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verdantglow · 17 days

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Okay so @plumadot’s posting about her D&D Traffic AU has made me remember how much I love my Dungeons & Traffic AU & I Must Talk About It Now.

Basically all the characters are in a modern setting, playing a rotating cast D&D game DMed by The Watchers. (I never really decided how that works. Plan was for everything in out of game space be completely mundane except for the floating purple eye behind the DM screen lol.)

But yeah! So I picked classes & heritages that the characters would pick themselves based on play styles & preferences. &, uh, here they are!

Bdubs: Firbolg, Light Domain Cleric of Helios

Of course he’s a light cleric. Of course his god is literally the god of the Sun. This man does not fuck with the night & darkness At All. (Also he wanted to be tall lol.)

BigB: (???), (???)

Okay, gonna be honest, BigB is the last one I need to make decisions for ‘cause I feel I have too many knowledge gaps about him to figure this out. Was thinking Paladin maybe??? But I will totes take input, please help me here. Only restrictions: I’d prefer if he doesn’t double up on heritage or subclass with anyone.

Cleo: Reborn, Circle of Wildfire Druid

Cleo’s gotta be a zombie, so Reborn is perfect. & who can deny Cleo the opportunity to have a skill set based entirely around setting shit on fire?

Etho: Shadar-Kai, Way of the Shadow Monk

He’s a ninja lol. Also in this AU I was thinking he & Gem would be siblings, so having him play an emotionally flat dark elf played nicely with what Gem goes with. Which…

Gem: Eladrin, Eldritch Knight Fighter

Gem had to be a fighter, that girl is a fighter through & through, but she’s definitely not playing a boring character. Eldritch Knight adds some magical flavour that goes well with her being an Eladrin. & she had to be an elf of some kind; I think she’d like the versatility & expressiveness of Eladrin.

Grian: Changeling, Pact of the Tome Warlock of the Archfey

Okay, I know this is probs controversial but hear me out. 1) Grian being a Warlock I think is just very in character. 2) Pact of the Tome lets him cast catrips from other classes & you unknowingly he’d get a kick outta that mechanic. 3) His patron is a homebrewed version of The Traveler, half way between 5e canon & Critical Role canon. Trickster vibes are real. 4) This dude has had so many skins. Changeling energy. (Also I just love changelings & Grian made the most sense to me.)

Impulse: Hill Dwarf, Forge Domain Cleric of Tharmekhûl

Another controversial one, but I’m not a fan of demon/tiefling/horned Impulse. & he legit has been a dwarf before. Hill dwarf because they get a Wisdom buff & that makes sense for Impulse. Cleric of Tharmekhûl because forge/light vibes & also he’s the god of smiths & that feels… like something Impulse would choose. (Impulse’s character is also min-max’d to hell. This man is going to win at D&D.)

Jimmy: Human, Oath of Glory Paladin of Tyr

Jimmy got overwhelmed by all the heritages & just went human for simplicity. He takes regular human rather than variant because he doesn’t want to learn all the feats & getting +1 to all stats is pretty good, right? Oath of Glory Paladin of Tyr because he really, really plays into being Lawful Good, & being The Law of the party.

Joel: Half-orc, Path of the Berserker Barbarian

Half-orc for being the closest I could get to an ogre. Path of the Berserker because he’s all about The Rage.

Lizzie: High Elf, School of Enchantment Wizard

Idk Lizzie just has big Wizard vibes to me, but like. Not the best wizard. Like she’s powerful, but rolls shit. She couldn’t get anyone to sleep in the Secret Life campaign because her DC is kinda low & everyone kept making their saves. (Except Joel. He failed his save on purpose. <3) High Elf for Queen Lizzie.

Martyn: Tiefling, Swashbuckler Fighter

Another natural fighter choice imo, but Swashbuckler for The Performance. Tiefling because he’s a bit impish & also so he can have Thaumaturgy to constantly scare everyone with monster/mob noises.

Mumbo: Rock Gnome, School of Evocation Wizard

I need to Mumbo to be a glass canon. School of Evocation Wizard does that so well. He can blow shit up so good, but he takes one hit & he’s out. Rock gnome because he just wanted to be a little guy & so he can be a Tinker.

Pearl: Wood Elf, Beastmaster Ranger

Beastmaster Ranger so she can have Tilly as an animal companion. Also more combat than magic focused, ‘cause that feels right? Elf because that’s her vibe, wood elf because it made sense for her build.

Ren: Werewolf Shifter (Doglike), Bannerette Fighter

Ren really wanted to be a fighter, but he put all his points in charisma RIP. So yeah, he’s the fighter class that does the least actual fighting lol. Doglike werewolf because of course.

Scar: Half-elf, Wild Magic Sorcerer/School of Eloquence Bard multiclass

His first few levels were in sorcerer, to reflect his absolutely bonkers all or nothing luck. School of Eloquence because he’s the type to talk his way out of most any situation he can. Also: Scar is 100% a charisma caster. (He still uses a longbow, don’t worry; he gets proficiency with it from being a half-elf.)

Scott: Fairy, Lunar Sorceror

I have changed my mind the most about Scott. Landed on Fairy, because the Vibes. Sorcerer because I felt he’d have innate magic, Lunar because it gives him access to a wide variety of spells that make sense for him. (Like Shield. He uses Shield all the time. Can’t hit this man, no sir.)

Skizz: Protector Aassimar, Path of the Ancestral Guardians Barbarian

He attac, he protec. & most importantly, he place high value on bonds between folks. So giving him Ancestral Guardians just… yeah.

Tango: Fire Genasi, Battlesmith Artificer

I don’t think I need to explain this much. His Steel Defender is an Iron Golem.

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ejunkiet · 2 years

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first love, last love

this came from a conversation with the incredible @glassbearclock about vindie and fl in the imperium. mild spoilers for ‘what you deserve’!

redacted asmr: vindemiator/freelancer, imp!verse, rated mature 18+

“They’re starving you.”

He releases a dismissive snort. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Their jaw hardens, and he can feel it then, that stubborn edge of determination, that fire that he’s grown to love from them. "They’ve taken so much from us. They don't get this, too."

READ FULL VERSION ON AO3

first love, last love

It's late. They're tired - they're always tired lately, the toll of the last six months leaving them with an exhaustion that’s bone-deep; a strain he can feel all the way down to his core.

It's the classes. Not just the brutal curriculum the academy keeps, but the additional lessons they've been getting from the Haven's freelancer coordinator, under the guise of a faculty internship.

Healing is a delicate art, and not one that the academy values, despite its necessity. From what he's been told, the 'lessons' are barely more than skin deep, useful for superficial wounds and little else.

It's another shackle, another tool for controlling an empowered population that should be better than this; that had the strength to overthrow their oppressors, but chose not to.

…but not all of them. Not his freelancer. And not their tutor, a brilliant, gentle mind fostered under Avior’s wing.

But still, it takes a toll. One he knows all too well. He's tired, too.

And hungry.

It has been almost two weeks since he last fed. Since his arrival at the Haven, he's been assigned a visitor, someone he's grown to know over the last few months. But two weeks ago, their sessions had been cancelled at the last minute. Permanently.

It's not Avior's fault. He was doing his best to source an alternative, but he'd already had more than enough on his plate before this. And besides, Vindemiator has some ideas about who may be behind the last minute changes. He hasn't been here long, but he already has a list of adversaries, empowered humans who would like nothing more than to see him harmed.

There are one or two names at the top of that list.

The hunger leaves him weak, although he tries not to show it. They only get such small windows of time together, and he wouldn't waste it - wouldn't ruin it with the sour taste of their worry, further staining the already muted glow of their emotions.

(Sometimes, in brief moments, he gets glimpses of their true colours - rosy pinks and brilliant gold, small sunbursts amidst the rain. Sometimes, he feels it too.)

"Vin?"

Their voice is soft and careful, and when he blinks back into the moment, he finds that they're closer than he remembers them being. Close enough that he forgets himself for a moment and lets the facade slip, lets some of his weariness slip through as he leans into their touch.

"Are you okay?"

He forges a smile. "As well as any of us can be. You're tired too, freelancer. Healing classes have been going well?"

They don't take the bait, and they don't look away.

"Vin." It's something about the way they say his name like that, something that's so simply and uniquely them that undermines his defences, sinking into the heart of him.

He can't bring himself to lie to them.

"I'm weaker than usual. But I’ll be fine. It will pass."

Their brow pinches, a dark thread of worry seeping through their aura like a stain. "Weaker? But I thought… Avior said that the d(a)emons here had an arrangement."

"My… arrangement, as you put it, fell through."

"When?"

"Two weeks ago."

Their eyes widen, impossibly dark in the shadows of his quarters. He's grown used to the darkness, preferring it to the harsh brightness of the fluorescents, but he wishes now that he had the light to see them now. Watch the full spectrum of emotion that crosses their features, before they close it off behind a mask of neutrality.

"...you should have told me."

But even with as good as they've gotten at hiding their emotions, there's no changing the fact that he’s a demon.

There's a thread of guilt in their emotions now, almost superseded by the anger. But not at him, he realises - but themself.

And just, no.

"Freelancer-"

They're moving again, drawing back as his heart clenches, and he wants to reach out for them, except he won't. Not if they’re pulling back from him like this - not if his touch is unwanted. He bites down on his tongue, his teeth longer and sharper than usual - another side effect of his increasing weakness, the failure of the glamour - and he can do nothing except watch as they pull away completely.

Except - they don't leave.

They’re gripping the hem of their shirt, pulling the worn fabric up and off until their chest is bare, and it’s then that the realisation hits him, dousing like a flood of ice cold water.

He closes the distance between them before their shirt drops to the floor, collecting their wrists, his touch carefully neutral.

“Freelancer, no.”

“I can help. Let me help.”

“No.” Their eyes are wide again, glittering like obsidian in the darkness. “Not like this. Not because of some - need.”

Their eyes flicker, the anger within them dimming, replaced by something with the sharp edge of hurt, before it’s gone.

“They’re starving you.”

He releases a dismissive snort. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

He lets them twist their wrists out of his grip, their hands moving to hover over his neck, his shoulders. They still won’t make contact, not without him initiating, and it’s a gesture he appreciates, more than they know.

It’s a cruel joke, his means of existence on this plane. The lack of agency, of choice.

He won’t take that from them.

As if they’re reading his thoughts, they drop their hands, leaning in close. "If this is about my own comfort-"

"It's because you shouldn't have to."

"But what if I want to?"

His throat closes up. He can’t speak. Can’t find the air to speak it. They close their eyes, a little furrow in their brow forming, before-

Please. Let me help you.

read the rest on ao3 (see the full tags there)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #ej writes redacted #imperium verse #redacted gavin #redacted vindemiator #vindemiator/freelancer #sad and horney is my wheelhouse #these two okay #tragic starcrossed lovers #canon in every verse #writing #I should have waited for the weekend but I am IMPATIENT

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aziraphales-library · 2 years

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Lost Fic #113

1. Heyo! I found this fic forever ago where Gabriel loses his memories and is a tailor. Aziraphale and Crowley take care of him, and Gabriel becomes a better person. - anon

2. Hey all, I’m trying to find a fic that I believe I found here! I’ve hunted the whump aziraphale tags and hurt comfort tags without luck. I remember a lot of details though: aziraphale disappears, and Crowley is at the shop when he appears again, severely wounded both physically and essence wise, on the sigil. He’s basically comatose for a lot of the fic but also intensely feral when he is conscious, like he is still looking for danger when he senses angels nearby. I know there there are angel OCs that Crowley speaks to, and I know Crowley sings to aziraphales essence to help it heal. Like I remember a lot of it but can’t find it! Can I get some help? - @queenburd

3. Hi there, it's me again. ;) This time, I'm looking for a fic I read a while back, where Crowley dresses Aziraphale up to make him feel pretty. There's a gold necklace with fine gold chains that hang down over the shoulders, and at the end of it all, Crowley wraps him in wisps of silk. Any ideas? 'Cause I'm at a total loss. (I also can't remember what site it was on.) Thanks! - @xendria

4. I can't find a fic (maybe I'm bad at it or it's deleted). It was a night in C's flat. C found out (or already knew) that A lied about not knowing where Adam was and was very hurt and angry and refused to believe that A loves him. C went to his bedroom and A tried to get through to him. And C tried to catch him out with "if you love me have sex with me" and didn't exepct for A to agree and was to stubborn to stop. Very unhappy sex follows and C breaks in the middle of it and they talk. - anon

5. Hi hi! I need a bit of help finding a certain fic. I remember Aziraphale saving Crowley from hell, or at least an imp, and ends up sticking his arm in hellfire to do so. Crowley has to take care of him because he's on the verge of oblivion or something along that nature. Thank you :3 - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

#good omens #lost fic #ineffable husbands #mod d

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i-am-infinite · 3 years

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Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here.

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15.

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine.

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga.

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet.

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt.

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood.

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place.

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good.

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side.

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too.

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again.

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake.

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer.

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now.

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.”

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.”

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door.

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on.

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth.

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath.

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch.

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!”

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off.

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers.

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point.

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light.

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right.

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him.

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it.

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up.

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body.

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance.

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap.

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak.

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response.

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off.

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself.

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staranon95 · 3 years

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DinCobb Week Day 2: Hurt/Comfort (SFW)

here’s my take on @dincobbweek day 2′s prompt Hurt/Comfort

in which Din gets severely injured after the fight with Gideon and is taken to Tatooine to recover

AO3 Link

Tend to Me

“Mando?”

Din blinked at where the Jedi had been just a moment earlier, carrying Grogu away as it should be.

“Mando.”

He blinked again and turned to look at the others. Cara was speaking to him, turned towards him. And he could see Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls and Fennec Shand and . . .

There was something wet trickling down his side that he was aware of all for handful of seconds before the floor was coming up to greet him.

His head felt light, but there was a distant pounding, and he didn’t feel all that here in the present moment.

He blinked and saw Cara above him. He blinked again and thought he heard the stern voice of Bo-Katan against Gideon’s steady timbre.

Someone was pulling at his cuirass, and he tried to sit up against it. They had already seen his face. They all had. The Nite Owls. Cara. Fennec.

Gideon.

He couldn’t let more of that be taken from him.

“Easy, vod.”

The sound of Mando’a settled him, and he lay back down when he saw a familiar helmet above him, partially blocking out a fluorescent light above him, giving the person an almost halo like appearance.

“Vanth,” he muttered.

“No, Din,” a gravelly voice said. “It’s not.”

Still, his eyes rolled back and he knew nothing more until later.

Whenever later would be.

He opened his eyes and found himself on his back. There was something around his torso, but his skin felt cool. Too cool. He looked and found himself bare to the waste. There was thick gauze and bandages wrapped around his torso, and at some point he’d been given an intravenous. The area around him seemed familiar.

“You’re on the Slave.” Fennec appeared above him.

Din parted his lips. She could still see him, and he felt panicked at the idea of it. “What’s—”

“Fett plans on taking you to Tatooine,” she said in that same matter-of-fact tone she always had. “You were injured in the fight. Either with Gideon or with the darktroopers, but the damage is extensive.”

Din blinked. “Why not heal me here?”

“We didn’t think you’d want to be here. Not with Bo-Katan breathing down your neck.”

The sound of heavy footsteps came upon them, and Din looked up to see Fett himself, still armour, unlike Din.

“Are we clear?” Fennec asked.

“Marshal Dune plans on watching Gideon until the New Republic arrives. And Bo-Katan has stepped back. For now.” He titled his head in Din’s direction. “She’ll want to know when you’re back on your feet, but I told her you don’t do well with droids, so healing will be a slow process.”

Din looked back up at the ceiling above him. “I’m a disgrace.”

“No, you’re not. Well. Tatooine’s not going to wait for us forever.”

