#and a crossbow works on humans AND vampires so it just makes sense

[specialagentlokitty]

Daryl x reader - take on the world together

Part 9:

You bared your teeth, pulling Daryl fully against your chest, and he kept his bow raised, his other hand reaching into your belt for your knife.

“Come on, you can’t be greedy now, it’s not the time for that.”

“He isn’t food.” You said lowly.

The other vampire scoffed, standing in front of the door.

“Come on, food is running low, we can’t be picky here. I mean he smells a bit ripe but that’s fine.”

“He isn’t food, get that through your thick skull asshole.”

“Then why’re you keeping him so close? We don’t give a crap about humans, not our job.”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“The world’s gone to shit moron, you can’t just go around killing people.”

“They’re gonna die anyway.”

“They can survive.”

“No they can’t, best kill them now.”

Daryl scoffed, resting his back against you.

“Try it asshole, see just how much I can kick your ass.”

The other vampire tried to move closer and Daryl shot his leg causing him to fall to the ground.

He growled, the sound echoing off the walls and Daryl scoffed.

“That ain’t scaring shit.”

The vampire ripped the arrow from his leg and smirked.

“Who says I’m trying to scared something? The dead are drawn to the sound…” he whispered.

You heard walkers snarling.

“Oh you bastard!”

You shuffled back with Daryl, and he gripped your arm, looking at you and you nodded your head.

He cut your arm.

You turned your attention away from him, pulling your jacket jacket off to cover him a little better.

“Ain’t gonna stop a whole horde of them.” The vampire whispered.

“We need to go…” Daryl whispered.

“We can’t, either the walkers will get you or he will, I can’t stop both…”

He rested his back on your shoulder, looking at the walkers in the doorway.

“I move, they came flooding in. You let me have the man, I’ll let them go on their merry way.”

You couldn’t risk moving, if you moved from Daryl there would be no doubt that the walkers would smell him instantly.

“How about some more?”

The other vampire growled again, attracting more walkers with the noise.

You realised what he was doing, he was copying the sound that a big cat would make in the wild, an animal call.

Smirked, and shuffled a little bit.

“Oh yeah? Guess what? That isn’t scaring shit…” you whispered.

You placed your hands over Daryl’s ears, and he looked up at you to see your red eyes, fangs bared.

You took a deep breath, and you growled back, deeper, a lot deeper and slower, the echo of the growl was enough to shake the windows.

Daryl felt the vibration of your chest on his back as you growled.

Where as the other ones growl was animal like, yours was much more demonic, powerful in every sense of the work.

He hadn’t been scared of anything, not his past, not death, not walkers, but that sound alone was enough to make his heart drop for a moment.

The other vampire dropped to his knees, covering his ears.

The growl lasted near enough a minute until finally you stopped.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll go, you won’t see me again…”

He scrambled away, and you stayed there, moving your hands from Daryl’s ears.

“Holy shit…” he whispered.

Pushing him up, you rushed to the door, looking outside to see the walkers leaving, not wanting to handle whatever it was that caused the noise they heard.

You stayed there for a moment and then you turned around.

“They’re gone, all of them.”

He nodded, pushing himself up and he wiped your knife on his jacket before putting it in his belt, picking up his crossbow and you picked up the two arrows.

Walking over you handed them back over to him and picked up your jacket to put it back on.

“The fuck was that about? Holy shit (Y/N).”

“It’s how we settle disputes, the one with the loudest growl always wins. The louder the growl the more painful it is to the others ears, which is why I covered yours. If it destroys our ears, imagine what it could do to yours.”

“Yeah, I like my hearing the way it is.”

You laughed a little, taking the box of supplies back to the door.

You picked up a couple of boxes and walked over to the car to put them in, and he followed you.

“Why’d his attract walkers but yours didn’t?”

“His was more animal like, mine isn’t. They may have no brain function but they’re attracted to sound, they hear an animal they go towards it, they hear a sound that loud and they automatically leave, it radiates death.”

He nodded his head, handing you the car keys for you to drive back.

Getting in the drivers side, you waited for him to give you the all clear before driving away.

You were driving for maybe a couple of minutes.

“Thanks.”

You glanced at him before turning back to the road.

“For what?”

“Driving that crazy fucker away, and letting me bleed you to cover my scent.”

“Don’t make it a habit, I like my blood being inside my body, not outside.”

He chuckled, nodding his head.

“Yeah, can’t really argue with that one.”

You smiled a little, keeping your eyes fixed on the road.

“Can you do it at any time?”

“Yeah, but I can’t do it at the prison, can’t risk anybody else finding out.”

“Why? If they see you’re just trynna help I can see them having an issue with it.”

“People are born to be scared of what they don’t understand Daryl, and I’m different. With the walkers out there I don’t think anybody is gonna be too pleased knowing that another undead is living with them.”

He glanced at you.

“You ever gonna tell ‘em?”

“When the time is right maybe, but right now this ain’t the time.”

He turned back to looking out his window.

“The boy seen that?”

“Yeah, once. Scared him a little, but he knew it wasn’t to hurt him.”

Daryl nodded again.

“Stop the car.”

You didn’t as he said though you were a little confused about why he wanted you to stop the car.

You looked at him and he smirked a little.

“Do it again.”

“Eh?”

“Come on, just show me again.”

“Fine, get out the car, we can’t be near it.”

He followed you away from the car and down the road a little bit so you could still keep an eye on it.

You took a deep breath, and you looked at him.

He covered his ears and you did the same growl as before, birds flying from the trees in fear.

Again, it was loud, demonic sounding, and it sparked that same feeling he felt back in the store, that voice in the back of his mind telling him to run.

You turned your head to look at him.

“Happy now?”

He lowered his hands, grinning a little.

“Yeah.”

You both got back to the car, and you tossed him the keys.

“Just for that you can drive back.”

“Oh hell no, I drove here.”

“You just made me growl like I was a damn show dog.”

“Hey, I asked, you complied, that ain’t my problem.”

He tossed the keys back only for you to toss them back at him before jumping into the passenger side of the car.

He walked over, opened the door he grabbed your arm and pulled you out, getting into the passenger side.

“Yeah bitch, I win.”

“I could throw you out right now.”

“Do it.”

You huffed, slamming the door closed and went back to driving back to the prison while he bragged about his victory.

You spent a few hours driving, and slowly it started to become dark.

“Think we’ll need to stop?” You asked.

Daryl looked up from his crossbow and looked out the windows.

“How far out?”

“Still about two hours or so, this path is going to be flooded with walkers soon.”

He nodded his head.

“Yeah, yeah pull over.”

You did as he asked, bringing the car behind some trees to hide it from anybody that may want to to raid the supplies.

“Is there anything nearby here?”

“It’s empty roads, and we don’t have enough daylight to go looking around, I can’t exactly leave you in the car.”

“I can manage myself.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I know that dumbass, I mean with the amount of walkers that idiot may have brought over, who knows how many there are and where they are.”

“Yeah, true.”

You took your jacket, handing it to him and he climbed into the back seat, using it to cover the window behind his head.

You reclined your seat, kicking your feet up on the dash as you watched the sun setting through the trees.

“Why don’t you turn into a massive walking matchstick?”

“Daryl what the fuck?”

He sat up a little.

“Well, you aren’t supposed to walk around during the day, the whole being of darkness hates sunlight crap.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Come on, is it true or not?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to lay on your side so you could look at him.

“Yes, it’s true. Sunlight burns us, if we’re in it too long set us on fire.”

“You ain’t on fire.”

You raised your right hand, showing him the ring on your index finger.

“Passed on through generations of vampires, one dies the ring goes to a new one. This one belonged to the woman that turned me. She was being chased by hunters, left me this.”

“Sorry.”

You shrugged slightly.

“That’s life.”

“You mean death?”

You stuck your middle finger up at him and rolled back over to stare out the window.

Daryl shuffled down, resting his head on the seat, putting his arm over his eyes.

You closed yours as well, but without much need for sleep you just laid there, any walked going past just ignoring you.

You were listening to the world around, for people, walkers, animals, everything.

So, after a while of just laying there you knew when something was wrong, everything went quiet immediately.

Getting up you tapped Daryl’s thigh, making him grumble a little.

“Somethings wrong…”

“Why?”

“It’s quiet.”

He opened his eyes, looking over at you, slowly reaching for the knife in his belt and you shook your head, handing him your other one.

“Keep it there in case…”

He slowly nodded, and you quietly opened the car door.

Standing up, you closed the door quietly, jumped on the roof of the car, crouched down as you looked around.

There wasn’t anything, not a single Walker, or animal.

You leant over the car, knocking on the drivers side window and he opened the window a little.

“I don’t see anything, slowly drive, I’ll bang twice if I see anything…”

“Yeah…”

You crouched down, keeping a hand between the gap in the in the window and the roof of the car, and Daryl slowly took the car back on the road, trying to be as quiet as possible as he drove down it.

You looked around, listened, but there was nothing.

It was strange, there was no way they all just wondered away, you should’ve heard at least one or two walkers somewhere.

“Anything?” He quietly called.

“No, keep going.”

You got closer to the prison, and you heard all the noise.

You heard the walkers at the fence, people shouting, and you heard Spencer yell your name loudly.

“The prison!”

Daryl immediately sped job not wasting any time, going as fast as as he could to get back to the prison

#the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader #twd #twd imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon

[lilac-hecox]

THATS RIGHT YOU'RE THE IANS DAY PERSON.

okok so. Vampire!Damien/Ian, yeah? maybe a Vampire!Damien/VampireHunter!Ian?? I see a potential enemies to lovers situaton??? Ian's been a hunter for years, and Damien is the first vampire that's escaped him.

Hunter!Ian/Vampire Damien! - Truce

--

Ian fires his crossbow and the arrow whizzes past the too fast darkened figure and sticks firmly into the wood frame of the vampire’s bedroom door. Ian is surprised. He rarely misses with his trusty bow, and he is quick to pull a fresh arrow from his quiver, loading it up for another go.

He whips around to scan for the vampire, his eyes searching the deep darkness for any hint of movement. At the very last second Ian sees that dark shadowy figure lunging at him from behind. Ian whirls around and fires the bow and he hears a hiss of pain so at least he knows he’s made contact with the creature.

It isn’t enough though and Ian is quickly knocked to the floor on his back, a heavy weight on top of him. Then, Ian is staring up into golden eyes.

The silver haired vampire had been struck in the shoulder, the bolt of the arrow sticking out. A deep red of his blood stains the white of the vampire’s shirt, blossoming around where the arrow had found its target. The silver-haired vampire clutches Ian’s throat with black tipped claws.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you, hunter scum,” the vampire growls.

In all the years Ian has been hunting vampires, this is the first time he’s ever really been sure that he’ll likely be killed. He swallows but works to show no fear, not wanting to give the beast satisfaction.

“Hmm, I thought the famous vampire hunter would prove to be more of a challenge.”

“You got lucky,” Ian grits out.

The vampire presses on his throat, “Did I, now? Perhaps I am just stronger than most.”

“I’ve killed stronger,” Ian says.

“Yes, like my friends, my grandfather,” the vampire says, “you’ve been a known enemy to the Haas clan for years lowly hunter.”

Ian sucks in a breath. Shit. This is a Haas? The youngest. He had read about him before…

“Damien,” Ian says.

Damien’s face shows a smug sense of entertainment, “You’ve heard of me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I don’t think you see the peril you’re in, Hunter,” Damien says, “to me you are like a mouse, and I am the cat. I could end you.”

“You say while bleeding all over yourself.”

“This mouse is quite brave,” Damien says, leaning in closer and baring his teeth the same time he squeezes harder at Ian’s throat, stopping his flow of air, “and stupid.”

“G-Go ahead and kill me,” Ian grits out, “I won’t be the last hunter to come after you.”

Damien clicks his tongue, “Where would the fun be in that? If I kill you I feel the rest would be child’s play compared to you.” Damien briefly sniffs at Ian’s neck. Ian grimaces and leans away, but he’s locked under Damien’s strong form. “Besides, you smell divine.”

“Try to drink from me and I’ll gut you,” Ian threatens though he’s in no position to prove it.

Damien chuckles, “You’re an interesting little human, aren’t you? I like to think I am the most civil Haas family member so far. I don’t kill indiscriminately like my cousins. Some would call me progressive.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Really? I don’t recall insulting you. I’ll make you a deal little human. I’ll let you go and you’ll leave and we’ll both live to fight another day,” Damien says.

Honestly, the proposition is a good one but Ian has no reason to believe a monster would tell the truth. He has few options though, so he nods.

Damien backs up and in a split second he’s back in the shadows. Ian stands and cradles his arm where he had hit the stone of the ground. He scans the shadows, but the monster had held up his end of the deal. Ian shoulders his bow and makes towards the window, intent on scaling his way back out of the small castle that Damien calls home.

He’s got one foot on the ledge when he hears that honey-sweet voice, “See you again, Hunter.”

#polysmosh #smoshships #dameian #daian #damian #vampire!damien #hunter!ian #ian's day #Ian's day 2023 #my writing #my fic #my fics #prompts #fan fic #fan fiction #i love when i get to write ian with a bow and arrow

[someonefantastic]

Just finished 1x03 and can safely say I'm hooked! This show is so weird in the best possible way. The guest characters in this ep, that I'm guessing came from btvs, did annoy me a little (was kinda hoping Angel would kill that weaselly vamp with the weird hair but oh well) but still very much loved the whole ep. Cordy used a crossbow! And her and Doyle being so concerned over Angel, as well as him wanting to keep them out of it so they'd be safe... found family is the BEST trope ever. Legit got emotional when Angel was walking on the beach, feeling the sun and watching the families hanging out. And loved the discussion with Doyle about why he had to get rid of the ring. I'm gonna binge watch a few more eps tonight since I don't have to work tomorrow.

(Quick question though. They haven't actually explained Angel's powers, but from what I gathered he has super strength and healing, and his kryptonite is apparently sunlight and wood? Just tryna get a better understanding of the show's lore.)

THAT WEASELLY VAMP WITH THE WEIRD HAIR KSJDFKSDFDJF that is literally the funniest description of Spike I have ever heard I'm dying akjfdadf He actually becomes one of the series regulars on btvs (and later a love interest of Buffy's) and is one of the more fan favorites on the show so unfortunately, Angle couldn't kill him. But yeah, the btvs crossover eps in s1 are a little weird especially if you don't already know the characters but I'm glad you still enjoyed the ep!! It's such a fun one! The Angel Investigations team is literally such a family and you're only on ep three! It gets even better! Also Angel in the sun always makes me 🥺 And YES Cordy with a crossbow!!!!!!!! It's Such a good scene and her haiiiir (also you'll get this but the Johnny Depp reference makes me think of that one joke in Shawn vs the Red Phantom). It makes me so happy that you're hooked and I hope you enjoy your binge!! Feel free to keep up these asks! I love getting them!!

Yeah, Angel's powers are weird because they're never like specifically detailed, like he'll go and do something and I'm like oh??? he can do that??? But from what I gather being a vampire on btvs/ats comes with enhanced abilities and senses so he's super strong and fast and can smell and hear things really well and heals much faster than a human would and he can withstand more injuries. And then the only ways to kill him (and other vampires) are a stake (or just wood) through the heart, fire (hence the sunlight thing which will set him on fire), or decapitation, everything else he survives even if it's really damaging. (There's actually an episode in s2 of btvs where Spike gets squashed and would've basically died if he were human but instead he winds up temporarily paralyzed.) Holy water and crosses also burn him but they don't kill him. There's also the whole immortality thing and also I think I should add that since Angel is a vampire with a soul, there's a clause in his curse that he can't find perfect happiness or else he'll lose his soul and turn back into the psychotic killer he was pre-soul so he’s really just doing his best

#i have no clue if i created more questions than i answered or what but please feel free to ask me more questions for context or lore or #anything in general because i do not mind at all and would love to answer any and all of them #but yeah i'm so pumped that you're enjoying this show!!! #ats #sci fi pony #skipps speaks #asks

[panicsdemonically]

Character entry 1.0

Writers Note: This is a vampire operating on my own design, so if some details appear unusual, please don't be afraid to ask for clarification. Another post will be made in the future fully outlining this dreed of vampirism.

Name: Ailill Mortir

Fandom: None

Species: Born Vampire

Literal Age: 124

Birth Month: Aug. (Virgo)

Sex/Gender: Nonbinary (he/they)

Sexuality: Gray Ace

Family: No Affiliated Clan

Nationality: French

Occupation: Independent private investigator of the paranormal

Affiliated colors: Dark Spring Green #177245

______________________________________________________________ Personality He'd rather be anywhere else. At least, that's the message his body language sends. Standing angled towards the nearest exit at all times, or lounging like he's waiting to be excused. Conversationally he's noted as seeming "bored" or "elsewhere". It's unclear if this is intentional as he's admitted his mind tends to wander without permission. His expression is fixed in a neutral stare, disengaged and tired. Really selling the idea that every interaction is work. All of this is only partly true. He's an introvert by nature and finds most people exhausting to entertain, only making exceptions for a select few who've earned his favor. How they did this, they're sure. To those he chooses to lend time to, he's far more open, sharing his sharp opinions and harsh criticisms freely. That doesn't sound like an upgrade but it's his way of showing he's paying attention. His life has made him clinical, allowing himself and others little room for error. Making every interaction with another person a defining moment. So he often comes off as arrogant. When left allowed, and allowed to approach on his own, he can choose to be a surprisingly willing listener. Though still overly analytical about problems, he tries to handle the situation with grace. To summarize, he's like owning a reclusive cat that only comes out when no one else is around, and no one will believe they let you pet them.

_____________________________________________________________

Physical Appearance

Being a born vampire means Ailill has varying appearances ranging from indistinguishably human- to a full movie monster. Both range depending on mood, hunger, and willingness.

Human: A normal person, sleep-deprived, and in desperate need of sunlight. His physical age appears 22-25, he's 5'7", and he weighs around 150lb with mid-length dark brown hair swept behind his ear with long side-locks framing his face. He has green eyes with permanent dark circles under them. His physique is thin and a bit gaunt, or sickly. He has only one scar on the front and back of his thigh from having a crossbow bolt pierce through and be left in too long.

Half-vamped: This can be any combination of his typically hidden features depending on his level of distress or hunger. Pointed ears, sharp nails, pointed teeth, etc. He can choose to show these at will, however, at times when he’s taken mass damage or needs to eat, his skin will grow colder and paler which can not be hidden until healed or fed.

Full monster: He has wings that can extend and retract into nonexistence in any of his other forms, but are a permanent fixture in this one. They’re thin, pliable, and slightly translucent when extended, just like bat wings. His ears grow pointier and wider to utilize his enhanced senses. His limbs are long and lanky, used for quick mobility, granting him an extra foot of height. He has a short slender tail, not used for much. His teeth are all sharp and predominant towards the front, causing his lips and nose to scrunch into a permanently wrinkled snarl. A long tongue companies his monstrous features, used for lapping blood more efficiently. The hairs on his body grow, covering most of his skin in a short fuzz the same tone as the hair on his head. His pupils widen and narrow to the light available, glowing and reflecting any light shined upon them like a wild animal.

______________________________________________________________

Likes/Dislikes Likes: Raw fruits, Transcription, Admiring his collection of classic original prints like The Modern Prometheus (Frankenstein) by Mary Shelley and Dracula by Bram Stoker, Playing the violin

Dislikes: Bright lights (specifically fluorescent bulbs), Being touched without permission, Strong perfumes or fumes from chemicals, Other vampires

______________________________________________________________

Spells Spells must be learned and practiced to master. Blood Siphon: Pulling blood from himself or others through a wound to shape a deflective whip or projectile. He tends to refrain from using this power on anyone for moral reasons, and on himself for the amount of magic and blood it bleeds from him.

