#because on one hand it's pretty much the equivalent of saying “thank earth”

[hypewinter]

Hal bent down as the little girl approached him. Even then, he still managed to tower over her with how small she was.

"Hey there little lady," he said. "Anything I can help you with this fine evening?"

The little girl looked at him anxiously, fiddling with her hands. Ok so not a nervous fan. Hal immediately switched to serious mode, scanning the crowd for anyone who could be her parents. He didn't see anyone running up to the two of them or even so much as keeping a watchful eye from a distance.

"Is something the matter?" Hal questioned, making sure to keep his voice even and calm.

The girl continued fidgeting, her big blue eyes scanning from side to side. Finally she spoke. "You wiff da space po-eece yes? Not da am-ear-ree-ca one?"

Hal smiled at the girl. "Yes, I'm with the space police." Honestly that was oversimplifying the Corps a little but he had long since gotten to citizens calling him a space cop.

The girl offered up a small nervous smile of her own. "So you won't tell da gov-ment what I tell you wight?"

Hal was on high alert now. Just what was this little girl trying to tell him? "I won't tell. I promise," he said after a second.

The girl broke into a big smile at this. "Really? Dis way den." She started tugging Hal along and he began to follow.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

"You see," was all she replied.

Hal was led down a couple different alleyways and was beginning to think he was walking into a trap when they reached an abandoned building. The girl dashed in and up the old rusted stairs, with Hal following closely behind her.

If this really is a trap, I'll never hear the end of it from Batman, he thought morbidly as he cleared the last step. Instead of finding himself facing an ambush however, he saw a boy curled up on an old mattress. The girl was already by his side as Hal approached.

"Don wowee Danny, I got help. Like I said I would," he caught the little girl whispering as he knelt down next to the boy. He had to have been older than the girl. Three years older maybe? Yet he was still so small. Hal took sight of his condition. He was in pain. That much was certain by his little face scrunched up in agony and his quiet moans. He was also sweating profusely. His raven black hair sticking to his forehead. Fever maybe?

Hal continued his observations as he scanned down the boy's body until he got to his stomach. The boy was clutching it and Hal could make out blood bleeding through from underneath. Oh no.

He quickly yet carefully removed the boy's arm to get a better look at the wound. The kid let out a groan as his arm was peeled away. Hal couldn't help but thank Oa for all his training that helped prevent him from letting out a gasp.

The boy's chest was covered in blood. Dark red mixed with flecks of green soaked through his shirt and there were bandages that had been amateurishly tied around the wound.

"How did this happen?" Hal asked, turning back to the girl. He did his best to keep his tone as gentle as possible.

Her smile was gone now, and her eyes welled up with tears. "He pwotected me," she said. "Dey wanted to huwrt us. Dey shot at us. Danny pwotected me."

Anger boiled within Hal. Who would shoot at these children? They were only little kids. If what the girl had said earlier was anything to go off of, the answer had something to do with the government. He would have to take care of that later though. For now, this boy needed medical attention.

"Let's get Danny to a hospital," Hal said resolutely, as he got up.

"No!" the little girl screeched. "No has-pee-tail. Too dan-er-us!"

"But he needs-" Hal started but then he met the girl's eyes. There was abject fear in them. As if going to the hospital would be a death sentence for both children. Where else were they supposed to go though? The boy- Danny needed medical attention stat. That much was certain.

Hal paused. There was one place. He sighed. Batman was going to kill him for this.

"Okay okay. No hospital. But what about space?"

"Space?" the girl repeated.

Hal nodded.

The little girl smiled. "Danny lobes space!"

"Well then. That's perfect."

Hal constructed a new bed for the boy, carefully easing him onto it before putting a protective dome around both children. The little girl giggled as he lifted them up. He then turned to the wall where he created a giant hammer to knock it down. Then they were off. Flying higher and higher, towards the atmosphere. As the Watchtower got closer in sight, Hal couldn't help but groan. Taking civilians to the Watchtower? Oh yeah, Batman was definitely going to kill him.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #winter's tales #sorry if the baby speech is annoying #really wanted to emphasize that ellie is just a tiny tot is all #side note it was strange writing “thank oa” #because on one hand it's pretty much the equivalent of saying “thank earth” #but on the other hand i felt like a natural thing for him to say? #*it #though i guess there are some people who say “thank gaia” #which is just another name for earth #but that's probably in reference to the actual greek personification so.... #idk #anyways i'm getting off into a random tangent #feel free to ignore this

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: ✌ NIKE: Goddess of Victory 🏆

Author's note: Hello everyone! In lieu of posting the major gods demigod headcanons, here is the minor gods version!As usual these headcanons will contain what it's like being claimed and what it's like for the respective god and cabin, followed by a small story between you, the reader, and the respective demigod of that god. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! [PJO MINOR GODS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST] Disclaimer: To new fans or strictly TV watchers of the PJO series, future spoilers for the entire PJO series books will be referenced. Read at your own risk.

When you get claimed, it’s after winning. It could be beating an arm wrestling match, winning at rock paper scissors, you get the gist. 

The desire to win is so strong that it’s borderline obsessive.

Competitive is the defining word for a child of Nike. 

You have the last laugh- even if you lose at that moment, you’ll find yourself winning in the end, even if you have to play the long game. 

Perfection, or near perfection, is also part of your drive. It may not have to do with everything and anything, but it is there.

You’re athletic as heck as Athletics fall under her domain. If you weren’t before, well, not if Nike has something to say about it. Consider it the equivalent of Aphrodite’s blessing, where her children are blessed with perfect makeup and hair, except in your case, you have a boost in athletic skill, intelligence, and etc. Even if you have a chronic disease or disability, Nike has you covered in ways you didn’t know were possible. 

If you aren’t competitive, you’ll start to feel the need to win when you see someone outpacing you. This often leads to a choking hazard when more than once, a child of Nike overheard a “Let’s see who can eat the fastest!” or something of that degree. If one child of Nike starts doing it, then another will follow, and a chain of Nike children are shoveling food into their mouths. Then the sheer energy produced by the chain of children of Nike affects everyone else. Food competitions and food fights, especially, are banned in Camp Halfblood for these reasons. This is one of the few times Mr. D intervened with his godly power with his own, and oh boy. 

In games like Truth or Dare, they will definitely commit. You can imagine what’ll happen. The Hermes cabin is banned from asking or starting a Truth or Dare game when there are children of Nike around. It was not pretty. Limits were tested and broken. Absolute truths unbearable to hear as everyone felt some emotional reaction; but mostly unbearable, intense second-hand embarrassment that some just walked out of. Impossible challenges were met and there was much, much regret. Travis and Connor Stoll are, as expected, the perpetrators of this ban. 

Spite. So much Spite. You will do things out of pure spite. Being kind out of spite is also on the table. You can be even spiteful out of spite. How that works, I have no idea and only you know.

Any form of congratulatory tokens are handled by the children of Nike; especially the Laurels. 

You have a natural affinity with a child of Athena, due to her connection Athena, but also children of Ares. This is mostly due to the fact of their domain of war.

The bit of having a natural affinity with a child of Athena or Ares is crucial because more likely than not, they will either enable you or they will be the ones to pull you back and give you a down to earth level. This is usually done by the children of Athena, but when an Ares’ child does it? Oh then you know, a line has been crossed.

Depending on how many Nike children there are, Chiron does his best to split you guys in the middle, and put one half in the team with the Are’s team, and the other half with the Athena’s team. This is to balance out of the gods on the behest of the Nemesis cabin due to…incidents. Very bloody and catastrophic incidents. 

Likewise on never challenging a child of Nike, this also applies vise-versa. NEVER ACCEPT A CHILD OF NIKE’S CHALLENGE. YOU WILL LOSE. YOU WILL REGRET IT. A CHILD OF NIKE’S CHALLENGE IS ONE THEY KNOW THEY WILL ABSOLUTELY, GUARANTEED WIN. [Accept at your own risk and peril.] 

There’s a 120% guarantee that a child of Nike will take any challenge with any sort of prize. It doesn’t matter if it’s something very minor like a cheap toy, they will do what it takes to win it. The icing on the cake? There’s a rumour that there’s an actual prize that Nike herself promised to her children that whoever wins the most by the end of the year, they will receive a prize from herself. Most people know it's a golden laurel, but there’s a rumour that they could earn a pair of golden wings much like Nike herself (of course a dumb down version but still very powerful regardless). The kicker about this? The bar is set higher every year; where the children of Nike must win at least above the minimum from the previous year. The bar is constantly moving. No one’s sure if it’ll end. 

Don’t worry though, the children of Nike have (some sort of) honour in winning. Sure they might use tricks and schemes to win, but there won’t be any dirty or easy wins from them. They’ll earn their win as fairly/honourably/squarely as it can be. On the other hand, if it’s an easy win or win by default, some children of Nike might not take it. 

You were coming down from the high of winning and the claim of Nike over your head. When Chiron announced who your godly parent was, you thought “Yeah that sounds about right” and as you were basking in the afterglow, you heard incessant yelling from the distance that was quickly getting louder. 

People were either moving to the side, diving and pushing others to get out of the way, and those who didn’t were bouldered over by a pair of identical twin girls. They both had brown hair and were practically pushing at each others’ heads, while rushing towards you while trying to push the other away, but inevitably were knocking others around them down.

They looked around before their eyes locked on you and you froze like a deer in the headlights as they barreled over to you as they both stuck their hands out at the same time, and yelled in your face excitedly,

“Hi! I’m Holly Victor, child of Nike and cabin leader!” “Hi! I’m Laurel Victor, child of Nike and cabin leader!” 

Their words sounded like you were hearing stereo and you were reeling from everything. Upon instinct, your hands both stuck out to take their hands and before you could even think of introducing yourself back, the twins snapped their heads at each other and they glowered, 

“Hey I was first! No, I was! Stop copying me! I won first!” they both said and your head was spinning. 

You stammered out an introduction, as helpless at it may be but they’re focus turned to you just as you finished saying, “-and who are you guys…?”

Before the two girls could even think to explain first, Chiron stepped from behind them and placed his hands on their heads to get them to stop. 

“They’re Laurel and Holly Victor, twin sisters and daughters of Nike, just like you. They’re also the cabin leaders of the Nike cabin” he introduced. 

“But aren’t there supposed to be one cabin leader…?” 

“Normally yes, however, when deciding who would, being children of Nike, the two argued and fought for a very long time to be cabin leader before we all agreed it was better for both sisters to be cabin leaders.”

You paled at your future being at the Nike cabin as you prayed to your godly parent for strength, but remember they got this from Nike, and more importantly-

The Victor twins both grinned and shook your hands at the same time, “Welcome to the Nike cabin, new sibling!”  

You just stared at them and thought, ‘This is going to redefine sibling rivalry in all history of sibling rivalry” 

#percy jackson and the olympians imagines #pjo imagine #pjo imagines #pjo #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #pjo reader insert #demigod h/cs #demigod headcanons #demigod imagines #demigod imagine #demigods #demigod reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fic #pjo spoilers #percy jackson and the olympians imagine #nike #child of nike #laurel victor #laurel victor imagine #holly victor #holly victor imagine #nike cabin #minor gods #minor gods imagines #the heroes of olympus

[teddywesworl]

if you're still doing the wip thing... The last mile? your mass effect au makes me feral

I just tried to answer this and tumblr fucking ATE my response but yeah i'm working on it, it's set half at the beginning and half at the end of the Reaper War with the Hawkins assigned to Project Crucible (part 1) and the London assault (part 2). tonally it's very me3 so im gonna be kinda nervous about posting it, especially as it may require a MCD tag lmaoooooo (not them though. never them)

i have no idea when it's going to be completed, though, so here's a sizeable chunk of the opening, complete with epistolary-ish framing device to match DTA:

EDDIE 1

Fig. 1: Perspectives on Tayseri Ward, an award-winning photograph of the Citadel by acclaimed asari photographer Lidilya Ranis, ca. 2182. Note the near-atmospheric effect of the gas and dust of the Serpent Nebula creating depth of field between the camera’s lens and the Presidium Ring.

*

The Citadel is different than he remembers, but it’s also the same.

He and Steve see it differently. Steve thanks air traffic control in person on their way through security and comments on the Sur’Kesh native trees freshly planted in the commercial district. Eddie marks the C-Sec man tailing them while they eat tacos from a super gimmicky Thessia-Earth fusion restaurant and spots a pickpocket watching them from an alley. It’s a human girl, maybe thirteen. No visible tattoos or marks, but that doesn’t mean much when the kid is wearing a beanie and a scarf and a bulky jacket that’ll hide plenty of take. Eddie angles himself so the cop can’t see his face, makes eye contact with the girl, and shakes his head.

They’re in the Mid-Ward, a part of Zakera that Eddie should know intimately. It feels strange not to recognize the large majority of the storefronts, replaced as so many were in the aftermath of the geth attack in ‘83, but the longer he looks, the clearer it becomes that the bones are the same. Eddie rebuilds the map in his head from the position of keeper ports, maintenance panels, walkways—and vents.

He falls behind Steve just staring at a vent tucked between an Armax vendor and a pop-up shop selling the elcor equivalent of beer. Steve walks another dozen feet, maybe, before he notices Eddie’s not beside him and doubles back.

“You okay?” Steve says, fingertips brushing Eddie’s elbow.

Eddie shakes himself off and nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says. “Um. I used to sleep in there, I think. I’m pretty sure that’s the one.”

Steve frowns, his eyes moving from storefront to storefront, gliding over the vent like it isn’t there until he remembers. “Oh,” he says. His hand slides down Eddie’s forearm, and he laces their fingers together.

Eddie feels oddly disconnected from his own body. He doesn’t think he would fit in that vent, now, but that’s sort of the point, isn’t it? That’s what a duct rat is. You stop being a duct rat when you can’t fit anymore. Or when the wrong fan powers up and chews you to pieces.

Eddie unfocuses his eyes and doesn’t quite look at the C-Sec man still pretending not to follow them. It’s a turian, hanging around some fifty paces behind them, and he’s obvious in a way that’s kind of aggravating, because turians make up something like half a percent of the Mid-Ward’s population, and the real residents don’t dress business casual. There’s a tension welling up, raw from the vents and the cops and the collision between memory and immediate reality. He bounces on the balls of his feet, indecisive. Then he squeezes Steve’s hand, locks eyes with the turian, and crooks his finger at the guy, beckoning.

There’s a strange hanging moment where the cop looks like he’s gonna try to disappear into the crowd, but then he accepts that he’s been made and approaches. Steve looks surprised to see him; his posture gets a little guarded, so Eddie squeezes his hand again.

“That’s close enough,” Eddie says at a distance of ten or so paces. He’s not in the mood for this, doesn’t feel like playing a game, so he just says: “Why?”

Steve stays quiet, apparently satisfied to let Eddie handle this.

The turian’s mandibles twitch. “I’m,” he says. “I don’t…”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Why’d they send you?” he says.

“They didn’t say,” says the cop. Eddie’s not sure he believes him, but at least he’s not playing completely dumb.

“Get out of here,” Eddie says. “Tell them you were made. Also tell them the Alliance doesn’t appreciate C-Sec harassing its N7s on shore leave.”

The mandibles twitch again. Turian hearts aren’t quite like human hearts, but the rhythm of this one changes enough to confirm Eddie’s suspicions that the guy at least didn’t know who Steve was. “Right,” he says. Leaving is an awkward thing, but he manages it, walking off in a straight line.

Eddie sighs when he’s gone.

“How long’s he been there?” Steve asks.

“Since security,” Eddie replies. “Fuckin’ amateur hour, sending a turian. Especially since there’s a ton of human cops now.”

Steve hums thoughtfully. “You ready?” he says.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and it’s the truth. He wasn’t sure it would be, when Hop offered to call in a favor, when the message hit his inbox, or even when he stepped out of the Hawkins airlock and onto an Alliance dock this morning. He just kept saying yes and moving forward because he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t.

He keeps holding onto Steve’s hand as they move through and past the crowds toward Oji Way Warehouses, a row of storage units guarded by sectional doors and the occasional krogan hired gun. One such krogan, a scarred old brute with a cracked green frontal plate, approaches to grunt at them about what they’re doing down here, to move along if they don’t have business.

“We do,” says Steve. “We’re looking for somebody.”

“That so, soldier boy?” says the krogan. Eddie ducks his chin to hide a smile, because yeah, even in civvies, Steve sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Munson,” says Steve. “That’s the name.”

The krogan turns his head to get a better look at them out of a single eye. “What d’you want with Wayne?”

#fic wip #the last mile #ask

[assortedvillainvault]

Hello, Chance anon here! When you have a minute, I’d like some Darksiders fluff, please. You can choose who to write for! Thank you!

Heya Chance! You're a diamond and ily, I'm on the coach to Italy as I write this but will schedule for later in the week to post due to predictably bad internet while on the move.

Fuck yea fluff time.

Vulgrim

Vulgrim can sniff out a gap in the market like nobody's business.

With Earth shattered, basic amenities scarce and the entire remaining human population in one place (the Maker Tree) he has a prime opportunity that his target market simply cannot refuse...

"Vulgrim how the fuck do you know what a spa day is?"

"Hush little mortal or I'll remove your discount. Now, skin detox or pedicure first?"

He huffs in mock affront at your surprise that he actually knows what he's offering. He can't uphold his mercantile reputation without doing research first you know! He's working on a Hellish equivalent to sell to the higher ranking demons.

Pretty soon the entire tree is scrubbing away the grime and stress of the apocalypse. The payment was a promise from Ulthane not to paste him via hammer from across the tree if someone wants to make conversation.

You somehow manage to get him to join in, much to the Makers disdain.

He's adding horn polishing to the HellSpa package - your little hands feel divine, he's tempted to steal you again.

