, the Escistan Kingdom. As peacetime reigns over our lands, war rides the coattails with an unrelenting force.”

The news of the Prince’s engagement was cause to celebrate. There would be a Princess in the palace, the likes of which no one has ever seen before. She was from the Escistan Kingdom, a land unknown to most of the common folk. However, at the mere mention of war the crowd started to grow uneasy. News of the West’s plight against the Escistan Kingdom was common knowledge. The foreign land had many sought-after resources, magical and null alike. An alliance with the Escistan Kingdom would open up a new trading route and bring in more wealth for the people of the Min Empire. 

“Standing beside our allies of the Escistan Kingdom to show a united front in the face of an impending war-” the eunuch paused for dramatic effect and Empress Min laughed to herself. 

“To show those in the West that we stand strong, Her Royal Highness Princess Keena has accepted His Imperial Highness’ hand in marriage!”

Upon hearing her name, Princess Keena took a deep breath in and gathered her skirts in her hands. The wind picked up and flower blossoms rode the breeze by the entrance from which the Prince first came. The Princess rolled her shoulders back and held her head high as she took the steps one at a time to reach the balcony of the pavilion where the royal family all sat. Dogwood petals danced around her as she stepped into the light and the eyes of every person burned deep in her heart. If the Prince was a vision of power then the Princess was that same vision wrapped in beauty and elegance.

The Princess squeezed her skirts and relaxed her hands before she allowed the material to fall loose. The sun greeted her with open arms while a cool breeze pushed her towards the waiting royal family in a spotted blanket of petals. In front of the Emperor and Empress, Princess Keena crossed her arms over her chest and bowed. Empress Min smiled softly at the show of respect from the Escistan Kingdom. She is proud that Keena is willing to incorporate her nation’s practices into what she has been taught during her stay in the Min Empire. 

Emperor Min bowed his head and the Princess turned on her heels to face the crowd. Prince Yoongi rose to his feet and strode over to stand by the Princess’ side while the eunuch continued his speech. He listed off the Princess' credentials, the status of her homeland, her role within her nation, her achievements, and much more. By the end of the speech, the crowd was impressed.

The Princess of the foreign nation was a woman for the people and within the Min Empire that attitude would take her far. As the young royals stood side by side, everyone took in their appearance. The Prince’s attire complemented the Princess’ in style and color. The unknown style of some of the garb was contributed to the Princess’ homeland of Escistan. A few of the women in the crowd wondered to themselves if the fabrics and styles would be something they would see sold at stalls in town at some point. Maybe not as bold in color but the style was in favor, the skirt of the Princess’ outfit looked easy to walk in.

“I give you, His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Yoongi and Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Keena!”

Princess Keena did not miss the change of her title, the new power suddenly granted to her as the arena ruptured into loud cheers and claps. People shouted their joy and excitement as they watched the royal family all sit together. Dancers and musicians went back into the center of the area and put on a show. The Princess was surprised to see Ellarian and Kwangseon in the mix of bodies. Ellarian took the lead as she leapt and twirled with the other women while Kwangseon kept the tempo on his Janggo. Princess Keena tapped her fingers to the beat and when the Prince noticed, a smile pulled at his lips.

He leaned over and whispered in the Princess’ ear, “Are you enjoying yourself, my gem?” 

The way the sun kissed the scales on the Prince’s jaw, a mini rainbow appeared on the Princess’ neck and the Prince smiled as he nuzzled his nose underneath her ear. So close to the gland at her neck, the Prince inhaled deeply and smirked as goosebumps rose on the skin underneath him. The sweetened tang of citrus doused in honey blanketed the Prince’s mind and he purred, his inky eyes swirling with gold as he tried to pull himself away. Princess Keena rested her hand on top of the Prince’s and laced their fingers together.

“Behave, my Prince.”

The Prince growled as the Princess squeezed his hand lightly and she turned her head to face him. His nose skimmed her cheek and pressed into the corner of her mouth, she was thankful that no one was truly focused on them. Without a word, the Princess kissed the Prince’s nose and snuck a quick kiss to his lip. Ginger, spicy and warm, surged around the Princess and Hoseok coughed from somewhere in the distance.

“Focus, young ones.” Empress Min’s voice was as firm as it was teasing, just enough to pull the Prince from his muddled headspace.

“Apologies, mother.” Prince Yoongi muttered and pulled away from the Princess but he refused to let go of her hand.

The announcement celebration came to its end soon after. The royals took their leave, the Emperor and Empress arm in arm while Prince Yoongi offered his hand to the Princess. Hoseok resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friend's display of affection while Namjoon and Seokjin giggled with each other. Aga shared a knowing look with Hoseok as the two followed the family downward. At the bottom of the steps, out of the people’s sight the Emperor and Empress embraced the young royals.

“Welcome to the family my dear,” Empress Min cooed as she cupped the Princess’ face lovingly. “You will bring a new chapter to this world and I am eager to watch it unfold.”

“Easy, deartheart.” Emperor Min placed a hand on his wife’s lower back as he stood by her side. “They still have much to learn. Let us not rush the process and-” A sudden cough interrupted the Emperor's words and he quickly covered his mouth as he fell into a fit. Empress Min rubbed his back and motioned for guards to step in.

Daehyun came forward and helped support the Emperor before Hoseok pulled a starstone from the jumeoni at his hip. He crushed the stone and blew the dust over the Emperor silently. Empress Min gave everyone a tight smile.

“Worry not, His Majesty is fine. The pollen in the air is heavy today.” 

Princess Keena nodded her head and squeezed the Prince’s hand when he didn’t respond to his mother’s words.

“Give His Majesty our regards and rest well,” Princess Keena bowed her head and the Empress smiled before she took off to her husband’s chambers with guards behind her. 

Prince Yoongi watched as his mother disappeared with a frown on his lip. A gentle pressure wrapped around his fingers and he glanced down to see that the Princess had placed her hand in his. Her fingers were so small compared to his own and he sighed as the frown melted from his face. Raising her hand to his lips, Prince Yoongi kissed the tips of the Princess’ fingers and smiled.

“Shall we walk in your garden, my gem?”

The Princess stared into the Prince’s dark eyes and squeezed his hand lightly before she tugged it down to their sides.

“It is as much mine as it is yours, my Prince.”

The grin widened on the Prince’s face and he nodded his head silently. Together, arm in arm, the young royals strolled the pebble paths, crossed the bridges over gurgling waters, and admired the colorful flowers as they walked from the palace front to the eastern wing. The place where the seventh garden, filled with Blackthorns from the Princess’ homeland, created the perfect picture of peace.

The sweet almond scent from the blackthorn blossoms filled the air and intermingled with the flowers scattered throughout. The faintest echoes of rushing water hid in the canopies of the trees and the Princess felt herself breathe for the first time today. 

All worry vanished from her body the moment she stepped foot on the lush green grass of the garden. She loved this place more than anything in the whole palace (excluding the Prince). This was a place of silent devotion, filled to the brim with a tenderness that only the young royals could truly appreciate together.

Hoseok and Aga spaced out the other guards in the garden, making sure to give the simulated couple their space. If the Prince sat on the ground with the Princess between his legs, arms wrapped around her waist as they shared whispered words, the guards turned a blind eye.

Aga gazed up into the sky and inhaled the scents of his homeland. His chest ached for a short moment before he closed his eyes and drank in the warmth of the sun. Once the Princess was wed to the Prince, Aga would go back to Escistan. He would leave the Princess to Hoseok, who in Aga’s eyes was more than capable of protecting her. He would leave Mingi as the head of the Princess’ guards and put Chan as his right hand. Together with the rest of the guards, the Princess would be safe. Standing by the Prince’s side, the Princess would be happy.

"Rete tann mwen, mon amour. Jis yon ti tan ankò." 

Aga opened his eyes at the sound of movement from his right and Hoseok was making his way over. Aga rolled his shoulders and glanced at the young lovers, lost in their own world, hidden from the many eyes of the palace.

“We must head back soon.”

Hoseok’s voice was soft and low as if he spoke any louder he would disturb the atmosphere that the Prince and Princess had created. Aga nodded his head in agreement. A luncheon was scheduled for members of the council to pay their respects to the young royals. It was within two hours and the couple parched under the tree needed to freshen up before they stood before the council members. 

Grunting, Aga made his way over to the young couple and offered the Princess his hand to help her up. The Prince stayed close by the Princess’ side as they traveled back to the palace arm in arm. They spoke in hushed whispers and the Princess’ suppressed giggles made those around them smile. How light the palace had become since the Princess’ arrival. A true breath of fresh air and eased the worry of most servants. 

Outside of the Princess’ chambers, Prince Yoongi lifted their clasped hands to his lip and whispered tender words that made a wide smile pull at the Princess’ lips. Heat warmed her face and she was quick to slip into her room, a hurried wave over her shoulder as her handmaid swarmed her. The door shut with a firm thud and the Prince sighed.

“Let’s get this over with, Hoseok.”

Prince Yoongi nodded to Aga and the other guards before he disappeared into his room beside the Princess’ two yards down. Once in his room, the Prince freed his hair from its bun and Hoseok pulled it into a low ponytail that rested against the Prince’s back. They sat on the settees and couches in silence, letting the events from earlier play in their minds.

In the Princess’ room, she was stripped of her clothing and led into the warm waters of her bathing room. Hyejin used a loofah to exfoliate the Princess’ skin before she washed away the light layer of sweat and makeup. Sweet almond and mint oils were mixed into the water creating a soothing aroma that made the Princess sink into a peaceful headspace. The Prince’s words from the garden played in her mind and she smiled to herself.

“Wait for my word. You will know when it’s time.”

For the next few hours, Princess Keena was pampered by her handmaids and dressed in a beautiful rosewater and lilac bazin brocade boubou. The sleeves were wide and flowing, creating a wing-like appearance as the Princess moved about her chambers. Her braids were piled into a high crown-like bun on the top of her head with two single braids framing her face at the sides. Butterfly and daisy-shaped meori-kkoji were played in her hair for added splendor before rouge was brushed onto her cheeks and lips. The Princess’ eyes were lined in black kohl, elegant wings drawn at the ends.

Prince Yoongi wore deep blue baji with a thick golden band at the bottom with a matching jeogori. Two four-toed dragons were stitched into the shoulders of the jeogori. The Prince’s long blonde hair wrapped and pinned at the top of his head in a black sangtugwan with his golden dragon donggot to bring attention to the two dragons that gleamed on his shoulders. Gold hoop earrings rested in the Prince’s ears and many chunky gold rings decorated his fingers. He was ready and with one final touch to her outfit, so was the Princess.

In the hall when the young royals stood before each other, the Prince smiled at the sight of his betrothed. She was a vision, pure and sweet in colors that pulled an angelic hue from her skin. The side of Prince Yoongi’s lips lifted as he noticed the familiar norigae that hung from the Princess’ hip. The white moonstone and golden tassels complemented the softer colors of the Princess’ garb and a low rumble crept from the Prince’s throat.

“Your beauty never ceases to amaze me, my gem.” 

Prince Yoongi spoke calmly as he offered his arm and Princess Keena rolled her eyes playful as she slipped her arm in the crook of the Prince’s elbow.

“I could say the same for you, my Prince. Blue is a handsome color on you.”

Hoseok cleared his throat and the Prince frowned at the interruption. Smiling, Hoseok motioned for the couple to move along.

“We need to go now, your Highness.” 

On the way to the luncheon General Daehyun informed Hoseok that the Prince’s parents would not attend the luncheon but gave their best wishes. As acting host, the Prince sat proudly in the Orlilurth Throne, and when Princess Keena moved to sit beside him in a beautiful hand-carved throne that was smaller but no less regal looking, a deep growl echoed in the hall.

The Princess stood unphased in front of the smaller throne and all eyes were on the young royals. Prince Yoongi’s eyes started to swirl with gold as he rose to his feet and took a few steps to stand in front of the Princess. Wordlessly, the Prince grabbed the Princess’ elbow lightly and guided her to the Orlilurth Throne. His hand slid down the length of her arm and their fingers linked together loosely. The command was silent, a deadly dare for those around to voice their concerns. No one moved and no one breathed as the Princess sat in the Orlilurth Throne and crossed her hands in her lap. 

Prince Yoongi huffed out a thick plume of smoke from his nose and motioned for someone to take the smaller throne away before he sat beside the Princess. After the show of dominance, official after official stood and bowed to show their respect. The vein in Hoseok’s temple was throbbing but he stayed quiet and watched as Prince Yoongi kept his face blank while Princess Keena sipped her tea. She smiled politely and listened to the spoken promises and superficial wishes of good health with tender eyes.

The people before her were not the ones who would sit in power once Prince Yoongi took the throne. Their sons, nephews, and cousins would take their place and pledge their loyalty to Prince Yoongi’s reign. For now, the young royals played their part and accepted the endless praise. Aga and Hoseok kept a close eye on everyone in the room, with so many new faces before the Princess, Aga felt on edge. His time spent in the palace consisted of training guards, war meetings, and watching over the Princess. There were many in this room that Aga had yet to meet and they could be a threat. 

Green-lentil jelly, pancakes, and sashimi were shared with the council members. Along with honey glazed duck, spiced jams, sweet breads, flan, pork dumplings, somen noodles in a tasty and creamy sesame miso soup, and much more. Dancers in elegant peony pink and baby blue hanbok performed a feather dance and kept the council entertained while musicians played music. The meeting hall soon filled with laughter and loud voices as the council members started to relax and enjoy themselves. 

Prince Yoongi paired a slice of beef with gat kimchi and cleared his throat softly, “My gem?”

The Princess pulled her eyes from the dancers and the smile that graced her face made the Prince’s neck heat as he stared at her. He held his chopstick in his hand, the end pitched a nice mouthful of food and he leaned closer to the Princess.

“Try this, I think you will like it.”

Princess Keena made sure that her sleeves were out of the way before she leaned forward and allowed for the Prince to feed to her. The meat was tender and melted on her tongue while the gat kimchi held a slight crunch before it slid down her throat. The Prince stared at her expectantly and she smiled.

“That was not the kimchi I’ve had before.”

The Prince grinned, pleased to see the Princess reach for more of the beef and gat kimchi. He informed her that it was the Emperor’s favorite type of kimchi and that his mother, the Empress, disliked it very much.

“And you, my Prince?” 

Prince Yoongi took a sip of his water and looked at the kimchi before he turned to the Princess to see that she had her own hand held out towards him. He licked his lips and leaned in, not once taking his eyes off her. As his lips wrapped around the beef and gat kimchi he winked with thin golden bands circled around his irises. Swallowing down the food, Prince Yoongi allowed for himself to move closer to the Princess, their thighs touched as his nose brushed against her temple and he purred low in his chest.

“I can think of something far superior.”

The side-eye from the Princess wasn’t missed by the Prince and he chuckled as he pulled away, his face pleased and smug as one side of his mouth turned upward. Princess Keena slowly turned to face the Prince and clicked her tongue before she spoke.

“There is a saying in my land,” Princess Keena lifted a cup to her mouth and sipped her tea. “Silans, tou, se yon lang.”

The Prince’s brows pulled together in confusion and the Princess smiled as she motioned for Aga to come to her side. “Silence, too, is a language.” 

As Aga reached the Princess’ side, she rose to her feet and bowed her head.

“I will retire for now, Your Highness. I must check on Cookie.”

The Prince watched as the Princess was led away and he laughed to himself. He could smell the Princess’ arousal the moment he invaded her space. Sitting upright, Prince Yoongi looked out at the council members and motioned for Hoseok. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” 

“Have Seokjin take over in my stead. I have prior engagements I must see to.”

Hoseok stared at the Prince for a while and sighed when his emotionless expression gave nothing away.

“As you wish.”

The Prince rose to his feet and everyone in the room quickly scrambled to their feet. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back as he looked out at the council members.

“Enjoy your meal and drink to your heart's content. This feast was a great honor to spend with all of you here today. As the great ones before me, I wish you all a good time. I must take my  leave for now.” Prince Yoongi spoke clearly and watched with dark eyes as everyone in the room bowed. He smirked in amusement and turned on his heels before he left the meeting space with Hoseok at his side. Seokjin sat at the bottom of the stairs where a chabudai table and chair was placed. The throne was left empty and as everyone took their seats, Seokjin smiled and raised his cup as a silent toast. 

Since the announcement in the morning and during the luncheon, the Princess’ maids and other attendants have moved most of her belongings into her room within the palace. The butterfly house was still the Princess’ cherished getaway but now that her title had changed, she was expected to stay in the palace with the other royals even with Agust’s recurring appearances.

At the butterfly house, the Princess sat outside and watched Cookie as he chased a butterfly. The boubou from earlier was replaced by a cream blouse with wide sleeves and a scoop neckline that had a soft geometric pattern. A peach wrapper sat on the Princess’ hips, an overall simple look compared to what she wore during the announcement ceremony. 

San and Kai are on guard. The pair shared a knowing look as they watched the Princess admire the flowers that Namjoon had planted.

San was nervous and excited for tonight. Together with Kai and Minho, the three made sure that everything would be perfect for the Princess’ first unofficial visit into the town. The night market was a major event in their town. Merchants and entertainers came from all over to share their goods and stories. There would not have been a better time than tonight to sneak the Princess out of the palace.

Footsteps crunched on the walkway and Princess Keena looked up, a smile spread wide on her face.

“Seokjin!”

Seokjin was dressed down from what he wore in the early morning like most of the palace staff that held positions of power. A white cross-collared shirt dropped into a white skirt with a thick pale grey silk belt wrapped around his waist. He wore a scalloped seashell-colored open cross-collared jacket over top that had pale grey and cream rumen flowers stitched along the wide sleeves. His dark bangs framed his face while the rest of his hair was pulled into a high half bun, half ponytail style that had a good portion of his hair cascading down behind his shoulders.

A wide smile took over Seokjin’s face as the Prince called his name and he continued his way to her. Once in front of the Princess, Seokjin bowed and clapped his hands.

“You looked stunning on that stage, Princess. You looked regal and elegant, a true blood born leader.”

“You flatter me, Seokjin.”

“Nonsense, Princess. You had everyone on their toes. The women of the court have yet to shut up about your attire. They are already requesting the style.”

Princess Keena felt her face warm at the news and shook her head softly. Seokjin jumped at the sudden weight on his foot and when he looked down, Cookie was sitting on his toes. Bending down, Seokjin scooped the tiger cub up with a huff. 

“He has gotten bigger since I last saw him.” Seokjin spoke as Cookie head butted his chin. “Soon none of us will be able to carry him.”

“I’m sure my guards will be able to handle Cookie. He’s just a big baby.”

The Princess reached out and scratched behind Cookie’s ears as she spoke and smiled at Seokjin.

“What brings you to the butterfly house?” 

Seokjin set Cookie down and offered his arm to the Princess, “Since His Highness is busy with his own tasks, I thought I would offer to keep you company.” Seokjin explained as the Princess slipped her arm into the crook of Seokjin’s elbow. “I really must apologize for not taking the time to visit more often.”

“You are a busy man, Seokjin. Why should I fault you for doing your job?”

Seokjin’s cheeks flushed at the Princess’ words and he started to walk along the path through the garden.

“You are too kind Princess. Your gentle candor is refreshing.” Seokjin watched his steps as Cookie ran around them in circles. “His Highness was blessed by the ones before us to have you intertwined into his life. Together, with you by his side-” Seokjin grins and chuckles, “I see a long and beautiful union for all of us.”

Seokjin had spent a few hours with Princess Keena. At some point Kai left his post by the Princess’ side; he felt unwell. Minho took his place and San knew that it would soon be time for the night’s operation to begin. 

Conversation between the Princess and Seokjin was easy. As the sun started to sink in the sky, the Princess voiced that she had felt unwell and when Seokjin offered to escort her to her chambers, Minho and San took over. They reassured him that the Princess would be okay and that he need not worry about her care. Seokjin watched as the trio walked back to the palace and he chewed on his bottom lip in worry.

In the palace, Hoseok and Aga were informed of a sudden council meeting to discuss the ongoing war and strategies to ensure an overall victory. When Hoseok left his post, Kai slipped into the Prince’s room with a small bag hidden within the belt of his outfit. Prince Yoongi sat alone in his chambers behind his desk with a scroll in front of him. Upon Kai’s arrival, the Prince rose from his seat and motioned for the guard to follow him into his bed chambers. 

In the room, Kai removed the bag from his belt and laid the contents out on the Prince’s vanity. Charcoal and commoner clothing were bundled together neatly and the Prince was impressed. Kai helped the Prince strip out of his regal clothing and carefully dressed him in the simple hanbok before he removed all the jewelry. He sat in front of the mirror and watched as Kai came up behind him. In his hands was a small cup of water and he set it on top of the vanity before he grabbed a brush and detangled the Prince’s hair. 

Once the Prince’s hair was knot free, carefully Kai pressed the charcoal stick to the blonde hair. Again and again, Kai repeated the process before he ran a fine toothed comb through the Prince’s hair to fully cover the hair. Gone were the blond strands, now replaced with flat ink black. Prince Yoongi was fascinated as he turned his head from side to side to get a better view of his dark hair. Kai pulled it into a high bun that sat on top of the Prince’s head with a simple black cloth tied around to keep it in place.

As he stood from his seat, the Prince smoothed out his hanbok and gave Namjoon a tight-lipped smile. 

“How do I look?”

Kai eyed the sand-colored jeogori that hung from the Prince’s shoulders. The matching baeja was simple enough with a white trim along the hem. The beige baji paired well with the straw jipsin shoes. The dark strands of hair really made all the difference and Kai nodded his head, pleased with the Prince’s disguise.

“I would give you a few coins if you asked.”

A smile stretched across the Prince’s face at Kai’s words and he laughed. 

“Everything else is ready for tonight?” 

“Yes, Your Highness. I recruited the help of Byulyi to assist the Princess in dressing.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes as he frowned, unimpressed with the news of Byulyi now knowing about his plan. He didn’t want more people to know about his whereabouts, but it couldn’t be helped. The Princess did indeed need help to get ready and that was a fact that the Prince had not accounted for.

In the Princess’ chambers, Byulyi helped her into the hanbok that the Prince had gifted to her a few nights ago. The other handmaids were dismissed by the Princess in fear that she would get them sick as well. Byulyi had been the first to speak up about staying behind and passed a note to the Princess while she clasped her hands tightly. The Princess agreed with little to no argument and the others left with low bows.

The sand-colored jeogori with its thick beige cuffing fitted the Princess loosely and the beige pleated chima swayed around her feet. The cognac colored norigae was carefully attached to the Princess’ skirt by Byulyi before she was led over to the vanity. Byulyi pulled the Princess’ braid to the back of her head and twisted them into a single plait that rested against her back. The cream silk ribbon with gold larch and lupine flowers embroidered at the ends was tied to the bottom of the plait to complete the look.

As the Princess walked over to the tri-view mirrors, she smiled at her overall appearance. Her makeup had been removed and replaced with a simple neutral smokey eye and a rose tinted balm to her lips. The only jewelry that she wore were the two rings with thin gold bands and three white scolecite gems on each that the Prince had gifted to her. The engagement ring was tucked away with the rest of the jewelry for safe keeping. Princess Keena had been reluctant to remove the precious gift but Byulyi had reassured her that it would be safer to leave it behind.

Out in the hall, Wonho and Jooheon stood guard. They were determined to make sure that the Princess wasn’t disturbed while she rested and recovered from her sickness. Inside the Princess’ chambers, Byulyi lit a candle and walked over to the closed window. As she opened it quickly and stood with her back facing the Princess. Silently, Byulyi covered and uncovered the flame six times before she blew out the candle and walked away from the window. The Princess was confused but Byulyi gave her a knowing smile.

“Be safe tonight Princess and have a wonderful time.”

Byulyi draped a dark cloak around the Princess’ shoulders and carefully lifted the hood over her head.

“Where am I going, Byulyi? His Highness didn’t tell me anything.”

“You will learn in due time, Princess.”

A soft knock at the window made the two women turn around and Princess Keena was surprised to see San standing in the window; his calcite eyes glowed in the darkness. 

“Time to go, Princess.”

Byulyi and San helped the Princess climb out the window and Byulyi wished them luck once more before she closed the window and covered all the sunstones for the night. Princess Keena stayed close to San’s side as he led her through a series of twists and turns until they reached a small cluster of trees. It was dark and grew darker still. As they approached, shadows started to move and the Princess’ steps faltered.

One of the shadows stepped out of the darkness and as it was bathed in silver moonlight, the Princess’ mouth dropped open in awe. There stood the Prince dressed in clothing that did not befit his status and his blond hair was gone. Dark inky locks gleamed in the moonlight, and the Prince’s lips were turned upward as he extended his hand outward towards the Princess.

"Ann ale."

Colors. So many colors, sounds, and scents surrounded the Princess as she walked beside the Prince in the busy streets of the town’s night market. The main market was lit up with sunstones that were strung up high from stall to stall. A web of lights encased in handcrafted lanterns of different colors. Hand-carved and painted signs with the names of products and pricing covered all the stalls while some had no signage. Minho and San kept ten paces from the young royals as they explored the wonders of the night market.

“Ddeokbokki! Fresh ddeokbokki!”

“Bindaetteok! Nice hot, bindaetteok!”

“Samgyupsal! We have samgyupsal!”

In the distance, a pansori told the story of how the Min Empire came to be while another one sang about the war in the West. People moved to and fro, stall to stall with baskets filled with goods. It was exciting and the Princess took it all in. The Min Empire at night was beyond her wildest dreams. Intoxicating scents of perfumes and oils danced in the air and mingled with the sweet aromas of the food. The floral and spicy scent led lonely and stressed women and men alike to the middle of town where The Vine, a prosperous inn known for its more carnal pleasures, resided.  