______________________________________________________________

Skills Something the character has worked on perfecting physically, mentally, or academically Runic Translation: Ailill's specialty is the transcription of magical knowledge. To do this efficiently he's learned to translate complex spells into easier-to-white symbols. The symbols can also become quite complex, having smaller fragmented marks put together to form long chains of cryptic-looking etchings only a trained eye can read. With this skill, he can infuse his magic, or blood, with the 'rune' to create self-sustaining spells that stay active without leaching magic from a caster. This is a key element used in enchanting.

______________________________________________________________

Extras

His glasses aren’t just for show, without them he’s legally blind. Bright lights tend to make it even worse.

His eyes reflect back light like a cat in the dark

He can eat human food but tends to refuse due to multiple food allergies. Garlic primarily.

His personal talent is Enchantment. Over the years he’s learned how to channel his carnal magic into something useful.

#oc #my art #oc lore #character sheet #Ailill Mortir #vampire #vampire lore #oc art #digital art

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

no but hear me out: vampire hunter movie, but given the ubiquitousness of the black-leather-overcoat-billowing-in-the-wind aesthetic, the audience doesn’t figure out for sure who’s the hunter & who’s the monster until 50 minutes in

#vampires #bonus: crossbows are BOTH character's weapon of choice #bc the vampire can't be 100% certain their victims won't turn out to be undead #and a crossbow works on humans AND vampires so it just makes sense #they both wear capes & metal chains & swords #bc that shit is HELLA RAD and neither of them is required to wear a work uniform so #also i want a 3rd character who the vampire & hunter both stalk bc they're convinced this dude is a vampire and/or fellow hunter #but nah they're just a normal grocery store clerk whose really into the Aesthetic

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 1 (Supernatural AU)

Request: Can I get some vampire Komaeda x reader? I loved the Kokichi one and Komaeda is my absolute fave :3 thanks <3

This will be a full series with multiple chapters, not a head-canon or short imagine. Nagito is my favorite Danganronpa character, even ahead of Kokichi.

Part 2 here

Also this will be set in the DR3 anime universe, when they are all just Ultimates at Hope’s Peak before the Tragedy

- Admin Kokichi

     “When are they coming out?!” You could hear a girl roar from the crowd before you. It was your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, and already you could tell that at least some of the crazy rumors about the school’s eccentricities were true. You’d only been walking around campus, getting your bearings before you moved into the Main Course dorms later that evening.

     It was a bit odd to see a group of nearly a dozen girls from the Reserve Course waiting at the entrance to the Main Course building, waiting to watch some of the Ultimates walk to the cafeteria. I mean, being an Ultimate didn’t make one worth fan-girling over, right? But maybe you’d have seen their side of it if you weren’t an Ultimate yourself.

~

     Jin Kirigiri, the school’s headmaster, was a very close childhood friend of your father’s, as was the school’s recruiter, Koichi Kizakura. It was only natural that they both insisted you go there, especially with your talent. You were the Ultimate Hunter... or... that’s what your official transcripts said anyway. Your real talent was a little more… complicated to explain to a normal society.

     Your real and extended title was that of the Ultimate Monster Hunter, just like your father before you decades ago. That was your passion, your focus, but since you were also prodigious in the normal hunting of animals, that was the title Headmaster Kirigiri assigned you. Of course, Kizakura and Kirigiri knew of your family’s hunter lineage and the existence of supernatural beings, most of the higher-ups at Hopes Peak did, what with all the connections and respect the academy had garnered.

     Most governments, large corporations and upper-class citizens were privy to the existence of monsters, and those sworn to protect all humans from them, so of course Kirigiri knew of such things, however, he couldn’t exactly have you honing your skills in his classrooms and training yards. The general public would either think he’d gone mad for allowing such activities - training to kill beings that did not exist - or worse, they’d wise up and take notice, revealing the secret of supernatural creatures to the world.

     No, no, that couldn’t be allowed to happen, and so Kizakura and Kirigiri had you practicing your crossbow aim on animal-shaped dummies, had you doing general agility and reflex training. Your firearms were used in a high-tech shooting arena that doubled as a dojo when martial arts students arrived for their allotted lesson time.

     Honestly, you didn’t even want to attend Hope’s Peak, seeing as Headmaster Kirigiri had made it very clear that you couldn’t use any of your true talent anywhere on campus or even while in uniform off-campus. You also had to hide your face with a helmet or mask of some type while hunting from now on. You couldn’t be associated with or traced back to the academy in any way, should someone see you engaged with a monster and spread word of it before being apprehended by law enforcement. This rule was only made more severe by the fact that some of your fellow students were of the very species you made a living annihilating.

     That’s right, Hope’s Peak itself was host to the very rare vampire, werewolf, demon, shapeshifter or other manner of beast. Not all of them chose to be hostile or stuck out like a sore thumb, and hey, if you had the talent, you had the talent. It made you question why you should even give the academy a second thought. It felt like they were mocking you, letting inhuman creatures attend a school they personally invited you to, but your father all but forced you to enroll. He insisted it would be the best for your future, and that there’s no one he trusted more than Kirigiri and Kizakura.

     “But if anything… anything at all happens to (Y/N), Jin, I swear on our friendship, I will handle it myself,” he’d said. Your father’s words rung through your mind like a constant reminder. He meant it, too. Your father was the hunter of all hunters, a king of sorts in his circle. Kirigiri knew very well that letting him down was not an option.

~ 

     You stood on the very edge of the group, as far from the doors as possible but still near enough to the others that you wouldn’t look like some weird loner. You sighed, chuckling under your breath at their chittering. It was all so silly.

     “Here they come!” You were startled out of your trance when one out of the whole gaggle of girls before you squealed loudly. You walked toward the front of their group, fascinated by how excited they all were. You were merely curious to see what all the fuss was about. How could they possibly be this worked up about other students their age, just walking to lunch after class? Then again, you hadn’t met any of your fellow Ultimates. Was there some kind of beauty requirement to become one? Huh, wouldn’t surprise me, you thought rather cynically to yourself. This place loves to flaunt its students and reputation.

     “Look~ it’s Fuyuhiko!” One of the girls pushed roughly past you, grazing your shoulder. You could practically see hearts in her eyes as she passed.

     “Jeez, okay...” you muttered sheepishly and leaned back again. You may be a monster killer, but that only worked out because of the adrenaline rush and the lack of attachment and value placed on your targets. In normal life and social situations, it felt like you were the one being killed.

     Great! Now I can’t see anything! You mentally snapped at the fan-girls bumping and shuffling into you with every sporadic movement they made. You couldn't see anything, but you could certainly hear the girls get louder and louder by the second. You were now completely pushed to the side of the group as the girls grunted and hissed like rabid animals.

     “And that’s the lucky one! Komaeda, I think! Man, he’s so hot…” A random brunette drooled. 

Nagito Komaeda: Vampire

Status: Protected/Neutral

Classification: B

Unique Talents and Powers: A cycle of good and bad luck. All other unique traits under review.

Age: Unknown

Coven or Clan: None

     You mechanically recalled little bits and details from your dad’s casework and journals on the most famous vampires in the country. Nagito... yes… you were going to stay away from this one.

     The supernatural beings that could pass as human and were deemed not to be a danger to society signed contracts and treaties that allowed them to live out their lives like normal and protected them legally from hunters (much to your kind’s chagrin). They had strict rules to follow, however, and those who broke said rules were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and taken off the protection list, making them fair game to hunters. 

     You really didn’t understand why they kept giving the feral savages chances. Erasing the memories of witnesses, victims (if they survived), and their families after each attack or incident was costly and just unfair to mankind.

     The girls continued to shout and vie for the boys’ attention. Fuyuhiko huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the fuss they were making. This only served to rile them up further, however. It seemed the tough, flippant, bad-boy yakuza persona is exactly what they wanted. They loved the way he gave them the cold shoulder.

     Nagito, on the other hand, was a different case entirely. He didn’t just ignore the girls, he made an obvious show of his disgust for them. He was practically snarling, nose scrunched up as he leaned away from the crowd of them. It wasn’t annoyance at their mewling and squawking, it was something far different. Something like pure revulsion mixed with condescension. But why? It didn’t really matter, as the girls clearly didn’t pick up on his cues, shooting rapid-fire questions his way and reaching out for his sleeves. You scoffed. It was so shallow of them to only like him for his looks and title of Ultimate he held. They knew nothing about him. 

     What he could do to them if they got them alone. How him could kill them in an instant, and even possibly enjoy that kill.

     While you were lost in the abhorrence of your thoughts, Nagito’s eyes had honed in on you, noticed that you were wearing the same uniform as him, and promptly glided over in front of you.

     “Why, hello there!” Komaeda stopped right in front of you. You took a startled step back, but he grasped your hand, preventing you from moving any further away. You did everything you could to repress your fear and repugnance, but your hand still shook slightly in his cold, dead one, and you were sure he could tell. He giggled, obviously enamored with your very presence. “I don’t believe I've seen you before, but you must be in the Main Course as well! What’s your name, if I might ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna...” Nagito grinned widely, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. The girls swooned beside you. It seemed you were the only one afraid of what those teeth could do. He was deceivingly beautiful on the outside: tall, pale, doe-eyed, and dangerous. His Class B ranking put him just below the most dangerous of vampires, the elite, the royal clans.

     “(Y-Y/N). It’s my first day.” Your voice shook as you jerked your hand away roughly. It was hard to feel confident without your weapons on you, knowing there was nothing you could do to defend yourself here. Damn you, Kirigiri.

      Your father would be enraged if he knew you had just touched a vampire’s hand so casually. Nagito frowned slightly. He could sense it, the way you didn't trust him, the way you didn't like him down deep inside. He knew you knew something you shouldn't, knew more than the other humans attending Hope’s Peak, and he didn't like it. His brow furrowed in a display of frustration, but that quickly melted away, and he smiled kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners. He would figure out what made you special, even among the Ultimates he revered so passionately. Something was off, and it would kill him if he didn’t figure out why.

     “Well, (Y/N)” He leaned down to your height, his face inches from yours, breathing deeply. Almost as soon as he’d inhaled, he snapped back up, his spine stiff and straight. “Oh!” A look of almost painful surprise and confusion crossed his countenance.

     “What?” You panicked, looking him up and down.

     “Oh, uh, nothing… you smell really good, heh. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, huh? Wow, I’m really the worst...” he chuckled awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a display of innocence. Your mouth hung open, appalled. How could he be so bold about his nature in public? You knew exactly what he was smelling. The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in fear and vexation. Your reaction told him all he needed to know, and in that instant, he decided he wanted to know more. Nagito was the obsessive type, and you were going to be his new fixation. Why did you know? Who told you of his... condition? “Anyway, welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. I hope I have the honor of seeing you again.” You could hear the wave of extreme jealousy behind you. The heat of anger and envy for you was thick in the air.

     “Enough, Komaeda, ya big creep…” the small but feisty boy cleared his throat before continuing.  “C’mon, if you wanna have time for lunch it’s now or never!” You sighed in relief. Fuyuhiko placed his hand on Nagito's shoulder, pulling him gently away from you. 

     “Sorry, sorry!” Nagito offered a warm smile to his shorter friend. “I’m coming! I apologize, Fuyuhiko” He turned to you,“See you in class, (Y/N)” He simpered, and continued to trail along behind his friend.

     Not if you had anything to say about it…

     You were going to avoid that boy like the plague. Just because you couldn’t kill him, doesn’t mean you had to be best friends.

#nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #vampire #supernatural AU #monster AU #ultimate SHSL #gender neutral reader #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #danganronpa #Trigger happy havoc #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 goodbye despair #danganronpa v3 #enemies to friends #friends to lovers #female reader #male reader #imagine #scenarios #fluff #angst #enemies to lovers #headcanon #danganronpa killing harmony #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #s/o #y/n #sfw

[plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety]

A Bat in Fire

Ship: lamp

Word Count: 1,838

Summary: Virgil doesn't like most of his past, but his boyfriends are there to help him.

Virgil ran as the hunter lit up the forest, branches hitting him in the face and his head pounding. He could tell distinctly that he wasn’t running as fast as normal, but his legs didn’t feel heavy at all.

The hunter, pleased with the amount of foliage he set on fire, threw his torch into a nearby bush. The bush shook and the hunter shouted, “You have three options, bat. You can fight me now and have us burn together, you can perish as you’re cornered like a rat from the flames, or you can run away to your little hiding place. If you choose that last option, the men of this village and I will track you down in morning as there will no longer be anything alive to hide your lair.”

Virgil’s mind raced at the human’s words, giving thoughts quicker than he could make sense of them. It supplied him with the image of Janus fast asleep, peacefully spread out on the floor of their burrow, before Virgil could even begin to figure out what his own thoughts were.

“Either way I’ll return the bones of the slaughtered children to their families!” Virgil wanted to scream, but couldn’t find his voice. He’d never heard of anyone but humans hurting children, even Janus would never stoop that low. The hunter was just speaking of the lies and atrocities he made.

The hunter’s eyes scanned the-now bright-forest. The only thing alight in his area was the bush he threw his torch into.

Part of Virgil was yelling at himself to sprint to the burrow and save Janus. While the other was yelling that Virgil still had enough time to make it to the mountains, yelling that Janus would only make him slower so neither of them would make it out alive.

But then the hunter’s eyes locked with Virgil’s and the thoughts were drowned out. The vampire felt as if he couldn’t move, even as the hunter reached for the crossbow on his hip. The human’s hand looked almost golden in the light.

That was when the plants behind the hunter erupted.

There was a flash at the hunter’s hand and suddenly Virgil found him blinding to look at. Virgil snapped his head away instantly. His thoughts took the opportunity to come crashing back down on him.

His legs felt like they could move and time once again felt like it was passing. He blinked a few times before forcing himself to look back, despite his better judgement.

As soon as he did it felt like his soul left his body.

Thick coils covered the majority of the hunter’s body. Unlike the human’s skin, the coils reflected the firelight in a way that it made them look like they were made of it. They connected to a human torso towering over the hunter.

Blood was speckled around the naga’s mouth.

Virgil only then realized how much of the forest was actually on fire when a flaming branch fell by Janus. Apparently made Janus realize, too, because he was startled enough to loosen his grip on the hunter enough for him to kick away the coils and tumble away.

Virgil watched as Janus regained his focus only milliseconds before he was tackled by the hunter, brandishing a dagger and wearing a more bloodthirsty look than he or Janus ever wore. As soon as Janus’ back hit the ground he was already flipping the two of them to pin the hunter instead.

The stench of blood hit Virgil as the hunter blindly swung his arm holding the dagger. Causing Virgil to finally notice how the hand that originally went for the crossbow was now missing. The cause for the blood around Janus’ mouth finally clicked.

The naga ignored the flames of the grass under them as he began bashing the human’s against the ground over and over again.

Virgil pried himself away and started running. At that moment it felt like Janus told him too. He didn’t know how, Janus hadn’t said anything at all or even looked at Virgil, but he knew Janus wanted him to run.

Then it all was black.

Virgil felt a weight on his chest and opened his eyes. When had he closed his eyes? On his chest was Logan, fast asleep and using him as a pillow.

Virgil took a moment to appreciate the darkness of the room, despite the pounding of his heart. He attempted to steady his breathing before checking to make sure his other two boyfriends were also there and safe.

He let out a sigh of relief when they were.

Carefully, Virgil slid Logan’s head off his chest onto the bed. The thought of Logan’s head bloodied and crushed like the hunter’s briefly flashed to him. He flinched away from the thought as soon as it appeared. Blankets pooled around him as he did his best to sit up without disturbing the others.

He just sat there for a minute, his feet resting on the floor and facing away from the majority of the room. He didn’t like feeling so exposseed, yet the cold of the floor felt grounding. Eventually fear won, so Virgil stood up and turned around to face the rest of the room.

Only to feel like there was now something the way he just turned from.

He gave into the temptation to run his hand through Roman’s hair as he walked to the door. It really was softer than it had any right to be. Luckily the door didn’t make any noise as it was opened. Unlike the doors of Logan’s old apartment.

The hallways were too dark, it wasn’t a large problem for him. Virgil winced at the reminder of what he was.

His eyes played tricks on him by making the shadows masquerade as everything but a snake. Halfway down the stairs he could’ve sworn he heard a torch being lit which caused him to nearly fall down the rest of the stairs from how fast he turned around. The house remained as dark as ever though.

He made his way into the kitchen almost on autopilot. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was already starting the coffee machine and reaching for his mug. Virgil stopped to glance at the clock, and then reached for Logan’s favorite mug, too. It was only a few hours before Logan normally woke up for wor

Of course, Logan would never admit it was his favorite mug. Logan would say that having favorites was illogical and even if it wasn’t he’d never prefer a shoddily made clay mug over the ones he’d bought. He'd be lying though.

Virgil busied himself by focusing on the tiles of the floor until the machine beeped.

The coffee burned as he drank it. Patton would have lectured him to wait for it to cool down if he was there.

Clicking on the floor sounded in the hallway.

Shadows once again felt suffocating. The room felt like it was closing in on him and his breathing sped up again. He shot his arm with the mug outwards on instinct, forgetting there was a wall in front of it.

The mug shattered from the impact. Hot coffee spilled on and broken parts of the mug dug into his hand. Virgil yelped and stared at his new injury for only a second before he whipped his head around to meet eyes with the person in the doorframe.

There stood Roman, the half spider’s face a mix of shock and horror.

Virgil didn’t have time to say anything before they looked up in unison from the sound of something large falling upstairs. Two pairs of pounding footsteps shortly followed. The pain only felt more real as Patton and Logan rounded the corner and appeared next to Roman.

Logan’s breath hitched and he ran out again.

“Virgil you’re bleeding!”

Virgil tried to hide a quiet chuckle as his knuckles turned white from gripping the counter, “I’m not sure if I should call you Captain Obvious or dad, so I’m just going to settle with saying I can’t lose blood that wasn’t mine in the first place.”

“That’s not how that works,” Patton said in a much quieter voice.

“Pretty sure it is.” Virgil attempted to smirk but it ended up being more of a grimace.

Then there were arms around his waist, leading him out of the room and to the sofa. Based off of the clicking, Virgil assumed the aems belonged to Roman. At some point Patton had grabbed his arm and started checking over the injury.

By the time Virgil was being sat down Logan was already there with the first aid kit. It wasn’t long until Logan started removing bits of ceramic. Virgil did his best to not show how much it hurt, but it was hard to hide anything when Patton rubbed circles into his back and whispered comforting phrases.

Logan stuck his tongue out slightly as he attentively worked. Virgil made a mental note of how he looked uncharacteristically frazzled.

Soon his hand was bandaged and the three monsters were watching as Logan lectured himself while fixing his hair in the black of the television.

Roman spoke up first, the others only then realizing how unusually quiet he was, “Sorry for hurting you Virgil.”

“Princey, I’m going to be completely honest with you when I say that what you just said is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Virgil considered for a moment. “Except for when you tried to convince me that Cinderella is better than Mulan.”

That surprised a small chuckle out of Roman.