As much as Din knew of Boba already, he knew even less of the man’s current aspirations. Apparently, that included overthrowing the last remnants of the Hutt presence on the planet and installing a new crime syndicate. His own.

Fortunately, for Din, he was asleep and in too much pain to worry about how this was all going to go down, and by the time he was awake, he was being lifted into a bed, and that movement alone stole the breath from his lungs. There was a sharp current of pain lancing up the right side of his rib cage and into his right shoulder. It pricked at his hip and down, and he gritted his teeth, breathing out harshly through his nose as he was settled.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He heard Fett around him, somewhere to his right. “It wasn’t going to be an easy move. Here. Got a hypospray for that.” Din tilted his neck back enough to let Fett inject him. He could feel the rush of the hypospray along the side of his neck and slowly—slowly—he felt it go to work in the worst parts of his body until he could finally relax against the bed.

Din closed his eyes and breathed out deeply before he looked to Boba. “Bringing me here was your idea?”

“Well.” Boba had his helmet off now, but the rest of his armour was still in place. He looked to the side and found a sturdy chair against the wall that he dragged up to the side of the bed. “I can’t imagine it would’ve been nice to patch up you with whatever stores of bacta they had on that ship and send you right back out there.”

“Would’ve been better.”

“To what? Handle the Princess and her self-righteous cause? Finish off Gideon and the rest of those Imps? Din, you’ve been going at it for weeks now. And I’m speaking from experience here, but when you’re down, stay down. Don’t try to get back up if it’s only going to make things worse.”

Din frowned. “The darksaber—”

“It’s here.”

“No, not that. She’ll want to discuss with me what that means. You should’ve—”

“I wasn’t going to leave you with her. Din, do you even remember what happened during the fight with Gideon? Stars, any of it?”

If Din were to be truthful, he would say he didn’t remember most of it. Certainly not now. He remembers being physical assaulted by one of the darktroopers. How it clutched his head and smashed against the metal panels of the ship over and over again. His helmet being the only thing protecting him from being seriously injured.

But he had been injured, hadn’t he? Otherwise, why would he be here?

But then later, after he had finally dispatched the darktrooper, Gideon emerged with the darksaber. He remembered parts of the fight between the beskar spear and the saber itself. Gideon had been an accomplished fighter with it and then—

“I’m not . . . sure.”

“Well,” Boba said. “Best we could figure, one of the darktroopers hurt you pretty bad. Lacerations on your neck from when one of ‘em grabbed you. At some point you were struck or you collided with something and fractured your arm up here.” He tapped a point high up on his own arm, up near the shoulder. “You’re shoulder blade didn’t fare much better. And then when you faced down with Gideon.” He chuckled. “What I would’ve given to see that fight. But he must’ve swiped you. Gotten the upper hand because he scored you along here.” He marked a long cut along his rib cage, right where the padding of his armour would’ve ended, leaving him open to Gideon’s attack. “It’s long, but not terribly deep. You got lucky.”

“Yeah, because this is what’s lucky. Lucky I didn’t get blown up in my ship. Lucky I lost the kid. Lucky I got to see him get taken by the Jedi—”

“Easy, vod.”

Din breathed in deeply.

“Feel better?”

“No.”

“Figured as much. I’ll be looking into getting you doctor. Someone local. Medical supplies of high grade are rare on this planet so it’ll be a slow recovery, but I think you could use the time off. And I doubt you want a medical droid.”

“Preferably not.”

“Right. Slow recovery it is.” Boba then stood and reached down to pat his good shoulder. “Rest up. Fennec and I will be in and out, but for now, sleep. You need it.”

He turned then and left, leaving Din to his quiet contemplation.

Even after the hypospray, he could still feel the throbbing effects of pain as it lanced up and down his side with each beat of his heart.

It was only luck that he did fall asleep from the sheer exhaustion coursing through his body.

He was left with a broken arm, a broken body, and a broken Creed. He wasn’t sure how much Boba knew of Mandalorian customs—especially Din’s customs which weren’t universal. He was still coming to terms with that.

But as it was, Din had no idea to the current state of his tribe. He knew many of them had been slain with the fallout of their exposure in the city of Nevarro. The survivors had been scattered. Or they could all be dead and Din would be the last of the Watch.

The only one who cared about a broken Creed was him, and even now he didn’t know what that meant.

What did it mean to be broken?

He shared none of these thoughts with Boba and Fennec whenever they came to visit, neither did he say anything to Boba’s hired doctor when they came to check him over and change his dressings.

He was silent through it all and needed to be prodded to get out of bed so he wouldn’t develop bed sores. He was a ghost of his former self and he could see it in Boba and Fennec’s eyes. They didn’t know what to do with him, so he guessed that’s why they contacted him.

There was a knock on the door to his room.

“Come in.” Din pushed himself to sit up against the bed with some effort and felt something pull in his side and he set his free hand upon it to try and soothe the throbbing. Then he saw Cobb Vanth enter the room.

His immediate instinct was to try and pull his helmet on, maintain some dignity, but he caught sought of his beskar’gam—helmet and all—across the room.

Besides, Fett’s doctor had already seen him without his armour. Why should he get so worried that Cobb was here?

“Fennec told me where to come find you,” the Marshal said, coming to sit slowly in the chair next to Din’s bed. “Gotta admit, this place is a whole lot bigger on the inside.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Din said, keeping his gaze to the bedspread despite how much he wanted to see Cobb’s face with unfiltered eyes for the first time. But he couldn’t get himself to do it. He didn’t think he deserved it. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, two reasons, I s’pose.” Cobb’s drawl felt like a balm. “First being business related. With Fett bein’ the new crime lord n’ all I suppose it’s only good that we negotiate a bit. See what he can offer Mos Pelgo and what he’s askin’ for in return. Pretty agreeable guy, I have to admit. Second reason . . . they asked me to see you.”

Din slowly looked over at Cobb. He looked the same as before, much more narrow now that he didn’t have Boba’s armour to cover his frame. But he looked good. He was wearing dark green today and not his usual red, but the colour still looked good on him.

And then up to his face. The cut of his beard. It was neater now than what Din remembered. He must’ve had more time to shave up a bit without the threat of krayt dragons and tuskens weighing him down. And that silver hair was still slicked back over his head, leaving bare a pair of hazel eyes.

They were hazel. And Din could see all the colours there.

“Looks like you’ve been through it,” Cobb said. “How you holding up?”

“How much do you know?”

“Bits and pieces mostly. Shand and Fett wouldn’t share much, and really it’s up to you if you want to share.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

He remembered the nights he spent with Cobb when he had first arrived to Mos Pelgo. During the long stretches of travel between the town, the Tuskens, and the krayt dragon. After enough time, he had begun to speak more companionably with Cobb and shared stories of his own. But even now, he had so much to tell Cobb, to have him understand, because he felt Cobb could understand.

Besides, who knew more about loss than Cobb himself? The slave, the rebel, and the leader?

He was quiet through it all, only asking for clarification. And when it was all done, Din sat there with his head tipped back against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling to ignore the way tears pricked his eyes.

Cobb whistled lowly. “Seems a lot. But I am glad that Fett brought you here. Seems like you needed me.”

Din looked down to him and saw a teasing smirk on Cobb’s lips. “And what exactly would I need a Tatooine Marshal for? Are you even licensed?”

“Appointed. But that ain’t the point. The point is, I’m here for you.”

He felt Cobb’s hand on his leg there, just above his knee and the man squeezed, prompting Din to look at him.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen after this,” Din said, hardly above a whisper because how could he admit to the fact that his life was falling apart? That he didn’t know who he was anymore. He wasn’t the Mandalorian that walked into Mos Pelgo to kill a dragon. Not anymore.

“We’ve all been there,” Cobb said, squeezing and keeping a steady gaze on Din throughout it. “And you know I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay. You can sleep. I’ll be here, waitin’.”

With great effort, Din slowly lay back down on the bed and he lamented the fact that he couldn’t reach with his left hand to hold Cobb’s, to hold him there and know he wasn’t going to leave.

But Cobb was there all the same, and for now that would be enough.

#dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #dincobbweek #dincobbweek2021 #dincobb week #mandalorian #star speaks #star writes

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generalfoolish · 3 years

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Ad'ika

ad'ika: little one

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: canon-complaint violence, burn injuries, Luke and Din fight

Word count: ~1.2K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: A Mandalorian recovers after a nasty fight

A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. I'm working to get caught up, this is "Day 16" Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Ramikadyc | Chaaj’miit

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

It had been six months since you linked up with Din Djarin. Six months of revenge. Six months of hunting and brutalizing Imperials. It had also been six months of soft touches, grief, and hiding.

Luke had convinced you to take a week, just one week, to rest. Din’s ship was barely holding together, and the only time you weren’t in space was when you had boots down on enemy territory.

Of course, neither of you wanted to do that. Neither of you had any intention of doing so, until the last one had gone sideways.

The intel was bad. That had fucked you from the start.

“No more than ten.” The informant had assured you, and you’d forked over the credits.

There were closer to thirty. Not just stormtroopers, either.

“No heavy machinery.” The informant had assured you. You had easily believed him.

A crikking AT-ST and two TIE Fighters told you otherwise. More credits, and more lies.

When you saw how outnumbered you were, you wanted to pull back. You had argued with Din to leave. But, he’d been unmovable in his resolve to see it done. He’d tried to reason with you briefly.

“We can take them out, and then they can’t hurt anyone else.” He’d told you softly, crouched in the nearby brush.

“If we can take them out.” You’d retorted. But his mind had already been made. The darksaber now hung from his waist, and you knew that it was influencing his choice. His decisions had become bolder and rasher, and when he had first brought the darksaber you wondered if it was a mistake.

Now, you know.

You’ve just woken up, and the past week is fleeting. You remember scorched skin and screaming. Only know, memory hazy, do you realize that both the smell and the screams had been your own. A direct hit from the TIE Fighter.

Din had managed to take one TIE down. The AT-ST was next, you’re own doing. Fast-thinking had kept you both alive so far, and the actual Imps ahd gone down easily. The last TIE though, it had circled when you were messing with the legs of the AT-ST, and you hadn’t noticed the red laser in time. You’d crumpled immediately, and now, you realized why. You were burned, badly. The freezing cold of space was doing nothing for your comfort. You were shivering and it hurt your skin, and you knew you’d already been given an injection. There was only one onboard, you had fought Din for it to be here.

“Too expensive.” He had muttered when you had suggested it. Expensive, but necessary, you had countered. He’d seen your way, and you were glad he wasn’t pig-headed and stubborn all the time.

He had saved your life. You didn’t know how, just that you weren’t dead. By all accounts, you should be. You should be just another crumpled body on the jungle floor, but Din had carried you back to the ship. You wondered where he was going now.

Your eyes were heavy, and you realized the medicine was still strong in your system. You didn’t want to think about how bad off you’d be without it.

You awoke to steady babbling. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted with Luke’s warm face smiling down at you.

“You took quite the beating, ad’ika.” Luke told you, searching your face. You stretched a little, and grimaced. “I did what I could, but you were badly hurt. You’ll likely be sore for a few more days.” You moved every muscle, slowly. Testing everything out. The last time you’d been awake, you had been badly burned. Your skin seemed healed, at least.

“Was that Mando'a? Are you learning it, Luke?” You asked, trying to sit up. You were in Luke’s hut, and you wondered how long you had been out. You only wore a tunic, and you felt swampy.

“Ah, yes. Din has been teaching me. I was going to try to teach Grogu a few words, as well as Basic.” You smiled, the thought of Din and Luke over the fire sounding out Mando’a calmed your worry.

“That is nice. Thank you for everything. How long have I been out?” You watched Luke’s features cloud a bit at your question.

“It’s been a week since you arrived, but Din told me that it took another week to travel here.” You hissed at his words. Unconscious for two weeks was a bad sign, and the pain radiating from every cell of your body was another.

“I heard Grogu, is he close?” You asked, your voice much more watery than you wanted it to be. Luke nodded, and helped you to your feet. You felt better standing, but knew you’d never get far. You relished the opportunity to stretch out, regardless.

“Swamp thing!” You cried, exiting the hut, and seeing two ears peeking over Din’s shoulder. The babbling ceased for a moment, and then Grogu climbed further up his dad to see you. He was all teeth and gums, smiling broadly at you, and making grabby hands. You obliged happily, and sat down next to Din, already feeling weaker. He rubbed your knee, and gave you a soft smile.

It was odd to see him without his armor. You assumed he had stashed it on the Crest, waiting for you to heal. His edges seemed much softer without the steel, and you noticed that the darksaber was left behind as well.

“How’re you feeling, cyar’ika?” You leaned against his broad shoulder and sighed.

“Better now. Thanks for...everything.” You told him quietly. He huffed.

“It’s my fault. We should have never...I should have listened to you. Next time, I will.” He promised, and you smiled at his words.

“Our brave warrior is going nowhere, anytime soon.” Luke said flatly, his arms crossed. He looked disappointed, almost angry.

“I’ll be fine in a few days, Luke. You said so yourself.” You told him, playing with Grogu’s ears absent-mindedly.

“Because of me. Because I Force healed you. You could have died.” His voice was tense, and you could feel Grogu begin to understand the tense shift in emotion.

“We can talk about this later.” You warned, eyes darting to your lap. Luke’s expression softened, but his posture remained tense.

“Accompany me for a walk, Din.” Luke said, and Din squeezed your shoulder. You had a feeling a lot of tense conversations had been had while you were out. You watched them walk into the dense swamp, and dropped your eyes.

“How have you been, ad’ika?” You asked, and his eyes lit up brightly. The babbling started again in earnest, and you tried to stop thinking about the terse conversation hidden in the swamp behind you.

#the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #star wars #Star Wars fic #luke skywalker #mando and grogu

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carpetreveiws · 3 years

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Helluva Boss Episode 6 Review

It's Saturday, the twenty-first of August. I wake up at ten. This week has been, to say the least, taxing. My morning routine has fallen into a lull lately. I wake up, find something to eat (usually nothing more than a slice of bread). I open my phone, and the rather rigid itinerary continues:

Open discord

Open twitter

Open instagram

Open snapchat

Open youtube

Open any games that give free daily rewards (though I barely play them anymore).

This routine is borne not out of a personal need for structure, but purely out of apathy towards anything I see. I don't care about updates, I don't scroll through social media, I very rarely type in comments sections. I am done in five to ten minutes.

So, I had kind of forgotten about Helluva Boss. As a matter of fact, it didn't even appear in my youtube recommended, which it has unfailingly done for its past 5 episodes. I had said, a few months ago, when I wrote my last review, that I was losing faith in the series. I didn't think Vivenne had the right mindset for writing, visible in the series' basic structure and frankly cringeworthy sense of humour. By this time yesterday, I had no expectations left for Helluva Boss and no concern over what its future was going to look like. About a year ago I bought a funny little Hazbin Hotel merch t-shirt that I am wearing right now (Ironically, I was wearing it before realizing a new episode had been released. I put it on this morning because it was Saturday and I don't have to see anybody. I like the colors).

So fast forward. It's now around five-thirty in the evening, and I am checking my twitter again. There's an image on my feed, captioned by somebody (I can't remember what the caption is). A Helluva Boss screenshot. I close the tab instantly, and go to youtube, typing into the bar "Helluva Boss episode 6". There it is. I look at the timestamp, 22 minutes, and immediately think to myself: Oh shit, it's review day.

And it is. So here's my review. This intro was a joke, and most of it's made up.

Summed up: This episode is a step in the right direction. All these random character points, that felt too simple, or too back-seated in previous episodes get to take center stage (finally). It's focused only on Blitzo and Moxxie, but by the end of it, they actually feel like fairly complete characters. We start in the center of the action, which works perfectly for a show like this. Even though it's been two months, I am pulled back into the show almost instantly. It opens with some clever animation, of the tv screens, but these aren't the best visuals we'll be seeing this episode by any stretch of the word. In a few quick lines, each character is not only placed into their element: Blitzo's vulgar admonishments, Moxxie's sardonic reproach. Millie is aggressive, but we're again reminded how much she cares for Moxxie. She shouts at Loona to open the gate, and Loona refuses, citing her knowledge of Blitzo, and how she knows he's serious. It's perfect. I love it.