The building was three stories high with thick wooden posts painted a deep blue out front to hold up the impressive nameplate. The whole building was a mix of blues, creams, and golds. Splashes of brighter colors were hidden away in the rooms reserved for private use. A group of four, two women and two men, stood outside of The Vine to entice those who passed by. Their grabs were soft muted tones of pinks, reds, purples, and blues. Their necks were exposed and if their robes slipped from their shoulders, a helpful hand would fix it.

The Prince had spoken with San and Kai about The Vine, he knew to avoid that area and the walkways were wide enough to do so. Princess Keena pulled at the Prince’s hand and he allowed himself to be dragged to a vendor that sold norigae. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back as the Princess asked the merchant questions and silently inhaled the sweet tang of honey-dipped tangerines. The satgat on top of his head hid his face from those around him, only showing his mouth when he lifted his face enough to speak to different vendors. 

Prince Yoongi felt himself cross his eyes for a moment as a norigae was suddenly shoved in his face. He blinked a few times and carefully took the knotted silk in his hands. The craftsmanship was impressive and the colors were complementary to a few of his darker outfits in the palace. Red and gold silk rope was woven together in an intricately knotted design with three hanging tassels at the bottom, red on one side and gold on the other.

“The little lady has an eye for the best!” The merchant praised and Yoongi raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention to the Princess.

“My wife finished that one this afternoon, it took all month to make.”

The Prince reached into the waist of his hanbok and wrapped his fingers around his jumeoni that held his money. He asked the price and paid for it without blinking an eye. Princess Keena leaned into his side and the Prince swallowed down a pleased rumble in his chest. The merchant placed the norigae into a small wooden box and wrapped it in a tan cloth. Before he could hand it off, Prince Yoongi gave the merchant a nameplate and asked to keep it on hold. Anything that was purchased in the night would be picked up later on in the week to avoid any suspension. 

Princess Keena slipped her hand into the Prince’s and together they walked to a stall that made the Price smirk. He recognized the name of the stall, it was the vendor that sold the sweet treats. He had a few tables set up for people to sit down and enjoy their food to which Prince Yoongi pulled the Princess in that direction. They sat across from each other at a table and the Princess looked around excitedly. Her eyes were wide as they bounced from place to place. The light of the sunstones reflected in her eyes and the Prince found himself reaching his arm out across the table. 

Princess Keena grinned down at his hand and cupped the back of his hand in hers. Using her other hand, she traced invisible shapes into the Prince’s palm with the tips of her blunt nails. A pleasant shiver crawled down the Prince’s back and he carefully removed his hat, placing it on the seat beside him. He made sure to choose a table that wasn’t in the direct light of the sunstones so that he could enjoy this moment.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my gem?”

“There are no words to express my gratitude...Yoongi.”

The Prince’s fingers wrapped tightly around the Princess’ fingers and he purred. He brought the Princess’ hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips one by one. He never took his eyes off hers and smirked as silver started to quiver to life in the darkness.

A waiter came over to take their order and the Prince rattled off a few different treats. Everything was picked with the knowledge that he had gained over the time spent with the Princess. Hotteok, danpatjuk, yakgwa and manju with a pot of tieguanyin tea on the side.

In the palace, Hyungwon and his assistant Yunho, a dwarf cyclops, tended to the Emperor as he laid in bed. Empress Eunkyung sat at his bedside, eyes bloodshot and puffy from her endless crying. The Emperor was ill and his sickness incurable. From Hyungwon’s examinations and tests, Emperor Chungho had three months to live; six at the most. It was a sickness of his lungs and from what Hyungwon saw, they were slowly withering away bit by bit. The blood that the Emperor coughed up was proof of his lungs' degenerative state.

The news was swiftly delivered to Hoseok and Aga as they exited the war meeting together. They decided to tell the young royals together in hopes that they would be able to comfort each other. Prince Yoongi wasn’t in his chambers, the guards at his door informed Hoseok that the Princess had fallen ill, so His Highness had gone to stay by her side. Aga bristled at the news but kept his thoughts to himself. They made their way to the Princess’ chambers where Chan and Jooheon stood guard.

“Why was I not informed of the Princess’ state?” Aga glared at the two guards and Chan stood his ground.

“Byulyi said that she sent word to you already. Had she not?” 

Aga and Hoseok shared a look before they pushed open the doors of the Princess’ chambers. Byulyi scrambled to her feet and bowed to both Aga and Hoseok.

“It seems to be some miscommunication, Byulyi.” Hoseok didn’t take his eyes off the maid as he spoke. “Word of the Princess’ illness had not reached us and yet the Prince is here with her?” Hoseok clicked his tongue and took a step towards the bed chambers.

Byulyi stepped in his way and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was giving strict orders from His Highness to not allow anyone to disturb his and the Princess’ slumber.” 

“Oh?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and took one step forward to crowd Byulyi’s space. “And will you take responsibility for my important notice being ignored for the sake of beauty sleep?”

Byulyi’s gaze wavered. What news did Hsoeok speak of? Could she risk it? It had only been a few hours, two at the most since the young royals left the palace. She wanted them to enjoy their freedom a little longer. Squaring her shoulders, Byulyi narrowed her eyes.

“I will.” 

Hoseok huffed, annoyed but impressed. He licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder to Aga who stood by and watched the whole encounter. He nodded his head with a sigh and turned his attention back to Byulyi.

“Forgive me, my dear.”

Before Byulyi could react to Hoseok’s words, he had dug his fingers into a pressure point and caught Byulyi’s limp body in his arms. Scooping her up, he carried her over to the couch and placed her down gently. Aga opened the door to the Princess’ sleeping chambers and the squawk that left his mouth made Hoseok cringe. Aga stepped out of the room and charged to the front of the room. He ripped open the doors and grabbed Chan by his shoulders. Chan hissed in pain as he was slammed into the stone wall.

“Where are they?!” Aga’s voice was an airy mix of whistles,  a song of death that only came from the lips of a citron crane.

Jooheon moved to pull Aga off of Chan when Hoseok held him back. The heat that seeped through his robes and singed his skin was uncomfortable. Flames danced in Hoseok’s amber eyes as he glared at Jooheon.

“Answer the question, kid. Where are the Prince and Princess?” 

The beat of the drums rang throughout the night. Armed guards filled the streets of the night market and stopped anyone who had their face covered. The Prince and Princess were missing from the palace. Any other time, Hoseok would have searched for the young couple without a fuss but with the news of the Emperor’s impending demise, he had no time for subtlety. Minho and San were easily recognized by the other guards and led back to the palace. They both thought to put up a fight but feared the young royal’s cover would be blown. 

In all the commotion, Prince Yoongi pulled the Princess away from the main street and ran between buildings, back towards the palace. The backways were dark and some smelled of waste and spoiled food but the Prince paid no mind to it once he heard additional footsteps echo around him. Someone, maybe three people from the missteps, were following them and Agust coiled himself tightly around Yoongi’s heart. Slowly a gold ring brightened around Yoongi’s iris and his hold on the Princess’ hand tightened. 

A body suddenly dropped from the rooftop followed by two more and Yoongi growled in warning. Footfalls from behind made his back stiffen and he shoved the Princess closer to the wall beside them. His satgat had fallen off his head and hung at his back thanks to the beaded gatkkeun that was attached to it. Prince Yoongi narrowed his eyes and bared his elongated fangs as the footsteps behind him came to a stop. They were surrounded and the Prince wondered where Minho and San were.

“Hand over the girl and we’ll let you live, boy.”

From the accent that the words were spoken in, the Prince knew that these bandits were not from town. As he took in their garb, he noticed that they were dressed in darker colors and wore black leather trousers but what stood out was the scabbard on their waist. The hilt was an ivy white while the sheath was black with golden metal plating. The craftsmanship reminded the Prince of a dagger that he once saw in a book about the West. He narrowed his eyes and positioned himself between the men, ten he counted, and the Princess.

“If you want to leave with your pathetic lives, leave now!”

The men all laughed and drew their swords and daggers all at once. Prince Yoongi cursed for not arming himself with any weapons for the night. Princess Keena pressed herself closer to the wall to shield her back and watched as the men all readied themselves to attack. 

One man lunged and the Prince sent him flying into the building across from them with a single kick to the man’s stomach. His skull hit the wall with a loud crack before he slumped to the ground. Another charged at the Prince and threw a punch that the Prince caught. He pulled the man in closer and sent his knee into the man’s chest three times before he shoved him away.

Prince Yoongi settled into a fighting stance and two men charged at once with their swords. He  shifted their attention to him as he moved out of the way so that the Princess wouldn’t be hurt. He blocked their attacks with his forearms before he kicked them away and smirked. Three out of the four men were groaning on the ground and slowly picked themselves up. A taller man, the leader, if they had to guess, narrowed his eyes and spit on the ground.

“Kill ‘im.”

⚠⚠⚠

Four of the men rushed in and the Prince was caught off guard for a moment. He thrusted his arm out to catch the wrist of the closet man, twisting the man's arm at an awkward angle for the sword to drop. The sickening crack of bone breaking made the Princess wince and cover her mouth as the food from earlier threatened to come back up. The man staggered back, holding his injured arm while the Prince fended off the other three men with the stolen sword. Another man snuck against the wall and kept to the darkness as he crept towards the Princess. 

The clinking of swords echoed in the night and Hoseok’s ears were ringing. The market was a mess with thugs and lowlifes attacking vendors for their goods. It was chaos and Hoseok was worried for his friends. He had not seen any trace of the Prince nor the Princess and something deep in his gut felt wrong. The sky above came to life, stars snuffed out by thick wafts of clouds. The air smelt of petrichor, dense and electric as thunder rolled about. 

A sudden squall of wind, chilling for the warmer night sent a shiver down Hoseok’s spin. A storm was coming and it wasn’t natural. Hoseok gathered the Princess’ guards, even though he felt like everything was their fault and motioned for them to follow him.

“Circle back to the palace! Split up and check the backways!”

The Prince was panting as he punched another man in his face. His fist hurt but he ignored the pain as someone came at him with two swords. Prince Yoongi grunted as he blocked the double blades and fought to keep his balance. The man before he was larger but the Prince remembered his training with Aga.

He let the man gain the upper hand by letting his arms give out before he kicked out his leg and swept the man’s feet out from underneath him. Using that same momentum, the Prince thrusted the blade forward right down into the man’s stomach and yanked it upward, like he had gutted a fish.

“Yoon-!”

The Princess’ voice caught Yoongi’s attention and he saw that she was now surrounded by three men. He hadn’t realized that the men he had fought had put such a distance between himself and the Princess. He took a step in the Princess’ direction and two more men attacked him. As he fought, one pulled a dragger from his hip and lunged. Yoongi was able to block the sword but the dagger was longer than normal and gave the other man the chance to get too close. The blade striked the Prince and his vision blurred, scarlet red. A sudden warmth with a stinging undertone, radiated along the right side of his face.

The Prince gripped his face with one hand. Blood seeped through his fingers and trickled down his wrist as he swung his sword blindly in the other, staggering backwards. He tripped over one of the fallen men and before he could catch himself one of the men grabbed his head from behind and smashed it into the closest wall. 

What little vision he had blurred even more and the Princess’ scream echoed in his ears. He struggled to stay upright and the man behind him slammed his head once more into the wall. Black spots entered the Prince’s vision and as he crumbled to the ground, he felt Agust’s claws as they sank deep into his heart.

Worry not, Princeling

Three men were left behind to check on the well-being of the others that were injured by Prince Yoongi. They paid no mind to the broken body that laid battered and bruised, bleeding out onto the dirt. If they had known who he was, they would have run long before they dared attack. Now? Now it was too late. Obsidian was flooded with pure gold, inky black iridescent scales covered more and more pale skin in larger patches and the pink tongue was now indigo and forked.

One man passed over the Prince’s body and spit at the ground in front of him. He noticed that the Prince was still breathing and glowered at the younger man. He squatted down before the Prince and pulled a dagger from his hip. He moved the satgat out of the way and grabbed the topknot that kept the Prince’s hair out of his face with a sneer.

“Enjoy living in disgrace,” the man sniggered and chopped the Prince’s topknot off without a second thought. 

The bun was clutched in the man’s fist and he laughed loudly, pleased with himself. However, the victorious joy was short-lived once he noticed the black scales on the Prince’s neck and face. With the satgat no longer blocking the Prince’s features, the man saw small black horns, almost like thorns that framed the Prince’s eyebrows and two thick black horns that weren’t there before. He swallowed thickly and dropped the topknot on the ground before he scrambled to his feet.

An iron-like vice gripped his ankle and he froze. Long, pointed nails seemingly dipped in tar pierced the skin and the man groaned in pain as he felt his muscle and bone rub together. The bone snapped and the man cried as he fell to the ground. The other men, now four in total, rushed over. They watched uncertain, swords raised in defense as the Prince picked himself up off the ground. His black hair hung around his ears unevenly and stuck to the bloody mud on his face. 

This was not the same man they had tried to kill. This, this was a monster.

Agust grinned at the men before him; his pointed teeth gleamed a wicked red from the flood that trickled into his mouth. He licked his lips and spit the bloody dirt on the ground. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers a few times, his pointed nails glossy and soaked in blood. 

He blinked once and he was in front of the men, nearly nose to nose. He growled as he grabbed one man by the throat and threw him through the wall of the building nearby. The other men dropped to their knees and begged for their lives. Agust squatted down in front of them, setting his elbow on his knee before he rested his chin in his palm.

“And why sssshould I ssspare your livessss?” His words were strung together with a hissed lisp that encased the men’s heart in pure dread.

“T-The girl!” One blurted out to save himself. “I-I know where they took the girl!”

Agust’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits and he lashed out without a word. The man’s whole body went rigid and he looked down slowly as he started to shake. Agust’s arm, up until his elbow was in the man’s chest. His heart beat dully in Agust’s bloodied hand that stuck out his back. 

The other two men watched in horror as Agust ripped his hand out and squished the man’s heart right before his very eyes before he died. He turned his gaze to the other men left and they begged for their lives. Agust enjoyed ripping them limb from limb. The only other survivor was the man who had the crushed ankle and Agust dragged him by the front of his shirt.

“Ssshow me where they took my treasssure!”

A downpour drowned out the muffled shouting that came from inside a storage room behind The Vine. The building was surrounded by lilac and clematis flowers with a cluster of yew trees that casted eerie shadows against the walls. 

Inside the tree men from the alleyway argued with each other about what to do with Princess Keena. They had tied her hands together at the wrists, behind her back and had her knelt on the cold hanji paper-covered floor. Water dripped from her hair and dripped onto the floor. A puddle had started to form where she knelt in silence.

They had not expected the man she was with to put up such a fight and cut their numbers down so quickly. The leader of the group was sure that the man was dead by now but he required a greater sum of money for the inconvenience of having to replace two of his men.

Money was heavy on his mind but as he looked at the Princess, unknowing of her true value, he licked his lips. The hanbok she wore was soaked through. The light beige color had darkened to a brown and clung to her body. The Princess kept her head down, her eyes closed as she willed Ceyeh to slowly come to the surface.

Princess Keena knew a bit more than the very basics of fighting. She could hold her own well enough against one person, but not three. Ceyeh had been a warrior in her time and knew how to protect the Princess at the cost of someone else’s life. It was a price she was willing to pay if need be. 

Behind closed eyes, silver curled and spread through the irises of the Princess. Ceyeh pushed the Princess’ conscious state of mind behind her. Warm brown and soft grey feathers wrapped around the Princess’ subconscious and held her tightly. 

“Not gonna scream for help, girl?” 

Ceyeh ignored the voice that spoke to her as she controlled her presence. No feathers sprouted from her skin and she focused on the shift of her nails. The nail bed turned a deep grey and the rounded tips grew into pointed talons. 

The leader of the group grabbed a fist full of Ceyeh’s hair and jerked her head up. The watery blue silver of her eyes caught him off guard and he grinned wickedly.

“A shifter? Never had a taste of one before.”

The man’s breath was rancid, teeth rotted and many missing. He gripped Ceyeh’s face in his hand harshly and turned her head every which way. He examined her and watched as goosebumps rose on the exposed skin of her shoulder.

“A nice consolation for the death of my men. It has been some time since I’ve last touched someone so-” 

As thunder roared overhead the trees outside hit against the building. Lightning lit up the sky and casted their shadows against the wall. Ceyeh glared up at the man and he looked over his shoulder at the other two men in the room.

“Did you hear that?” 

The men looked at each other confused.

“The thunder?” 

The man in front of Ceyeh spit on the ground and threw her body to the floor. He had heard something in the thunder.

“I think our men are back. Shall we give them a show?”

Ceyeh silently sliced through the rope that bound her hands as the man above her talked. If it was a show they wanted, it was a show they would get. Ceyeh caught the rope in her hands and dropped them on the ground before she made her move. The leader moved faster, he had her pushed onto her stomach and straddled her waist. He leant down and chuckled in her ear as he held her head down against the floor.

“Nice try girlie.”

He licked the side of her face, the warmth of his saliva cooled quickly as he pulled away with a pleased hum. 

“Hold her down!” He ordered his men and they moved quickly. Both men grabbed one of Ceyeh’s arms and pinned them down while the leader pulled his dagger from his hip and cut into the fabric of her hanbok. Ceyeh struggled as she tried to pull herself free but the men were surprisingly much stronger. It had been a long time since she last had to defend herself like this.

“Oh ho!” The man sneered as he looked at the markings on Ceyeh’s back. “What filth is this?” His rough fingers touched the raised marking on Ceyeh’s back and Ceyeh fought harder to get free. “Such a pretty face for a disfigured body.”

A hand pushed the skirts of her hanbok up and Ceyeh clenched her teeth. Feathers started to sprout along her ears and corners of her eyes. Her leg shifted as she dug her talons into the floor and readied herself for the pain she was about to inflict on herself. Brown feathers started to grow from her shoulders.

As they hardened, a crash filled the air as a body dressed in the men’s garb went soaring through the only door of the storage room. The body smacked into the wall, a single hole held the limp body in place by its smashed head. Blood dripped down the wall and splashed onto the floor in crimson pearls.

Through the petrichor, as Agust encroached on the storage house, he smelt the fermented and sour scent of the Princess. She was in danger and Agust growled as he heard a man’s voice over the rain. He dragged the man from the alleyway through the mud, not once caring that his broken ankle was jostled about. He broke the man’s jaw to keep him quiet and once the storage house was pointed out, Agust snapped his neck without a moment's hesitation.

⚠⚠⚠

As the scent of tangerines turned sharper and grew more bitter, Agust had enough. With no warning, he chucked the man in his hands through the doors of the storage room with such force that he became one with the wall. A grand improvement in Agust’s eyes, though before he could voice his musings he took in the sight before him. Princess Keena was pinned to the floor, her skirt was pulled up past her thighs and a man was straddling her from behind. As the man jumped to his feet, Agust caught sight of the off-colored markings on the Princess’ back and thick black smoke spilled from his mouth as fire burned in his chest.

Screams echoed in the night, suffocated by the howling winds and cherry-sized raindrops. Blood dripped from the ceiling and pooled onto the floor under torn limbs. Agust blinked once, twice, thrice before the sweltering heat in his chest settled into a dull flame. Golden eyes shimmered in the night, reflective as light flashed outside. His hair was plastered to his face, wet from the rain and blood that had started to clot. 

Agust cracked his knuckles and wiped his hands on his blood soaked trouser before he ran a semi-clean hand through his hair.  The choppy strands irritated the cut on his eye. The sound of shuffling caught his attention and he turned on his heels sharply with a growl in his throat. 

Silver and gold, two colors that had not existed in the same space in eons, meat silently. Agust’s body was frozen as glistening tears spilled from those all too familiar silver pools. A single drop of blood plopped down from the ceiling and splashed on the Ceyeh’s cheek. A small river of tinted red streamed down her face, yet she made no move to wipe it away. 

Agust stepped forward with a hand raised and Ceyeh’s arm shot out with a startled gasp as she took a quick step backwards. The distance wasn’t much, a handful of footsteps yet Agust felt that there were whole continents between them.

“My moon?”

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #daechwita!yoongi #dragon!yoongi #bts soulmate au #bts fantasy au #fic: blackthorn #soc yoongi #blackthorn ch 14

[bodhrancomedy]

The streaks of crimson in the river were slowly thickening as we fought our way upstream. The bubbles weren’t even bursting anymore, whatever gas was lurking beneath the surface clearly couldn’t release.

On one hand, I thought, that was a stroke of luck. It seemed unlikely that any of us excluding young Sim since I noticed she was staring at the water with that worrying curiosity I’d come to know – were going to be poisoned by breathing it in.

On the other, it might mean the river was going to explode. Stranger things have happened, and they often happened to us. To be fair, it was because we went looking for them.

“Helene!”

I snapped my head up at my name, just in time to see a shadow disappear into the willows on the opposite bank. My stomach clenched, adrenaline striking between my shoulder blades like a shrapnel shower, radiating across my body. It hadn’t been huge, but it was definitely bigger than any bird or creature that was supposed to be digging out an existence here.

I fingered my pistol, the modifications bulky to the touch. It didn’t make me feel much better. Squinting and cursing my vanity in not letting that new-fangled eye-doctor take a look at me, I focused on the trees, trying to spot anything moving.

So when Sim appeared next to me, I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Did’ya see it?” she was trying to whisper a shout. Sim had never done anything quietly.

Turning reluctantly, I shook my head. “Not properly. I just had a glimpse.”

“It weren’t an animal,” Sim said confidently. “Up on two legs an’ all.” She tugged at a haphazardly cut lock of black hair, scrunching her face up in thought. “Didn’t move like a person though.”

“What do you mean?”

“It moved… shaggily. Like shambling, but quicker.”

I blinked, trying to get a fix for what that meant in my head. As usual, Sim’s descriptions weren’t helpful to anyone but her. “Animalistic, you mean?”

She shrugged, looking down at her feet. “Didn’t want to say that, did I? Seems rude.”

That dragged a smile out of me. I reached up and patted her on the elbow. “Never change, Sim. Promise me.”

“So I can touch the water?”

“Absolutely not. Let’s go tell the others. And quickly.”

To my surprise, once we’d hurried (Sim far quicker than I) our way to the helm of The Otter, Jasper was piloting, thick blond eyebrows knitted together in intense concentration. The only acknowledgement we got from him was a flicker of his gaze, but Spices’ ears perked. Panting sparks, the tiny dragon bounded over and headbutted me in the shins. Sim only just caught me.

Gently but firmly moving the begging dragon aside, I asked, “Where’s Alby?”

My tone can’t have been as calm as I’d tried to pitch it because Jasper actually looked at me. He jerked his head towards the steps into the cramped interior. “He’s sortin’ his medicines.”

“But he already did that?” Keeping me awake most of the night too, but I didn’t say it out loud.

“He has a troubling presentiment,” Jasper’s voice dropped into a pitch-perfect imitation of Albie’s low, mixed-up accent. In his normal voice, he continued, “So he’s been frettin’ enough he gave me the wheel.”

“Obviously.” I took a deep breath, fingers curling into fists to stop my hands from shaking. “But there is someone –“

“- Or something!” Sim added, gleefully.

“– Watching and possibly following us from the bank. It might be why the river’s filling up with whatever this red liquid is –“ I held up my hand – “no, it’s not blood. I’m pretty sure of that. But whatever it is – whatever is causing it has to be strong. You’re one with the memory of a sage, Jasper, do you remember anything like that in your research?”

“I…”

“Any myths, any sightings, anything?”

“No.”

“Then we assume it’s new,” I went down the steps as quickly as I dared. Of all the adjustments Alby had made for me, they were still just a bit too high for my small frame. “And we assume it’s a threat.”

Sim was bouncing on the soles of her feet, eyes shining. “D’you reckon there’ll be a fight?”

I paused in the doorway. “I’m sixty-three. I’d rather there wasn’t.”

Then I went in to see if I could pull my oldest friend back from whatever brink he was standing on.

The living quarters were the usual mess of preparations (Jasper’s bunk was worse than mine, but not by much), but the frantic, clink-clink in the back made my heart sink to my feet. Carefully, noting the increasing rocking of the ship, I picked my way across the clothing-and-knickknacks-strewn floor and gently pulled aside the curtain.

It wasn’t good. Alby was hunched over his table, his vials and potions flashing in the last rays of the sun as he repositioned them with the swiftness of a card dealer. The quicker he moved them, the worse the storm in his mind.

It always reminded me of a chess player in the height of the game. Funny, I could always smash Alby at that. He wasn’t much of a cardsharp either.

I cleared my throat loudly, but the shuffling didn’t slow an iota. From behind, I could see the way his beloved moss-green shirt now shrouded his shoulders, excess material bunching under his braces, and that his white hair was flattened against his skull by repeated passes of his hand. He still had bruises too from our last assignment, yellow-green against his skin. I know us older folks take longer to heal up, but this was slow even for him.

I coughed again, wincing in anticipation, and said, “Are you winning?”

He started violently, entire body jackknifing in the chair. By some miracle, his flailing arms managed to miss every one of his precious medicines, but I heard - and felt - his knee slam into the table leg as he twisted.

“Godsdamnit!”

“Alby! It’s me!” I reached out and took his face in my hands, firmly forcing him to look at me. His beard was soft under my palms, his skin as weatherbeaten as my own. “Look, it’s just me, I’m sorry.”

He groaned softly and batted my hands away. “‘Lene, don’t -“ the sentence dissolved into a bout of coughing and he laid his head on the edge of the table.

I took a step closer and squeezed his shoulder. “You bastard,” I murmured, “you lied about feeling better.”