“To put in my own words," Logan started, "I also agree that the remark you just made was rather, for lack of a better word, stupid. Virgil’s injury is hardly your fault. I’m assuming that you merely found Virgil not in bed and you tried to find him out of concern. Then whatever caused Virgi to be out of bed also caused him to be scared of the sound you made. There’s very little chance it would have been any different if Patton or I were in your place.”

“But-”

“No buts about it,” Patton interrupted as he slung an arm around Roman’s shoulders. The conversation was settled when Roman melted into the touch.

Logan checked over Virgil’s hand once more, then excused himself to dispose of the garbage created and clean up the mess in the kitchen. Slowly, Patton wrapped his other arm around Virgil’s waist. Virgil also leaned into his touch.

Years ago Virgil would have stiffened up at the touch, but he’s never felt safer than he did with his boyfriends.

Later Logan would come back and cuddle with the rest of them until he had to get ready for work. Virgil would tell them he had a nightmare when his boyfriends asked and none of them would pry further. But at that moment everything was okay and Virgil couldn't imagine a time where it wouldn't be.

#Feel free to ask me about this au #(Also I'm tagging all the characters in this‚ but it's mostly Virgil) #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #plz writes #<- I'll change that once J fighre out a name for this au #Feel free to sugest one!! #vampire virgil #naga janus #half spider roman #(also Patton is a vampire but it's not mentioned) #tw death #death tw #tw murder #murder tw #tw fire #fire tw #tw nightmares #nightmares tw #lamp #(<- I'm allowing myself to break my tagging rule this one time bc I don't feel like typing all that out again) #tw child death mention #virgil angst #tiny bit of Roman angst #hurt/comfort

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Into the Night - 1

Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

New chapter posted every day from now to 10/31!! at 8pm EST!!!

Pairing: Bam Bam x You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1868

Warnings: ABO dynamic

It was up to you to fix this before your family could find out. You didn’t know what the monsters were, what they looked like, what they wanted, or how to find them, but you knew you had a new calling.

Take them down.

The darkness filled the field and you could barely see ahead of you. Your crossbow in one hand and a high strength flashlight in the other were all you had to stop these things from escaping and destroying the real world. You knew from your training that there were 11 kinds of monsters in this realm. Vampires, werewolves, demons, sirens, succubi, warlocks, ghosts (both friendly and not so friendly), zombies, faeries, trolls, and shape-shifters. The other monsters were kept in a different realm, guarded by a different family in an undisclosed part of the world. 

You knew how to stop each monster, but you were never taught how to get them back into their realm, especially now that the incantation closed the portal for at least another year. 

You began to run through the corn fields into the woods that surrounded the seemingly harmless warehouse. You were sure you saw at least one of the clumps of smoke fly in this direction, and at this point, that was the best and only lead you had.

Running through the forest you hear a large growl. You tried to follow the sound but it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time and was impossible to follow.

The growl stopped and you heard two twigs break beneath a creature behind you. You spin fast and see what looks like a man and wolf hybrid run passed you before howling at the not yet full moon.

“Who’s there?” You yelled into the woods, crossbow pointed at the direction you saw the creature go in.

“The big bad wolf.” you heard whispered into your ear. 

You turn and immediately fire an arrow at the creature, but it grabs it without a second thought.

“Nice try my little kitten, but to beat this wolf you need better game than that.” The man said before his eyes lit up a breathtaking amber and he approached you. His features were slightly distorted and he had a bit more hair than a normal human should, but he otherwise looked to be nearly normal.

He disappeared for a moment and then the sound of him sniffing was happening behind you, followed by another growl, and a needy whine as he reappeared from the darkness and nuzzled his face into your neck, licking and scraping his fangs across the flesh as you shuddered.

“I’m Bam,” He said as he took your scent in. You were getting turned on by this creature when you should have been killing him and you didn’t know what to do. 

“You’re a werewolf.” you said, trying to hold in your sanity, his earthy smell had you captivated. 

His fangs ran across your neck again and you moaned softly as he focused on a particularly sensitive part. He shuddered and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you into him with his face still buried in your neck. 

One clawed hand focused down into your pants, making you gasp as a claw scraped gently across your clit, your hips bucking as you could hear a small growling chuckle from right beside your ear as he bit your lobe and tugged. 

“Don’t worry, kitten, this big bad wolf won’t bite hard enough to cause you any trouble.” You felt his smirk along your neck, “Unless you’d rather join the side of the hunted instead of the hunter.”

You shivered at that thought. It both excited and terrified you. You grew up knowing the secrets of the supernatural world, but never had the choice to choose to be a part of it yourself. 

“I can’t betray my family.” you struggled to say.

“Loyalty. I like that.” he whispered as he pulled you in closer. “I can sense you would be a fine omega if you joined me.” He began to pull your pants down slightly, “This alpha would make you into the best bitch the realm had ever seen.” He pulled his clawed hands away from your core before smelling and licking your slick off of them. “A strong omega indeed, you could bear the finest of pups with me, you know.”

His one hand dove back in and continued its assault on your core through your panties as the other suddenly ripped through your shirt and bra roughly in one fell swoop, the scraps of clothing quickly moved to let your chest fall out. You could feel what was left of your shirt sliding down your shoulders as you bucked into his hand.

“Oh fuck, Bam!” You whimpered out needily as the hand that had ripped off your shirt started twisting and tugging at your nipple. You could see his face out of the corner of your eye and the glint of his teeth drew your attention to the wolfish grin on his face as he played with your body so excitedly. He leaned down and bit your shoulder, making you cry out and arch your back into his hands before he licked the mark softly, as though a soft primal way of telling you he knew you were his even if only for tonight. You couldn’t help but pant, a hand coming behind you to run in Bam’s dark black hair as a pleased growl came through his chest.

“I promise that wasn’t enough to make you mine. That, I won’t do without your consent.”

“I can’t” you breathed, finally dropping the crossbow and flashlight and giving in to your desires. Pleasure first, work later.

You knew that was the wrong mentality, but what could an extra few minutes do to your timeline?

When the light fell it angled up and you could see his features more clearly now. he had a strong jaw and cheek bones, his eyes pierced into your soul, his lips were in a permanent pillowy pout with his fangs hanging slightly out, and his disheveled hair made him look like he had just been fucked 100 times before this. He ran his hands along your body and pulled you close again. His radiating heat keeping you warm on this cool October night and his rock hard, throbbing cock pressing right up against your core.

“Stop teasing me!” you begged, squirming on his knee then looking back to him the best you could in this position, catching the pure lust in his amber hued animalistic eyes as you quivered in his touch, “Alpha, please! I need your cock in me!”

He responded quickly to that, and before you knew it you were on your hands and knees, the grass and dirt of the forest floor able to be felt pressing against your skin even better with how sensitive this all had made you. Bam yanked what little bit of clothing you had left off of you, his cock pressing against your entrance as he snarled, claws digging into your hips a little as he pulled you closer. You gasped, about to say something about the size of his swelling dick not being able to fit before he started thrusting anyways, shallow thrusts at first, pushing into you with each stab at your core, causing your eyes to roll up at the foreign sensation. He growled and kept going until one particularly hard thrust left him sheathed fully inside you as you screamed out into the empty forest. 

He stopped for a small moment, seeming pleased with himself before a small throb of your pussy sent a shudder through him and he pressed his whole body on top of yours, thrusting fast and hard as he drew more sounds from your mouth as your jaw hung slack at the feeling. You could tell he wanted more than just a quick fuck. He wanted to mate, to breed, to claim. You couldn’t let him.

One hand wove in your hair, tugging lightly as he thrust as the other hand made its way back to your chest to grope and squeeze while the claws scraped gently against your nipple. It felt so good, he was making it hard to think of anything but his cock thrusting savagely inside of you, the sound of skin against skin piercing through the quiet night air of the forest as his thrusts started to get harder, moving you roughly against the forest floor before he growled in annoyance at this, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you up to bounce on his cock instead.

“I can’t wait to watch you take my knot.”

He held you up by your hips, pounding into you as he forced you up and down on his cock with rabid strength, your chest bouncing freely in the air as your tongue lolled out of your mouth from sheer pleasure. You felt his hips start to stutter as he chased his end, clearly getting close.

“You can’t knot me. I can’t-” He silenced you with a hand around your throat.

“Without a mating bite I can’t breed you, kitten.” He squeezed your neck tighter. “And you won’t tell me yes.” He whined before a loud pant escaped his bitten lips.

He growled out roughly into your ear as he came and the sheer possessiveness of the sound accompanied by his knot and firm grip had you lost in the moment. You squirted roughly all over his cock, unable to hold it anymore as your vision went white and you almost went limp as he bit again at the back of your neck, hips stroking into you a time or two more before you felt a large knot swell and lock him in place, causing you to gasp and squirm a bit before he grunted and held you still, licking once more at the shallow teeth marks he’d left before nuzzling into you as you panted and leaned against him, reaching up and scratching behind one of the ears.

“For now, you are mine,” he growled, moving your hair out of your face, removing some rogue leaves and twigs. “In the morning, you will be mine no more.”

You faded into blackness in his arms as the words left his mouth.

The next time you awoke, it was daylight. You had a t-shirt and sweatpants on that were not yours and the earth below you where you slept was damp. Your crossbow and flashlight were laying against a nearby tree and it was then you realized what you were supposed to be doing now and what transpired last night.

“Oh shit!!” you yelled as you gathered your things and began to run to look for any traces of the monsters. “I let him get away.”

As you looked down you saw a signature carved lightly into your arm. It read ‘Bam.’

You knew the hybrid was long gone and finding him would be difficult until the full moon on halloween. You had to let him go for now. You didn’t even know how far of a head start he had or how long you had been out for.

You cursed under your breath and headed into the nearby town, thinking you had a moment alone during the run there to sort out your thoughts. 

Little did you know, you were far from alone.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hello My Lovelies!!!!

I am back with a new series for halloween!!! Are y’all excited??? Who do you think I made what monster/creature? I’d love to know who you think is next and what they are.

Let me know! Comments are always appreciated <3

~LoLo

#got7 #into the night #got7 smut #bam bam #bambam #bam bam smut #bambam smut #kunpimook #kunpimook bhuwakul #yugyummygot7reactions #werewolf

[tigerkirby215]

5e Viego, the Ruined King build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

What? Did you expect me not to make this? It’s the goddamn Ruined King! He’s finally out after all these years! I mean sure he’s a goddamn twink but still; he’s finally out! Also Samira build is coming out 35 years from now.

And even though I put a Warlock TikTok meme in my last video, here’s a whole bunch of them because... yeah no shit he’s a Hexblade... Of the Ruined King.

GOALS

Ruin to all! - MIST'S EDGE: Basic attacks deal a percentage of the target's current health bonus physical damage on-hit.

Serve me in death - If you ever wanted to play as the enemy for a bit Viego will let you take a ghost or two; as a treat.

The mist is my great unending sadness - Foggy days are typical for an edgy boy, and King Ruin is so edgy he wants to cover the entire world with fog! Yeah that “mist is sadness” quote is real; I got it from the Wiki.

RACE

Viego is a human... but he has a great degree of variance. We’ll be going for yet another Variant Human because we’re not allowed any monster champions anymore. As a Variant Human you get a +1 in two different stats of your choice: increase your Charisma and Strength by 1 for the strength to be beautiful for your queen. You also get proficiency in a skill of your choice: Perception will let you see through the mist and search far-and-wide for your queen. And you get a language of your choice: Abyssal seems reasonable to speak to the mist.

Of course the main appeal of Variant Human is the feat at level 1, and to swing the Blade of the Ruined King Great Weapon Master will let you cut through a percentage of the enemy’s health! When you make a melee attack with a heavy weapon (such as a greatsword), you can choose to take a -5 penalty to your hit chance. If you do hit you’ll do an extra 10 damage with your strike! And as an added bonus when you score a critical hit (with a melee weapon) or kill a creature, you can make one melee weapon attack as a bonus action!

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - League of shirtless anime boys amIrite? Gotta look good for Isolde.

14; DEXTERITY - Repeat after me: “something something Medium Armor.”

13; STRENGTH - This is a requirement for another one of the classes we’ll be taking. Yup this isn’t just straight 20 levels in Hexblade!

12; CONSTITUTION - A ruined king with a blackened heart is still allowed to have some health.

10; WISDOM - Destroying the entire planet just to simp for your wife isn’t the wisest move.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Nor is it the smartest.

BACKGROUND

You were the king of a long-forgotten nation, so unfortunately noble wouldn’t work. But you still have servants! The Knight background grants proficiency in the History that you lived through as well as Persuasion to get Isolde back. You also get proficiency with a Gaming Set and Language of your choice, which I’d say pick your fancy.

But the main reason we’re taking Knight (and not Noble) is for Retainers! You get three knights sworn to your kingdom (Kalista, Hecarim, and the third one) who will do mundane tasks for you. While Hecarim may be up for a slaughter unfortunately your retainers can’t do anything in combat and won’t follow you into dangerous locations. And of course if you treat your subjects poorly they will leave you. But it can always be useful to have more spirits in the mist to search for her!

(Artwork by @thejenneralchen on Twitter)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - PALADIN 1

Hah! Did you think we’d be starting with Warlock? Put simply we need things from Paladin more, notably the proficiencies as well as starting equipment. Dude imagine having to spend 3200 gold to buy the sword literally named after you? But for now you might just want to grab a Longsword to start. Regardless Paladins get proficiency in two skills from the Paladin list: Athletics are required in the jungle, and Intimidation will let everyone meet know that you will stop at nothing for her! You fucking simp...

You also get Divine Sense to sense the beasts of the mist, or your queen. As an action you can know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the creature type, but not its identity. Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated. (Have a feeling you’ll find a lot of desecrated areas.) You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier plus 1, and regain all uses at the end of a Long Rest.

And you can restore a bit of health thanks to Lay on Hands. You have a pool of healing equal to 5 times your Paladin level that comes back at the end of a Long Rest. You can heal a creature for any number of hitpoints from that pool as an action when you touch them, or cure a disease / poison affecting them with 5 hitpoints. Man that would’ve been useful a couple of thousand years ago, huhn?

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

Time to pick up the Sword of the Ruler of the Mist. Hm... There has to be a better way of saying that. Regardless Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to get a comedically large sword that saps peoples’ lifeforce we’ll be opting for the one, the only Hexblade patron! As a Hex Warrior you can wield martial weapons as well as medium armor (which you already could cause Paladin), but can also choose to swing a sword with your Charisma instead of your Strength or Dexterity. Which is great because you’re not exactly the buff sort. Unfortunately you can’t use a two-handed greatsword just yet, which is why I said you’d do good to grab a longsword instead.

But if you are locked in combat Hexblade’s Curse will make sure that you can dispose of them quickly. As a bonus action you can mark a target for 1 minute. During that time you do bonus damage equal to your proficiency bonus to the cursed target, crit on a 19 or a 20, and regain hit points equal to your warlock level + your Charisma modifier when you kill them. The curse ends early if the target dies, you die, or you are incapacitated.

And of course as a Warlock you get Pact Magic. You learn two cantrips and two leveled spells: Eldritch Blast will let you manipulate the mists for a ranged attack, and Prestidigitation will help you keep clean and kingly despite all the black mist flowing out of that gaping stab wound in your chest. As for leveled spells Armor of Agathys will let you put on some Thornmail to keep your health up and hit your foes back, and I mean Shield is on the Hexblade expanded spell list anyways so we may as well use it.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get Eldritch Invocations as the mist manipulates your body and soul. For now take Devil’s Sight to see through your Harrowed Path with your dumb human eyes, and we’ll be leaving the other invocation slot open for a level.

You also get another spell but all the other first level spells don’t really interest me. Yeah we’re not taking Hex you’re going to have to live with it!

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get their Pact Boon for a particular tool of the Warlock trade, and to wield a weapon of spectral steel grab Pact of the Blade! The long and short of it is you can make yourself any melee weapon, and Hex Warrior affects any weapon you summon with this feature! This means that you can actually wield a two-handed Greatsword, but feel free to choose other options. Especially now that you can take the Improved Pact Weapon invocation to turn that Cutlass of the Twink King into a +1 weapon, and also summon yourself a gun (shortbow / longbow / light crossbow / heavy crossbow) if you so desire. But I mean, why would you when you have Eldritch Blast?

You can also add some second level spells to your list like Darkness to walk a Harrowed Path through the mist, though remember that even if you can see through the mist your allies probably can’t. And Misty Step, because something something Flash.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 4

4th level means the first of many Ability Score Improvements. Charisma is used for everything that you do so... maybe increase that?

You also get another spell and another cantrip! For your cantrip Mage Hand is helpful to manipulate the mist to grab things from high places. As for leveled spells Blur is on the Hexblade list... but why would you take that instead of Mirror Image, which doesn’t require Concentration.

(Artwork by @WetHamster1 on Twitter)

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get more Eldritch Invocations. To knock a foe down with Spectral Maw take Eldritch Smite, letting you channel a spell slot into a particularly deadly slash of your Viego’s Edge.

If you want an extra attack early you can also replace Improved Pact Weapon with Thirsting Blade, which is now available. But we will be getting Extra Attack from other sources later.

You can also now learn third level spells like Vampiric Touch for a bit of lifesteal. As a treat.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Hexblades can put their passive to work, and have spirits serve your Sovereign's Domination. Accursed Specter lets you use the soul of a humanoid you killed and make it serve you, using the stats of a specter with temporary hit points equal to half your Warlock level and a bonus to hit equal to your Charisma modifier. The specter remains in your service until the end of your next long rest, which is good because you can use the ability once per Long Rest. The specter rolls initiative separately from you, and obeys your commands.

And hey: you’ve already got ghosts fighting for you, so why not summon your depression to fight as well? Summon Shadowspawn from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything (requires a 300 gold gemstone containing tears and) summons a spirit of Fury, Despair, or Fear to fight alongside you. There’s a lot of specifics to this spell that I don’t want to go into (its actual description does a far better job than I ever could) but the important thing to note is that it’ll give you another loyal follower.

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 2

Time for a few levels in that other class we have. Second level Paladins can choose their Fighting Style and of course to swing a Shank of the Former Blessed Isles Great Weapon Fighting (style) will let you reroll low die to more reliably cut through the mists.

Paladins also get Spellcasting at level 2, and unlike with Warlock casting you actually get some spell slots! You can prepare a number of spells equal to your Charisma modifier plus half your Paladin level (rounded down.) Divine Favor will let you do a bit more damage with your titular blade, and if you want more of a burst of damage then either Thunderous Smite or Wrathful Smite will do some more damage along with additional effects. To protect yourself from the mists and others who’d want to keep you from Isolde take Protection from Evil and Good. And to borrow a death realm from the other world-ending lord of Runeterra take Compelled Duel.

Of course you could ignore all that spellcasting stuff for even more Damage of the Ruined Blade! Divine Smite will let you do 2d8 damage with a first level spell slot, plus an additional 1d8 per spell slot above first, up to a maximum of 5d8 (with a 4th level slot.) Additionally if you hit an undead or fiend you’ll do an extra d8, meaning that with a 4th level spell slot you can do 6d8 damage!

The real neat thing is that this works with Smite spells as well as the Eldritch Smite invocation, allowing you to effectively use two spell slots at once to smite if you so desire.

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 3

3rd level Paladins get to choose their Divine Oath and nothing will stop your Oath of Conquest to save your queen. You get to add the Command spell to your spell list, as well as Armor of Agathys... Uh woups. Uh we’ll address that when we go back to Warlock.