From here we have Moxxie and Blitzo restrained in a high security facility, as some agents begin to question them. The next scene is my personal favorite, of possibly the entire series, because we finally get to see Blitzo and Moxxie acting in sync, being friends, I guess, when we've only gotten bits of that before. They've mostly just bounced off of each other, so it's some nice character development. Good job.The rest will come in a bit. Rogers also gets to show off a bit his knack for the snappy dialogue. Though, every silver cloud: the scene ends with a "your mom" "my mom's dead" joke, that would hardly be funny in a reddit thread. It is downright awful here.

Loona and Millie are infiltrating the facility for a violent intermission.

So here's the real meat of the episode: The agents release into the room a "truth gas" that does exactly what the name implies (oddly enough, they never bother to question the imps before the gas dissipates). After realizing what the gas does, both Moxxie and Blitzo enter musical hallucinations, in which they confront each other, and the personal issues in each of them that contribute to their flawed relationship. Before, I continue, I want to note that the music and animation here are stellar, but again, the episode has better visuals still on the way. This number is essentially what all those bits of development between them were leading up to, and it's great. All of it is paying off. The series will change from here on out, hopefully: We'll get to see a healed Blitzo and Moxxie taking on all the villains that were set up. I was going to mention it later, but I guess I'll just awkwardly shoehorn it in now: Each episode has set up a new villain and none have recurred yet and that is not at all a good thing. I have no idea how Vivienne gonna get through all of them in a meaningful way. Back to the scene at hand: We're going through Moxxie's natural submissiveness, and Blitzo's fear of both intimacy and of being alone (does some of the dialogue here feel too imitative of Rick and Morty? I don't know. That's your call). When it's over, Blitz realizes his love for Stolas (romantic) and for Moxxie (platonic) (probably). They agree to be better friends. Congrats. We did it. The payoff is here.

Let's celebrate with a big ol beautifully animated fight scene that's just as edgy as these 2012 deviantart furries (Loona is back as a wolf, thank you). It's fast, bloody, at one point Blitzo pulls out a comically large rocket launcher labeled "MY DICK" and it shoots a missile labeled "PUSSY DESTROYER" and to my absolute shock, I laugh. That's right: This episode made me laugh one time. But honestly, that doesn't matter to me too much, because this isn't trying nearly as hard as the other episodes to be comedic. It's focused on other things, and I can appreciate it for that. As a twist, the original two agents escape, and slam that big red button. They're locked inside, guns pointed at them, and when it seems as though all hope is lost, Stolas arrives, which a demonstration of his power. Yet another piece of this episodes that fills some previously teased aspect. He's possessing people, raising dead in here, and his "true form" is what I mentioned a few times earlier: the most beautiful visual in the series yet. Or maybe I just like owls.

The episode is over, and I close the tab, thinking about how I'm going to write this review. I'm astounded. I had legitimately lost hope for this series. And just when I least expect it, Vivienne comes with an episode on par, maybe even better, than the second. Each character is realized, the animation is stunning, it feels like it's exactly what it wants to be. To put things into perspective though, I still don't think this episode nears the series' hypothetical full potential. It's certainly not on par with the best of some of the shows it recalls. The comedy still suffers, and the character development doesn't have a ton to work off of, and I that age warning at the beginning still feels misplaced. But you know what? Vivenne has made something half-decent here. And I can appreciate that. If the show keeps this up, hopefully even getting better, and minds bringing back one of those six or seven villains that have already been set up, then the future looks bright. It is with pride, joy, and definitely definitely tears in my eyes that I give this episode a 6/10.

#helluva boss

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slashy-ashy · 4 years

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You know it's so strange going on TikTok to view bat fam content or better yet, Nightwing/Dick Grayson content, because I would see this awesome post which is just exclusively just about Dick, and then I will look at the comments just to see which part of the video really tickled everyone's fancy and most if not all of the posts are just

”yeah but have you seen Jason?”

”this...but make it Jason”

”Yes! Love Nightwing but what about Jason😫”

”this would be better if my boy Jason was in it😤”

”oh my gosh just imagine this but with Tim”

”lol Tim would so do this ”

”imp Tim fits this better then Dick”

And it's crazy because I was just scrolling on the comments of a user on Tiktok called @dickgraysonsleftshoe (which go give her a follow) and she made a post kind of talking about what I'm talking about and a comment said something along the lines of

”Dick stans do the same”

And that kind of got me thinking... And I would have to say from my experience ON TIKTOK AND JUST TIKTOK that no they wouldn't necessarily do the same thing because I know that on Tumblr I made sure to go out of my way to follow Dick Grayson fan accounts, I made sure to like and reblog content that talks or even deep dives into Dick Grayson’s character and I have found that for the most part that AND THIS IS FROM MY EXPERIENCE (and sorry for yelling I just want it known that again my experiences are different from your own) that I don't see many or any Dick Grayson fans ever stepping on the toes of Jason stans, Tim Stans, Damian stans, Duke stans, Barbara stans, and etc.

But on TikTok I see this happen a lot and honestly, it gets annoying sometimes lol, like I'm still properly trying to find my comic book niche on the app and it's so exciting seeing people bring him to life via cosplay, art, and meme posts but what I'm trying to say is it would be awesome if people just gave him props when props are due instead of trying to take the spotlight off of his skills, abilities, or personality and give it to another member of the bat fam and since I'm not on that app searching up much content about Dick I just get sent a lot of like posts from like again Jason and Tim stans mostly. But like much of my frustrations if you want to call them that, but I'm not frustrated it's mostly confusion because I can't peacefully exist within that niche without someone coming out of the woodworks to just be like 1!1!” Dicks such a BaD BrOTheR I mean Jason and Tim are like THE definition of brother goals❤️🤗❤️” and I'm just over her like 🧍🏾‍♀️because then you have everyone in the comments agreeing with that posters sentiments and then, of course, you have people going hmmm🤔 but what about that time Jason tried to Kill Tim? ”Jason was having a hard time, okay, but at the end of the day they forgave each other so it's all 😌👍” so what makes Dick such a bad brother, I remember a time when those two were always written as being on good terms, and I mean Dick even made sure to let Tim know that he could always call him and talk to him and Tim did take him up on his offer, I mean it's the same with

Just like he did with Jason

”Yeah but Dick fired Tim from being robin, and didn't believe Tim when he said that he thought Bruce was still alive, and he also went behind Tim's back and found Tims parents who he was trying to hide away from the bat family to protect them😌”

And then you can get more like ’tasteful’ Tiktoks where you see Dick and Jason kind of fight for Tims affections and I just aaaaaaaaagggghhh😫😫😖. I don't know about you guys but I just don't want anyone to be fighting for anyone else's affections because in my opinion it has already been won, I mean Dick loves all of his brothers and his sister, Jason no matter how big, bad, and tough people want to make him out as loves Dick and his brothers and sister too, just like Tim, just like Damian, just like Duke, and just like Cass. They don't have to fight for the title of best anything because at the end of the day they are FAMILY and yeah recently with the whole Ric thing (and let me just say 🗣🗣DICK DESERVED BETTER!!!), the whole Damian leaving the bat fam, Tim becoming Robin again (🗣TIM DESERVES BETTER!!!), and those are really the only things that I know of they really need to come together as a family again, and just be one with one another, and 🗣HEAL AND TALK, THAT'S ALL I WANT, FOR THEM TO JUST SIT DOWN AND TRULY GET TO THE NITTY GRITTY AND TALK EVERYTHING THROUGH.

Because I mean they are all super intelligent in their own rights, and you want me to believe that even they don't notice this like very much noticeable rift in each other and that they are okay with things as it is? Yeah, I call bullshit. But anyway I am all over the place with this post. But it was to complain about people finding Nightwing posts and just making them solely be about Jason and Tim. That's it, that was the post.

Oh my gosh, it sounds so stupid now, but I stand by this post because I don't see the same thing happening on Jason or Tim videos all that much and I don't want that to happen at all because at the end of the day it's all so confusing and I am confusion so see you later 👋🏾

#batman #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #rant #rants n rambles #tiktok

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b0n-chann · 4 years

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Hi you guys! So I’m just going to say it now, I split up this last part into two so there will be a total of four chapters in this series. I had it all put together but it was such a behemoth of a fic, splitting it in half seemed more manageable. AND. I’m happy where this half is after edits so I got it out early 🤗.

For my regular readers, you’ll find that a part of the back half of this fic sounds familiar, I ended up using the soulmate prompt because it just fit so perfectly. I did edit it a bit so that it fit better but the idea is the same.

I’m finishing up part 4 soon, and then I’ll start edits but it shouldn’t take too long to post!

To Love And Protect (Part 3)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

“Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Just get it over with. I’d rather you kill me than some Imp.”

“I told you. I am no longer a hunter. I am a nurse droid.”

“Look. I appreciate what you did for her and for the kid, but IGs are all hunters.”

“Not this one. I was reprogrammed. I need to remove your helmet if I am to save you as your wife wished.”

“My wife? No, she’s not my wife. But try it and I’ll kill you. It is forbidden. No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I swore the Creed.” But as much as he respected the Creed, he has never wanted to break his oath more if it meant coming back to you.

“I am not a living thing.” The droid reminds him, and the Mandalorian’s helmet hisses as IG-11 removes it from Din’s head. A spray appears out of his hand. “This is a bacta spray. It will heal you in a matter of hours. You have suffered damage to your central processing unit.” He begins to spray the side of Din’s head, it’s cooling mist already having an effect on him.

Din looks up at him confused. “You mean my brain?”

“That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease. Your wife didn’t seem to understand that I make jokes either.”

“I told you, she’s not my wife.” Even though I’d like her to be, he added that thought to himself.

“Well, now that I have healed you, you can make her your wife. Or have I mistaken your feelings for her?” The droid pulls the Mandalorian to a sitting position. Images of living a happy life with you and the kid flash through Din’s head. Yes, that is exactly what he wanted, but he still felt unnerved that the droid could know so much about him.

“No, but I have a lot to make up for with her.” Din stands by himself, the bacta spray already working it’s magic.

“Oh, yes. You did upset the miss a great deal when you left.” The droid looked over to Din, as is assessing him. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a ship, but I’ll survive.”

“Good.” IG-11 walks up to the Mandalorian before punching him in the gut. Din doubles over in pain, the wind knocked out of him.

“What was that for?!” He gasps, holding onto a table trying to regain his breath.

“I thought I told you. You upset the miss. I am merely, how do you humans say it, ‘paying you back’”. Din guffaws at this.

“I guess I deserved that.”

“You did.”

———————

You make your way through the sewer tunnels, Cara next to you and Karga bringing up the rear.

“Hey,” Cara says quietly to you, “what was that back there? I know the little womp rat has freak of nature powers but it looked like you were doing something too?” She asks genuinely interested. Cara has always been trustworthy so you figure it’s safe to tell her at least something.

“I don’t know what to call it, but I’ve had these abilities for as long as I can remember. I’ve been able to move objects with my mind and my parents were terrified of me when I was a small girl. As I got older it’s gotten easier to control.” You pause for a moment and look at the shock trooper. There was no judgement in her face, just curiosity. “I have a strange connection to the kid, I’m able to feel his presence. It’s how I actually met the Mandalorian. I had been wandering around looking for something and literally ran into them after they escaped Nevarro. Little did I know that that something was this little one,” you say, nudging the child who babbles happily at you. Your heart aches as you think about Din but you continue to move forward. It’s what he would have wanted.

“I punched him for you, you know.”

“What? When?”

“On our way here. He told me a little bit of what happened and I clocked him for being a stupid man.” You laugh, loudly. Gods you loved Cara Dune. “But I know he was trying to protect you. It was eating him up the entire way here.”

“He’s always been so complicated.”

“Stupid is more like it.”

“Hey, I don’t appreciate that.” Your heads both whip behind you and you watch in amazement as IG-11 helps Din walk towards you. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’ve walked back to meet them.

“Hi, Beautful,” he says, still sagging heavily on the droid, but he uses his free hand to play with the ends of your hair before moving to put his hand on the Child’s head.

“You’re okay,” you breathe out. He looks a little worse for wear but he’s here and alive.

“I fixed his central processing unit,” IG responds and you laugh; a full body laugh that forces you’re head to tilt back and the Mandalorian has never seen you look more beautiful.

“I missed that,” he says quietly. He removes his weight from the droid and slowly stands upright. You step closer to him in case he needs assistance and he places a hand around your shoulders. “I missed this, too.” Being able to his arms around you and the Child was almost too much for Din, and he was thankful that you could support him. He quickly presses his forehead to yours in a sign of affection before returning upright. “We should get going.” You nod and look down at the child.

“Ready?” The Child babbles at you in return. IG appears next to you, his hands outstretched.

“I can take the Child, Miss,” the droid says. You place the kid in his care before placing your arm around Din’s waist.

“Thanks IG. And thanks for bringing him back.”

“It is my pleasure, Miss. I also paid the Mandalorian back for you.”

You cock your head sideways in confusion as Din tries to hold in his laughter as he realized what the droid meant.

“What do you mean?”

“He means he sucker punched me in the gut for you, so we’re even.” You can hear Cara laughing behind you.

“You ever hurt her again, Mando, and the whole world will be coming for you.”

You laugh again. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook so easy,” you start and you swear you can see Din blanch behind his helmet. “But it’s a start.”

——————

The group continues through the sewers, the smell of sulfur thick in the air. However, if feels like you’re headed no where.

“Ugh, this place is a maze. Do you know where we’re going?” Cara asks Din.

He shakes his head. “I’ve only ever entered through the bazaar.” He stops for a moment before taking his arm off of you and standing upright. “I’m okay,” he says quietly. You smile up at him and nod.

“The bacta infusion is working,” IG says from beside you.

“I’ll try to find some tracks.” Din begins to look around and you take the time to admire him. His ability to find something out of nothing always amazes you. “This way.” He points left and the group follows. It feels as if the turns are endless but Din shows no signs of slowing down. How did the covert ever find themselves down here? You’re lost in your thoughts until you almost walk right into Din and you realize he’s stopped. You become concerned when he falls to his knees, worried that his injuries have worsened but stare in horror at what’s in front of him. A large pile of abandoned Mandalorian armor.

You hesitantly move closer to Din before putting your hand on his shoulder. “Din...”

“I can’t leave it like this.”

“I know, let us help you.” He finds your hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. He turns his head towards Karga.

“Did you know about this? Was this the work of your bounty hunters?” Din spat, and you’ve never heard him so spiteful.

“No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended and the hunters melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries. They’re not zealots.” Din gets up abruptly and approaches the man.

“Did you do this? Did you?!” He all but yells, pointing a finger at his chest.

“It was not his fault.” A modulated female voice comes out of nowhere and everyone turns to face her. “We revealed ourselves. We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This,” she says, her arm outstretched to the armor, “is what resulted.”

“Did any survive?”

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world.”

“Come with us.”

“No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.” The Armorer places one last helmet on her cart before pushing it away. Din looks towards you before following her. You hesitantly make your way forwards further into the tunnels.

You watch as the Armorer puts a piece of armor in the forge, never having seen anything like it.

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.” IG steps forward, showing the Child to her.

“This is the one.” You move away from Din, releasing his hand, which the Armorer did not fail to miss. You make your way to IG and the Child, patting his head affectionately.

“This is the one you hunted, then saved?”

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.”

“From the mudhorn.”

“Yes.”

“It looks helpless.” The Child coos but you decide to keep quiet, allowing Din to speak.