“I do -“ his voice was muffled - “but you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” He raised his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Besides, nobody looks the pinnacle of perfection and vitality when you petrify them near perdition.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself when I noticed the half smile hovering around the corner of his mouth.

I threw up my hands. “I’m looking up that sentence later, I don’t think those words mean what you think they do.”

But Alby smiled and that made the sun come out again.

#deaf #writing #writeblr #please tell me if the characters are likeable. #I like them v much #what a shame several have to die #fantasy

[sharry-arry-odd]

Tasslehoff began to consider that this adventure was in earnest, that it had a purpose for which people gave their lives. He wondered why he was involved and thought perhaps he had given the answer to Fizban–the small things he was meant to do were important, somehow, in the big scheme of things.

Dragons of Autumn Twilight, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

#page 441 #the dragons of autumn twilight #dragons of autumn twilight #dragonlance #dragonlance chronicles #margaret weis #tracy hickman #fantasy #quote #quotes #literature #book #booklr #reading #fizban #tasslehoff burrfoot #tas #the small things matter in the big picture #all big things are made up of tiny things #a huge dragon is made of tiny drops of blood #and the foreshadowing here makes me feel my heart right up in my throat #it really gets me #every time #ugh #tas is a hero #always

[delimeful]

failed bounties and fresh bonds

commission for @the-panmixxia! thank you so much for your support! :)

warnings: fear/panic, unintentional child endangerment, pretty bad injury, hypothetical gore/death mentions, remus being remus

-

Virgil pressed his palm over his mouth, struggling not to make any noise even as his lungs strained for air. There was someone in his forest, and he was sure they were here to kill him or worse.

He should have left before tonight, gotten as far away as possible, but... He’d lived here for longer than any of the other temporary homes he’d found. It was the safest place he’d found.

The trees in the forest were old and huge, enough that they sheltered him from view. The mountain was even more so, with old dragon caves that he could spend hours exploring. There was a little town to the south, but the forest was big enough that no travelers stumbled across the part where he lived.

He’d only snuck down to the town because he’d wanted to see the lights that had been strung up in the streets. He wasn’t sure what they were for, but they were bright and beautiful.

He hadn’t meant to get so close. He hadn’t meant to be caught.

But between one moment and the next, there had been a tiny gasp, and he’d turned his head to see one of the townsfolk, a young woman, staring up at him in frozen terror. The sight of the human had terrified him just as much, and he’d tipped back onto his butt, his hand knocking into a market stall with a crash of splintering wood.

The spell of silence broken, the woman screamed, the alarm spreading as windows began to light all down the street. Virgil had scrambled back like a crab, before turning and fleeing into the woods, leaving behind the distant noise of opening doors and raised voices.

It had all led to this. He’d been seen, and they’d set a bounty on his head, and now there was a strange human in his forest.

Virgil could hear the stranger humming, his tone nasal and low, occasionally straying painfully off key. He’d been using the sound as a guide, creeping away as quietly as he could whenever it came into range, but no matter how hard he tried to put distance between them, the wind would carry that hum back to him the moment he settled down to hide.

The stranger was a skilled tracker, maybe, or had extraordinarily good luck, or actually had seen Virgil that first time and had been following him from a distance ever since, tiring him out like a wolf stalking a deer. He didn’t sound like a knight, didn’t move with the crash of steel or ride a horse. Virgil hoped he wasn’t a knight, almost more than he wished he’d never gone down to that village at all.

He let himself breathe in, quiet and shaky, and then pushed away from the wall of his cave, listening for the stranger so he could try and sneak away once more.

Between the distant trees and night sky, there was silence.

Virgil leaned towards the cave’s opening, scanning the sharp silhouettes and straining for even the most muffled sound of twigs underfoot.

At the lip of the cave, a human-sized figure swung into view upside down, baring bone-white teeth in an unhinged grin. “Boo!”

Virgil couldn’t help the small scream that tore from him, the noise echoing against the cavern’s walls. His heart racing, he bolted back down those familiar tunnels without another thought, fleeing even as the human’s cackling cut off sharply.

“—Hey, wait, get back here! I didn’t spend all night wandering in the cold-ass woods just to have a monster blueball me out of a fight again!”

Shouted into a deep cave, the stranger’s words bounced and overlapped until they were just meaningless noise around Virgil, only propelling him forward faster. He took the corners sharply, scrambling up near sheer cliffs, barely noticing the way sharp protruding rocks scraped against his shoulders or pierced the soft bits of his feet.

He didn’t realize he was cornering himself until he turned into a dead end, the paths somehow warped and unfamiliar under the force of his panic. Quick, skipping steps were pursuing him in the distance, which meant that the human could still hear his footsteps, and so he shuffled into the furthest corner of the cavern and focused on making himself still and quiet, no matter how hard his body wanted to tremble and shake and sob.

There was no doubt about it; the stranger was a bounty hunter, and Virgil was the bounty.

That nasally voice continued to echo down to Virgil as he rambled on, complaining or singing or making jokes Virgil didn’t get, all while steadily pursuing his quarry.

Bit by bit, the noise drew closer and closer, accompanied by the crackle of a merrily burning torch. He seemed to be utterly undeterred by the twisting, unsettling nature of the mountain, and what little hope Virgil had began to fade. There was no way that the stranger would just happen to pass him by.

It would take a miracle to save him now.

A cavern away, a chunk of old stone gave way under an overconfident foot.

—-

“Oh, fuck—,” Remus shouted, his brain nearly shorting out as he tripped directly into freefall.

His divination provided him with a slurry of unhelpful images, each one matching a tiny movement he made while falling: him landing on his legs and shattering both of them so hard he blacks out, him landing on his head and doing a lot worse than blacking out, ragdolling all the way down the crevice below, twisting so that his foot catches on a crack in the wall and wrenches his ankle— That one!

He howled as his foot caught, and then the bitch that was gravity caught up with him and his back and skull slammed against the wall, knocking the air out of him and causing little white flashes to appear in his vision.

It took a long moment to come back to himself through the pain, but when he did, he found himself still dangling in place by a single ankle. He’d lost his torch somewhere in the process.

He glanced down, and knew immediately that the shadowy drop below was fatal, the cracks of potential future bone breaking settling into his brain.

Glancing up, he knew immediately that his ankle was boned, going by the interesting angle it was making with the rest of his leg.

He contemplated reaching up with his other foot and trying to wedge it in another crack. His brain offered him visions of the whole bit of cliff face snapping into brittle pieces, and then more falling to his death.

He crossed his arms, letting all the blood rush to his head in hopes of that generating a better idea. Instead, he got a headache.

“Well, shit,” he said, succinctly.

Something big shifted, just barely in earshot. Remus didn’t bother looking ahead; it was obvious that the giant he’d been hunting had just figured out how thoroughly the roles had been reversed.

Sure enough, the movements shuffled closer, surprisingly hesitant, and then two huge, glowing eyes peered down at him.

“Come to grind my bones into paste?” Remus asked, genuinely curious. “Or squish all my organs out through my ears?”

Those eyes scrunched up a bit in revulsion, which was hilarious coming from a monster about to kill him. He wiggled his limbs around a bit, ignoring the resulting pain and cracking of brittle rock in favor of hopefully enticing the creature to grab him already. Just hanging around was getting boring.

The breathing above him quickened a bit, and then there was a curved, warm surface under him, lifting slowly until his ankle was no longer carrying all of his weight. Remus considered yanking the injured foot free before the monster could do it for him, but before he could follow through, there was the silhouette of large fingers poking and prying at the rock until it really did crumble away.

The cupped thing he was splayed across had to be a hand too, he realized as he breathed through the sharp jabs of pain from his ankle being released. From the way the townspeople described it, he’d expected something less… human-shaped.

Between his ankle and his head rush, it was no surprise that he blacked out a little.

When he managed to wake back up, they’d returned to a tunnel that led outside, going by the fresh air he could feel against his face. It must have taken the creature a lot more time to make the trip while carrying him.

Whatever it wanted him for, he wasn’t sticking around to find out. He cast around for potential futures-- he rolls out of the grip and smacks his head on stone, he lands on his bad ankle and instantly blacks out again, he waits a little longer and is set on the ground outside by--

“You’re a kid?” he blurted, his vision of a distinctly human, distinctly child-shaped face fading away. The hand under him jolted, and the kid made a startled sniffle.

“You’re alive?” he asked in return, his voice deep and big but also rough with… tears? Jeez, had the kid really been that upset about some asshole bounty hunter biting the dust?

The hand curled in a little tighter around him, one fingertip coming to settle on his chest as though to check that he really was breathing. The motion was gentler than he thought possible for a giant, and he realized fairly abruptly that the ‘terrorized’ people in the town below were full of shit.

He’d hunted this kid for a whole night, and all he’d done in return was avoid him and then save his life. Some ‘monster’.

The kid seemed to remember himself, and flattened his hand back out before shuffling forwards more. There was a subtle shaking running through him, and Remus had the feeling that the kid was going to bolt the minute he set him down.

“Anyone else live up here with you?” he asked, flopping back onto the hand casually. He felt that giant gaze drop onto him and continued casually. “I came up here for a bounty but it turned out the townsfolk are dirty liars. I haven’t seen a single monster.”

There was a little surprised inhale from above him.

“In fact, this place is so nice I might camp here for a while,” he added, waving a hand at the forest ahead lazily. “Make sure to send off any other bounty hunters so they don’t waste their time up here.”

“R-Really?” the kid asked, his tone full of doubt and suspicion.

“Yup! I’ve been told I’m an absolutely detestable neighbor, disturber of the peace, totally unrecommended, zero out of ten,” Remus paused. “But I’m great at getting rid of uninvited guests!”

The kid took that last step out of the tunnel, the early light of dawn spilling over both of them. Remus sat up, waving his fingers in greeting as they both took each other in as more than silhouettes.

Apart from the fact that he was giant, the kid looked like... a kid. An long-limbed, underfed, lonely kid. One with distinct cuff-shaped scars around his wrists and ankles.

Remus shoved down his anger, tore his gaze away from the old wounds, and offered the kid a sharp-toothed grin. The kid tilted his head, wary. That was okay. Remus could handle wary.

“So, what do you say?”

“... Neighbors,” he replied, hesitant and hopeful. Remus cheered obnoxiously.

He was going to have fun making those people regret ever putting a bounty on this kid.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #commissioned works #platonic dukexiety #g/t #my writing #ts virgil #ts remus #writing #fbafb #failed bounties and fresh bonds #alternate universe

[ryosmne]

Safe Place.

Yakuza! Nanami Kento x gn Reader

Hello everyone, this fic is in collaboration with my dear friend @sunfloweroranges you can read their fic here :D

I kind of changed my writing style for this one, I'm trying out different things so let me know how it goes, feedback is always welcome, that's all from me hope you have a good time reading 💜

Summary: You're clueless

Warnings: mentions of blood, mature themes, mentions of murder and head chopping, language, yandare Nanami if you squint.

Grocery shopping is never fun when you're alone, especially making your way back home in the cold winter months, it gets dark so early.

A slight twist of your gut had made you walk back home in a faster pace. Turning your head every couple of steps, you never saw anything, yet this feeling never left even when you got through the main entrance of your apartment complex.

The elevator was broken once more, and you were already out of breath from rushing back, as you took the first steps up, your next door neighbor, who looked way too scary for your own liking bumped your shoulder on his way down.

Jeez he's in a hurry today.

Mumbling a quick apology, even though he was the one that was at fault, you quickly found the strength to run up the stairs and lock yourself in. Some short of commotion was coming from outside the complex that you didn't really care to hear.

That pink haired guy, your neighbor, who was build like a damn door, always got himself in some short of trouble, hearing him yell profanities or even throwing punches was a far too often occurance.

Why did he have to live right next door?

It's safe to say you did the best to keep the hell away from him, not that he seemed to bother with you, neitherless he was fucking scary.

Kento was ten minutes late, he was never late, except for the days that he had to clean up someone's mess, the days someone underestimated the power he held or the days someone dared speak your name. He wouldn't even tell them 'dont you dare speak their name' or anything along those lines. There was no warning when it came to mentioning yo,u only taking immediate action.

Naturally you were in the dark about all of that, Kento -or Ken as you would often referred to him as- kept you far far away from the darkness of his world. That was his way of keeping you safe and at the same time having you as his personal way out of his work and in his defence he didn't completely lie about his employment. He was an investor, just a bit of a different stock market than what you had in mind.

As far as you knew, Nanami Kento was an extremely successful business man, he chalked up his tattoo covered body as just his preferred style, since he is this good at what he does, he likes to say that his work place doesn't give a damn about his ink covered skin and the expensive gifts that he always pressures you to accept are just another benefit of his high profile job.

"Darling, I hope you didn't start without me." Wrapping your arms around your extremely sweet boyfriend you left a small kiss on his lips watching as the corners tagged upwards in an equally sweet smile the moment your lips left his.

"Of course not Ken, it's Friday remember?" Fridays are the established date nights in, you and Kento cook and dine together. More often than not you end up slow dancing to some jazz, or with you laying on his chest Infront of the fireplace, listening to his heartbeat, talking about life while he strokes your hair until the dawn.

Tossing him an apron, after he -like the gentleman he is- tied yours, you got to work on today's dish: Chorizo carbonara.

"You're never late on Fridays, bad day at work?"

You spoke while slicing some papers.

"Yeah, the stocks are all over the place and it's getting me stressed, but it's our night darling, anything else isn't of importance."

Kento always found a way of distracting you when it came to talking about his day, he is always quite vague and when his palm rested on the small of your back gazing down at you with those adoring eyes, it's hard to keep focused on anything other than him.

"Why don't you tell me about your day love?"

He always asked you that, Kento is in awful need of the calm that the mundane life you live carries. He craves to feel that, he still loves the power he holds over people, the way the mare mention of his name makes others tremble in fear of what the man will do to them shall they not comply to his requests -more accurately orders-

"Thankfully work was pretty good today, I finished grocery shopping so we could cook, I got us that wine you really loved too. The neighbor is being weird again but that's not new, maybe moving out isn't a bad idea."

Everything was like music to Kento's ears untill that last sentence. You had mentioned moving out before, but Kento always found a way to convince you not to. The rent was good, this house is close to your work, he would always reason with you until you changed your mind. He never pushed too hard fearing that you'd suspect something, but you only smiled and ended up agreeing with him.

You see, unbeknownst to you, your weird neighbor is Nanami's most trusted man, he's protecting you twenty four hours a day, even as you walked up the stairs today he dealt with another threat that was headed right your way. No, you cannot move before you know everything, but Nanami can't bring himself to break your bubble, he loves you and you love him, the real him, he would never scare you by letting you take a peek at his point of view. Maybe he should run away with you afterall.

"He doesn't look that bad, love. I'm sure he wouldn't hurt a fly."

Nanami knew he was capable of a lot more than that but it was true, your neighbor was an ally and although he would hurt lots of people, you were on the list of people to be protected and Sukuna took his bosses orders very seriously.

"Besides, my love, anyone would have to get through me first before attempting to lay a finger on you."

With the way his lips moulded on yours and his velvety tone, how could you not believe every single word that just came out of his mouth. Kento would die before letting anything happen to you, that little statement helped bring you comfort.

"You must really love my house Ken, can you pass me the butter?"

The moment your back was turned, Kento let out a breath of relief. That little voice in his head he always pushed away yelled at him to tell you everything, he burried it in the back of his mind once more.

"Can you believe that? I swear she drives me insane- Ken are you listening to me?"

That was weird, Kento always gave you his full attention. Perhaps he was tired today.

"Yes darling, you were talking about that Satoru guy, the one who annoys you at work."

Yeah you were, but that was while you were still eating, about twenty minutes ago.

"Babe, you're tired, let's go to bed, we can pick up where we left off another time, you need to rest."

The habit of staying up all night on Fridays had really stuck, but sleeping when your partner clearly needed to, is very much on schedule although it rarely ever happened.

Getting up from the sofa, tagging at Kento's arm to follow you to the bedroom had Kento irritated at how concerned you grew for him. He still feels you're too good at times, all the time to be exact.

You only heard him sigh before he pulled you back on the sofa, having lost your balance in his sudden move, you landed on top of him.

"Stay with me a little longer my love, I'm sorry I spaced out, I'm all ears for you now."

Another invitation for you to just talk to him, he didn't care about what. Kento loved the tone of your voice, how it changed pitch depending on what emotion you held or what you were talking about. His voice was quite monotone, like everyone else's around him. He had to grow thick skin and throw away all short of feelings, but everything he locked away years ago came rushing back the moment he spilled coffee on you six months ago. You hadn't even complained about the burning sensation on your skin as he helped clean you up, you just gave Kento a smile telling him that everything was fine and these things happen.

In his world they don't, someone can breathe the wrong way and lose their head, all it took was your damn smile and that statement to get him to need something different than what he had. Kento never thought he missed a thing, he found out how wrong he was that very day.

Sometimes he wished he never took the time to help you out back then, but that was only because he didn't know that he'd put you through all this.

"So I'm just sat there in a staring contest over the last price of cake, I won but my eyes still feel a bit dry."

You laughed, Kento stared down at you with a fond smile, your head on his lap and your hands tangled in his, brushing his knuckles and examining every bit of his skin with such care, God you were beautiful all over.

While Kento's hands were very interesting a small detail in the cuff of his shirt got your stomach to drop.

"Ken, is that blood?"

He swore he cleaned up, he always cleaned up before coming back to you, he never missed a single splatter. Maybe rushing home after not one, but two people tried to harm you today put him on edge.

He had missed a single drop. He was absolutely disgusted that even that tiny part of someone who dared to say the name y/n out loud infront of him and even threatened your existence was anywhere near you.

"Sweetheart that's probably tomato sauce from cooking, thanks for pointing it out, you know I hate staining my clothes, I'll go change."

Your meal didn't contain tomato sauce.

Why was your gut telling you that something was off?

Kento seemed a bit tense tonight, was it just a bad day at work?

He never really conversed on his profession. The huge dragon that started from the back of his thigh, ended on his left shoulder covering his entire back was just his 'style'. You swore you heard him talk to the pink haired man who lived next door but he told you he was on the phone. Everything little bit of suspicious behaviour you had previously payed no mind to, came to you. On top of that what was his reason to lie about a drop of blood on his sleeve? He could've said it was a paper cut or something, Why did he lie?

Behind the bathroom door Kento only cursed at him self.

Why didn't he lie better?

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #yakuza nanami #au nanami kento #jjk drabbles #jjk anime #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen oneshot

[gotnofucks]

Compromise

Paring: dark!August Walker x Reader

Summary: Your surrender to him would ensure the safety of the world.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, violence, blackmail and manipulation, 18+ ONLY

MASTERLIST

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The doorman helped you out of the car, your hand firmly clasped in his gloved one as you steadied your feet in your high heels. The cold made gooseflesh rise on your arms and back, the little hair standing up in the breeze. You clutch your coat closer, following your escort inside the hotel and exhaling deep in the elevator. You were nervous, not something unfamiliar. But you were also scared, something that could prove fatal in your line of work.

As the elevator dinged, announcing the top floor that opened in front of you, you almost didn’t step out. The whole thing felt off, the bodice of your dress hugging you tight and making it difficult to breath. And yet when your escort waved you forward, you followed behind him, the floor length skirt of your dress softly swishing on the marble floors and your heels tick-tocking against them.

The man led you past a number of unmarked doors before stopping before an ornately carved doorway, intricate vines twisting on its surface to form a beautiful design. The man gave three sharp knocks and pushed the door open, bowing a little as you entered but not following. The clicking shut of the door made you flinch, and you looked around at the room in awe.

It was a beautiful room, large with the opposite wall made completely of glass, the night sky twinkling at you as the distant city lights burned small like tiny candle flames. There was a round table in the center of the room, draped in silver and black silk tablecloth and set with two chairs. Against the right wall sat a large four poster bed similarly laid in black sheets and sheer white curtains tied to the posts.

You swallowed uneasily, walking inside with as little noise as possible. The invitation, glittery silver ink on black polished paper burning a hole inside your handbag. It was worded so wisely, disguised as a dinner invitation, and yet bearing the marks of someone who could destroy your life. The code was easy to break, and as you read between the polite lines of invitation and gazed at the secret code for your covert mission, your hands trembled. You don’t tremble much. You learnt not to when you joined this task force as an agent.

And yet, the knowledge that someone knew about you and your mission made your fingers curl up for warmth inside your palm. The future of millions was depending on this mission, and this mission depended on you. If you failed, the world would fall, and you will live the rest of your life bearing the blood of endless lives on your soul.

When he stepped out from the shadows that concealed the door behind them, you gasped. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were. The blue green eyes you had looked at everyday for the past few months gazed back at you, amused, analyzing.

“Hello Agent, a fine evening isn’t it?”

August had always been polite, always sincere. He was the one person you thought was innocent in this whole operation. He was just a CIA operative; he was an agent who got recruited into something they didn’t know the truth about. Yet, he stood before you with a smile gracing his lips beneath that bushy mustache and the dimple on his chin barely visible under his beard. He was donning a sharp black suit matching with the room esthetics, and he cocked his head at you, pulling out a chair as an offer.

“You look lovely, let me take that coat.”

You let him remove your coat, rubbing your arms as you silently took the seat he offered. In this large room, with the dark décor, his huge beefy body made him appear sinister, like a dragon who was overlooking his hoard.

“I didn’t expect you.” You commented, taking a sip of the water in front of you. Just like that, your fear was gone. The nerves before the mission vanished as you came back into your element. The field was your battleground, and you knew you owned it. August smiled, sitting across from you.

“Oh, I know, and that was your mistake. Or maybe it was my success. I am not completely innocent but –”

“– you don’t exactly scream a genocidal maniac either.” You completed for him. He was good.

August Walker walked the fine line when it came to being an agent. While he was courteous and polite, he was also easy to anger. You’d seen him in action, fighting off men twice his bulk with barely an effort, the faintest tinge of amusement in his eyes as he watched them bleed. Espionage was a rough life, and many agents went in over their head to deal with the bloodshed and cruelty they witnessed. You didn’t think he was naïve, but you also didn’t think him evil.

“Where did I go wrong?” You asked him, genuinely curious. You were so meticulous with everything; each move you made was calculated. You had to be brilliant to be handed a mission as important as this.

August splayed his hands on the table that was curiously empty of any food, only two glasses of water and two empty wine glasses with a bottle of wine sitting in the center.

“Nowhere truly. You were so fascinating to look at though. In fact, I think that had I not been looking so closely at you, I would have missed the little signs.” His voice was smooth and soft, level. Eyes never leaving yours, but then again, they barely left you before. You knew he was watching you, but you had thought it was natural for someone to keep an eye on the new addition of the team.

“Little signs?”

“The first time I noticed something was when you tapped that tattoo near the crook of your elbow. You did that often, I though it was a nervous tick. I thought it was cute.” He continued, and both your eyes strayed to the small Celtic shield tattoo that was inked over the scarred skin hiding the small chip under your skin. Your eyes met his and he smirked.

He had known all those times you touched it to send out messages in morse code, to send out locations. He had known, but never let on.

“What else?” You wanted to know, if only to stall the rising trepidation in your belly. Did you compromise everyone in your team?

“Your eyes.” He said, almost breathlessly and for a moment it became difficult to maintain the eye contact. “Your eyes were such a lovely shade when I first saw you, sparkling. I love how expressive they are, how they seem to glitter. But when you wore the smart lenses, they seemed different. Maybe not to others, but to me. I knew exactly where you have flecks in your eyes, the lenses shielded them.”

You found yourself gulping as you heard him spoke, the passion in his voice thrilling you as much as it terrified you. His gaze on you had never been just analytical. It was fanciful. It was observant. He didn’t look at you like an agent, he looked at you with the hunger of a wolf.

“What do you want August?” You finally asked him, unsure what he wanted from you.

“First, I want you to take off those earrings and crush them.” He said, sitting back on his chair and raising a brow. You stiffly followed his command, pulling off your earrings and crushing the pearl on top of it with the edge of the glass, including the G.P.S tracker inside. August seemed pleased and he nodded, coming forward to take the bottle of wine and pouring you a generous amount.

“I don’t want to remove the chip as long as you promise not to touch it. The blood, it would ruin the mood wouldn’t it?” He asked while cocking his head, taking his wine glass, and clinking it with yours.

“You did not call me here do drink wine and just talk. What do you want?” You snap at him, irrigation bubbling in your gut. The twitching mustache whenever he smirked, that irked you.

He crossed his hand over his chest, licking his lips as his eyes dropped from your fiery eyes to your pursed lips, and from there to your cleavage.

“I want you to give up your mission” He said. The unsaid ‘and’ in there made you arch your brow in question. “And I want you to surrender to me.”

You leaned your elbows on the table, scrunching your nose as you said with as much venom as you could muster, “No. And no. I’d rather die than let you destroy innocent lives for your misguided idea of peace.”

The flash of teeth told you he expected that answer. Taking a sip of his wine he rolled that gulp in his mouth before swallowing, your eyes following the movement of this Adam’s apple.

“Well then, we negotiate.” He offers and pointedly looks at your wine glass. You touch it lightly with his and gulp in a mouthful, trying to keep your nerves steady. This was still your battlefield; you could still win.

“You want to negotiate a terrorist attack?” You asked him with the smallest of smile, and he returned you a bigger one.

“Call it a proposition. I’ll stand back on the attack as long as you agree to surrender to me”.

You blinked, confused, and caught off guard. You drowned your wine, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“And by surrender you mean?”

You knew what he meant. He had admitted to you that he was watching you. He spoke to you like he knew you. His eyes raked over your figure in a way that seemed to go deeper than the skin. You watch him stand up and come over to your side, sitting on the table edge in front of you.