Chancellor

There's very few things that will cause the Chancellor to break his foul mood.

But by now you've got grumpy ghoul wrangling down to a science.

You call it a diplomatic meeting. It's a picnic with wine, bitching and the Undying lands only book club.

It's customary for you to slide a new volume to him and for him to return at the next meeting, book finished and Full of Opinions.

He loves quasi historical political intrigue. He will sputter and shout if you make a comment about how it's the ones with bad romantic clichés and cringy sex scenes that he devours the fastest.

One of these days you'll sneak a portable movie player into the keep and then you'll have to sit through a 10hour rant on the implausibility of Game of Thrones - no DON'T pause it he's not finished yet.

If you get him anything to keep instead of borrow he might actually thank you. Then he'll swear you to secrecy in a blind panic because nobody can know he's not entirely an unmitigated pain in the neck.

Wicked Killington

Did someone say DANCE PRACTICE??!

This man is ready to tango, foxtrot and cha cha at a moment's notice. Don't know how? He'd be delighted to teach you!

It doesn't matter if you're travelling with Death himself, you're being stolen for a jig amongst the rubble. Where is the music coming from? Don't ask.

He's got a gramophone in his Hat. This is never mentioned or brought up again.

He's surprisingly patient and full of encouragement.

Fucking body slams a trauma through a building when it dares interrupt you both. You're eyeing that cane like it's a tactical warhead now.

"The GALL! Honestly my dear these demons- can't even give them the time of day! Now, where were we? A-one, a-two-"

He might be insane, undead and potentially cursed, but he's nothing but a gent and the safest place in the city is probably by his side.

#thalassa responds #darksiders #darksiders 2 #chance coming in with the fluff requests this was lovely #thank you for the ask! #chancellor #wicked k #Vulgrim

[solarsavoy]

So so so... let me ask for Gerit then. ^^ All or nothing!

Sure! Thanks for asking. ^^ Should be some entertaining responses to say the least...

Link to Ask.

1 – Favorite color?

Green and brown.

2 – Hobbies?

Sitting and staring. Sometimes staring and lying down. People watching, but only from a comfortable distance. Varies from person to person, but usually he likes to from pretty far away.

3 – What are their strengths?

He's very patient, except in certain cases. He's also very good at knives and sneaking around, remaining unseen.

4 – What are their weaknesses?

He has a very shallow view of the world so there are a lot of things he doesn't understand and doesn't care to learn.

5 – Favorite food(s)?

I haven't given names to the Theran equivalents [and probably won't] but in Earth terms, he likes weird things. Asparagus, onions, squash, zucchini, and various other veggies. He's the type to eat a salad without any dressing if he has a choice.

6 – Least favorite food(s)?

He doesn't care for fruits or herbs much.

7 – What would be their dream job?

Assassin for hire, but only for Mythren. And he'd do it for free. (Bodyguard for Mynti as a side gig.)

8 – What is their DND alignment?

Chaotic Neutral. He mostly just does whatever and doesn't care, as long as it doesn't hurt the ones he loves.

9 – What is their hidden talent?

I honestly have no idea, and he probably doesn't either, but I would imagine some sort of body weirdness like that tongue thing or being double jointed. You know, something random and weird.

10 – List a personality quirk of this person.

Once he realizes he's allowed to without getting into trouble, he likes teasing Mythren and doing things that annoy him.

11 – List something strange/weird/unexpected about this character that their loved ones probably don’t know about them.

He thinks everyone is stupid. Like, legitimately stupid. He thinks there are no intelligent people in the world. Including him.

12 – What is their complex? (Sister, inferiority, etc) Explain.

I had to do a lot of research for this one. I think he has what's called a Medusa complex as it makes the most sense for him. It revolves around the petrification or freezing of human emotion.

13 – What is their main sin of the seven deadly ones?

You know, this is actually really hard because he's a well rounded character with many flaws but no major sins. Like, if nonchalance was a sin, that'd be it, but it's not. He has hints of pride, but they don't affect him in any major ways. He tends to not do anything, but it's more out of necessity than him being slothful. He thinks that's what he's supposed to do. Not lust. (More on that in the sweet and spicy sections.) Not greed. Not envy. Definitely not glutton. (Even if he wants it, he will wait for permission. If he doesn't get it, he lets it go. Really weird guy.) And he's pretty hard to get angry. He's just really really chill. (Feel free to let me know your thoughts on this, tuuli.)

14 – How would they be as a parent?

He's definitely the fun dad. He'll play games with you, get into trouble with you, get put into timeout with you, follow you into any sort of shenanigans, and keep you safe in case of any danger. He's a horrible role model, but a great and reliable friend.

15 – What is their main love language?

Tooooouuuuuucccchhhhh. He WILL touch you if he likes you. Head pats, pokes, leans, nose rubs, cheek rubs, brushes on skin, playing with hair, hugs around any body part he can get his hands on, and the more he likes you, the less likely he is to let go.

16 – How do they act around a crush?

I don't think he has crushes… He just prefers some people over others.

17 – How do they act when they are in love?

He will hang his arms over your shoulders and just physically be around you every second you allow him.

18 – How would they react to a confession of love?

Depends. Does he like them back? No: No reaction. Yes: HUUUUUUGS!!!

19 – How do they show their love/affection?

See number 15 and 17 As a sidenote, he pays more attention to Mythren than anyone else, and he noticed Mythren likes words, so he gives Mythren his words. Whether or not he wants to talk. Usually he doesn't. He's found that when he talks, Mythren thinks he's happy, so he'll burst with questions when he's happy, but only around Mythren.

20 – What is their idea of a good time?

Being with Mythren.

21 – Describe their ideal date.

He doesn't understand the concept of "dates" but if it were to be different than just being around Mythren, then it would be spending time with Mynti while Mythren watches them lovingly. Gerit thinks this is what makes him happiest, so that would be the closest thing to a "date" that he could come up with.

22 – How do they handle drama?

He doesn't.

23 – What is their sexual preference/sexuality?

None, and I'm not sure. It's situational, but not demisexual. He's a weird guy when it comes to sex.

24 – What is their BDSM tag? (Brat, sub, Master, vanilla, etc)

Pet 100% He's ranks decently in slave and sub too.

25 – What is their phobia or greatest fear?

Losing Mythren. Second is doing something to make Mythren actually leave him, which means third is letting anything bad happen to Mynti because Mynti is important to Mythren.

26 – What is their emotional damage?

Anyone who's read his story knows he has PLENTY of damage. If I were to try to explain it though, I would say that he has a shallow view of the world. Looking closer meant he would feel pain, or fear, or anything bad, so he holds the world at arm's length and just… doesn't look more than he needs to. And he's okay with that. This makes him incredibly naive about most things, but all he's ever known is unspeakable to others, and if he looked any closer, it would hurt him more than he can handle. He doesn't do this consciously though. It's like a natural defense mechanism he grew up with. And he's never had a reason to completely break free from it.

27 – How do they handle emotional pain?

Very badly. When he actually feels things, he's very clingy and scared and possessive and bratty. He doesn't like being emotionally upset. It's annoying. And he lets you know.

28 – How do they handle physical pain?

Nonchalantly. Like, it happened. Well that sucks. I guess it hurts a little. *shows Mythren* "Oh dear god, what happened to you???" *shrugs*

29 – What would bring them to kill someone?

If you are ranked higher than him in his mind, all you need to do is ask. As for wanting to kill someone for his own reasons, if they attempt to hurt his loved ones or threaten their safety, he wouldn't think twice. You're done.

30 – How would they react or change after they’ve killed someone?

It's part of that detachment thing, he really doesn't change. It's just another Tuesday for him.

Thanks for the ask!

For those interested, here's a link to the story on AO3. Be warned though, there are many potential triggers. Please check the tags in the fic before proceeding. Thanks!

And here are some pictures. Mythren - brown hair. Gerit - blond hair. Mynti - kid.

#Gerit #Gerit Lentz #Krystar #original character #original story #solarsavoyart #solarsavoyfics #solarsavoyasks #messed up #surprisingly fluffy #I'd never heard of the medusa complex until this thing #it's quite fascinating #Mythren Lentz #Mynti Kares

[maguro13-2]

The Dark Beginnings ~ Origins of the Ink Demons Chapter 0 Finale (4/6)

Nights : Thanks for your help, guys. I could've done it without you two. You must be her sister, Moirai Albarn?

Moirai Albarn : Yeah, that's me. I'm her older sister, and Maka over here is my "Younger" sister. We have the same hair style but a different color scheme with our hare, don't you get it? Younger sister.

Nights : Really? So how did you know that she's the Shattered Meister and not you?

Moirai Albarn : Because I am an heir to the Phantonian Race, she's the one that she's looking for as well.

Jackle : Seriously! That girl's a flat chested runt!

Maka Albarn : *angry vein* OH YEAH CAN A RUNT DO THIS!?! (uses Blood Magic on Jackle)

Jackle : Wow! She can use Blood Magic as well? I heard the stories from the Phantoms of Society since they were equivalent to the Shattered Soldiers, but still I noticed about this one is for sure! The one they called the Shattered Meister is only just a small-sized kid! Am I right, fellas?

Maka Albarn : For the last time...DON'T CALL ME FLAT CHESTED, YOU JERK! (Knocks Jackle out of the way)

Nights : Not what I expected.

Reala : No need to be a little harsh on that one. But you seemed to be a little more consecutive about being agressive or a disagreement.

Nights : Yeah, I don't think that he was just talking about your sister's size, but, uhh...doesn't even count.

Maka Albarn : *angry vein* OH REALLY!? WELL, IF HE OR ANYONE DARE SAYS THAT TO MY FACE, I'LL KNOCK SOME GOD DAMN SENSE INTO ANYONE THAT PISSES ME OFF!

Moirai Albarn : *sweatdrop* That doesn't totally ring a bell. Hmmm...I wonder if the witches are still in real world AU to think that they're already succeeded the mission? I wonder where those two might be?

"Meanwhile in PSO..."

[Growl, From the Depths of the Earth - Hideaki Kobayashi]

(the battle continues)

Group : UWAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Kimial Diehl : This is not part of the Mission! It's not what the chief told us that someone interrupted it!

Ashley : It's every dog has it days, but now it's going to be Dog-sh*t days if you know what are we gonna do fighting a boss dragon that resides underneath the dome!? Do you think that Sonic's co-creator is ever gonna hear about you playing PSO?

Kimial Diehl : I've know that game so much! It makes Sonic Team wanna vomit!

Eruka Frog : How do you even this stop this crazy Dragon!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Fear not, fire-breathing beast! I shall slay you upon my sword and I will beheaded to defeat you!

(dragon starts breathing fire)

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Okay! Okay! I admit! Flaming types don't work at the same time! If my flaming sword of judgement can match the power of his flames, it will have no effect on this case. I need a weakness to defeat the Dome Dweller. Lightning spell and Water spells won't work, because water doesn't work in PSO. The only spell that water works is...

Rupika : Barta spell! (casts ice to attack the dragon)

(Dragon Roars in pain)

Kimial Diehl : An Ice spell? That's a technique called Barta! But who...

Rupika : Hey, girlfriends! You should helping us out! But it's least that you are very welcome to lend me a hand for you!

Ashley : Hey, Fonewearl! We could really use a hand if you want to!

Rupika : Gladly you asked! Cause this Dweller is going down to Thrash! I'm gonna give this Dome Dweller a taste of his own medicine! I'm gonna make you into a frozen popsicle, so eat some ice, Dome Dweller!

Kimial Diehl : Nows our chance! Ashley, the Ice spell!

Ashley : right!

Ashley & Kimial : [in unision] Hocus Pocus, Make the dragon frozenly delicious!

(the three combine their ice techniques to defeat the dragon)

(Dragon Roaring in pain before it falls down on the ground)

Rupika : Yatta! Another one bites the dust! Looks like he won't be having dessert this time with that fiery breath of his!

Ashley : Phew! That was pretty rough for fighting a boss dragon.

Eruka Frog : So much for this guy. He almost barbecued us when it destroyed Jorogumo after some entity must've used Chaos Control to warp us in your world. But we're from the real and we need to get back to complete our mission.

Rupika : Oh, is that so? Come, I'll show you around the city.

Ashley : ...The city?

[scene flips]

[Pioneer 2 - Hideaki Kobayashi]

Ashley : Wait a second. What is even this place?

Rupika : Why this is the city of Pioneer two, and Pioneer 2 is a giant spaceship that is located near the planet Ragol. I usually that I live on the planet ragol, nothing much since I was the only force to have this power called "D-Cells" but I have no idea what those would work for me. I'm Rupika, the Fonewearl and I'm one of the good guys that calls me a rookie.

Ashley : So...Another of the Sega Representatives. And you say that you are best friends with a guy named Ash Canaan who known since you two were in, uhh....

Rupika : Pioneer 2 / Ragolian High. Ash was a high school delinquent and I was an ordinary school girl. Look at this photo. (shows a photo of Ash as a delinquent and Rupika herself as a schoolgirl) This is us when we were in school together. He's sure go into the fights with other delinquents, but he protected me when those boys try to lay a finger on me. It was the kind of friendship that we ever forged before he met with the other NPCs, the Hunters, Rangers, and Forces like me, are three classes that wanted to become a hunter someday and will make a lot of money in the game. Players from all over the world, including you, Kimial, come to the guild and get a job to make a lot of money and complete some missions that we like to call it quest.

Kimial Diehl : Oh yeah. So I've known this game when I was still young, and I was brought into the world of PSO, but do this game have a connection with the legendary Blue Hedgehog?

Rupika : Of course, Yuji Naka created Phantasy Star about four years before the blue hedgehog himself debuted to become the rival of the man in red. I know it's hard to understand that Phantasy Star was the very first title that Sonic Team made when it was still Sega AM8, before renamed it to name after the very own mascot himself! We've known the Blue Blur himself for generations, and even have our own weapons that we can now use from shops or from the enemies in Ragol.

Ashley : Yeah!

Eruka Frog : Well, I've known about know about the rivalry between the Red Plumber and the Blue hedgehog, Mario came ten years before Sonic arrived, it's good that you living with the Blue history since Phantasy Star disappeared about 6 years before Sonic Team gave rebirth to PSO.

Rupika : Right! But Episode II is where the we get the add new content theory that foreshadowed Episode IV, right? But why Episode IV would be a new content? What about that card game called Episode 3? What does Episode 3 have to do with cards?

Ashley & Kimial : [in unison] You mix with Yu-Gi-Oh and Phantasy Star, but with classes and monsters Duelists and Monster Cards.

*Cartoon SFX : BOING!*

Ashley : But I'm glad that Episode IV's being mentioned and foreshadow that PSO's original servers might be the victims to be shutdown by the Sega officials. But luckily, players in the real world have created a private server where they can play PSO freely.

Rupika : That's a no brainier of mine!

Kimial Diehl : Hey, Rupika. Not to mention a bit, I think there's a little creature behind your leg. And it's got two tails to thinking it's...(behind Rupika's leg is a Tails Chao) A Chao that looking alike Tails? This one's... a bit shy.

Rupika : Oh that's just Buddy, I named it when I was in High School with Ash. I found him outside when I was taking a trip to Ragol's forest.

[After the Story 2 - Hideaki Kobayashi]

Kimial Diehl : Wait. This is one of the Chao that was being sent to Chao World? So are you really the original owner of the Tails Chao?

Rupika : Quite true. This two-tailed creature crash landed on Ragol when I was still in school to meet with the Rappies.

*flashback*

Rupika : Ever since I was born on a planet inhabitated by Rappies, I was going to have a picnic with Ash to discover Pioneer 1's contact, and we even get to see the amazing scenery on Ragol's beauty before Pioneer 2 and 1 would be contacted. During the picnic, I discovered that a spaceship crashed landed and we discovered that a Tails Chaos was all alone and crying. This allowed me to do something with it and I had to act tough. So I did it in a motherly way and I stopped it crying by craddling him in my arms and sung him a tune. It was the motherly way to take care a Chao that nobody who would noticed, but Ash decided to take care of him properly. And I named him Buddy. I had to keep everything a secret.

*flashback ends*

Rupika : Players would might get this little fella one day and tried to send him into one of the remaining places. PSO players were not trying to take him to a Garden, they want to imprison him. Those players were the people that no chao that ever wanted. Nobody would be there to take care of him when someone is dead. And when we die, there would be no one to look after him, but I'm sure anyone will do. Even all, It thinks that I am like a mother to him. A real mother to take care of a cute and cuddle-some creature.

Ashley : Rupika. I know it's hard for you to take care of a single creature, but you are a Sega Representative that is an NPC created by Yuji Naka, but the thing is that you were desperate to take care of a single life, the one that you should protect and your friends too. I'm sure that they'll treat you something great. After all, you are the greatest mother that will ever...

*RUMBLING*

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : What!? Now what's going on!? (hears communicator beeping)

Kimial Diehl : I guess that was really touching of you, Rupika. But I'm glad that I almost cried alot.

Ashley : Cried alot? Kimial, what do you mean by that

Penny Crygor : (via communicator) Guys, what are you doing!? You gotta get out of here and get back to the Real World before Time Eater finds out that your partner is the Shattered Meister and she will literally wipe the place clean! With you on it!

[Courage - Fumie Kumatani, Warsaw Philharmonic]

Ashley, Eruka & Rupika : Wipe the place clean!?!

Ashley : I gotta get Kimial out of here! Find a place to keep her calming her power down before she shattered the entire place and there won't be another PSO in 12 years! But it's gonna take more that! What will I do before she completely wipes Pioneer 2 out along with everyone aboard including us!? I've got no other choice but recreate the same explosion that was once did to Pioneer 1 by a dark force, named Dark Falz! It's time we take Shattered Resonance to the next level!