“He is injured, but he is not helpless. His species can move objects with their minds, however...” he stops and looks over to you as if asking for your permission. You nod allowing him to share your secret. “However, she seems to exhibit some signs of that as well.”

The Armorer nods in acknowledgement before ladling some of the liquid metal from the forge. “I know of such things. The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore The Great, and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

“These people are enemies?” Din asks, alarmed. He knows you and the Child are not, but if he were to find the Child’s species, he needed to know if they were hostile.

“These two are not.”

“What is he?”

“He is a foundling. By Creed, he is in your care.”

“You wish me to train him?”

“He is too weak. He would die. You have no choice, you must reunite him with his own kind.”

“Where?”

“This you must determine.” The Armorer pours the metal into a mold, but you are unable to determine what it is. If Din is to find the Child’s kind, you could be searching planets for years.

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver him to a race of enemy sorcerers?” The Armorer looks up at him.

“This is the way.” She says before she begins her work, hammering away and effectively ending their conversation for the moment.

“Hey,” Cara says stepping forward. “These tunnels will be lousy with imps in a matter of minutes. I think we should at least discuss an escape plan.”

“If you follow the descending tunnel it will lead you to the underground river. If flows downstream towards the lava flats.”

“I think we should go,” Karga says.

“I’m staying,” Din replies. “I need to help her and I need to heal.” Before you can argue the Armorer responds.

“You must go, a foundling is in your care. By creed, until he becomes of age or is reunited with his own kind, you are as his father.” You look to Din, your eyes betraying your emotions. You are so proud of him, knowing how much this means to him, and you swear to protect him and the child with your own life. “This is the way.” Din can only nod at her, unable to find his own words. The Armorer walks towards him and places something on his pauldron. “You have earned your signet.” She says, attaching it to his armor. “You are a clan of two.” When she moves, you see a symbol of a Mudhorn and smile as you remember the story Din told you about the Child. It is a very fitting symbol.

“Thank you. I will wear it with honor.”

“IG, please scout the area for enemies. The rest of you, please refill your supplies and restock your munitions.” The droid follows her orders, but before he leaves he gives the child back to you.

“I will return shorty, Miss. Please watch the Child while I am away.” He says, not waiting for a reply before walking into into the hallway. You fix the Child in your arms before walking around the armory, seeing what you can salvage.

“Have you trained in the art of the Rising Phoenix?”

“When I was a boy, yes.”

“Then this will make you complete.” She shows him his jet pack.

“Thank you.”

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands. I will have IG hold it for you for now.” Din nods in agreement. He notices the Armorer’s gaze and follows it to you and the Child gathering supplies.

“You two are close,” she speculates.

“Yes.”

“How close?”

“I’ve never wanted to take my helmet off more than when I’m with her.”

“Why don’t you then?”

“I owe the Mandalorians my life. I cannot give up the creed.”

“She’s never asked?”

“…Just once. Earlier, in an attempt to save my life. But I refused and she didn’t pursue it. She knows how much I respect the Creed. She’s never pried or begged. She’s allowed me my space and respects that I cannot give more than I have already. I believe she’s my soulmate,” he responds truthfully and sadly. You never once tried to push his boundaries but have always been there when he needs you. However, he fears that one day it won’t be enough for you.

The Armorer assesses the man before her. Even under the helmet, her gaze is piercing, calculating. Din shifts slightly, he can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. She is silent for a moment before turning her attention back to you and the Child. She has seen the way you and Din protect each other. She has seen the determination and fierce protectiveness in your eyes as she spoke to Din about being a father to the Child. Never once did you argue for more importance. She knows how much Din is giving up, continuing to uphold the Creed. However, she has never seen someone who isn’t Mandalorian respect the Creed just as much as you have.

“Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate?” The Armorer starts. “It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s…it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it.”

Din is surprised, he never would have expected such words to come from the Armorer. But then, he realizes, that the isolation is the same for every Mandalorian. Living a life underneath all the armor was as lonesome for him as it was for her, and the desire for acceptance and love must be the same for all of them.

“I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried to fight it…but I’m always going to love her.”

“Does she know that?”

“I’ve told her once, before I told her to escape with the child before the troopers came after them.”

The Armorer presses something into Din’s hand. “I misspoke earlier. You are a clan of three. I realize now the importance of those two to you. I hope you know what that means.”

Din looks down to his hand. Another mudhorn signet attached to a simple chain. “I…yes. I know.”

The Armorer gives him a small nod. “Good. Now go. I will hold them off for as long as I can. Protect your clan; protect your family.”

“Thank you.” Din tucks the signet safely away as he makes his way towards his clan, vowing to himself to keep them safe. Blaster shots ring out in the hallway and you all turn in alarm. Din places himself in front of you and the Child, but relaxes slightly when he sees that it is IG returning.

“You are protected.”

“More will come. You must go.”

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Din asks. The Armorer has always felt like a surrogate mother to Din, and leaving her behind seemed wrong.

“My place is here. IG, carry this for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it.” She hands the pack to the droid. “Now, go. Down to the river and across the plains.” You, Din and the child linger back for a moment as the rest of your group moves through the tunnels once again.

“Stay safe on your journey.” She says before looking towards you. “You, especially. I have a feeling you are what holds these two together.” You look at her, curious at her words but know that now is not the time to get too carried away.

“Thank you.” You, the Child and Din leave the armory and catch up to the rest of your group. The future lay uncertain but for now, you’re together. And for always, you are family.

——————

Tag list:

@momc95 @electricprincess888 @maia-hocane @lamnothome @highonsoundwaves @tedpicklez @renreypoe @mabelleen @cryptkeepersoul @holamor @mando-vibes @lustriix @katialvi @spookyold-saintjm @sarcasm-n-insomnia @awesomefandomsunited @sentimental-ghost

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setsuna-maru · 3 years

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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: 半妖の夜叉姫 | Hanyou no Yashahime | Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon (Anime), InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rin/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha) Characters: Rin (InuYasha), Sesshoumaru (InuYasha), Setsuna (Hanyou no Yashahime), Naraku (InuYasha), Jaken (InuYasha) Additional Tags: Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

After his fateful third encounter with his half-brother, Sesshoumaru meets, not a human girl, but an involuntary time-traveler. Determined to right the path he would've strayed from, the course of history is changed. Years later, an intoxicating scent blows in with the cold gust of a new spring and Sesshoumaru will cross paths with the woman who would've shaped his future.

And possibly still could.

Chapter 6

Sesshoumaru hasn’t seen or heard of the spider hanyo since they left him in pieces years before but he knows that tell-tale miasma stench anywhere. The fact that Naraku managed to survive is somehow less surprising than the fact that he’s confronting Sesshoumaru in person, rather than using a puppet. Or sending one of his detachments.

Everyone is coming out of the woodwork, he mentally scoffs. First he catches wind of that human's scent and now back comes Naraku and his whole bothersome existence.

That human woman was turning out to be just like her would-be daughter; a bad omen.

"Naraku," he acknowledges his newly-reappeared enemy. Sesshoumaru tries to keep his voice as neutral as possible while still maintaining an aura of obvious contempt. Jaken immediately springs into action, cursing the spider and making threats on behalf of his master.

"I'm surprised you've decided to show your face again.” A face that had not visibly changed since their last confrontation. Other than being healed and fully-intact, Naraku looked much the same from the days when Sesshoumaru had become entangled in his complicated web. The one that included Inuyasha and his companions, among countless others.

“When I, Sesshoumaru, and Kirinmaru of the Dawn confronted you years ago, you fled with your tail between your legs and did not return."

Sesshoumaru had never believed Naraku defeated for good. They had only succeeded in chasing him back into hiding. Inuyasha and his band of friends had attempted to hunt him down and finish what the two daiyokais had started but with no luck. Whatever crevice the threatened spider wedged himself into had proven too dark and deep to find.

"Only one of us here has a tail, Sesshoumaru," comes Naraku's reply.

Sesshoumaru smirks. "You'd think with all your downtime Naraku, you would have better comebacks prepared."

"You’re one to judge, Sesshoumaru,” he scoffs, then chuckles. “Why—You famously have a way with words."

"How dare you insult Sesshoumaru-sama!" comes Jaken’s squawking defense. "He is a man of brilliant eloquence. That you’re ignorant of that is only based on the fact that such a great yokai would never waste his oratorical gifts on the likes of you!" Jaken shakes his Nintojo at the spider demon during his speech for emphasis.

"Oh?" Naraku responds, skeptically. "And who does he share them with? You, little yokai?"

Jaken sputters as he tries to come up with a response.

"Well, there's uh...uh...there is no one truly worthy of my master's poetry, you see! No one with whom he can converse on his own level—"

"Jaken!" Sesshoumaru interrupts him, having had enough. "Silence."

The imp stiffens and ceases his useless chatter.

"Naraku; should Kirinmaru and I need to deal with you again? Is that the reason you've returned from whatever sinkhole you crawled up from?"

"Threatening I, Naraku with the superior Beast King?"

The spider's tone is ruthlessly mocking and Sesshoumaru narrows his eyes slightly as he imagines his claws bursting out the back of that boned armor.

Where did this vermin get off, having that attitude? Like he hadn't been scared into hiding for all this time. Like they hadn't had him on the verge of death.

"Go, Sesshoumaru," he teases. "Tug on Uncle Kirinmaru's hakama and tell Father's friend he needs to fight a battle for you again. I'm sure he's in a charitable mood."

"This coming from one who so often relies on manipulating others into doing his dirty work for him," Sesshoumaru counters. “Aided or not, you were confronted with raw power and strength. Not detachments and trickery.”

"Trickery'" Naraku repeats. “Manipulation of others.” His tone is placidly condescending. ‟You are no stranger to these, Sesshoumaru.”

"It’s true,” Naraku admits. “I, Naraku, will use anyone and anything as a tool. But you, Sesshoumaru, are a great daiyokai. Shouldn’t you have more faith in your own abilities?"

“You’re correct that I’m a daiyokai,” he responds coldly, masking his rapidly dwindling patience with this interaction.

“Unlike you, I don't derive my power from thousands of demon parasites. But all that means is that you have no right to say anything to me. You’re a disgusting thing, Naraku." He adds, "Like all hanyos.”

Naraku is undeterred by the pushback. Being much too aware of Sesshoumaru's insecurities, he moves to a subject he's certain remains a sore spot.

"I see you still don't carry Tessaiga at your hip. Am I to assume your half-brother, Inuyasha, retains possession of your father's fang?"

Sesshoumaru’s mouth tightens. He hears Jaken gasp; appalled by the audacity of invoking Inuyasha’s ownership of the Tessaiga.

"So it's me you've come to first to announce yourself, and not my hanyo brother," he points out. "Should I be flattered? Am I, Sesshoumaru, your new obsession?"

“It was curiosity that brought me to seek you out first," Naraku says. "Was it not a human woman I discovered you conversing with the other day? It seemed like she had an awful lot to say to you.”

Sesshoumaru fights to keep his face impassive. Unless Naraku had used a puppet, he should have been able to smell him or any of his detachments if they had been that close. Just what form of Naraku had been watching—And from where?

“Humans are numerous and unavoidable, even to this one,” he responds, careful not to protest too forcefully.

Naraku persists. “She approached you without fear or hesitation.”

“Are you really expecting I, Sesshoumaru, to explain the behavior of a human?” Again, he treads lightly, measuring his response. He will use no more words of explanation than necessary. For a moment, he wonders why. It's not as if he's trying to protect her.

He’s not.

Sesshoumaru thinks back to the encounter by the river. The damn woman had been so eager to talk . Would she talk to Naraku?

On the chance that she did, whether willingly or by force, what of it? Even if she told him all about Setsuna, she was entirely unaware of the girl’s true nature.

And if Naraku managed to surmise that information regardless...well, it might actually work to Sesshoumaru’s advantage.

Let the spider think he’d found a weakness of his to exploit. Let him try to use it against him. Sesshoumaru would stand proud, smugly belittle him for having such a ridiculous idea and show the fool just how little he cared.

Sesshoumaru's hand goes to the battle sword at his left side. In one swift, fluid motion, he unsheathes Sōryūjin and makes a swipe at Naraku. His target dodges the blade and floats into the air.

"Run to Uncle Kirinmaru," Naraku taunts him, his dark curling hair rising in a curtain above his pale head. "You'll find I, Naraku, will be ready for him."

With that, the spider hanyo flew away, drifting off into the horizon.

"Why, the nerve of him!" Jaken huffs.

His vassal looks up at him, radiating with outrage. "Sesshoumaru-sama, will you go after Naraku? He's getting away!"

"No, Jaken," he says to the imp's consternation. Sesshoumaru needed the opportunity to consider what action to take. Naraku was nothing but a pest, and if he was going to insist on infesting their lives once more, Sesshoumaru would destroy him for good. With or without the Eastern Lord's help.

Sesshoumaru asked Setsuna no further questions and ceased any appearance of cordiality. As far as he was concerned, this is where his business with her ended. He told her so, and in language he imagined to be as devastating and offensive as the situation deserved.

(Years later, he’ll try to recall what exactly he said to her. He’d wanted to make it brutally clear just how he felt about the existence of half-demons but, for some reason, he hadn’t really wanted to insult her personally. In the end, he can’t remember if the generic condemnations he’s thinking of are things he’d actually said to her or lines he’d taunted Inuyasha with around the same time.)

Tainted blood courses through your body...A hanyo whose mother is a human is a disgrace to all our kind...Don’t come near me again, stick to humans—It suits you...Infinitely vulgar beings...I won’t fall to a weakness of the heart...What can half-demons do? You’re useless to me...

His contempt for humans and half-demon’s had stock phrases.

Sesshoumaru had needed something to keep his mind occupied during long days of fruitless hunting for the Tessaiga. It was easy to become fixated on what had left him in that situation in the first place.

For her part, Setsuna seemed deeply unimpressed.

His cruel rejection of her is met by vacant boredom. If anything he had said had gotten under her skin, her face denied it. Inuyasha would have called him a bastard and made several clumsy attempts on his head by that point. Again, he was forced to recognize part of himself in her stoic refusal to be baited into a reaction.

“Are you finished?” she asked, after one last condemnation of her as existential terror.

“Do you understand that we are not to come into contact again? That you are to act as if we have no relationship to one another?”

“It’s not as though that’ll take any getting used to," she replied sardonically.

“Kirinmaru,” he reminded her. “Leave him to me. You’re not to seek him out for any reason.”

Setsuna shrugged. “He’s no business of mine. I already told you; I declined that offer.”

“Then there’s nothing else to discuss. We should not cross paths again.”

With that, he turned his back on her. As far as he knew at the time, that might be the last he'd ever see of the girl; her back against the tree, arms folded, her face defiantly expressionless.

Would she ever make it back to her own time, to her sister? Sesshoumaru certainly wouldn't be worrying himself with such concerns. The only thing he cared about was that she stayed out of his way and didn't draw any attention to herself.

Farewell, Setsuna; you're on your own.

He wondered once more if he should go the extra step of ending her life. It would be the most convenient thing to do. He decided against it, telling himself it was because she still possessed pertinent knowledge of future events. Things it would help to know but hadn’t yet occurred to him to ask about. Never mind the fact that he’d just deliberately set that bridge on fire.

His rationalization complete, Sesshoumaru’s thoughts turned to what to do about Kirinmaru. He wasn’t sure if it would be wise to confront him. Damn Inuyasha—The Tessaiga was wasted on him. What use did the hanyo have for such a powerful sword? What had their father expected his eldest to do if it ever came time for him to confront the Lord of the East?

His desire for his own powerful fang was stronger than ever now. Totosai, the old geezer, would still refuse to forge him one. There were other swordsmith’s—None as good as Totosai, but Sesshoumaru wielding would more than make up for any deficiencies in craft.

He wondered if his Other had ever succeeded in taking Tessaiga from Inuyasha. Or had that demoralizing failure only pushed him even further from his intended path?