You get two Channel Divinity options: to keep others from stopping you from reaching your queen Conquering Presence will let you force a Wisdom save on units of your choice within 30 feet to frighten them! Alternatively Guided Strike is like Great Weapon Master but in reverse, giving you +10 to hit. This means that if you use Great Weapon Master as well you’d have a +5 to hit and do +10 damage! But remember that you only have one Channel Divinity per short rest.

You also get Divine Health, because simps don’t take sick days.

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement, and we still use Charisma for basically everything so with this you can cap it off completely!

You can also prepare two more spells but... there isn’t much I want from first level? I mean you can take Cure Wounds for a bit of healing... as treat.

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins get an Extra Attack. If you took Thirsting Blade from Warlock you might want to replace that too.

You can also prepare second level Paladin spells now! As a Conquest Paladin you get Hold Person to stun with Spectral Maw, and Spiritual Weapon for more soldiers from the mist. You can also prepare Aid to strengthen your army and Branding Smite to see your foes through the mist.

(Artwork by @vmatbox on Twitter)

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 7

Back to Warlock to replace a lot of things. But firstly you get another Eldritch Invocation: take Trickster's Escape for an emergency QSS.

You also get 4th level spells like Shadow of Moil to become a creature of the mist, and also to get an upgrade from the Darkness spell (which you might want to replace.) Speaking of replacing spells: you got Armor of Agathys from Paladin so replace it with Hallucinatory Terrain to cover the land with mist.

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement or a Feat. We’ll be taking the Eldritch Adept feat for more Eldritch Invocations. Which Eldritch Invocation? Why Undying Servitude of course, for more servants of the mist!

D&D Beyond tip: Replace Devil’s Sight and then give yourself 120 feet of Darkvision on the sheet.

You can also get another 4th level spell like Dimension Door, to travel far and wide in a flash to reach your queen.

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 9

Hey more Eldritch Invocations! Whispers of the Grave will let you speak to the fragments of Isolde’s soul.

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 10

And hey: 5th level spells finally! To strike a foe with Heartbreaker take 

Negative Energy Flood, sundering their health and making them rise to serve you if you end up killing them.

10th level Hexblades get Armor of Hexes. If the target affected by your Hexblade’s Curse hits you with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to roll a d6. On a 4 or higher, the attack instead misses you, regardless of its roll. Naturally this ability makes you particularly good in a 1v1 with whoever you target for Ruination.

You don’t get another spell but you do get a cantrip. Take Toll the Dead to deal with enemies who have high armor, for the mist comes for all.

(Artwork by @stingrae36 on Twitter)

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 11

11th level Warlocks get their 6th level Mystic Arcanum, which looks like a spell slot and acts like a spell slot (IE it comes back after a Long Rest, not a Short one) but can’t be used to upcast your other spells. You can only use it to cast one spell, and for an AoE Heartbreaker take good ol’ Circle of Death.

Also more spells known from your regular Warlock slots: Banishing Smite is on the Hexblade list, and can be used to send any demons back to whence they came.

LEVEL 17 - WARLOCK 12

12th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement or a Feat. I have no idea what else to grab so take the Tough feat for a much needed 24 hitpoint increase to a primarily melee-based character.

You also get another Eldritch Invocation so it’s finally time to get the true Blade of the Ruined King damage with Lifedrinker! This will make any foe struck by your Pact Weapon take an additional 5 necrotic damage. This means that you should be doing 2d6 + 11 damage with every swing of a (+1) Greatsword!

LEVEL 18 - WARLOCK 13

More Mystic Arcanum, this time at 7th level! Power Word Pain will let you subjugate the weak.

And more regular spells: Danse Macabre lets you get more servants forever loyal at your side!

LEVEL 19 - WARLOCK 14

14th level Hexblades are Master of Hexes. Put simply: when a creature affected by Hexblade’s Curse dies, you can apply the curse to a different creature you can see within 30 feet of you. (Though you won’t be healed for the last foe’s death.) This will let you bounce your curse around and reap all its benefits constantly, becoming a master of your own blade.

LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 15

Our last level is the 15th level of Warlock for a handful of benefits. Firstly we can get an 8th level Mystic Arcanum: Feeblemind is the ultimate tool to truly sunder the weak and discard the chaff.

Secondly you can get your level 15 Eldritch Invocations, and to never mistake Isolde’s face Witch Sight will let you see through any illusion that may be hiding her!

You may also want to replace Improved Pact Weapon as by this point you’ve likely found something better than a regular old +1 greatsword. Visions of Distant Realms and Shroud of Shadows are both very good options.

And we can finally get our last spell: as you gather enough information on the new world Scrying will help you expand your search further beyond!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Surrender to me! - Two smites plus Great Weapon Master on an already deadly blade results in absolutely devastating spikes of damage with your sword. God forbid you crit!

The black mist flows from me like a tide - You also have plenty of tricks to give you an upper hand in longer combats. Hexblade’s Curse of course, but also Armor of Agathys, Shadow of Moil, and Spiritual Weapon.

Fight, puppet; fight for your king! - You can summon all manner of ghosts, ghouls, skeletons, zombies, and everything in between to serve in your search for your queen.

CONS

The world denied my happiness - Low ability scores mean that your skills won’t be amazing. The ones you’re proficient in are alright but you aren’t much help outside of being deadly and being royal.

Answer for your crimes, death; answer me! - We didn’t take the 6th level of Paladin which means we didn’t get Aura of Protection. As a result your saving throws are rather low, and while I tried to avoid grabbing too many Concentration spells yo do still have quite a few, which is not at all helped by your meager +1 to CON.

She remains in this world; I can feel it - All the melee tools in the world don’t mean much when you lack any proper way to get close. You have Eldritch blast sure but beyond Dimension Door (which granted is very strong) enemies can easily keep their distance from the mad king with a big blade. Even if you want to use Dimension Door you have a very limited amount of spell slots.

But the world can only hide from the Ruination for so long. The black mist comes, and with it you come to search for your queen. Nothing can stop you; nothing will stop you until you have her again. The world shall be torn to shreds and shattered beyond repair, as long as you can have your queen... Or like, just find a Wish spell or something? Shame you’re a couple thousand years old because True Resurrection doesn’t even work anymore.

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Viego #League of Legends Ruined King #Ruined King #LoL Ruined King #Blade of the Ruined King #dnd warlock

[acrowamongsparrows]

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI (or if they don’t have a love interest, their best friend. If you don’t want to do a drabble, describe their first meeting instead!)

🌗 Early mornings or late nights? What do they spend their time doing during these hours?

🌼- Duncan Waycrest

Duncan raised his hands slowly, his eyes trained on the man before him. "This is a mistake."

"The only mistake," replied the crossbow wielding man as he kept his aim steady to the creature before. "Is you still being here."

"I don't understand. I mean no harm, I'm only passing through. I swear it."

"The three dead women from uptown, suggest otherwise," the man kept his sight trained on him, as he began to slowly reach down into the bandoleer of bottles around his chest.

Duncan tilted his head with the strangest of looks to his face. Concern. "What?"

"You remember? Three women, drained of blood, and left with their throats slashed wide," the man spoke clearly and calmly, finally fingering an odd shaped curved bottle.

"No I don't."

"Bloodlust, this will be a mercy then."

"No, I mean," Duncan slowly lowered his hands. "Wait please, my name is Duncan Waycrest. I've only recently come to this town, I swear to you, I don't know anything about what you speak."

The crossbowman held firm as he watched the vampire, his face grim. "Why should I believe you?"

Duncan spread his hands wide. "I am unarmed. And I promise you, your crossbow would not be enough to stop if I so chose it."

"Is that a threat?"

"No," Duncan continued as he tried his best to remain calm and peaceful. "But it is the truth. I am stranger here and have been lost for quite some time. Please, once again name is Duncan Waycrest. And you are?"

Lowering the crossbow slowly with a snort of his nose, the man let the bow rest at his side though kept the vial in the other hand at the ready. "My name is Eldridge."

"You're a witcher," Duncan said as he tapped near his eyes.

"And you're a vampire."

"In a sense," Duncan now stood a few meters from Eldridge, his palms open and hands wide. "Please, I did not kill those women."

The witcher didn't always know how much emotion he was showing but he knew his face clearly spoke mistrust and knowledge of the danger they each posed to one another.

"Perhaps I can help you track down the true killers in this crime."

"Why?"

"I'm," Duncan signed and lowered his hands fully now. "I'm lost. In just as much a sense as direction as in spirit."

"You're lonely?" Eld now was the one to be confused as he watched the vampire.

"Immortality is not exactly what they make it out to be," Duncan explained as he lowered his head, a defeated look coming to the creature. Almost human.

"So where do I come in?"

Duncan looked up with a slight smile. "Well Eldridge, let's start by finding your leeches."

🌗 - Early Morning

Eld lowered himself down with a sigh upon the floor of his house, his back hurt and his leg did as well. Long hours with hammer and flame had a way of both cleansing the mind and the body. Not always in the best order though.

Gingerly folding his lame leg with his other, the witcher slowly close his eyes and breathe deeply. In and out. Deep from the nose, out from the mouth. Calming his mind, heart, and body as he took in deep breathes of the cool air of his room. He felt out from his spot on the dirt floor, feeling the cold of the early morning hours of unwarmed earth. Blocking out the aches and pains, separating himself from his reality to the place within his mind.

Deep breath in. Exhale out.

Calm rushed over Eldridge as he sat in quiet mediation, his hands coming to rest on his bare knees as he focused on his breathing. As the calm settled on him, his mind would begin to separate from the active to the inactive eventually finding a steady rhythm in his chest. For 20 minutes he sat and breathed, always a deep in and a long out as he felt almost human again.

And then his knuckles would be cracked as he stretched his fingers, the old drills coming back to him easily as he practiced his handwork. Forming the signs with practiced ease, switch each hand and doing it again. Most witchers would drill with blades and fencing. With his injury the dance of steel left him truly with two left feet. But the school did not give up on him, and he certainly did not on them.

Quen. Aard. Igni. Axii. Yrden.

Each hand gesture different. Each known by heart. Joints would pop and crack as he worked through them, reaching a steady rhytm before coming to a close with a crossing of his wrists and a final exhale.

Heliotrope.

"Time for work."

@jacobdcheshyre

#ask answered #eldridge of kovir #duncan waycrest #training #first meetings #witcher #vampyr #friends in low places #witcher oc #roleplay

[inspirationdivine]

Predator and Fae|| Lydia and Kaden

Time: Current Parties: @chasseurdeloup @inspirationdivine Summary: After the basement humans, the full moon, and Regan’s dad, Kaden decides it is time to act.  Warnings: body horror, gun use, domestic abuse mention

Kaden knew he should have had a plan. Ari told him they would make a plan, go in prepared, but he couldn’t wait any longer, not after what Regan had told him, not after what he learned. There was no plan. Nothing but anger. It had simmered low when he was with Regan, but it built up again, boiling and rumbling and spilling over with each step through the woods. Anger that drove him to dig through the back of his closet and pull out the iron, anger that guided his steps towards the town, watching for any sign of her, anger that brought him to follow her as she made her way towards the woods. Good. The woods were practically his home. He grew up learning to fight monsters in the woods. This would be just like any other time. No, that wasn’t true. This time he wasn’t just fighting for himself. Or even humanity. No, this time he was fighting for Regan, Ariana, the countless humans she’d trapped in that basement. If he was supposed to kill the “bad ones,” he had no doubt in his mind now that Lydia was a “bad one.” He kept a good number of paces behind her, picked his way through the woods. He had no plan once they got there, deeper and deeper into the forests. He should go for stealth, keep his advantage. Anger didn’t let him. Anger reached into his holster and pulled out the pistol and shot. He was pretty sure it didn’t hit. It’s not like he aimed. 

 The weight of the last month hung heavy around her chest and rang in her ears - literally. Lydia wanted or needed to let go completely, shed all of that dead weight and surround herself with the only people who could really accept her: other fae, every bit as fae as her. The air tonight contained the last remnants of mushroom spores, calling her home, but Lydia was looking for a different one tonight. Her skin glowed faintly as she hiked out through the trees to find a puddle that might take her to the other side of town, to a kinder, more understanding kind of people while she healed. She was so deep into the forest by now that her wings could hang free too, unrestrained by magic. If there was any warning to hear, Regan’s scream ensured she couldn’t hear it, not until the night air was split open by gun fire. With a shrill yell, Lydia jumped behind a tree, extinguishing her skin and she reached in her purse for her own pistol. What the fuck?

 Looking at her there was no mistaking what she was. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t even like Regan, fae or not. She was something else entirely, something inhuman. It was funny, in the past it was her appearance that would disgust Kaden the most, how very different and monstrous she appeared. The echoes of Regan’s wings he saw in hers only made his blood boil more. She knew. She knew what Regan was and she forced those wings on her without so much as a warning. She killed her father, would have gladly killed him and tormented so many others and felt no remorse. None. It didn’t matter what she looked like; she was rotten inside. Something truly loathsome and disgusting. Kaden shot again, aiming for a wing, the bit that was peeking out from behind the tree. “Why?” he shouted at her, taking several steps closer, gun raised and ready to fire again, feet positioned to run or duck depending on what came next. “Why did you do it?” His words were laced with venom, he wasn’t even sure what answer he was looking for anymore. The anger coursing through his veins barley let him see straight, let alone think clearly. 

 Kaden. Lydia’s heart jumped into the throat, filling her mouth with toxin heavy saliva. She glamoured her wings out of sight, pressing herself harder against the tree trunk. She wrapped her fingers around the cool brass barrel of her own pistol and whimpered as he fired another pistol. A hunter. Not a warden, maybe, possibly, if only because he wouldn’t be dating Regan- unless that was also a trap. Lydia pressed her fist against her lips and counted to three in her head before pointing her pistol around the tree to the sound of his voice and fired back. She needed to get out of reach, Lydia looked around desperately, squeezing the trigger twice more before bolting out of her hiding spot to a thicker, older tree with lower branches. In the dark, he might not notice the nearby mushroom circles until it was too late. If she could get him there, or sneak behind him and spit, or just run… She could do this, she’d have to. Lydia held her hand against her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her whimper.

 The wings faded away and Kaden cursed under his breath. For a moment, he wondered if she had disappeared entirely, even though he was certain that was not how fae magic worked. He heard the gun before he saw it and threw himself out of the way. Fucking fae with a gun. Didn’t they have enough power, enough enhancements and advantages of their own? Kaden pushed himself off of the ground and listened, trying to place everything around him sonically. He cautiously moved his fingers along the pistol, making sure it was cocked and ready to fire at any second should she dare show her face. No movement. “I just want to talk,” he said, attempting to soften his voice, but it remained raw and ragged with fury. Probably because he wanted to do more than talk. He wanted answers but he wanted to make sure the pain ended here. He inched ahead, taking slow steps as silently as he could. He was pretty sure he heard her pounding heartbeat just ahead and he swung wide, hoping to catch her from the side. 

 Lydia could barely make out what he was saying, but considering the recent gunshots, she really wasn’t sure it was important. Survive, don’t talk. Lydia trembled against the tree, slowly twisting until her front was facing it, not her back. She couldn’t hear him at all, couldn’t see him anywhere, so Lydia had to pray as she opened up her wings again and flew herself up into the branches, landing on the first almost silently before hopping up to the second. She spit into her hand, smearing it on each branch as she went, just in case he did spot her and could somehow give chase. Once she felt high enough, Lydia began to look for a tree to fly to, to get out of his reach. She just had to get back to her car and get the fuck out of here. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut as she trembled, before forcing herself to move again.  

 Kaden saw her and sent shots firing right at her wings as she fluttered up into the trees. Fuck. She kept climbing. Was he really going to climb a fucking tree after a fae? He thought about it for a moment, but what was he even going to do from up there? Aiming would be harder, balance would be out of the question even if he did get in range to use a knife. No, he’d just aim better, concentrate closer. He watched through the trees and unloaded the rest of the round where he saw movement. “You killed Regan’s father,” he said as he tossed the gun back in the holster, bullets unloaded for the moment. “You tried to kill me and Ariana. Why? Did you think you’d get away with it?” he asked as he pulled the crossbow off his back, iron tipped bolts ready and loaded. He crouched down and aimed up at the branches, looking for the movement of her wings, listening, too. Exhaled, he was confident it would hit, and let bolt after bolt fire up through the trees. If he was lucky, one would rip right through her wing. 

 Lydia had leant forward, ready to launch herself in flight into the next tree, when the branch in front of her shattered, throwing splinters all over her. Jerking back, Lydia shrank herself down as much as the bark around her exploded with fire after fire. One whistled past her ear, another hit the branch right under her hand, driving a sharp shard of wood into her palm. Lydia screamed and barely suppressed a sob, but the gunfire stopped. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t let him corner her like she had let the vampire before. This couldn’t be a repeat. Lydia straightened and ran along the branch, throwing open her wings to catch her as she threw herself at the next tree. She didn’t hear whatever hit her, only felt a lightning bolt of heat shred through her left wing. Lydia spun in the air as she lost altitude, misfiring twice before careening to the left and crashing into the ground. Coughing as the impact winded her, Lydia glamoured her wings back out of sight to shrink the target, rolling to look at Kaden who was suddenly far too close. Her mouth wet, she spat right for his face before scrabbling to her feet and collapsing behind a tree, a scream held trapped between her teeth. Already, the stress was beginning to break her glamour, the heat of iron searing through her focus. Any sense of direction was lost, but Lydia breathed in deeply, tasting the spores. She could only follow the call to the circle now, and hope he followed. 

 The sounds above him all but confirmed he hit her somewhere. Then there was the thud of a body hitting the ground. Kaden didn’t waste a second and darted towards the sound, loading another bolt as he went. He knew full well that leanan-sidhe pheromones lived in their saliva, they were dangerous, usually transferred by kiss. There were reports in the hunter journals he’d combed through about spitting fae. He thought they were lying but here she was, proving him otherwise. He sidestepped and the saliva splattered on his shoulder, dripping down his jacket. He snarled in disgust and nearly went to wipe it off with his bare hand. No. Skin contact was all it took. He rolled his shoulders back and carried on. He’d been covered in far worse in his years of hunting. A little spit wasn’t going to slow him down. He ran after her, following the sounds of her breathing, there were barely any of her footsteps. The glamour was fading. Good. It made what he had to do easier. Much. In more ways than one. He was close. She was just within reach. He lunged out for her wing. At first his fingers fumbled, the wings fading away, the glamour making them intangible. He ran faster, pushed himself a pace farther and tried again. This time his bandaged hand wrapped around the wing, what he could get of it, at least, and he yanked down on the piece of her that he had in his grasp.

 Her legs burned with exertion as she ran, kicking up leaves behind her hiking boots as Lydia tried to keep trees between him and her, giving him a harder target. Her lungs had nearly ruptured just days ago, and no amount of supernatural life force would heal her fast enough. The world was muffled - she could almost never hear her own footsteps, but now she could barely hear his. Lydia whipped her head around and grimaced at how close he was, pushing her legs even harder through the burn, the feverish heat in her wings, everything, only to choke as she jerked to a hard stop, her wing joint popping out of place. Lydia cried out as she was yanked back and thrown to the ground, rolling over to point her gun at Kaden’s chest, looking right up at the shining iron bolt in the weapon in his other hand. Lydia didn’t give him a chance to shoot first, pushing herself up with the other arm as she fired. 