~ Prologue 23 : Mother's Memories ~

#sonic the hedgehog #super mario bros #super smash bros #warioware #phantasy star #phantasy star online #soul eater #fire force #nintendo #sega #sonic team #square enix #crossover #drama #dark comedy #horror #mystery #thriller #supernatural #fantasy #dark fantasy #science fiction #action #adventure #romance #yuri #psychological

[chairteeth]

Random story revision commentary #2

Welp this time I got through more chapters, and a warning for... Uhhh fantasy violence? But with guns. I'm not sure what trigger that is.

“Jesdale! Come on, we need those missiles over here!”

The fact that this is the line chapter 2 opens with,

Every non-essential worker had been assigned to various wartime tasks,

COVID MOMENT.

overpopulation aside.

Yeah just offhandedly mention the overpopulation problem in the SRP as if it's not the dumbest shit ever (please there is space you are just refusing to use it the population of the Earth is literally less than 4 billion iirc).

Their leader was in fact passed out on a sofa next to Shane, not even breathing. Despite looking every bit like she was deceased,

I'm

“She of course denied my request and claims that if I go find her and her crew anyway, I won’t get a warm welcome. Wonderful. Let’s prepare some light backpacks for the journey.”

Gretchen: receives a very serious death threat Also Gretchen: ignores it

Shane was surprised, tail curling around his leg. “We’re going after all?” “Um, I’m a little scared of the literal death threat?” Rick said, raising his hand a little in protest.

THE RESPONSES FROM THE SANE PEOPLE, FOLKS.

After a few moments of silence, Shane peeked back into the room. “Did something happen?” “… Gretchen said she would abandon us on the side of the road if we end up being a burden to her.”

Yeah pretty much. She's just doing what she needs to do guys dw about it.

“But aren’t I the crown princess? I should be helping with the war, right?”

SHE SAYS IN CHAPTER 3 AFTER IN HER LAST APPEARANCE SHE BEGGED NOT TO BE SENT TO WAR.

“Why do they hate me?” asked Alice. “Please don’t tell me the birds are also connected to Catherine.”

Honey, when animals don't like you, it's because they Know <3

“Don’t be afraid, spirit animals are intelligent creatures.” “Yeah, it’s not that I’m scared, it’s that I have no idea how this thing acts and I despise uncertainty.”

Girlie… Even the lion doesn't like you.

“So warmongering. Because I know Vicky doesn’t have a navy. Wait, does she?” she looked down at her superior for an answer. “Does the SRP have a navy?” “It does. Their ships are made of metal, and those cannons are definitely not honorable. As with their firearms, their cowardice knows no bounds. They even ambushed us from below somehow, but Captain Nora has the ability to cut through the metal they use for their ships, and putting anything underwater while we have her deployed is equivalent to suicide on their part. Foolish mistakes are plenty with that incompetent excuse for an army.”

Absolutely wheezing. Yeah we're fighting modern warships and submarines with wooden ships and it's kinda tough sometimes but we can just send this one soldier and destroy them all lmao. Thanks Mel.

“Catherine, if you get this, please do something about the yokai,” she whispered to the air. She wasn’t sure how Catherine’s apparent omnipresence worked, but seeing as she had mentioned the wind and the earth, it was worth a shot.

She is so desperate it's almost sad.

“Welcome back. Alice, by Lady Catherine’s orders you are to be taken to the Mirror Cave for a private audience,” he informed. “I presume that includes me?” the satori yokai said. The man smiled. “Lady Catherine said she did not have time to wait for either of you, so if one or both of you are not in time, you’ll miss your chance.” “Wait, there’s a time limit!?” said Alice. “I can’t sprint!”

We love Catherine Cramoisi in this household.

he was shorter and so were his legs.

Alice I am begging you.

For the record, it did not work.

I AM GOING TO STRANGLE THE NARRATOR (the narrator is not me or Alice).

Alice suppressed a reflex to glare back at him, continuing to walk through the crystal tunnels. “Essentially, he’s telling me he’s useless and wants to follow me anyway. And he can’t even look pretty while he’s doing it. Wonderful.”

This woman's priorities, once again.

Before she realized, she couldn’t hear the yokai’s footsteps behind her. When she turned to tell him not to match his pace with hers because that was definitely stalker behavior, she found nothing.

I am more amused at the narration than I perhaps should be.

The voice was her own alternate self, meaning she didn’t trust it one bit, but it didn’t seem to want to harm her, bizarre though it was.

This is just so telling. Alice PLEASE.

“And now, to find Catherine.” “No need to look for me.” Alice jumped around, hands up and ready to fight. “WHY do you keep sneaking up on me?” Catherine tilted her head. “I did no such thing. Now then, you wanted to talk to me, yes?”

We love Catherine Cramoisi in this househol-

“Is it about our supervisor?” “Yup.” “You want him gone.” “Absolutely.” “It’s not that I don’t agree with you,” the consort unexpectedly told her. “But politics won’t allow us to do away with him until things are secure, meaning until the end of the war against the SRP, and probably not until after we’ve partitioned Victoria’s land with them.” “Ugh.” “Is that all?” “I guess. I was hoping someone would be able to do something about the creep. Everyone needs their privacy, you know?” “Privacy is a rare privilege for royalty.” Alice groaned. “With each passing day I see more and more downsides to being royalty.” There was a sudden silence. “Alice.” “Yeah?” “You know I can hurt you, right?”

Catherine my beloved… (AND BASICALLY EVERY BETA READER'S BELOVED TOO)

“You know how these things work, I assume.” Alice wound down slightly. “Yes. I’ll owe you a favor. And I better keep my word, or else.”

Haha. Not Rin thinking to herself that if Alice doesn't keep her word this might turn into a fun situation and that's dangerous because "it makes her mask crack" like. Vibrating.

Side note, for chapter 3.5, I've written drowning scenes twice in my lifetime and the second one is far better than this one.

“All according to plan. Fate will bring us back together. Okay, now you’ll be on Fate’s side? Which one is it, rebel against destiny or accept it? May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, and may those who defy their fate be granted glory. Teacher’s words, not mine. I also have no idea if she’s an enemy or an ally. A little bit of both. She wants me to defeat her. And I know I will, eventually. I just hope Lady Catherine manages to keep her attention for long enough. Our queen is a crucial part of the plan, after all. The real game has only just begun. Prepare yourself. That sounds way too fucking ominous. And be prepared to snipe Teacher’s swallows if we see any. Didn’t she say they weren’t hers? The ones with glass eyes aren’t. If you see one with black eyes, no sclera or iris to be seen, shoot to kill. The others are not part of her game.” Everything is part of the game.

Ominous ass. As for why the dialogue is formatted weird, this is how I decided to format two different people in the same body talking to each other (no it's not DID, it's a soul thing). There's another instance but it's two of the same person in the same body so that's also formatted differently.

In chapter 4 we once again get a mention of Gretchen's seeing light, and earlier in chapter 2 she read a letter in braille. Gretchen isn't blind but she can't afford to "see", so she keeps her eyes closed and covered by a blindfold. The seeing light is really just, basically sonar technology?

“If only I had my M82. Firearms and blueprints were literally the only useful things we took from the US, and I had to massacre so many survivors to get us out of that one. With this puny rifle, the shot probably won’t land where I want it to land.”

Gretchen really just insulted the US and lamented her lack of a better gun in one breath (well, thought).

“Zerzurans are like tea bags full of magic.” -Gretchen Rufner, 7043 AU

For context, that means it's the year 7043 "after (the) Unearthing" which is the apocalypse that kinda nearly wiped out humanity.

NOT GRETCHEN LAMENTING THAT SHE MISSED ONE OF HER SHOTS BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T HEAR A BUSTED KNEECAP FROM ONE OF THESE TEENAGERS. Gretchen is questionable at all times and she is especially bad during this part but in her defense the situation is pretty dire and they're kinda at war so.

“H-how could you? You made them believe you would spare them,” Rick managed to squeeze out. “They weren’t even soldiers!” “That’s war. Every child of Zerzura is a soldier. Had I not killed them, I assure you they would’ve screwed us over later or tried to kill us. I was very humane with these two, and if you think I wasn’t, you are both still innocent little children. The world Outside is not sunshine and rainbows, especially not during a war. Now, I wonder…”

She says after holding two civilians at gunpoint, shooting one in the head upon learning he's mute, and shooting his brother dead too after he answers her questions while trying not to sob too loud. After this she also proceeds to kill the goats that were pulling the merchants' cart.

And that is all for today! Man I cannot wait to be done with this so I can work on the fics.

#nishiposting #writing #original story

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust part 1

cw: pet whump (and everything that comes with that), whump recovery, past whump, emeto, disordered eating, unreliable narrator, 'it' as a pronoun

part 2

--

Adrien didn’t know what possessed him to show up to that sale. Maybe his house was finally too big for him, with it’s cold, empty, dark corridors and uninhabited bedrooms. He knew that he wasn’t looking for any sort of uncouth company, and he wasn’t searching for something to keep his bed warm. The days had blurred together enough that he’d decided to find something to space them apart, to mark each day from the next and to make life interesting again.

And he wanted to help someone.

So he wound up getting in his truck and driving away from his house, the skyscrapers of his fencing fading off into the rest of the woods that surrounded it as he put the wheels to the dirt and headed out.

Adrien was shocked to see that there were only a handful of cars and trucks pulled up to the sale. It was a lot less formal than he had expected as well. He had anticipated more of an auction type setting, in a building with rows of chairs and someone bringing the pets up to the stage to parade them around. He wasn’t too experienced in the matter, but he wasn’t thinking that it would just be the equivalent of a yard sale. The pets are mostly in cages, arranged haphazardly in the mud and grass. Some of the pets are curious, scarred fingers picking at fallen leaves or pebbles that they can reach through the bars of their dog cages. The pets that were not left in cages were either standing or kneeling down in the dirt. There were maybe eight pets, give or take. Adrien couldn’t account for ones he might not be able to see past people’s cars, boxes, and empty crate kennels.

The air had a little bite to it. Adrien was in a heavier jacket- not a full on winter coat- but the majority of the pets were dressed in tattered t-shirts and shorts, kneeling on the hard cage floor or on the cold ground. Adrien couldn’t help but feel his gut wrench as he looked on while people did their deals, talking to some of the ones Adrien could only assume were the sellers. People in simple black polo shirts, scattered about the scene, talking to customers who came in their casual clothes. It really was no big event to many of these people, but for Adrien, this was something he would likely only see this one time.

Welp.

Time to pick one.

Adrien shoved his fists into his jacket’s pockets, trying to look comfortable and blend in with the other patrons. He had been stuck at the entrance just staring for long enough to see a good number of the pets get snatched up by other customers. Adopters? Future owners? He didn’t know what the right word for it was. As dirty as this all felt, leaving a bad taste in Adrien’s mouth, he had only found the event through an ad on his social media. The fact that it would be pushed so casually made him feel even worse about being here.

He approached a cage that had a seller standing near it. The cage had been looked over and passed by a good number of times by the other patrons, and that piqued Adrien’s curiosity, as uncomfortable as he was.

“So,” He cleared his throat, glancing at the opaque plastic dog crate and the worker, “What’s wrong with this one?” He pointed his chin to the crate, trying to sound as gruff and uncaring as he thinks everyone in this event does. The worker looked down at a small clipboard they were carrying.

“This one was a rescue from a previous owner.” The worker stated. Right, rescue. Adrien remembered that the people running this whole even claimed they were ‘rescuers’ of pets. That being said, Adrien still recalled having seen a couple articles exposing them for being viciously cruel to pets while they were in their care.

“Right… And that’s an issue because?” Adrien pushed. The seller looked at him, first like he was stupid, but then with a sense of respect.

“That could mean the previous owner could want them back, at some point.” They put a hand on their hip, “Either you’re dumb or you’ve got a maximum security prison for a house. Speaking of, the old owner was arrested. Something about a dog fighting ring, and the pet’s here now. Got surrendered to us by the cops, they even gave us all it’s shit.” With that, they pointed a finger to a dirty blue duffel bag set next to the crate. “You want it or not?”

A quick look around the venue let Adrien know that most of the pets had been bought already. He hadn’t even gotten to look at this one, but he knew that if he waited much longer, it’d be snatched out from under him.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll take it.” He extended a hand and the paperwork was shoved into it. Listed were places to sign his name, and fill out his information, legally putting the pet under his name. He got to work on signing it. “How- how much is it?”

“Forty five bucks.” The worker said, nonchalant. Adrien’s seen dogs sell for more, much more. He pulled out his wallet and took out forty five in cash, putting it on top of the clipboard as he handed it back. “Thanks. Need someone to help put it in your ride?” The seller must have been asking as a courtesy, they looked like they already knew the answer as they looked up and down Adrien’s muscular body.

“No, thanks.” Adrien picked up the duffel bag first, putting it in the car before returning to grab the pet. Warily, he held onto the handle at the top with two hands, preparing to heave it up. With one solid pull, he almost sent himself flying backwards as the crate weighed maybe a third of what he was expecting. As he stumbled, he heard a small gasp from inside the crate.

Hurriedly walking over to his truck with long, striding steps, he put the crate down on the back seats, pressed against the back of the passenger seat. The metal grate of the front door was facing him as he peered into the dark cavern behind it.

In the cage was a small person, a pet, as he had expected. It had long, matted, brown hair, and deep brown eyes that stared wide at Adrien before diverting. The pet had on at least a shirt, from what Adrien could see. It was cramped in the crate, but even so, the pet pressed itself against the back wall to get away from Adrien.

“Okay,” Adrien sighed out, “I can see that this is all scary for you.” He shut the side door as softly as he could and got in the driver’s seat, turning the car on and turning the heat up. “I’m gonna take you home now. Might be a bit of a rough drive over the dirt, road’s not paved.” He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or to the pet. He didn’t know if the pet could even understand him, or if his voice was possibly freaking it out even more. He drove with the radio off, not wanting to spook the pet.

The drive home felt like it stretched on for ages, but Adrien was eventually greeted by the metal of the gate that surrounded his house, rising up like a series of spears from the earth, glinting in the sunlight that cut through the tree canopy. The worker wasn’t wrong when she assumed he must have some pretty extreme security around his house. He’d had an issue with a stalker before, and with the help of some heavy fencing, a handful of cameras, and some other measures, he intended not to repeat that experience.

The truck came to a stop in front of the house, having cleared the long driveway. Adrien shut off the car, hopped out, unlocked and propped open the front door of the home. He once again brought in the pet’s duffle bag first, then returning for the massive- but light- plastic crate. As he moved it, he could feel the pet trembling so hard that it rattled the cage.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m just taking you inside. It’s nice and warm in there.”

The cage was put down with a soft thud, Adrien leaving it in the entrance hallway, just before the hall opened out to the kitchen and living room. He undid the latch on the cage’s door, swinging it open.

“You can come out now. You’re safe.” He said in a soft voice. The pet simply trembled, eyes squeezing shut and backing up more against the back of the cage. Adrien took a few steps back, sitting cross legged a little ways away from the pet’s cage. The creature inside it shivered, keeping itself as far into the kennel as it could. Adrien couldn’t even get a good look at it.

“You must be hungry.” He sighed, standing up and taking the few steps he needed to to get into the kitchen. “I’ve got something, here.” He pulled out a box of colorful, fruity, sugary cereal, pouring some out into a bowl and sticking a spoon in it. Next, he went to the fridge,

“Do you drink m- ah.” He quickly came to realize that the pet probably wasn’t going to speak. Rather than risk it, he shut the fridge and set the bowl of dry cereal down in front of the cage, backing up again. A few minutes of frustrating stillness later, Adrien chose to give the pet some space, standing and moving out of the foyer and going into the living room.

“You can come out. That cereal is for you, I hope you like it.” He sat himself down on the sofa. ‘Would it- they? Would they be more comfortable with some background noise?’ Adrien wondered. He took up the television remote from the coffee table and put on a random channel, some kind of reality show. The volume was low, but it was enough for a soft chatting to fill the quiet. Adrien tried to keep himself busy with his phone, scrolling through social media, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at the cage every now and again.

Slowly, gradually, Adrien managed to keep his attention focused on his little device, knowing that if the pet finally did decide to look out of the cage and caught him looking back, it would most certainly panic and retreat again. The room was relatively quiet, save for the sound of the television.

The pair of people on the show were speaking to one another. One man and one woman, and at their feet was a black dog. Adrien wasn’t really listening to what they were saying, but the dog barked. The only reason that that sound suddenly caught Adrien’s attention is because he heard it be repeated.

From behind him.

A dog’s bark came from behind him in the house, from the direction of the foyer. It was almost identical to the one on the television, and as soon as Adrien heard it, the very next thing he heard was a thunk and a rattling from the cage as he assumed that the pet must have moved too quickly or lurched back and hit its back or its head on the ceiling of the crate. Adrien spun around, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa to look back at the crate.

Back in the foyer, Adrien tried to not look too obvious as he stared as the pet inched out of the crate. It kept it’s head low, ever so slowly creeping out of the crate. He watched as he saw pale skin littered with marks and bruises, and light brown eyes, and long, matted brown hair that’d gone too long without care. Around its neck was a bright red collar with a golden tag. The pet’s skin was stretched tight over his body, the raised ridges of bones showing easily.

The pet was dirty, old mud caked on its body, smears of something all over its body, Adrien didn’t know if it was blood or more dirt. Despite that, there was something strange. Sat atop its head in pristine condition was a pair of fake dog ears on a hairband. They looked awfully realistic, but Adrien could see the black band that they were attached to. As the pet fully left the cage to investigate the food, Adrien could see something else, too. Its shorts were filthy and ill fitting, but around its waist through the beltloops of the shorts was a long piece of string. Hanging from it, over the pet’s rear, was a short, fake dog tail, again in perfectly clean condition.