Setsuna might've known the answer to that; if he had thought to ask about it. But it doesn’t matter and it’s not worth dwelling over; he's already returned to the correct path; the roads have already diverged. He was the real Sesshoumaru and it was what he did from here on out that truly counted.

All the same, the image of Setsuna's face lingered in his mind; it’s fine details memorized against his will. Pieces of their conversation play back to him and the voice that says "we’re complete strangers" with nothing indicative of caring is her own low one.

He thought back to Tessaiga; that sword meant to be inherited by a half-demon; the sword that had protected Inuyasha's human mother. It's the only semi-rational explanation for what his Other had done but...perhaps, Setsuna’s birth had been an experiment. A last ditch effort at taking Tessaiga for himself.

Lack of compassion for humans was supposedly what had repelled Sesshoumaru from wielding it with his own hands. Would he really have gone that far in pursuit of his father’s fang? If the experiment had proven to be a failure then, that would explain why his other self and his progeny were strangers.

There was a part of him that would like to believe in that scenario but, ultimately, he can’t. (Hanyo or not, he would never abandon his children.) But again, it doesn’t matter. Whatever the reasons for what the Other had done, that future wasn’t his anymore.

Regardless, as things stood then and there, Tessaiga remained stubbornly outside his grasp. He still would need a blade sufficient enough to battle any opponent; from his lowly half-brother, to Naraku to, potentially, Kirinmaru.

Sesshoumaru had a notorious swordsmith to seek out. Kaijinbo would craft him an impressive blade, he was sure of it. He just needed to locate a suitable fang.

#SessRin #SessRin Fanfiction #SessRin Fanfic #bye bye butterfly #bye bye butterfly chapter 6

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ashley-jones · 3 years

Text

The Poison Sister

Chapter 4

Haunting Memories

Warning: sexual assault, manipulation, and abuse, kind of incest..? (Biting is meant for mating, but he’s biting her to use her manipulation of memories and dreams..)

Memories

Normal

“Lady Akame!!” Jaken yelped. He watched the female walk down the path ahead of them. Her eyes graced forward and only a slight twitch of her tipped ears showed that she heard the imp. “Why are you alone Jaken?” the female questioned. “L-lord Sesshomaru’s arm had been cut clean off! D-during a battle with Inuyasha!!” he yelled. “H-he needs your healing abilities my lady..” he mumbled. She turned looking at Jaken closely then nodded and walked towards him.

The imp led her through the forest and towards the laying demon. “You truly are pointless.” she mumbled. “I can’t heal a limb, but I can’t stop the bleeding.” she stated. Her boots clicked as she stepped on a tree stump and sat down. She grabbed his sleeve, forcing him to sit up and ignoring his threatening growl. “Growl at me all you want, it’s not getting you anywhere.” she firmly stated.

The two said nothing, the female only watching as a bright red light emitted from her left hand healing the harsh ripped skin. He took notice of their mother’s scent crossing against her skin, but also the sight of So’unga strapped her back neatly underneath her boa; which had slipped down and wrapped around her elbows. Silver strands where tied back in a loose ponytail, and golden eyes shining brightly in the darkness. When he looked at her, the first thing he thought of was royalty. She didn’t wear a crown or a fancy kimono, but instead held a confident gaze with a powerful attitude. She held marking that only a true royal daiyokai could hold, a sword of a great dog demon; a body filled with poison that could kill the strongest demon in mere seconds. Her whole being screamed queen of the world. But yet she wasn’t. She refused her title. Refused her marriage. Refused her royal name.

Just as he had done the same thing.

Jaken stared at his lord cut arm, as the skin was no longer gushing blood nor was the skin torn and rotten; but instead fully healed over and sealed. Akame had departed to a river to wash her hands of any blood. She spoke nothing to her older brother, only when she called him ‘pointless’. But yet even after he almost had her killed, she still helped his arm. He slowly stood up ignoring Jaken’s yells for him to rest. The daiyokai made his way towards the river and looked at the female.

She sat on her knees cleaning her hands, her boa laying beside her along with Murasume and So’unga. “So mother had the sword this whole time.” he stated. The female just hummed and sat back fixing her kimono sleeves, and then pulled up her stockings more. She then stood up and pushed her hair back fixing the ponytail. “Mother sends her regards. Says you should visit sometime.” she stated. She picked her things and walked away, the small fox quikcly jumping onto her shoulder. “Akame.” the male growled. Her pace stopped and she looked down and then back towards him. “What happened that night?” his voice was cold, but his eyes showed slight concern for the girls well-being. “Why do you care? Why don’t you continue believing what you assume. You spent over 60 years believing it, so why ask for the truth now?” she questioned.

He walked towards her grabbing her arm, turning her body so she was facing him. He could see her darkened veins showing the miasma draining through her body has not left yet. She looked to the side the fox leaving her shoulder and began chasing Jaken. “Why do you care..?” she whispered. “Because your still my sister.” he growled. “And if you refuse to tell me, then I’ll find out myself.” he growled. Her body was shoved against a tree, his palm pressing against her wrist causing a black chain to wrap around both of their hands, his fangs dug into the crook of her neck.

The female clenched her teeth grabbing onto the sleeve his kimono, her eyes glowing brightly as a blue barrier surrounded them. Everything soon went black and memories sank around the two of them. Memories that have been haunting her.

Akame sat on the bank looking over the flowing river. She had a long black and red kimono on, and murasume laid beside her. Long silver strands blowing in the wind, and gold eyes mimicking the shimmering moon. ‘I know your back there Kikyo.’ the female mumbled. The priestess walked out slowly and made her way towards the young daiyokai.

Akame stood against the tree watching, her hand clenching her older brothers kimono tightly; his fangs digging into her skin harder. “S-Sesshomaru.. p-please stop..” she whispered. He just shifted closer as he growled against her skin.

‘Kirinmaru..?’ the female whispered. She slowly stood up as Kikyo walked away hiding her smirk. Miasma surrounded the area causing the daiyokai’s body to weaken. Her eyes glazed over as she fell back slightly, her back colliding with the ground. The imitation daiyokai for on top of her, miasma emitting from his body. ‘Stop...’ she whispered.

Her kimono was torn from her body, the demon crying for the man to stop. Her virgin body was slammed into, her lips parting and a silent cry left her lips. Blood dripped from her ruined cunt, and tears began falling down her cheeks. The demon began to pound into her, laughing as her cries got louder begging for him to stop. Each time she attempted to fight back the miasma got stronger causing her body to weaken. The demon was using the royal daiyokai, scentencing her to death by her own families hand. Poisoning her royal blood by stealing the only innocent part of her body.

Tears fell down her cheeks as her body slowly fell limp against her older brother. Small cries left her throat. She tried to break loose of his hold no longer wanting to see the memories. But the chains held them together until he removed his fangs. She slammed her eyes shut crying as she struggled. The first time Sesshomaru had bit her, Tōga had to rip the boy from her body. She remembered blood gushing from her throat, and how her father tried everything he could to rid of the wound. Tōga and Inukimi almost killed the boy once the wound had been fully healed.

Her body laid there, kimono torn and only covering her bloodied cunt and breasts. Blood and semen had sank across her thighs, while the female looked broken. She slowly pulled herself up and clawed her way to the river, sinking inside. A blue light surrounded the pond, and a loud scream from the demon could be heard. A deep guttural growl echoed across the air. But the female looked as if she noticed nothing around her.

But the moment her older brother came into view, her tear filled eyes met his. Her body weakened and covered in scratches. The scent of virgin blood covered the land. A growl left the older siblings throat. ‘Whore.’ he growled. That word brought the female over the edge. A cry left her lips and she entangled her clawed hands into her hair shaking her head. ‘I-I’m not! I t-told him t-to s-stop...’ she whimpered. ‘Tch. Your pathetic. And a disgrace to this family, just like father.’ he growled. The siblings soon turned and left the shattered girl. ‘Brother..!’ she cried out.

Finally she was released from her brothers hold and fell to the grassy field. Her knees digging into the ground as she gripped her neck, her body shivering. The memories leaving a cold sweat graze across her silk skin. Blood dripped from her brothers lips as he stared forward with blood filled eyes. He was angry. Very very angry.

Akame sat alone in the clearing, her brother having left her a while ago. She had given up on attempting to stop the bleeding, and just allowed the blood to soak the top of her kimono. “Are you proud father?” the female mumbled. “Our family is just filled with a bunch of fucked up demons..” she whispered. “Royal blood... Dumbest thing I’ve ever heard..” she whispered. “Would you have reacted the same way brother had..? Am I whore for not being able to fight back.?” she questioned once more. She then clenched her teeth and slammed her head back against the tree. “Why the hell did you go after that woman?!” she yelled.

Unknown to her senses, a male spirit stood close behind her; staring at her with saddened amber eyes. So’unga glowed slightly as the female looked down, silver bangs covering her eyes. Blood dripped from So’unga, and soon gathered across the ground and surrounded the spirit. Akame soon looked up and looked over at the sword of hell. “What are you doing..?” she whispered. She slowly stood up and watched the blood trail and followed it, only to see the blood was surrounding nothing. At least nothing she could see.

She turned to the sword once more, stepped forward and wrapping her hand around the hilt. Slowly picking it up and looking at it. “That’s real blood... What the hell are doing- Ah!” she yelped. She dropped the sword and looked at her hand watching smoke rise from it. The scent of poison dripped from her. “How..?” she whispered. She quikcly jumped back overnight her nose and mouth letting out a strain of coughs. “Shit..” she mumbled. She quickly waved her hand allowing a black barrier to surround her.

Akame’s arm slowly fell from her face, her golden eyes wide, and her heart sped up. The barrier fell and the poison that came off of So’unga went straight towards her veins, only it didn’t burn her this time. “F-father..?” she whispered. Gold eyes met amber ones, her shorter form growing smaller as the tall daiyokai stood with slight confused look. Her lips parted to speak but nothing came out. Her frail body slowly fell back and she passed out, both from the poison but also the wound inflicted across her neck.

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ceescedasticity · 3 years

Text

SIgns chapter is coming along

Slowly working my way towards the colossal screaming fight...

By the time Barney stumbled down eight flights of stairs into the original part of the Stanton farmhouse, Mary, James, and Jane had dragged Will inside as far as the kitchen and gotten him propped in a chair. Will was soaking wet, and a trail of dark water led out of the kitchen to, he assumed, the porch in question.

Well… the puddles were too thin to be tar, anyway. Possibly not water, though.

James was trying to dry Will off with towels. Jane was trying to take Will's pulse at his wrist, which might have been easier if she hadn't been wearing rubber dishwashing gloves for some reason. Mary was standing off to the side, wearing a raincoat over probably pajamas, and clutching one of the pitchforks she used to hunt underlings.

He must have made some sort of sound, because a jolt of adrenaline later he was ducking under a swing from the pitchfork. "Hey, stop, it's me!" he said, as Jane and James looked up in surprise.

"What — Barney. Sorry," Mary said. "I thought you were an imp. What are you doing here?"

"I had a Prospit dream of Jane getting your call," Barney said. Still nothing of this actual scene, though. "You might want to call Simon and Bran now or they're likely to feel very left out."

"Like that will help," James muttered. He threw a black-stained towel off to the side and wrapped another one around Will's head, covering his hair. He was also wearing rubber dishwashing gloves. "I think it's off his face and neck, just mind the collar—"

Jane peeled off one of the dishwashing gloves and reached — very tentatively — to touch the side of Will's neck. She relaxed minutely after contact and started feeling for the pulse. "He's like ice…"

Hmm. "The gloves — are you trying not to touch the… water?"

"I don't think it's water," Mary said. "And yes, if you get it on your skin it makes you… see things." She shivered.

"Things?"

"Later," Jane said, straightening up. "I think we should try to warm him up. I'll call Bran and Simon. You three see if you can get Will in a hot bath — or at least out of those wet clothes." She handed Barney the dishwashing gloves and left the room. He wondered if she knew where the phone was.

James groaned. "I guess we'd better, if we can't touch his clothes without… whatever— Bloody wake up, Will!" Will didn't respond to the shaking.

"I'll start the bath and get some pajamas out of his room — or a robe," Mary said. "And patrol to make sure there aren't any imps around…"

Barney would have expected this to lead to an accusation of skiving off the hard work from James, but he just said, "And a bucket for the old clothes and the towels," and let her go.

"So just the two of us are supposed to be carrying him, then?" Barney asked. (Barney might — might — be more qualified to drag people around than Jane. He wouldn't make any such statement about Mary.)

James looked down. "She was really shaken up, by— She didn't know about the… water stuff when she found him, right? So she just tried to wake him up and check him over, and I'm not sure what she saw but she's barely holding together right now."

"Oh." Barney eyed the dark puddles on the floor.

"I mostly just remembered the winter of Will's bloody eleventh birthday, and then there was some — octopus thing with teeth. Then your sister thought of the rubber gloves." James scowled. "We might as well get his coat and shoes off here, they'll be even wetter than the rest."

It turned out to be difficult to untie waterlogged shoelaces while wearing rubber gloves; James announced he was getting the scissors. Barney got Will's coat unfastened and off, and looked around for some idea of where to put it—

The coat had… holes in it. Four in the front, three more in the back, like someone had just cut holes in the coat with scissors — or with a knife. A knife might be more likely.

Returning to the kitchen, James saw the coat and dropped the scissors. "Bloody hell, Will—"

Closer inspection revealed matching holes in Will's shirt, but unmarked skin beneath. Any stains on the fabric were covered over by the dark 'water'.

Will had healed from getting hit by a meteor, Jane had said.

"Bloody— Damn you, you just had to go off by yourself to bloody Derse—" James cursed his way through cutting Will's shoelaces and getting the shoes off. He threw them violently into a corner. "Just leave the coat here. Let's get him in the bath."

Barney was better than no help dragging Will to the bathroom, but he didn't think by much. Happily there was a bath on the ground floor. "Aren't there — did something happen to your dogs?"

"They're hiding," James said. "Crawled under Mary's bed right after Will fell through the porch roof and still won't come out."

"Oh."

"Through the porch roof, bloody hell, Will. You are the worst baby brother, no one gets to complain about me ever again—"

Will didn't react at all to James (possibly somewhat vindictively) cutting the rest of his clothes off, but he wasn't in the hot water a minute before he made a faint noise, and started shivering.

"Oh thank God," James said. "Will? Will, can you hear me?"

Will's head lolled forward, and he vomited black sludge into the bath. James and Barney both recoiled; James lost his balance and tipped over backwards off the stool he was sitting on, and almost cracked his head on the sink. Barney had to lunge forward to grab Will before he fell forward into the dirty water.

A splash hit his arm, above the glove, and.

And.

He'd already gotten most of it, he thought, from memory-gap-detection-plus-Skaia. He already had most of it. Just, here was the rest. Odd incidents they hadn't stumbled across yet. The part of the kidnapped-for-scrying incident he only knew from Simon's account, and what Simon hadn't had eyes to see.

A few realizations of his own, that he'd never much spoken of. (Merlin.)

…And also some images of… octopus things with teeth, in around the edges. That, too. Those were new.

Since he had remembered almost all of it before, it wasn't too hard to shake it off enough to keep from drowning Will in the bath. But it was still… It wasn't a nice way to get memories back.

<hr>

Making the phone calls had been partially an excuse to get herself out of the way while they got Will a bath, but Jane hadn't expected the calls to take very long — there wasn't much of an explanation to give, so it was really just notifying them so they could show up in person. (Which, yes, would almost certainly result in another fight, but everyone deserved to know.) Her plans went awry when Bran, her first call, never picked up the phone. She managed to avoid panicking, just — what if Bran had done something to bring Will back and make himself missing instead?! — and called Simon, who at least answered in a reasonable amount of time. Simon had to pass through the Land of Thrones and Meter as his first stop in the Gate-circuit anyway, and he promised to take his walkie-talkie and find Bran.