 There was a reason why Kaden jogged every morning even though he hated it, why he kept his weapons clean and ready, why he practiced  his aim over and over again in the woods, and why he’d trained for years. It was for moments like this. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his lungs heaved but the pain didn’t bother him. All it did was push him forward, force him to find the rhythm of the hunt. It had been a while since he was there in this space. That spot where it was nothing but adrenaline and instinct carrying him and the certainty that he was going to make his mark. He’d got her, but not for long. And when she rolled over, he was keenly aware that he should have considered Walker’s method of wearing kevlar out in the field. Fuck. He let loose the crossbow bolt as soon as he saw the pistol raised towards him, throwing himself forward and to side away from the bullet. He roared with pain as he toppled onto the forest floor against branches and rocks. He pushed himself up and used the pain and adrenaline spilling out from him to throw himself at her, hoping to tackle her to the ground and pin her down. Maybe then he could get some fucking answers. 

 The bolt split through her coat, tearing through the muscle of her arm. The burn spread through her like wildfire, paralysing her torso as the iron burn made it hard to breath. Adrenaline pounded through Lydia as she got her knees under her, only for the air to be knocked out of her as the mass of Kaden sent her sprawling, crushing her under his weight. She couldn’t quite reach his face as she dug her nails into his arms where she could, scratching him where she could. Lydia kicked out underneath her, trying to leverage him off of her with little success. Lydia pulled her glamour in tight even as the iron tore at the shreds of her control. “No, stop, get off-” Lydia hissed, before flashing her skin as bright as she could, turning her whole body into a flickering strobe, her light reflecting off the canopy above them. At once, she pulled hard through her hands at the ley lines of his life force. She couldn’t take much, but Lydia was grasping for everything. 

 Kaden grit his teeth, bit back against the stinging spreading across his forearms. He dug his knee into her side, doing what he could to pin her down as he braced his arm and pushed it down towards her neck even as she fought against him every step of the way. “No,” he said back, voice almost a growl. “Not until you--” Any illusion she was human or close to it faded away as she dropped her glamour. His vitriol would have to wait as he flinched away and shut his eyes, instinctively covering his face with his arm. Fuck, there went his advantage. Before he could reach out and try to pin her down again, she was on him. And he could feel his energy slipping away. His grip was slipping and he could feel his muscles growing weak. No. He wasn’t giving up now. He pushed ahead, forced past the shaking muscles and tried to turn her over, keep her face away from his. The wings would be in the way. That was fine. He’d work around it. “Why? What fucking reason,” he pushed out, ever word a struggle, “could you possibly have for any of this?! Any of it!?” 

 Lydia screamed bloody murder as he forced her onto her belly, blood smearing across his clothes and the forest floor as she flailed and kicked out. He pressed against her bloody wing and the pain slammed into her so hard she saw stars. She tried to twist to spit but couldn’t get any grip. Lydia needed to be smarter than this. “Can’t- Can’t- Barely breathe,” Lydia spluttered, not entirely truthfully, but she needed to get her arms under her. She needed a single mistake to make use of the strength feeding had given her. She squirmed all the same. Lying still would be giving up, would be surrendering herself to whatever wretched torture device he had hidden in her pants. A frantic tear slipped her cheek as she smacked her wings against his body, but those muscles weren’t built for moving tall human men. She flashed her skin harder and faster, digging her fingers into the ground to find some kind of purchase before whipping her head back, grunting as she smacked his face with her head, and used that to attempt to squirm out from underneath him, trying to work out where she’d dropped her gun in all this, if she could even get him off her. She wasn’t going to die to an uncivilised French brute.

 Kaden twisted and pushed down, gripping with every bit of strength he could muster to keep her pinned to the ground. “Barely is still breathing,” he snarled. Her wings spastically twitched and tried to free themselves from under his grip. He took hold of the base of one and yanked it, twisting it to the side. It wasn’t enough to sever the connection, but he knew it had to hurt like hell. The only other set of wings he’d touched even remotely similar were Regan’s. He usually left the more human looking fae to wardens. For a split second the wings weren’t Lydia’s they were Regan’s. He saw his bandaged hands and all he could see was her. Was it a glamour or his imagination? His hold on her loosened ever slightly. But it was enough. “Fuck!” he shouted as her head slammed into his. His nose hurt like hell and he was sure if it wasn’t gushing blood, it should be. He wanted to wipe it away with his forearm but there was no time, she was going to get away. He climbed to his hands and knees before he reached out for a limb, any limb, feet, arms, wings, whatever he could get. He grabbed onto a wrist and wrenched her arm towards him, rotated it and held it taught just long enough to bring his foot around and slam his heel down right on her forearm. The bones cracked and he hoped they shattered to pieces and fragments, one for every fucking life she’d taken. 

 The iron burn in her arm ate into her like necrotic tissue, turning her strength to rot. Random twigs scratching her palms and knees, as she crawled through the mud and the bugs. Her injured wing drooped closer and closer to the ground as the burn there made her feverish, shrinking down the world to an ever-smaller cone of vision. Each breath of air threatened to choke her as Lydia tried to get away from this monster. Lydia felt his fingers on her once and managed to jerk away, but the second time wasn’t so lucky. He pulled at her uninjured arm, and as he did the burned one took all her weight - and failed. Lydia collapsed with a yell, trying to twist and kick at him. He had trained for this, she thought sickly, he had trained for decades at how to dodge kicks and brutalise terrified creatures. His whole life was dedicated to destruction. How there was anything worth loving in him was a goddamn mystery. Lydia twisted and jerked and couldn’t quite work out what he was doing until he brought his foot down on her arm. Lydia flinched away, shutting her eyes as the bone snapped underneath his leg. A scream tore through her throat as she crumpled, tears streaming down her face, smearing through the dirt. “Stop-” Lydia groaned, “Please, stop…” His face was rage incarnate as she looked up at him in the dark, a hellish inferno. All hunters worked for the devil. And yet, the mushroom spores were thick in the air. Lydia kicked at his chest, and crawled the last little stretch, into one of the last mushroom circles. Come get me now, you piece of human shit. 

 Her words didn’t have any effect on him. Kaden wouldn’t let them. They couldn’t be used as a weapon now. Not through binding nor manipulation; magical or otherwise. She could beg or plead all she wanted, but she didn’t deserve his mercy. And he didn’t plan on granting it simply because she fucking asked. “No,” he spat back at her. “Did you ever stop when they a--” The words were kicked out of his chest as she scrambled away. He gasped for air and turned towards her, pulling herself away desperately. Then pausing. Ever slightly. Like she had found safety just a few feet away from him. His eyes darted around looking for a weapon or a tree she could climb up or drop on him, what her advantage might be that imbued her with such confidence. He didn’t see it, but she was getting away, not time to check. He lunged for her, trying to grab her feet once more when he saw what his arm reached out across. A line of foliage. A very distinct line of different colors from the rest of the grass and dirt. Mushrooms. He jerked his arm back towards him, ire shooting from his gaze as he watched her inside what he had to assume was a circle. A fairy ring. Pushing himself up, Kaden took one step forward, toes at the edge of the line of mushrooms. He watched her closely, hoping to see the hope leave her eyes as he stomped down on the fungi, twisting and turning his heel to stomp them out once and for all. He had to wonder how many times she’d seen hope drain from her victim’s faces as she fed from them, tormented them. Even then, he didn’t think she had it in her to feel a fraction of it. That would require having feelings at all. 

 Lydia cradled her arm. Where the bone was shattered it bent at an unnatural angle, and as she tried to push it back into place she could barely suppress her own screams. Her other arm burned with the iron cut, flashing hot and ice cold as she tried to move it anyway. Her skin was slick with sweat and shivered from blood loss and fear as she watched him pause too. Her stomach filled with tar as he looked down, seeing something that even Lydia barely could. He brought his foot down and Lydia sobbed as her confidence was stripped out of her along with the ring’s magic. There was no solace nor joy to be found here, not anymore. Lydia stared up at the hunter, and for a long moment only saw the reaper. He was watching her too, delighting in her terror. As he was with Regan, every single day. It was hard to believe, as Lydia’s strength bled out of her with every rabbit-fast beat of her heart, that he was capable of even the simulation of love. For a second, despair took her; it would be easy to give up. Let Regan’s last scream be her death toll. Lydia’s terrified eyes flicked to an opportunity, and with a cry as she beat her shredding wings just enough to get to her feet, Lydia reached for his holster, his gun. She cried at the jagged pain of jerking her burned arm that fast, as she pointed it right at his face. Regan hadn’t screamed for her, just at her. Lydia’s finger blistered, but she didn’t flinch as she pulled the trigger. 

 Kaden was so sure when he stepped out into the forest, he would be the only one to leave. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind. If this was going to be his final stand, Regan would know. She would have screamed, she would have told him. He knew that. He had to. So he’d been brandished with confidence up until the very moment she pulled out his own gun from his holster. His eyes went wide and he tried to grab for the gun but it was too late. She had it in her hands. She pulled the trigger. He shut his eyes, braced himself, waited for the end.

 Nothing. There was nothing.

 But he was alive. Still breathing. His eyes flew open and he slammed the gun out of her hand and grabbed her broken wrist to hold her in place. He pulled out his knife with his free hand, pressed the tip of the blade to her chest. Then…

 Nothing.

 He stood there. Watched her writhe in pain and try to get away. He saw the wings flicker in and out of his line of sight, the one bent and broken like her arm. The hardness in his face started to fade, shifted to blank uncertainty. He could ask her why. He could ask her to explain herself. He could ask anything. But his resolve was dissolving. And he wasn’t sure that any answer at all would satisfy him. “Why?” The anger was no longer searing, no longer burning through him as hot as it had been. But he needed something. This had to be worth something.

 Instead of a bang that would have rattled her skull nearly as much as Regan’s scream, the gun just clicked. Lydia looked from his eyes to the barrel, but it wasn’t even smoking. Her brow furrowed in confusion, unable to fully comprehend until Kaden moved in a blur. His hand crushed her bones. It felt like an electric fire where she could feel the shard grinding against him. Lydia’s vision went black, and the blade pressed against her chest like ice. Lydia stared into it. It was all of a sudden like peace. It felt like Deirdre playing with her hair, throwing flour at Remmy as cupcakes baked in the oven, like her brother playing riddle games with her until one ended up promise bound into doing laundry for a year. It was the cold, icy grip of acceptance, in the hands of a hunter with no more cards in her hand. Even her mouth was beginning to dry up.

 Only for Kaden not to cut through her. He gave her a question, and Lydia saw the chance to do what she did best: talk. But the words out her mouth were broken and grating, more like a beggar than a master negotiator, babbling and barely coherent. “The longer I waited before she woke up, the more she would have suffered. I wanted to minimise that! She never should have suffered this much to begin with. That’s why! That’s the only reason!” Lydia sobbed, her knees buckling under the weight of her pain. She couldn’t bite back the scream that ripped through her throat, white stars erupting behind her eyelids. The world spun, the point where Kaden gripped her arm becoming a searing singularity. Her cheeks felt hot where tears stung her scraped up skin. “Please. I’ll leave. I’ll never come back, you’ll never hear from me again. Kaden, please!”

 The anger flared back and Kaden tightened his grip on her broken wrist, his knuckles throbbing under the bandage from putting his fist through the wall the other night. All the pain did was add fuel to the flames. “Then why didn’t you help her?!” he screamed. “You didn’t prepare her! You didn’t warn her! You did nothing.” It was so tempting to push the blade in. That’s all it would take to end this. “You tried to kill Ariana. A teenager. A fucking-- For what?! Pride? Vanity? What?!” A little bit of pressure was all he needed, one good shove of the knife. “Those people. All those people in your fucking basement. How many people have you killed? Tortured?!” Done. It could all be done. But he held his weapon still, clenched his jaw. He should stab her, let her bleed there, crying in pain and regretting any choice she made that led her there. She was fae. Supernatural scum. A “bad one” if he ever saw it. He ought to do what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. His duty. It would be so easy. He should kill her. No, he had to kill her. For everything she did. For everyone she--  

 His hand released like her skin burned him; took a step back like he was startled. The knife nearly dropped but he kept his fingers wrapped around it. Just in case. Just in case he got his courage back. Just in case he found who he was again. But all he could think was he didn’t want to be like her. He couldn’t be that. A monster. A murderer. The body count. The callousness. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. 

 He had to. He had to. He leaned forward on his toes, ready to finish this. The anger flowed, coursed through his veins, he was ready to end it. Ready to lunge forward. Nearly did. But instead he screamed; turned to the side, away from her. Fuck. Fuck. Why couldn’t he finish this? What was stopping him? What sort of bleeding fucking heart had he become? “You don’t deserve this,” he grumbled, back to her, knuckles going white around the grip of the knife. “You don’t deserve a single second of mercy.” Every word was dripping with venom and ire. It contained all the rage he wanted to unleash with the knife, bottled up and put into syllables. “But fucking go.” This was stupid. This was too easy. And he had no guarantee she would do as she said. None. Unless... Before she could move, he spun back to face her and reached for her wrist one last time. “Promise me,” he demanded, looking her dead in the eyes. “Promise me that I’ll never see you again. Promise me that Regan and Ariana won’t see or hear from you ever again. Not for as long as you’re breathing.” 

 Had it been like this for her sister? Kneeling in front of a hunter, begging for her life as he held a blade to her chest, his bruising grip making escape impossible. As he hesitated, Lydia should have gotten to her feet, kissed him, spat at him. She didn’t even need to reach his face, his bare hand on her arm should do. In theory Lydia was strong enough to break a man’s skull, neck, or back with her bare hands, even if she didn’t know how.  Lydia had grown up learning to bear the pain of a hundred different promises, but nothing like this. She was beginning to feel cold to the touch, and clammy, the world shrinking until she couldn’t feel the sticks under her legs or the cold air chilling her wet cheeks. There were three things that Lydia felt clearly, and that was only because they seared. There were just three things to keep her grounded.

 He screamed questions that Lydia had no answer for. She had helped, god, she opened her mouth to protest, if that was what he wanted she could list all the ways that she had helped. Instead she only sobbed openly as wave after wave of burning pain pulsed through her. It would be more bearable, Lydia thought, if he had just cut her arm off. But then he wasn’t just talking about Regan, but about something that filled her with ice.

 Kaden let her go. Lydia slumped, barely avoiding falling all the way to the forest floor. She looked up as Kaden set himself up to lunge, weakly raising her arms, her eyes pinching shut. When he screamed, it scared a scream out of Lydia too before she wept, shrinking into herself as she sobbed. “God, please, please make this stop, God, please don’t do this, I don’t-” Lydia choked on her own sobs, but still the knife didn’t come down. She could barely hear Kaden over the ringing in her ears and her own terror, but she heard the ones that mattered. Fucking go. Lydia inhaled shakily, staring up at him in confusion. She could barely make out his face enough to read it, and even then, she wasn’t sure she could recognise that expression. She was too frightened to move, and when he turned back, Lydia thought he had changed his mind. 

 She ought to have negotiated, gotten a promise out of him too. But her tongue was no longer gold but lead. There was every chance she would still die here, slowly trickling out far blood into an equally dead fairy circle. "I promise, I promise!" Lydia coughed and spluttered as the promise began to burn in her, because while he stood there, he was still seeing her. "As soon as I get to my car, I’ll-” Lydia whimpered, flinching away from the ferocity of his gaze, the callous disregard for the burn in her arm as the jagged edges of the shatter bones ground up against each other. Lydia had always known hunters could be cruel, but not like this. “I’ll leave.”

 In most instances, Kaden despised word binding. Fae magic at its finest. All it ever did was hurt people if it had any effect at all. He struggled to find any good in it, few uses. Until now. The guarantee that she would be gone from his life for good, no longer able to hurt Regan or Ariana, gone from White Crest, too, surely; it was worth it. “Fine.” It was all he said. It was all he could say. It felt like a lie searing onto his tongue. This wasn’t fine. Or okay. Or good. It wouldn’t be any of that. Ever again. Thanks to her. The pain and the suffering she caused-- She didn’t even care, did she? Didn’t see it or didn’t want to. The call for violence swelled up in him again but he pushed it back down, buried it. She wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth anything. Not his ire, not his time, not his mercy, nothing. She was nothing. And she’d remain that way. She’d promised, after all. As he turned away, guilt swirled in his stomach. What was going to stop her from doing this again? From continuing on and on down the same path? Fear? He doubted that. Guilt was out of the question. He knew she didn’t feel it. He wondered if she was capable of feeling it at all.

 There was no good reason to leave her alive. None for humanity, certainly. Nothing redeemable as far as he was concerned. But he still put his knife back in its sheath, grabbed his gun and crossbow off the forest floor, and began to slowly walk away. There was no good reason to. The only thing he could think, the only thing keeping his feet moving forward, was what he was walking away from. The thought that had bubbled to the surface, something told to him long past. He wanted to avoid one more stain on his soul. Killing her wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She couldn’t bring back what was lost. But he could walk away, out of the forest, out of the place of nightmares, and return home. 

 The moment the ants stopped crawling under her skin, the moment that he was far enough away that she wasn’t in danger of breaking her oath, Lydia fell entirely to the ground, her vision blacking out. It might have been seconds or hours before she opened her eyes again. The bruising on her arm was starting to fade where Kaden had grabbed her too tight. The burns would take weeks to heal, but she did not have weeks. Her promises were already tugging her to her feet. Lydia looked around in shell shock, at her torn clothes, the blood on the leaves, the crushed fairy ring. He had left the job half done. Another inch, and she would be dead. Lydia hiccupped back a sob as she tried to understand, tried to piece together his final sick play. That she couldn’t fit the pieces together left her untethered. She began to trudge slowly back to her car, murmuring prayers to God wiping away tears that still fell. He had just walked away. Was it for Regan? Or so that someone else could take their turn. The word ‘mercy’ flitted in her mind and was laughed out just as quickly. Another person, in a different time, would have not made this mistake. It was all Lydia could think of, between the searing pain and the path ahead. She turned it over and over, like a leaf in her hand. By the time she reached the car and collapsed against the cool metal, there was only one answer that made sense. The answer tied her back to Earth and gave her a direction. Lydia pulled her now cracked phone out of her pocket and began to make calls. She needed to leave soon. Kaden had made a fatal mistake, and Lydia would not be the one to spare him. She liked to clean up her loose ends, even on her way out of a mess.

 Kaden Langley would not survive the week. 

#para #chatzy #wickedswriting #kaden #please use spoiler tags for reactions #gun use tw #domestic abuse tw

[weirdponytail]

Eragon: Book vs Movie. Set & Scene 1

SCENE 1, SET

Brom flipped through the thick packet, one leg crossed over the other. He was sitting in a folding actors chair, a troubled expression on his face.

“Wait, so you just want me to read this?” The old man turned to the Shadow behind him. “Just, read this out loud while things happen around me?”

“Correct.”

Brom sighed. “Alright then,” he opened his mouth to begin but then closed it. One of the other lines had caught his attention. “Oh dear. She isn’t going to like that. Um, might I suggest-”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Out of nowhere, a burlap skirt came flying at high speed to promptly smack the Shadow right in region it’s face should have been. Brom sighed again and covered his face with his hands. “AND YOU CAN KEEP THIS SHIT, TOO! WHAT ARE THESE, MOULDED LEATHER TITS?!” A hard leather…shirt…thing…followed the skirt and struck with considerably more force, two rocks falling out of the moulded…breast region.