“You know what I mean. I want your complete surrender. You have five minutes to decide.” The amused tilt to his voice raised your hackles and you nervously looked over your shoulder.

“Five minutes?” You asked and he chuckled.

“You had to have known that your wine had poison in it.”

You stood up from your chair so fast it toppled. You glanced at your empty wine glass and then to August. Was he lying? But even as you toyed with that thought you could feel sweat building above your lip and hairline, breathing getting just a tad bit harder. Your eyes widened and you stuck a finger down your throat, trying to vomit.

“Won’t help, its already in your blood. You just need to decide if you’d rather be mine or rather be dead.” August said, just sitting and watching your frantic movements. You panted, eyes closing as you fought to think clearly. It was not a difficult decision to make. You opened your eyes, glaring at him as he played with a small vial of what you were sure was the antidote.

“Well sweetness, what will it be? Me, or the cold arms of death?” He asked.

You walked up to him, taking hold of his lapels to pull him closer and slapped him hard.

“You bastard.” You spat. “Give me the antidote.”

You reached for the small glass bottle, but August pushed you away with a firm hand on your shoulder. He looked mischievous, your suffering a source of amusement for him.

“Not so fast.” He tutted. “You need to surrender sweetness, and the first thing to go will be that pride.”

With that, he unbuckled his belt and quickly undid the button on his pants, eyes on you the whole time. You watched in bafflement as he lowered his boxers to bring out his semi-erect cock from within, a closed fist stroking it slowly.

“On your knees.” He commanded, and with a flick of his finger snapped open the bottle and poured some antidote on his now hard cock. “You don’t have much time. You want to live? Get down on your knees and suck.”

The burning in your lungs increased both with the poison and humiliation as you sank down to your knees, the will to live making you waste little time to come forward and put your mouth around him. Your tongue laved at him, catching the bitter essence of the antidote, and eagerly looking for more. He let you do it your way for a while before fisting your hair and jerking you hard, forcing his tool deep inside your mouth.

You moaned as he stretched your lips around himself, the girth of him too wide for comfort. You tried to breath through your nose, tongue moving around for the left-over antidote sticking on his skin.

“Suck sweetness, suck like you mean it. Your world depends on how good you put that mouth to use.” He said groaning, thrusting in your mouth with vigor. You did as he commanded, hollowing your cheeks, and sucking gently, swirling your tongue as you bobbed your head. You pulled away, gasping, and then poking at his slit with your tongue, tasting his musky precum.

August pulled you up by your neck, pushing and moving behind until you fell and landed on the soft mattress of the bed. He climbed over you, pants discarded and shirt unbuttoned, a maniac gleam in his lust blown eyes.

“Please, the antidote.” You begged. You hated pleading but you love breathing more. As you reached out a hand, August took it in his and kissed your fingers before kissing the inside of your wrist. You shivered, his gentle caresses making you respond despite your revulsion.

He brough the antidote to his own mouth, taking in a mouthful and then lowered his mouth to yours. You parted your lips, allowing him to transfer the life saving liquid into your mouth and you swallowed. His tongue invaded your mouth, swirling inside and your hands grabbed his shoulder and hair, pulling him closer. The possibility of dying had you clinging to the only source in this room that made you feel alive in this moment.

“I hate you!” You mumbled against his lips, pulling on his mustache with your teeth and he chuckled. His hands lowered the straps of your dress, lips following to suck a mark into your skin.

“You can hate me, but you cannot leave me. Your precious world stays intact, as long as you do what I say.”

You let him take control, moans spilling from your mouth unbidden at the pleasure he wrecked on your mind and body. You slyly moved your hand down, letting it drag down your side along the slit in your dress to grasp your thigh holster. August’s hand reached the knife strapped to your thigh just as yours did, his lips smiling against your skin as he grabbed it.

“Oh sweetness, you wring my heart with your strength.” He locked his gaze on yours, using your own knife to cut your dress in the middle and bare you to his eyes. The small scars that you received over the years in your service littered your body, and you groaned when he traced them softly.

As his bare body folded over yours, you let your thoughts fly away. You surrendered to his whims and your basic nature, nails digging in his back as he held you close and entered you slowly. You moved in tandem, meeting every one of hit thrusts with a raise of your hips, lips molded over his and curses flowing between both of you.

The ridges of his cock scratched your walls and made you whimper, the sheer size of him taking away your breath. You felt so full, full of August. In that moment, he occupied your body and your thoughts. Your hands roamed his sweaty body, heels digging in his strong back as he powered into you. The delicious burn of his beard left red scratches around your nipples and neck, his hands holding you tight enough to burn their shape in your body.

You convulsed around him, his finger mashing your clit making you soar over the cliff and fall into a valley of pleasure, lightning bolts racing across your back. He was still thrusting, forcing you to look at him as he emptied inside you. As he rolled over and you caught your breath, he tossed you the remaining antidote which you gulped swiftly.

You watched him pant, his hairy chest glistening with sweat. The raw power of his body, the pleasure he just delivered both embarrassed and excited you. You knew you must surrender, must compromise yourself if that was what would take for the world to survive.

“You may own my body, even my mind at times. But don’t think I’ll ever surrender my heart.” You told him and he laughed, reaching over to hold your arm in his, pressing a soft kiss first to both your cheeks and then lips.

“You know I can’t resist a challenge sweetness.” He said. You watched in fascinated horror as his fingers hovered over your tattoo, looking at you with glittering eyes. He tapped out a short message that made your heart stutter and then your knife was pressed into your skin, digging deep to pull out the chip as your screamed.

She’s Mine

His bloody fingers cupped your face, pulling you closer to nuzzle you in his warmth.

“Just surrender to me, and the world will wake up to see another day.”

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Tags: @what-is-your-wish​ @shooting-star-love​ @stanmysoul​ @sweeterthanthis​ @scentedsongrebel​ @muralskins​ @rayofdawnworld @agniavateira​ 

#august walker x reader #dark!august walker x reader #august x reader #henry cavill x reader #dark!henry cavill x reader #august walker #henry cavill

[little-ligi]

Febuwhump - No. 8

No. 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep.” Fandom - BBC Merlin Wordcount - 1625 @febuwhump​

“Unbelievable,” Arthur said irritably, as Merlin trudged along behind him, still prattling about absolutely nothing of note at all.

“What is?” Merlin asked, kicking idly at a stone.

“Your ability to get infinitely more annoying every single day.” Arthur slashed his sword at a vine trailing from a tree.

“And how exactly am I being annoying?” Merlin questioned, getting far too close behind him so Arthur could practically feel his breath on his neck as he spoke. “I’m just talking to you, trying to engage you in an interesting conversation.”

“Well, it’s not interesting, for a start.”

“Alright, what do you want to talk about?” Merlin asked, bouncing forward so he was at Arthur’s side, grinning over at him.

Continue reading on Ao3, FF.net or below! 👇

“Ugh, do we have to talk about anything? Can’t we just enjoy the nice, quietness of the woods?”

Merlin looked around at the trees, then shrugged. “I suppose so…”

Arthur sighed as Merlin finally lapsed into silence. He let his eyes slide shut for a few seconds, taking in the rustle of wind through leaves and simple birdsong, the crack of a breaking twig.

They’d barely made it a few yards forward before Merlin exclaimed and pointed up into the canopy of a nearby tree.

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Arthur complained through gritted teeth.

“That dragonfly! It’s beautiful!”

“I don’t like dragonflies,” Arthur said sullenly.

“What?” Merlin screwed up his face. “Dragonflies are amazing.”

“They don’t look anything like dragons.”

“Oh and you’re an expert on dragons now, are you?” Merlin said with a bright laugh.

“No, I just –” Arthur gave Merlin a hard shove, sending him toppling off the path and only just managing to stagger upright against a tree. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“Oh very nice, thank you, your royal pratness.” Merlin dusted himself off, making more noise flapping his jacket than he had while talking.

“Stop it. Just be quiet for once,” Arthur shouted.

Merlin pressed his lips firmly together, scowling. Arthur ignored him and took a deep breath in through his nose.

They continued on in silence. It was nice.

It was because of Merlin’s silence that Arthur heard the odd noise off to the side of the path. He held a hand up to stop Merlin, but the idiot had never bothered to learn hand signals – or he was deliberately choosing to ignore Arthur because he was annoyed with him – so he continued stomping down the path.

And walked straight into the ambush. Three huge heavyset bandits leapt from the tree line, weapons drawn. Before Merlin even had time to notice what was happening, he was slammed over the side of the head with a club. He dropped like a stone and Arthur’s yell accompanied the thud of Merlin’s limp body hitting the floor.

With a battle cry, Arthur charged forwards, his sword flashing as he swung it around to cut down the first man. A lunge and a deep stab took care of the second.

The third seemed to have a little more fighting skill than his companions and he met Arthur’s sword with the handle of his axe, using his larger weight to force Arthur away. He dodged Arthur’s next swing, coming back with a fierce counter swing of his axe, which would have hewn Arthur in two if he hadn’t leapt out of the way. He twisted to the side, feinting one way then dancing back to the other side, jamming his sword against the big man’s back.

The man let out a ragged cry as he fell and Arthur wasted no time in dispatching him and hurrying to Merlin.

He let his sword fall to the floor as he dropped to his knees next to his manservant. Ever so gently he rolled Merlin over, his heart in his throat as he tried to tell if Merlin was still breathing. He gasped a sigh of relief as Merlin moaned and his fingers flexed against the soft soil on the ground.

Arthur let his hands cradle Merlin’s head, carefully turning it so he could see where the club had hit him. Blood was pouring from the wound just above Merlin’s right ear.

His eyes were partially open but they wouldn’t focus on Arthur as he leant over him, and they rolled back into his head as Arthur lifted his head up onto his lap.

“Merlin, come on, look at me… please,” he said shakily. He pulled Merlin’s neckerchief off and wound it around his head, as carefully as possibly. Merlin mumbled incoherently but didn’t open his eyes. His words got more slurred until he stopped speaking all together and Arthur panicked.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep, Merlin,” he called desperately, patting Merlin’s ashen face.

Merlin moaned again, his eyes fluttering a tiny bit before closing again. Arthur gave him a little shake, his arm snaking under Merlin’s shoulders to lift him a bit more upright.

“Wake up. Merlin, you need to wake up!”

Gaius had always told him that people shouldn’t be allowed to sleep after a head wound. He couldn’t remember why, but Gaius’s worried frown was stuck in his mind’s eye as he tried to rouse Merlin. He blew in his face, a short sharp gust of air that made Merlin’s eyelids flicker.

“Yes, that’s it. Open your eyes!” he cajoled. Merlin’s hand grasped for his arm and he grabbed it, squeezing tightly. But his eyes didn’t open and Merlin went still again, his fingers losing their grip on Arthur’s arm.

“No, no, no! Merlin! Come on, rise and shine!” Arthur was aware his voice was getting shrill, his hands, trying not to be too rough as he shook Merlin’s shoulders again. “Up and at ‘em!”

Still no response from his manservant. He pulled Merlin more onto his lap, his shaking hands cradling his bleeding head. He wiped a bit of blood from Merlin’s cheek with the end of his sleeve, tapping his cheekbone with two fingers.

Nothing, Merlin still lay limp and unresponsive in his arms.

“Get up you lazy daisy!” he pleaded, tears spilling from his eyes as he said Merlin’s stupid phrase. Merlin’s eyelids fluttered again. Arthur’s heart soared. “That’s it, yes, that’s it, Merlin, open your eyes!”

A slither of blue appeared below his eyelids. Arthur blinked his own eyes furiously to clear the tears.

“’thur…” Merlin whimpered.

“Yes,” he breathed, relief swelling his chest as Merlin blinked and his eyes opened a little further, taking in his surroundings a bit. His hand gripped Arthur’s arm again and his lips moved soundlessly then he flinched.

“Ow, head hurts,” he moaned, the hand that wasn’t on Arthur’s arm reaching up to his head.

Arthur caught his wrist before his fingers could touch the bandage.

“I know, Merlin, I’m sorry. You were playing target practise dummy for a big lout of a bandit.”

Recognition flashed in Merlin’s bleary eyes and he scanned Arthur’s face worriedly.

“You hurt?” he managed, his hand squeezing Arthur’s arm even tighter.

“No, I dodged,” he said wryly, wiping the tears from his cheek with the back of his hand.

Merlin sighed. “Good.” His eyes slid shut again.

“No, no, Merlin!” Arthur grabbed his face. Merlin looked up at him. “Keep your eyes open, alright? You have to stay awake until I can get you back to Gaius.”

“Just wanna sleep…” Merlin slurred.

“No, come on, can you stand?”

Merlin moaned as Arthur shifted from underneath him, crouching but keeping his arms around Merlin. He slowly lifted him into a sitting position. Merlin put a hand to his head, his eyes rolling as he tilted sideways against Arthur’s chest.

“So dizzy…”

“I’m sorry, come on,” Arthur said, letting Merlin get his balance before helping him get his feet on the floor. He held Merlin steadily to his chest and stood up, taking most of Merlin’s weight until he was balanced on his own feet.

He let go briefly to bend and pick his sword back up, but kept one hand on Merlin’s sternum to stop him toppling forwards. Once his sword was back in his belt, he pulled Merlin’s arm over his shoulders and drew him against his side, his hip bumping Merlin’s as he took a small step. Merlin staggered but remained upright.

“That’s it, let’s go.”

Arthur helped him stumble forward, his hands tight around him, holding him up as they began walking. He kept half an eye on the trees around them, alert to any more bandits that might try to attack them now they were such an easy target, but the forest seemed to have returned to its quiet peaceful state.

He glanced down at Merlin. His eyelids were drooping, his head lolling to Arthur’s shoulder.

“Merlin, you’ve got to stay awake,” Arthur urged. He patted Merlin’s chest encouragingly. “Engage me in an interesting conversation, come on.”

“Y’don’t like conversation,” Merlin muttered accusatorily. Arthur grinned weakly.

“I do now. Tell me something,” he ordered.

“What you wanna talk about?”

“Dragonflies.”

“They don’t look like dragons,” Merlin repeated Arthur’s earlier words sardonically. He waved a hand vaguely. “Dragons’re bigger.”

Arthur couldn’t help the little puff of laughter that escaped his grinning mouth.

“You’re right there,” he told Merlin. “They’re definitely bigger.”

“’n’ the wings’re different.” He flapped his arm. “’n’ dragonflies don’t give you rubbish advice.”

“Dragons do, do they?” Arthur humoured him, unable to keep the mirth from his voice.

“Uh huh.”

They moved very slowly, having to stop to let Merlin catch his balance every few steps. Arthur kept up his side of the increasingly whimsical conversation as Merlin mumbled nonsensically about dragons and destiny. He’d clearly been listening to too many of Gaius’s bedtime stories. But if it kept him going with his inane prattle, Arthur wasn’t going to stop him.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday8 #this is no time to sleep #bbc merlin #fanfiction #merlin whump #caring arthur #it's those damn bandits again #could be merthur #lovable idiots #ligi writes

[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Five, Side A: Austere

read it here on AO3

A/N: brief mention of Kurt being kissed without consent in season two of Glee

(also! for this two shot: Kurt and Blaine met at Dalton, but never dated.)

“What if we went to Coney Island Saturday?” Brittany exclaimed at their weekly potluck, completely out of the blue. Nobody had even mentioned the theme park. Though, to be fair, nobody begins half of the conversations Brittany throws them in.

For some reason, everyone agreed, even Rachel. She said taking a break from the hustle of Broadway was exactly what she needed to be ready to continue her role as Fanny on Monday.

Outvoted, Kurt reluctantly sat between Blaine and Sam on the subway ride to Coney Island, legs shaking the entire time. It wasn’t that he hated carnivals. It was the opposite, actually. When he was younger, his mom and dad took him to the Ohio state carnival. It’s one of the last memories he can fully remember of her, her long blonde hair braided back as she threw a plastic ball at a stack of milk cans. Anything for her kid, especially one who desperately wanted an oversized dragon plushie.

No, he’s nervous because he has a date at eight.

Kurt met Oliver at a coffeehouse near the Vogue office, he was the barista who served him his drink. Oliver’s number was scribbled on the receipt. It was all very cute, and his friends agreed when he told them the story.

They texted back and forth a week before Oliver asked him out. Kurt happily agreed, hoping for a calm day before getting dressed and heading out to a fancy dinner. Now though, he won’t even have enough time to shower the smell of hotdogs off his body and be on time.

So Kurt’s scrolling through Oliver’s Instagram (not at all like a creep,) when Artie pats his shoulder. “There they are,” he points ahead as the rest of his friends stumble to them, chatting animatedly about the rollercoaster they just went on.

“You know, when you said ‘let’s go on a ride,’ I didn’t think you meant the one with a huge drop,” Rachel says, gripping Santana’s arm so hard it might fall off. Her hair is wind whipped and messy.

“C’mon Rach, you could’ve sat with Kurt and Artie if you wanted,” Mercedes says from behind her, arms wrapped around Sam’s waist.

“Did you guys have fun?” Kurt asks from the bench, carefully closing the app so he doesn’t accidentally like an old photo. “Rachel looks like she just died.” This is why he didn’t go on the ride.

Blaine sits beside him on the bench, his eyes gleaming with a sort of childlike wonder. He’s a total adrenaline junkie. “It was amazing, she’s overreacting,” he whispers not-too-discreetly. Kurt giggles.

“Let’s split up,” Santana suggests. “I wanna go on another coaster, and the park closes at six. We can grab dinner after?”

“Unless you’re Sam and Brittany, who already ate,” Artie chides. His camera rests on his lap, storage filled with videos and photos of their trip.

“Hey! Cotton candy is not one of the five food groups!” Brittany sticks out a blue tongue at him, Sam does the same. Their respective partners laugh.

“I have to leave soon,” Kurt reminds the group, checking his phone another time. Five thirty-two.

“Wait, never mind guys,” Santana alerts, appearing to be suddenly anxious. “Kurt has to get his brains fucked out at eight, so we can’t have dinner.” Both Blaine and Kurt wince.

“Too far, San.” Mercedes cringes as her and Sam make their way down the boardwalk steps and to the beach. The others shake their heads in similar disgust before going their separate ways. Rachel pushes Artie to the outdoor arcade with plans to win a bagged goldfish. Brittany pulls her girlfriend by a sticky hand to the older wooden coaster.

“So…” Blaine knocks his shoulder as they walk down the boardwalk. The gel has completely left his hair throughout the course of the day, curls hanging just above his eyebrows. “Whatcha wanna do?” Kurt spies him eyeing the Wonder Wheel beside him.

He shakes his head, not waiting for the question. “No.”

“Please?” Blaine pleaded. “You haven’t been on anything this whole time.” He sidesteps a tiny toddler crying over a fallen ice cream cone.

“I didn’t want Artie to feel alone!” Kurt defends himself. Which was true, most of the coasters weren’t accessible for him, so they spent the time bonding over the grossness of carnival food and looking at footage from the day.

“We’ll Artie isn’t here now,” Blaine replies, voice dropping an octave. “So come on the ferris wheel with me.” He bats his eyelashes for extra effect. Kurt’s stomach swoops.

Blaine has a way of doing that to him. In their near five year friendship, he’s made Kurt’s stomach tie up in knots more times than he can count. He won’t deny he used to have a crush on him in high school; he was preppy and chivalrous and oh so cute in his bow ties and blazers.

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he sighs. Blaine cheers next to him, mumbling ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’ in the same deep voice that makes the blood rush to Kurt’s face.

Okay, maybe the crush wasn’t entirely dead. But it’s completely normal to have crushes on your friends. Friendly crushes.

Since the park is soon to close, the lines weren’t too long anymore. Kurt and Blaine move up first in line after only five minutes.

The ride operator turns to them. Her hair is bordering on orange. “You guys want an outside or inside car?” Her voice has no expression, and she looks two more button presses from quitting her job.

“Outside.” Kurt and Blaine say at the same time, followed by a quiet laugh.

She eyes them. “Alright.” She presses another button, and the outer ring of ferris wheel carts rotate downwards until an empty one comes to the bottom. “Enjoy the ride.”

Blaine and Kurt slide into the seat, sitting on opposite sides of the enclosure. The ride jerks forward and up, until they’re halfway around the ride. “Are you okay? Your face is really pale.” Blaine asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt squeaks, closing his eyes to avoid looking down. Even though the car is supposed to be stationary, it rocks just a little as it moves up and down to complete its first circle.

Blaine thinks for a moment before saying quietly, “You’re afraid of heights?” He jumps a little in his seat, and the car rocks with it. Kurt’s stomach drops.

“I am!” he snaps, opening his eyes. “Stop moving so much.” The city is lit up around them, the sound of cheers from the rollercoaster whizzing by below him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blaine stills himself. “I wouldn’t have made you go on if you had told me, Kurt!” He looks so worried that Kurt feels bad for even mentioning his fear. It’s completely irrational anyway, he doesn't even have a reason to be so scared. It’s just the fact he believes no human needs to be up one hundred fifty feet high.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he tries to console Blaine (and himself). “It’ll be over in what, three more minutes?” He can last three more minutes. Hell, he’s lasted an hour listening to Rachel and Santana argue.

And then the ride stops. At the very top.

It takes a minute for the two of them to realize this isn’t supposed to happen. “Why’d it stop.” Kurt says. His body feels like it might melt onto the floor. “Oh my god, no.”

“We’re stuck.” Blaine groans, which, thanks Captain Obvious! Those two words are confirmation that this is actually the absolute worst day ever. “I’ll call someone.”

Rachel’s ringtone beats him to it.

Kurt can’t hear much of the conversation, but from the looks Blaine throws his way, he knows it isn’t good. He cracks his knuckles as a way to distract himself from the slight sway of the cart. Passerbys the size of ants point and look up at the malfunctioned ride.

Blaine clicks the end call button. “Okay, good news first, ” he begins, pocketing his phone. “Rachel and Artie talked to the operators, and they’re working on fixing the ride.”

“Bad news?” Kurt presses. Blaine likes to do that thing where he gives good news then bad news, but the latter is always so bad the good news pales in comparison. He’s done that ever since they met. It’s silly, but it’s Blaine, so Kurt loves it.

“Bad news is that it might take thirty minutes, maybe forty-five.” Blaine cringes from the other side of the cart, waiting for Kurt’s outburst.

“No.” Kurt snatches his phone out of his pocket. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” He feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. He’s gonna be late. “I’m gonna miss my date!” He groans, and yeah it may be a little over dramatic, but he hasn’t been on a date with someone in months. He was really excited.

Expecting sympathy from Blaine, he glanced over at him. He’s glaring right back at him. “What?”

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” Blaine says abruptly. “God forbid you miss your date.” He rolls his eyes with more venom Kurt’s seen in him ever. It freaks him out and angers him at the same time.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” He retorts, eyes narrowing. Blaine shrinks back a little at the stare, but doesn’t stop glowering.

“You’ve been going on about this stupid guy the whole day, complaining about how you have to go home, I’m so sick of it!” Blaine continues. His voice grows louder by the end.

“He’s not stupid, okay?” Kurt doesn’t know why he feels like he has to defend Oliver, but he does anyway. “And you’re the main one who wanted me to go out with him!” This whole situation is confusing him.

Blaine huffs indignantly and crosses his arms. “Maybe I don’t want you to anymore!”

“Why not?” Kurt presses. He’s never seen his best friend act like this. He almost seems jealous.

“Because I like you!” Blaine cries, eyes wet. “Jesus, couldn’t you tell?” His face is red now, flushed up to his neck.

Kurt flinches. “Please stop yelling.”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine immediately backs down, curling into himself. “I like you, Kurt. I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but I do.”

The sun is starting to set now, casting what feels like the entire world in an orange haze. The ocean to the right of them glimmers, couples walked in tandem along the shore. To the left, the skyline of Brooklyn appears austere and somber from so high up.

“How long?” Kurt says finally, eyes settling on the horizon and the rolling waves.

“How long what?”

“How long have you liked me?” He doesn’t know if he wants the answer.

There’s a pause until Blaine eventually murmurs, “Five years.”

Kurt’s heart drops. “Blaine.” Why didn’t he say anything? Oh god, this is horrible.

“I just, I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship by admitting anything,” Blaine explains, rubbing the nape of his neck. “It’s a lame excuse. But—yeah.” And he resides back into silence.

It is a lame excuse, Kurt thinks. Of course it wouldn’t have ruined anything. He had a crush on his stepbrother, for Christ’s sake. “So why did you want me to go out with Oliver so bad?”

“I thought, maybe, if you started dating someone I could get over you,” he laughs to himself. “That obviously didn’t work.”

Kurt just stares at him for a moment until he makes up his mind. “I’m coming over there.”

Blaine jerks out of his thoughts. “N-no, don’t come any closer,” he stammers. “You’ll mess up the balance of the car.” He looks terrified. Kurt can’t decide if it’s sad or adorable.

He rolls his eyes. “I won’t mess up the balance of anything.” Kurt stands slowly, holding his arms out to his sides. He takes the three steps to Blaine’s side of the car quickly to get it over with, shaking the seats. When he falls into the seat, Blaine steadies him by the waist. The touch shocks both of them, and he snatches his arm back.

They sit shoulder to shoulder, neither of them daring to move. It’s what feels like hours before Kurt takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. “Do you remember when we first met? And I was having trouble with Karofsky? You texted me a single word. Courage.” He turns to the side. Blaine looks absolutely disheveled, sweating and curls getting frizzier by the minute. Weirdly, he looks gorgeous.

Blaine snorts. “Yeah, that word got you sexually assaulted.”

“No,” Kurt shakes his head, choosing to ignore the way his heart stops from the words. “That word saved me. You saved me, Blaine.” He would’ve never stood up for himself without that text. It got him through McKinley and Dalton and NYADA to this day.