Which was a very reckless promise and he shouldn't have made it but, as it turned out, Bran was just hunting ogres — out of earshot from his phone, but within sight of his house, at least from second gate-elevation. Simon chased him down and yelled at him about going out underling-hunting without his walkie-talkie, and then told him about Will, and got left in the dust as Bran bolted back for the house.

Notifications taken care of, then.

She followed the sound of voices to a small ground-floor bedroom. Will looked — better, cleaned up, but he remained frighteningly pale and still. Mary was piling what looked like a third quilt on top of him. (Mary had found time to get dressed properly. Just as well.)

"Did you get lost?" Barney said, a little waspishly.

"No, Bran was out hunting ogres in the middle of the night for some reason so it took a while to get him."

"It's not exactly night—" Barney started.

The planets did sort of have day sides and night sides as they rotated, towards or away from Skaia, but nothing like real nights or days (two-thirds seemed to be in some sort of permanent twilight), and they were all out of sync with each other anyway. "Yes, I know, but we agreed to honor the clocks."

James muttered something which was probably "You agreed to honor the clocks".

"How is he?" Jane asked, rather than pursue that.

"You were right, the bath helped," Barney said. "He's warmer now, and he moved a little, but—"

"But he also started puking up this…" James screwed up his face. "This stuff—"

"Like the water on his clothes, but worse," Mary said.

"You— Mary, I warned you not to touch anything in the bathroom!"

"I didn't, I can just tell," Mary snapped back. "I think… I think it's a Derse thing. That I can tell, I mean."

Jane eyed Mary thoughtfully. "I guess we can ask Simon and Bran about it?"

"I don't know what Derse has to do with it, but I think Mary's right about it being a more… concentrated version of the other stuff," Barney said. "…What did you see, earlier?"

"Not a lot." Jane had been very careful, because by the time she arrived Mary and James had cautionary tales to share. "There was… a storm, mostly, I think? And something with a lot of eyes."

"Hmm," Barney said.

"What?"

"I don't want to explain it more than once."

"Is this a Space thing?" Mary asked.

"…Sort of." And then he wouldn't say anything else until Bran came crashing down the stairs like an avalanche in work boots, Simon chasing along in his wake.

"What's wrong with him?" Bran demanded, after barely a greeting.

"We don't know," Jane said, and then let Mary and James explain the porch roof and the dark water, only speaking up again at the end to say that her Hero-of-Life powers weren't providing any information on injuries.

"So far," Simon said optimistically.

"So far," Jane conceded, but her Hero-of-Life powers were only maybe sixty percent sure Will was alive, so she wasn't expecting much help from that direction.

"His coat and his shirt were cut up," James said. "Like— I don't know what like."

Like he'd been stabbed, and had healed, but hadn't been awake to fix his clothes, maybe?

"Look," Simon said. "Logically, being soaked in this weird water that makes people see things might knock him out, right? So now that he's dry and warm… give him a chance to wake up?"

#writing babble #crossover classpects

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Note

Please please! I would like a continuation of "Dragged"! It still hurts my heart terribly thinking of it!

This was fun to write because I forgot that there is a ton to this story I want to go more into. Continuation of Dragged Away.

Same warnings as Dragged Away apply here.

-o-o-o-o-

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is the cold seeping through his skin into his very core. The second thing is that his head is spinning even though he has yet to open his eyes.

And honestly, he'd like to keep his eyes shut, but when he shifts in an attempt to get warmer, something clinks and tugs at his left wrist, and his eyes shoot open without a second thought as everything comes back to him.

The running. The fear. The laughing. He remembers begging through a gag. He remembers being dragged. He remembers being dragged for so long he was barely even conscious enough to register them sitting him up and hitting up aside the head with the back handle of a blade.

He sucks in a panicked breath of air, scrambling to his feet, but he's yanked to a stop by something around his wrist, and he finds himself halfway bent staring down at his wrist and the metal cuff locked around it. There can't be more than a couple feet's length of chain connecting the cuff to a hook in the cold, stone floor below him. Not long enough for him to stand up properly, but enough for him to have some movement if he sits down.

A shiver wracks through his frame, his breath coming out in a short huff, and he realizes that he is still very, very cold even with the stomach dropping realization that he's restrained. He quickly looks at the rest of himself, and his stomach drops further when he realizes he's been truly stripped of all his belongings, nothing but his pair of trousers still rest on his body. His chest is bare, his feet are shoeless, his gauntlets and gloves are missing.

A noise behind him forces him to look up in the bent over, awkward position he's in, and face his surroundings. The room he finds himself in the center of is small, nothing but rough, carved stone meets his eyes. The only light that enters this prison cell—because it must be a prison cell—comes through a single metal door centered in one of the walls. There's a small, square opening hardly large enough to fit his head through with iron bars running up and down in it. It's this opening that caught his attention, the thing that made a noise, and as his eyes land on the door he meets the gaze of a white, emotionless mask watching him through the window.

Hyrule's heart jumps to his throat and he tries to scramble back as a bang of something unlocking meets his ears. The door begins to open and in walks familiar figures.

And not familiar in a good way.

He knows they're enemies. He knows because sometimes one will pop up randomly while the group is traveling and Wild won't hesitate to draw his sword and battle. He's never went into detail about them, saying they're no more powerful than a red bokoblin. They're just confused traitors to the throne, cocky dimwits who they needn't worry about.

Well, Hyrule is worrying.

They don't look like people, even though Wild has mentioned at some point or another that they are. They look like imps, mischievous creatures with long, spindly, red limbs and pure white masks with a single eye drawn on to hide whatever hideous face they have beneath. It's almost impossible to imagine any person to be his enemy. He comes from a time where things are so bad that people are forced to unite together and monsters are the only true evil.

He wonders what happened to these people in Wild's era to make them so… malicious.

The chain hardly allows him to take a single step back as the ill willed group shuffles into the cell. There's five of them, all of them lean and muscular, each with a sword, bow, or scythe equipped. They're chuckling to themselves, like they've already won, and something red fills the corners of Hyrule's vision. So much so, that he doesn't hesitate to lash out when one gets to close. He punches with his free hand, though with the awkward angle his body is bent at and the numbness in his limbs from being so cold for so long, the attack doesn't even phase his target.

His punch misses, and immediately he's breathless as he finds his legs kicked from below him, knocking him down roughly onto his back. He tries to suck in a breath of air, but a hand wraps itself in his hair and drags him painfully to his knees. The hand stays in his hair, forcing his head down, and it's all Hyrule can do to lift his own hands and grasp at the offending one tugging at his locks.

"It's a wonder that you're so special," a voice says above him. Hyrule can't find his voice to speak back, so he clamps his jaw shut and closes his eyes, knowing he is completely powerless. "Look at you, healing like a loyal dog. Heroes aren't made like they used to be."

The hand tightens in his hair and Hyrule tries to pry the fingers away, but his wrists are grabbed and tugged away from his head by another pair of hands. He tries to struggle, he really, truly tries to, but something even colder than the stone cell wraps around his neck, a curved blade perfect for slitting throats; he pathetically stills.

"I don't know what makes you so special," the voice above him says, and Hyrule almost agrees. He's not special. He's really not. He hardly deserves the title of Hero. The name Link. He hardly deserves to share the spirit of such great boys and men. "But I suppose that doesn't matter. We were informed that if we spill your blood under the light of a red moon, Calamity Ganon will rise again."

Finally, the hand is removed from his hair, but almost immediately his chin is grasped and Hyrule's head is forced to look up. His eyes open in fear. He's face to face with the mask, ever so more intimidating up close.

His captor doesn't say anything now. Just tilts Hyrule's face back and forth like he's looking for something, and a disappointed sigh reaches Hyrule's ears just before his face and hands are released. The sickle leaves his neck and Hyrule is left kneeling, his hands falling to the stone ground and splaying to keep him upright as he gasps. His heart feels like war drum, though war is a bit too brave for him.

"Look at you," the leader says, a sneer in his voice, "pathetic. You're nothing like the hero from our time. To think, the one who's blood we need to pull this off is also the weakest. No matter, our observers predict the blood moon to arrive in six days, it's just a shame you haven't put up much of a fight."

Hyrule squeezes his fists, staring at the back of his hands. His useless hands. His eyes drift to the left one, not because of the chain but because of the uninterrupted skin there. The Triforce is in him. One of his deepest secrets, one he won't even tell the others, but for now it lays dormant. Useless to him now. He has no control over it, and if it wanted to be seen, if it wanted to help him, it would show itself there.

He's completely alone.

Once again, he's reduced to a thing to be sacrificed. A thing to be slaughtered, and this time, he can't help but feel like there's nothing he can do about it.

He hardly even notices that his captors left the cell, and he's only made aware of it when the sound of the metal door clanging shut followed by a locking click meets his ears. His body trembles, and he's not sure if it's from the cold or the creeping despair sinking its fangs into his jugular.

He crumples down, curling up as much as the chain will allow, and wonders if the others have even noticed he's missing.

#jin writes #ask #linked universe #fan fic #hero of hyrule #liccy #drabble fic

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cupsofsuga · 5 years

Note

ot7 yandere meeting your parents and your parents not liking them💘💫

BLOODLINE ━ YANDERE BTS REACTION*:･。.

WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers. I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

Thank you for requesting, angel!

KIM SEOKJIN

━━━ You and Jin have known each other for your whole lives, never spent a moment without each other. You often reminisce of the times where you’d both ride your bikes through town together or spend nights under a fort you two created, trying your best to hush your own laughter in fear of waking up a parent. The innocence of your childhood was what you missed and now that you’ve grown into a teen, the atmosphere and neglect of childlike joy are now tangible. That’s where Jin comes in, like some sort of superhero wearing a cape with a cheesy slogan. He is there to heal the scorching sensation in your heart and to fight off the sorrows that dared to linger in your head. Upon seeing this newfound connection, your parents didn’t favor the idea of you spending time with that certain boy the called “trouble”.

No worries, though. You’re a teenager, you use bitter lies like it’s your very own sword. You crouched and climbed through each other’s windows during nightfall acting like inmates when all you really were was lovers. Hushed laughter turned to quiet whispers to avoid getting caught, and Jin hated acting like this infatuation was supposed to be kept at secrecy. How could they act like loving somebody was such a crime? How can they take away this soul he needs in his life in such a vicious manner? Those were questions that quickly vanished when you two would go elsewhere than each other’s rooms, finding an open woodland space and trying to remember the names of constellations or to gas stations at 4 am just to laugh as you did years ago. Spending even just a few seconds in your arms is what makes his anger subside and he can feel pure again.

These moments with you feel like they’re eternal, even though they’re spent in the dead of night, scared of the eyes of your parents. You both are 17, which means 1 more year until he can scoop you into his arms and escape this deadbeat town. Whatever the future had planned for him, he won’t care about a thing as long as he gets to spend the rest of his days with you by his side.

“I know we’re only just kids, but, God, Y/N… I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you…”

MIN YOONGI

━━━ The two of you eat in bitter silence. Your mother, once again, shared her much-unneeded opinion about him. She insulted him, mocking him of his weight and claiming he couldn’t defend you in any way. It angered you, severely, and you held a tight grip on your fork to hold yourself back from exploding at her. Seconds of silence go by, ticking away like the deafening echo of a clock. But then, under the dinner the table, you feel a tenacious grip on your hand. Yoongi holds and squeezes onto your palm like he is about to be devoured by the darkness of our galaxy and he clings onto a single star for dear life. He holds onto you like you’re a lifeline and without your touch, he’d die in the most miserable, violent way possible.

Her comments hurt him and he couldn’t defend himself with his poor, weak fists. Her few words made him feel small, defenseless, like a small bunny rabbit against an entire pack of hungry wolves. Tears build up as the insecurities scatter his mind like the raindrops of a heavy storm. Yoongi starts to shake and tremble, trying to hold these inevitable tears back and not let his emotions go rampant at the dinner table, which already had a disastrous mood that lingered around everyone. Luckily, you noticed, tightening your grip on his hand (if that was even humanly possible anymore) and walking straight out of the house, not without a cold “fuck you” directed to your mother.

His tears flow out like a goddamn waterfall down his cheeks. Down, down, down they go as his choked sobs fill the midnight air. Such a melancholic time to be in. The embers of the sun cannot bring warmth to Yoongi’s soul, anymore, and he must cry in the saturated light of the moon. The idea gives off pandemonium of sorrows, but then you come. Your arms are locked tightly around his petite figure, letting him shake with sobs in your grasp as you coo and reassure him that her cruel words don’t mean a thing. But then, there it is. There’s the sun, he can feel the warmth on his face. Yoongi can feel the seraphic scintillation of sunbeams embrace and kiss him softly. And although there is no sun, only the moon, that won’t take away the serenity of this moment.

“Please, please, please… Don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go… Please…”

JUNG HOSEOK

━━━ Phantoms of unheard ghost lie in your heavy heart. Their insults towards your lover hurt like stab wounds and come like bullets. Every second circling around Hoseok is golden and eternal and you question about your parent’s blindness to his pure aura. He is so, so very joyful resting in the wrath of your presence that it turns physical. It twists and turns his heart in such a pleasurable matter that their heavy, bitter words don’t even give him the slightest of bruises. Like a perceptible weight of seraph that weighs down gently on his chest. Like the freedom of summer, or like a solemn melody that reverberates blissfully in your head. Entirely single fleeting moments spent in utter enchantment, where worries fail to exist.

Every second spent with you is the exact moment where the noose nestled on his neck breaks loose and he can breathe.

Hoseok feels with his heart instead of his fingertips. He cries tears of mercury instead of water. He smiles with the beams of the moon instead of the sun. He is an inhuman creature, an angel or a siren of some sort. Many were quick to fall under his magic way of seething joy, but they never mattered, only you do. That’s all he ever desired, after all, was your affections intended solely for him and him only. So, when your parents mocked and insulted him of being too soft and sensitive, he was quick to brush them off. It’s ok. He doesn’t care about them at all. Only your opinion mattered, anyway, and he’ll do anything to validate and lionize whatever thought crossed your mind.

“It’s ok, Y/N… I only care about you and you only… Please don’t let their words get to you. It hurts me to see you in pain…”

KIM NAMJOON

━━━ You spend your days drinking moonlight straight from the glass and bathing in fields-worth of flower petals. You wear the earth on your body, sleep in river streams and taste of the brightest stars. You may be a witch, you may be a God, or you could just be Y/N. Y/N. A name that has the void in his chest filled to the brim with galaxies, planets and the light of a billion stars. A name that is the only cure to heal his shattered and bruised heart. A name that is said with the blood of holy gods but with the softness of a goddesses touch. The name that is equivalent to a lullaby and is sung from the angels that dance and sing within his own heart.

But… what’s this? You parents have failed to see his love for you…? How could this be? Namjoon has shown nothing but pure, loyal devotion for you and they see him as nothing but some stupid imp!? That can’t be, it won’t be! He wouldn’t let this become a reality!

Namjoon becomes suffocating and intolerant, but he is desperate in times like this. You reassure him your parent’s opinions surely doesn’t make your love for him differ in the slightest and as much as he listens and cherishes every syllable that leaves your lips, those words don’t affect him in the slightest. He bombards your parents with flowers, foods and any gift he could possibly think of. As much as it harms his soul, he tries to ignore their stares of hatred and whispers of gossip. It hurts, but that won’t stop him. Namjoon will do anything to prove to them that he is a good man and is completely worthy of spending the rest of time with their child. Anything.