Looking down to the pet’s hands, he saw that they were balled up. Over the small fists was layer after layer of duct tape, dirty and loose from sweat. If the pet wanted them off, Adrien’s certain it could easily pull them off with its teeth, but it makes no move to do so.

The pet lowered its- his, Adrien could see that now- head to the small ceramic bowl filled with colorful cereal. He sniffed it, then quickly pulled away, making a repulsed face. Immediately after his rejection of the food, his eyes went wide and he looked at Adrien, then instantly looked down, trembling.

“Hey, hey,” Adrien lowered the volume on the television and got up, going to the pet and kneeling down. The pet drew back, lowering his head down to the floor, forehead pressing against the wood. “You’re, ah, do you speak?”

“Wruf!” The pet let out another eerily realistic dog bark, though he kept his head on the floor.

“No, no, like… Words? English?” Adrien was kind of at the end of his rope, not quite sure what he should do. “And uh, you can sit up.”

The pet sat back on his legs. Adrien caught sight of the golden tag hanging from the red collar. ‘Sawdust’, it read.

“Sawdust? Is that your name?” Adrien asked. He wanted to reach out and hold the dangling tag so he could make sure he read that right, but he was certain that if he tried that, the pet would get even more scared. The pet glanced over to the side, nodding its head. “Okay, you understand me at least. Can you speak with words?”

--

“Y- Saw- Uh…” Sawdust stammered out, voice rough and looking as though he was on the verge of tears. “Sawd- dust can speak, sir.” He wanted to know why his new master would want his pet speaking to him, but he knew better than to question his owner.

“Okay, good, good. That’s good.” Master sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Is there something wrong with the food?”

What little color was in Sawdust’s face immediately drained as he went pale. He couldn’t let his master think that he was ungrateful, lest he took away the food altogether. Sawdust looked down at the bowl of rainbow colored cereal.

“N-no, no, Master, thank you for the food.” Sawdust dropped back down onto his paws and knees, lowering his head and chest to the floor. He sniffed at the bowl again. It smelled sickly sweet, sugary unlike any dog food he’d been given, but the sound it made when it was poured and moved did sound like dog food. Hard. Crunchy. That was familiar at least. Maybe it was dog food after all?

“There’s a spoon in there,” Master spoke, his deep voice rattling Sawdust’s bones. “You can use that if you want.”

Sawdust’s breath caught in his throat. Was Master mocking him? Pets can’t use things like that, especially Sawdust with his paws. Was Master testing him? Sawdust hiccupped and swallowed down a whine, not wanting Master to see how upset he was. Instead, he buried his face in the bowl of dry, colorful dog food. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore how fruity it smelled, it smelled like things dogs weren’t allowed to have. He took some into his mouth. It crunched, but it was far easier to eat than dog food. It wasn’t as hard, it didn’t hurt his wounded mouth to chew.

Sawdust trembled. Did Master want him to be sick? That must be it. He hiccupped, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as his stomach turned. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could, resorting to panting and breathing through his mouth to try to not taste the cereal as much. He took another bite.

He gagged.

“Buddy? Sawdust?” Master called. Master’s voice was soft, but Sawdust knew that he was faking it. Sawdust swallowed the bite in his mouth. This wasn’t dog food. He couldn’t eat this. Dogs can’t eat people food. His mouth was filling with saliva that he tried to swallow down, but his body wouldn’t let him. He panted, drool dripping down onto the floor as he pulled away from his Master. Goosebumps erupted across his body and he shivered, body rejecting the people food. With a heavy heave, he turned away from his master and threw up onto the hardwood floor.

#whump #whump blog #whump recovery #whump story #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #my writing #adrien #sawdust #pet whump #pls let me know what yall think!! #thank u for reading!

[writing-good-vibes]

brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: birthdays (fluff and smut)

requested by anon !! what do our beloveds do for your birthday (spoiler, they (pretty much) all spoil you) warning for smut. more notes in tags

charles lee ray

avoids his own birthday but goes all out for yours

buys (or steals, don't ask) you a lot of presents

i mean a lot !!

new tv (stolen)

a lot of lingerie (classy)

you have a very late night the night before (takes you to a very rough bar)

lazy morning

expect a very happy birthday fuck to start the day

doesn't make you breakfast because he hates cooking

but does go out for coffee and your takeout breakfast of choice to bring home for you

has a cake professionally made/decorated

(because you made one for his birthday)

the message on top is something v horny like "your pussy tastier than this"

or it's like one word like "whore <3"

either way it is both hilarious and embarrassing that some poor bakery worker had to frost those words

takes you out for dinner (very fancy restaurant)

or to the movies

another happy birthday fuck when you get home

("how old are you again? guess that's how many rounds we've gotta get through tonight")

billy bibbit

billy doesn't much like his own birthday (his mom was too overbearing for him to ever properly enjoy himself)

but he is great at organising yours

lazy morning

as many kisses as years you are old

makes you breakfast in bed because he is a sweetheart

he makes you a present !!

he's actually really good at drawing and he fills a notebook with little drawings and pictures

(drawings of you and of things you love and one at the end of himself that he's embarrassed about but you love it)

then immediately thinks it isn't good enough and that he should of just bought you something

but you kiss him and reassure him that it's beautiful

the best present you've ever been given

you stay in that night to cook dinner together

he's definitely made you a cake !!

is it very aesthetic and the frosting is your favourite colour/flavour

sitting outside to watch the sunset !!

sheriff brackett

does everything in his power to make the day extra special for you

(has told his deputy not to bother him unless something really important happens)

buys you a sentimental/thoughtful gift

like some fancy thing related to your favourite hobby (e.g. expensive art supplies if you're an artist, etc.)

breakfast in bed !!

in your underwear, sun coming in through the windows

definitely the kind of guy to get ballons and banners to decorate the house with

(which is embarrassing but also wholesome)

takes you out to dinner at a very tasteful restaurant

you are birthday girl and he won't let you forget it

he's set the bar pretty high sex wise so has to pull out all the stops to make it extra special

clear your diary for the next 3 to 5 hours

("daddy's allowed to treat the birthday girl")

jack dante

forgets your birthday every time

its not that he doesnt care

but he has a lot going on

and keeping track of time whilst he's down in that basement is easier said than done

when you remind him that it is your birthday he gets more excited than you

sends you out to get cake and jelly and ice cream

which you begrudgingly go and get because you really think he might cry if you dont

sex is abundant but when is it not with jack

as it is your birthday he might be kind enough to give you a reach around whilst he rails you

when he actually gets you a present

(usually like a week late)

its either something actually brilliant (like the latest futurist technology (idk what they had in fake-future-2003))

or its something real fucking sleazy like a weirdo dildo ("so you don't get lonely when i'm not around")

doc cochran

would rather die than celebrate his own birthday

but he wants you to be happy on yours

(and every day)

gets you the best present

(where from? he has his ways)

definitely like some first edition copy of a niche book you like (poe, shakespeare, homer, that kind of thing)

makes sure he has no scheduled visits that day and wants to spend as much time with you as possible

(will personally beat Al's ass if he sends for him for no reason)

you spend the day talking about this and that

and he reads to you from the books he got you because goddamn does he have a beautiful voice

gets jewel to bake you a cake !!

gives you some special loving on your special day

this man knows how to take his time

usually he is busy and feels like he doesn't pay enough attention to you

so he makes up for it ten fold on your birthday

grima wormtongue

for a long while your relationship is pretty casual so he doesnt even know when your birthday is

once he actually figures out when your birthday is he wants to do something special

even if he isn't the most... emotionally open person

grima has sticky fingers so he tends to be able to get a hold of things that others cant

gets you something exotic, something you might not of ever even seen before

(think, pineapples or some other middle earth equivalent delicacy)

you appreciate him going out of his way for you

makes an excuse for you to leave meduseld with him

you go up to the fields and look out at the horizon

tommy ludlow

you both bunk off work to spend the day together

he is excellent at buying present(s)

knows exactly what to get you because he's a good listener

definitely gets you a record or new clothes

neither of you have much money so all your plans are always simple

but tommy is the perfect person to just hang out with, he's so mellow when he's with you

has no plans for the day except letting you do whatever you want

you drive around the city

end up going by the natural history museum

(because both of you are actually secretly soft and love holding hands and wandering around the exhibits)

or the met (because you both know your fair share about art, working around fashion shoots all day)

that night you go to some shady dive bar

(and drink too much, if that is your thing)

tumbling in through your front door, you two were never going to make it to the bedroom

"happy birthday" he smirks against you as you both lay, tired, on the living room floor

leo nova

spends so much money on you

mostly because he likes to show off his money

("when can i treat my girl to all that she deserves if not on her birthday?")

but partly because gift giving is his love language, or at least the only way he feels comfortable showing that he cares

a new dress that costs more than the rent on your old apartment, shoes that cost twice as much

takes you to the fanciest restaurant possible

and then fucks you in the dirtiest way possible when you get home

and he can go all night long

*wink wink*

tucker cleveland

hasnt celebrated his own birthday in years so has kind of forgot that birthdays are a thing

remembers yours like 3 days before and kicks himself for leaving it so late to get you a present

(you help him out by giving hint to what you want in the run up to your birthday)

keeps the whole thing very lowkey

which you don't mind, you're not into big celebrations anyway

he does get you a gift in time, thanks to your hints

he's probably at work during the day

but after he gets home and you have dinner together, he hands over his present

although you sort of already knew what it'd be, its definitely the thought that counts with tucker

"and the best is yet to come, don't you worry" he says smiling

of course, the real present is him pounding you over the table

(because who has the time to go up to bed)

#brad dourif x reader #charles lee ray x reader #jack dante x reader #billy bibbit x reader #sheriff brackett x reader #grima wormtongue x reader #doc cochran x reader #tommy ludlow x reader #tucker cleveland #leo nova #charles lee ray #ahh i actually had already started writing this in anticipation for my own birthday when i got the request #i never do anything for my birthday but our all of them want to treat you (sort of) #jack just wants to party #and grima is too emotionally repressed #at least billy and doc and the sheriff are pulling through for you #thank you for the request !! i love interacting with people and knowing people actually like these is very exciting #especially as the fandom is so small so im glad i can cater to you guys :))) #also i realised after writing that the request technically said s/o but i always write fem reader so i hope this is still okay ?? #slashers x reader

[ettawritesnstudies]

Space dragons!!!! I'm curious, how do you think they'd navigate? I'm thinking about birds and magnetic fields, or sailors and stars, but both those things have complications when you're in literal space (aaaahh I'm so excited by this idea! Congrats on the very cool concept)

thank you!!!! I am very excited about it too. I have been yelling at @siarven about it nonstop for a week I'm sure they're sick of me by now (thank you quinn <3).

quickly googles magnetic fields because I got a B minus in E&M a year ago during quarantine and don't remember any of it

ok disclaimer all of the ahead is magic-technobabble and only somewhat-plausable theorizing on the part of a chemical engineering junior who should really be doing their mass separations homework.

The earth's magnetosphere is caused by the dynamo effect because the inside our our planet's outer core is made of molten iron and nickel alloy that's spinning really heckin fast and creating an electromagnetic field that encases the planet. It functions as a shield to keep our planet from getting blasted with UV rays and solar winds, which is quite useful for enabling survival and makes pretty auroras whenever they hit near the poles.

The catch is that asteroids don't have cores, much less molten ones. They're too small for gravity to make that happen. But what I am wondering is if the movement of the asteroids themselves (if enough of them were made of metal instead of rock) would generate a magnetic field in kind of a donut shape around the entire asteroid belt following the right hand rule, where the "current flow" isn't electrical flow but the movement of asteroids... If the magnetic field plausibly existed, I could then handwave that the dragons could have the ability to sense it and follow it home. Let me go bug one of my physics friends and get back to you on that.

“Real science” aside, my magic system is already loosely based off electromagnetism. There are 6 main kinds of magic that fall under two groups. External magic means you can effect the world around you but don’t hold any energy/power inside yourself, and includes manipulation, amplification, and nullification. Internal magic means you struggle to control what the magic does once it leaves your body, but you always carry a store of power, and includes generation, storage, and release. Everything has a magical “fingerprint” - most people have one favored type but can dabble in the others in their group with effort and training, while plants, animals, rocks, ect. all default to a “natural state.”

I could also say that each world has it’s own magical fingerprint that’s an average/accumulation of everything living on it’s surface + the makeup of the rock/metal in the asteroid itself. (and oh hey that gives me an idea for my universe as a whole...and names in runaways... maybe this could fix my connection issue)... Memorizing a planet’s magical signal would be kind of like like memorizing a song based only on the frequency waves without hearing it ever. But things that are born on that world share a part of that waveform in their own magical DNA. A dragon could find their way home by finding which planet resonates with their magic!

And of course constellations would be a way to navigate - just because you leave the planet doesn’t mean the whole sky changes so long as you stay in your same solar system. Yes the perspective would move, but bouncing around the asteroid ring would be the equivalent of our sky changing from summer to winter or the northern to southern hemispheres. It would be a lot to keep track of, but anyone who can can memorize/bring along a star map and a good sense of direction and they’d probably be ok.

#worldbuilding wednesday #wbw #ask answered #worldwanderer

[mochis-interlude]

wristbound || giyuu

this is just a little thank you for 100 followers. i hope you’ll enjoy + feeback is always appreciated! <3

↠ pairing. giyuu x fem! reader

↠ genre. fluff, angst

↠ warnings. memory loss/amnesia, minor character death, murder, graphic scenes, blood, language, implied sex work (nothing explicit)

↠ words. 11.2k

↠ summary. the little red bracelet you made when the two of you were nothing but kids, it reminded giyuu that he was always tied to your wrist.

not even your sudden disappearance could snap the wristband in two.

"[Name] didn't cause any trouble, did she?" Your brother, Haruto, was out of breath as he took a seat next to two raven-haired women who were your best friend's mother and his sister. The mother laughed, shaking her head as she already knew what happened; Haruto had once again lost sight of you and you ran away to them. Ran away to Giyuu, more specifically. 

"Not at all. By now, you should know that we love having [Name] over," she said, her blue eyes setting on the two children playing in the garden amongst flowers and butterflies. The mother's gaze softened with each passing second, heart feeling full and hopeful for her son's future. 

Tsutako's eyes followed her mom's line of sight curiously and found her younger brother proudly showing you the butterfly he caught by sheer luck. However, your eyes were glued to Giyuu's face instead of the butterfly. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she imagined a future for her younger brother where you were by his side through it all. "They'd make a great couple when they're older, no?" 

"Pardon me?!" Voice high-pitched, Haruto choked on his spit and ended up coughing into the sleeves of his haori. You with that boy? Impossible. Just after you were born, he promised father to take care of you, to protect you! What could a boy like Giyuu do besides catching pretty butterflies? 

Haruto was about to protest, his overprotective side over you kicking in, but he was left with an open mouth and every word dying on his tongue when your laughter bounced throughout the garden. It was a rare sound he usually didn't hear. The most Haruto would get out of you was a chuckle and a half-hearted smile which you put on like a carefully molded mask. 

You were so small and so, so young when your eyes witnessed a monster eating your parents, blood covering the place that used to be such a loving and warm home. Crimson stained the walls and the floor, organs lying about like furniture. Haruto was able to chase the monster into the early sunrise and brought its end. 

Haruto never thought you'd remember that event. 

Yet there you were, vibrantly laughing with the Tomioka boy until tears would brim your eyes, until you used up all of your energy and fell asleep in Haruto's strong arms. Maybe being with Giyuu was the equivalent of salve for your soul. 

Maybe, Tsutako was right. When the two of you grew up, you'd make a fine couple. 

"Yeah..they would," he finally agreed. 

"Here! I made these for us!" Your small hands revealed two crimson bracelets made of simple thread that you had gotten in town with your big brother. A toothy grin stretched your lips apart, revealing that one of your front teeth was missing; pride and joy was written all over your face. 

With wide eyes, Giyuu reached for one of the bracelets, looked at the gift and then back at you. "Why? It's no one's birthday today," the raven-haired kid said with an innocent tilt of his head. It wasn't that Giyuu didn't appreciate your gift, it was quite the opposite! But he also knew that your brother made just enough money to bring food to the table, so he couldn't help but feel guilty that you spent money on a gift. 

"So you never forget me, silly!" Your laugh filled the garden rich with various flowers and vegetables growing from the earth. Taking the bracelet from Giyuu's grasp, you carefully tied the simple thread around his wrist until it casually sat against his skin and wouldn't slip off. 

Forgetting you sounded ridiculous to Giyuu ㅡ why would he ever forget about his clumsy best friend? He didn't quite understand, and yet, maybe his heart did, because without realizing it, Giyuu tied your own bracelet around your wrist. The knot was far from perfect, but it was enough. 

"Besides, you must always remember that I'm never far and always with you, okay?" A blush sat upon your cheeks as you intertwined your pinky finger with Giyuu and brought them up to eye-level, tying him into a promise of a lifetime. Your heart desired nothing more than to spend a life filled with your best friend and your big brother. 

"P-promised.." Giyuu's heart fluttered, his face heated up.

But happiness was a sandcastle. 

It only took 3 months for the waves to come crashing down and take the lives of not only your brother, but Giyuu's family, as well, leaving the two of you orphaned.

However, just because you were a girl, didn't mean that Urokodaki went any easier on you. How often had you found yourself getting knocked on your back, although all you could do was blink? Incredible, you thought to yourself each and every day, even challenging Giyuu and Sabito to practice your falls and build up strength during the night until your body was bruised, possibly even ached at the mere thought to move any more.

It was a fortunate stroke of luck that Urokodaki found Giyuu and you wandering through a small village in search of shelter, taking the two of you in along with a boy named Sabito. He raised the three of you into fine swordsmen while also making sure that you had enough to eat, a place to sleep and everything that came along with a place called home. 