“I’m always going to care about you. And I’m sorry I don’t… like you the way you like me. But I used to,” Kurt admits, now nervous like must’ve been. That secret was supposed to go to the grave. “And maybe I can again.”

Blaine meets his gaze, an emotion Kurt can’t quite place swirling around his eyes. “Okay.” He smiles, and though it is wavering, it’s also hopeful.

There’s a jolt, and the wheel starts turning again. It’s dark now, the sun fully disappeared below the horizon. The sky is a mix of purple and black and blue, a bruise painted among the stars. Kurt hears cheers from the other cars as they reach the ground below. “Okay.”

#spaceorphan’s sophisticated challenge: austere #glee #writing #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #surprise cliffhanger mwahahahaha #jk i’ll continue it tmrw #also these words just keep harder whyyy #this is my official headcanon that kurt’s afraid of heights

[cherrybombfangirl]

Sacrifice

Ninjago Angst Week - Day 4!

@ninjago-angst-week

(my fanseason) Amy knows what she has to do to save her family from the monster she could become. But there’s just one tiny issue with what that entails.........

Warnings: Hatch gets his own warning, death death and more death, major character death, violence, description of lethal injuries, depictions of blood and wounds, guns and gunshot wounds, thoughts of and attempt at suicide, and ANGST so much ANGST I'm not even kidding I really loaded this up with all the ANGST-

This one’s a bit longer than my other ones. Enjoy!

~~~

They finally met up with Nya, Jay, and Cole, who were also very relieved to see Amy alive and in one piece.

Amy gave Jay a suspicious look, "What did you do?"

Jay laughed nervously, "I think we did OK!"

Behind them, a huge explosion went off, triggering alarms.

A tired smile crossed Amy's face and she shook her head. "Missed you too sparkle Fingers. Let's go guys."

They finally made it to the upper levels, where a bunch of Andys were waiting to stop them. Not willing to back down, the ninja jumped fists up (despite everyone being pretty banged up).

They didn't have much in way of weapons, so they all just fought hand to hand or used their powers.

Amy was in barely any shape to fight, but she did what she could.

Jay's lightning and Kai's fire set off more explosions, and gunfire forced them all to find cover behind concrete columns.

Amy launched a small forcefield around the column she and Lloyd were hiding behind, and pain flashed behind her eyes. She hissed, forcing herself to not collapse right there, and leaned against the column.

An Andy dropped dead next to her feet, and she snatched up his gun. It wasn't loaded all the way, but better than no weapon.

"Someone get that crazy doctor guy!" Jay shouted.

"I blasted him with my fire like three times!" Kai said, "How is that psycho still alive?"

Zane quickly peeked around his column and scanned Hatch. "He's been injected with some kind of super-healing immortal serum. It will take much more than some flames to kill him."

"Great," Kai groaned, "As if killing this guy couldn't get any harder with the dozens of person bodyguards swarming him!"

Amy squeezed her eyes shut.

~

They were losing.

~

They were losing and she was going to be turned back into a monster and forced to hurt her family if she didn't do something.

But what?

~

She felt the small syringe stuffed in down the front of her jumpsuit, cold against her tender, torn skin.

Amy reached down her shirt and pulled it out.

The syringe had a horrifying gleam in the firelight behind her.

The image of herself she'd seen back in the First Spinjitzu Master's tomb came to her. She looked exactly the same in that reflection as she did now.

In the back of her mind, she saw the image of a purple panther sacrificing itself to save the other animals- a maroon phoenix, a red lion, a blue octopus, a black gorilla, a white wolf.......... And a golden dragon.

A purple panther.

Her animal symbol.

And all the other animals.......

The animal symbols of the others.

Amy had never seen the image before, yet the image was familiar and she somehow knew it was true and real.

Her fist closed around the syringe and she took a deep breath.

She knew what she had to do.

~

Amy looked around at her friends- her family- fighting to get out of here. To get her out of here.

But if Hatch won, Amy would go straight back to getting brainwashed and hurting her family.

She couldn't do this to them.

But she also couldn't let them get hurt by her.

Amy looked from her family to the fight behind them, torn. Finally, she made her decision. She took a deep breath, grabbed Lloyd, and pulled him into a kiss, making it as long and deep as possible. Letting the kiss give her the strength and courage she needed for what she was about to do.

Lloyd was very caught off guard and surprised, but kissed her back anyway.

She pulled away from a little, whispering, "I'm sorry, I love you, I'm so sorry." Then she broke away- racing into the fray. Lloyd shouted after her, but she was already too far.

"HATCH STOP!" She shouted, the gun aimed at his heart (if he in fact had one, still up for debate).

Hatch turned at her warning, looked at the gun, and scoffed. "Oh, dear Seven, I can't die. I sure you've seen what my new super healing serum can do."

Amy forced herself to put on a brave face and breathe normally. "Maybe you can't die," she said, loud enough for Hatch to hear. Then in one movement, dropped her weapon, pulled out the syringe, and held it to her neck. "But I can."

Hatch's eyes widened with realization, he regained his composure and ordered the Andys to stop. The fighting screeched to a halt, and he chuckled, raising his gun and aiming it at Amy. The Ninja team erupted with fury and started to charge, but Amy held up a hand to stop them.

"Oh, Seven, this is a bit rash, don't you think?" Hatch asked, "Maybe you want to rethink what is at stake here. Consider what you are facing if you use that."

"Oh, I've considered it," Amy said, "I know you need me in order for your plan to work, and that I'm the one thing that will bring you down if I'm gone. So the only way to stop you is to stop me."

Her free hand, the one with a broken arm, shook violently, and not just from the pain. She took a deep, shuttering breath to calm herself.

Hatch desperately tried to defuse the situation. "Now Seven-"

"NO! I AM NOT A PIECE IN YOUR GAME AND I NEVER WILL BE!" Amy shouted.

Hatch snarled then finally snapped, raising his gun and aiming in less than a second. One, two, three bangs, and three red stains began to grow on the already bloodstained white jumpsuit. One on her stomach, one on her shoulder, and one on her leg. Hatch smiled evilly as he lowered his gun.

Then the syringe fell from Amy's hand and shattered to the floor. Empty.

Amy looked up, directly into Hatch's eyes, glaring. "You.......lost......." She ground out before crying out with pain as the poison coursed through her veins like molten lava.

Hatch roared with fury but was cut off by Kai who yelled with anger. There was a huge column of flames (combined with the other's powers), and the evil scientist was gone forever. Andys started dropping immediately with their leader or fighting to kill them all off.

Luckily, the others were able to keep them back with their powers.

Amy let out a gasp of pain, clenching her teeth as she felt her legs give out under her and she stumbled backward into Lloyd. She clutched one hand to the gunshot wound in her stomach and the other to her neck where she had injected the poison in an attempt to stop the pain. Lloyd gently lowered her to the ground, desperately trying to stop the bleeding from the wound on her shoulder.

Amy couldn't hold it any longer as the poison reached her brain, and let out a small cry of pain, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm- I'm not gonna make-"

"No," Lloyd whispered holding her in his arms, "No, no.........no, don't say that," he whispered as his eyes burned with tears. "You're gonna be fine, you- it's fine, you're gonna be fine, we just gotta-" His hand, trying to stop the bleeding in her shoulder, was now slick with blood.

Black blood.

The poison was turning her blood black.

Amy opened her mouth to say something but grimaced with pain. When she tried again, it came out in a whisper between gasps of pain. "Lloyd, I-........." She winced, unable to finish.

"No," Lloyd said, "You can't do this to me, Amy you can't- you can't do this, please, you have to stay, you have to stay with me-"

Bolt, who had been sitting next to them, whined and nudged his owner's hand.

Amy smiled weakly and softly rubbed his head. "Bolt........... You did a great job buddy. I-" She paused, interrupted by coughing fit, hacking up more blood, now turning black. "I....... want you to take care of Lloyd for me until I see you again.............. Alright boy? Will you do that for me?" Bolt whined again and slipped his head under her arm so he could rest his head on her stomach.

Amy looked back to Lloyd, who had tears threatening to spill. Lloyd swallowed hard, trying to keep his tears at bay. She brushed a lock of hair out of his face, and let him take her hand in his.

"No," Lloyd begged, "Please you can't leave me, Amy, please."

"Lloyd............" Amy murmured, "It's OK-"

"No!" Lloyd said again, "No, no, You can't- I can't do this........ Please..........." His voice was shaking, "Amy, please, I can't- I can't lose you too! Please, no......"

"I'm sorry," Amy whispered, "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I'm so, so sorry- I..........." She trailed off, not having enough strength to finish. She pulled him down to her and kissed him with the last of her strength.

The kiss was over as fast as it started, even though for a second, it felt like an eternity to both of them. Amy let her head fall back as she closed her eyes. Her arm slipped from Lloyd's grasp, falling to the ground, lifeless, and she didn't move again.

~~~

#ninjago #ninjago angst #ninjago angst week #ninjago oc #oc: amy anderson #oc: dr. hatch #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #sad lloyd #tw: blood #tw: chatacter death #tw: death #tw: sucidal ideation #tw: suicide #tw: suicide attempt #tw: gun violence #tw: lethal injuries #tw: dehumanization #tw: angst so much angst #ninjago sad #oc: devin #(but she's barley in there) #angst #heavy angst

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch. 4)

Chapter 4

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 3,100

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ 

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

               “Jungkook, please don’t,” Catalina said from behind the counter. Jungkook was reaching for the unwrapped Kit Kat on the ground under a rack of “St. Briggs Lodge” sweatshirts.

               “Three second rule!” he said.

               “You found it there! You didn’t drop it!” said Catalina. She watched in horror as he picked it up and bit into it.

               “It’s fine. It’s not even old,” he said. Catalina groaned and put her head in her hands. The bell above the door rang as a customer walked in. Jungkook ran to join Catalina behind the counter as he stuffed the rest of the Kit Kat into his mouth. They tried to look busy folding the t-shirts in the box behind the counter. Catalina peeked at whoever it was that came in. Two people were browsing the ceramic fairy and dragon figurines. Two guys, one slightly taller than the other. Catalina couldn’t see their faces from where she was, but they looked like they might be hot.

               “Potential hottie alert,” Catalina whispered. Jungkook looked up and tried to catch a glimpse of them. The two men were chatting with each other quietly. One of them turned around. He was wearing sunglasses, but Catalina could tell he was definitely a hottie. When he came more into view, Catalina eyed him over more. His shoulders looked strong and his chest was muscular, she could tell even in his sweater…

               “Thighs,” Jungkook whispered. Catalina looked down at the tight jeans that hugged the man’s thighs perfectly.

               “Thighs,” Catalina agreed. The other man was just as beautiful; soft hair, lanky but strong looking figure, sharp jawline. This guy wore sunglasses too, red tinted aviators. “Who the hell are these guys?”

               Jungkook shrugged.

               “Thank you!” the red sunglasses guy said as the two men made their way out of the store.

               “Wow, what a treat,” Catalina said as soon as the door fell shut.

               “It’s not even winter yet,” said Jungkook. “And we’re already getting the hot tourists.”

               “Are the winter tourists usually hot?” asked Catalina.

               “A lot of the surfers from down south come up here in the winter to stay at the lodge, and they’re all these tanned, hot people from Los Angeles. It’s fun,” said Jungkook.

               “I’m sure. They didn’t really look like tourists though,” said Catalina.

               “No not really,” said Jungkook.

               “Hey, so I’ve been thinking,” said Catalina.

               “About?”

               “About that story you told at the bonfire,” said Catalina.

               “I think we’re thinking the same thing,” said Jungkook. “Okay, on three, let’s say what we’re thinking. One, two, three, let’s break into the house.”

               “I wanna see the house.”

               They looked at each other before laughing.

               “Well, I don’t wanna break in if someone’s living there, but I definitely want to see it,” said Catalina. “I had a dream about it last night.”

               “Did my scary story give you nightmares? That’s awesome,” said Jungkook.

               “I don’t know, I’ve been having the same dream for a few weeks now. But this time it was the house you described in your story,” said Catalina.

               “What are your dreams about?” asked Jungkook.

               “I don’t usually remember most of it, but I’m always being chased by this group of people who are supernaturally faster and stronger than me.”

               “That’s crazy. Maybe it means ghosts are real and your dreams are telling us we need to go ghost hunting in that house,” said Jungkook.

               “I don’t know how you got to that conclusion,” said Catalina. “But sure. Let’s do it.”

               “Oh my god, yes! I’m so excited. I have this camera that can do night vision, I’ve always wanted to do like a ghost hunting documentary,” said Jungkook. “We’ll come up with code names for the documentary. I’ll be JK Booker, a veteran ghost hunter who’s coming out of retirement for the job of a lifetime. You can be Claire Valdivant, a clairvoyant who can talk to spirits.”

               Catalina laughed until her stomach hurt.

               “How long have you thought about this?” she wheezed.

               “I just came up with it-“

               “Bullshit!”

               “I’ve been wanting to do this my whole life! Just let me live my dream!” he said.

               Catalina wiped a tear from her eye and said, “No, I’m totally in. Let’s do it. Hopefully, no one lives there, I really wanna make this documentary now.”

               “We can invite Jimin, since you guys are friends now,” said Jungkook. “I’ll have to come up with a character for him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                 “I’m Sergeant Vic, a former detective who quit the police force after witnessing a ghostly murder. Now I spend my days searching for the truth about the paranormal,” Jimin said. “You can call me Sarge.”

               “Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to be so into this,” said Catalina. The three of them were in Jungkook’s garage. He was packing his trunk with camera and sound equipment, along with rope, flares and flashlights. Catalina figured they wouldn’t need much else other than the flashlights, but she wasn’t about to say anything to ruin the fun. She was definitely ready for her role. She had wanted to get into character as much as she could so she wore a low riding skirt with a crocheted crop top. She even had a pair of round sunglasses resting on top of her head. Jimin had arrived in slacks, suspenders, a fedora, and a beige trench coat.

               “I like your fedora,” said Jungkook.

               “Thanks. It’s my brother’s. He went through a phase in high school,” said Jimin.

               “I thought that was you,” said Jungkook.

               “No, I had the muscle shirt phase,” said Jimin. “Equally as bad.”

               “Right. Well, I think we have everything we need,” said Jungkook. “We’ll park at the souvenir store and then walk from there. It shouldn’t be too far.”

               “Shotgun!” Catalina yelled as she ran for the passenger seat. Jimin sighed and went to the backseat.

               The forest flew past them as Jungkook drove them up into the mountains. They parked in the tiny parking lot next to the store, which was closed at this hour of the night. In the parking lot, before they started their hike, Jungkook attached lavaliers to their collars.

“Protect these things with your life. They’re expensive,” said Jungkook.

The sun was just about to set. They’d be doing their hike back in the dark. Catalina didn’t know how she felt about that, especially because of that kidnapper on the loose. But she had pepper spray in her fanny pack and Jungkook had a huge knife strapped to his utility vest, so she figured they’d be fine.

               The hike wasn’t too long. They managed to find the rocky crag Jungkook had described in his story, which looked intimidating, but Jungkook led the way through an easy path to the top. The trail led them to the cobblestone driveway and a gated property.

               “This is it?” asked Catalina.

               “This is it,” said Jungkook. “Holy shit, this is crazy. It looks exactly the same! Well, no, there’s flowers in the front now. It was all overgrown back then.”

               “There’s definitely someone living here,” said Catalina.

               “Let’s look for a side door,” said Jimin.

               Catalina sighed. “If we get arrested tonight, I am absolutely throwing you guys under the bus.”

               “Well, that’s rude. I wouldn’t do that to you,” said Jungkook. “I thought we were ride or die?”

               “Yeah, wait a second. Are we resorting to every man for himself if we get caught?” asked Jimin. “I don’t want to get arrested.”

               “We won’t get arrested. I don’t think there’s anyone living here. It still looks overgrown and abandoned,” said Jungkook. “We should probably figure this out before we go in. Ride or die? Or every man for himself?”

               “Ride or die,” said Catalina. “I trust you guys.”

               “Ride or die,” said Jimin.

               “Ride or die,” said Jungkook. “Let’s get it.”

               Jungkook pulled out his camera and started recording.

               “This is JK Booker here with Clair and Sarge,” Jungkook said, making his voice sound deep and gravelly. He turned the camera to Catalina and Jimin. “We’re here at the mountain mansion, famous for holding ancient spirits. Tonight, the three of us are going to talk to those spirits.”

               Catalina led the way as they walked to the side of the massive mansion, searching for a side door. Jungkook brought up the rear, in order to catch everything on camera. They came upon a cracked, overgrown patio which led to the glass door of what used to be a conservatory. The steps up to the patio were crumbled, so they had to climb up the side. The glass door opened easily. The three of them crept into the glass room, eyeing the broken and overturned pots spilling dusty soil across the tiled floor. At the other end of the conservatory was another door, presumably leading into the house.

               They entered into a kitchen. It was dark and there were cobwebs above the cupboards. It didn’t look like it had been abandoned for long. Maybe a year or two. Catalina wasn’t sure. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. This was much more adventure than she’s ever had before. They went further into the house.

               “Here we are,” Jungkook whispered. “In the belly of the beast. Guys, keep your eyes peeled for any suspicious sounds or voices.”

               “Got it,” said Catalina. “Wait, I feel…a presence.”

               “Who is it, Claire?” asked Jimin. “Is it a spirit?”

               “It is a spirit,” said Catalina. She closed her eyes and held out her hands. “Someone is nearby. They have a strong energy. An angry energy.”

               “We’ll proceed with caution then. I’ve had my fair share of violent spirits,” said Jungkook.

               “Tell me about it,” said Jimin. “The things I’ve seen-“

               “Tae Tae, is that you?” a voice asked from somewhere up ahead. The three friends froze. A man came around the corner and saw them, immediately tripping and falling back, screaming at the top of his lungs. Catalina, Jimin and Jungkook also screamed at the top of their lungs. The man scrambled to his feet and ran away, screaming, “There’s people in the house and one of them has a huge knife!”

               “We need to get out of here,” said Jimin. Catalina looked at him and saw that his face was sheet white, eyes like saucers.

               Before they could get far though, the man came back, flicking on a light switch in the kitchen. He saw them and screamed again, flinging the IPhone from his hand, his back hitting the wall.

               “We’re not gonna hurt you!” said Catalina. “We’re sorry we broke in, we didn’t know someone lived here.”

               The man took a deep breath and looked at them again. Catalina thought he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

               “I’m sorry, the knife is really making me nervous,” the man said. He was trying to make his voice sound brave but he was still cowering against the wall. “Put it on the ground and explain yourselves.”

               Jungkook hurried to take the knife off of his vest and set it on the ground. The man gulped and stood up straight.

               “My name is Catalina,” Catalina said in what she hoped was a calm voice. “This is Jungkook and Jimin. We thought this house was abandoned and haunted. We’re just some dumb college students who wanted to check it out. We’re really sorry for breaking in and scaring you.”

               “Why are you dressed like that?” the man asked.

               “We were making a ghost hunting documentary,” said Jungkook.

               The man sighed and said, “Oh, well the show must go on. I can go upstairs and bump around a bit for your movie. Maybe make some spooky voices. I’m good at voice acting.”

               “What’s happening right now?” Jimin whispered.

               Another set of footsteps could be heard running towards the kitchen. They stopped at the entrance and a head peeked in.

               “Hobi? What’s going on? Why were you screaming?” the new stranger asked. He looked over at the three friends who were still standing in the kitchen, terrified. “Oh, hello! I didn’t know we had guests.”

               He stepped into the kitchen and said, “My name is Kim Taehyung, this is Jung Hoseok.”

               Taehyung was probably one of the most beautiful people Catalina had ever seen. He had fluffy black hair, big eyes with a beauty mark under the left one, and full lips. He looked a little bit like a god maybe. The man who had first found them, who was picking his phone up off the ground, was also stunning. He had dark golden skin, a sharp jawline, pretty face, and silky parted hair. However, only for a moment did their beauty distract Catalina from noticing their eyes. Their eyes were red. Blood red.

               “They were making a ghost hunting documentary,” Hoseok explained. “They didn’t know people lived here.”

               “Oh! How fun! Can we help you finish your film?” Taehyung asked.

               “Uh, actually, we should probably just get going,” said Jimin. “We shouldn’t be out too late, we have classes early in the morning.”

               “Oh,” Taehyung’s face fell. “Well, we won’t keep you then.”

               “Actually, I guess we could-“ Jungkook started. 

               “Jungkook!” Jimin slapped a hand over Jungkook’s mouth. “Can we have a moment to talk real fast?”

               “Sure! Just let us know if you need anything,” said Hoseok. “We have water and I think soda. And if you’re hungry-“

               “Okay, thank you,” said Catalina, grabbing Jimin and Jungkook’s arms to drag them away. “We’re okay for now.”

               Hoseok and Taehyung stepped out of the kitchen and Catalina turned to look at the boys. Jimin still looked pale.

               “I say we let them help us make the doc,” said Jungkook.

               “Are you crazy?” asked Jimin. “Did you not see the way they were acting? They’re weird! This is weird!”

               “Sure, they’re a little creepy and their eyes are red, but maybe they’re just goth,” said Jungkook. “You never know.”

               “Hoseok was wearing a pastel windbreaker. No goth would ever touch that with a ten foot pole,” said Catalina.

               “True…But Taehyung looked so sad when we said we were leaving,” Jungkook said with a pout.

               “Yeah, I bet he wants us to stay because they’re serial killers or something. They want to trap us in the house,” said Jimin. Then he grabbed his hair and gasped. “Oh god, we’re gonna die in here. We didn’t even tell anyone where we were going.”

               “It’s fine guys, we’re not gonna die,” said Jungkook. “My knife is still within reach and Cat, you have pepper spray, right?”

               “Yeah, I do,” said Catalina. “It’ll be extra painful with their contacts.”

               “Exactly. I say, we just let them help us make the doc and then we can leave, potentially with new friends,” said Jungkook.

               “Oh Gukkie, you sweet baby,” said Catalina, shaking her head. “But…I suppose we could try.”

               “Well, I can’t act when I’m nervous, so I’m not gonna be playing Sergeant Vic anymore. You’re just gonna have to work with nervous Jimin,” said Jimin. “I hope you’re happy.”

               “I am!” said Jungkook, clapping his hands. “Taehyung, Hoseok, you can come back in!”

               They came back into the room with hopeful smiles on their faces.

               “You can help us make the video,” said Jungkook.

               “But no murdering us,” said Jimin, pointing his finger at them.

               “Yeah, no funny business,” said Catalina. “Because pepper spray is gonna be way more uncomfortable in those contacts of yours, and that’s all I gotta say about that.”

               “I don’t understand any of that,” said Taehyung with a huge smile on his face. “Oh, I’m so excited! I promise on my mother’s grave that there will be no murdering or funny business. Now, what do you want me to do for your film?”

               Jungkook directed everyone from there. They ended up getting some cool shots of Hoseok bumping around behind closed doors and standing creepily at the end of halls. They got an interview with Taehyung, who was acting as the scared owner of the house. Catalina staged a séance and Hoseok threw a chair into the wall from off screen.

               “I think that’s a wrap, guys!” said Jungkook.

               “I can’t believe I did that,” said Hoseok, eyeing the dent in the wall where the chair hit. “Why did I do that? We’re gonna have to fix this and repaint. We’ll have to repaint everything, we can’t get this wallpaper anywhere.”

               “Wow, that was actually really fun!” said Catalina. “Taehyung, you were a pretty good actor!”

               “Thank you,” said Taehyung. “I’ve always wanted to try acting. Maybe this film can be my debut.”

               As Jungkook started packing up his film equipment and Hoseok continued to fret over the mess of the broken chair and dented wall, Catalina watched Jimin. He didn’t seem scared anymore. He was happily chatting with Taehyung, joking and answering questions about his classes. Catalina didn’t feel nervous anymore either, despite how strange this whole situation was. Taehyung and Hoseok were both so friendly, and Hoseok was such a scaredy cat all throughout filming, Catalina really had no reason to be afraid of these guys.

               “Send me the link when you post this,” said Hoseok, handing his phone over to Jungkook, who put his number into the phone and handed it back. “Do you edit these yourself?”

               “Yeah, I just use Final Cut, it’s pretty easy, but it doesn’t have a lot of effects,” said Jungkook. “That’s okay though, I prefer using practical effects anyway. They always look better. Also, I can’t afford any of those effects programs right now.”

               “Are you in school right now for film?” asked Hoseok. Jungkook nodded. “Are you a student at the university too?” Hoseok asked Catalina.

               “Yeah, I’m majoring in dance,” she said. Hoseok’s entire face lit up. “So is Jimin.”

               “No way! I was also majoring in dance!” he said. “I miss it so much!”

               “You stopped dancing after college?” asked Catalina.

               “I didn’t have a choice,” Hoseok shrugged. “Bad circumstances and all that. I never even got to finish my degree.”

               “Come to the studio with us one of these days,” said Catalina. “We can put on a playlist and just mess around.”

               Hoseok actually looked like he might cry. “I would love that. That sounds awesome.”

               He and Catalina exchanged numbers and Catalina put them in a group chat with Jimin, calling it “Dance Crew”.

               “I wonder if Namjoon is around,” said Taehyung. “He would love to meet you guys.”

               “Who is that?” asked Catalina.

               “He’s our other roommate,” said Hoseok. Then he ran to the stairs and hopped up a few before shouting, “Namjoon-ah!!!”

               “What?” a voice answered from upstairs.

               “Come downstairs and meet our new friends!” said Hoseok.