The elder Dragon Rider followed the trajectory of the clothing to see Arya fuming on set, wearing her usual leathers instead of the movie getup their employers had insisted on. Durza was a few strides behind her, howling with laughter at the ‘torture’ the directors were putting the elf through. He was practically crying, braced on his knees. Every time he seemed to be close to stopping, the shade would glance at the script of the first scene and start up again.

“Arya, come on.” Brom started. “I know it’s demeaning, and your mother will probably kill all of us involved if you don’t get to us first, but it’s only a few minutes for this scene. Then you can get back in your clothes and, as a bonus, your contract says you can kick Durza in his nether regions after every take.”

Durza stopped laughing.

Arya crossed her arms and glared at the Shadow. “Make it twice.”

“I have no objection to that.” The Shadow threw the elf the clothes.

The woman turned to change and came face to face with the shade, stopping her. “I swear, little elf, if you even think about doing that, I’ll change the script back to the way it really happened.”

Arya smirked. It was hard to take Durza seriously when he was wearing such ridiculous amounts of makeup and color changing contacts. She leaned in until their noses were almost touching and hissed, “You probably like it, masochist.” Then slipped around him and sauntered off. She could feel his eyes on her back and threw a one fingered salute over her shoulder. “And stop staring at my ass!” 

Durza coughed, caught in the act, and turned back to the Shadow. “I also have an issue with my…wardrobe.”

“Your contract renders all your complaints moot.”

“But does it really have to be covered in glitter glue?” Durza lifted his armored shirt in dismay. “And why must I wear this padding? I’m not chubby, why do you insist on making it look like I am?”

Brom stifled a sarcastic chuckle. “I know you think you’re a vampire with the new costume, Durza, but you really need to look in a mirror.”

Durza scowled at the Rider before growling “I’ll be at my starting point.” And whipped around with a swirl of his new cape. He passed by the trailer just as Arya was walking out, trying to tug the hem of her skirt further down her legs to cover as much skin as possible. “Nice legs, elf.” He casually remarked and quickly took off in a sprint before she could wind up and punch him all the way to Daret.

The ground began to shake as Nar Garzvog lumbered up to the Shadow, his clan of Urgals in tow. “Misty One, where do you wish us to stand for our part?”

The Shadow waved the Kull off. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you, we won’t be needing you. We’ll be using these men.” It pointed towards the group of six-foot chub monsters with blue sharpie on their faces. “Much cheaper, and less stench. Go on, get out.” It snapped its fingers and the clan disappeared in a poof of sulfur smelling smoke.

“Now, Arya, please take your place. We need to begin. Brom, if you would please?”

Brom cleared his throat and picked up his script as Arya hopped onto the horse provided. “Remember, Arya, just grin and bear it.”

“Yeah, that’s what politics is all about. I’m going to kill Nasuada for suggesting this to raise war funds.”

“Ready? ACTION!” 

SCENE 1 FOREST CHASE 

Brom cleared his throat again and began in his best ‘Badass Storyteller’ voice.

“There was a time when the fierce and beautiful land of Alagaesia, was ruled by men astride mighty dragons…

“To protect and serve was their mission. And for thousands of years, the people prospered. But the Riders grew arrogant, and began to-” He stopped, flabbergasted. “Now wait just a minute, this isn’t correct at all! We never fought each other, Galbatorix went bloody insane for the Stars sakes!” He twisted around the glare at the Shadow. “What kind of hack is this? You’re ruining an already fragile history!”

“Keep reading.” The Shadow snapped. “History doesn’t make money, drama makes money. I own you until this film is complete, so keep. Reading.”

Brom sank into his chair, grumbling. “This is so beyond my pay grade. Achhem, But the Riders grew arrogant, and began to fight among themselves for power.

“Sensing their weakness, a young Rider named” Brom paused, and took a moment to slowly and carefully pronounce the tyrant’s name, “Gal-buh-tor-ix betrayed them. And in a single bloody battle, believed he had killed them all. Riders, and dragons alike.

“Well, you got something right.” Brom griped, but turned back to reading when the Shadow mouthed ‘own you.’ “Since then, our land has been ruled by Gal-buh-tor-ix. He crushed all rebellion including the freedom fighters known…as the Varden.

“Those that survived fled to the mountains. There, they hoped for a miracle that might even their odds against the king.”

Brom threw the script down. “Now that I’m done with this mediocre pile of shit, let me tell you something! The Varden has never openly had an army verses army war with dear old Galby until Farthen Dur, you illiterate fool!”

The Shadow opened its mouth to reply but a whoop from out in the forest cut it off. “Oooo, Brom is getting maaaaaad!”

“ARYA, BE QUIET!” The Shadow yelled. “You aren’t done yet, Brom! CUE THE CHASE SCENE!”

“Wait, what?” Arya raised an eyebrow then let out a startled yelp as three of the new ‘Urgals’ lunged from the bushes and slapped the three horses on the rump, sending them off at a breakneck gallop. “OH FUCK YOU!”

“Read!” The Shadow snapped.

“Fine! Our story begins one night, as Arya, an ally of the Varden, rides for her life. Carrying a stone, stolen from the king himself.” Brom looked up with a sour expression. “I STOLE THAT, BY THE WAY! NOT YOU!”

“I’m not arguing!” Arya yelled back, trying to reign in the very spooked horse catapulting through the woods with one hand while frantically flipping through the script with another

“CUE DURZA CLOSE UP!”

Durza glanced down at his script and raised his eyebrows, then jerked back as a camera suddenly shot up inches from his face. “Oh! Um…HSSSSSS-“ He managed a few seconds before shoving the camera away. “THAT WAS NOT MANLY OR SHADELY AT ALL!” Laughter from the direction of his elfin companion could be heard. “I WILL HAVE YOU TORN TO PIECES FOR LAUGHING, ELF!”

She ignored him, finally reaching the correct page of the script. “Ah! Human stand ins get shot-”

Two of the new Urgals popped up, holding loaded crossbows level with the two stuntmen currently taking the place of Glenwing and Faolin.

“We’re sorry.” The larger one said sincerely. “It’s nothing personal, really! But they said they wouldn’t wash the sharpie off unless we do what they say.” They both fired.

Two very shocked and very dead stuntmen hit the ground. Arya stepped her now calmer horse around the bodies and settled her chin on her fist, scanning the script again. “And then…then what, Urgals, Urgals, uh…oh here. I get tackled off and throw down a hill.” After a moment of silence, the woman straightened, a deadpan expression on her face. “I should have read this before hand.”

She could hear the thudding footsteps of the Urgal running towards her and quickly clambered to a crouch on top of the saddle. “Fuck it, I’m jumping.” With that, Arya dove off the horse to the drop at the side. Moments later the Urgal landed on the poor animal. “PETA’s gonna sue yo-OW FUCK SHIT OW, SON OF A BITCH WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU WAIT FOR A VALUABLE PRISONER OW TO BE AT THE TOP OF A HILL WITH ROCKS AT THE BOTTOM TO TACKLE THEM?!”

Brom turned to the Shadow. “I’d like to know that as well.”

The Shadow waved it off. “Semantics. Don’t need it.”

“Oh for the love of- This isn’t even the Ancient Language!” Both looked up to see Durza standing on his ‘cliff,’ about to set the woods on fire. “I can’t summon a flame with this!”

“Light the forest on fire.” The Shadow commanded. “You must use the words provided.”

“But that won’t even work!”

“Then set it on fire using the Ancient language in your head.” The Shadow snarled. “I don’t have time for this!”

“That is incredibly dangerous, and my contract-”

“Says you’re a total pussy and that you enjoy romantic comedies and light bondage in the fine print, now SET THE FUCKING FOREST ON FIRE!”

Durza complied, but only while shooting the Shadow the bird.

Right on time Arya cleared the permitted ‘fire circle of doom’ area and skidded to a stop before she ran into the opposing wall of flames. “So, what, we doing this again?”

“Unfortunately.” Durza strode through the fire. Well, not exactly strode. He had to wave his hands in front of his face to prevent the heat from melting his makeup. He cleared his throat and put on his best ‘rape face’ as the script asked. “Give it to me!”

“D-” Arya paused, her previously prepared dirty joke flying out the window as she saw the blocked text. “Wait, this thing says I have my sword out. Why the hell don’t I just stab you in the chest?”

“SEMANTICS!” Came the yell from off scene.

“Riiiggghht.” Arya shoved the script into the leather bracer on her arm. “Achhem, well. Time to be a bitch.”

“There’s a time when you aren’t a bitch?” Durza remarked, appearing sincerely puzzled.

“Shut up.” The elf shifted into a fighting stance. “Durza!”

Durza switched back into his movie persona. “And I’ll let you live.”

“Is there anyone who trusts the words of a shade?” Arya scoffed. “Oh, that’s very true. Hey, do I really have to teleport this?”

“CONTRACT!”

Arya huffed and pulled the ‘stone’ out of her bag. “Fine. This is going to hurt like a bitch.” Seconds later she was on the ground, blinking stars out of her eyes. “Ooowwww…”

Durza chuckled, “Where did you send it?”’

The elf notice where his eyes were. “What, would you like me to hitch my skirt up a bit more for you?”

“What can I say? I like the hot, sweaty leather look.” He grinned. “The light bondage part of the contract wasn’t lying.”

She scowled. “Poor Durza…How will you tell the king…you’re a total freak? Ahhem, I mean, you failed.”

The two then paused, pulling out their scripts. They spent a few moments reading before Durza started laughing and Arya started swearing.

“What the hell is this?!” She yelled. “[ACT LIKE YOU’RE HAVING AN INTENSE BUT PAINFUL ORGASM]?!?! This is TORTURE?!”

The Shadow materialized in the fire circle. “We just need you to act in pain. The orgasm part is afterwards.”

“Excuse me,” Durza raised his hand. “what is a ‘force choke?’”

“Pretend you’re choking her with your fingers but don’t touch her.” The Shadow made a ‘get on with it’ gesture.

The two looked at each other.

“I’m totally okay with this.” Durza shrugged.

“Yeah, well I’m not!” Arya snapped. “No way am I going to roll around in pain then pretend to bask in post orgasmic bliss in front of YOU of all people!”

“Well, we can do something about that first one.” Durza suddenly stomped on the elf’s stomach. 

“OW!!” She reflexively curled into a ball. “YOU BASTARD!”

Durza looked over his shoulder at the Shadow. “We have the rolling around in pain part down, but I’m not the guy to call to get that second part. You’re going to need this guy, Faolin, he lives-” Arya managed to roll up and land a particularly damaging punch on the shade’s crotch. “OW!! YOU BITCH!” He collapsed and began rolling around in pain, clutching his wounded merchandise.

The Shadow sighed. “Alright. That’s a wrap. SOMEONE TELL ERAGON WE’RE HEADING HIS WAY!”