Despite the harsh training, you always had fun and treasured each day you got to spend with the two boys who were like brothers to you. It was the small moments making you laugh and suffer alike; like Urokodaki throwing Giyuu into the river to "become water" or how the old man smacked Sabito's stomach whenever the tension in his stomach wasn't enough for the breathing techniques. 

One night before the final selection, the warmth of flames and the smell of soup filled the space just outside of Urokodaki's small home with the three kids gathered around the small fire. It was a starry night filled with an exceptionally rich moon, the view accompanied by the sound of laughter. 

"They say you are what you eat but [Name] still isn't soup," Sabito chuckled as you slurped your tenth bowl of soup empty until no drop remained in the pristine bowl. The peach-haired boy was convinced that you had a bottomless pit as a stomach, he was always astonished at the amount you managed to eat in one sitting. 

"You say that like I ate a lot," you pouted at Sabito's small poke, but never took it seriously. Shoulders casually shrugged it off while you were basking in the warmth the small fire provided. Although it was far from being cold, the breeze in the mountains was still chilly and liked to nip at your cheeks. 

Next to you, Giyuu laughed and the glow of the flames dipped his face in an orange hue, making your heart jump within your ribcage. Painfully, you had come to realize that as you grew up with Giyuu, the boy made your heart flutter in a way which certainly wasn't fair. Perhaps..you did have a crush on your best friend, but you'd never say it out loud. 

"[Name], you ate more than Sabito and I combined." Giyuu's laughter died down as he brought his own bowl to his lips and sipped the steaming broth Urokodaki had cooked just for the three of you.

Whenever everyone gathered to have dinner and Sabito would be amazed at your appetite, it reminded Giyuu of all the times you'd come over to his family's place and eat with them. Haruto would scold you for eating too much, Mother would laugh and gladly make you another plate while Giyuu would always give you the veggies he didn't like. 

"It's called having a healthy appetite, Giyuu. Your points are invalid," you declared with a dismissive wave of your hand and snickered as you saw your best friend's shoulders slump at your words.

Peaceful moments like these were rare with the training you went through daily and the upcoming final selection made every day a little bit more tense. Of course, you were aware of Sabito's and Giyuu's polished skills and had confidence in your own swordsmanship, but it was a fact that no one knew what would happen in those seven days. 

"[Name] isn't wrong about this." Urokodaki put some extra wood into the fire, flames licking at the bork and effectively melting the layer away. The Tengu mask made it impossible to look at Urokodaki's face, but judging by his tone, the former Hashira had to wear a serious expression on his face. 

"Let me tell you one thing. Just like humans, demons gain their strength from the humans they consume. The more a demon has eaten, the stronger it is." Everyone listened to Urokodaki's words with perked ears and curious eyes as if they could study the information like a book. "Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"If they're stronger, their neck also gets tougher to cut, right?" Sabito still cupped his empty bowl to warm up his hands. He didn't sound nervous at all, if anything, he was nothing but confident in himself which was something you admired. Sabito was like a strong boulder that one could always rely on. 

Urokodaki nodded his head. "Yes."

Giyuu saw the way you unconsciously bit your bottom lip, how your nails dug themselves into the ground and fingers occasionally fumbled with a bit of grass. Whenever you started feeling insecure, you'd always bite your lip or the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours which Giyuu had caught on to years ago. 

As Giyuu got older, he grew more hesitant at holding your hand in a reassuring way. Although Sabito would never tease him about it, there was something special tickling in his belly whenever he reached for your hand. It made red rush to his cheeks, but the smile you gave him afterwards was worth the embarrassment he felt. 

"Thank you," you mouthed, Giyuu exhaled shakily. 

You made his heart feel too funny with the tiniest of things.

Footwear left deep prints in the muddy earth, high trees and thick bushes made it hard to see what was next, but you had to push through whatever lurked around the next corner. 

After all, this was the second day of the final selection. 

It was all about surviving 7 days in a forest filled to the brim with demons who were close to starvation. Kill or be killed, it was. 

You were lucky not to have encountered any nasty demon and only had to worry about what you should eat next, but you thought of it as a bad omen. There was no way in hell the three of you could have so much luck and even if that was the case, it felt like those two days, devoid of any fight, took up all the luck you were supposed to have in one lifetime. 

"Watch out, it's slippery!" Sabito ran down a small hill and nearly fell, but caught his balance just in time. He swore he saw a squirrel which he could cook later, but the animal sure was quick to run away from being eaten. 

You were right behind Sabito, but much more careful than he was and slid down the hill on instinct. It had rained the entire day, so of course, the ground would be slippery, muddy and filled with puddles.

"Ah!"

Looking back, you saw Giyuu sitting on the wet ground and pressing a hand to his forehead. You went back, wanting to see what had gone wrong, but as you got closer, you saw blood severely dripping from his forehead, over his eyelids and down his cheeks. Not even his sword was to be seen anywhere; he possibly lost it just now. 

"Giyuu, can you walk?" You offered him your hand which the boy gratefully took, but he couldn't seem to properly pull himself to his feet, his gaze seemed fuzzy, unfocused. 

Scanning the area, you saw a small rock with fresh splatters of blood on it. So that was why.. 

A heavy trauma to the head. No wonder Giyuu was somewhere between unconsciousness and reality.

"Don't worry, we got this." Calmly, you examined the bleeding wound and pushed the uneven fringe out of the way to get a better look at it. Giyuu hissed when your finger brushed over the injury. "Sabito, can you watch out for demons? Just in case."

Sabito pulled his sword out of its sheath and protectively stood in front of Giyuu and you, one arm stretched out to his side to block the view of you patching up his friend. "Got it." 

What were you supposed to do without any bandages? You scanned the area in hopes of finding something, anything that could slow down the bleeding, but all you saw was earth, leaves and some bushes. Stupid, to think that you'd magically see a pharmacy in the woods. 

Then, your eyes settled on the sleeve of your haori. It took you no longer than a moment to unsheath your sword, cut through the fabric and tightly tie it around Giyuu's forehead who groaned in pain. "I'm sorry," you mumbled and finished the improvised banades up with a tight knot. 

You were about to help Giyuu back on his feet, but at once, the ground shook beneath you in rhythmical periods. 

"There's something!" Sabito breathed more to himself, but you were able to catch it with your senses suddenly heightened by the incoming rush of adrenaline. Giyuu still applied pressure to his injury, his sight switching from complete nothingness to what was happening around him.

Instantaneously, your eyes widened in horror at the demon that was trudging towards the three of you and giggled as it swallowed another kid that he managed to eat. 

He was deformed to the bone, several hands hugged its tall, green body. Eyes, disgustingly big, stared at Sabito, then you and Giyuu before his hands began scratching at his skin in an anxious, excited manner. 

"Ohh! Urokodaki is feeding me even more kids than usual this time! I bet the three of you are delicious! I can only imagine the face he'll make when three students won't make it back to him!" 

Sabito planted both of his feed into the ground, the tip of his sword pointed at the demon's neck. "[Name], you protect Giyuu. I'll lop off the head." As soon as the words left Sabito's mouth, Giyuu was about to protest but stumbled back into your body, your arms catching him before he could trip, again. 

"Be careful." You nodded at Sabito and took a defensive stance right in front of Giyuu, holding the blade right next to your head while your hands were grasping the handle tightly. As blue eyes watched your back, watched his two best friends fight, Giyuu felt as helpless as the night his family got massacred. 

All he could do was watch. 

Perversely large hands dashed at Sabito who leapt through those which didn't radiate murderous intent and cut off the hands aiming for his body. He jumped on one of the demon's arms, dodging a fist coming his way by ducking low and sliding along the green skin. 

You blocked a fist with the help of your sword and got pushed back a few meters before you twisted the handle in your grasp, abruptly slicing through the fist from below. "Are you okay, Giyuu?!" 

As much as you wanted to take a look back and check up on him, you absolutely couldn't take your eyes off the battle or else, the demon could get Giyuu or even the both of you. 

While you were stepping in puddles of blood, cutting those disgusting hands off and had to focus on not taking a lethal hit, you still worried about Giyuu. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest. If only he knew where his sword was, then he'd force himself to fight alongside Sabito and you!

"Don't worry about me, [Name]!" 

You were so busy concentrating on what was happening in front of you that you failed to notice the one hand underneath your feet. Before you could even think about using a breathing technique or leaping up into the air, the hand wrapped itself around your ankle and threw you away like you were nothing but a fly. 

"[Name]!" Saito and Giyuu shouted your name in unison, watching in horror as you flew farther away with each second. 

You desperately stretched one of your arms out in the desperate hope of being able to grab on to a branch and get back to the fight, but it was wishful thinking. 

"I'll come back!" You cried out until your vocal chords protested and nearly gave in. The air in your lungs became needles. "Until then, survive, got it?! You must survive!" 

"Whatever you do, you've got to survive!" Hands clinging to the katana you carried with you, you screamed at the top of your lungs one last time. Bit by bit, your friends seemed to become dots. "Survive! Sabito! Giyuu!"

Sabito clenched his jaw, teeth grinding against one another as anger bubbled deep within his heart and threatened to spill like an overflowing sink. 

He charged at the demon with a yell and got so very close to the neck, ready to chop it off when his blade suddenly snapped into two. 

Giyuu watched in horror as the demon used Sabito's surprised state to his advantage and smashed his friend's head in. 

All he could do was watch. 

All he could do was run.

Agonizingly, your body collided with the hard ground and filled your mouth with blood, several cracking sounds travelled throughout your body like electricity. As you gasped for air, you nearly choked on your own blood and coughed it out, a crimson puddle lingering underneath you. 

You didn't know where exactly you were nor did you know how long it'd take you to get back to your friends, but you had to find a way. No matter how much your body ached, no matter how loudly every fiber of your body screamed at you to stop, you couldn't. 

It was through pure will that you managed to bury the tips of your fingers into the dirt and drag yourself to your blade lying a few meters in front of you. Your view was blurry, but you still managed to make out that the Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you had snapped in half and it had you mentally laughing. 

He was going to break your bones, wasn't he? 

"Just a little bit.." You croaked out with your hand desperately reaching for the handle of the katana. Just a little bit more, just a few more centimeters and the handle would be back in your broken hand, but just before you could even touch it, your arm limply fell to the ground. As much as you wanted to move, forced yourself to go that one extra step, your body didn't listen.

Gradually, black hugged the corners of your view and the ability to hear slowly faded into nothing. No longer could you feel the ground below you or smell the scent of the trees surrounding you; opaque came to envelope you and drag you to the depths of unconsciousness. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks, dampening the earth below you and eventually soaking the collar of the haori you wore. You had promised Urokodaki to come back, you had promised to live a long life, you had promised to stay by Sabito's and Giyuu's side and now, you couldn't even promise to move your finger. 

"Giyuu.. Sabito.. Forgive me, but I won't make it back.." 

The last thing you saw was the moon reflected in the broken blade and the red bracelet firmly wrapped around your wrist.

Three days had been spent looking for you in hopes of finding you only injured, but still alive. Three days without a clue of where you could be, but Giyuu clung to the slim hope of you lying somewhere in these cursed woods, unconscious but well. 

It was that thread of hope that kept his hand glued to the blade, kept his head up and forced his gaze to look ahead. 

Feet had run through countless rough patches until blisters hurt Giyuu, but he simply ran through them until his feet got sore and he would be damned if he stopped running at that very moment. After all, persistence and determination would pay off, right? The strong-willed would always be rewarded after going through hell and back. 

Nearing a river, Giyuu spotted a broken katana as well as smudges of blood on the ground and immediately slid down the small hill he was on. In his rush, he stumbled over his feet and fell to his knees right next to the blade which he knew was yours. 

The thread of hope finally snapped. 

Frantically, he scanned the area for any sign of you being alive, but all he found was the dried puddle of blood and the snapped Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you just before heading off for this damned final selection. 

With shaking fingers, Giyuu picked up the handle of the sword, hot tears streaming down his face. "[Name]..?" His voice was fragile, on the verge of breaking with every second spent in deafening silence. Giyuu couldn't find it in him to get up, his knees felt like broken mirrors which would stab into his flesh and force him to kneel, regardless of what he desperately wanted to do.

"Please, this isn't funny!" The raven-haired boy called out and tears began blurring his vision, sniffles and choked back sobs rocked his body. "[Name]!" Giyuu hugged the handle of your katana to his chest as he curled up into himself and sobbed into the new day that had just begun. 

Why did the universe take away every person he loved so dearly? 

First, it was his family, then Sabito and you that got ripped from his grasp, lives he treasured more than anything else, people who he would've died for. 

"[Name].. You promised to come back.." The boy murmured to no one and let his eyes travel to the wristband you had made so many years ago. It was physical proof that you were always with him and never far, that he would never forget you and that your lives were intertwined like the sun and the moon. 

"Give me [Name] back.."

It was at this moment that a Demon Hunter of higher rank called out to a whimpering Giyuu and brought him back to where the final selection started, a place filled with beautifully blooming wisteria. 

Everyone came back. 

Everyone except for you and Sabito. 

How was Giyuu supposed to face Urokodaki after this?

Lead flowed through every single vein as Giyuu dragged himself back to Urokodaki's home, body heavy with the strain of surviving for 7 days straight, but compared to the gilt gnawing away at his heart, it was bearable. 

If only he hadn't gotten injured, then maybe Sabito would still be alive, standing right next to him with an equally aching body but still smiling through the pain because they would've made it. 

If only Giyuu had gotten to the river a bit earlier, you'd be swooning over Urokodaki's food and excitedly tell the elder man about all the achievements and experiences you gained. You, too, would be alive and smiling. 

The young boy stopped dead in his tracks as his blue eyes spotted Urokodaki chopping up some wood with an axe which the former Hashira dropped when his gaze fell upon Giyuu. 

Sadness lingered in Urokodaki's nose and was quick to mix with relief of still being alive, yet Giyuu reeked of regret, grief and sorrow. He couldn't blame the young boy. Urokodaki knew how attached Giyuu was to Sabito and you. The three of you would always train together, share food among one another like you were siblings and cut worries in half simply by being present. 

Giyuu was desperately trying to bite back new sobs and tears, since Sabito would be the one to say that a man should suffer in silence. On the other hand, there was you who looked so upset when he once tried to hide an injury from you.

"Stop acting tough." You had once said.

The entire sky came crashing down on Giyuu as he felt his teacher's arms wrapping around him to welcome him home, to express gratefulness that he made it back. 

"Sabito and [Name]!" Giyuu could no longer hold his tears at bay, they freely rolled down his cheek like waves crashed into the shore. It was too much and yet not enough. "Urokodaki-san! They.. They..!" His voice broke a little more with each word that Giyuu tried to force out of his throat, but the lump of sorrow cut through his vocal chords. 

"I'm glad you're back," was all Urokodaki managed to say and he hoped it'd take a bit of weight off the young boy's shoulders. He feared that if he tried to speak any more, he would cry more than he already was, as well. During the time as a teacher, Urokodaki had lost so many of his students who grew on him ㅡ Sabito, Giyuu and you were no exception. 

Sadness poked around deeply in his heart, but it was Urokodaki's duty to make sure that his student wouldn't be overcome by his current despair. He knew Giyuu would be able to overcome his sorrow and grow into a good person. 

But first, time needed to heal the wound which was still bleeding so heavily. 

Giyuu rubbed his eyes dry with the sleeve of his haori, took off the small bag he carried on his back and showed Urokodaki the broken blade which had belonged to you. "Do you.. Do you think it can be fixed?" 

Urokodaki took the two parts into his hands and was surprised at how jaded the blade was. It didn't even cut his finger like it was supposed to and the color had disappeared from the sword like it had never been wielded by anyone in the first place. "That can be arranged. I'll ask Haganezuka."

Two weeks passed when Haganezuka arrived with two swords in his hands and nearly lost his mind when Giyuu said that he wasn't a dual wielder and only needed one blade. 

"You little..! What do you mean you can't wield both?! It'd be disgraceful not to wield both Nichirin blades!" Haganezuka screeched loud enough for his voice to echo through every corner of Mount Sagiri. It took so long to make the broken sword look like it had never been broken and this brat didn't even think about testing it out! 

Giyuu never pulled the blade out of the sheath as you were the one who should do it and witness the change of colors with your own eyes. "I'm sorry." It wasn't necessary to let the swords smith in on the details when he was a stranger. A weird stranger, at that. 

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" 

Despite the strange encounter with Haganezuka who was oddly dedicated to his craft, as Giyuu would put it, the sword was always held close to his heart. It was a reminder of the life Sabito and you gifted him, that he should work harder to be able to protect those around him. 

When Giyuu climbed through the ranks and was able to afford his own estate, the first thing he had hung up was the sword you fought with.

It was 8 years later when bare feet danced on the wooden floor like water flowed through the river. No unnecessary steps, elegance connected every single move like stars made up beautiful constellations which left people in awe each and every time. 

Several women watched with parted lips and sparkling eyes as this person was a constellation herself, someone they could learn and profit from if they watched closely enough. But they knew that this level of accurate and controlled movements required not only effort, but talent as well. 

When feet ceased to float and the music humming in the background died down, one woman in particular ran up to the young dancer, manicured nails squishing the full cheeks together. "Isn't she amazing?" Mizu nearly squeaked with pride and reddened cheeks while receiving agreeing nods from the other women. 

Mizu was an oiran living in Yoshiwara, a red light district. She was rather beautiful with her opaque hair kept into a bun and held together by golden hairpins, her lips painted crimson and fair skin, although most of her pale skin was thanks to the help of make-up. 

"[Name] really is amazing," one of the women said smiling, her palms on her lap as she agreed with Mizu. 

Such praise was often thrown your way only because Mizu was in the room. No one dared to openly point out your mistakes and actively help you improve your skills, so you had no choice but to ask the women yourself when Mizu was out of hearing-range. 