#bts #bts fanfction #knights of the night #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongguk #Jimmy K #rm #jin #yoongi #suga #jhope #hobi #jimin #v #jungkook #captain kirk #crystalstar

[mommy-medusa]

Medusa’s Child

First chapter of Medusa’s Child! I’m posting this just as a test to see if y’all like it!

———————

She was first alerted of a presence by an uneven splashing against the nearby shore.

It was the early evening, and the sun was at its best point in the sky, raining down on Sarpedon in just the right way to make her scales light with painless flames. She stretched out on her branch, pressing her bare belly up to the warm rays. Her tail flicked lazily while her mane of snakes hissed and tugged in the direction of the noises. She swatted a clawed hand at them.

  “Let him come,” Medusa murmured in a husky, languid voice, not bothering to open her eyes. “You know he won’t stand a chance anyway.” She ran her black talons down her exposed breasts and stomach, chuckling deeply. “He may as well die with the image of a beautiful woman in his mind. We can give him that, at least.”

There were mixed reactions from her snakes, some spats of disapproval, some hisses of agreement, but they all coiled back down into quietness. Or, as quiet as a head full of serpents could be.

Compared to other creatures across the land, Medusa had a remarkably good childhood if she did say so herself. Her parents were the ferocious Ceto and cold Phorcys, ancient sea gods that kept the ocean seething with their monstrous children.

Phorcys was a grey-haired, fish-tailed mountain of a man, with rough red, spiky crustacean skin and huge crab claws that were strong enough to snap off the head of any mortal man that approached his territory. He was faster than any sea creature and stronger than any current in the existing waters. He could create a tsunami big enough to drown Greece with one splash of his mighty tail.

Ceto was quite possibly more terrifying than her father, however. She was a fair maiden with shiny, unblemished ivory skin she never covered up and long, wavy black hair that floated like Kraken tentacles in the water around her. Her eyes were green and sharp enough to cut through obsidian, and her voice was booming enough to crack the earth and drain the entire ocean. She was as venomous as her animal creations, but she taught Medusa discipline and respect at a very young age.

Together, the two of them brought forth a myriad of devilish children. Ekhidna, a dangerous she-dragon with the head and breasts of a beautiful woman and the body of a coiling serpent; Scylla, a giant crab that ate sailors; Ladon, a dragon with one hundred head; the Graiai, three grey hags that shared one tooth and one eye; and the Gorgons, a trio of women with the bodies of serpents and hair made of living, venomous snakes.

Medusa was a part of the final group. Which was the best, for the record.

Medusa and her two sisters were born on a dark day, where the sky seethed with storm and the sea seemed to wrath against its gods. Through crashing waves and spitting sea foam, Ceto dredged her soaked, swollen body from the hissing water and into a cave where it was dry. The tide tried to chase her, nipping at her heels like desperate piranhas, but could not chase her all the way up the sand.

Within the cave, the pelting rain and howling gales were muffled by thick stone. Droplets of water dripped from stalactites that hung from the ceiling like dozens of monster fangs. Small tidepools were laid across the ground like traps, seemingly existing to trip Ceto and make her crash down onto her thick belly. But she managed to avoid them, hissing strings of curses to the starfish and crabs and tiny fish that thrived within the wet sinkholes before collapsing to the ground, powerful cramps rippling through her body.

There, Ceto gave birth in the eye of a raging hurricane, her monstrous children writhing out of her womb, clawing and scratching for the world outside of her body.

Stheno was first, born thrashing and hissing and brimming with rage the moment she came out. She was a thin little thing, but her blood red tail whipped around with enough power to crumble mountains. Her crimson mane of snakes sprung to life instantly, fangs flashing, hissing so loud they challenged the whirlwind outside the cave. The scales upon her head and face made it look like she was permanently stained in mortal blood, and the boar tusks curling out from her mouth looked wickedly sharp. Mere moments after being born, she had lunged at a tidepool and ripped apart a small crab with bronze claws, devouring it in just a few snaps of her powerful jaws.

Euryale came next, sliding out in a slick of fluids and screaming so loud she threatened to bring the whole cave down on top of them. Her white and yellow tail lashed as she cried, sending clumps of wet sand flinging through the air. The mane of snakes upon her skull, which had red snouts that looked like they had been dipped in blood, wailed with her, strange, raspy sounds that vibrated through the air like static electricity. There were small horn nubs protruding from her forehead, which had explained the pain when she was coming out. Stheno tackled her, whacking their tails together, and began wrestling with her.

Finally, out came Medusa, green scales shiny and new-looking. The first thing she remembered was seeing her eldest sister chewing on her second eldest sister’s tail. She had blinked her golden yellow eyes at them, flicking her own emerald green tail like she was expecting something to be attached to it. And then, she was lifted up and she saw a beautiful woman gazing down at her. Her mane of snakes snapped at the long black hair cascading down onto her belly.

  “What peculiar little beast you all are,” She remembered her mother rumbling. Ceto scooped up Stheno and Euryale and held all three sisters in front of her. “And what slayers you will all be, indeed.”

And she was right.

Medusa’s childhood passed by in a blur of mortal blood and seawater. Her mother taught her how to strike fear into mortal men. Her father taught her how to swim and fly when all of their wings eventually grew in. And her sisters taught her to hide her prey or else it would get stolen.

She was raised in the darkest reaches of the ocean depths, where granite tunnels formed interlocking caves and caverns below the rolling waves. While most children grew up raising family goats and playing with dolls made of straw, Medusa and her sisters grew up taming sea monsters and playing hide-and-seek with venomous lionfish. They created crags of coral along the seafloor with their eyes alone and swept through the ocean currents on scaled wings. When they would go up to the surface, they watched the mortals in their wooden vessels, laughing at the way they attempted to overpower the waves that rocked them mercilessly.

That was when they discovered their deadly eye power.

Medusa was a monstrous teenager, floating along the ocean’s surface, when Stheno presented the idea to her.

  “Swim into their nets and pretend to be dead,” Her older sister had said. Sunlight glinted off her blood red scales. When she smiled, her teeth were like a shark’s. “When they pull you up, give them a scare.”

Medusa gave a laugh. The only thing better than observing a mortal’s stupidity was causing the mortal’s stupidity by interacting with them. Of course, she agreed.

She swam into one of the large nets drifting beneath the boat, startling off a cloud of slippery grey-blue fish. She let herself get tangled up in its loops, tugging on the ropes enough to alert the sailors. After a few moments, the net began to rise, and she faintly heard the giggling of her sister’s vibrating through the water.

Cool sea air hit her bare skin; a series of gasps exploded throughout the vessel. The rough feeling of wood chafed against the scales on her exposed back as the net was dropped into the boat. She struggled to keep in the giggles and play dead as loud murmurs whisked around her.

The men were wondering what she was, asking themselves how they managed to wrangle up a thing. One of them poked her tail with something pointy and she almost flinched, but managed to tighten her muscles and stay still.

And then, there was a hand grabbing her breast.

The man above her purred out something about her being beautiful and warm and the others should “give it a try.”

Her eyes snapped open wide. She ogled the man above her in shock and fear and disgust; he was a scruffy and flabby creature with hungry eyes and crooked yellow teeth. His hand remained on her breast as they locked gazes, and then his face did something strange.

It twitched. And his eyes went weirdly blank. And he sucked in a harsh breath.

The man’s entire body jerked like his soul was trying to claw its way out of his back. His brown eyes bulged and rolled wildly in his skull, and Medusa could see grey spreading rapidly over the eye balls.

Stone began to march across the man’s flesh like a swarm of fire ants. He tried to scratch it off, but his nails bounced right off. His movements quickly began to stiffen as whatever came over him took hold.

His chest froze solid first, then his hands and feet, his ears, his arms and legs, all the way to his throat. His eyes were no longer brown, rather blank grey. His greasy blonde hair did not sway in the cool breeze. His mouth was open, teeth blunted by rock, and twisted in an agonized expression. One hand was extended outward to his crewmates in a final gesture of desperation.

The man had been turned to stone.

The other mortals on the boat began to frenzy. Some ran away in fear, others brandished their weapons, but they, too, met the ill fate of their crewmate. One stare and they hardened into a statue against their will.

Stheno and Euryale had been alerted by the noise and they flew up to the ship. Both of them looked shocked at what was going on.

  “What is happening?” Euryale asked.

  “I-- I don’t know.” Medusa replied, slowly sitting up. She was absurdly confused at what was going on. “I turned them to stone.”

  “How?” Stheno demanded.

  “I looked at them.”

  “Hm.” Stheno lashed out at a fleeing young man and flared her giant red wings open, essentially trapping him. Medusa heard a short scream, and then silence. When her sister pulled back, the man was frozen in an encasing of stone.

The discovery of their power sparked great fear across the land, but amazement inside Medusa and her sisters. Stheno used it the most, killing more men than Medusa and Euryale combined. She kept her favorite statues in her lair as trophies, adorning them with her jewels and other treasures.

Euryale rarely ever killed, not because she didn’t like it, but because she never went out of her way to go around mortals. She rather watch them from afar, observing their strange hive mind mentality.

Medusa was a mix between the two. Sometimes she would simply stay away, other times she liked to see how dumb mortal men were when she came across them.

When they eventually came of age, the three sisters ventured off from the darkness of their homeland sea. Medusa went to an island called Sarpedon, claiming it as her own domain. Mortal men saw it as an arena, however, and often sailed to her home to challenge her. It wasn’t long before her island was filled with the statues of foolish men, decorating her gardens with the trophies of her success.

And another was about to be added to the collection.

There were crashes through her jungle; the stupid man was romping through her home and disturbing her nap!

Sighing, Medusa uncoiled her elegantly long body from the tree branch and carefully climbed down the trunk. Her emerald green scales and lucious brown skin shimmered in the sunlight filtering down from the canopy of leaves up above, dewdrops from the condensation of her garden sliding like melted diamonds down her tail. She slithered through the weeds, passing by ruined pillars and petrified statues, all of which were swathed with moss and vines. She admired them as she went by, as she always did, as she always would. It was quite lonely on her island, but she rather be alone than have the company of a man.

A spray of bright yellow birds exploded from the trees when she came slithering by. Sharp-tusked creatures of fur darted in and out of the bushes, poised and waiting to flee while they watched her. The boars always liked to test her. Perhaps that was what made them so delicious. The looks on their faces when she managed to snatch one and scarf them down was priceless.

There was rustling near the bay. Medusa pricked one of her pointed ears while her mane of venomous snakes hissed in alertness. She smacked the nose of one of them to quiet them down and then went after her prey.

  “Hello?” She called out in a purr. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

Emerging from the lush underbrush, Medusa set her eyes on the small wooden boat bobbing slowly in the waves that splashed upon her shore. Even through the cracking of seawater and crackle of forest fronds behind her, she could hear small noises emitting from the vessel. A smirk came upon her face, flashing her fangs into the sun.

Medusa flicked her ears and slithered out onto the beach. A bright red crab saw her coming and darted into the splashing waves to hide. A mere crustacean was the least of her concern right now, though. She could eat later.

Right now, she had bigger prey to catch.

Nobody fled from the boat as she approached it, which she found odd. Usually the men ran towards her or at least away from her, none of them ever lied still like an animal in a trap, waiting for her to end their pathetic existence.

Well. At least it made her job easier. Rushing through the jungle wasn’t exactly her favorite pastime.

  “Here we go, ladies,” Medusa whispered to her snakes, earning a harmony of eager hisses.

Medusa sprang up to the boat, claws raised and brandished, fangs bared, wings flared out to their full size. Her snakes swelled up and hissed loudly, mouths loaded with potent venom. Her bright yellow eyes were flashing, ready to strike this man into stone, and--

--and she froze.

There was no man in this vessel.

It was a woman.

She was a mangy, bedraggled mortal, with matted brown hair, agonized amber eyes, and mud-slathered ashy skin. But upon closer inspection, Medusa realized that it wasn’t mud at all, it was blood. And the woman was absolutely dripping in it thanks to the giant gash across her belly, along with numerous other cuts from swords and holes from arrows. In her bony arms, she clutched a tiny bundle swathed in sheep’s wool to her heaving chest.

  “I apologize over intruding, fair lady,” Croaked the woman, her voice thick with her own blood. “You do have to understand my dilemma. I am afraid I cannot leave, though…there is not much time left for me anyway.” She coughed, and the wound across her abdomen strained so much that Medusa was surprised all her guts didn’t come bursting out. “I made it this far. Wrapping my wounds, washing them out with saltwater in a vain attempt to combat infection. But I am afraid my breast milk must taste like blood. And nothing will matter anyway. They treat us like SLAVES. Breeding cows owned by our husband. I had to kill him! I couldn’t let him arrange MY BABY--” A coughing fit consumed her, and blood gushed from her mouth as if her aorta had been severed. “I had to… I had to…”

Medusa was still. Not even her snakes were snapping or hissing, instead bobbing silently around her head. They, too, were stunned at the outpour of emotions spilling out at them.

The woman craned her head around slowly. When her body spasmed as if it had been shocked, Medusa knew the stone curse had taken hold. And yet, the mortal smiled.

  “You…” She rasped. The curse always started in the chest and spread like a wildfire throughout the rest of the body; her lungs were rapidly being devoured by stone. “You are no monster…”

Medusa reared back slightly. If this stranger willingly meeting her gaze wasn’t strange enough, then that certainly was. Medusa knew better than anything that she was a monster, it was what her mother taught her.

  “I didn’t expect the man-slayer to be so beautiful,” The woman went on. She pulled the wool-swaddled bundle from her chest and held it out as dark grey marched across her skin. “Well, Medusa, killer of men…now’s your chance to show the cosmos what you truly are.”

The woman’s entire body froze, locked in an eternal casing of stone. She wouldn’t be in pain any longer, for her gaping wounds had been filled in with granite. In her petrified grey hands, rested the bundle.

Medusa carefully peered over the wrapping of wool and to the tiny baby resting within it, undisturbed by the ill fate of its mother.

For a long moment, only the crashing of waves and distant sound of island fauna filled the beach. The crab from earlier came cautiously creeping out of the wet sand, but bolted the moment it saw Medusa move to scoop up the little mortal.

It had to be only a few months old, if mortals were anything like her and her sisters. She was now wishing she had studied humans as much as Euryale had. She had no idea if it was supposed to be this light or small or what gender it even was. What she did know, however, was that it was very, very white, as if it had never been in the sun before. She also noticed the tufts of ashy brown hair on its head and the constellation of freckles swirling across its chubby cheeks. Unfortunately, she was unable to see its eyes, as she had to whip her gaze away when its eyelids began to flutter.

Medusa stared intensely at a cluster of seaweed-tangled driftwood as the baby in her arms began to make little noises while it woke up. It shifted in its wool blankets, sending small tremors through Medusa’s arms, but then Medusa realized that was just from her own trembling.

What was she going to do with this thing? She couldn’t bring herself to gaze into its innocent eyes and infect its helpless body with cold stone. She couldn’t leave it to be eaten by the animals on her island, either. And she DEFINITELY couldn’t raise it herself, and yet…

Medusa held the baby to her chest and felt its soft cheek press against her skin. Its pasty flesh was warm against her own, and she couldn’t help but cuddle it closer. One of her snakes made a low hiss.

  “You will say nothing.” Medusa warned as she turned and went back into the forest.

Medusa began slithering through the dense brambles and interlocking thickets of lianas. The tangled trees seemed to be reaching for her and her mortal straggler with long trailing roots and branches like skeletal fingers snarled together overhead to create a canopy of sorts. Sunlight filtered in from above, casting pale yellow spots across the large boulders and ruined pillars dotting the foliage. They were all huge and just lied around like the remnants of an ancient landslide. A few packed together tightly against a tall fjord of earth, creating a rocky corridor of sorts. There was another path to get to the other side, beneath a log suspended in the air by two crags and through some weeds, but Medusa decided the crevice would be easier to traverse with the child she was holding.

Walking through the passageway felt like she was getting a hug from the Gaia herself. It was a slight squeeze to go through, she had to hunch her shoulders in to keep them from scraping against the walls, but it felt worth it for the sake of saving time.

Yellow and purple flowers were blooming from vines etched in the moss-matted bedrock on either side of her. Orange and green and amber were streaked through the rock walls, glowing beneath streams of water that glittered like melted pearls from a spring somewhere up above. Specks of sunlight bleeding in through the canopy above would hit the stone’s tears in just the right way to set them off in radians of iridescent and silver. The deep emerald moss was fluffy beneath Medusa’s fingers when she tentatively touched the patches. Ahead, she then saw braids of vine dangling down from a long, reaching branch that had itself draped over one of the boulders. When she pushed through the curtain, she was met with a small clearing full of scattered trees that broke down and folded into a field of rock crags that bordered a glistening river.

Medusa walked through the grass and down onto the shoreline. Most of the bay there were shallows that have leaked into the openings between stony ridges risen from the ground. She shivered as she waded through the water, feeling the cold jolt through her scales. She clambered up the first rock she could reach as fast as she could, doing her best to not splash the delicate cargo she was holding.

Medusa had to traverse the rock formations carefully. Usually she jetted across them, but now she had a fragile mortal baby in her arms. She didn’t want to accidentally trip and be sent sprawling onto the little one.

As she crossed over a fallen log that allowed access to the other side of the river that fed into the ocean and to the dense jungle bordering the shore, a dark green and yellow, blobby frog croaked from in a pool of bubbling mud, then bobbled at them with its big yellow eyes. Medusa’s mane of snakes hissed in a chorus and the frog nearly keeled over dead as it scrambled back into the depths of the mud. Medusa chuckled, then shifted the baby closer to her bosom when it squirmed.

  “I’m sorry, little one,” She said. “Hang on for a little longer. We aren’t very far.”

Through the vines and under the branches she went until Medusa broke into her gardens.

It was the greenest part of all of Sarpedon, bursting with flora and fauna alike. Pillars from fallen ancient ruins dotted the area, forming ledges and small places to hide when it would rain. One of the temples was just barely still intact, though overgrown with flowers and plants. Medusa always thought it was an eyesore in the midst of all her nature, but now that she was looking at it, she thought it would make a brilliant home for a child.

  “Urrg,” She shook her head wildly, causing her snakes to hiss in shock at being jostled. “Stupid.”

She set the child down on some flowers and began to pace throughout her gardens. She tried not to listen to the whimpers and hiccups up the baby, tried not to look over at it in fear of getting too attached to something she knew she could not keep, tried to stop herself from rushing back over and scooping it into her arms once again because she felt like it belonged there.

  “What was needed to summon her again?” Medusa muttered to herself. She looked at her snakes. “Palm trees, right?”

The snakes seemed just as clueless as she was.

  “It was palm trees. But hopefully palm leaves will do because I am not cutting down an entire tree for this.”

She did, however, end up hacking off a large piece of palm back on the beach, all for something she definitely did not care about or want to keep. She forced herself to stare at the fire as she burned the husk and fronds of a palm tree. When the flames grew high enough, she took a breath and spread her wings to the sky.

  “Leto, mighty Titanides, goddess of motherhood, bearer of Artemis and Apollo, lend me your aid. Receive my call, for I need you.”

For a moment, all was silent, and Medusa almost felt embarrassed for even trying such a measly summoning, and then the fire crackled and sparked, and a body formed out from the smoke.

Medusa had forgotten just how massive the Titans were. Leto was as tall as the trees, and as sturdily built as one, too, especially for someone who was known solely for giving birth for nine days straight.

Swathed in emerald green robes that were inlaid with silver and gold weaving patterns, Leto now stood before Medusa. Her wavy brown hair floated weightlessly around her head, as if she, too, had a living, writhing mane upon her scalp. Her eyes were a deep, piercing yellow-green color, seeming to drill into Medusa. Around her neck she wore the red-brown fur of a weasel as if it were a scarf and a sun and moon pendant, most likely in remembrance of her children. When she spoke, her voice was deeper than Medusa expected, but also sounded like molten honey that was slathering gold.

  “It has been a long time since I was called upon,” The Titan rumbled. The faint golden glow around her faded and her hair was released from whatever had been suspending it in the air, causing it to flow elegantly down her shoulders. She smiled faintly down at Medusa. “I certainly did not expect it to be from you.”

Medusa flicked her tail and gathered herself up to her full size, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to measure up to Leto’s height. “I have a problem.” She said, then turned to the baby lying a few feet away and picked it up. “This.”

  “Oh my,” Leto said, peering down at the child. She delicately scooped it up when Medusa held it out to her. “A strange situation you’ve gotten yourself into, indeed.”

  “It’s not mine,” Medusa said. “A woman washed ashore. She’s--she’s dead now, but she had a child with her. That child. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “She.”

  “What?”

Leto looked up from having unraveled the baby’s blankets and smiled softly at Medusa. “It’s a girl.”

It took everything in Medusa to keep her tail from wagging like a damn hound. A girl! She was so happy it was a girl! She didn’t think she could handle a male.

Wait-- what was she saying? She couldn’t handle either male or female. She couldn’t keep such a thing!

Leto pushed aside one of the overlapping covers of fabric on her robes and held the baby to her breast. She gave a soft laugh when the infant seemed to latch onto the nipple instantly and began to suckle greedily.

  “What a hungry little beast you have here, Medusa,” She said.

  “I already said she’s not mine.”

Leto furrowed her eyebrows at her. “You aren’t going to keep her?”

Medusa actually laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I would not joke in the name of a child, Medusa.” Leto said firmly. Medusa wouldn’t lie that she was slightly intimidated by how hard her voice had become.

  “No, I’m not going to keep her, Leto.”

  “But you want to?”

  “I do not! Why would I ever want to raise such a fiend?”

  “Because you’re lonely.”

Medusa was taken aback. She coiled her tail in close around her, glaring at the dirt as if it had wronged her for bringing the child to her shore and making her feel all these stupid, conflicting emotions.

  “I am not.” She growled.

  “You’re getting defensive,” Leto pointed out.

  “Because you’re bothering me!” Medusa blustered, flaring her wings up. She turned away sharply, whacking Leto’s ankle with her tail. “Go. Take the creature with you. I don’t want to see it.”

All was quiet for a moment, and Medusa actually got the sick sensation that Leto had listened to her, but then she heard the crunching of grass beneath bare feet and saw Leto circle around to be in front of her. The Titan kneeled on her knees before her, still holding the baby to her breast. Medusa couldn’t help but glance at it several times in what she could only describe as longing.

  “Medusa, how long has it been since you’ve interacted with another person?” Leto asked. “Not counting your sisters, of course.”

Medusa refused to look at her. “Why does it matter? I can’t keep--”

  “How long,” Leto repeated with the same firm voice from before, “has it been?”

  “I don’t know.” Medusa answered through her teeth. “Forever? It’s always been my sisters, Mother, and Father. No one else.” She clenched her claws until they drove into the tender green scales on her palms. “There can be--no one else.”

Leto frowned. “And why is that?”

  “You know why.” Medusa said bitterly. “Don’t play dumb, Leto. I know the Titans are smarter than that. It doesn’t take Athena to know why I can’t be around people.”

  “I’m afraid I do understand why.”

  “So why are you even asking me this?” Medusa looked up at her, yellow eyes stinging with unbidden tears. If she had known the meeting with the Titan would be the equivalent to physical and psychological torture, she wouldn’t have even bothered in the first place.

  “Because I wanted to prove my point.” Leto said calmly. “And I was right.”

  “How?”

  “You want someone.” Leto said as if it were perfectly obvious to everyone in the entire pantheon of gods. “You’re very lonely, Medusa. It doesn’t take Athena to figure that out, either.”

  “I can’t.” Medusa whispered hoarsely.

  “You can.”

  “I can’t!” Medusa flared her wings at Leto and brandished her claws, flashing her teeth in the sun right as it began to fall from the sky, her snakes a chorus of hisses and snaps. But Leto was unfazed by her outburst.

  “I will help you.” The Titan said patiently. She smiled down at the suckling baby in her arms. “After all, I don’t expect you to be able to feed her. And she still needs a name, you know. Did the mother tell you one?”

Medusa decided to ignore Leto. Perhaps that would finally end the wrenching anguish she was feeling.

  “I like Aretha.” Leto went on, pleasantly not taking the hint Medusa was trying to give to her.

Medusa scoffed. “Aretha? Really?”

  “I thought you didn’t care about the child.” Leto said, feigning her surprise. Medusa really wished she wouldn’t grin at her like she was.

  “Nemesis is going to come curse you into the body of a cow or something if you keep exuding your hubris onto me.” Medusa said.

  “Are you all full, Aretha?” Leto said to the baby, once again ignoring Medusa. She brushed the little girl’s face with a finger. “What pretty eyes you have.”

  “Stop that.”

  “You could strike an entire army dead with those eyes.” Leto continued. She smiled down at Medusa. “Just like your mother.”

Silence.

Medusa’s throat ached with pent up sobs. “Her mother is dead.” She growled.

  “You’re her mother now.”

  “I am not!”

Medusa whipped her head away quickly so Leto wouldn’t see the tears that came slipping free without her consent. She wiped them away harshly, accidentally cutting herself with her claws in the process, but she could hardly care. It could not measure up to the pain she was feeling from this awful interaction.

  “I never should have called upon you,” She hissed.

  “But you did.” Leto said, unfazed by the insult. “And now I am here and I am going to help you with this baby, Medusa. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

There was silence once again.

  “I’m a monster, not a mother.” Medusa said, her voice wavering treacherously.

  “If that were the case, then why is the baby still alive?”

  “What?”

  “If you truly were a monster, then you would have killed the baby on the spot. And not just by turning her to stone, you would have gutted her alive with your claws, ripped her tiny little head off, devoured her insides. That is what monsters do.” Leto’s stare seemed to pin Medusa to the ground. “And you, Medusa, are not a monster.”

Medusa swallowed thickly, trying to bury the emotions welling up inside of her like a volcano.