“Someone warn the poor boy.” Brom rubbed his temples before packing up his chair and helping Arya up. “Tell him we already have wounded. It’ll be a miracle if nobody dies before this is over.” They stepped over the dead stuntmen and made their way towards Carvahall, Durza crawling behind them.

~~~~~~

(Set & Scene 2)

#eragon #modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #arya #arya drottningu #brom #durza #saphira #book vs movie #inheritance cycle book vs movie #eragon book vs movie #eragon movie

[midasgutz]

elfen lied manga was such a fuckin trip. did i dream that shit up ? who allowed the dude who made that to just write all that shit??

i need to talk about elfen lied because this shit has been living rent free in my head for over an actual decade. significantly longer than a decade.

im glad that i can now accept that media i consume doesnt necessarily say anything about me, because. jesus, every inch of elfen lied is a war crime. every panel.

the coolest character who was generic tough military dude, who right when you meet him makes a point of punching a secretary just for standing behind him. and then goes out to find and kill a 17 year old with abandonment issues. and gets his shit kicked in and his arm ripped off and his eyes plucked out. and so, naturally, he trades his testicles for some dope robot eyes. for the sake of all humanity. oh and a really mediocre robot arm that he can actually break if he puts too much force into like anything. and so naturally he then finds a 14 year old homeless girl, who helped him while he was bleeding out on the beach. and of course he beats her up and, possibly kicks her dog. and then he gives her his number. uh, so he can come help her if anyone tries to... beat her up? because he cant owe her anything. and then she says something he doesnt like so he beats her up again and she shows him the paper he wrote his number on and says "someone scary is screwing with me". he storms off after that but doesnt take the paper, he still owes her. he makes good on it too, she gets in some bad trouble with a bad bad dude later. a bad bad dude with a trenchcoat whos basically just a vampire hunter, crossbow included but actually he's here to hunt teenage girls with horns, not fangs. the crossbow shoots hard metal balls with velcro spikes that have a toxin on them that causes excrutiating pain. this guys a bad bad dude, and he miiiiiight be suggesting he's gonna rape this 14 year old girl but it could be the unfairthful translation causing confusion. probably not tho the author of this series is majorly fucked in the head. anyway robocop shows up and he puts his boot right down this dudes throat so thats like whatever. that panel was my desktop wallpaper for like 6 years. we find out that 17 year old girl is evil because some kids killed her dog with a vase. so she blew them up, and after that she goes around blowing people up just to eat the food in their fridge and hang around the crib for a minute. so shes framed as the good guy and robocop is evil this time and they fight again and she does kill robocop this time which sucks because theres a good portion of manga left and no one else is as interesting as he is. he dies on the beach where he lost his eyes and his arm and lets be honest he basically lost his balls at the same time.

oh. and theres a girl who does peepee in her diaper a lot. and she can sing. i dont know why she was there but i mean every other fetish the author had already made a fucking appearance so why not lmao

theres also like. some main characters. theyre complete shit. these include a normal boy. his cousin who is the most annoying character in the fucking world. she is literally just "im only here to pad the amount of love interests our generic main character can have all at once" the character. yeah man, his cousin? cause shit why not. why not, its japan, do as the romans do. also theres the alternate personality of the 17 year old. shes only here so that evil 17 year old girl can be a love interest not once but twice, and i mean, conveniently shes often naked. makes sense, when the only word you can say is "milk".

and then there's Nana. Nana is a quad amputee after evil 17 year old girl ripped all her limbs off and almost finished her off. but dont worry! her dad, whos not her dad at all, finds her and he gives her some prosthetics that she can control with her super powers. what do you mean you werent aware of the super powers? of course they have super powers. its manga. after he does this he just lets her loose with a bunch of money and his tie because she asked very politely for the dangly thing he wears on his neck. she wears it like a headband, even though she established she knew it went around his neck. so yeah he gave her money but she was raised in a lab like a rat so she has no clue what its for. she meets the 14 year old homeless girl and they have a fun time being homeless together. Nana burns the money in a fire to keep warm but only some of it because the 14 year old girl tells her that you can trade money for food, which makes nana very happy because boy did she want some of the 99 cent street vendor food earlier. no one acknowledges that nana has enough money to buy her own house and be well off for easily 5 years. 14 year old girl takes her to the main character house that shes been staying at for a while and they have a bath. nana hated this idea until she realized that bath doesnt mean bucket of cold water at her new sort of house. but uh oh, nana senses evil 17 year old and shes kinda pissed about her arms and legs. they almost do a fight but wait whats this? 17 year old isnt fighting back, she just keeps saying "milk" and smiling. nana takes some issue with this and promptly leaves after pushing her through a rice paper door. shortly after everyone goes looking for nana.

um some stuff happens and then whaaaattt??? nanas not dads real daughter is introduced. shes locked in a circular room lined with lead and chloride of lime. with a diameter of 15 meters, the length of her invisible hands. shes only ever had the voice of a single woman to comfort her, shes permanently lockdd in bondage gear unable to move. she has to use a wheelchair to move because her legs have completely atrophied. she moves it with her invisible hands, her real ones are useless. she calls the only voice she knows her mother. her mothers job has been to talk to and comfort this dangerous girl for years. said mother mentions her excitement to finally see the girl in person, and also casually drops how theyve sewn bombs into several parts of her body. conveniently, if shes in intense pain her powers dont work. so she meets her mom, takes one look at her and says "youre not my mom >:(" and sends her entire upper torso flying. conveniently said torso lands near the bomb controls. she slams that shit like shes a rat with an orgasm button and babygirls arm go bye bye. they inform her while she writhes in pain that she has to comply with their demands or they can blow her whole deal up next time. shes pretty ok with being blown up, but then they tell her they want her to kill something so her ears perk up like a cat hearing a can opener. yep shes going to go kill evil 17 year old. nanas not dad is not taking any of this well but he essentially gets mindbroken after he has to blow up his daughter later after shit flies off the handle. he spends his time as a homeless man, denoted by the sudden appeaeance of a large beard, living in a shack on the beach where robocop died. he does note the beach is incredibly clean and that is because robocop picked up allllllll the trash so that evil 17 year old couldnt throw it at him. he did totally eat shit anyway though no worries. im not bitter about it why should you be? im not.

anyway shit happens and 17 year old melts into a really graphic puddle of fleshy goo, and in doing so totally does the jesus thing. because at some point she realized she really just wanted to be with main character, but all of the things shes done makes that impossible.

i was like maybe 12 when i read this shit. i didnt reread it for this. im pretty sure most of this is accurate but i CAN and WILL promise you one thing. diaper girl is real, and he REALLY really really really 100% did trade his balls for robot eyes, and a playdough robot arm.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Ladyhawke: The Story

When you boil it down, the story of Ladyhawke isn’t quite a tale as old as time, but it’s pretty darn close.

Ladyhawke tells the story of star-crossed lovers, suffering under a curse that stands between them.  It is the tale of a couple who struggle to remain hopeful, to find a way to break the curse, to end their suffering. It’s a common theme, used everywhere from Romeo and Juliet to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Stories of star-crossed lovers are extremely prevalent, which unfortunately means that it’s rather easy to turn their accounts into stale, cliché-filled, predictable stories.

Ladyhawke, on the other hand, managed to avoid this with one, very simple change: They told the story from the outside.

Enter our ‘main’ character, Phillipe Gaston.  (Spoilers below!)

The story of Ladyhawke begins with two events going on at the same time, in the same place: A service in the cathedral above, led by the corrupt Bishop of Aquila, (John Wood) and an escape through the drain system below, performed by petty thief Phillipe ‘The Mouse’ Gaston. (Matthew Broderick)

His escape from his impending execution causes quite a stir among the guards of Aquila.  As it turns out, the prison of Aquila is impregnable, totally inescapable and thoroughly secure to the point where absolutely nobody, barring Phillipe, has ever escaped before.  In order to ensure that this reputation remains untarnished, the Bishop sends the guards, led by Captain Marquet, after him in an attempt to return him for execution.

“Great storms announce themselves with a simple breeze, Captain, and a single rebel spark can ignite the fires of rebellion.”

Phillipe gets away okay at first, traveling outside the city and stealing a change of clothes, a dagger, and some money.  His elation and confidence get the better of him however, and he foolishly announces to an entire inn that he is the lone escaped prisoner from Aquila.  Unfortunately, among the patrons of the inn are Captain Marquet and his posse.

Philippe, for all of his useful abilities, isn’t quite up to fighting off an entire squad of armed men, and though he does his best to evade them, (even slicing Marquet in the cheek with his newly acquired dagger) it isn’t quite enough to ward them off.  The soldiers restrain him, and prepare to kill him.  Right before the sword falls, however, who should arrive but a Knight in Shining Armor?

This strange and mysterious newcomer, armed with both sword and crossbow, turns out to be Etienne Navarre (Rutger Hauer), the former captain of the guard of Aquila. He rescues Phillipe, fending off the guard quite handily, and rides off on his black horse, accompanied by a faithful hawk, and a rather unwilling Phillipe.

That evening, Navarre and Phillipe stop off for a rest in a barn owned by a suspicious farming couple.  As darkness falls, Phillipe is charged with taking care of Navarre’s massive horse, Goliath, and gathering firewood.  Anxious to get further away from Aquila, Phillipe decides to tell Navarre that he is leaving, just before he is attacked again, this time by the aforementioned suspicious farmer. This time, however, his rescuer takes the form not of the great, black knight, but of a great, black wolf.

Terrified out of his mind, Phillipe flees back to the barn to discover that Navarre is nowhere to be found.  In desperation, the young thief grabs the former captain’s crossbow, and prepares to try to kill the wolf, but is stopped by a figure even more mysterious than the missing captain.

A strange, beautiful woman in a black cloak (Michelle Pfieffer) prevents him from shooting the ferocious animal, and to Phillipe’s stunned amazement, calmly leaves the safety of the barn, going out to meet the wild creature.  The wolf comes to her, quietly and tamely, and the pair walk off into the forest.  Phillipe is left in shock, attempting to convince himself that he is dreaming.

Already, we know quite a bit about our main characters.  Philippe is totally alone in the world, and is very concerned with the safety of his own skin.  He’s not exactly a coward, but he is certainly a sly person, using his wits to get what he needs rather than brute force.  He’s an Action Survivor, not a fighter, and he knows he’s not much help in combat.  Indeed, he seems to alternate between being terribly proud of his own cleverness, and knowingly humble about his own shortcomings, depending on his familiarity with what’s going on.

Another interesting quirk of his is that he is almost disconnected with the story, spending a good deal of the narrative talking to God, making plenty of observations about the goings on in the plot.  The audience hears his external monologue that comes across as wavering somewhere between flippant and earnest.  He’s a shrewd chatterbox, accustomed to his place in his own world, and very uneasy about being drug into a grander tale that he does not belong to.  He is very much an outsider, stumbling along with the story in a confused, frantic state, gathering information at the same rate as the audience is, unwillingly pulled into a conflict that, at this time, he wants no part of.  It’s almost a direct inversion of the traditional Hero’s Journey.  In a way, it seems quite odd that this ‘Mouse’ is our main character, when really, shouldn’t it be the fierce and mysterious Black Knight?

Navarre serves as excellent contrast.  He is quiet, reserved, and carries with him a very stern presence, an underlying dangerousness that comes out in battle. He patiently tolerates Phillipe’s behavior for a reason that, as of this point, both Phillipe and the audience aren’t aware of yet.  He is gentle with his horse and the equally mysterious hawk, and yet a capable and ferocious warrior in battle.  As the ex-captain of the guard of Aquila, he also carries with him an unknown history that connects him with events prior to Phillipe’s escape.  In a more traditional fantasy, it would be he that the audience is following.  Navarre is the one with an unspoken quest and sense of purpose, and it is Navarre and his actions that drive the story.  

And finally, there is the strange woman that has appeared out of nowhere, and disappears into nowhere again in the morning.  She has a strange connection to the wolf, and is a lady of few words.  At the moment, that is the extent of our knowledge about her, but we are instantly aware that she is vital to this story.

The next morning, Phillipe tells Navarre about the events of last night.  Navarre, for his part, takes special interest in Phillipe’s description of the enigmatic woman, asking if she spoke, what she’d said, and her name.  The Mouse, with very few answers for Navarre’s questions, is left perhaps more confused than when he’d started.

Meanwhile, Captain Marquet returns to Aquila with bad news: Not only is Philippe still on the loose, but the ex-Captain Navarre has returned. The Bishop reacts rather strangely; he is less interested in their escaped prisoner and the trouble-making warrior than what travels with them: the hawk.  He orders Marquet to ensure that the hawk is unharmed, and sends him back out to go search for the two fugitives.

Back in the woods, Navarre finally explains his plans: His quest is to kill the Bishop, and he wants Phillipe, the only escaped prisoner from the medieval version of Alcatraz, to help him.  By using him to get in, Navarre will enter the church and strike the Bishop down with the sword of his ancestors, adding his own jewel to the set that adorn the hilt of the weapon.

Phillipe is less than thrilled with this prospect, having just escaped from there, and has this to say:

“There are strange forces at work in your life. Magical ones that surround you. I don’t understand them, but they frighten me. You have given me my life. The truth is I can never repay you. I have no honor, and never will have. I don’t think you would kill me for being what I am, but better that than to return to Aquila.”

However, thanks to some…..convincing by Navarre, he is left with no choice but to stay.

Very subtle.

That night, with Navarre nowhere to be found, the woman appears again, stumbling across Phillipe, who has been tied to a tree to prevent his running off again.  Making good use of his silver tongue, he convinces the woman to free him.  Once released, the Mouse scurries off into the woods.

Of course, that doesn’t exactly go as planned, either.  He is once again apprehended by Marquet and the guards, who attempt to use him to find Navarre.  The next morning, Marquet leads an ambush against the knight, and in the scuffle, both Navarre and his beloved hawk are shot with a crossbow.  Despite his wound, Navarre defeats the guard and saves Phillipe again, and immediately rushes to the side of his bird.

Navarre gives the hawk to Phillipe, instructing him to ride as fast as he can to the abandoned ruins of a castle, now inhabited by a priest-turned-monk named Imperius (Leo McKern).  Phillipe does so, and arrives shortly before sunset.  The monk, a disgraced, but sincere man of God, brings them in, and immediately sets to caring for the hawk, locking Phillipe out and speaking soothingly to the animal.

You can all guess what happens when night falls.

Phillipe picks the lock and lets himself in, and realizes what the audience has likely figured out by now: The hawk and the woman are the same person, animal by day, human by night.

After tending to her wound, Imperius explains.

The woman is named Isabeau, and again, as one might have guessed, she and Navarre are deeply in love with each other, and have been for quite some time.  Years previously, she was pursued and lusted after by the Bishop, and by rejecting his advances, (and returning Navarre’s) enraged him to the point of bitter insanity. Though the pair tried to keep their love a secret, the Bishop found out, and after consulting with the supernatural, comes up with a demonic curse: as mentioned before, Isabeau is a hawk by day, human by night, and Navarre is human by day, and the great black wolf by night.  Forever together, eternally apart.

The monk’s part in all of this?  He is the one who mistakenly told the Bishop of their love, indirectly causing the couple these two years of pain.  Now, desperate for forgiveness and atoning for his role in the story, he has good news: there is a way to break the curse.

Here lies perhaps the greatest piece of genius in this story.  In some contemporary fantasy films of the time, there are neat little devices thrown in to offset the epic-ness, the strangeness, or the fairy-tale-ness of whichever story is being told.  In Labyrinth, the items in Sarah’s room follow her into the fantasy world she travels to, grounding it in real-life elements.  In The Princess Bride, Fred Savage interrupts Grandpa Peter Falk to insert his own comments about his disgust or outrage with the story going on.  In Ladyhawke, however, the addressing of its own ‘fairy-tale’ vibe is done from within the narrative, namely through Phillipe.

Although Phillipe serves as the audience’s window into this world, the fact is, the audience is likely to pick up on things much faster than the Mouse does, very simply because we know we are watching a story play out, and Phillipe doesn’t.  As far as he knows, he is just going through life, stumbling upon what he slowly realizes is a story.  He is an observer, unconnected to these people, figuring it out as he goes along.  As early on as the first encounter with the wolf, he begs God to not involve him in this, recognizing magic and mystery at play.  Despite this vague glimmer of genre-savviness, the identities of the animals don’t truly dawn on him until they are staring him in the face.  It takes the evidence of the arrow in Isabeau’s shoulder, matching the wound of the hawk, to convince him of the truth: that he has stumbled into a fairytale.

Thus, he needs things explained to him, and he, similarly to Fred Savage, comments aloud (repeatedly) the strangeness of the situation and his place in it.  Phillipe serves as the ‘real world’ tie in this fantasy story, albeit a more grounded one than the examples above.  He is the exact amount of ‘realism’ necessary for this story, which is frankly, not a lot. He can afford to be both fascinated and skeptical of the story, both moved and objective about Navarre and Isabeau’s plight because the story itself also straddles that line between the utterly fantastic and the grounded, down to earth realism of medieval Europe. It’s a fascinating balance that comes to a head here, halfway through the story, heralded by the first glimmer of hope for the star-crossed lovers.

At dawn, there is another attack by the Bishop’s guards, fended off by the unstable architecture of the crumbling ruins and a well-timed transformation by Isabeau.  This scene, while giving us the privilege of ‘seeing’ Isabeau turn into a hawk, also begins to escalate things on the enemy’s side.  Defeated once again, the Bishop sends out another force: a hunter with a specialty for wolves.

The Bishop’s orders are clear, and give us considerable insight into his motivation:

“A beautiful woman with alabaster skin and the eyes of a dove. She travels by night, only by night. Her sun is the moon. And her name is… Isabeau. Find her and you find the wolf. The wolf I want. The wolf who… loves her.”

What a nice guy, right?

When Navarre arrives in the morning, Imperius and Phillipe go to meet him with their news.  The Bishop’s evil curse can be broken if Navarre and Isabeau stand before him, confront him as man and woman, both human, which can only be done on ‘a day without a night, and a night without a day’.  Navarre, long hardened and discouraged, dismisses this hope as the ramblings of a drunkard, and takes Phillipe and the hawk to continue his plan of slaying the Bishop.

Ironically, with the tables turned, Phillipe finds himself attempting to persuade Navarre of this one chance, secretly telling Imperius to follow them.  Navarre, as stubborn as he is heartbroken, refuses to listen, and orders Phillipe not to tell Isabeau of this possibility.

One night, while Isabeau and Phillipe are talking, they meet the wolf-hunter that the Bishop has sent after them, who has ridden in with fresh wolf-pelts. The hunter realizes that this is the woman that the Bishop is after, but before he can do anything, Phillipe has his first moment of real, honest-to-goodness bravery.  Drawing Navarre’s sword, he threatens:

“If you lay one hand on her you will find it on the ground next to your head. Now ride on!”  

Desperate in an effort to find and save Navarre, Isabeau dashes into the woods, with Phillipe behind her.  Isabeau’s connection with Navarre, even in wolf form, allows her to prevent him from stepping into a wolf trap, sending the hunter himself into one instead. The danger is not over, however, and during a further scuffle, Navarre falls through the thin ice over a body of water.

Phillipe, selflessly throwing himself into danger for the first time, goes in after him, acquiring a series of deep scratches on his chest from the wolf in the process.  Assisted by Isabeau and Imperius, he deposits the wolf near their campsite, where the ‘Ladyhawke’ waits for him to awaken at dawn.

(This leads to my questions about the pair’s sleep schedules, but I suppose that’s not really important.)

At daybreak, Navarre and Isabeau lay eyes upon each other, and almost touch in their short moment before Isabeau’s transformation.  Too soon, the moment is gone, and the Ladyhawke flies off, leaving Navarre crushed.

Navarre, unable to find his family sword, lashes out at Phillipe when the Mouse tells him that he lost it during the night.  The knight’s anger quickly dissipates, however, when Phillipe’s shirt falls open and the former captain sees the scars left from his animal form’s panic.  Staggered and grateful, Navarre embraces Phillipe, and finally agrees to try to break the curse.  That night, Imperius and Isabeau smuggle Wolf!Navarre into the city while Phillipe goes back the way he came: through the sewers.

The next morning, the sun rises as usual, and Navarre, unable to see any sign of this ‘day without a night’ stuff, reverts back to his original plan: when Phillipe opens the cathedral gates, Navarre will ride in and slaughter the Bishop.  He orders Imperius to kill Isabeau if he fails, which shall be signified by the cathedral bells chiming as usual.

The plan goes off without a hitch.  Phillipe gets the doors open and Navarre rides in, full of righteous fury, now blocked from his revenge only by Captain Marquet.  During their brutal duel, Navarre sees something that makes him stop in his tracks: a solar eclipse.

Realizing that the curse can be broken, he attempts to rush back to tell Imperius to spare Isabeau, but it is too late.  The bells chime, and Marquet closes in.  Despairing and grieving, Navarre fights more brutally than ever, and after being thrown his sword (carried by Phillipe, who, turns out, did not lose it), ends Marquet’s life and turns on the Bishop.

He is halted once again, this time, by something good.

Isabeau enters the cathedral, in full light of day, not a feather to be seen.  Together, she and Navarre stand before the Bishop, breaking the curse once and for all. Enraged, the Bishop moves in, intending to stab Isabeau in the back, declaring: “If I can’t have her, no one shall!”

Now it’s his turn to be stopped in his tracks, pretty permanently, by Navarre’s family sword embedded in his torso, thoroughly killing him.

What a shame.

Navarre and Isabeau embrace joyfully, reunited at last.  The couple thanks both Imperius and Phillipe, and as the monk and the thief bow out, the happy couple share a kiss, looking forward to a life untarnished by curses.

It’s a satisfying end to a thoroughly satisfying movie.  A bit expected, but come on, who doesn’t like a happy ending?

The only thing that could come across as a little odd about this ending is simply who it’s about.

In a way, it makes perfect sense.  Of course we want the curse broken, of course we want the couple reunited and for the scummy Bishop to get what’s coming to him.  But what we also might want would be some resolution for our supporting protagonist here.  

What about Phillipe?

As with The Wizard of Oz, it’s easy to think that maybe our main character hasn’t changed that much from beginning to end.  Navarre, on the other hand, has gone from tragic avenger to hopeful hero, together with his love at last.  Isabeau is a person grown stronger through adversity, remaining loyal and relieved to be released from the curse.  Even Imperius is a new man, redeemed from his accidental betrayal by his assistance.

But Phillipe?  Where does his end come in?

The answer lies a little before the main climax.

The scene on the ice, where Isabeau tries to slide across to rescue Navarre in wolf form, is, in my opinion, the resolution to the Mouse’s character arc, where he goes from Action Survivor to hero.  By diving in after Navarre, putting himself in peril to save his friend, he sheds the remains of his selfish, thieving qualities and gains the honor that, earlier in the film, he said he was without.

That is where the change is completed.  That is where Phillipe becomes a hero.  And that is what allows him to put Navarre and Isabeau first.  Beginning the story alone in the world, Phillipe gains friendship and respect from notably Navarre, giving the young thief a new place in a larger world.

True, the climax of the film belongs to Navarre and Isabeau, as it should.  They are the cursed couple.  They are the main focus, even if they aren’t the protagonists.  They are the ones who have earned this ending, and deserve it.

In that sense, the end fits perfectly.  Everyone grows, everyone changes, and everyone gets their happy ending. Now that’s what I call a great fairy-tale.

In the articles ahead, we’ll be taking a look at some more of the aspects of Ladyhawke, so please, if you enjoyed this one, stick around for next time!  If you’d like, don’t forget that my ask box is always open.  Thank you guys so much for reading, and I’ll see you all in the next article.

#Ladyhawke #Ladyhawke 1985 #1985 #80s #Film #Movies #Fantasy #Adventure #PG-13 #Rutger Hauer #Michelle Pfeiffer #Matthew Broderick #John Wood #Leo McKern #Richard Donner

[undermounts]

Bound―Chapter 1: Searching

Summary: As Diana searches for a mysterious artifact, she finds more trouble than she bargained for.

Masterlist | AO3

Pairing: Gaius Augustine/Diana Leigh (BB MC)

                                             Aosta, Italy, 2042

Diana slipped through the shadows, feet near-silent as she traversed the stone streets and alleys of Aosta, the moon full and bright above her. The town was quiet, most of its occupants deep in their slumber by this time of night.