This issue wasn't the only thing keeping everyone on the edge of their seat. 

Whenever a severe mistake happened, that woman was sure to disappear within the next night. Stomping could clearly be heard, you swore the mere sound gave off a murderous intent so intense that it left you shaking underneath the security of your blankets. 

When asking if one of your fellow workers could also sense the blood lust every once in a while, they said no. Apparently, they couldn't feel the immense anger creeping throughout the house like you could which left you confused. However, the fact that your senses were so sharp and sensitive to blood lust made you wonder if you had lived a different life before you woke up in Yoshiwara. 

Actually, you were sure that you had lived differently before finding yourself in Yoshiwara, but your memories were erased. Proof of your previous lifestyle were your calloused palms, the small scars on them which the other women always pitied you for as it apparently wasn't fit for a lady to have rough palms. 

Then there was this wristband which you wore for a reason long forgotten.

All you could remember was your name when you one day woke up on a tatami mat underneath a safe roof with several women in the room. You couldn't answer a single question regarding your past, the years of your life suddenly drowned in black as you tried your best to remember what happened, what caused the pain in your body, but it was no good. 

"Thank you for your kind words. If you'd excuse me." As you turned around to leave for the bathrooms, you felt Mizu's eyes on your back and you knew that she had nothing but love swimming in her dark eyes, and yet, you sensed something much deeper, so much darker lurking within them that a shiver rolled down your spine. 

One woman responsible for today's cleaning stood next to the highly-respected oiran. "Wherever you picked [Name] up from, it's a gift you found her. She might as well take your place someday, Mizu-san."

A gift you were indeed, but the way you danced bugged Mizu. It reminded her of the fighting techniques of Demon Slayers. Filthy. "Yeah. Who knows what might've happened to her if it was someone else that found her.." Mizu brought the sleeve of her kimono up to her lips, hiding the lower part of her face and tilted her head to the side as she watched you disappear behind shoji doors, briefly remembering where she had found you nearly a decade ago.

"Oh my, what a poor thing." Mizu knelt down to where you laid on the ground, your breathing was shallow and your hand outstretched as if reaching out to the sword in front of you. Manicured nails pushed your bangs out of your face and traced the bruises along your cheek and neck, feeling that your jaw was, indeed, broken. 

"You'd look beautiful without all these ugly stains," she mused while twisting a strand of your dirtied hair around her index finger, crimson red lips frowned at the miserable state you were in. So far gone, you couldn't even hear her voice, feel her touch.

Reaching behind her head, Mizu took two hairpins out of her hair and styled your hair into a bun, the hairpins keeping the look somewhat together. You reminded her of the daughter she once had before the small child suddenly died. Mizu desired nothing more than to have her daughter back and you were the perfect fit. 

"You'd make a beautiful oiran, one day. Maybe I should make you my daughter." Mizu smiled into the night at the thought of having a daughter, such a stunning one, too. With her, you'd be better off than with those filthy slayers if the sword in front of you was anything to go by. She could give you all the riches you desired, all the kimonos, money, men and women you could ever want. 

Those Demon Hunters could only offer you death. 

"From today on, you'll be my lovely daughter," Mizu cheered and poked at your cheek to maybe gain a reaction, but all she heard was an incoherent mumble of names she had never heard of. Unimportant, these people no longer mattered. 

Carefully, Mizu picked you up with a smile and disappeared into the night.

The water was pleasantly warm against your skin as you washed the heavy make-up off your face, several colors went down the drain and no longer stuck in place like a mask. Luckily, you didn't have to show your face to any outsider that night, or else the amount of make-up would suffocate you. 

A sigh escaped through your lips when your eyes landed on that red wristband, the threads wet and soaked with water, but still perfectly intact. You didn't know why, but your heart always ached a little whenever you thought about its origin and the possible memories connected to this little item. 

Maybe someone important gave it to you? 

Maybe that someone was looking for you and could help you regain your memories! 

Ah, what were you thinking? Stuff like this only existed in romantic novels. 8 years had passed and no one had ever looked for you, you were certain of that. No had ever asked around for you, no one had ever put up a picture of your face, no one had cared enough. 

Whenever you'd ask Mizu about where she found you and what you did before joining the house she lived in, she brushed you off, saying that it was time for your Japanese class, time to practice calligraphy or dancing, when in reality she only wanted you to be distracted and busy. 

"Maybe I should give up and just live with it..," you mumbled into the towel as you dried your face. At least, you would no longer anger Mizu or make the other women nervous when asking anything regarding your past. 

Having made up your mind, you trudged back into your empty room. No matter how many paintings you had hung up, no matter how many clothes filled your wardrobe and no matter how much jewelry Mizu made you wear on your hands and neck, it was empty. 

You were lucky to live, but were you really alive or simply a shell of who you used to be? 

After countlessly tossing and turning, your body finally found some rest and dragged you into a deep slumber.

Streets filled with people were never one of Giyuu's favorites. He preferred executing his job in the mountains where he wouldn't have to hide his sword from the police and didn't have the stress of potentially having to protect a large number of people if a demon was to show up. 

One good thing about cities was the food. The steaming bowl of ramen warmed Giyuu up from within as the chilly evening breeze nipped at his cheeks, tinting the flesh a faint shade of red. 

"It's almost unbelievable that a demon is supposed to be here. Right, Tomioka-san?" Shinobu sat next to Giyuu and enjoyed her own portion of food. Just behind her back, people chattered away and children played tag with each other, from somewhere further away, she could even make out the faint strumming of an instrument. 

Apparently, a demon was hiding somewhere in Yoshiwara. Every few months, women, prostitutes, to be more specific, suddenly disappeared and had never been seen again. Of course, the rumor of those women losing her footing had spread, but this was as waterproof as paper. 

Those women had never shown signs of wanting to run away with a man. Love letters were never found nor did they suddenly receive a good amount of money or saw someone especially frequently. 

"Demons can hide anywhere." Giyuu's ears picked up how some men asked for some lady's services and briefly, the thought of a demon hiding in a brothel crossed his mind. However, he had never heard of a demon seeking refuge in such business since those places were too crowded to commit a proper murder.

"You're not wrong about this." Shinobu sat back in her seat and put her chopsticks on her empty plate before something caught her attention. What was this red bracelet around Giyuu's wrist? Had it always been there or did he get it recently? 

A teasing smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards as she rested her chin on her palm, an index finger pointing at Giyuu's wrist. "Tomioka-san, did you get that wristband from someone special? I didn't know you were the type to be so romantic!" She chirped. 

Blue irises gazed at the red threads laced into one thick wristband which was usually hidden underneath the sleeve of his uniform or haori, so no one really ever saw it. "It's nothing like that." Despite his nonchalant words, Giyuu couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. 

"Eh?! Are you smiling?!" Shinobu could hardly believe her eyes and felt a shiver run down her spine. This was..scary. 

"..We're here to look for a demon, aren't we?"

Attentively, you sat close to a river, eyes wide and scanning the area for a familiar mop of black hair tied into a low ponytail. From afar, you could hear an old man giving someone the instruction to become one with the water in order to master the breathing techniques. 

Just a moment later, a yell echoed through the mountains followed by a noisy splash and the yell got cut off. 

"___-san really threw him into the river, huh," you chuckled as you remembered how you nearly drowned the first time the elderly man tossed you into the river like a rubber duck. Now it was the boy's turn. 

Minutes of silence filled the space around you, only the water flowing in front of you filled the tranquil space and then, several gasps shattered the peaceful atmosphere. 

The boy you had to look out for coughed up water as he dragged himself out of the river, his body soaked to the bone and what was that on his hand? Blood? He possibly cut himself on a stone underwater. 

Leaping up from your seated position and jogging over to your friend, you gave his back a few firm smacks until he breathed normally again. "I feel like ____-san really wants to kill us," the boy looked up at you, but..you couldn't see his face. It was black. 

"Speaking of dying. What was that on your hand?" you spoke and tried to get a look at the boy's hand, but he quickly hid his hands behind his back, pressing the back of his hands against his lower back. "___, show me!" You insisted and eventually, your friend showed you the cut on the back of his hand. 

The cut wasn't deep, but it still bled profusely down his wrist. Clicking your tongue, you reached into your pocket and revealed simple bandages which you always kept with you in case you got injured. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" The boy saw the upset look on your face, brows furrowed and your eyes scolding him. 

Wasn't it his friend that said that a man should bear his pain in silence? 

"I'm sorry, [Name]," he avoided your gaze, focusing on the bracelet you had once made for him, instead. It was better than having to bear the disappointment in your eyes. 

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around the boy's hand a bit too tight, making him flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

In a cold sweat, gasping for air, you suddenly sat straight in bed. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, your sleepwear was drenched in sweat at your neck and back, the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Putting a hand on your chest, you tried your best to control your breathing, but the more you tried, the more you could feel a headache stinging in the back of your head. 

Whatever you just saw, it was a mere dream, right? Yet, one could usually hear names and see the faces of the people appearing in a dream, but whenever names fell, they were muted. Whenever you saw a face, it was covered in black. 

They were nameless, faceless people. 

Perhaps, this was a memory? 

"Crap," you hissed as the stinging got to your eyes like a migraine and roughly pushed the blanket off your body as you got up to maybe talk about it with Mizu or someone else. Yes, you promised not to bother anyone with your dreams or past, but this left your hands and mind shaking. 

Carefully, as to not make any noise, your bare feet padded along the wooden hallways, every shoji door was shut and no light was on, indicating that all of the women were busy with men downstairs. What a pain, you thought. Keeping married and single men pleased at night was something which never appealed to you, even though Mizu had raised you to possess the needed skills. 

Lost in thought, you nearly missed how the light of several candles lit up a single room, the shoji door wasn't even fully closed. You finally found someone! 

"I'm sorry for bothering you this late at night, but I was wondering ifㅡ"

You were greeted by the sight of blood being smeared across the wall and pooling right at your feet, bones sticking out from the corpse of the woman who had praised you earlier. Your head screamed at you to run, but your body didn't listen. It was itching to reach for something that wasn't strapped to your hip.

"It's a shame you had to see me like this, [Name]." Opaque hair was loose, red lipstick got replaced by the dead woman's blood which was also dripping down claws.

Mizu tossed the corpse away from her and faced you, slowly approaching you with cold steps. Her pupils were no longer round but resembled that of a cat. Smirking, she watched as your legs trembled in fear when she delicately cupped your face in her hand. "I promised myself to never eat you unless you saw me killing someone. But maybe it's exactly because you are my daughter that you'll be extra nutritious."

Horns made of bones stuck out from Mizu's head, resembling the ears of a bunny. At that very moment, you heard a voice inside your head.

"Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"Demon!" You gasped, pushed Mizu away from you with all the strength you had in your arms and made a run for it. Splinters dug into the soles of your feet, but you didn't care. What mattered was your survival, your life, the life Haruto and Tsutako left behind for you! 

Wait, Haruto and Tsutako..? Who..?

You stopped dead in your tracks, the sound of Mizu's traditional heels rhythmically clicking against the floor haunted you. 

Fleeing downstairs was no option. Innocent lives could easily be taken by Mizu and there was no way you could protect all of them when you couldn't even properly protect yourself. Panic-stricken, your eyes found nothing but paintings decorating the walls, a mere fan and a..

A katana!

Grabbing the katana from the wall, you held it with both hands as tightly as you could, the tip pointing at Mizu's neck. 

"You're hilarious, [Name]! Don't tell me you're remembering now when it's too late." Mizu pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder as she laughed at your poor attempt to take her down. However, it seemed like your body was beginning to remember whatever a fragile human once taught you and it wasn't like you had completely forgotten how to move, either. 

A laugh shook the demon's shoulders as she stretched her palm out and let a bone grow from her skin. Mizu pointed the sharp bone towards you, shooting it in your direction with the expectation to heavily injure you and kill you in the end. 

What she didn't expect was the way you vertically cut through the bone, letting drop to the ground uselessly. Your jaw was clenched, eyes wide open with sweat trickling down your forehead and the katana in your hand like it had always belonged there. 

"I don't know what you're saying, but I know that I can't let you live!" Zooming right in Mizu's face, you aimed for her stomach to weaken her, but she was faster. Grabbing your head, she effectively put you off-balance and rammed another bone into your side as if she saw no daughter in you. 

"You've always had a funny side to you, but right now, you're looking like a jester. You, killing me? Not even you are that dumb." Mizu wore an unimpressed expression as you fell to your knees and coughed up blood. Hastily, you ripped a good amount of fabric from your yukata and tightly wrapped it around your waist to slow down the bleeding. 

The demon never stopped you. Sooner or later, you'd faint and die from blood loss. This was nothing but a fool's attempt to desperately prolong their end. 

"That katana can't kill me. As a former Demon Slayer, you should know that only a Slayer's blade and sunlight can kill a demon." A swift kick to your face had blood dripping down your nose, but your palm wrapped itself around Mizu's ankle tight enough to make your arm's veins pop, tight enough to prevent her, a demon, from moving.

"Breathing Techniques make it possible for a human to gain demonic strength themselves. But unlike demons, a human's stamina is limited."

Within a moment, Mizu's ankle was in your hand, her blood flowing down your forearm as you tossed the cut off limb away. Immediately, you pulled her into a close-range fight, but the several bones beginning to stick out from her body pushed you further away with each step you took. The sharp bones left cuts on not only your face, but your arms and legs as well. 

"I don't care if it can't kill you! I refuse to go down without a fight! I'll simply keep you busy until the sun rises!"

Searching for that demon in Yoshiwara was a lost cause. 

No one had any suspicions or those people were just too scared to talk, fearing that they might mysteriously disappear, as well. The tension in Yoshiwara spread far and wide, yet there wasn't even the trace of a demon to be found. 

"We can't talk. Otherwise, we'll disappear, as well."

"Those women are said to have lost their footing, but.. No, it doesn't matter."

"..Whatever are you talking about?"

Excuses upon excuses. But Giyuu could hardly interrogate simple passengers and ask them about the existence of a being which they were unaware of or didn't believe in. 

Frustrated, he shut the shoji door of his home and sighed. 

Suddenly, a shrill clink bounced off the plain walls of Giyuu's home and as he raised his gaze, he saw the Nichirin sword ㅡ which was supposed to be yours if you had survived ㅡ on the floor, the steel shone in the moonlight peeking through the windows of his home. 

His heart felt heavy as he wondered what color your katana would have become, how you would've wielded it, how bright your smile would've been if you had had the chance to receive it. 

Giyuu picked the colorless weapon up, wanted to put it back on its place at the wall when suddenly his kasugai crow landed on the window sill, cawing so loudly that it made his ears ring. 

"[Name] who was assumed to have died in the final selection 8 years ago, needs backup fighting a demon!" The old crow impatiently bounced around, wings already spread and ready to take off. "Hurry to Yoshiwara! Hurry, hurry! " 

"[Name]..?" Gradually, Giyuu's usually calm gaze widened and filled with infinite questions while he was wordlessly staring at your sword. Why were you alive and how in the world did you survive? Why did you never come back? What held you back? 

With a flick of his wrist, he hid the plain Nichirin blade in the sleeve of his mismatched haori and was out of his home faster than the crow could perceive. 

The Hashira couldn't be late. He couldn't be late, again. 

This time, he'd be the one to protect you.

"Get out of here!" You cried to the people who had been very obviously enjoying themselves with alcohol, food and women until Mizu had kicked you through the floor which was also the ceiling of the floor below. 

No one seemed to fully realize what happened, reality only kicked in slowly when they took note of your battered form and Mizu coming down the stairs as elegantly as ever, but the blood on her and the aura she radiated created nothing but fear. 

All of a sudden, they screamed and ran, talking about a monster possessing their beloved lady who was attempting to kill one of their own. 

Making sure that everyone got out safely was a mistake. You didn't even realize Mizu leaving her spot on the stairs as she was suddenly right in front of you, way too close to be considered a safe distance. Crap, there was no way you'd get out of this unscathed. 

The bone sticking out from Mizu's palm aimed for your right eye, ready to pierce through your skull and put an end to the prosperous life you could lead thanks to the demonic woman. In an act of despair, you swung your katana vertically in an attempt to cut off her arm, but Mizu just smirked as the blade got stuck, not even budging a centimeter, anymore. 

This was it. This attack would be your downfall, you thought. 

"Water Breathing. Second form: Water Wheel."

You stumbled backwards, falling on your knees and all your eyes could catch was Mizu's arm suddenly dropping to the ground along with the katana stuck in her flesh. Blood stained the carpet an ugly red, a loud hiss came from Mizu's direction, her pupils shaking and mouth unusually quiet.

"A..H-Hashira..?" Claws digged into the flesh of her palm bit by bit, her fist shook and goosebumps were scattered across her skin. Just the mere aura of that Demon Slayer terrified her; he was way too calm and yet she could feel racing anger bubbling underneath the surface. No, she couldn't let a mere human intimidate her. What ridiculous excuse of a demon would get intimidated by a man wielding a sword? 

Hashira..?

Looking up, you saw the broad back of a man wearing a mismatched haori but what stood out to you was the red wristband he wore. It looked like the one around your wrist but could it be the same? What were the odds of two strangers wearing the same red bracelet? Impossible. 

A sudden sting in your head interrupted your running mind.

"Besides, you must always remember that I'm never far and always with you, okay?" A blush sat upon your cheeks as you intertwined your pinky finger with Giyuu and brought them up to eye-level, tying him into a promise of a lifetime.

Fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling at the roots. 

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around Giyuu's hand a bit too tight, making the boy flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

Panting, you closed your eyes shut until it hurt. Why did you feel like you knew the man in front of you?