  “What if I’m not the mother she needs?” She whispered. She felt like she was drowning. “I don’t think I can do what is needed of me.”

  “Yes, you can. And you will. You’ve been so good with all of this so far. The only thing you can do is your best.”

  “And if that isn’t enough?”

Leto looked into her eyes, her own so soft and caring, so patient even in the face of Medusa’s pessimistic attitude. “Then you’ll learn.”

Leto extended a hand and thumbed away a few fresh tears running down Medusa’s cheek. She smiled warmly at her.

  “You’ll learn,” The Titan said again, this time softer.

Neither of them said anything after that for a long few minutes. Not until the baby began to coo softly, which made both of their gazes shift down to her. Leto pulled her hand away from Medusa’s face to brush the infant’s.

  “Theodora.”

  “What?” Leto looked back at Medusa.

  “That’s going to be her name.” Medusa said. “Theodora. Teddi for short. Not Aretha.”

Leto smiled. “I knew you would come around.” She said. “Would you like to hold her?”

Medusa internally cursed herself for nodding so eagerly. However, as she extended her hands out to take the baby from Leto, she jerked back sharply, as if she had touched fire.

  “I can’t look at her,” Medusa said. “I can’t look at my…”

Leto frowned, then looked down at the wriggling infant in her arms. A soft golden glow lit up in her eyes, and the baby’s did the same, causing her to coo at the sensation of godly powers now streaming through her veins. Leto then turned and gently pushed the little girl into Medusa’s arms.

  “Leto, didn’t you hear me--”

  “Look, Medusa.” Leto said. “Trust me. It will be okay.”

Medusa stared up at the Titan, then slowly brought her gaze down to the baby.

For the first time in her entire life, the flesh of a mortal did not harden to stone beneath her claws, and she was able to see the beautiful mossy green eyes her new daughter bore.

#medusa’s child #medusa #theodora #leto #greek myth #greek mythology #greek myth retellings #greek stories #greek writing #greek gods #gods and goddesses #my wriring

[bicount-de-lettenhove]

Escaping is Overrated - Part 2

Life on the Continent sucks balls if you're not a Mighty Witcher, and Jaskier learns the hard way just how inhospitable it can be when he finds himself on the run from Nilfgaard. ----- ~A continuation of Part 1~

okay so I'm a big fan of stories where there isn't necessarily a big bad antagonist, but where a character (say, a humble bard) instead ends up suffering because of shitty circumstances. If you are also a fan, please read on for a story which is essentially a list of shittier and shittier circumstances befalling our humble bard. There will eventually be a happy ending! CWs: canon-typical violence, non-graphic gore

Even to Jaskier’s exhausted mind the woods are beautiful. Deep, solid darkness settles under the trees to either side of the path and the air is still and quiet, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the dense foliage and the thick covering of pine needles on the floor. He shambles along the path, straining his hearing for any sounds of pursuit, but as the shade of the forest begins to deepen into dusk he realises with a thrill of excitement that no-one seems to be coming after him. He scans the woods around him, looking for an easy path into the relative safety of the dense trees, and spots a narrow line in which the foliage is flattened - an animal’s path, probably frequented by foxes or badgers. He follows the path, looking back often to take note of landmarks which would guide him back to the main trail, and internally congratulating himself on his foresight for doing that. Eventually he comes to a space in the dense trees, barely large enough to warrant being called a clearing, where a huge fallen fir has rendered the ground inhospitable to other trees. He drops his pack and rests his lute carefully against the trunk of the tree, before collapsing down against it himself with much less care. A wave of exhaustion washes over him and he suddenly realises how ravenously hungry heis. He reaches for his pack and pulls it towards him gingerly, unwilling to close his injured hands around the fabric, then fumbles with the button for several minutes, swearing colourfully. Finally he settles the horrible, mean little button between his index and middle finger, the pack between his knees, and pulls sharply. The button comes free and the pack drops to the floor.

‘Finally, you tiny bastard.’ He mutters, and reaches down between his knees to open the pouch of his pack. To his relief, it doesn’t look like his captors have touched his belongings, meagre as they are. He takes stock, using both useless hands to unpack his things onto the forest floor. He has a waterskin (half full), a hunk of bread (very stale), some strips of jerky (not worth eating at the best of times in Jaskier’s opinion), a tiny pot of jam (oh yes), a miniature bottle of vodka (oh yes), some bandages, a purse with a few coins, a spare shirt now stained with ink (dammit!), his songbook, the offending pot of ink and several bent quills. First, he cups the hunk of bread in his hand, taking greedy bites, and washing it down with gulps of water which ease the residual aching in his throat from the smoke. Opening the jam is a struggle but his determination wins out and soon he is knuckles-deep in the sticky goop and moaning obscenely as he sucks it off three fingers at once. Normally he wouldn’t eat the whole pot in one go, but dammit he deserves it right now.

He has carefully saved the vodka and now he reaches for that and the bandages. He sighs deeply, remembering all the times he had done this for Geralt. The pain clearly visible to Jaskier after years of practice reading the witcher’s minimal facial expressions; the slight clench of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils as he let out a carefully controlled breath; his unwillingness to be vulnerable, even around Jaskier, even after 20 years. Unbidden, pathetic tears cloud Jaskier’s vision. This is why he avoids thinking about Geralt. Over their time travelling together he has fallen utterly and pathetically in love with the witcher, and while he never dares to dream of his feelings being reciprocated, he always assumed that Geralt appreciated his help when he could give it. That he was more than just an irritation, even if his company was somewhat grating. But Geralt has made it all-too-clear that he isn’t in need of help, or company, or a bard.

Now wallowing in self-pity, Jaskier thinks back to that shitty day on the mountain. He’d turned away from Geralt and stumbled down the path, shocked by the witcher’s snarled words, fighting back humiliating tears. But by the time he’d retraced their steps to the clearing where Roach was waiting, he had steadied himself, regained control of his emotions. Geralt had been angry, crushed by what had happened with Yennefer, and the witcher had never been good at dealing with difficult emotions. He’d lashed out, and Jaskier had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So Jaskier had decided to wait for his friend. He’d waited the rest of the day, back against a tree and working on his latest composition. He’d waited the evening, fiddling nervously, starting to doubt himself. When it got dark he lit a fire for warmth, then he’d waited the night, huddled close to the flames but unwilling to move too far away from Roach in case Geralt returned and didn’t see him. Then dawn had broken and his eyes had been heavy, but he’d waited, shivering once the fire had died down and before the sun brought warmth to the mountains. But that day, as the sun had risen higher and higher into the sky, Jaskier’s heart had slowly sunk. Geralt wasn’t coming. He really had wanted to be rid of Jaskier. He really had meant what he said. Maybe he was watching right now - Jaskier had thought bitterly - concealed in the foliage and waiting for the idiot bard - the shit shoveling, irritating, useless bard who has hounded him for 20 years - to leave so that he could collect his horse and return to the path. With that realisation, Jaskier had got slowly to his feet, picked up his things, kicked apart the remains of his fire and turned, eyes once again full of unshed tears, to make his way down the mountain.

The dragon hunt was almost a year ago now, and since then the whole continent has gone - in Jaskier's opinion - absolutely tits-up. The Nilfgaardian army swarmed up from the South, spreading terror and destruction. At times it had felt to Jaskier as though everyone on the continent was heading North, trying desperately to escape the unstoppable wave of Nilfgaardian violence. Every inn was full of refugees and Jaskier had seen countless vagabond children wandering the streets, disfigured by grotesque scars. Villages were running out of food and ale and turning displaced families away. Disease was sweeping through towns and famine through the countryside. Rumours spread that Cintra had fallen. Jaskier had been travelling North too, helping people with food and medicine when he could afford it, playing songs and telling stories to entertain the children when he couldn’t.

About a week ago, he had been in a nameless village, standing on a rickety table as a makeshift stage and leading a packed tavern in a relentlessly fast, drunken version of fishmonger’s daughter. The tavern had been hot and damp and thick with the smell of sodden, unwashed woolen clothes. The skinny children whirled each other in breathless circles and the adults - who had long since moved from ale onto moonshine and other spirits - sang and stomped with a kind of frantic desperation, clinging to the shred of familiarity that his songs provided. Jaskier had bowed and accepted a few meagre offerings of coin, turned down others. Sometimes kind people were prepared to pay more than they could afford, and he had learned how to recognise those people from his years travelling with Geralt. There had been no room at the tavern for him, each single bedroom occupied by a full family, so Jaskier had left by the back door, intending to set up camp just beyond the village boundaries and very much not thinking of how nice it would be to sleep inside for once. As he had stepped out of the back door he’d been stopped by a thick hand on his upper arm which pulled him out of the wedge of light cast by the open door, and then a thick forearm had been pressed against his neck, pinning him against the tavern wall. He had spluttered at the pressure, hands coming up to try and ease the weight against his throat, eyes darting, panicked, between his attacker and the two men standing in the shadows behind him.

‘Please,’ he’d croaked out. ‘Here, just take my coin.’ He’d tried to offer them his pack, slung over his shoulder, but his attacker had just slammed Jaskier's head back against the wall hard enough that his vision had swum.

‘We’ll take exactly what we want, bard.’ He’d spat the word bard like it was poison. His breath had been hot and stinking in Jaskier’s face. He’d smiled, showing blackened, rotting teeth, and tightened the pressure on his neck, watching with obscene pleasure as the bard’s eyes had widened in panic and his fingers had scrabbled uselessly against the hairy flesh of his arm. Thankfully, after a few moments he’d let up, Jaskier coughing and retching as he tried to regain his breath.

‘What do you -’ his voice had been quiet and rasping, cut off by a cry of pain and a groan as his attacker had driven his knee into Jaskier’s groin and he’d folded forward to kneel, bent, in the mud. Then the man had hit him again, knee connecting with his face and Jaskier had felt hot blood spray from his nose. The man had stepped back and one of the others stalked forward, holding a broad, flat club in one beefy hand, and Jaskier just had time to open his mouth in a surprised ‘wait’ before he’d swung it down and everything had gone black. When he’d woken, in that cell, he’d found out exactly what they wanted. His kidnappers were thugs that had been bought out by Nilfgaard to do their dirty work. In this case, finding the location of one silver-haired witcher and one very important child-surprise. Of course Jaskier hadn’t told them. He wasn’t lying when he insisted - between screams - that he didn’t know where Geralt was. And he would never tell them what he did know - about Kaer Morhen, about the safehouses and healers Geralt favoured, about his travelling habits and his companions and confidants around the continent. Not just for Geralt, but also for Cirilla, because by the Gods that girl deserved none of this. And so, for once in his life, Jaskier had kept his mouth shut.

-------

oh it only gets worse I am being very mean and very enjoying it

Thanks so much for reading! 🧡🧡 Chapter 3 is on the way, but sometimes doing a phd gets in the way (how dare), so fingers crossed it won't be too long!

Also another note: I haven't written the ending of this fic yet, apart from Geralt Helps And Is Sorry TM. If anyone has any suggestions of favourite Geralt-saves-Jaskier tropes please drop me a reply because I have been stuck at the same point for far too long now 🧡

#jaskier #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #geralt #is there in spirit #the witcher #TW: gore #TW: violence #my fic #original fic #original fanfic #fanfic in progress

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Medusa’s Child (part one)

eyyyy, here’s the first part of Medusa being a mom!! sorry if it’s not very accurate to the myths, i am trying my best. feedback and comments are greatly appreciated! i hope you all enjoy!

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

She was first alerted of a presence by an uneven splashing against the nearby shore.

It was the early evening, and the sun was at its best point in the sky, raining down on Sarpedon in just the right way to make her scales light with painless flames. She stretched out on her branch, pressing her bare belly up to the warm rays. Her tail flicked lazily while her mane of snakes hissed and tugged in the direction of the noises. She swatted a clawed hand at them.

  “Let him come,” Medusa murmured in a husky, languid voice, not bothering to open her eyes. “You know he won’t stand a chance anyway.” She ran her black talons down her exposed breasts and stomach, chuckling deeply. “He may as well die with the image of a beautiful woman in his mind. We can give him that, at least.”

There were mixed reactions from her snakes, some spats of disapproval, some hisses of agreement, but they all coiled back down into quietness. Or, as quiet as a head full of serpents could be.

Compared to other creatures across the land, Medusa had a remarkably good childhood if she did say so herself. Her parents were the ferocious Ceto and Phorcys, ancient sea gods that kept the ocean seething with their monstrous children. 

Phorcys was a grey-haired, fish-tailed mountain of a man, with rough red, spiky crustacean skin and huge crab claws that were strong enough to snap off the head of any mortal man that approached his territory. He was faster than any sea creature and stronger than any current in the existing waters. He could create a tsunami big enough to drown Greece with one splash of his mighty tail.

Ceto was quite possibly more terrifying than her father, however. She was a fair maiden with shiny, unblemished skin she never covered up and long, wavy black hair that floated like Kraken tentacles in the water around her. Her eyes were green and sharp enough to cut through obsidian, and her voice was booming enough to crack the earth and drain the entire ocean. She was as venomous as her animal creations, but she taught Medusa discipline and respect at a very young age.

Together, the two of them brought forth a myriad of devilish children. Ekhidna, a dangerous she-dragon with the head and breasts of a beautiful woman and the body of a coiling serpent; Scylla, a giant crab that ate sailors; Ladon, a dragon with one hundred head; the Graiai, three grey hags that shared one tooth and one eye; and the Gorgons, a trio of sisters with the bodies of serpents and hair made of living, venomous snakes.

Medusa was a part of the final group. 

Medusa and her two sisters were born on a dark day, where the sky seethed with storm and the sea seemed to wrath against its gods. Through crashing waves and spitting sea foam, Ceto dragged her soaked, swollen body from the hissing water and into a cave where it was dry. The tide tried to catch her, nipping at her heels like desperate piranhas, but could not chase her all the way up the sand.

Within the cave, the pelting rain and howling gales were muffled by thick stone. Droplets of water dripped from stalactites that hung from the ceiling like dozens of monster fangs. Small tidepools were laid across the ground like traps, seemingly existing to trip Ceto and make her crash down onto her thick belly. But she managed to avoid them, hissing strings of curses to the starfish and crabs and tiny fish that thrived within the wet sinkholes before collapsing to the ground, powerful cramps rippling through her body.

There, Ceto gave birth in the eye of a raging hurricane, her monstrous children writhing out of her womb, clawing and scratching for the world outside of her body.

Stheno was first, born thrashing and hissing and brimming with rage the moment she came out. She was a thin little thing, but her blood red tail whipped around with enough power to crumble mountains. Her red mane of snakes sprung to life instantly, fangs flashing, hissing so loud they challenged the whirlwind outside the cave. The scales upon her head and face made it look like she was permanently stained in mortal blood, and the boar tusks curling out from her mouth looked wickedly sharp. Mere moments after being born, she had lunged at a tidepool and ripped apart a small crab with bronze claws, devouring it in just a few snaps of her powerful jaws.

Euryale came next, sliding out in a slick of fluids and screaming so loud she threatened to bring the whole cave down on top of them. Her white and yellow tail lashed as she cried, sending clumps of wet sand flinging through the air. The mane of snakes upon her skull, which had red snouts that looked like they had been dipped in blood, wailed with her, strange, raspy sounds that vibrated through the air like static electricity. There were small horn nubs protruding from her forehead, which had explained the pain when she was coming out. Stheno tackled her, whacking their tails together, and began wrestling with her.

Finally, out came Medusa, green scales shiny and new-looking. The first thing she remembered was seeing her eldest sister chewing on her second eldest sister’s tail. She had blinked her golden yellow eyes at them, flicking her own emerald green tail like she was expecting something to be attached to it. And then, she was lifted up and saw a beautiful woman gazing down at her. Her mane of snakes snapped at the long black hair cascading down onto her belly.

  “What peculiar little beast you all are,” She remembered her mother rumbling. Ceto scooped up Stheno and Euryale and held all three sisters in front of her. “And what slayers you will all be, indeed.”

And she was right.

Medusa’s childhood passed by in a blur of mortal blood and seawater. Her mother taught her how to strike fear into mortal men. Her father taught her how to swim and fly when all of their wings eventually grew in. And her sisters taught her to hide her prey or else it would get stolen.

She was raised in the darkest reaches of the ocean depths, where granite tunnels formed interlocking caves and caverns below the rolling waves. While most children grew up raising family goats and playing with dolls made of straw, Medusa and her sisters grew up taming sea monsters and playing hide-and-seek venomous lionfish. They created crags of coral along the seafloor with their eyes alone and swept through the ocean currents on scaled wings. When they would go up to the surface, they watched the mortals in their wooden vessels, laughing at the way they attempted to overpower the waves that rocked them mercilessly.

That was when they discovered their deadly eye power.

Medusa was a monstrous teenager, floating along the ocean’s surface, when Stheno presented the idea to her.

  “Swim into their nets and pretend to be dead,” Her older sister had said. Sunlight glinted off her blood red scales. When she smiled, her teeth were like a shark’s. “When they pull you up, give them a scare.”

Medusa gave a laugh. The only thing better than observing a mortal’s stupidity was causing the mortal’s stupidity by interacting with them. Of course, she agreed.

She swam into one of the large nets drifting beneath the boat, startling off a cloud of slippery grey-blue fish. She let herself get tangled up in its loops, tugging on the ropes enough to alert the sailors. After a few moments, the net began to rise, and she faintly heard the giggling of her sister’s vibrating through the water.

Cool sea air hit her bare skin; a series of gasps exploded throughout the vessel. The rough feeling of wood chafed against the scales on her exposed back as the net was dropped into the boat. She struggled to keep in the giggles and play dead as loud murmurs whisked around her. 

The men were wondering what she was, asking themselves how they managed to wrangle up a thing. One of them poked her tail with something pointy and she almost flinched, but managed to tighten her muscles and stay still.

And then, there was a hand grabbing her breast.

The man above her purred out something about her being beautiful and warm and the others should “give it a try.” 

Her eyes snapped open wide. She ogled the man above her in shock and fear and disgust; he was a scruffy and flabby creature with hungry eyes and crooked yellow teeth. His hand remained on her breast as they locked gazes, and then his face did something strange.

It twitched. And his eyes went weirdly blank. And he sucked in a harsh breath.

The man’s entire body jerked like his soul was trying to claw its way out of his back. His brown eyes bulge and roll wildly in their skull, and Medusa could see grey spreading rapidly over the eye balls.

Stone began to march across the man’s flesh like a swarm of fire ants. He tried to scratch it off, but his nails bounced right off. His movements quickly began to stiffen as whatever came over him took hold.

His chest froze solid first, then his hands and feet, his ears, his arms and legs, all the way to his throat. His eyes were no longer brown, rather blank grey. His greasy blonde hair did not sway in the cool breeze. His mouth was open, teeth blunted by rock, and twisted in an agonized expression. One hand was extended outward to his crewmates in a final gesture of desperation.

The man had been turned to stone.

The other mortals on the boat began to frenzy. Some ran away in fear, others brandished their weapons, but they, too, met the same ill fate of their crewmate. One stare and they hardened into a statue against their will.

Stheno and Euryale had been alerted by the noise and they flew up to the ship. Both of them looked shocked at what was going on.

  “What is happening?” Euryale asked. 

  “I-- I don’t know.” Medusa replied, slowly sitting up. She was absurdly confused at what was going on. “I turned them to stone.”

  “How?” Stheno demanded.

  “I looked at them.”

  “Hm.” Stheno lashed out at a fleeing young man and flared her giant red wings open, essentially trapping him. Medusa heard a short scream, and then silence. When her sister pulled back, the man was frozen in an encasing of stone.

The discovery of their power sparked great fear across the land, but amazement inside Medusa and her sisters. Stheno used it the most, killing more men than both Medusa and Euryale combined. She kept her favorite statues in her lair as trophies, adorning them with her jewels and other treasures. 

Euryale rarely ever killed, not because she didn’t like it, but because she never went out of her way to go around mortals. She rather watch them from afar, observing their strange hive mind mentality. 

Medusa was a mix between the two. Sometimes she would simply stay away, other times she liked to see how dumb mortal men were when she came across them.

When they eventually came of age, the three sisters ventured off from the darkness of their homeland sea. Medusa went to an island called Sarpedon, claiming it as her own domain. Mortal men saw it as an arena, however, and often sailed to her home to challenge her. It wasn’t long before her island was filled with the statues of foolish men, decorating her gardens with the trophies of her success.

And another was about to be added to the collection.

There were crashes through her jungle; the stupid man was romping through her home and disturbing her nap!

Sighing, Medusa uncoiled her elegantly long body from the tree branch and carefully climbed down the trunk. Her emerald green scales shimmered in the sunlight filtering down from the canopy of leaves up above, dewdrops from the condensation of her garden sliding like melted diamonds down her tail. She slithered through the weeds, passing by ruined pillars and petrified statues, all of which were swathed with moss and vines. She admired them as she went by, as she always did, as she always would. It was quite lonely on her island, but she rather be alone than have the company of a man.

Emerging from the lush underbrush, Medusa set her eyes on a fleeting boat in the crystal clear water. Strange, she thought. There was still a living person on the vessel. Did they think against their decision to challenge her? No, there were footsteps in the sand… Someone was here.

Medusa flicked her pointy ears and slithered out onto the beach. A bright red crab saw her coming and darted into the splashing waves to hide. A mere crustacean was the least of her concern right now, though. She could eat later.

There was blood in the sand. Small, red droplets clumping the white grains together. A trail led across the bay in spatters that looked like the man had been in a hurry, disappearing into the thriving overgrowth of Sarpedon.

Medusa turned and followed the trail. The man seemed rather smart; there were many hiding spots in the jungle, but she knew this island like the back of her hand. He would not stand a chance.

A spray of bright yellow birds exploded from the trees when she came slithering by. Long-limbed creatures of fur leapt from branch-to-branch, poised and waiting to flee while they watched her. The monkeys always liked to test her. Perhaps that was what made them so delicious. The looks on their faces when she managed to snatch one and scarf them down was priceless.

There was rustling to her left. Medusa pricked one of her pointed ears while her mane of venomous snakes hissed in alertness. She smacked the nose of one of them to quiet them down and then went after her prey.

  “Hello?” She called out in a purr. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

There was no reply, though there had been before. That particular man had really thought he could swoon her. How could anyone fall for the grating voice of a male?

The rustling sounded again. Medusa whipped around, smacking a tree with her tail and sending a macaw flying off with an alarmed screech. 

  “You are a quick little rabbit, aren’t you?” She chuckled. Fine then. She’ll play with her prey before killing him.

Fleeting footsteps squelched through moist jungle mud. He was quick, but she was quicker. Legs were so hindering, while her tail could get her around with graceful ease. It also made a perfect entrapment tool. Nothing was better than constricting her victim and getting to look at them face-to-face while their life drained away from them.

A squeal caught Medusa’s attention. A smirk came to her lips, fangs flashing in the sun. Finally.

Peering through the leaves, Medusa could partially see the body of the man on the ground, sprawled between two trees. His right ankle was caught in some gnarled roots, trapping him.

It was perfect.

Medusa sprang out of underbrush, claws raised and brandished, fangs bared, wings flared out to their full size. Her snakes swelled up and hissed loudly, mouths loaded with potent venom. Her bright yellow eyes were flashing, ready to strike this man into stone, and--

And she froze.

This wasn’t a man.

It was a child.

#medusa’s child #my writing #greek myth #greek mythology #greek myth retellings #greek #greek gods #medusa #gorgon #gorgon sisters #theodora the vengeful

[ravens-rambling]

A Dragon Meets a Knight

A/N: Hhhheeyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! Long time no see, huh????? Its been a long time since i’ve written like anything!! But i really want to start writing again ssoooooo I’m gonna be doing two prompts list this month to the best of my ability! Note tho, that my writing isn’t gonna be the best for a while so uuhhh sorry about that!!! 

Soulmate September! by @tsshipmonth2020

aanndddd

100 (G/T) prompts!!! I’m definitely not gonna do all of the 100 prompts on here, but i’m curious to see how far i’ll go! 

summary: A grand dragon appeared above Roman’s kingdom one late night, and Roman takes it upon himself to go and vanquish the mighty dragon. But once he gets there..the story is a lot different then he thought it was going to be.

WC: 1,932

ships: Romantic Roceit

warnings: Mentions of babies being orphaned, mentions of killing, mentions of blood

Tag List: @punsterterry @stormcrawler75 @frostedlover @mycatshuman @mutechild @panicattheeverywhere15 @overlord-winter @analogical-mess @saddestlittlebabe

~

Roman was up for the task, he was ready to finally slay this dragon. For years, nearly half of his life, there have been rumors that there was a dragon living somewhere in the high mountains behind their small village. Well, those rumors were proven to be true. Just last night the entire village was sent into a panic when the obvious looking figure in the sky was very much a giant dragon. It flew a certain direction and seemed to completely ignore everyone from down below it. And he saw it for himself as well so he knew it wasn't some fluke the next day when everyone started talking about it, he was outside talking with a guard when it had flown above them. He couldn't get a proper look at the creature since it was dark outside, the only indication that it was there at all was the lights from the torch shining and reflecting off its scales. And the fact that the sky turned pitch black dark with no stars to illuminate it.

After last night he made an announcement confirming such a creature does in fact exist. But not to worry as he is going to slay it. There was a shocked gasp and worried looks shot up to him. And he tried his best to explain that he has looked to his family’s books on how to kill such a creature. And, considering that this has been the first time they've seen a dragon in over twenty years shows that they are dying out. He's been hearing talk that the dragon population is dwindling these past few years. Why no one is quite sure. He is certain it's the cause of all the hunting. But in any case, he can guarantee that the beasts head will be brought back to this village in a twenty-four hours period. He can promise that.