“I know they don’t matter to you, but, how can they think of me like that? That I’m just some idiotic hellion that only sees you as some sort of toy!? I see you as my entire world, Y/N, and I need them to see that, too… I don’t want anyone to ever think you mean nothing to me…”

PARK JIMIN

━━━ Lover’s Spit is playing, mixed in with the white noise of passing automobiles and tires against the road. It’s a cloudy day when you and Jimin finally pack up and return home from your parent”s house, and Jimin was more than ready to be safe and alone with you. He feels envy; envy for the unforeseen heaven you’ve found in this place rather than finding it within him. You loved being back at home, he can see it in your eyes. It’s like the most beautiful explosion of diamonds and pearls across the nebulous, velvet-touched sky. And as he stares out of the window, groggily watching the trees and cars pass by and music echoing in his head, he feels resent.

“Everything ok, love?” The heavy bass seems to dim down and all he can hear is your voice and feel your sweet attention finally on him. Like an angel’s kiss on a fresh, moggy spring morning, he can finally feel your affections intended solely for him. But when Jimin finally forwards his stare from out of the window to your pretty face, you see a look so heart-shattering that even the clouds start to disintegrate.

Such a devastating look he gives you. Lips trembling, tears clinging onto his lashes like broken shards of diamonds. His features look as if they were chiseled in marble and placed somewhere in Rome. So pure, so beautiful, so melancholically dreamlike. There’s sorrow buried deep in his heart and you’re aching to find out what caused this.

“Y/N… I-I know you love them, but, please… Please don’t leave me… I couldn’t survive without you. Just… Just tell me you love me. It’s all I need to hear right now…”

KIM TAEHYUNG

━━━ Taehyung gulps the glass in front of him like it’s holy water and he’s desperate to be purified of his sins. Their stares linger far too long and he can’t help but wonder, do they know about his vicious infatuation? Do they see him when he lurks outside your window to simply admire the art before him? He now holds shame in his heart, and it burns. At first, your parents were ambivalent about him. But now, it was clear of their feelings for him. They despised him. He followed stars and planets to try and shift and shape their opinions about them, but nothing worked. Through courage, kindness, loyalty, truth, and gratitude, he was left with bitter, eternal disgrace.

There’s a sudden grip on his wrist. Tight, but comforting in this matter. Oh, there you are.

Taehyung suddenly feels delicate, soft, cherubic, in a way. Spring days and the kisses of the moon resting in the crevice of his heart. Dahlias, lilies, tulips, and marigolds begin to fill and flutter within his chest, a sudden warmth nuzzling through his body like the sunbeams embracing his skin on a July afternoon. Taehyung can finally feel so loved and safe with your touch on him. Even though this silence belittles and mocks him, there are worlds forming in his heart. And for now, the light of your love is all he needs.

“Y/N, you are such a gift… A gift that won’t stop giving. Please… Never stop loving me. I don’t know how I’d live without your love…”

JEON JUNGKOOK

━━━ Jungkook can see his reflection in the glimmer of the plate in front of him and has an utter hatred for what he sees. Too possessive, too soft, too emotional, too jealous, too sensitive. His hands start to shiver, his knees ache and his lip quivers. Were all those harsh words true? Could it be possible you felt the same way as well!? This voice inside his head is chanting “calm down!” like it’s some sort of magic spell and he’s trying to summon the dead. But, his plans fail and Jungkook can’t seem to bring a halt to these worries. He begins to hyperventilate as he sinks into himself. “How could you love someone like him?”, they ask. But, really, how could you?

He is nothing but some socially anxious kid who is trying with every weak bone in his body to prove his devotion to the human he loves with the worth of the entire galaxy. You’re a god, and he’s nothing but some filthy hellion that is desperate for your affections. You were born made of shattered stars with a big chunk of the moon that rests in your heart, he was given nothing but thin skin and a glass soul. You are the moon, a light in the darkness that shares its own wrath of eternal peace and beauty. Jungkook is the sun, so overwhelming and so utterly there, and god, does he hate it. But before this epiphany eats him whole, you drag him from the dining room and into your childhood bedroom to try and soothe him of his sorrows.

You shush him when he starts to cry, holding his head with your palms like you have an entire planet in your hands. You wipe his tears and whisper words of reassurance, telling him that he is completely perfect just as he is and how he shouldn’t let their blasphemous words dominate him. And although his insecurities crafted by your parents have now taken a toll on him, your touch and your love heals him, so now he can inhale the scent of summer and exhale the dust of your affections.

“Thank you… Thank you, thank you, thank you… I-I-I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but, fuck… I’m so goddamn thankful to be yours…”

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blade-king-luze · 4 years

Text

“The Knight and His Faithful Steed”, Part 1 - Torn

(OOC: First of the three part story on how Luze obtained his summon, Diomedes the Severer of the Dark. This is obviously non-canon that I want to make canon as the beast he summons is actually from Bayonetta 2. But would it be cool to summon a beast that matches his title, The Blade King? Imagine him riding on that demonic steed to battle. Or maybe using Diomedes gargantuan size, the same size as Dragon Sodom, to cut a path for him. Luze would seriously be personifying a knight in shining armor upon a steed. WARNING: Mild gore description) Feat. Reiga Giou (Fowler)

🎵 - (Music to read through this)

Having heard that his brother, Luka, summoned his black dragon to be use in this recent battle, Luze could not sit idly as the news did not bode well with him. Dragons are ancient creatures. More ancient than Duras and Opasts alike, but not as ancient as Gods and Lords who ruled both Infernus and Sanctum. They are feared by many as they would demolish any in their way and cause immense amounts of destruction with their judgement.

A lesser Duras messenger had sent word to Reiga of a dragon that eliminated their ranks in just one fell swoop. A dragon belonging to the Bloody Cross, the traitor of the Crosszeria and the Duras clan. Luze, unsettled by this matter, one day approached his master. He decided the only way to repel his brother’s dragon was to summon a Greater Duras at his side that would be on par against such a beast.

After all, Luze did learn necromancy, or White Magic, from Reiga. But The Blade King must do something more than just White Magic to protect those he deems important. If it comes down to try and summon a Greater Duras at a cost of injury or worse, so be it. He would not want anyone he knew to burn in flames in front of him again.

Tread on a dangerous path with Luze and venture through his trials of attempting to summon a faithful Greater Duras at his side. Only to have obstacles get in his way such as his PTSD from his past battles and torturous screams echoing through his ears.

An unsettling air whirled around Fowler and I as we walked down the halls to go where our conferences were held. I walked at a steady pace behind Fowler as he walked a little bit faster than he would normally do. I felt something was greatly amiss but I did not want to stop and ask.

The Zweilts were already on the move and we had no time to discuss the matter in the middle of these halls. He had already sent word to the other Opasts to appear before him inside the conference room and as always, we were all prepared for the worst ... Or so I had thought.

“... Any signs of the Lesser Duras I had sent out, Luze?” He said without even halting for a second and kept walking. I hesitated as I continued to follow. “I am afraid not ...” I looked down. “The Lesser Duras that you sent out were completely gone from my senses. Once they were summoned, it wasn’t a moment later that they suddenly disappeared from my trace.” “Is that so ...” I saw Fowler’s hand twitched for a second but also trying to relax. “To believe the army I had just sent out was gone in such an instant ...” “I am also confused about that myself ...” I wondered.

Suddenly, I heard small beating of wings. I turn around as I was about to summon my blade. However with my senses, I was able to make out that it was a Duras. It turned out to be a Lesser Duras messenger. A bat-like imp came flying a little rampant to the point where I would wonder if it were to hit a window and fly out accidentally. It came to steady itself in front of us and also attempting to catch its small breath. “What is it that you have for us?” Fowler said sternly. The imp spoke in Abyssal as I translated for Fowler to understand more easily and quicker. The little one spoke.

My eyes were stern as they widened a little slightly. I spoke back to it in Abyssal.

Fowler listened as he looked to me. I continued as I turned to Fowler, this time in his language. However I felt an uneasiness surged within my heart. “The messenger stated that ‘a dragon was summoned by an Opast so powerful’ ...” And I could only think of one sole person to have that kind of beast ...

Fowler looked to me with eyes as if surprised but with anger. He and I perhaps thought of the same person who would wield a dragon.

An Opast of all Duras. My brother. Luka Crosszeria.

I had remembered hearing news that my brother had halted two dragons from causing an uproar within Niflheim during my days before I became a 1st class General Opast. I had thought of it as great news for him to go through such a feat considering so many losses he had endured. But also thinking that he made a pact with one of the dragons which would create an advantage whenever he would be put on the front lines. But now, the tides turned against us. Instead of feeling confident that my brother had the strength for Infernus, it was now a downfall against us to our ranks and our moral. The Zweilts have the upper hand cards dealt while ours would fumble.

Fowler turned to the Imp and waved a hand gently for it to disappear out of his sight. He was silent for a moment, not caring now if we were to attend the meeting with the other Opasts. “Let me guess ...” His back turned to me. “It was Luka Crosszeria, The Bloody Cross. He’s at it again ...” “I’m afraid so ...” I hesitated as I felt his anger rise up along with mine. At this time, I did not know what to say but feel unsettled. If my brother were to summon that blasted dragon once more, it would be the end of us all. Dragons are feared no matter how our ranks may surpass others. They are ancient. More ancient than us Duras. Even the Celestials would quake in their judgement as well. They are well respected beasts and if stirred to their might and wrath, one would first witness their flames before they fall.

... And I would not want to relive that moment in time again. I looked down.

“If it so happens that we have to go against the Bloody Cross in the front lines, then so be it ...” Fowler said as he clenched his fists. “ Let that dragon be summoned. He’s not the only one who can summon a terrifying beast such as a mere dragon ...”

I looked towards Fowler as if what he is saying would mean to throw his life away in the front lines. Even though he didn’t mean such a thing, I still couldn’t resist thinking that he would. My eyes were stern. He was the reckless type towards those he hates. And sometimes arrogance will get him sooner or later. It is fortunate that he has someone to keep his mind intact because I will never let him fall that quickly. And I will not allow that to happen to him ever, after what he has done for me. There has to be a way ... I can’t let this happen again as well. If it comes to this, then fine. I will make this even against my brother. I will not let his own cards be dealt any further. I looked up and suddenly took a step forward. “Then I can as well.” Fowler turned slightly to look at me, surprised. “... Luze?” “If you would have me, that is.” I felt as if I couldn’t stop from what I was saying when my mind would not calm down. “I want to learn how to summon a Greater Duras at my side. I can’t just sit idly while my brother can now wreck havoc to our ranks. A Greater Duras or any monstrous beast, it doesn’t matter. As long as it can go against a dragon. If I were to go against my brother in the front lines as a Zess Crosszeria as well, then I would rather be more prepared to face him head on with both of our Greater Beings.”

Fowler blinked a couple of times but look to me sternly. His face displayed a hint of concern behind it. “You do realize what you’re saying, do you?” I looked back at him, unwavering. He continued. “To summon a Greater Duras or any other Greater Being takes a whole mental prowess to pursue such a task. However, that doesn’t mean I have any doubts on you, Luze. But for someone who was not first born as a Necromancer will suffer countless of fatal occurrences. I am afraid I will not let you do that just yet. We still have yet enough time ...”

“That will not hinder me.” I said suddenly. My gaze still kept intact. My hands curled into fists “I am not about to see what happens again during my life as a soldier. If that dragon appears right in front of us this time, I will not want to risk anymore lives be taken away in front of me ever again ... I will gladly accept your offer if you will, Fowler. You have taught me ways to help many who are unfortunate to heal their wounds. But I need something far more greater to go against my brother when that day comes ... And if it means that I will have to suffer through the trial, then let it come onto me from what I am about to risk my life for. Although you may be correct that we may have enough time, but judging how the circumstances are right now, there is no coating it in a pleasant way saying that we do. All I can say to counter this, is that time is now of the essence unfortunately. We must act.”

Fowler was confused as I mentioned about a horrid day that I wish to never relive without any context. But he understood as soon as I mentioned about being a soldier. They experience more losses than any other who had lived or died. However, he did not seem satisfied as I mentioned about risking my life for a greater cause as I have with him supposedly saying the same thing. By now, he should know when I will be up for a task that involves my own.

Fowler pondered for a moment as he looked down. His eyes were hidden as I still kept my determination on the line. I saw his lips slightly tightened as he loosened his fists and let his hands settled to his side. Perhaps time wasn’t on our side anymore. Not after hearing this grave news.

He then turned around and gazed at me. “... Very well.” He finally answered. His voice sounding ever so hesitant. “Since you already know the risks that Necromancers have to face ... Then allow me to bestow you the power to summon a Greater Being at your side. But heed my warning, Luze. This is of no easy task especially from a Duras like you who have some but few necromancy abilities. It will prove far more greater than just learning White Magic. If anything were to happen to you, who knows what will occur with a Greater Being in front of you or not. If all would fail, I will have to forbid you to do anything of the sort then, ... if It would not cause any fatalities beforehand that is.” His voice seemed to tremble at the thought.

My gazed lightened as he approved however. I nodded as I understood what the risks would intend. I gave a slight bow and placed a hand on my heart as I felt relieved. But my hand felt my now nerve wracking heart suddenly beating unsteadily. “... You have my word, Lord Reiga.” Fowler looked at me with a solemn face. Whether he regretted the decision to let me learn a dangerous spell right away or something, it seemed like it was a grand mistake to let me know necromancy.

“Let us proceed to meet with the others then. They are all waiting by now. After that, we will get straight to it.” He turned to walk towards the conference room. I followed. I wanted to say something more to him, but it would be futile at this point. My mind has been made up and I will not turn back on what lies ahead of me.

Fowler, forgive me for my brashness. I could only show you my silence as we continue on towards what will befall us. But mark my words when I say I will do anything in my power to protect those I hold dear.

I will not falter.

---

The grand dark room, the size of a ballroom, was lit with candelabras and chandeliers which made the room dim but glowed with its orange flame glows. It was enough space to fit a Greater Duras. If evoked successfully.

Chants of Enochian can be heard from me as I had a levitating tome in front of me. I maintained my focus while I closed my eyes and my hands in front of me as if I was reciting a prayer. The aura of green runes appeared before me making the room glow with the mix of the orange candle flames. Fowler paced back and forth with his arms behind his back, keeping an eye on me whenever things go wrong. He could tell that he felt nervous as I am right now. But I made sure I kept my mind intact.

“Focus, Luze ...” I heard him say. The sound of his voice actually helped me calm myself and I was relieved he was here with no one around to disturb us. “Think of a Being that suits you. Something that represents what you truly desire. Something that will make you grasp onto a path you will take along with that Being. That Being will be your sole companion for the rest of your life. They will either defy you or choose you as your worthy master. You must overcome their trials one way or another to conquer them. Your choice is yours ...”

A Being of my interests based on my desires ...

Freedom. Escape. Protector. Devotion. Being wanted.

I continued to chant in Enochian. My mind suddenly felt clarity through what he had said along with the words I have thought of. Just then, I suddenly saw something dark appear before me in my head. It swirled in my mind as I kept chanting. As if some kind of black smoke was trying to swallow me up and bring me to a literal Abyss. Was this ... A dream? I opened my eyes slowly. But it wasn’t my real eyes from my real body. But more of a cross dimensional realm inside my head where I appeared out of nowhere. What I saw and what lies in front of me was a desolated land. I felt my spectral body walk forward, nothing was ahead of me for a great amount of time, empty as the real Abyss was imagined to be from other Duras.

I recalled the words that Fowler had said. I recalled my words that came up. Something that I desire. A Being that will stay with me for the rest of my life. A loyal companion that will be my strength towards a path I chose. I stepped more forward, walking. Something glowed beneath my feet. I looked down as I kept pacing forward.

Pyreflies build up from each step I take. They swirled around me. Then after a few moments, half of them flew in front of me. Some flew further, some stayed behind. But as some of the few that flew forward came to a certain spot way out in front of me, I stopped on my tracks. They clustered in one huge group creating a small but large white wisp in the middle of them as they circled around a form of some kind of light cloud. I look towards it waiting for something to emerge. Pyreflies are like fireflies within the Hume realm from what Fowler had told me. But they weren’t insects like them. They are more of wisps that spawn from the deceased Lesser Duras and create entities and illusions that would fool our minds. Such is the way of living in Infernus if one has the wits to not fall for their trap to their unfortunate doom. Ironically, I feel like I am on the verge of that path.