"Whatever you do, you've got to survive!" Hands clinging to the katana you carried with you, you screamed at the top of your lungs one last time. Bit by bit, your friends seemed to become dots. "Survive! Sabito! ...

..Giyuu!" You finally yelled the man's name out like he was the answer to everything you had been looking for, like he was the missing piece to the puzzle of your life. Unknowingly, tears freely flowed from your eyes, making the cuts on your face sting and burn.

A quick move of his wrist was enough to flick Mizu's blood off his sword. "Don't you dare touch her!" Giyuu wasn't one to lose his calm demeanor often, but what he absolutely couldn't stand was the ones he cared for getting hurt, bruised, made to suffer. 

You wiped the blood trickling from your mouth away with the back of your hand, lips tugging themselves upwards as you pushed yourself up to your feet once more and stood next to Giyuu. "I'll fight with you. This is a personal matter."

Giyuu was about to protest, tell you to leave this place, but the sharp shimmer cutting through your eyes immediately took down every word that was on his tongue. Never had you backed down from a fight, never had you let anything break you, never had you ever given up. 

Wordlessly, he let the katana he hid in the sleeve of the haori, slide into his palm and handed it to you. As soon as your fingers were wrapped around the handle, the blade turned into a clear baby blue, several shades lighter than Giyuu's Nichirin blade. 

"I'll handle the bones. You go for the head."

Giyuu dashed ahead while you cut your way through the maze of bones sticking out from wherever Mizu desired, her attacks got rougher as if she was suddenly frightened. Good. "You brat! Do you really think one more person would be enough to claim my head?!" Mizu stomped her foot once. 

That stomping.. You were familiar with it. 

It'd occur once every few months before a woman would go missing without a trace. This action always frightened you as the murderous intent in it was so overwhelming that unconsciously, tears would brim your eyes.

Quickly, you grabbed the back of Giyuu's haori and slid to the side with him before several rib-shaped bones dashed up from the ground, their sharp tips shining underneath the chandelier. If you hadn't been so familiar with Mizu's blood lust, you were sure you would've been pierced pork by now. 

Thanks to the sliding, you had gotten close enough to Mizu, giving you the perfect opportunity to chop off her head before she could cause any more pain and damage. "Go!" You cried out loud enough for your voice to crack and swung your blade at Mizu's face to slice her horizontally, the demon stopping your blade with her bare hands. 

"Water Breathing. First form: Water Surface Slash." 

Giyuu had gotten behind Mizu and let his katana cut through the flesh of her neck, the head of the oiran sliding off her shoulders and her body collapsing to the ground. "Impossible!" She screeched in nothing but anger and disappointment at you. 

"You ungrateful bitch! I saved and raised you and this is how you repay the favor?! How dare youㅡ!" Tears streamed down her cheeks while you were looking at her with a drained expression. Bruises and cuts stained your skin, not to mention the stab wound in your waist which was still bleeding. Bangs hid your eyes from her view, the smell of ash was strong in your nose.

"I'm very thankful that you raised me, gave me food and a roof above my head. I will never forget that. But making humans suffer by letting them die a painful death, eating them without a shred of guilt in your guts.." The grip on the katana's handle tightened in anger, sadness and grief as you remembered your brother, mother, Tsutako. All those people who were so brave and kind and dead. "Savior, Mother, whatever you are. I absolutely won't forgive you for this!" 

"Do you think that matters?! You're nothing but a whore I raised! You, too, won't go to heaven and I'll wait for you in hell!" Before Mizu could spit any more words, her head and body dissolved into nothing, not even the ashes remained. 

Slowly, you turned around to face Giyuu, a peaceful smile lingered on your lips as you stumbled towards the one your heart had been missing for longer than you could think. Strength left your hand and the katana Giyuu had tossed you earlier fell to the ground. "Giyuu.. I'm so happy you survived.." You tripped over your own two feet, about to fall, but it was okay. 

Giyuu caught you. 

"[Name], I.." He spoke, but soon noticed that you had fallen unconscious with your cheek pressed up against his chest, eyes closed and breathing so calmly in his strong arms. Serenity was written all over your face, despite the dirt, cuts, blood and pain you went through. You were at peace with Giyuu around just like when you two were children. 

His stoic mask shattered as he pressed your unconscious body flush to his and buried a hand in your hair, his knees giving in and meeting the floor with a dull thud. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you earlier." Giyuu buried his face in your neck as he softly cried against your skin, a wave of immense relief hitting him at once. 

At least, you weren't dead like the Hashira believed for nearly 10 years. 

"I swear I'll make sure to protect you."

The sun was warm on your skin, gentle eyes focused on a blue butterfly which had entered through the open window and rested on your index finger. Its small legs tickled you ever so slightly and you struggled to hold in a giggle at the feeling. 

After having fallen unconscious for a day or two, you woke up at the Butterfly Estate where three very sweet girls awaited you coming back to reality; you learned that their names were Sumi, Kiyo and Naho. They brought you everything you needed and frequently kept you company. 

With your eyes opening once more, you also regained your memories. You remembered everything from the day you lost your parents, to the training with Urokodaki, Sabito and Giyuu, to the point you had desperately tried to reach your katana and passed out. Although a little bit of regret lingered at your soul, you couldn't find it in you to be upset with yourself. 

Life continuously knitted several paths for one to take, but it was up to several strings of fortunate and unfortunate events alike which path they'd lead one on. 

Anyone could say you were unlucky to have lost your memories and had to part ways with the ones you loved the most. But if you thought about it, you were very lucky. So very lucky that Mizu had taken you in, that she fought you and that a string of fate decided to intertwine Giyuu's and your path once more. 

The butterfly on your finger flew away as the shoji door slid open and revealed no one else but Shinobu who had watched over your physical and mental state after the confrontation with Mizu. The Insect Hashira was incredibly kind and you felt like you developed some kind of friendship with her. 

As she sat down on your bed to give you the last bit of medicine you had to swallow, you couldn't help but notice her eyes lingering on your wristband. 

"How come you like Tomioka-san?" 

You nearly choked on the pills, heat warmed up your cheeks and the tips of your ears while you stumbled over your words like a child tripped over rocks. "I-I what?! It's nothing like t-that, Shinobu!" Comically, you shook your head and threw your arms around as if that would convince the dark-haired woman. 

"Oh? But Tomioka-san has the exact same wristband and when I asked him about it, he smiled. Do you know how scary that was?"

You couldn't bite back the laugh that ripped through you at Shinobu's words. The fact that Giyuu seemed to smile so rarely that it was considered creepy when he did it, was both ridiculous and funny to you. 

On the other side of the shoji door, Giyuu wondered what could possibly make you laugh so much. He didn't ponder too much on it since this was a sound he hadn't heard in so long and was actually quite fond of. Not that the Water Hashira would ever say that out loud. 

As Giyuu stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by your warm smile and despite the bandaids on your face and bandages around your arms, he was taken aback at how pretty you were. Even after 8 years, you still made his heart feel a certain, funny way with little to no effort at all. 

"I guess I should leave the two of you alone. Although I can't deny that I'm surprised you like Tomioka-san enough to willingly be alone with him."

"I..am not disliked by people."

"That's all you have to say?" Shinobu wondered out loud and left the room, the shoji door closing behind her with a dull thud bouncing off the warmly-colored walls. 

As Giyuu sat with you on the bed, you couldn't help but notice that his facial features got much sharper over the years, his demeanor became stoic, but you were quick to figure out that Giyuu hadn't grown jaded. Those he cared about, he would show his emotions to. 

"Giyuu, Iㅡ" 

Whatever you wanted to say got blown away as you suddenly found yourself in Giyuu's arms, your chin resting in his broad shoulder while his hands grasped at your clothes as if you were to disappear if he held you any lighter. "All this time, I thought you were dead."

Wrapping your arms around the tall Hashira, you easily melted into the heartfelt hug and felt relief as well as happiness prick at your eyes. You couldn't cry now. "I'm right here, Giyuu. I told you I'd never be far, remember?" Each syllable was a bit shakier than the previous one, but it made the feelings in your heart only grow firmer and deeper. 

Affectionately, you wrapped your pinky around Giyuu's and brought the two intertwined fingers up to eye level while resting your forehead on his own. You basked in the closeness with the one you'd been aching to meet, swam in his calm aura and felt your heart skip several beats as if it had fallen.

A lump found home in Giyuu's throat and effectively cut off any word he could dream of saying. He wasn't used to anyone getting this close to him, wasn't used to someone being affectionate and gentle with him. And he certainly wasn't used to seeing your serene face after so, so long. 

But he liked it. 

"I'd never forget," Giyuu quietly confessed and felt your breath fan over his cheeks, a delicate smile tugging at his lips as the promise from your childhood was renewed. It was the first time you had seen Giyuu smile and contrary to Shinobu's words, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on. 

Step by step, the sun began disappearing behind mountains and dipped the sky in a beautiful mix of orange, blue and pink. Soon, the stars would light up the sky and the moon would shine brightly. 

But with the sun setting, it also meant that demons were about to crawl out from whatever hole they hid themselves in. 

"Grab your sword, [Name]."

"Huh?"

Giyuu knew he was about to weave you into a life which could never be described as safe or domestic, but he never forgot that you had already decided to become a Demon Slayer when you two were children. He had seen the way you fought, backed him up and sensed a demon's blood lust. 

After all this time, you never truly forgot who you were. 

"It won't take long until the demons come out. Let's go." 

You nearly fell from your bed as you hastily reached for your sword and a bit of confusion lingered in your mind. Just what was Giyuu thinking? It was hard to tell with his face barely moving like it used to.

"I never officially passed the final selection," you sighed and looked at the sword in your grasp which was once broken, lying right in front of you. "I can't just go with you..can I?" 

Giyuu could feel doubt and insecurity seeping from you which definitely wasn't characteristic for you. When you fought Mizu, you were hell-bent on defeating her, despite the injuries you took. Was it guilt from back then making you doubt..?

"What happened 8 years ago is unfortunate, [Name]." Pitch black bangs threw a subtle shadow over Giyuu's eyes, but his voice was, dare you say, soothing. "But if you still want to fight, then I'll train you until the next final selection. Going on patrol with me is considered training."

It was okay for you to become a swordsman once again, right? Urokodaki didn't put you through hellish training and taught you everything he knew just for you to quit. With Giyuu's help, you could surely put an end to the existence of demons. Yes, you could do it! 

Confidently, you strapped your Nichirin blade to your waist, grabbed Giyuu's hand and pulled him through the hallways of the Butterfly Estate until you were finally outside. "Then what are we waiting for? Training is about to begin!" 

Faintly, Giyuu could hear Shinobu, Aoi and the three girls bid their goodbyes. His eyes fell down to your hand holding his tightly with the wristbands nearly touching one another. 

Perhaps, you were really bound by the wrist and though the red threads got heavily tangled along the way, it never got severed.

#tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

[otterskin]

Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’. 

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon. 

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it.  But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here  -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there. 

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

  - a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

#loki #trailer #details #meta #theories #theory #explanation #thor #tva #santa #devil #snorri sturluson whinging #christmas #fire #kaunaz #loki trailer

[bailey-reaper]

Hhhhh could you write a sequel to the hades fic???? it was SOO good!!!!!!

For Dear Life (Hades & Persephone AU)

Notes: (continued from here) Hello anon, I'm very happy to hear you enjoyed the Hades/Persephone fic! As I've said before, I love mythologies!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: abducted / hostage situation; power imbalance; intense emotions; Tia seriously screws around with Greek mythology. Like really REALLY screws around...; I'm sorry historians (again!) and mythologists

It was impossible to say whether or not the underworld met their expectations, because such things were normally so abstract and not a subject they really thought of; so, to be suddenly confronted by the literal domain of the dead, was utterly mind-boggling.

All they really remembered, as the chariot dove deep into the bowels of the earth was the feeling of the God of the Underworld holding them close and partly shielding them with his long cloak of darkness. It had surprised them to hear a heart beating in the deity's chest – surely that was something of an oxymoron?

With a firm shake of their head, they quietly wondered why they were dwelling upon that precise detail; it seemed like such a trivial thing...

They had been escorted to a garden within the deity's palace: the plants were unusual colours and shapes, no doubt thanks to the lack of sunlight they enjoyed, but it was a soothing space nonetheless and one that helped their racing thoughts to calm. As they looked around and overhead, it struck them how easy it was to forget this was a subterranean domain given how high the vaulted cavernous ceilings were.

"It is a pleasant garden, is it not?" a familiar, but terrifying, voice remarked as the tall and imposing Lord of the Dead entered the space.

Instantly the feeling of calm abandoned them and they stood with a small yelp of shock, "........" even if they'd wanted to speak, it was as if their voice was stuck in their throat.

"...." the God's expression was momentarily odd, they might have taken it as him being wounded or even disappointed, before he cleared his throat and sat on a bench fashioned from black marble, ".... I have no intentions to harm you. It may be difficult to believe that, but it is the truth... won't you come here?" he held out a hand, "I have shown you a great deal of discourtesy thus far in failing to properly introduce myself... My rashness can only be attributed to the passion you make me feel. It is... very out of my usual character."

And it was, for the Lord of the Underworld was known among his brethren as a level-headed judge who maintained utmost composure at all times. In fact, they often described him as being 'cold as a corpse' and brutal when it came to matters of logic or strategy. Impulsiveness was an unknown concept in his mind, until now...

"...I... am fine here," they replied, settling back down in grass that appeared to be more peacock blue than green.

"... Very well," once more he wore that wounded expression, but the God seemed willing to respect their reluctance, "I am the God of the Underworld, I believe your kind call me 'Hades'."

"... Hades," yes -- that was what humans called the stern God beneath the earth, but it sounded to them as if that might not be his real name, "Is... that not your name, then?"

A smile graced and lifted his features for a moment, brightening them in an unexpected way, "You are as astute as I thought... that is correct: my 'true' name is not Hades, though, mortals may call me whatever they wish."

"Then... what is your real name?" this topic of conversation made them curious: where had the names of the Gods actually come from? Were they brought to the minds of men in a dream? Or did the Gods themselves provide false identities, if so then why?

"Mmm," he looked momentarily pensive, "That is a secret, for now... a God's true name holds great power. To entrust it to another is akin to making a vow."

Their eyes widened, "Oh... I... I see."

"You will forgive me if I do not offer up something so personal at this delicate juncture, I am aware that your presence here is entirely of my doing and that you are... unhappy about it. I will not keep it a secret any longer than I must."

"...." it made sense that a God would not trust a relative stranger with something that seemed to hold a great deal of power. They wanted to ask more about it: what did it mean to know a God's true name? What kind of 'vow' did it create? But, it seemed more prudent to leave the topic for now, "... Please won't you let me go home?" they asked, eyes pleading, "I am... flattered to have caught the eye of a God, but I am a mere mortal. I cannot see what lasting intrigue I would have to a divine being such as yourself."

The Lord of the Underworld tilted his head, "Do you think me a shallow man who saw your beautiful face and thought only of that?" he shook his head, "I appreciate that we Gods have a less than glowing image among mortals, and that we have a reputation for treating humans in a superficial manner, but, that is not why I have brought you here. I do not see you as some pretty trophy to keep until I tire of you. Though you are beautiful, yes, it is not simply your appearance that has captivated me so."

"What...?" for some reason his impassioned words made their heart thud in their chest; did he really meant to say that he, a God, had fallen in love with them?

"You possess a quality of character and strength of spirit that has quite simply dazzled me... I have watched you from afar, seen how you have helped your fellows and maintained your grace and resolve even in the face of adversity. I was blinded by more than just your looks."

They blinked a few times, going over his words again and again in muted silence. How could they respond to such a heartfelt answer? It was clear that the God of the Underworld was sincere, if nothing else-- but, this was too much to take in.

"... I'm sure it must come as a surprise to hear a God's confession, but I cannot yearn from afar any longer... that is why I have brought you here. So that I might marry you and take you for my spouse."

"This... it's... this is far more than a surprise... it's shocking. I'm a simple human, surely there are other Gods and Goddesses that are better suited to wed one such as you?"

The God chuckled, "Gods and Humans aren't so different you know... We're possessed of the same diversity of thought and feelings, the same irrational sensibilities and yearnings... it is not as if for every God there is a comparable divine partner. In fact, I find a number of my divine brethren to be a noisy, irksome lot and ill-suited to my temperament. I gladly opted to rule the Underworld for it lessens the time I have to spend with them."

".... huh?" suddenly, they couldn't help but giggle, "... Are you... saying that you view the Gods as annoying relatives?"

"...." he pursed his lips, "Well... they are."

"Oh... I had no idea... So, you came here willingly?" he nodded, "That's not what our books say: apparently you drew lots with your brothers and received the underworld having drawn the shortest straw."

"...?" he looked genuinely bemused by that account, "... I've... never heard something so ridiculous in all my life... drew lots? By the Gods, no. The last thing I would want is to rule the Gods and endure the constant politics of Mount Olympus. Truth be told, I have no idea how my brother manages it..."

Once more they were laughing, for the God of the Underworld --Hades himself-- looked utterly aghast, "Oh! But what about the sea then? Wouldn't you have preferred your brother Poseidon's domain?"

"First, Poseidon is not my brother, he was a 'brother-in-arms' who assisted me and my brother... second, the sea is not much better than Olympus given its relative proximity. I find that my brethren are far slower to make the trek down into the bowels of the earth than any other place."

"I... had no idea the Lord of the Underworld was so anti-social," they mused, smiling to themself having almost entirely lost their nervousness, "But... I suppose it makes some sense, given that your domain is that of the dead. Have you... always been like this?"

"Like what?" he cocked his head.

"... Disagreeable to spending time with other Gods."

"I suppose so," he folded his arms, as if trying to recall some divine equivalent of childhood, "There are so many irksome and tedious Gods in the world, I discovered that during the wars with the Titans."