Something Roman didn't tell them, however, was that his family's books didn't quite have...the information to kill a dragon. All it mainly showed was information about the general dragons, but from the bits and pieces he could see from the dragon that visited last night is that...that dragon didn't look anything like the dragons that were in the books. So he...didn't know what to do. But he was confident that he would figure it out. Surely it can't be that hard? Just stab it in the neck or belly like how most monsters and animals are, right? Their belly and neck are the weakest points on any sort of monster or animal. Seems to be simple enough.

And so, he left on his horse that morning up to the mountain top where the beast was last seen traveling. Alone. Yes, he was nervous about traveling up there alone. But he couldn't bring his guards in fear of them seeing how clueless he is in defeating the dragon once he gets to the top! He can't spoil his perfect image by being such a fool! So no...he's going up there alone. And if he doesn't come back well… maybe Remus can become king. He probably won't be the best king but...it's better than nothing…

It took him two days and a half just to get up the mountain and onto the very top of it. It was a long way up with many boulders and snow. Which resulted in a lot of avalanches which wasn't very good. But he's here now. Finally.

He tied the horse far away from the very tall and dark cave that stood on the top of this mountain. Then he took a deep breath in and drew his sword. He's got this. It can't be that hard, right? Just throw his sword right at the dragon's neck and it's as simple as that. Right? Yeah… yeah, stop being such a weakling, Roman. You're the king! Everyone is looking up to you…

But he gulped once he took a step inside the cave. Oh, dear… it's so incredibly dark down here. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face. Good thing he brought a torch. He quickly lit it with his sword and some twigs close to the cave. And once it was lit he stared the darkness down. And he walked inside.

Even with the torch it still was so dark. And it felt like a different kind of darkness than just the normal nighttime darkness. No, this was… it reminded him of goo. It reminds him of that sticky black goo that Remus would throw at the general's faces when he was younger. And still does whenever some generals from other kingdoms come to visit. That's what it reminds him of. And it's...horrible… everywhere he looked there was that sticky blackness, and it felt like it was engulfing him. That mixed between the cobwebs and the small pits here and there. It was an awful experience. Won't come here again, that's for sure.

He continued walking until...he made it to a large opening followed by a larger cavern with a ceiling opening from up above. Roman paused and gasped at the sight, it's... gorgeous… There is a small creak in the far corner, making tiny little sounds of trickling water filling the empty void. In the ceiling, there were sharp rocks pointing down along with some….crystals… those are crystals… And it's gorgeous… He heard a loud growl coming from far ahead and he froze. His eyes looked down only to take a step back at what he saw.

The dragon. It was a brilliant golden color that sparkled like actual gold in the light shining from the diamonds and the fire burning in the far end of the cave. The scales on this massive dragon were a golden color, but below that was its skin that was a solid black color. It's long and dagger-like wings flapped out and stretched towards the ceiling. And smoke came billowing out from its nostrils.

"What are you doing here, human? Have you come with a death wish? Or do you think you're stupid enough to kill me?" It's bellowing voice came from deep in its throat, even though its mouth wasn't moving.

Roman stood frozen, completely in awe with what he's seeing before him. Oh… fuck… He's fucked. he's so dead.

"I-I… I...have come with the wish to kill you, foul demon! Prepare to die!" Was he moving his legs? Did he just say that? Yes to both those questions... apparently.

He found himself charging at the dragon with his torch now abandoned and he had drawn his shield up. With a roar of fury, the dragon flapped its wings once then charged directly at the human too. It's massive ram-like horn and its fangs were the size of huge daggers. It could easily tear his flesh open. But still, he charged.

His sword clattered against its massive horns, and he could feel the smoke billowing from its mouth a moment before he jumped aside as a massive breath of fire emerged and attacked where he was last standing. He still held onto the sword, and he managed to untangle it from the horns clutches.

"You will die foul beast!! You will never terrorize my village ever again! This will be the last day you draw breath! And they will mount your horns up above the thrones so everyone will know that I defeated a dragon!"

"Let's see about that." It simply stated and it sped forward again to open its mouth, but this time it drove straight. And suddenly turned to the side. It's massive fangs dug into his side and he screamed out in pain.

His scream was so loud that the rocks surrounding them shook a little bit. He was about to stab the sword through the beasts head when he froze at hearing… wait a moment… is that… Baby dragon calling?

With blood dripping onto the rocks below him he froze and slowly looked over towards the sound. Where that large fire was, where he had thought the beast was just tending to a warm fire this chilly late afternoon, he could see...three little baby dragons of different colors screaming in their little nests and flapping their tiny wings frantically. They were inside of the flames, but yet they didn't seem to be crying out of pain but of fear.

"You...have babies…?"

"Wow, I had no idea I have babies. Thanks for telling me. Yes, human, I have babies. And you aren't going to touch them, not over my dead body!!" The dragon moved forward to block Roman's view from the babies.

But Roman's body was dead stiff. How...could he kill a mother...to leave her babies defenseless and orphaned?! That's not… Sure, dragons are destructive monsters that love to feast on humans and to see villages burnt to the ground. But...even he doesn't have the heart to break apart this family. No matter what this dragon does.

So...he dropped the sword to the ground with a loud thud. "No… I… I can't kill you… not when you have babies… I won't leave babies orphaned… That's… that's wrong…"

"Oh, how very brave of you! Such a noble king! Don't you dare lie to me, you foolish mortal!!!" The dragon screamed then it charged at Roman again, until it froze when Roman didn't move out of the way. Its giant fangs that could easily tear through this king's flesh was inches from Roman's face, one of its fangs was pressed against Roman's shoulder and arm. But still...the king simply stared right at the dragon's eyes and didn't flinch… he didn't whimper. Nothing.

"I said I won't hurt you. I won't kill you. And I'm not lying. I won't ever separate a mother from its babies. And I won't ever kill a mother in front of her babies. Nor would I ever be the cause of some babies becoming orphaned. So no… My only request is that...you don't hurt my village anymore. Don't attack anything… and we'll call this a deal. How that sound?"

The dragon blinked and slowly pulled away from Roman's body. Its mouth closed shut and it stared right at Roman's face. Before it swallowed and slowly nods, "I accept your deal. I was only going past your village to get some extra food for them. Your sheep seem to be the only thing they like. But I'll refrain from stealing your sheep from now on. I'll have to find something else they like."

"Well...that can be rearranged. I've heard that we do have a few extra sheep every year that we don't need. How much do your babies eat? And...what's your name? If you have one...of course?"

"They eat one sheep every few weeks to a month. And my name?" The dragon tilted his head to look at Roman right in the eyes, and just then Roman has finally seen the scarred side of its face. He didn't notice that while they were fighting. It looked like...it was clawed off by something big... "It's Janus, your highness."

"Wait a minute… Janus?!"

Roman looked down at his arm and he pulled back his sleeve. He revealed on his wrist written in delicate golden cursive was the name 'Janus'. And it was glowing. "I'm Roman! Roman Prince!"

The mighty dragon stared at him in shock and he stared at the name too… that's… his name… that's… The dragon looked down to his own scaly wrist and revealed his own soulmate mark. In grand red cursive writing is 'Roman', and that was glowing too.

"We're.. soulmates?!" Both voices shouted in unison.

#tsshipmonth2020 #roman sanders #roman #janus sanders #janus #remus sanders #remus #virgil sanders #virgil #patton sanders #patton #logan sanders #logan #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #romantic roceit #thomas sanders #roceit #my fics #i am so sorry im so rusty at this now hhhhhh

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 9

The Slaying of the Bobbledragon

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Since slaying a serial-killer dragon is a little outside the party's expertise, they're off to Cauterdale to enlist the aid of the Deathseekers' Guild! Having gotten a good night's sleep at a druid village, and not eaten, they're ready to take on, uh...

Well, some sort of very large monster that Zero kindly drew for me.

In the morning, they rather uneventfully get up and get back on the road, thanking the villagers for their hospitality. And the remainder of the trip to Cauterdale is likewise brief and uneventful, right up until the fire.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: the what Benedict I. (GM): The fire.

Yeah, the forest and the road up ahead are ablaze, sort of blocking passage. The dirt road isn't actively on fire, but the trees on both sides are, making it pretty risky to proceed. The team opts to send Oyobi up ahead to scout the situation- and pretty soon she comes back with a report. Apparently, just past the visible fireline, the forest is totally burned down- just charred stumps as far as she could see, right up to the city walls. The fire itself is just, like, 10 meters wide or so, so it's totally something they could just dash through.

It takes some Animal Handling checks to coax the giraffes through, and the ones that balk get them and their riders a little bit of chip damage from heat and smoke inhalation, but the party is pretty much able to push through to the blasted wasteland of charred tree stumps surrounding Cauterdale.

They notice a few people in strange armor in the distance, doing something near the fire- from the seemingly controlled nature of this burn and the name of the town, they conclude that those are fire squads doing this deliberately, and don't get involved. It's a fine conclusion, and the party begins walking the remaining mile to the city.

As they approach, they notice... a little ways off from the main gates, something is attacking the city walls. Guards atop the walls are manning some sort of huge harpoon guns, and they seem to have already slain several of the... whatever these things are. The remaining one, though, seems larger and more resilient than the others, continuing its assault despite the several harpoons already lodged in its flesh.

What they see is a huge reptilian monster. It's probably not a dragon- no wings, and it doesn't appear to be using a breath weapon- but it's the size of a dragon, with tiny arms, headbutting the metal walls of the town repeatedly.

Orluthe makes his Nature roll to recognize this thing- he's heard of them before. They're called "bobbledragons"- some sort of deformed mutant offshoot of true dragons, incapable of speech or flight or magic but still possessed of monstrous strength and durability.

Luckily, the bobbledragon doesn't seem to be in between them and the main gate- the fight is far enough away that they could potentially just walk up and head into town, assuming they'll open the gates during a situation like this. Hell, they don't even need to open the gates- if the guards just drop a rope, they should be able to just climb over. That seems like a decent plan, so Saelhen and Looseleaf begin working together to draft a use of the Message spell to ask the guards to help them inside.

Then they notice that I've been moving Oyobi's token on the map in the direction of the fight.

Oyobi, blinded by bloodlust and/or extra-credit-in-Severe-Zoology-lust, is determined to help fell the bobbledragon. Their attempts at persuasion fail, and Oyobi, undeterred, continues to charge the giant fucking T-rex that is making huge dents in the walls of a city.

As Oyobi runs for it, and as the party follows behind in hopes of stopping her from making a terrible mistake, the bobbledragon jumps and seizes one of the guards on the wall in its jaws, demonstrating its +10 4d12+7 bite attack by immediately oneshotting its victim.

Looseleaf: oh god we're all going to die. you're using the real t-rex statblock. that thing is challenge eight. it is made for a party of four level eight adventurers, so either we are all going to die here, or the guards are going to show us why they are professional fighters and we are students. Benedict I. (GM): "Shit! It can jump!" "No!" The guards seem upset.

Not promising.

Looseleaf: This thing does sufficient damage to oneshot any of us with a perfectly mediocre hit. Looseleaf right now is kind of thoroughly convinced that Oyobi is actually literally about to die. In that light, Looseleaf is going to message Oyobi again. And she is not going to get any closer. Actually, she's going to back off, put distance between herself and the monster. [Oyobi that thing is going to bite you in half get back here you are going to die.] Benedict I. (GM): Roll Persuasion! DC 20 again. -Looseleaf: 17 / PERSUASION (1)- Oyobi Yamatake: [I'M GONNA LIVE FOREVER!!!]

So... that's a bust, and Oyobi finally reaches the dragon and begins her assault. Miraculously, her flying leap hits, and she digs her sword in... for thirteen damage.

The guards return fire against the bobbledragon, and one of the harpoons catches it in the chest- but it doesn't go down, and the second harpoon- manned by just one guard, after his partner got crunched- misses. Another guard, without a cannon, throws a spear- and gets not only a critical hit, but a max damage critical hit, spearing the thing right in the eye.

...for eleven damage, because these are ordinary CR 1/8 Guards, but still!

Saelhen tries to distract the bobbledragon so Oyobi can run and hide, but... her arrow goes wide, and Oyobi isn't interested in running and hiding anyway. The bobbledragon, targeting whatever did the most damage to it recently with its bite attack, jumps and bites the whole damn harpoon gun out of the guard tower, leaving the guards without heavy weaponry.

And then with its tail, it tries to slap the insect that just stung it in the rear.

...and rolls a 3, meaning Oyobi gracefully backflips over the attack and strikes a dramatic pose.

Looseleaf: God, she did not deserve that dodge. She got so fucking lucky there. Saelhen du Fishercrown: she really didn't Oyobi Yamatake: "When you get to Dragon Hell, tell them Oyobi Yamatake sent you!!"

Looseleaf, in the interest of communicating to Oyobi how much danger she's in, makes use of an upgrade to her Rend Spirit attack she learned while studying Lumiere's notes on pain. With Painread, she can get some feedback back from something whose spirit she disrupts, and figure out exactly how bad a shape it's in. She does so (dealing a cool 16 damage as she does), and learns how huge this thing's remaining hit point pool is, so she can tell Oyobi how unlikely she is to survive long enough to take it down.

...It, uh, it was already pretty hurt when they arrived, and it, um, has nine hit points left. And it's Oyobi's turn.

Oyobi Yamatake: Oyobi dashes forwards, Naruto-runs up to the T-rex's throat, and does a spinning leap that slashes open its jugular. It roars, and the roar swiftly fades off as its breath escapes. Saelhen du Fishercrown: God dammit, Oyobi. Oyobi Yamatake: "YES! YES! B-S-U! B-S-U! B-S-U!" "THAT is how it's DONE!" She is jumping up and down, doing a celebratory dance, the works. "Flawlessed the boss! Hell yeah!"

Yeah, so... I had kind of been planning on her getting oneshot and laid up in the hospital, as a sort of character growth thing and also keeping her out of the way of certain events in town, but, uh... the dice... didn't exactly... share my priorities.

With the bobbledragon slain, and Oyobi doing an extremely obnoxious victory dance, the rest of the party springs into action to stabilize the guard who was used as a chew toy. Thanks to his plate armor, he hasn't lost much blood, but he's got more broken bones than not, and his prognosis wouldn't be good... if it weren't for the healer's kits Looseleaf had the foresight to buy for everyone. Saelhen stabilizes him, and Orluthe calls on his goddess to Lay On Hands to save the guard's life.

Then there's this guy- the captain of the guard, who fought in the battle with a fancy crossbow that shot flaming bolts. He demands to know who the party is, seeming kind of annoyed that they rewarded weakness by saving the guard's life.

Benedict I. (GM): He looks down at your medical kit. "Y'know, all of my men are prepared to fight and die for our home. You really want to take away this man's glory?" The injured guard looks up. "Uh, sir, I- it's fine, actually..." "Feh." Looseleaf: This guy immediately seems like a bad boss. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh, he's ridiculous. Okay, that changes the tenor of this conversation somewhat! "...I apologize, sir," says Saelhen, bowing to the guard on his stretcher, "if I have diminished your victory with my carelessness."

And rather than give this guy any more of the time of day, Saelhen asks the random guard his name. (And then I have to give him one and make him a character, whoops.)

Medd Cutter here is thankful for Saelhen's assistance saving his life, and Saelhen pledges to remember his heroism. The commander feels- by design- somewhat left out of the heroism-remembering, and declares that he is REX SCAR, and Saelhen kind of blows him off. He's not happy, but...

Captain Scar is still the sort of person who is very impressed with anyone who rolls up and kills a bobbledragon just because they felt like it, and despite Saelhen's calculated snub, tries to get buddy-buddy with the group of obviously very powerful people who just arrived. He decides to help them through customs without going through the usual processes, much to the chagrin of...

...Long-Tongue, Cauterdale Customs and Border Inspection Officer of Cauterdale, who's very loquacious and wordy and redundantly repeats what she says in different words to phrase things differently in a somewhat unnecessary fashion for no real reason. Rex bullies his way past her, but Saelhen- as another snub, and just to be... nice? (What's her game...?), hands her the 300-page history of the de la Surplus family as collateral for a deferred border inspection.

Inside the walls, Cauterdale is a very crowded place. It's like 80% slum, choked with buildings constructed of a patchwork of scrap metal and discarded siding, without much wood to speak of. The streets are narrow and bustling, and the general vibe around the place is impatient.

The remaining guards escorting them (Rex went off someplace) inform them, when questioned, that the town indeed burns down the forest around them- since they're near the jungle, horrible dangerous things tend to come out of the trees to attack them, and their harpoon defenses are most effective when they can see their attackers coming from a mile away, with no obstructions. Looseleaf asks if bobbledragon attacks are common.

Benedict I. (GM): Another guard shakes his head. "No, that one was pretty crazy. Usually it's just the giant spiders, or the giant mosquitoes, or the mushroom demons." "We've had a few bobbledragons before, but that was like, four at once." Looseleaf: "Oh gods there's already giant spiders?!" "We're not even at- I thought this was a pine forest still!" Benedict I. (GM): "No, that's usually after it rains," Medd says. Looseleaf: Looseleaf casts Druidcraft. Please tell me it's not going to rain. Benedict I. (GM): Nope! Clear skies for now. "Whoa, cool." Looseleaf:"Thank the gods of sea and sky and weather and everything even tangentially related to weather," she says. "No rain." "I hope it never rains, ever again." Benedict I. (GM): "Haha, better stay away from..." "Wait, where are you headed?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "The rainforest," adds Saelhen, mildly. Looseleaf: "Ttttthunderbrush, and yes I know that place is crawling with spiders NOERU SHUT UP,"

Then Looseleaf asks about what they're there for- the Deathseekers' Guild. Unfortunately, the guards tell them that the Deathseekers... probably still exist, but they're like, a weird secret club of old people who think they're too cool to join the guard. They give them a couple leads- apparently the Temple of Andra keeps tabs on them, and also a guard by the name of Mags was the last to see them as they were recently seen leaving the city.

The team splits up- Looseleaf and Orluthe head for the temple, and Oyobi and Saelhen head for the guardhouse to talk to Mags. (Vayen... is still gone, after vanishing as soon as the bobbledragon fight started.) The latter group does their thing next session, so...

After dropping off their rental giraffes, they head inside to meet...

This guy, working the reception desk. He seems to be made of rock, and when he talks he rumbles.

As Looseleaf explains their dilemma and their need for Deathseekers, this guy takes a keen interest in their plight. He's very "hmmmm, iiiiiinteresting, oh i see, you don't say?" about the whole thing, making a very normal interaction seem as ominous as possible.

He tells her that the Deathseekers, to his knowledge, should be back in the city from their unspecified errand inside two days, and offers to take a message.

Looseleaf: "I don't suppose they're looking for a green dragon, are they?" Benedict I. (GM): This guy's smile keeps getting wider. It's kind of creepy. "Hm? What makes you say that?"

As she explains about the dragon, he offers her and Orluthe a candy from a bowl on the desk. After some hemming and hawing out-of-character because the creepy rock man is offering you suspicious candy, they eventually opt to have some, because really, Looseleaf isn't suspicious of this guy. Hers is lemon-flavored. It's tasty.

Then, as she describes the empty tower with the corpse of the torture wizard in it, this guy's demeanor changes suddenly from "creepy wry amusement" to "genuine concern". He tries to put on a poker face, but him having a poker face when he's until now been all creepy-friendly chewing the scenery... stands out. He gives her a strong assurance that the Deathseekers will handle this problem for her.

Benedict I. (GM): "I... thank you, for this information." Looseleaf: "You're welcome. Please, uh, make sure that the Deathseekers get this information as quickly as possible. The dragon eats a corpse a week and there's only three corpses left in the tower, there's a very real deadline on this." Benedict I. (GM): [rolling 1d20+4] (Insight) 17+4 = 21 Looseleaf: Belatedly, Looseleaf realizes she's made a mistake. Benedict I. (GM): "You say... the dragon eats three corpses a week?" "Only three corpses left in the tower?" Looseleaf: Namely: Looseleaf has no good reason to know the fact that the dragon eats a corpse a week. Since she's never met the dragon. Benedict I. (GM): "Curious information." "How did you come across it?" Looseleaf: "Uh, erm, uh." Shit.

Looseleaf opts to tell the truth about Arnie, to avoid spinning a dangerous web of lies for herself- after all, Arnie's not worth lying for. She does describe him in as sympathetic terms as she can, though, and asks this guy not to harm him if possible- she doesn't want to break her word to Arnie if she can help it.

Benedict I. (GM): He takes a moment to process this. "...Very well." "My people will be the soul of discretion." "I thank you very much for your generous contribution to the Ecumene of Understanding."

Looseleaf notices that something is wrong.

This guy is the receptionist. He's not a bishop or anything. He's not even wearing priestly vestments- just a nice suit. And he's speaking as though he's in a position of power- "my people", he says.

And after considering various possibilities, she tries something. A shot in the dark, but...

And the way Looseleaf plays this, is... "quit acting like you don't know what I'm talking about, c'mon, the jig is up". She takes out the letter she found in Lumiere's tower and shows it off, as proof!

And this guy keeps denying it, and getting increasingly more panicked, and looking nervously over at Orluthe, and asking her to please stop, shh shh shh shh, and it's when he begs her to have a conversation with him in private please that she makes the connection. If this guy is affiliated with Lumiere, who's apparently affiliated with some sort of secret conspiracy that's affiliated with some sort of deific usurpation... he maybe doesn't want to have that conversation in front of a cleric.

Looseleaf:"Okay, Orluthe, uhm. Sorry, so," Looseleaf whispers into Orluthe's ear. "Long story short, turns out my sister, who left my village way before I did, ended up falling into some kind of magical secret society. The kind of secret society with Hal Lumiere, i.e. 'the torture wizard who came up with all those pain knives that we all got stabbed a lot with', was apparently a very active member of." Benedict I. (GM):Oh my god, um. Looseleaf: "So, uh, I'm kinda freaking out about that, right now, but if my hunches are right then I'm the sister of someone important in their organization?" Benedict I. (GM): As you start whispering, he tries to interrupt. "Please do not say things to him!" "Please let us speak in private!!" Looseleaf: Oh he's freaked out now huh. "Anyways that's why I am actually indeed going to speak, with this guy, in private," Looseleaf finishes. "And if I don't show up in a half-hour or so, then things have probably gone lopsided." "In which case you should find everyone else and tell them to, I dunno, come save me or whatever." "You got all that?" Benedict I. (GM): The rock man looks distraught. Orluthe Chokorov: "I, uh... think so? This is really... I'm not sure it's safe..."

With a good Persuasion roll, Orluthe agrees to stay behind, and the rock man leads Looseleaf into a backroom whose doors and walls seem warded heavily with some sort of abjuration magic. A secret saferoom.

The man describes the problem: the gods don't know that they exist, or didn't until Looseleaf went and told a cleric of Diamode that they existed. Clerics, in this setting, channel divinity literally- their gods come into their heads to do magic for them, meaning anything a cleric knows is something a god can know, if they care to check.

Benedict I. (GM): "Because if the next time Diamode is in that kid, if she goes looking for that memory..." "I mean, she might not. And you didn't mention anything about our aims, so she might consider it beneath her notice." "But that, right there? That was nearly game over." "And I can't just kill you, because if I did, Yomi would end me." Looseleaf: "Yeah, I'm not incredibly foolish, I haven't actually shown anybody else Yomi's letter." "Nobody knows that Lumiere was involved with... deicidal blasphemy." "That's what this is about, right? Thereabouts, in terms of sheer magnitude and hubris?" Benedict I. (GM): He sighs. "It's not like that." "At least, it's not all like that." "The Project is... fractious." "The less you know about the project, the less you're able to carelessly blurt out about the project your cleric friends, or to anyone who tries reading your mind or tricks you into a Zone of Truth..." "The safer we all are." "With as much as you know, you're already dangerous. It'd be best for us- and you- if you dropped this. Never spoke of it to anyone."

Looseleaf points out that it's good that she found the letter, because that tower was sitting abandoned for a year- anyone could've walked in and read it, since it was lying on a bookcase in the open.

This is somehow not taken as good news- when he finds out that the letter could've potentially been read by anyone, that there was a security breach for a year...

Looseleaf: "Look, my man, next time you want to send a letter, by the way, use... use some encoding." "Don't just write things in plaintext like a chump, by the gods." Benedict I. (GM): "He was supposed to burn after reading." Saelhen du Fishercrown: he's too dead for that! Benedict I. (GM): "Wait, you said it was... out in the open?" "But he's dead?" "Either he was an idiot, or... someone else opened his mail." "Except... Yomi should've hand-delivered it, so..." "...well. We'll definitely look into it."

He brings up sending for someone to do memory magic to handle the breach- but he realizes he can't have that done to Looseleaf, because Diamode would notice if someone tampered with her cleric's memories, and someone needs to still know what's up so they can keep Orluthe away from the truth. (Plus, she figures she'd notice the inconsistencies and end up sleuthing it out again.)

Looseleaf asks if Yomi is doing well, and gets... that she's intense, and powerful, and she probably thinks she's "doing well", but... he doesn't know about happy.

Lastly, he shows Looseleaf a symbol- a blank circle, with the elvish character 人 drawn underneath. The symbols of gods are typically circles with a design inside- so the meaning of this and its relationship to the nature of the Project is fairly easy to infer.

Benedict I. (GM): "If you need to prove to someone you're in the know, without blurting out a bunch of dangerous details, this is the mark." He then eats the paper and the graphite stick he used to draw it.

Next time: Saelhen and Oyobi grill the guard Mags for information on the Deathseekers, and connections are made with powerful individuals.

#tfj log #twofaced jewel