She had left her lodging about half an hour prior, prepared to make the quick ten-minute journey to her destination when she had sensed another presence. As usual, it began as a prickling sensation at the back of her skull that spread like cold fire down the nape of her neck, the hair on her arms standing on end. Diana cast her senses, tendrils of psychic power dispersing through the night like ink through water until she sought what she was looking for.

The signature she found was ancient, far older than her, and distinctly inhuman, although she concluded this individual was not particularly powerful. Probably. Her own signature was masked so as not to alert any supernatural beings or even sensitive humans from paying her too much attention. It was possible whoever else was out there had done the same.

When the presence did not disappear after five minutes, Diana decided whoever this was was following her. She doubled back, taking a few random turns and sticking to the shadows in an attempt to lose her pursuer. Although she had no doubt she could handle herself, it was better to avoid a fight if possible. It would draw less attention from both the locals and anyone else who might be looking out for her.

Europe after all, was still risky territory, even after vampires emerged in the States nearly two decades ago. There were still humans who were hesitant to live side by side with vampires and Diana couldn’t fault them for being wary. Beyond that, there were other vampires as well in Europe that she wouldn’t quite call friends. Those who had devoted themselves to the First, those who were still devoted to Rheya.

Diana felt a twinge in her chest as she thought of Serafine. The Daughters of Rheya. If only she had spared a moment before confronting Rheya, perhaps she could have swayed Serafine… made her see reason.

Diana was not proud of her own mercilessness after losing Lily. She had lost herself, her control, to all of the pain and rage. For a few moments, she had lost her humanity, just as Rheya had. And it still scared her to think of what could have happened had Adrian not tethered her to this earth. It scared her even more think of what could still happen.

Diana paused in a doorway, momentarily lost in her own thoughts as she absently rubbed her thumb over the small charm that hung around her neck. A lily, formed from the silver of one of her best friend’s crossbow bolts. God, she missed Lily. She missed her every day. It was made even worse by the fact that Diana was now so far from home and everyone she loved. Kamilah, Jax, Adrian…

That caused another pang of sadness to roll through her, the thought of home. Home was basking in the moonlight with Kamilah, tending to night-blooming flowers. Home was training other vampires, young and old, with Jax in self-defense, teaching them how to protect those who can’t protect themselves. Home was resting safely in Adrian’s arms after a long day of working towards the better world they all had dreamed of and fought so hard for.

That was home for Diana, even if some aspects were no longer available.

She shook her head, breaking from her thoughts and huffed. A psychic lost in her own mind.

Coming back to the present, she cast her senses out once more and was pleased to find that she no longer felt that supernatural signature. She had either lost her pursuer or it was a coincidence. Either way, she continued with caution, taking a few extra turns than necessary. Just in case.

Eventually, she arrived at her destination. A nondescript stone house on the outskirts of town. It was well cared for, if not a little old. Potted plants bloomed on the doorstep and in the windowsills. Diana pinched a bit of soil from a flower pot between her fingers. Dry. Again, she reached out mentally, searching for any other signatures, human or otherwise, but the house was empty. She suspected it had been for a while. Had counted on it.

Glancing around, she ascended the steps to the front door and placed her hand on the wooden surface and held her breath. Nothing. That was good she supposed.

Over the last few years, Diana had come to learn that people weren’t the only sources of memory she could access. Objects held memories as well, especially those that were well used or had some sort of sentimental value to its owner.

Diana let her hand fall to the door handle and closed her eyes, thinking of the lock’s tumblers sliding free. The door unlocked with a soft click and Diana entered.

The house was more like a studio apartment. There was a living area with a couch, television, and an old wooden table surrounded by four cushioned chairs on her left, a modest kitchen on her right. Against the far back wall was a single bed, unmade. The house was well-lived in, littered with little trinkets that seemed to have come from around the world. This place was… Diana rested her hand against the worn surface of the wooden table and sucked in a sharp breath. Loved. This place was loved.

She glanced around again, this time seeing it as its owner did. This house was a sanctuary, a place of peace, comfort, and belonging. Diana eyed the heavy curtains that covered the windows and realized that the plants in the windowsill were moonflowers, a sort of night-blooming flowers she recognized from Kamilah’s garden. This further confirmed her research and her own psychic senses. This was the home of a vampire.

Diana took one second to take in the peaceful air of the room, appreciating it for just a moment, before she swept forward and began to search. Diana loosened the damper on her power, opening herself to perceive other signatures she would otherwise have to actively search for to perceive, which was more difficult when she wasn’t sure what exactly she should be looking for.

She paced, feeling her power rush to her fingertips, eager to be used. In some ways, her power felt like a sentient being. It seemed to have its own will, although Diana had long since learned to curb it so that it was merely suggestive to her. In other ways, it felt like water, the way it moved through her. She could dam it up when she had to, halting its flow; when she released it, that was when her magic was most insistent, rushing through her like a tidal wave before it gradually leveled out.

Once she felt her magic settle, Diana crossed to the center of the room, closed her eyes, and waited.

Where are you? she thought, breathing deep. I know you have been calling for me. I am here.

The dreams had begun a few weeks ago, during one of her first days in her new apartment. She had gotten fragments of something that resembled a necklace, perhaps an amulet. It was silver, engraved with odd runes and inset with a pale green stone. Following this had been glimpses of the majestic snowcapped mountains that formed the Valley of Aosta, then the exterior of this very house.

There were more dreams after that, of different objects in different places, all of them whispering of some sort of power. Diana still did not quite understand why these objects were calling to her, perhaps due to her own restlessness she had unknowingly sought them. Either way, when she had spoken to Adrian about searching for them, he had agreed that perhaps it was safer for these objects to be brought to New York where they could be monitored rather than out in the world. Although Diana suspected that Adrian had only agreed with her because he no longer felt that he didn’t have a right to do otherwise, given their new situation.

So searching for the mysterious objects was a welcome task for Diana. It gave her the space she needed, even though she wasn’t always certain that this was the space she wanted.

Where…

And then she felt it, a low hum that echoed throughout her bones. She moved in the direction of the source, her senses guiding her towards the bed in the back of the room. The bed, she sensed, was ordinary, so she gently lifted it and set it out of the way so she could survey the area it occupied. Diana brushed her fingers along the wall. Nothing. Humming to herself, she continued along the wall, walking slowly until she felt a floorboard shift slightly beneath her foot.

She couldn’t help but smirk to herself. Of course, whatever this was would be hidden beneath the floorboards. Diana crouched, wedging her fingertips into the crease of the board she had stepped on and gently lifting it. A bundle of faded red cloth sat at the bottom of a small compartment. Diana sucked in a small breath and carefully extracted it, just in case the object was particularly malevolent, although she sensed whatever magic or power this held bore no ill intent. To her at least.

Diana unwrapped the cloth, humming in satisfaction as she recognized the object of her dreams. There you are. The talisman glinted in the silvery moonlight as she inspected it, her own mottled reflection staring back at her. She tried to discern what sort of purpose it had, whether it was inherently good or evil, but as she studied it, she decided that it simply just was. Whether the talisman could be used for good or evil was dependent on its owner.

As she studied it, the pale green stone at the center seemed to pulse alluringly. Odd. Compelled, she reached out with her other hand and touched the pad of her finger to the gem’s polished surface.

Before she could react, her power surged, psychic energy rushing through her fingertips and into the amulet with a blindingly bright flash. Diana gasped, dropping the talisman to the floor with a metallic clunk! She stared at it, breathing hard as her power dissipated around her, sated and once again under her control. What the hell was that?

After a moment passed and nothing else happened, she nudged the talisman with the toe of her boot, turning it over so that the stone, now dull and unassuming, faced her. She could still feel its signature like a faint tingling sensation, but whatever energy she had interacted with, ignited, had gone dormant.

Cautiously, Diana crouched down and wrapped it back up with the thick, velvety cloth. Lesson learned. She would not be touching that with her bare skin any time soon.

Before Diana could think too hard about whether or not she had a right to take this talisman, she felt that prickling sensation at the back of her skull, more intense than before. She shoved the talisman into the inner pocket of her jacket and shot to her feet, blood singing. It was the same presence she felt before, although now that she had spent time in this house, she could at least tell that the two signatures did not align. Whoever was nearby wasn’t the house’s occupant.

Diana heard the scrape of gravel and knew with grave certainty that whoever she had sensed earlier was right outside. She scowled, reaching for the sword at her back. If whoever was out there hadn’t sensed her when she loosened her hold on her power to find the talisman, they certainly did when she touched it. She wondered distantly just who else she might have alerted.

Diana crept towards the door, breathing evenly. Diana didn’t bother to reign in her power again lest she alert whoever was outside that she picked up on their presence. Let them believe they have an advantage. She waited, quieting her mind and settling into a state Kamilah called the “killing calm.” Let them come to her.

As anticipated, Diana hear a sharp inhale, the scuffle of a boot on concrete, and then the door flew open. Diana caught the flash a scarlet gaze and gleaming incisors before she spun, planting her foot against the chest of her attacker. They tumbled back out of the building and Diana followed, closing and locking the door behind her without a second thought as she loosened her hold on her power even more.

Diana watched as her attacker picked themselves off the ground and bared their fangs, hissing in anger. A vampire then. She could handle that.

It was a young woman, although Diana knew this vampire was far older than she. Her blond hair looked silver in the moonlight, save for the dark patch that resulted from a  bloody gash on her forehead.

Diana reached for the sword strapped to her back and then paused. Attacker or no, she didn’t want to take any lives tonight. Whether she would be able to escape this encounter without death still remained to be seen. She let both arms fall to her sides, palms facing outwards.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Diana said softly, stepping off the doorstep. “We don’t need to do this.”

“Traitor!” the woman snarled and then launched herself forward once again.

Diana dodged a punch aimed at her head with ease, twisting her body and whirling around so that the woman’s back was now to the house. Diana glanced around at the nearby houses and then beyond to the field and forest beyond. The woman struck again, this time with a low sweeping kick that Diana barely backed away from. She had to get the woman away from these houses and towards the field. There was no telling what humans might do if they awoke and witnessed two vampires fighting. And if someone else got involved…

“Die!” the woman hissed, freeing a stake from the inside of her boot and stabbing down towards Diana’s chest.

“I’ll pass,” Diana grunted, catching the woman’s fist. She yanked the woman forward and headbutted her hard. The woman stumbled back with a cry, head cracking back, and Diana took the advantage to bolt towards the field.

“Coward! I’ll kill you!”

Diana grit her teeth and wondered why the woman couldn’t vow to kill her silently.

Long blades of grass whispered around her legs as Diana bound through the field and closer to the edge of the forest. The further away they were from the town, the better. The moon shown brightly down on her, providing no shadows for cover in the open field, which suited her just fine. She had no plans of hiding.

Diana heard twigs snap underfoot behind her and spun, planting her feet in the ground and stretching out her hand, using the woman’s momentum against her as she wrapped her hand around her throat and lifted her off her feet, turning with the motion before slamming her into the ground.

“Stop this,” Diana growled, staring into blood-red eyes. “You don’t need to do this.”

“The Daughters of Rheya will never stop fighting the enemies of our Goddess!” The woman’s eyes bulged, glinting with hate and fury as her face turned blotchy. She clawed at Diana’s harm, her wrist, reaching for her face before Diana pinned her wrists with her free hand. Diana’s blood went cold at the mention of the Daughters of Rheya. That was Serafine’s following. Jax and Adrian had been keeping tabs on the group; over the last two decades, the Daughters had grown in numbers but had yet to act, appearing to be not much of a threat. Perhaps by crossing into Europe, into their domain, Diana had changed that.

“This is suicide!” Diana snapped, preparing to delve into the woman’s mind, hoping to help her see reason. “One vampire isn’t enough to―”

She cut herself off. Yes, one vampire against her was a suicide mission, so there had to be another―

“Let her go!” another voice demanded and Diana almost rolled her eyes at her own lack of foresight before the new arrival continued. “Let her go or I’ll slit his throat.”

Without turning, Diana perceived another vampire and indeed their human charge. Immediately, Diana released her hold on her first attacker and stood, hands up. Slowly turning around, she saw her another woman with closely shaved dark hair glaring back at her. In her grip was a young boy, eyes wide and afraid, a wicked knife gleaming against his throat. Her power pulsated, begging to be used. She knew she could kill both attackers but she refrained. If that could be avoided...

Suddenly her feet were swept out from under her and Diana went crashing to the ground, the wind swiftly knocked from her lungs. The first woman was on her in an instant, expression nearly feral as she wrapped both hands around Diana’s throat and slammed her head back against the hard-packed dirt. Diana grit her teeth, fighting down the panic that came with being unable to breathe as she rose her hand not to break the grip on her throat but to place her palm directly against the woman’s forehead.

Immediately the hands at her throat went slack as Diana entered the mind palace of the woman, forcing her to see her own horrific memories of Rheya as she sifted through the woman’s.

“Lies,” the woman seethed, thrashing weekly against Diana’s hold and Diana sensed that the woman truly did not believe the memories she showed her.

It’s because she’s never met Rheya. There is no truth to hold against her, no memories to compare this to.

Amidst the crushing realization that Diana could not simply turn the woman to see reason, to believe the truth about Rheya, Diana found another truth within the woman’s mind. She would not stop until Diana was dead.

Diana saw the woman’s next action a split second before it happened, barely twisting just enough so that the knife the woman pulled from a sheath at her thigh missed her heart and instead plunged into Diana’s shoulder, all the way to the hilt.

Diana gasped in pain, body surging as she hurled the woman off of her, no longer thinking to check her strength as she rocked to her feet, adrenaline rushing, power screaming to be released. Slipping into that cold, killing calm, Diana wrenched the knife from her shoulder with a grunt and flung it into the abdomen of the blond woman, unsheathing the sword at her back in the same motion.

The blond woman’s eyes flew wide as Diana stepped forward, her face neither furious nor scrunched with pain. It was eerily calm as she shook her head in disappointment and her eyes flashed with something akin to sorrow.

“I told you to stop,” Diana said in a low, even voice as she swung her blade out in a gleaming, fatal arc.

“No!” The second woman screamed in anguish as the first dissolved into ash and Diana whirled, eyes widening and power boiling to the surface as the other Daughter brought her arm sideways, preparing for that fatal slash of a knife.

Diana reached her arm out, but not fast enough.

She watched in disbelief as a blade suddenly protruded through the chest of the remaining woman and the knife fell to the ground as the hand holding it turned to ash. When the woman was nothing more than specks of dust on the wind and the young boy stumbled forward, gasping in shock but otherwise unharmed, Diana stared at the man before her as he observed the scattering ashes with a sharp exhale before meeting her gaze.

Diana’s fingertips threatened to drop her sword before she gripped it tighter, the leather creaking beneath her palm as she whispered, “Gaius.”

                                            tagging @bigmemesplz, @somin-yin, and  @mkamra2355

#my writing #gaius x mc #gaius augustine #bloodbound #bb3 #choices #adrian raines #kamilah sayeed #jax matsuo #lily spencer #rheya apostolous #serafine dupont #redemption arc

[mycupoffanfiction]

Lullaby of Woe

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Set in the Witcher universe, Bucky finds a trail leading to his lost love who had been taken from him and he races to get to you before monsters find you.

Warnings: Violence, lots of fighting and violence and Witcher horror.

Word Count: Approx 1570

A/N: Hellooo! Happy Halloween/Samhain/Spooky Day/Thursday. I ADORE The Witcher, so here is a fic in the universe based off one of the amazing Witcher 3 trailers. This one is based off the trailer ‘A Night to Remember’ where he hunts a Bruxa (a type of vampire).

THIS IS PURELY BASED OFF THE TRAILER, IT’S NOT EVEN SET IN TOUSSAINT

If you’re not familiar with the Witcher lore, all you really need to know about this fic are what the words Ignis and Aard mean in relation to the action. Both words are powers the Witcher has, Ignis being the use of fire and Aard is a telekinetic force. Enjoy!

Wolves asleep amidst the trees.

Bats all a swaying in the breeze

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

Fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths

 “James, come back!” Natasha screamed for him, voice ripping through the darkness. “She’s gone, she’s dead!” She shouted into the trees as he rode away on his horse. Bucky knew you were alive; he could feel it.

 For your dolly Polly sleep has flown

Don't dare let her tremble alone

 Trembling, both from cold and fear, you shuffled back on the freezing flagstones beneath you, hands wet with blood as you whimpered, tears rolling down your cheeks. It was supposed to be safe further North, you had been told at least. That was before you’d been forced away from Bucky, thrust into the arms of the unknown with men you didn’t trust nor like.

But now you had been used and left out, chained up and petrified, a loose end ready to be taken. If the monsters didn’t get to you, the cold would. There was no way you’d make it long enough to consider dying of hunger an option.

 For the Witcher, heartless, cold

Paid in coin of gold

 Galloping through the dirt tracks between the fields on the ascent to Novigrad, Bucky spared not even a second for anything else. You’d been missing for too long and the astral message he’d received from the sorceress, Wanda had lead him to Redania. Natasha had not been so willing to believe that you were still alive, though Bucky was sure part of her resistance was due to her bond with him.

But he didn’t love her the way he loved you.

 He comes he'll go leave naught behind

But heartache and woe

Deep, deep woe

 Bucky reached an old dock warehouse just outside of Novigrad city, his Witcher senses making the scene easier to pick apart. Signs of a struggle, spilt wine, blood. Taking his time, he looked around and studied each item of interest until his eyes landed on something.

The necklace he had gifted you all those years ago.

 Birds are silent for the night

Cows turned in as daylight dies

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

Fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths

 Bucky followed your scent, a winding path that he could almost visualise in his mind as he followed it. The sweet smell of your perfume from Toussaint mixed with you soft musk. He’d missed that smell, the way his sheets clung to scent after a night together and his heart clenched. He wasn’t supposed to feel, but he did. He felt something for you more than he thought he ever could about anyone.

Bucky stopped short, his wolf medallion jingling as it trembled, eyes trailing over the old barn. A ragged laugh pierced through the silence and he knew. Reaching down to his belt, Bucky pulled off a bottle from its leather strap, popping the cork off with his thumb. The acidic tang of the Black Blood potion stung his nostrils as he tipped back the bottle, veins broadening as he drank, darkness creeping through his blood, the black so opaque it showed through his skin.

Reaching up, Bucky took out his silver sword, leaving the Steel blade in its sheath. Taking a deep breath as he let the poison take effect, he walked towards the barn doors.

 My dear dolly Polly shut your eyes

Lie still, lie silent, utter no cries

 A low growl, feral almost as she approached you, aging before your eyes from a young woman to an old, shrewd hag. Her rasping cackle made you shudder as she approached, fingers slowly growing into long, spiked claws.

Everything ached and hurt as you tried to desperately shuffle away from her, her hair growing thin and scraggly, face becoming sour as she grinned maliciously at you, bearing her overcrowded sharp teeth. The smell of rotten flesh hit your senses and you gagged, stomach flipping and tossing about as your heartrate quickened.

Your back pressed against the wall and you took in a sharp, short breath, struggling to keep yourself calm. Squeezing your eyes shut, you dampened the whimper from your throat when you felt her breath against your exposed skin. A tear rolled down your cheek, chilling against your skin when it cooled in the cold night time air. Your blood temperature felt like it plummeted as she reached out, spindly fingers trailing, scratching across your arm, making you flinch as she dug in, piercing the skin.

 As the Witcher, brave and bold

Paid in coin of gold

 Your scream erupted Bucky’s skin into goose bumps as he approached the door. Pulling the rickety wooden door open, moonlight seeped into the barn, revealing her standing over you. Bloody and weeping, you trembled in pain and fear, wordlessly begging her to stop the torment.

It took a moment for her to notice his presence. Slowly rising from her crouched position on the floor, she peered over her shoulder at him. A youthful, peaceful smile stretched across her lips as she slowly turned to face him. “Witcher.” Her voice was soft, almost sickeningly sweet as she looked into his eyes. Bucky grimaced at her, not uttering a word as she slowly reached up, fingers gently pushing at the edges of her thin, cream cotton gown.

 Her dress dropped and her form almost disappeared like it had been swept away by the wind. Bucky stood as still as stone, his gaze stayed pinned to the wall, not even taking a second to look down at your bloodied state.

 Bucky sensed her behind him and he spun, raising his sword in an arc to strike down on her as he turned, a glimmering dust raining down on her invisible form when he launched a vial of it at the rafters above.

It was a fast, quick paced dance between claws and metal as she dodged each strike. Bucky slashed at her, ripping at her skin with his silver blade and she stumbled back, though it wasn’t enough to stop her. She launched at him, a guttural shriek ripped from her throat as she jumped at him, claws tearing at his cheek, the force of her attack sending him tumbling back.

Ignis.

A force of fire erupted towards her and she screeched out as she kept her distance, circling the Witcher before her next attack.

Taking a running leap at him, she overwhelmed Bucky, making him drop his sword. The silver blade clattered to the ground as he deflected her attacks with his forearm, the armour holding up just enough under her attacks.

Bucky was struck across the middle and he fell to the floor, clutching his side, pain in his eyes as he stayed still. She stalked him, circled him and you watched with bated breath as he stayed still.

With a blood curdling shriek, she leapt at him, hand forcing his head to the side before her jagged teeth sunk down into his flesh, ripping, sucking, blood trickling into his clothing. Bucky groaned out, grabbing at her hair and yanking her off, throwing her away from him.

She let out a hoarse shriek as she got to her feet, riled up, angry, possessive. She paused, looking down at herself as darkness coursed through her veins, Black Blood seeped into her system, clawing up her veins and she looked back up at Bucky as he got to his feet.

  He'll chop and slice you

Cut and dice you

Eat you up whole

Eat you whole

 Aard.

A telekinetic force threw her back and she cried out when she hit the floor. Bucky ran and slid across the dusty flagstones, hand reaching down and gripping the hilt of his silver sword before running at her, hastily slicing upwards, her leg parting from her body but it wasn’t enough to stop her as she tumbled, crawling quickly across the floor towards him.

Bucky’s silver blade slashed at her middle and she spun onto her back, quickly recovering and pulling herself away and out of the barn with a pained, shrill shriek.

Bucky fired a crossbow bolt into her back and then a second and a third before she collapsed to the ground, slowly reverting back to her human, maiden form.

 Birds are silent for the night

Cows turned in as daylight dies

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

For the Witcher brave and bold

Paid in coin of gold

He’ll chop and slice you

Cut and dice you

Eat you up whole.

 “Sweetheart?” Bucky rushed towards you, sword clattering to the ground as he ran across the barn, eyes finally focussed on you now that the fight was over. “I’ve got you.” He cooed, kneeling down and taking your freezing body into his arms, cradling you against him.

You were barely alive, but it was enough. Reaching to his belt, he pulled a vial of Swallow from it’s leather fastening and popped the cork open, carefully pouring some into your mouth, knowing that your body could handle the potent healing potion. “I’ve got you.” He repeated, quietly brushing your hair back and holding you against him, pressing kisses against your frigid skin.

“You came for me.” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, tiredness creeping in as you felt the potion working. “I’ll always come for you, my love.” He rasped, bright, yet soft cat eyes looking down into yours. “Always.” He whispered.

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#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #witcher!bucky #witcher #the witcher #witcher au #witcher!bucky x reader #fantasy au #fantasy!au #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #halloween fic #horror #spooky