"Oh... so those wars actually happened then? Our human books are right about that much at least?" he nodded, "So... are the myths about your brother, Zeus, true?"

"What myths about Zeus?"

"That he's the most terrible womaniser who forces himself upon anything that catches his eye?"

"What?!" he stood up, clearly flustered, "Who dares to tarnish my brother's name so?! He's not some philandering hedonist! He's a man of the utmost integrity and happily married! Not to mention his wife would punish him severely were he to hold such callous disregard for the mortals..." suddenly, he stopped his ranting and looked apologetic as he sat down, "... Forgive me, that outburst was uncalled for..."

"I'm... surprised," they said, "Because our myths suggest that you and Zeus do not get along... but you seem incredibly fond of him... oh... and what did you mean that Poseidon is not your brother? Aren't all the Gods related?"

"Of course I'm fond of him," the God said, "He's my brother... and as for your other questions.... what kind of inbred bedlam do you think the Gods live in? We are not begat as generations of mortals, we all issued forth from the black waters of Chaos..."

"But how are you and Zeus related if all Gods are not born?"

"I... was a weak little God when I emerged from the primordial darkness, in fact it was questionable whether or not I would survive. Zeus took pity on me, and shared with me his ichor.... that sustained me and breathed life into me. We are brothers who share the same blood, literally."

"Oh... wow... I had no idea..."

"Why would you? It is not as if we Gods are at pains to correct the fantasies that mortals dream up to explain the world around them," he folded his arms, "I'm... glad you seem a little less nervous in my presence."

"Ah..." they blinked, "Now that you mention it, I do feel a lot calmer."

"That's good... I hope, with time, that perhaps you will... take a liking to me."

"...." funnily enough, seeing more of the God's character had endeared him to them, "I... can't make any promises," they said, while looking down and smiling.

He seemed to pick up on that coyness, "Hmmm... that's better than an outright no. Now, I should like to show you my domain. Do you feel up to a chariot ride? I won't burst up from the earth this time and grab you..."

"In that case, yes."

#barok van zieks #Barok x Ors #alt universe #request

[itwoodbeprefect]

Prompt you say? SGA: "Kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight", perhaps?

Ohhh, Lovers in a Dangerous Time lyrics!! :D I've used that exact quote before as a fic title, so my immediate association is now sappy h50 ace fic, haha.

But it is a VERY GOOD line that definitely works for sga, thank you, anon! Hope it's okay that I didn't include it literally but kind of... took it and ran. Very far. In a direction that maybe wasn’t on the map.

---

It’s a black box. Not a black box like a black box is a black box, like the flight recorders on planes that are actually bright orange and that John would know what to do with (i.e. hand it over to Rodney and wait), but a black box in the sense that it is a box, that is black, and that some genius took from one of the most remote wings of Atlantis and that has now attached itself to the floor in a corner of the science lab and is... pulsating. And perhaps also-

“Is it growing?” Teyla asks.

Rodney whips his head up so fast that John, who’s been watching the readings he’s taking over his shoulder (in the vain hope of it suddenly becoming A) something he can shoot at or B) a math problem), almost gets his nose bashed in. “I think it is.” Rodney does not sound as calm about this as Teyla did. “And I’m seeing a weird energy build-up.”

John weaves past him, unobtrusively putting himself between Rodney and the maybe-growing alien object. It’s currently about the size of a medium dog. He eyes the floor around it. “If we really need to get it out of here, can we-”

“Yeah,” Rodney says, hesitantly reading John’s mind about taking a piece of the building with them if all else fails. “But I wouldn’t recommend blowing it up, so that’s going to take a lot of work.” He stomps his foot to needlessly illustrate the solidity of the building. “The ancients designed their stuff to last.”

“It looks like an Earth television box,” Ronon offers, apropos of nothing. He’s frowning. It occurs to John that this might be the first time Ronon has been in the labs, ever, but they needed him to make absolutely sure that no human being could move the box even an inch, and to in so doing confirm that this was a thing to potentially be very worried about.

“A tv isn’t smooth and black all over,” Rodney says. “Or this perfectly square.”

John shrugs. “It could be.” He says it not really because he thinks it's an useful point to make (this is not an Earth tv any more than it is an Earth flight recorder, because then Ronon would never have been called in), but for the disgruntled look Rodney throws his way because of it.

“Should we get a hammer and chisel?” Teyla asks, neatly pulling them back on topic by their conversational ears.

John’s arms feel sore at just the thought of chiselling through Atlantis. “A drill might be-”

Ronon steps forward and gives the box a good kick.

A hush falls over the four of them as they wait. There is an ominously loud creak, then a hiss that has Rodney blanching even as he keeps typing like mad, and suddenly there’s a thin, jagged crack visible. It’s a white line splitting the previously solid black, running right around a corner, and the vague pulsing has stopped but the box still seems more alive somehow than most regular objects. Whatever is inside is bright, bright like blinding, bright like forgetting your sunglasses on a cloudless day in snowy pure white Antarctica bright. Flashbang, John thinks with a spike of nerves, but as he’s still thinking it there’s movement. He doesn’t even have time to draw his gun - it’s just pop, and a bright little circle pops out of the crack in the black box.

It’s a little more yellowish than the light inside seemed, and far easier on the eyes. It floats, hovering in the air right above the box for a second or two before gently, lazily drifting higher, higher until it bumps into the ceiling of the science lab and bounces back a little and then just hangs there, impossible, suspended in the air, and-

“It’s a sun,” John says, finishing his own thought for once. And it is - a yellowish ball of light about the size of a tennis ball, but with blunt spikes of darker yellow light attached, exactly the way a kid would draw a sun with crayons, just minus the little happy face in the middle.

And then it’s pop and when John looks down he sees another, identical little sun has just escaped the box, and while he’s still looking it’s pop, pop, poppoppoppop-

It gets pretty noisy for a moment, but as all of the little suns drift up to join the first one near the ceiling, they make a very pretty sight. “The Festival of Lights,” Teyla says. She sounds awed, but also like she understands now, so John fully relaxes. “We celebrated it on Athos on the darkest day of every year. This is the most beautiful decoration I’ve ever seen.”

For every pop Rodney counters with at least five taps to his tablet, but now his fingers are slowing down. “It seems harmless,” he says, and he sounds almost dismayed. “Like very scientifically advanced fireworks, with less danger of losing a finger. How did you know?”

All eyes turn to Ronon. Ronon shrugs. “Sometimes you have to bang on the tv to make it work. Sheppard taught me that.”

“Well,” John says, as an excuse to release the breath that’s been caught in his throat. It’s gone silent. The previously lit crack in the box is dark now, and the box is just a weird broken black box, clearly having done what it was supposed to do. When he cautiously nudges it with his foot it moves with the ease of empty carton. “Yeah. Well done, buddy. You solved a science problem before McKay.”

“No!” Rodney protests, easily offended. “He very much did not.” He waves his tablet at the ceiling in a borderline threatening gesture, and a few of the suns bob in response, apparently sensitive to disturbances of the air. Light as a feather, as well as the sun. “What he solved is the Ancient equivalent of a piñata.”

John pats Rodney’s back. “Just be glad Ronon used the right definition of bang. This could have ended very differently.”

“What exactly did you teach him when we were on Earth?”

John rolls his eyes, elects not to answer that, and instead goes looking for a broom to see if he can make the horde of little suns bounce along the ceiling a little more to make Teyla smile.

#this is NOT ALL THAT SHORT #just did a wordcount and it's like. a full 1k OOPS #i'm working on the other prompts!! thank you all!! it's just going to take a little while if i keep abandoning the drabble idea #which as far as i'm concerned is a GOOD thing by the way!!! this was FUN and that was exactly what i was looking for 💖 #sga #my fic #* #stargate atlantis

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

[captainenjolras]

Prompt:

Chabouillet getting really protective of Javert when he and Valjean started dating. Like maybe interrogating Valjean and such

Also love your fics they're so darn cute

Aww, thank you! I’ve been waiting to write something involving Javert and Chabouillet’s relationship!

Valjean meeting Chabouillet would either go down great or like the dinner scene from Shrek 2

⚠️TW: mentions of abuse, drunkness and suic*de⚠️

Fight Fire With Fire

It’s not that he wasn’t happy for him, he was just…less than thrilled.

Chabouillet had known Javert for years; since the boy was fifteen. He had found him running in the streets. Since that day, he’d taken him under his wing; he was the one who had given him shelter from a less than terrible home life, the one who had suggested making him a guard at the age of 17, the one who always looked out for him no matter where he was stationed.

He was also the one who had to listen to the boy’s rants about Madeline.

Never had he seen Javert so…distracted. So ditzy. Usually, he was a stern and hard working man; but upon being in Madeline’s presence, he was an absolute dork. He was the one who watched as the young Inspector fumbled over files hours after the interactions; and after the truth was revealed about the Mayor, he was the one who allowed a very drunk, upset and tearful Javert sleep in his spare room.

Maybe that’s why he was so tense about this situation; the whole Madeline incident had felt like a punch to the gut for Javert. Sure, Chabouillet was disappointed as well, but what made him more conflicted was the younger’s emotional distress over the whole thing.

But the past was in the past, and all that mattered was the present. Right?

“Le patron!”

“Javert, mon garçon!”

The Inspector came bounding at Chabouillet, wrapping him in a tight hug. Well! This was new! Once they broke apart, the Chief laid his eyes upon the other man. Valjean.

The man had a shy smile on his face as the oldest of the three surveyed him. He was quite tall, very muscular, had a head of curly hair and neat facial hair, was dressed quite well…

“Hello, Monsieur Chabouillet,” greeted Valjean, hand extended as if to shake the oldest’s own. Chabouillet simply nodded instead.

“Monsieur Valjean.”

The eye contact they held was less than comfortable for both parties, although Javert didn’t seem to notice. He stood in between them both, teeth bared in a wide smile. The height and size difference of the couple was as if a cat had just dragged home a bear.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence for the older two, Chabouillet eventually spoke up.

“Well, come inside!”

Valjean followed gingerly behind Javert, who entered the house as if it was his own. Jean remembered that in a way, it was. The man had practically adopted the Inspector. Did that mean this was their equivalent to “meeting the parents?”

That was exactly what this was going to be, wasn’t it?

“Make yourselves at home,” spoke Chabouillet, acknowledging the coat rack by the door.

——————————————————————————

The entire night, Chabouillet studied Javert and Valjean’s interactions. The two acted like lovesick teenagers, although he did notice Valjean eyeing him mistrustfully. He returned the favor. At one point, Jean had wrapped his arm around Javert’s waist. That was Chabouillet’s breaking point.

“Javert,” he interrupted, “I’m very sorry to ask you this right now, but there’s a case file upstairs that I forgot to give to you yesterday! Would you mind just going over it?”

For once, Javert seemed annoyed at having to work. What on earth? However, he agreed and went up to the study room. Once he was a good distance away, Chabouillet turned to Valjean. He looked him up and down, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Nice to finally me-“

“Talk to me, Jean.”

Chabouillet beckoned Valjean to follow him to the dining room. Once they were seated, he spoke again.

“What are your intentions?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are your…intentions…with Javert?”

Oh, he could tell so much jokes right now.

He chose not to.

“If I have the correct understanding, then my intentions are to make him happy.”

Once again, Chabouillet stared deep into his soul. Well, this was terrifying.

“What do you do for a living, Jean?”

“W-well my good friend owns a shop that I co-own.”

“…How often do you see Javert?”

“We live together, Monsieur.”

“Well what do you two do on your spare time?”

“All sorts of things; we go on walks, read together, garden, watch TV- stuff we did before we were together! We just…do it together now.”

“And what about dates?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Where do you take him on dates?”

“I mean, usually we prefer to stay home; but otherwise we go out for dinner or stargazing- we actually went to this planetarium last week with a huge star dome-“

“Do you listen to him?”

“…I’m not sure I quite understand that-“

“Do you listen to him; does he talk to you? About work? Problems? Feelings?”

“Oh! Yes, actually!”

“Yes to what?”

“Er, all of the above?”

Valjean laughed nervously, face redder than the table cloth he tapped at anxiously.

“…Back to my original question,” grumbled Chabouillet, sitting up straighter than he already was, “what are your intentions with Javert?”

“I-I thought I answered that-“

“Not in the way I wanted you to. What are your plans for the future involving your…relationship; is this some sort of fling? Just casual dating? Serious? What, what is it?”

“I mean, I’d say it’s pretty serious.”

“You’d say it’s pretty serious…do you plan on marrying him?”

At that, Valjean began to choke on nothing. His eyes went wide and jaw dropped.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Do you plan on marrying him, boy.”

“…I don’t know how you want me to answer that-“

“The way you would if anyone else asked!”

“Yes!”

The moment he said those words, Jean slammed his hand over his mouth. Both men peaked out of the room, hoping that Javert wasn’t anywhere near. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

“Yes,” whispered Jean, eyes refusing to meet the Chiefs, “I…I do plan on marrying him…if he wants to, that is.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You’ve never spoken about marriage?!”

“No, no we have- it’s just- we’ll I haven’t quite asked him yet. You know…asked him.”

Oh? Oh. Oooh, ok. He understood now.

Well now he had more of a right to threaten him over screwing this up.

“…I don’t know you, Jean. How am I supposed to know that you’re the right match for Javert?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean- I just met the real you, not Madeline. Do you have any clue how much that whole stunt upset Javert? He loved you. Not just- not admiration love, he loved you; and then you go and pull that- god, I was so mad! If I could’ve gone out and found you myself I would have- and don’t think I won’t do the same now if you ever hurt him!”

“I don’t know how much clearer I could have made it,” started the younger, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, “but I don’t plan on hurting him or letting anyone hurt else hurt him. I…understand you’re skeptic of me, but please…he means the world to me.”

“And how do I know you’re not lying to me? Was it you that saved him from his abusive household? Was it you who took him in, put a roof over his head and clothes on his back? Was it me or you who made him hysterical sob after lying about who they really were?”

“Was it you or me who risked their freedom to make sure he was safe,” growled Valjean, standing now. “Is it your shoulder or my shoulder that he cries into every time he’s had enough? Was it you that sobbed for days because maybe, just maybe, you loved him back to; but you could never tell him! Was it you or me that pulled him out of the damn Seine in the middle of the fucking night-“

“Enough!”

Chabouillet slammed his palm to the table. Valjean, who had just been fuming, was now sitting down again, fear in his eyes.

“Enough, please…I can’t- don’t bring that up.”

The older of the two quietly sunk back down to his seat, mind racing. Perhaps they both went to far.

“…How does he like his coffee?”

Oh…that’s not what Valjean was expecting.

“…With so much sugar it’s a little scary.”

At that, both of them couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Once it died down, Chabouillet looked over at him.

“When he found out you were in the city, he wasn’t very happy. I’ll admit, I thought he was overreacting a bit. Then…after the protests…I don’t know, something seemed to change. When I heard it was you that saved him, I nearly didn’t believe it.”

A tear had fallen down his cheek, but the Chief didn’t seem to care.

“…Thank you,” he started again, “for saving him. He’s…like a son to me.”

“…I can tell from the way you care about him…Please, Monsieur, I apologize if my behavior was a bit rash; my only intentions with Javert are to make him happy. I hope you’d let me.”

Chabouillet went to open his mouth, but just as he did, Javert strutted into the room.

“One of your leads has been dead for years, Le patron. Are you sure she was the person in suspect?”

He really had no clue of the entire conversation that just went down.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the night went smoothly; the three of them swapped stories and debates over dinner. Around 9:00, Javert suggested they should head home.

As they were leaving, Chabouillet pulled Valjean aside.

“Monsieur,” started the younger, “I’d like to thank you-“

“It’s- it’s quite alright…You have my permission. And…my blessing.”

It took a moment for Jean to register what he was saying, but once it did, he wrapped the man in a tight embrace.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you- I shouldn’t be hugging you, should I?”

He pulled away, the same anxious smile on his face that was there moments ago.

“It’s…alright. Maybe not- I’d prefer to see how things play out in the future.”

“Understandable.”

“Valjean?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for making him happy…truly happy.”

“…Thank you for making him the man he is today.”

For once, they both shared a less than awkward smile.

“Treat him well.”

“I will.”

Valjean turned to leave, only for Chabouillet to turn him around once again.

“Just know, that if you ever, and I mean EVER, hurt him, I won’t hesitate to find you and make your life a living nightmare.”

“…There’s the Chabouillet I know. Don’t worry, that won’t be necessary.”

“It’s a warning.”

“That won’t need to be enforced.”

“Valjean-“

“I know, I know; you’re just making sure I understand. I do, believe me. I have absolutely no plan on hurting him, or letting anything hurt him for that matter.”

“…Good man. Go, he’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Probably- thank you for dinner, Monsieur.”

“Anytime. Farewell, Valjean.”

“Farewell, Monsieur.”

Chabouillet watched as Jean made his way to the car, kissing Javert on the cheek once he was inside. He made sure they drove off safely before closing the door and turning in for the night.

——————————————————————————

It was good to know that the Chief didn’t think him unfit for Javert, although that was the last thought he had at the moment. Looking down, Valjean couldn’t help but smile at the sleeping man he held in his arms. Javert wore one of Jean’s own t-shirts, and had his cheek smudged against the older’s chest. God, he was beautiful.

Jean glanced over at the ring he held in the hand that wasn’t cradling Javert’s back. Soon, he hoped.

Soon.

#hope you enjoyed! #this was such a cute prompt- #with a bit of a clif hanger ;) #valvert #les mis #les miserables #jean valjean #valjean #inspector javert #Javert #Ari writes #javert x valjean #valjean x javert #valvert fic #Ari writes valvert #Chabouillet #Javert and Chabouillet being father and son #thanks you for sending in this prompt! I had fun writing it! #long post #fic