The white cloud slowly formed into a creature. A creature that was on all fours. Was it a Duras? No, it seemed more normal than the distorted or hideous Lesser Duras. It looked like an animal. I walked forward. The height of this creature was almost as tall as me, if not, taller. One of the hooves grazed the ground while its head bowed then looked towards me. It shook his head.

A horse ... They were like the demonic Night Mares roaming around the grounds of Infernus. But this did not look grotesque as them. It was as normal as a horse can be within The Surface. Beautiful, proud. Full of freedom.

I reached towards it with my hand slowly. As I was close to reaching its face, the horse suddenly slowly turned around and started to walk away. I pulled my hand away. Do I follow it? It kept walking away as I felt my feet move on its own following behind it. The horse started to pick up speed as it trotted. I felt myself picking up the pace, running. It picked up speed more faster and faster. Why was I still following it? I ran to it as it kept going further and further. I felt desperate trying to keep up with it but it was no use. I saw my hand reach out to it as it kept running further within the black abyss, barely visible now. “Wait!” I had said as I reached a hand outward as if trying to grasp it.

Suddenly, the horse disappeared as I put my hand down from my peripheral vision. I stood still. The air suddenly grew hot. Hotter than what I imagined. What was once white pyreflies that swarm around me were red and orange embers.

And then ... Screams. Piercing as they can be like silver arrows that shot through my chest. My eyes shot widely as I looked around frantically. No ... This is ... It can’t be ...

The desolated land was now engulfed in hellfire. Flames build high as castle walls that blocked my way. Just like that fateful day ... Screams still persisted from the left and right of me. My heart started to beat faster as the air stifled me. My mouth agape as I tried to breathe for air from the immense heat. I had no where to run.

Something tried to grab at my ankle. I reeled back attempting to summon my blade, only to forget that this was from my mind. None of this was real. It can’t be real, or so I said to myself.

Yet, this same event occurred during my time. A time where I want to forget completely. From the horror of witnessing my comrades burn down right in front of me.

The creature that tried to grab me was crawling towards me. It was in agony. A burnt corpse desperately trying to reach and plead for help. I backed off a few paces as it disintegrated into pyreflies. This was just an illusion ... This is all not real. This was just a figment of my imaginations. But was it truly an imagination? My eyes were still wide from shock.

Suddenly, I felt an excruciating sharp pain from my back. I did not hear myself screaming in pain as I tried to grab and hold back the pain. My arms crossing on my chest as I clenched tightly on my shoulders. I kneeled down from the pain overcoming me, crawling on my back. I clenched my teeth tighter and tighter as if they would make my jaw bleed. I shut my eyes very tight to get away from this nightmare.

My back felt like something was trying to protrude from inside. I tried every attempt to hold back whatever it was but with the pain persisting and growing each and every second, I could not no more.

I gave in. I yelled from the top of my lungs as I reared back to face the burning skies. A yell so horrid, one would think it was a primordial scream. My eyes, fully white from my silhouette along with my white fangs bare. Black wings sprouted from my back. Blood splattered from my back as I attempted too much to hold them back from unfurling.

The world started to distort around me. It broke into shattered glass and whirled within my head until I couldn’t make out what was ahead of me. It spun faster and faster until I suddenly came to my senses now back into reality.

My eyes shot wide as the tome fell down but the spell repelled back at me. It was too great for me to react that it struck at my arms. I did not have time to react at all as I felt my skin being torn apart. I yelled in pain as I recoiled a few steps back. Blood splattered to the ground in front of me instead of behind me from my back. Albeit, this time it was real.

“Luze!!” I heard Fowler yelling to me and ran towards me frantically. I kneeled down in such pain and agony, I gritted my teeth. It was hard to grasp for air from the sudden strike. I hid my arms underneath me as I bent over to the point where my face would almost touch the ground. I took heavy breaths. “Luze! Are you alright?!” He said as he kneeled by me. He placed a hand on my back as he felt me heaving for air and whimpered. His other hand was placed on my shoulder. With my weak strength, I barely sat up straight, still a little hunched over as I was trying to reveal and observe my shaken arms. They greatly trembled as Fowler looked at them shocked.

My arms were torn severely. But not too severely where my arms would dislocate. I thanked the Lord of Infernus that all of my fingers were still intact. However, my fore arms suffered a devastating blow. Cuts, slashes, and gashes appeared. I was now sweating beads at how much it hurts as I barely opened my eyes to see. My arms were mostly red, seeping through my torn uniform sleeves. My outer skin layer was ripped and peeled. My arm muscles were cut deep as if a blade slashed through its tissues. I could see my tendons barely visible and a couple of my veins were torn.

“I ... I could still keep going ...” My voice was trembling as I huffed for air. “I need to ... Keep going.” “That’s enough!” Fowler said shaking me slightly as his hand on my shoulder gripped. I heard his voice go quieter. “That’s enough ... Please ...” I hesitated. Still, with my glare glazed. “You must recover your wounds immediately. Go to your quarters for now ... I will handle everything here. I won’t be far behind you to help and heal your wounds ... However ... I will have to forbid you to do such a thing as this again ...”

I did not bother to reply back from my frustrations. With my remaining strength from my weariness, I tried to stand back up without using my arms that were still in front of me, now pressed against me. Fowler aided me as he grabbed my arm while his other remained on my back and hoisted me up. I staggered as I attempt to fix my posture but with the pain in the way, it hindered me too greatly. It took some time for me to finally gain my posture and barely stood straight.

I walked away slowly stumbling as Fowler let go of me steadily. I trembled slightly and kept forward. I was still struggling for air. I felt my wounds slowly begin to recover from being a Duras thankfully with slow regeneration. But it wasn’t quick enough for my blood to still pour out.

Fowler kept his gaze focused on me as I continued to walk away. His face was full of regret after what had occurred. It was just like what he had stated that would happen. Yet, I kept going with it. But having witness something like that in front of him. To see someone close to him risking their lives only to injure themselves greatly. Only to walk away, defeated and perplexed.

“Luze ...” He said to himself as I was now halfway deep barely visible within the corridor. “Whatever it is that was in your mind, you must be strong. You mustn't let those events deter you. You must hold fast for those you fight for. Though your heart may be heavy after those events ... Even seeing your brother for the first time in such a long while, only to be looked down upon, know that there are those who would hold onto you to keep you up whenever you fall ...

I will not let you falter ...”

Part 2

#Unheard Words #OOC: If I were to type in Abyssal later in my stories QQ I will try to find a different format than just cheesy copy and paste image sa;dlkf #Dearest Leader #Luze #Luze Crosszeria #Uraboku #uragiri wa boku no namae wo shitteiru #Betrayal Knows my Name #Reiga #Reiga Giou #Kanata #Kanata Wakamiya

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eirian-houpe · 4 years

Text

Scattered - Chapter 7

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Alex (OC)

Additional Tags: AU, Curse gone wrong, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cruelty, Abuse, Triggers, Eventual Smut, Romance, Character Death, Gaston is evil, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform

Summary: Casting a spell, any spell - at least the ones that involve more than just the wave of a hand, or worse, the wave of an irritating fairy’s wand - takes time, and patience, and the right ingredients, and… just like any recipe, if you get it wrong, it doesn’t mean the cake won’t cook, rather then will, just with unexpected or unintended outcomes. All of Rumplestiltskin’s careful planning and manipulation, all of his hopes and dreams turn to dust; ashes in his bitter heart in the blink of an eye… in the fall of an equine heart. Belle exchanges one terrible prison for another, and it’s one she is desperate to escape, and though Rumple’s fate as The Savior was severed from him centuries ago, sometimes fate itself has a way of finding an alternate route home.

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

Chapter 7 - ...Always Comes With A Price

Jefferson refused to move as Regina tried to stare him down. They’d been here before… almost this same, precise showdown, and with the same leverage. Grace.

The last time hadn’t ended well, in fact it was instrumental in his separation from Grace now and he wasn’t about to repeat his own stupid mistakes, not where Regina was concerned.

“No,” he said, sounding almost convincing. So for good measure he added, “Absolutely not.”

Regina simply stared at him, her eyes hard, her gaze calculating and he could almost read the formulation of further threats that were - he had no doubt of it - going through her head at that moment. He fidgeted, tugging at his jacket, and just as he felt himself starting to falter, the thought of his daughter - lost to him in this cursed world - almost shattering his resolve, he had a realization, and snapped, “Besides, it’s moot, and you know it. There’s no magic in this world, ergo, my hat won’t work.” He straightened up then, feeling a flush of satisfaction at Regina’s expression of distaste, so added, with no small amount of satisfaction, “Face it, your majesty, you’re screwed.”

The expression of distaste turned to one of amusement, and then smugness as she began to tsk softly, and came out from behind the desk, waving her finger at him like a ticking metronome.

“Oh, ye of little faith, Jefferson,” she said. “Did you honestly think I would bring myself to a world such as this one, without some kind of… contingency plan?”

Jefferson groaned. He might have known. He should have known, but an act of desperation had him blurt out, “If you use all your magic to power the hat, what will you have left to summon him even if I can get you the dagger?” He followed her as she paced across the room and he continued. “You know even that can’t work across realms.”

“Unless there’s already an open portal - yes, yes, I know.” She sounded bored.

“You prepared for something like this, didn’t you?” he said, accusing and incredulous.

“Oh, p-lease,” she scoffed, “you think I’d ever trust that twisted little imp?”

“So what happens now?” Belle asked as she finally pulled away from his embrace. She felt somehow cold without his arms around her, in spite of the still too recent assault. She felt safe in his arms.

“What happens now,” he said, his voice almost a strange kind of sing-song tone, “is that you stay here, under my protection, until you’re healed - until you’re well.”

“But,” she began, not even sure how to formulate what she was even trying to ask. “But… my people…? My father!” her stomach twisted into knots. When her father heard that she was missing, it could kill him… if Gaston even bothered to tell him, though she thought Gaston might instead tell a storybook full of lies that would be just as hurtful. She truly feared for her father in his condition.

“Belle…” Rascende tried to interrupt, but she wouldn’t let him; couldn’t.

“My father is sick. Very sick,” she said, reaching out to grasp one of his hands in near desperation. “If he hears of this, of anything, it could steal away his will to get well again; to live.” She felt her hands tremble against the warmth of Rascende’s. “Without my father, our people will suffer. Gaston will—”

“You leave him to me,” Rascende growled, then he blinked and softened the hard expression that had entered his eyes at the mention of Gaston’s name. He shifted his grasp around her fingers then until he was holding her hand and she no longer desperately clutching at his. “Just rest, my Belle,” he said gently, “And leave everything else to me. I promise I will take care of your father, and see to it that Gaston can’t hurt anyone any more.”

She did not miss the way he called her his, but it soothed her, comforted the painful tension coiling in her so that she focused on his words, his promise to her and something in her trusted him more deeply than she had ever trusted another in her life. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything and surrender to him and his promise of aid.

“Chanctonbury,” she said, the hated name a breath on her lips. “He did this… did something so that my father would exhaust the coffers and—”

She jumped as Rascende’s soft finger touched just lightly on her lip and she silenced at once, stilled, and was uncertain whether it had been some kind of magic on his part to make her stop speaking, stop panicking and take several deep breaths, one after another.

“I have promised you,” he said quietly, “have I not, that I will take care of your father and make this little… problem… you have with the young lord Chanctonbury and his father go away…?” his voice took on a the same, and yet somehow exaggerated sing song tone as before. “And in return, all I ask is that you rest, and allow yourself to get well again.” He tipped his head to one side, to regard her, his warm brown eyes rippling with a strange, light, amber-gold for just a moment as he finished, “Do we have a deal?”

Another time… or a dream; a nightmare. Monsters, ogres, her people in danger and a strange little man offering help… for a price.

”What I want is something a bit more special.” His fingers curled in a gesture she couldn’t identify, before his hand disappeared behind her father’s form for a moment. “My price…” she saw him then, pointing over her father’s shoulder, “is her.”

Her head spun, she felt caught in a whirlwind, between two worlds with no foot in either where she belonged or where she should be, and in some unspoken way she knew, she knew, that neither one of them was here. She felt her eyes begin to roll and her eyelids flutter, the dislocation causing nausea to bite hard.

“Belle…?” strong hands - his hands - closed around her upper arms. “Belle what’s wrong?”

The touch grounded her. Her mind began to clear in spite of the lingering feeling of faintness, and before the words could slip away she whispered softly, “The deal… is struck.”

“Belle look at me!” he commanded, though his voice was somehow still gentle, and not without hope. “Look at me. Hold on to it… remember…”

Desperation crept in too, though he tried not to allow it. He wanted her to remember, needed her to, then he could protect her properly, without this transparent charade. Why had Regina done this… more to the point how?

What if it wasn’t Regina?

Impossible! he scoffed mentally, pushing the thought away in the face of the struggle he saw on Belle’s face, as though she were trying, and trying hard to obey his command, to hold tight to the ledge but with fingers that were slipping. If only he could catch her. Who could possibly be strong enough to disrupt the casting of the dark curse… Impossible!

“I… I don… I can’t…” Belle’s voice, colored with deep confusion pulled him out of his almost frightened musings.

“Look at me, Belle,” he said again, “Tell me… what did you see? What did you remember?”

Her eyes were beginning to lose that slightly glazed, faraway expression and he cursed inwardly, almost begging for more time. If only he could get her to speak of it, to keep it.

“R… Rumple…” she closed her eyes, her face a frown as she spoke his name, “…stiltskin…?”

“Yes,” he breathed and gripped her more tightly, “Yes, it’s me. I’m here. Forever, remember?”

“Yeah, I…” she murmured even more faintly.

He tried so hard to somehow keep a hold of her; of her mind, of her memory, even as the shield flared and wavered around them… holding, though inside the cottage, the pots rattled on the hearth. He looked that way, for barely a second.

“Master Rascende…” Belle pulled away from his grasp on one side to be able to run a hand over her face. His heart lurched then sank, constricting in his chest as if the bile rising in his throat were a hand that grasped it. “…forgive me,” she continued, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve… been through a lot,” he told her, managing to keep his voice surprisingly steady, even through his own pain, “Perhaps you just need to rest a little more.”

She offered him a slightly bemused, slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m sure you’re right,” she whispered. “But you… you’ll still… you’ll help…?”

“Of course I will,” he gave her a sorrowing smile. “Just as soon as morning comes, I’ll go to Amberley hall and see what’s to be done… beginning with your father.”

She reached out and clutched at his arm as she lay down, and he carefully covered her again with the blanket. “Thank you, Rascende. Truly.”

His lips tightened from a smile into a part of the serious expression that overtook his face. “Think nothing of it,” he said, gently pushing with magic drawn from the growing things of the forest, and the natural turning of the seasons, the Land, to nudge her toward sleep. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She acquiesced quickly, and he freed himself from her gentle grasp to stalk toward the fireplace, each step changed him from the gentle man he had been at her side to the tightly coiled spring of resentment, rage and pain. He reached inside of his jacket and closed his hand around the item he mentally summoned to the hidden pocket within. The familiar weight of the handle a comfort, a shelter to him in times such as these. He needed greater power, and this could give it to him immediately; without the need to wait on his full attunement with the natural magic of this world. It would serve him greatly - as greatly as he had already, always, and still served it.

“I’ll get to the bottom of all of it,” he promised through clenched teeth, the breath of his uttered words misting the blade of the Dark One Dagger as he spoke.

#rumbelle #au #curse gone wrong #noncon warning #abuse #romance #eventual smut #character death #graphic violence #gaston is evil #i will always write jefferson

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